#being my typical brand of weird but I do sometimes feel like an idiot around her and feel guilty because then I fear that she finds me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

straydawg-writing · 3 years

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𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦.

- 𝓚. 𝙯𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙮𝙘𝙠

• hunter x hunter series

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Chapter 3—

"Don't they have anything at least a LITTLE flattering? I get they're like hippie-extremists, but not all of us want to look like a sack of potatoes," you complained, swiping through their clothing racks that screamed no-potential-whatsoever.

You'd finally arrived at NGL headquarters, only for them to make the three of you throw out your phones and clothes. It's like they were still living in the 18th century.

"It's only clothes. Just pick whatever," Killua replied while browsing through the selection, though he looked equally as aggravated and bored. He did have at least some style that he wanted to upkeep.

Gon on the other hand didn't seem to care.

"You think they have anything green?" He wondered out loud.

You pulled out a set of white pants with a blue long sleeves top.

"Hey Killua."

"Yeah?"

You shoved the set into his arms, giving him a bright smile.

"Try this on, I think it would match your eyes well."

"Idiot. The Chimera Ants won't be looking at my eyes when we're fighting them." Pink dusted his cheeks as he looked to the side, avoiding eye contact.

He bought the outfit without even trying it on.

Gon pouted. "Wait, what about me?"

You pulled out two more similar sets. One was a pair of green pants and a white tank top, while the other was burgundy pants with a black top. That one was yours.

"We can all match!" You grinned, relieved you finally found something that wouldn't make you all look like homeless children. "Well, sort of." The sets were still different colors, but they retained the same general style.

"Oh, great idea Y/N! I'll go change into it now," Gon beamed, nearly skipping all the way to the changing room with his brand new green pants. It was about time he put on something different for a change, you inwardly joked.

Killua was already walking back from the stalls when Gon ran past him.

"Wow Killua, look at that drip~" You whistled, checking out his new outfit.

"You're so hopeless," he sighed, bonking the top of your head.

You rubbed where he had hit and stuck out your tongue, pretending to be hurt. It was the truth though, he looked really good in the outfit you had picked out. Peeking at him while he wasn't looking, you discovered that the tight-skinned long sleeves accentuated his arms in a way you'd never noticed before, hugging his lean muscles. You were right about the royal-colored shirt bringing out his pretty blue eyes. And the way his pale skin and white hair contrasted them even looked a little heavenly...

God, what were you thinking? If Killua heard you right now he'd hit you over the head another 20 times over. You looked to the floor, hoping he wouldn't see your growing blush.

After all three of you had changed into your new clothes, the hunt for the Chimera Ants began. Kite was on his own horse, while the rest of you fit on the second one due to your small frames. You were holding onto Gon's torso as he took control of the reins.

He was like a natural, his whole body moving in sync with the horse in strong determination. You trusted him, knowing that wouldn't just let you topple over. You weren't really used to horses, as they weren't typically found roaming around the jungle.

Then there was Killua, who was standing stick-straight on the horse like it was nothing.

"How do you even do that?!" You called out over the sound of galloping hooves.

"Huh, Do what? You mean this?" Killua smirked, doing a handstand.

You couldn't believe him. The boy had no fear at all.

"You're crazy," you stated, turning around to face Killua and leisurely leaning your back against Gon.

You had finally mastered balancing on the horse without having to hold onto him— but you had nowhere as near the skill Killua did.

"Maybe I am, but you love it," he teased, still upside-down. Temptingly enough, his white locks of hair were hanging upside-down too.

Slowly, you leaned forward on the palm of your hands, steadily closing in the distance between you two.

"Sure, I do. You got me there," you cooed, catching him off guard.

"Huh.." He sweatdropped, turning bright red. Killua's balance was starting to wobble.

Then, exploiting his moment of weakness, you tugged on his hair knocking him over.

Satisfied, you rested against Gon again. Thankfully the boy didn't seem to mind.

"Show off," You said, sticking your nose in the air.

"Man, that was so unfair!" Killua whined, sitting back down on the horse and dragging his hands down his face.

You crossed your arms, ready to deliver some witty comeback, when you noticed some bees in the distance that looked like they were carrying something. Squinting your eyes, you saw that they were flying in closer.

"Hey guys, look at that," you pointed out. The horses stopped as one of the bees dropped the paper in Kite's hand.

Help!!

Chimera Ant Nest, Rocky Area

Notify Hunter Association!!

An SOS? And it appeared to be written in blood.

You cast a worried glance at Gon, who looked disturbed.

"It's Ponzu..."

Ponzu...? The name wasn't familiar to you at all. That must be somebody Killua and Gon knew from before you had met them.

The bee fluttered defeatedly around you before making its landing on your ring finger. Kite made the decision to leave the horses, with a message for the Hunter Association.

Even though they ran faster on foot, it didn't take much time until you came across an unsettling scene.

Or, what was left of Ponzu.

Blood soaked the ground. Articles of ripped-up clothing scattered the dirt, and there was not even a bone in sight. The putrid smell of iron overwhelmed your nostrils.

It was fresh blood.

If you had arrived even 15 minutes earlier, maybe Gon and Killua's friend would not have so barbarically killed. You felt sick to your stomach.

'This wasn't done by a human'

"This was done by a Chimera Ant," Kite finished your thought.

The look on Gon's face scared you. Most of the time, Gon was a sweet boy on a journey to find his father. But sometimes, you could spot a festering darkness threatening to take over his very being. You knew he would never tolerate his friends getting hurt, but you couldn't help but wonder if Gon was self-sacrificing, or perhaps selfish?

"I hate to consider the possibility, but it's possible that NGL's underground rulers have already been fed to the queen. What will happen if Chimera Ants are born with their genes..?" Kite trailed off, studying one of the bullet casings in the murder scene.

An unprecedented biohazard never seen before in human history, is what that meant. The worst-case scenario had just happened.

⋯✰⋯

That wasn't the last disturbing scene the four of you came across. In front of you now were three decaying horses, each speared through the stomach by its own tree. They resembled grilled chicken and steak kebabs.

The scent was even worse than the last incident. This time, they were rotting. Killua and you both covered your noses, in an attempt to block out the stench.

"It's like a morning sacrifice," Gon stated.

You remembered what that was. Back at home, sometimes birds would impale their prey on sharp objects like branches. It wasn't a pretty sight, but it was the circle of life. What kind of monster could do this to not just one, but three 1,000 ton horses?

Your question was answered quicker than you had hoped.

"Trash. Those are mine!" The monster in question growled as he stepped foot out of the dense forest.

He looked like an overgrown bunny, with wings of a bird, thick-ass thighs, and seaweed green hair. And as for the vibe he gave off? You could safely assume he was just a stupid man-child.

"Wow. You're ugly," you deadpanned.

"You wanna say that again little brat?" He snarled, making the first move and charging right after you.

You quickly dodged his attack, but not before he came in contact with your arm. That was gonna leave a bruise.

Kite activated his aura, temporarily distracting the bunny-monster. It seemed to have noticed the change in atmosphere.

No way...was it possible? Had it already learned about the power of nen?

"Y/N, Gon, Killua... You three must deal with him yourselves. We'll be encountering more Chimera Ant soldiers like him. I won't be able to help you during combat, so if you can't defeat him, you will have to leave." Kite stepped back from the fight.

You nodded, Gon and Killua mirroring you. The three of you understood what hung in the fate of this fight.

"We told you before Kite, we're pros, not just kids!"

In sync, you all activated your nen together.

"Did you hear that bunny? I'm about to blow off those weird speedos of yours into the next dimension." You raised your hand in front of you, manipulating the wind to blow him away with every step that you advanced.

Killua was already in the air, prepared to test his thunder-bolt. In a flash of blue, dozens of lightning strikes were being zapped into the ant, immobilizing him. Gon's charged punch was enough to send him flying across the sky.

You saw his tail-puff shrink and sparkle in the distance as he was about to disappear, until something fast and unidentifiable swept him away.

Someone had been watching.

"He let his soldier do the fighting so that he could learn our abilities," Kite explained while walking towards the three of you again.

Gon and Killua looked disappointed. You hadn't even gotten a chance to use much of your powers during that fight. If you had finished it off, would that have been enough to prove yourselves?

"Are you coming?"

You looked up at Kite.

"There's no need to feel down, your attacks weren't that bad. You just need experience now. If you wish to become stronger, this is a perfect opportunity... But if you aren't prepared, you won't be able to endure it. Whether we win or lose, hell lies ahead of us." Kite finished off, looking at each one of you in the eye with a resolute stare.

You knew that. Gon and Killua knew that also.

Even so, all three of you were prepared and eager to do whatever it takes to strengthen yourselves and help Kite save NGL.

⋯✰⋯

Kite looked serene as the light of the small campfire lit up his features. He and Gon had caught some fish for dinner earlier, while Killua and you set up camp. Now, you sat brushing arms with Killua, who was sitting next to Gon, who was huddled up close to Kite. The night was quiet, except for the cicadas singing in the trees and the thoughts running through you and your friend's minds.

There was a lot to think about.

Gon and Killua hadn't even been given the time to grieve over the loss of their past acquaintance, before being hit with the hard-hitting truth that the Ants were already evolving at a nightmarish rate. Nobody knew how many had gone missing or even more so been eaten. Yet everyone knew that the death count had already surpassed comprehensible numbers. Most likely, not everybody here would make it out alive.

But, the three of you consistently have proven the odds wrong. You held onto that fact like you held onto your pendant.

It reassured you.

It was obvious that the three of you had become inseparable over the past two years.

After you met Gon and Killua at Heaven's Arena, you'd never left each other's side.

Nobody would be going home without the other, because you had all found home within each other.

"Hey, Kite? What was your dad like?" Gon asked.

Kite looked up at the boy, surprised by the sudden question. Turning his eyes to the starry night sky, he exhaled a breath of cold air.

"I didn't know him. He disappeared when I was a child."

Gon hummed, waiting for Kite to continue. He knew that feeling too. It was an icy and empty feeling, not having a father figure in your life to guide you, praise you.

"I have very few memories of him, but they've all muddled together by now. Sometimes I can't tell if they're real or if I've convinced myself they are."

"....I think Ging would thank you."

This brought Kite's attention back to Gon.

"Thank me for what?"

"Well... You've been like a sort of mentor for me ever since we met, back on Whale Island. If it weren't for you, I would never have even become a hunter. Maybe I'm just a kid, but the past month it felt like I.. like I had a dad."

Your heart ached for Gon, who had been searching this whole time for his father in everyone he met and everything he saw. Gently, you placed your hand over his and squeezed it, wishing you could be of more comfort to him. Wishing you could turn back time and bring Ging back to his home, to Gon.

Kite's eyes softened as he looked at the boy, who offered a wobbly smile.

"Ging would be proud of you," he said, ruffling Gon's spiky hair.

That night, the glimmering moonlight had brought out your most vulnerable selves. You felt a honey-like warmth grow inside of you— a new member had just been added to your family. Killua seemed content, happy that his friend was smiling. And Gon's eyes matched the twinkling stars as he looked up to Kite like he was the most wonderful thing.

It was a special night. You knew deep down that you would treasure it, for a long time to come.

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#hunter x hunter fanfiction #killua x reader #killua zoldyck x reader #hxh #hxh fanfic

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homerofthebraves · 3 years

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I’m sorry this is so late, but this is my gift for the @hockeynetwork winter gift exchange! It was a lot more fluff than I originally intended, but I hope you like it @antoineroussel!

“Paaaattttyyy. Pat Patty Patty Pats. Paaaaaaaaaaatts.” Travis drawled from his upside down position on the sofa. His feet were in the air, hanging over the back of the couch, kicking idly, and his head was almost on the floor. It was surprisingly comfortable. They were finally both back in Philly, for the first time in what felt like forever, getting ready for a season. He wondered if this is what the lockout felt like a few years ago. He’d have to ask one of the older guys. He turned his head to look at Nolan, who was sitting on the couch with his legs across TK’s torso, scrolling through his phone absently. Travis could hear the sounds coming from it. Patty was 100% on TikTok like the Gen-Z trash he was.

“What.” His voice was completely flat. He didn’t even bother to look at Travis, just paused the video he was watching. Travis blinked up at him. His hair was long, like really long, to the point where he’d started tying it back with ribbons or those elastic things TK started finding all over the house. It was currently down, pushed back behind his ear. His face looked weird from this angle, and Travis could, like see the inside of his nose. His beard was gone. He complained about masks making it itchy, but Travis just thought he was struggling to grow it out. It always came in patchy anyway. Patty made a noise and nudged his foot into TK’s side impatiently.

“What do you want, asshole?” He muttered. Travis frowned. He’d actually forgotten why he wanted Patty’s attention in the first place.

“I love you.”

“Oh my god you’re the worst.” He turned back to his phone, and Travis could hear the start of that annoying Lady Gaga trend.

Travis pouted, looking up at Nolan. “You love me.”

“Asshole.”

“An asshole you’re in looooveee with.” Travis responded, turning his pout into a smirk.

Nolan pulled his legs back, reached over and shoved Travis off the couch completely, backflipping him onto the floor.

“Motherfucking OW.” Travis complained from where he was now sprawled out on the floor. “If you put me on IR, I will…” Travis trailed off because Nolan started laughing. He was laughing loud and obnoxious and holy shit was that a snort.

“Holy-shit, Teeks- your face.” Nolan got out between huffs of laughter. Travis wanted to glare. He absolutely one hundred, two hundred percent wanted to glare. But he found himself smiling instead. It had been so long since he’d heard his boyfriend laugh like that, all carefree and happy. That’s not to say Nolan hadn’t been happy, but that last year and a half had been tough on him. He waited Nolan out, watching as tears formed in his eyes before could catch his breath. He stretched his legs out and cracked his back before standing back up. “You’re lucky I’m flexible.” He muttered, but the smile on his face completely betrayed any fake anger.

“The luckiest.” Nolan smirked, pleased with himself. Travis sat down on the couch and leaned into Nolan’s side, looking over his shoulder to Nolan’s phone that was playing one of this or that videos.

“We should make one of those.” Travis gestured to the video. Nolan was watching one of his sister’s tiktoks from the summer.

Nolan turned and gave Travis a look that basically said “who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” Which like, fair. Travis had been against social media, and was vocal about his low screen time. Which was definitely off-set by the amount of time he spent playing COD with Patty. But he made fun of anything and everything to do with social media.

He shrugged in response to Nolan’s question. “Could be fun? And like, I can totally carry you piggyback.” He laughed. “Nothing serious, all like, hockey stuff? Maybe some hunting?” Travis was definitely not the type to share like, health diagnosis on the internet, but he could say whether he preferred hunting or fishing, top shelf or five hole. That sort of thing.

Nolan nodded, opening the notes app on his phone. “Believe it or not, I did learn how to make these things just from being around them so much. Just like, no dancing.”

“No dancing.” Travis agreed. He could hold his own on a dancefloor, but these tiktok dance trends were way too complicated. He’d had enough of watching Haysie try to learn the WAP dance in the bubble. The images were scarred into his brain.

Nolan was writing out an actual list of this or that for them to choose from. Shoots right or shoots left, mouthguard, yes or no, hunting or fishing. Travis had no idea this much thought had to go into this.

“Blondes or brunettes?” Nolan asked, his voice almost bored.

“Depends on the day.” Nolan rolled his eyes at that. “Cause like,” Travis continued, “sometimes your hair is blond and sometimes it's brown and it’s very confusing.”

“Stupid question. I’m throwing it out.” Nolan decided before Travis could have a full on breakdown over the color of his boyfriend’s hair.

The tiktok took over an hour to film, which Travis was not expecting when he’d suggested the idea. Nolan was determined to finish it though, and it’s not like they had anything better to do with their time. They wouldn’t be heading into training camp until after New Years, and Christmas was over. Travis’ apartment wasn’t particularly decorated, since he’d come back to the States after the holiday. They’d had to clear out some space in the hallway, which had been covered in hockey equipment and various suitcases.

They’d ended up watching more of those videos to get ideas, for their own, and Travis was ready to never hear this stupid song again.

“We should ask to film the last one at the rink.” Nolan suggested, looking at his list. They’d covered hunting, fishing, planes and buses, equipment brands, soda or water, typical stuff.| “What’s the category?” Travis asked. He was currently digging through his gear bag looking for an extra Flyers beanie for baseball caps vs toques.

“Top shelf vs five hole. Maybe it could be fun to get some of the guys involved.”

It was Travis’ turned to raise an eyebrow. “Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

Nolan rolled his eyes in response and shrugged. “I mean, it could be fun. I haven’t seen them in a while, do something with the team.” His voice was especially mumbly now. It got that way when he was feeling emotional and didn’t want anyone else to know. Travis was tempted to tease him about it, but chirping Nolan about his emotions was like skating on an edge. One movement too far, and you fall flat on your face.

Instead of chirping Nolan about it, he smiled, walked over and kissed his head. “I’ll text the group chat. Tell G to make it mandatory team bonding.” TK lowered his voice into what was honestly a horrible impression of their captain. “Everyone better be in Patty’s tiktok tomorrow or your footing the next team dinner.” But it made Nolan chuckle so that’s all that really mattered.

“You’re an idiot.” He smiled, reaching over to press a kiss to TK’s lips. Travis pressed into it, reaching up to grab at Nolan’s long hair.

“Idea.” Travis said against Nolan’s lips. “We table this tiktok shit for tomorrow and we spend the next hour making out-” he cut off as Nolan but at his lip.

“Why are you so incapable of shutting up.” He muttered, pulling Travis into his lap. And like, yeah Travis was totally on board with this.

“Alright everyone! I have an announcement.” Travis yelled to the locker room as they got dressed for practice the next day. He’d forgotten to text the group chat after getting distracted by Nolan and then his phone was dead and then he figured he’d see everyone at practice anyway.

“Did you finally propose?” Provy shouted back, throwing a roll of tape at TK’s head. Which like, rude.

“Did Patty finally propose?” Haysie countered, laughing as Nolan threw a dirty sock at his face.

“No, no ones getting married. Patty wants everyone to help him make a tiktok because he’s Gen Z trash.”

The locker room exploded in laughter and chirps.

“What’s a tiktok?”

“Will we be expected to dance?”

“I had enough of that WAP shit in the playoffs.”

Travis tuned them all out. Nolan was taking the reins now, explaining to everyone what he needed to make this. It turns out he’d already arranged it with the PR team, which explained why he was all brains, brawn and beauty in this relationship. They would be spending an extra hour after practice filming this, but it was totally worth it in Travis’ opinion. Nolan was back on the ice in Flyers orange, where he belonged. The season wouldn’t be starting for another few weeks, and if goofing around with his teammates is what Nolan needed, then Travis was going to support him. Even if it meant Haysie giving him a piggyback ride on the ice.

#hockey rpf #winter gift exchange #travis konecny #nolan patrick #pattyteeks #philadelphia flyers #my fics #hockey rpf fic #hockey #flyers

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sunsetinmyvein · 4 years

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I Know That I’ll Lose - Chapter One - This is How it Starts

A terribly stubborn, mildly (at best) egotistical man happens to meet a girl just as hard headed as he is, who can't help but bite every time he fishes for attention. "Don't set me a challenge if you aren't prepared to have it beaten."

A/N - Hey, guess what? I still write! I know, crazy, huh? This thing has been in the works for about eight months now and is finally ready. I wanted to make sure that it was completed so that I didn't leave anyone hangin' and that I was 100% happy with it before I started posting it. This thing has been read and re-read numerous times - a lot of care and effort went into preeeetty much all of it. There are hyperlinks scattered throughout the story. They don't add anything to the actual content, they kind of just provide context on certain moments, or reference where I pulled something from, or sometimes they're just a gif that makes me laugh. Click 'em if you want, don't if you don't want. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Anyway! Hopefully you guys might get some enjoyment out of it. As always, any thoughts and comments are always thoroughly appreciated. :D

Selling merchandise for a band was always seen by those who didn’t do it as this glorious job. Everyone always seemed to think that you must know the band, that you get all the free shit you want, you can give the discounts you want, that you control what the band sells, that you get to watch the show and then go home. But that’s not what it was at all. Merch was a lot of waking up early, receiving boxes, unpacking boxes, counting shirts, folding shirts, selling shirts, unfolding shirts, re-counting shirts, packing up shirts into boxes, then shipping boxes away and ending your day long after the last guest had left the venue. Rarely did you get to watch the show, sometimes you couldn’t even hear it depending on where the merch stand was located. You definitely didn’t know the band, typically their manager reaches out to the brand label who will make or receive their merch and then they reach out to you. You receive what you’re given, sell it, send back what you don’t sell. Move on. The most you ever see of the band is what you can see from the back of the crowd over everyone else’s heads. And most certainly you don’t get free stuff. Everything is accounted for against the money taken in for the night, and losses are recorded. All of these things came to the forefront whenever a fan gave you a tough time for not stocking hoodies, or for not having some obscure item they wanted, or for complaining that the prices were too high and asking you to lower them, not understanding that you weren’t in control of any of that. Or better yet, asking you to ask the band something – because that was definitely feasible when they had no idea who you were.

But, despite all this; it was a fun job. It meant chatting to people all night who were like minded and enjoyed music, especially if you were lucky and swung it so you could work merch for a band you actually enjoyed listening to and got to talk to other fans. The counting was, at the very least, simple and sometimes therapeutic. The long hours typically meant you always had time to get everything done, and they usually paid well - cash in hand at the end of a shift wasn’t something you got in many industries. Sometimes you could see the show from merch and enjoy it a bit while the crowd was occupied. Sometimes you were allowed to take a tour shirt home, if you were lucky. Sometimes, if you were really lucky, the band came to the merch van to see how things were selling, or to make sure you got everything. It was always pretty cool whenever that happened. But it was exceedingly rare.

At the end of the day though, a job was a job and money was money. And money was exactly why Y/N had accepted the job selling merch with her brother for The 1975. But by the time the gig had rolled around, two months after his initial job offer to her, pleasure was the reason she was going. She had spent the last couple of months listening to them and learning a bit about the band. They were definitely worth listening to despite her original thoughts on their music, and all of a sudden she found that she regretted working the concert as she would’ve preferred to have been going to the concert. But the cash was needed. So, she would have to settle for this and maybe being able to hear a bit of the show from merch. Maybe she could sneak away during her break to catch a few songs. If she could get away from the merch van close to the end of their set, then she could catch The Sound and she’d be happy enough with that. As she counted the shirts, she put on some music in the background to get truly into the zone and tried to formulate a plan about how she could catch a few of her favourite songs. Maybe it could work… Her thoughts were eventually interrupted by her brother asking her if she’d seen the yellow ink.

“The what?”

“The yellow ink for the shirt pressing thing?” They had been given a strange contraption when they had come into the venue: A massive machine that they were told would be used to print new designs over old 1975 t-shirts for free if any fans brought them up. They were fairly sure they had worked out how to use it, but now they couldn’t find any ink to test it with. “I’ll go look for some. Maybe they have it boxed with the other stuff out the back. Be back soon!” He called as he walked out of the door, pulling it shut behind him.

She went back to counting and formulating plans. Fifteen minutes had passed with her being in the counting zone before she heard the door open again. “Hey, did you find the-” She spun around, only to come face to face with someone who wasn’t her brother as she had been expecting. He stood taller than her brother and had a messy mop of dark curls sitting on top of his head. He took off the sunglasses he was wearing and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Hi, erm, sorry for the intrusion.” He started as he smiled sheepishly. The British accent was thick in his tone, and she was already fairly certain she knew who this man was without an introduction. But it was probably better for her own nerves if she didn’t confirm or deny that.

“No, no, it’s cool. How can I help?” She stopped counting the pile that she was in the middle of and set it aside, turning to face him properly now.

“I just wanted to come by and make sure that you knew what to do with the reprinted merch.” He continued as he gestured to the strange machine that they had been given. He felt awkward standing in here, like he shouldn’t touch anything. As much as this was his show, his band, his merch, he felt like he was intruding in a space that wasn’t his, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself. It had been a long time since he’d sold any merch.

“Oh! Well, kind of.” She made her way over to the machine. “We were just looking for the ink for it, but I think we’ve worked out how to use it.” She demonstrated how they had been trialling the machine and he nodded in response. It felt good to know that they weren’t total idiots and had managed to work it out.

“It’s not too hard, you just have to make sure the shirt in it is really pulled tight so the pattern is right.” He grabbed a shirt from her pile that she had been in the middle of counting to demonstrate. She winced slightly as he ruined what would’ve been a perfect pile of ten, but let him take it. He loaded it into the machine and showed her how to get it to sit properly. “And did all of the boxes arrive? I tried to keep my eye on them when they came over with me on the plane but I lost track a few times because I didn’t have to grab them myself. We lost one at the last stop.” He ran a hand through his messy curls, trying to judge what was in the room and see if it looked correct.

“I think everything is here. It was 26 in total I believe that should’ve come with you and 21 already here.” He nodded. That sounded roughly right.

As he took in his surroundings, he noticed that she was also wearing one of their shirts. That was all the invitation he needed to snap out of the awkward feeling that had been looming over him and jump into his usual personality. “And I see you’re already modelling some for us.” He grinned with an eyebrow raised.

She glanced down at the tour shirt she was wearing. “Ah, standard policy to wear the shirt that there’s the most stock of to show it off.” She replied. “But I’m hoping I can start modelling the hoodie as soon as the sun sets.” She laughed. “I might even grab one. They look very comfy.”

“You should get the shirt you’ve got on.” He replied instantly. She looked at him with a slight hint of curiosity in her eyes. He paused for a beat, contemplating if he should continue his thought out loud. But he was never a man to censor his words. “It looks good on you.” His dark brown eyes held a certain sparkle in them when he said it, like he was waiting to see how she responded. She opened her mouth to reply, but her brain was taking a good moment to catch up to his words. Was that flirting? Or an offhand compliment? A mumbled ‘thanks’ was all that ended up coming out of her mouth before turning back to her counting to hide the red that was dusting her cheeks.

The conversation stilled between them, with the background noise of her phone quietly playing on the far side of the van being the only thing to fill the room. She had assumed that he had gotten all the info he needed and was on his way out. Should she ask for an autograph or something before he leaves? That might be weird. She doesn’t even know for sure that it’s him. He probably had more important stuff to attend to, anyway. And it looked like he might have been about to turn and leave, until a familiar song started playing on her phone. The introduction to Tootime floated through the air as she stared down at her pile of shirts and mentally cursed herself for putting a playlist on shuffle that had 1975 songs in it. There were so many other songs in this playlist. Why did her phone have to betray her like this? “Nice music choice, by the way.” He smirked. “That band is pretty overrated, though. I hear the singer is a bit of a twat.” He chuckled at his own joke, but she was still so caught off guard that she was unsure whether to laugh, or if that would be rude. However, it definitely confirmed that he was who she suspected. Matthew Healy was currently giving her shit for listening to his music at his show. God fucking dammit.

“Oh, I, uh…” She blushed furiously as she stared down at her phone. It would be too awkward to change the song now, the damage was already done. He laughed lightly.

“It’s fine. It’s nice to see people behind the scenes enjoying the music. Meet the fans and all that jazz.” He looked entirely too amused by her embarrassment, rocking onto the balls of his feet as he gauged her reaction.

“Well… I wasn’t a fan until I got the job if I’m honest. Only started listening to you guys about two months ago. I was a bit late to the boat on that one.” She shrugged, finally turning away from the offending device to look at him.

He let out a fake gasp and clutched at his heart. “I am deeply hurt by this information.” That managed to get a chuckle out of her.

“Truthfully, I had it on because I wasn’t sure if I’d actually be able to get away to see any of the show. We’re so far away from the stage here. I was hoping to sneak away to catch The Sound but I’d have to sprint back to merch as soon as it ends if you play it last.” She explained.

“Well…” He scratched at the back of his neck, mulling over the idea in his head briefly before voicing it. “Would you want to come and listen to it now?”

“What? Like on my phone?” She frowned in confusion.

“No, we can play it for you live. Now.” He elaborated.

“How?”

“We’re about to start soundchecking in a few minutes, I’ll just get the guys to play that instead of something else.” He had already dragged his friends into this mess of trying to impress a girl. It took him all of five minutes. He was certain they wouldn’t be pleased but they could suck it up.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t bother you like that. You need to actually test shit and make sure it’s all working.” She said as she shook her head.

“We can do all that playing any song. It doesn’t matter what ones we play.” He shrugged. “Assuming you’re allowed to leave here of course?” He asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

“I, um…” What on earth was happening? This was not an offer to turn down, but it felt strange to accept it all the same. “Yeah, I can, I guess. I just need to lock the door so that nobody bursts in and steals armfuls of your shirts.” He flashed a triumphant grin.

“Let’s get going, then. I’d better not keep my boys waiting for too long or they’ll think I’ve abandoned them for some cute girl or something.” He watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye as he made the comment, seeing the blush return to her cheeks. He hadn’t planned to have a fun time messing with anyone today, but he certainly wasn’t complaining that the opportunity landed itself right in his lap.

She locked the merch door before they started walking down the corridors towards the stage. A pit of nerves had started to form in her stomach, but before she could start to internally freak out too much his voice snapped her out of it. “Oh! I have totally forgotten to introduce myself. Matty.” He said, holding his hand out for her to shake. As she took it, he pulled her slightly closer towards him. “But I feel like you might’ve already known that.” He added with a wink.

“I had a feeling.” She nodded, trying her best to hold his gaze and not chicken out as he continued to hold onto her hand. Was he just a forward sorta guy or was he actively flirting? Because it was pretty unmistakable at this point.

“And your name, love?” He raised his eyebrows, urging her to continue.

“Y/N/N.” She answered as he finally let go of her hand. She hated that it had an odd tingling feeling in it. She definitely didn’t need to fangirl over an attractive guy who was being incredibly nice right now. That would certainly not help anyone. So, she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. He nodded thoughtfully to himself at her answer, considering what that would be short for.

“Not Y/N?” He questioned.

“Not Matthew?” She countered, giving him a pointed look. He grimaced at the use of his full name. It reminded him too much of getting told off by his parents, teachers, George.

“Point taken.” He laughed.

They rounded the corner to the arena floor and began walking across the expansive space. It seemed a lot smaller when thousands of people were crammed into it. He hopped over the barrier when they reached it, taking his place up on stage with his friends. They didn’t seem to bat an eyelid at the fact that he had some random girl in tow with him as he approached them. He came across very differently on stage as he gathered his equipment than what he had in the merch van. An entirely different aura about him. Less awkwardness, a lot more confident of himself and his movements. He was handing out directions instead of being afraid to move for fear of messing something up. He wore the demeanour well. He made sure his mic stand was at the correct height before tapping it a couple of times.

“All right boys, we’re gonna play The Sound for my lovely friend down there.” He said, waving his hand in her general direction as he shot a grin her way. She smiled up at him, trying to stifle a laugh. This entire situation seemed surreal, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or freak out or just, y’know, die on the spot. Certainly a heart attack felt imminent. But currently, her mentality was to just roll with it and internalise any and all feelings. They could be dealt with at a later date when he wasn’t around to cloud her judgement. His bandmates nodded as they started tuning instruments accordingly. They seemed unphased by his antics, it was obvious that they dealt with him like this on a regular basis.

After a few brief minutes, they had all confirmed that they were ready to go. Matty gestured for her to hop over the barrier. She looked back at him in confusion. “C’mere.” He said as he knelt down on the edge of the stage, holding his hand out to her. His long curls started to fall into his eyes a bit as he leant forward.

“Why?” She frowned up at him from the floor.

“You like this song, right?” He questioned.

“Well, yeah, obviously.” She scoffed. “I wouldn’t have followed some strange dude through dodgy hallways if I didn’t.”

He chuckled at that. “Then come up on stage and dance with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s fun! Fuck me, it’s not that complicated.” He laughed loudly. She took his hand with a roll of her eyes and a few grumbled curses as he helped pull her up onto the stage, positioning her next to his spot at the centre. After a shared nod amongst the band, the familiar introduction started pouring through the speakers around them.

Matty stood there eagerly at his microphone, his eyes shut and his foot tapping to the soft beat to count himself in. He cleared his throat as his first line came in, wrapping his hands tightly around the mic before starting to sing. His voice sounded far better in person than she would’ve expected, especially at such a close distance to not even need the speakers to hear it properly. The drums, the instrumentals, everything reverberated through her. She took in the scene around her, glancing around at the other band members, to the empty venue, to Matty in front of her. To say it was an amazing experience was an understatement. Surreal probably would’ve been a better adjective. As he broke into the second line he cracked one eye open, catching her staring at him in awe. There was absolutely no point in trying to hide it, she enjoyed a concert at the best of times let alone when one was being held just for her. A shit eating grin split across his face. As he tore into the first verse he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, forcing her to bop along with him as he sang.

“She said I’ve got a problem with your shoes,” He sung, glancing pointedly down at her shoes, forcing her to look down as well, “And your tunes,” at that he shoved his finger in her ear closest to his head. “But I might move in,” She quickly slapped his hand away, making him laugh his way through his next few lines. “You’re so conceited I, said I love you, what does it matter if I lie to you?” He used his arm around her shoulder to spin her out away from him, forcing her to enjoy the energy he was radiating. He caught her hand quickly and pulled her back to him. Her head was spinning enough from the situation as whole, let alone when he did things like that.

“You’ve done this before.” She shouted at him over the music.

“Well I know when you’re around ‘cause I know the sound, I know the sound of your heart.” He sung with a wink, poking her quickly in the chest at the word ‘heart’ from emphasis. “Don’t overthink it, just enjoy it.” He said into her ear quickly before the second verse started.

Normally, she was fairly reserved, and certainly unlikely to let loose in front of a group of strangers. But the song, the smile, that look, they were all pretty damn hard to resist. So, she caved and just started properly bopping along with him while he sung through the second verse. When she caught sight of the genuine smile on his face at her having a good time, it quickly became contagious.

“Oh and you say, I’m such a cliché,” He held his hand to his chest dramatically as he sung into his microphone. “I can’t see the difference in it either way.” As he pulled his hand away from his chest, he reached out and grabbed a hold of her hand closest to him, pulling her back over into his personal space to be facing him. “And we, left things to protect my mental health.” Why was he staring at her like that? Oh, no. Suddenly she remembered the line coming next and became acutely aware as to why he had pulled her close again. Fuck. “But you call me when you’re bored and you’re playing with yourself.” He dragged his hand down his chest to his crotch with a devious smirk on his lips, making sure that she was close enough that the back of his hand made contact with her as well. As he headed into the pre-chorus he turned back to the microphone, letting her sort her head out for a moment. She tried her best to recover from how ridiculously forward that was. Was it a good thing or a bad thing that he’d just done that? Her thoughts reeled. She figured it would be best to just pretend that he hadn’t done that. That was a thought to shove to the back of her mind until much later. As the music died down leading into the bridge, he quickly pulled her away from the mic into the centre of the stage. He held onto both of her hands tightly as the music swelled back up, eventually jumping around and trying to convince her to properly dance with him as soon as the guitar solo started.

“Dance with me!” He shouted, dancing hard enough that his audio receiver had fallen out of his ear. “Don’t make me look like a dickhead by myself.” He added with a laugh. She had to laugh back at that and started jumping along with him. He seemed to be an infectious good time in and of himself. Either that or he was just good at getting people to give him his way. Probably a bit of both. Eventually she realised that the backing vocals had started again, but he was still over here, nowhere near his mic.

“Aren’t you meant to be singing?” She asked loudly, gesturing to the empty mic. “Or, you know, checking the levels of audio stuff?”

“I can do that on the next song.” He answered, still singing along to the song out of habit anyway. She shook her head in disbelief. He must be impossible to work with. He let out a few huffs of breath as the song ended before grinning at her. “That was fun. What other songs do you like?”

“No, I can’t- I really should…” She quickly looked around the stage looking for anyone who seemed annoyed by her still being here. Nobody seemed phased by it. The interaction that they had in the merch van sprung back into Matty’s mind.

“Tootime?” He suggested with an eyebrow raised.

She let out a reluctant groan. “I probably should be getting back…”

“Tootime.” His suggestion was less of a question now.

“You have things to do… I have things to do…” Her argument was pretty weak and he knew it. And the smile she was trying to hide was a dead giveaway that she wanted to hear it.

“TOOTIME!” He shouted at the band behind him, they gave small nods of acknowledgement in response that they’d heard him. He ran back over to his mic, pulling it out of the stand and joining her back in the centre of the stage. “You have to do the hand motions with me.” He said as he started bopping around and doing the ‘rewind’ signal. “And dance.” He added with a pointed look.

“Sure. At this point, why not? I feel like you wouldn’t let me get away with anything less.” She sighed in feigned annoyance.

“Too right I wouldn’t. You know me so well already.” He said with a grin so broad it made the side of his eyes crinkle.

Just like when The Sound had started, he shut his eyes and calmed down his breathing as the intro began, both hands wrapped tightly around the mic. She could see his head bopping along to the beat to keep his timing right. This song was no less impressive than the previous one. A couple of the effects and lights had started to be turned on for this one, clearly a few of the crew taking their opportunity to test everything. It truly was a spectacle to behold that she normally didn’t see from this angle. She danced along a bit with the lyrics, more so watching around the stage than watching Matty. But she did happen to catch it as his eyes lit up as soon as he sung: “I only called her one time.” in the first round of the chorus, suddenly starting to fish through his pocket for something as he continued singing.

“Do I really have to do the numbers if you’re not even looking?” She asked, her question falling on deaf ears.

“You-” He jabbed her arm, holding his phone out to her. “text that boy-” he jabbed at his chest with a smile. “sometimes.” She stared down at his phone blankly before seeing it was on a new contact screen.

“Are you asking for my number?” She shouted at him above the music. He nodded with a grin as he continued to sing. “With song lyrics?? Who the hell are you..?” She asked in disbelief as she took the phone out of his hand. He pulled the mic away from his mouth so that he could speak.

“Sorry, I thought I had already done that bit. Matty.” He answered with that stupid grin still plastered on his face as he held his hand out for a handshake. She pushed it away with a laugh.

He finished the song without a hitch, dancing like an idiot and forcing her to do the same throughout the rest of it. As much as she would’ve hated to admit it, she couldn’t deny that it was fun. The instant the song ended, Matty had launched into some animated story from when they had been touring in the UK. They had been on a wild night at a pub somewhere when they heard Tootime while they were out. Halfway through said story, she heard the drummer at the back of the stage trying and failing to get his attention. She wasn’t sure if Matty wasn’t hearing him or if he was just straight up ignoring him.

“Matty.” The drummer called, trying again to get his friend’s attention.

Matty however was still completely unphased and continued along with his story. “and anyway that’s when-”

“I think-” She started, gesturing to the back of the stage. But he kept on going.

“we got back to the bar and found out that-”

“MATTHEW.” He shouted eventually from behind his kit, loud enough that he finally interrupted him.

“WHAT, GEORGE?” Matty shouted back angrily as he spun on his heel to look at his friend.

“STOP FLIRTING FOR FIVE FUCKING SECONDS AND PLUG YOUR DAMN EARPIECE BACK IN. THE SOUND GUYS ARE TRYING TO REACH YOU.” The lead singer reluctantly did as he was told and slipped the device back into his ear with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s probably my cue.” She mumbled with a laugh in an attempt to break the sudden awkward feeling she had, moving towards the edge of the stage. Before she could jump down, Matty grabbed her arm.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He was clearly listening to what was being said in his ear, eyes focused on the ground as he nodded slightly. She waited a moment for him to tune back into the rest of the world before speaking.

“I should be getting back to mer-” He held up his finger to silence her as he was listening.

“Okay, got it.” He finally confirmed, before looking back at her. “You cannot leave without this.” He raced off to the side of the stage and came back a moment later with a lanyard. He handed it to her, and she took a moment to examine it.

“An all access pass? I really can’t take this.” She said, trying to hand it back to him. He just pushed it back into her grip.

“Only temporarily, I’ll need it back later. But you’ll need it for a good view during the show.” He said, nodding towards the side of the stage.

She felt her jaw drop slightly as she stared at him wide-eyed. “I really can’t do that. People need to have access to the side of the stage for… crew… things. I can’t just rock up unannounced.”

“Why not? You have a triple A pass.” He shrugged.

“I-”

“Just take it. Use it or don’t, I’ll grab it later.” He was clearly done arguing about it, she could see that much, and he had already raced to the back of the stage to say something to George. So, she just nodded and slipped it into her pocket as she finally started heading back to the merch van. Halfway across the arena floor, she realised that she actually had no idea where she was going. Her brain had been too distracted about the company she was with to focus on the turns they were taking. She paused for a moment, trying to remember what way they had come from. “Left.” She heard Matty call through the mic. She flashed a thumbs up over her shoulder, hearing him laugh as she left the arena floor.

Thankfully once she had a general idea of her direction, the merch van wasn’t hard to find. She came back to find the door open a crack and was worried for a brief moment before she saw her brother inside. “Hey, you’re alive! Where have you been? You weren’t answering my texts.” He asked, flashing her a worried look. She stepped into the van, shutting the door behind her and pausing for a moment to try and find a way to best explain what the last half an hour had consisted of.

“I… Uh… actually?” She rubbed at the back of her neck anxiously, “On the stage.”

He frowned in confusion, “What?”

“I think I befriended the lead singer of the headliner?” She wished she was able to sound surer of herself about that, but honestly nothing that had just happened made any sense yet.

“How?” He asked back with a loud laugh.

“I… have no idea.”

The rest of the setup for merch was simple. The stock was counted in, the displays set up, sizes were laid out, and the ink for the reprinting machine had finally been found and tested. She decided to forget for the moment that anything had happened with Matty, as it was far easier than having to deal with it while needing to work at the same time. It worried her that if she tried to process it now, her brain may very well implode. Doors opened and fans rushed in like it was a life or death matter to purchase a t-shirt. Once she had the steady stream of customers to deal with it was much easier to get back in the groove. It wasn’t until the line of people finally started dying down that she actually checked the time and saw that The 1975 had started playing over half an hour ago. She also had numerous texts from an unknown number that she assumed to be Matty.

“Oh, shit.” She muttered under her breath, scrolling quickly through the messages.

6:05pm How’s our stuff selling?

7:37pm Have you reprinted many shirts?

8:50pm We go on in 10.

9:13pm You’ve already missed tootime

9:29pm Are you gonna use that pass or what?

“What?” Her brother asked casually from across the van.

“Can I take my break now?” She asked quickly. He nodded in response. “I might be a little bit.”

He shrugged, “Go for your life, just be back at the end of the show to deal with the final rush.”

“Thanks!” She shouted, already halfway out the door.

* * *

It was getting late into the show and Matty was starting to get worried that she wasn’t going to turn up. He had hoped that she would be there before he went on stage. Was it cocky of him to have expected that? Probably. But Tootime was pretty early on in their set and he figured she would’ve at least showed for that. But she hadn’t. And she hadn’t for any of the other songs either. They didn’t have that long now until the band had to break for the encore, and then the encore itself was only four songs. He wasn’t overly sure why he was so torn up about it. He knew that she had a job to do, and that merch was still pretty busy right until they went on stage, but that was over an hour ago now. He found himself standing in front of the drumkit during a short interlude between songs, staring at the bass drum with a blank expression.

“Matty.” George called out to him.

“Mm?” He glanced up at his friend.

“Stop freaking out.” He said as he pointed one of his drumsticks in his direction.

“I’m not.” He shrugged.

“You are. Whatever you’re thinking about, stop it.” He said as the ambience started changing to the introduction of their next song.

“Sure thing, mum.” He said with a roll of his eyes, taking a swig of his glass of wine and heading back towards his mic.

As they were about halfway through their final song before the encore, he was beginning to accept that maybe she just wasn’t going to use the pass. Maybe she had gotten caught up working, or got stuck in the line waiting for food, or maybe she just didn’t want to. He hoped it wasn’t the latter. As he was busy wallowing in self-pity, he had to do a double take when he saw her standing side stage, leaning against one of the support beams with an amused expression. He flashed her a quick corny look, and she waved back at him. Normally he stayed on stage during their fourth rendition of The 1975 to lead by example that everyone else should listen to it as well, but when the song finally finished he practically ran off stage in excitement.

“Fuckin’ hell, I was starting to think you wouldn’t come!” He shouted over the crowd as he grabbed her arm, pulling her further into the backstage area.

“I was busy. Tell your fans to make up their minds on what size they want quicker and I would’ve been here sooner.” She explained as the rest of the band soon filled in the space around them.

He started rifling around in his pockets, eventually pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. He took a deep drag of it before pointing it at her. “I was worried that I’d given you that pass for nothing. You’ve already missed most of the show, y’know.” He was trying his best to sound serious but found it hard to keep the smile out of his voice. Performing and being on stage already gave him enough adrenaline to have to deal with.

“Aw, you were worried?” She quipped back with an eyebrow raised.

“Only on your behalf that you would’ve missed out on this.” He said with a suggestive look as he gestured towards himself in his stage clothes. She had to admit, he looked pretty damn good in the suit that he was wearing. But she’d sooner die than give him the satisfaction of hearing her say that.

“I’m only staying for one song.” She said, deciding to skip over what he had said.

“Whatever you say, love.” He said with a wink.

“One song.” She repeated, giving him a stern look.

“Sure.” He nodded.

Of course, she stayed for four. Or three and a half technically as she wanted to be back at the merch van before all of the concert goers started to try and leave at once. The energy and enthusiasm Matty had held during soundcheck was nothing compared to what he had while performing. He clearly enjoyed being up on stage, and he seemed to get as much energy from his fans as what they got from him. She was beginning to think that the awkward guy who stepped into the merch van earlier that day was, in fact, a different person than the one she was watching now. The sheer level of confidence that he maintained on stage was astounding, he was hard not to watch. And certainly he made sure to make her aware that he knew all eyes were on him. The amount of looks he flashed her way whenever he caught her staring was teetering on ridiculous. Eventually, she knew the show was coming to a close, and that meant that she had to get back to what she was meant to be here to do. She found it hard to leave during her favourite song, especially when she caught sight of the puppy dog eyes Matty was giving her as he saw her leaving, but if she had to fight the crowds on her way back she wouldn’t make it in time for the last rush.

Said rush passed by quite quickly, which was good for them as they had sold out of a lot of items and wanted to start packing everything away sooner rather than later. Her brother had offered for her to go home once the van had shut, but she figured she would stay back and help pack up. Also, she still had to return the lanyard. Which meant that she’d have to see Matty again at some point. Not that seeing him was her entire reason for staying back. That would’ve been absurd. About halfway through boxing up the remaining merch, her brother had started taking the boxes outside to load into the truck and take back tomorrow. She was halfway through loading the last shirts into a box when she suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around her. If she hadn’t vaguely recognised the suit, she certainly recognised the laugh as Matty picked her up in a tight hug. The longer he held her, the more damp her clothes were starting to feel and the more she could smell the salty tang of stage sweat radiating from him. “Ugh… How can you possibly be so sweaty?” She asked, struggling to try and get out of his grip.

“I can get sweatier.” He leaned in close to her ear, adding the second part under his breath, “Wanna find out how?”

“Oh my god, let me go.”

He did as requested with a loud laugh and set her back down on the ground. She turned to face him, seeing that his hair was practically dripping from the amount of sweat in it, and his shirt under his jacket was soaked. But he definitely had some sort of post-concert-glow about him, it very much suited him. A cheesy grin was stuck on his face as he spoke, “You enjoyed the show?” He asked.

“Yeah, it was really good. The effects were quite impressive, and the band is really good live.” She nodded as she finished putting the shirts in the box and moved across the van to where their gear was stashed.

“And?” He prompted.

“And what?” She asked, searching for something in her backpack.

“And what about that fit as hell frontman?” He asked casually.

She let out a deep sigh as she walked back over to him. “I didn’t realise how right you were when you told me earlier that the lead singer of that band was a twat.” She chuckled. Before he had a chance to say something witty back, and before she forgot and got too caught up in the hurricane that was Matty Healy, she handed him back the all access pass.

“Ah, thank you. I need that.” He said as he slipped it into his pocket. “You’ve still got the shirt.” He said with a triumphant smile as he gestured at the tour shirt she was still wearing.

“Don’t get too excited, it’s only because we sold out of hoodies.” She replied.

They were suddenly interrupted by her brother shouting her name down the corridor. “If you’re finally ready to go just put those last few bits on the trolley and meet me at the truck.”

“Can do!” She called back, starting to get everything organised.

“Finally ready to go?” Matty asked as he watched her moving around the van.

“Yeah, we can only start packing up once all the guests leave so it takes a while.” She said with a shrug.

“Finally?” He asked again with as much emphasis on the word as he could muster, the curiosity practically dripping in his tone.

“Oh.” She understood what he was getting at now. “I was actually allowed to leave a while ago.”

“And you didn’t?” He questioned.

“No, we um…” She cleared her throat before continuing. “I said I’d stay back and help pack up.” She answered quietly, expecting him to instantly turn the comment against her.

“That’s very noble of you.” He nodded, looking over the few boxes that were yet to be taken out to the truck. Not the reaction she was expecting.

She continued taping boxes shut and loading things onto the trolley. It was a few minutes before Matty finally spoke again. “Soooo, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?” He asked nonchalantly as he rifled through a box that she had just packed and was waiting to tape shut.

“Will you just?” She questioned as she pulled the box away from him, shutting it properly before he could do any more damage. “What makes you think that I’m free?”

“Are you saying that you’re not?” He challenged with a smirk.

She paused for a long moment, opting to skip the question. “Aren’t you a busy man with things to do and places to be?”

“Not really.” He shrugged, looking around the nearly empty van for something to fiddle with. “I’ve got some press shit to do tomorrow but need to find something to kill time in between. Figured you could come keep me company.” He offered.

“Why?” She asked with a sceptical frown.

“Because you seem to enjoy my presence.” He gravitated towards the box of pins used for hanging the shirts, but she grabbed it before he could.

“Stop fiddling with my merch shit.” She scolded as she slipped the box into their bag of gear and put the last item on the trolley. “And what gave you that impression?”

He leaned back against the counter, waiting for her to face him before he answered. “You could’ve gone home ages ago and you didn’t. You hung around the venue.” He answered with an eyebrow raised. He didn’t need to spell it out for her to get what he was implying. She stayed silent for a long minute, trying to think of an argument against that but coming up empty. But the blush on her cheeks was enough to give her away. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?” He repeated.

“Yes, fine, I guess.” She huffed.

“Good.” He grinned. “I’ll text you where to meet me.”

Next Chapter

#Matty Healy #Matty Healy x Reader #Matthew Healy #Matthew Healy x Reader #Sunsetinmyvein

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thisisthepartwhereyou · 4 years

Text

BEASTARS MINI-STORY #3: “The Pitfalls of Thin Walls pt. 3” by JCL

We're back in Sebun's apartment. Raika looks surprised and bewildered. RAIKA: "Wow, I didn't see that coming!" Ebisu on the other hand looks a little shocked. EBISU: "How can they talk about having kids? They're basically kids themselves!" ZAGUAN: "You think Haru is pregnant with his baby?" Eugen shakes his head at this notion. EUGEN: "The way young people carry on these days, I wouldn't be surprised." Bogue on the other hand nods and looks intrigued as he continues to take notes. BOGUE: "I can see it right now: The hidden condo full of playful little wolf-rabbits. Little... I dunno, what would be the therm, 'wunnies?'" -- Haru begins to cheerfully rant while Legosi looks weirded out. HARU: "There's so many pretty flower names for girls you know. *HIC!*" LEGOSI: (She's not poisoned.. She's DEAD-DRUNK!) HARU: "Rose, Hyacinth, Violet, Daisy, Jasmine, Lily... The list goes on!" Legosi tries to inernally calculate how this could've happened. LEGOSI: (But HOW?! I mean I had some sake in the soba, the way grandad always makes it, but...) Haru begins to pout and begins to scratch her chin in a pondering manner. HARU: "Not a lot of names for boys though, that might be a problem... Hazel? Nah, that's such a typical rabbit name..." LEGOSI: (Wait a minute...!) He grabs Haru by the shoulders in order to gain her full attention. LEGOSI: "Haru, focus. If I poured 1,5 dl of sake into the kind of small cups you have at your family's house, how many cups would I fill?" Haru looks confused; warped scribbles of matemathical equations and numbers holding martiniglasses dance around her head. HARU: "... How many?" She then laughs and gives Legosi a playful slap on the arm. HARU: "SILLY! I can't drink that much! I get tipsy from just one cup, six would just slay me!" Legosi looks horrified. -- Fina facepalms. FINA: "Ooooooh now I see what is going on. You can have liquor in yakisoba right?" The rest of the guys look confused. MUGI: "Yeah?" FINA: "I think that Legosi has made a classic mistake that can sometimes happen when you cook a meal for a smaller animal: He didn't take their different size proportions into consideration." The other guys still look confused. EBISU: "I don't get it." FINA: "It's simple: Lets say he made a meal with proportions adapted for a larger animal like himself, with alcohol." Explanatory illustrations pop up behind Fina as she details what she means. We see a chibi-version of Legosi standing next to a stove, pouring the contents of a flask of sake into a wok containing yakisoba. FINA: "Within those proportions, that amount would have virtually no effect on him." Chibi-Legosi proceeds to eat from a bowl of the same yakisoba. He seems completely unaffected. FINA: "But give it to an animal who has a smaller body to process it, that amount might just be much more potent, and make-" We then go over to a Chibi-Haru who eats from the same kind of bowl. She seems unaffected at first. BOGUE: "That poor little bunny more drunk than a skunk on junk outta some trunk!" Chibi-Haru turns red, puts the bowl on her head and starts to dance drunkedly back and forth. We cut back from this illustration and return to the gang in Sebun's apartment. Zaguan shakes his head sympathetically. ZAGUAN: "Poor Haru, poor Legosi. What bad luck!" -- We're back in Legosi's apartment. Legosi looks incredibly guilty, while Haru looks a little stunned. LEGOSI: "I am so sorry Haru! I didn't mean for this to happen!" HARU: "Oh... So that's why I feel strange..." Then she points and laughs at Legosi. HARU: "Haha, you idiot!" Legosi doesn't seem offended though; just sort of relieved that Haru seems to take this in stride for now. LEGOSI: "Don't worry about it, I'll fix this somehow...!" He gets up in a panic, unsure of what to do. He freezes though as he suddenly hears a voice coming through the wall. EBISU: "Make her some coffee!" -- The gang in Sebun's apartment stares daggers at Ebisu, who is holding down his beak, having realized that he thought WAY too loud just now. Fina hisses at him under her breath. FINA: "Idiot...!" Ebisu looks panicked, but then he suddenly spots a coffee jar on a nearby table with the brand Walker's Instant Coffe printed on the side and gets an idea. EBISU: "W-Walker's Instant Coffee, the brew for every couple!" He then proceeds to sing like it's all part of a commercial jingle, set to the tune of "The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round". EBISU: "Dun-dun-dun, just make her some! Dun-dun-dun, just make her some... He gives the others an imploring look. They get what he's trying to do and joins up in his singing. EVERYONE: "Dun-dun-dun, JUST MAKE HER SOME!" -- Legosi hits his fist in his open hand, completely buying into that it was just a commercial playing next door. LEGOSI: "Coffee, that's a good idea!" He turns around and goes over to the sink, where he grabs a percolator. He opens it and proceeds to fill it with water from the tap. LEGOSI: (And I who thought this kind of stuff only happened in mangas or bad fanfics...!) He suddenly gets a shocked expression though. He turns his head back and looks down to see that Haru has walked over and grabbed his tail. She is proceeding to snuggle with it like it was a stuffed animal. HARU: "I've wanted to touch your tail for the longest time! Heeee it's so warm and fluffy! It's like a steering wheel cover in the winter!" Legosi gives Haru an imploring look. LEGOSI: "Haru... Could you please not touch my tail?" Haru looks up at Legosi in drunken confusion. HARU: "Why? Is there poop on it?" LEGOSI: "NO... Because it is making me a little uncomfortable." HARU: "Oh... Okay." Haru lets go of his tail, looking a bit dissapointed, while Legosi breathes out in relief. LEGOSI: "Phew... HUA!" Legosi looks shocked yet again. It turns out that Haru's attention has moved away from his tail and onto the second best THING. Though we don't see exactly what she grabs, as she is off screen. HARU: "I've wanted have my hands on THIS for the longest time too...!" Legosi looks like he wants to die. LEGOSI: (I AM IN A HELL OF MY OWN MAKING) -- Fina has a little blush on her face. FINA: "I suspect her hands found something else to fondle..!" Zaguan looks a little uncomfortable. ZAGUAN: "Maybe this is getting a little too private?" Bogue on the other hand seem to writing things down in a notebook. BOGUE: "Maybe, but you can't deny it's total gold!" -- Legosi is now carrying Haru in his arms towards his mattress, while she sings a tonedead rendition of Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You". HARU: "And aaaaah-ah-ha-ha *HIC!* Will alwaaaaays love uuuuuu-" Legosi looks anything but enthused by Haru's musical aspirations. LEGOSI: "Haru please... My neighbors will hear you...!" At this, a text bubble with a large sweatdrop spawns from the wall behind them, illustrating the neighbor's sense of irony. Legosi proceeds to put Haru down as carefully as possible. He leans down and gives her an assuring smile. LEGOSI: "Just lie down here for a while. You'll be back to normal in no time." He's about to rise up, but Haru grabs him by his t-shirt. HARU: "Hey... " LEGOSI: "Hm?" She has a come-hither sort look in her eyes. HARU: "... You're not gonna leave just yet, are you?" LEGOSI: "I, um, well...!" HARU: "There's a pretty girl lying underneath you, intoxicated and vulnerable... It hasn't crossed your mind, has it? *HIC!*" LEGOSI: "Wha-wha-what are we talking about?" Haru raises her other hand and proceeds to caress Legosi's cheek. HARU: "To take advantage of the situation. Full and complete, ADVANTAGE." Haru speaks the last of this line with such a low voice, that it is obvious to everyone except the completely stone-deaf that it is an invite. -- Most of the gang in Sebun's apartment has gone red in the face, the exception being Raika and Zaguan, who looks relatively calm. Fina begins to speak in a nervous and high-pitched voice. FINA: "Oo-ho-ho-ho-kay, maybe we should stop listening now!" Raika waves this away though. RAIKA: "It'll be fine, we all know Legosi. He's too much of a gentleman." Zaguan nods at this. ZAGUAN: "Agreed. He would never do something so clearly amoral." -- Legosi grabs Haru's hand and gently (but firmly) removes it from his cheek. LEGOSI: "You´re drunk Haru, of course I wouldn't!" -- Raika smiles and points at the wall. RAIKA: "See? He's a regular Gregory Peck!" The others look a bit relieved. -- Haru suddenly sits up and looks Legosi straight in the eye, a sudden sharpness appearing in her gaze. HARU: "What if I said I'm not as drunk as you think, and I'd like you to?" RAIKA: "OH HOT DIGGEDY DAMN!" Both Legosi and Haru turn their heads to look at the wall. The sudden outcry is then followed by a loud acapella-styled jingle. EVERYONE: "DUN-DUN-DUN! JUST MAKE HER SOME!" HARU: "What the hell?" Legosi's large, muscular arm moves past Haru's face. She looks up, and Legosi appears to be leaning in to kiss her. Haru swallows, thinking that Legosi is about to accept her invitation. But then we see that Legosi was merely reaching for the pillow next to his mattress, which he places behind Haru. He sits back and gives her mature look. LEGOSI: "I'd say you're still drunk, and it would still be wrong." He then grabs her with both hands and pulls her back, putting her head down against the pillow with a gentle, yet strict, care. LEGOSI: "Now lie back, while I make you some coffee." He stands up and walks back to the sink. Haru looks a bit annoyed, kind of like a kid that has been sent to bed early because she wouldn't eat hear vegetables. HARU: "... Fine." -- The gang in Sebun's apartment looks relieved beyond belief, almost collapsing from the whole ordeal. RAIKA: "The force is strong in that one..." -- TEXT: LATER, AND ABOUT 5 MINUTES BEFORE SEBUN COMES HOME. Haru and Legosi are now sitting next to each other on the mattress, both holding a cup of coffee in their hands. Haru is much more sober now and looks ashamed. HARU: "I am sorry." LEGOSI: "Don't be. It was my fault to begin with." HARU: "But I acted like a complete idiot... I fondled your naughty bits and asked you to take advantage of me...! God I must be so screwed up!" LEGOSI: "I... Think everyone does something they normally wouldn't do when they've had too much to drink. Or in your case, eat food filled with booze." Haru gives Legosi a sad look. HARU: "But I made you uncomfortable. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Not when you're so nice to me... It's frustrating you know, cause it seems like I can't do anything for you. I just want to do something for you in return and I don't know what..." Legosi blinks. He puts a hand on Haru's shoulder. LEGOSI: "Haru... You know why we can't go too fast. Our instincts tell us one thing, and that is either to eat or get eaten, and we don't want either to happen." HARU: "I know... But our heads and hearts, they want us to do nice things to each other, because that's what people do when they care about each other. I mean, you work so hard to make this work, and now you're making me dinner too? It just doesn't feel fair somehow... It's kind of like Christmas when you exchange gifts; you feel guilty when you don't have anything to give back." Legosi stares at Haru. She sighs, gets up and proceeds to pace back and forth. HARU: "I know it's stupid, but I just feel bad about not having given or sacrificed enough compared to you. I mean you dropped out of school, you're covered in scars, you work your butt off in a restuarant and get involved in all kinds of shady stuff, all for me. Meanwhile, I just keep going to school, I have a good relationship with my family, I don't have any problem with money and I'm not even bullied anymore! I mean be honest with me, doesn't any of that bother you?!" As she turns to Legosi with a frustrated expression, she suddenly trips over the carpet and almost falls over. Legosi reacts with lighting-fast reflexes and catches her. She looks up at him, and he gives her a serious look. LEGOSI: "It doesn't bother me a bit. What kind of person would I be if I wished my girlfriend's life sucked? You make me feel good, just being you. Coming to visit me, letting me come to visit you and your family, talking to me, looking at me with no fear... You don't have to feel oblidged to sleep with me because I cooked you a meal. This isn't a third world country you know." Haru blinks, then gets a shy expression on her face. She looks away with a wobbly smile and begins to run her finger across Legosi's forearm. HARU: "Hey... Since when did you start to act so adult?" Legosi smiles in response. LEGOSI: "I'd say you're rubbing off on me, and I like it." -- We're back in Sebun's apartment, where the whole gang seems to be nearly moved to tears. Ebisu is rubbing some away as he speaks. EBISU: "That guy is my fricking hero...!" Bogue on the other hand is biting into his notebook with tears running down his cheeks. BOGUE: "I'll have to dedicate my next book to them. They are so inspirational!" Fina smiles with a proud look on her face. FINA: "Gregory Peck can throw something old over himself." All of them look up though as they hear the door opening. TEXT: SEBUN IS HOME -- Haru's ears suddenly flickers. She appears to have noticed something, and she moves her hand up to her nose. She sniffs it and then gives off an amused little giggle. HARU: "Nope, it's still here." LEGOSI: "What is?" HARU: "The smell. I think I was mistaken earlier. It wasn't the apartment. It's probably coming from you." Legosi looks embarassed. LEGOSI: "Oh..." Haru grabs his big hand with her two small ones, takes it to her face and presses her nose against his fingers. HARU: "Don't worry about it." She looks up, and her eyes meets with his. They got more tenderness in them than the entirety of "Love me tender." HARU: "I like your smell..." Legosi blushes heavily and swallows. LEGOSI: "..." (Her touch, her eyes, they're so full of warmth) He grabs both of her hands in his, and begins to lean down closer. Haru looks up. LEGOSI: "Haru..." HARU: "Hm?" She sees in his eyes that there's something Legosi wants; coincidentally, the same thing that she wants. Her eyes begin to glitter with anticipation. HARU: (Really? Now? Is he finally ready, so that we can... we can... finally ki-) She raises her head, he lowers his, they both ready their lips and are about to proceed when: SEBUN: "LIKE HELL YOU CAN!" The sudden, loud voice coming from next door startles them both. Especially Haru, who jumps up and grabs Legosi around the throat. Legosi on the other hand gets so surprised that he trips backwards to the kotetsu, which he violently crashes into. -- Their screams and the violent crash is heard next door, turning into the exact same scene at the end of part 1. SEBUN: “… Did you say.. That Legosi was making her dinner?” -- We see the disastrous result of the crash in Legosi's apartment. He is sitting in the wok atop the collapsed kotatsu. Both he and Haru, who is lying atop of him, are covered head to toe in yakisoba. Legosi looks tired. LEGOSI: "You know what, maybe we'll just go out and eat next time." Haru looks like she's in a murderous state of mind. HARU: (I am gonna kill that woman next door...!) TO BE CONTINUED...

#the pitfalls of thin walls #legosi x haru #beastars #fanfiction #script style #sebun #zaguan #bogue #raika #fina #mugi #eugen #ebisu #part 3 #jcl

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jflashandclash · 4 years

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Tales From Mount Othrys

Ajax: Fidget Spinners XIII (FINAL FINaLLY)

“Pax Two, how am I supposed to trust you as one of my spies if this is what you do when I call in a favor?”

Pax squirmed.

He was often uncertain whether or not Mercedes was joking. Her dark eyes tended to be a mask of seriousness, leading others to believe she had no sense of humor. Pax knew better. Or he thought he had.

“What did I ask you to do?” she asked.

They were standing in the last spot he’d seen her before going to Tartarus. As much as he tried to convince her and the others that Tartarus had been a picnic and that they should seriously consider the touristism possibilities, Luke’s amnesia and everyone’s injuries said otherwise. Once Pax was okayed to walk around the ship, he was immediately called into the spy barracks.

“What did I ask you to do?” Mercedes asked. Her hair was swept back by a beige hijab today. Pax could see a pin poking out of the right side of the material and wondered if she’d put it on in a hurry. He loved teasing her when one of her pins—either the one on the upper side or the one at the base of her chin—was visible.

Today was not a good day to tease her.

“What did I ask you to do, Pax two?” she said again when he gave no response.

After a few days bed rest, this was not the reception he had been expecting. He had hoped for balloon animals that he could pop them around the unsuspecting. That’s what Matthias would have given him. As far as Pax could tell, Matthias hadn’t been allowed to see him. No one had.

Pax had been grounded. Why bother escaping your homicidal, psychopathic family if you’re just going to get grounded by a slightly less homicidal, psychopathic family? he mused.

Today was also not a day to ask that question.

“Why bother—” Pax started to say despite that conclusion. When he caught sight of Mercedes’ dark eyes, he looked down at his combat boots. “I never agreed not to go,” he said.

The last few days of bed rest, he’d been working on something for her. He had it in his jacket pocket, making the whole thing bulge like the least conspicuous puppy smuggling. Pax twisted the fabric in his hands.

“Lies are an intent to deceive, not just a statement of untruth. I will not work with someone who bases their interpretation of orders off technicalities, especially when they know those interpretations are erroneous, Ajax.”

Ajax. Not Pax Two. Not Pax. Now, Pax understood why Mercedes said to guard his name. He’d started to attach a mysticism to it and enjoyed thinking of when Alabaster would say it. Hearing her say it like that was a whip to the face.

Pax wanted to say something. He wanted Mercedes to use her typical witticisms to tease him, to make him struggle to keep up with the conversation. He didn’t like her speaking this straight forward or with such a harsh tone.

“I don’t mind your evasions and deceptions when matters are trivial, and I don’t mind when you do it to others. I, in fact, encourage you to become practiced with others. But, anytime it involves a mission or anytime it involves secret information you get from me, or anytime someone could die—”

“Banana peels are prevalent on the ship,” Pax blurted, trying to keep his tone carefree. It came out a whisper and got quieter as he mumbled, “I could slip on one and die at any moment. Does that count?”

There was silence in the spy barracks.

Pax dared to glance up. He caught sight of Mercedes’ hand. It was curled into a fist and shaking. Otherwise, she was eerily still.

Today, Pax realized, was a day to admit he had screwed up royally.

“Luke—or someone who has been feeding his memories back to him—now suspects me of leaking information about his trip to Tartarus,” Mercedes said. Her clenched fingers eased.

Pax almost choked. He looked up at her eyes. “Did he give you any?”

“No, but he thinks I’ve been snooping through his files,” she said, giving Pax a look that implied he was supposed to get what that sentence meant.

“But—but you wouldn’t use that information for evil—”

She sighed. Pax remembered her saying that she had a lot of brothers. It was a sigh Axel often did around Pax. He wondered if it was an older sibling thing. “You and I know that Pax. I’m less worried about me. I’m worried about what they’ll find if they start going through surveillance footage.”

Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them. “My training. B-but, we did that to simulate field experience in a controlled environment.” His mind spun over the document’s he had pulled from the captain’s quarters. He was illiterate. It was guesswork. “You didn’t have me—”

“No. You were mostly gathering receipts so we could figure out which brand Luke uses to get his hair that stiff. I figured I could use it as a good bargaining tool with Matthias,” she said, “Any idiot with ears and a pension for listening to gossip could put together Luke, Jack, and Axel were going on a covert mission to Hell.”

And that same person could easily find out that Pax and Lou Ellen had gone after them. No wonder Alabaster had caught up to them so quickly. All Mercedes had to do was check up on Pax’s cabin, see his utility belt was gone, hear that Matthias and Alabaster hadn’t seen him or Lou Ellen, and she’d know where they went.

But, how could she think he wouldn’t go after his brother? She told him the when and where. That was basically like saying not to run after an ice cream truck when the ice cream was free and delivered with complimentary kittens.

Pax remembered the two favors she’d use to assure he wouldn’t go anywhere. His indignation faltered. She’d nullified one of her favors by tapping his bell and used another to keep him here. She was right. If truth could be told through implications, so could untruth. He had lied to her. Pax often enjoyed jumping around the truth. He didn’t like outright lying.

“I’ll give you double the number of favors—” he said.

“Favors mean nothing if you prove not to honor them.” She placed her hands on her hips.

That almost sent him to tears. Her hard stare might work as a Mortal Kombat finishing move. Pax swallowed, scared he might tear the hijab in his pocket if he gripped it any tighter.

“You need to earn back my trust, Ajax. That doesn’t mean doing things you want to do anyway or following orders you would follow regardless. If you’ll try to have a brain, you’ll know it means the orders you don’t like too,” she said.

There was a long silence. Between the heat in his cheeks and the wetness of his eyes, he wondered if he could mimic the climate of Belize in this room.

She didn’t move. He wondered if she’d turn her back on him in an abrupt fashion. Instead, those dark eyes bore into him.

Like she never wanted to see him again.

Pax took a step closer to her. He swallowed again, knowing that bursting into tears would make things worse. That’s how it was with his Chiich, too.

“M-Mercedes, please don’t make me go,” he whispered. “I’ll do anyth—”

Pax liked being around Mercedes. He wanted to impress her and become her number one spy. He enjoyed her goofy drills, the wry humor she pretended not to have, her smile—she didn’t smile enough.

Right now, he was the reason she wasn’t smiling. He wished he could burrow into a carnivorous rabbit’s hole as an offering to the gods of regret.

He was shaking.

“Mercedes…” Pax whispered. “I’m sorry…” There was no way out of this. He had messed up big time. Apologies weren’t enough. Maybe he really wasn’t suited to be her spy in a field where they would need to trust each other so much.

Pax swallowed again, trying to look as adult as he could as the childish question came out of his lips. “Can I give you a hug?” he asked, taking a step forward. He couldn’t leave the room like that. Mercedes wasn’t just the spymaster. She was his friend. “Before I leave?”

Mercedes flinched, making Pax flinch. She didn’t storm out or glare at him. The request choked her up for a moment. He’d taken another step, able to smell the coffee scent that clung to her hijab, before she could speak. “Don’t think you can melt my anger by being a worse parasite than usual.”

The words should have been angry, but her tone wasn’t. It was cracking.

Pax hugged her, wrapping his arms around her arms and waist. This was a friend he always wanted to hug, but never had. It felt weird doing it under these circumstances.

She should have hit him or yelled at him. She didn’t hug him back. What she did was far worse.

Pax could feel something wet splash onto his neck.

She was crying.

Pax had made Mercedes cry.[1] Sometimes, she acted so adult, he forgot she was only a year older than him. By going on a seeming suicide mission to Hades, he had made her worry. She really didn’t think he was going to go. Now, he felt worse, the guilt deepening into a drowning pool with each tear. “Mercedes,” he whispered into the material covering her neck. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure I never disappoint you again.”

Mercedes tried to clear her throat. She bent her head slightly. “You’re a highly effective parasite,” she mumbled. “Don’t try to get yourself killed again. Unless I tell you to.”

Pax nodded against the material.

“Also…”

She waited until he pulled back to look her in the face. The tears were gone, the only evidence a slight redness to her acne-flecked cheeks. Her gaze was hard. “Don’t hug me. Unless I tell you to.”

Pax immediately let go and took two huge steps backwards. He should stop there. He knew it. But his mouth was already moving. “Will that ever happen?”

“Ask me on a day that I don’t feel like throwing you overboard and the only thing restraining me isn’t paperwork,” she said, folding her arms.

Pax nodded, taking another step backwards, recognizing that she was even angrier for crying in front of him. He had an older sister. He knew how that could go. “I’m going to go brainstorm ways to make this up to you,” he said.

Her gaze narrowed. “Wise.”

Pax sprinted out of the spy wing. Mercedes might have been acting like she was fine at the end, but he made a quick promise as he ran. “I swear on the River Styx,” he whispered, “As much as I can help it, to never be the reason Mercedes cries again.”[2]

Thanks for reading! I hope you guys enjoyed this never-ending romp through Hell! :D (Oh, gods, it’s like a metaphor for current events.) Next week will probably be a break week for me, then we’ll come back with a one-shot Luke story, Two-Toned Memories about why Luke didn’t get to see Annabeth before she took Atlas’ burden.

[1] https://tenor.com/7Bth.gif

Is it bad that I laughed through writing this whole scene because of this gif? I’m not sorry.

[2] *drum roll for Pax having bad luck throughout all of Traitors of Olympus*

#Tales from Mount Othrys #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #PJO #HOO #TFMO #writing #Dear Pax--please stop making oaths you can't keep. You're EXHAUSTING my ability to fuck you over. Sincerely #And yours truly-Styx

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wildernessuntothemselves · 5 years

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Oppa Knows Best | Part 1

Word Count: 6k Genre: Smut, Angst Summary: If there is anything a lot of people can agree on when it comes to college, it’s that college is about much more than just education; it’s a whole transformative experience. The person you were before college is not the same person you will be after college, and no one knows the truth of that statement quite like you do. You just didn’t expect to change so much so fast. A/N: this is like my fifth friends to lovers story and there is no sign of me stopping any time soon lmao Warnings: This story contains a very unbalanced power dynamic between the two main characters that is unhealthy and shouldn’t be tolerated irl. If someone treats you this way irl please run. This is a fictional story and the plot is basically just a vehicle for the smut. Contains slutshaming and controlling behavior. Also the dirty talk is painfully corny and pornolike so be warned lol. Oppa kink if it wasn’t obvious.

Even though you and Jaehyun were only one year apart in age, he had always babied you, to the extent that the one year you were forced to be apart for the first time since you came onto this earth—on account of him beating you to college first—you spent it lost and adrift like a puppy trying to find its way back to its owner.

Which was completely ridiculous and melodramatic since, during that year you spent apart, Jaehyun never let a day go by in which you didn’t talk to each other. He called or texted you every single day no matter how busy he got and basically kept in better contact with you than even your school friends whom you saw every day. But still, his physical presence was something else. When it came time for you to go to college, there was no question about which one you’d choose, and he didn’t even bother to ask before bringing you all the papers that you would need in order to apply to the same college he attended. He guided you every step of the way lest you make any mistake and get rejected, and before you knew it, you were under your guardian angel’s wings again. Everything was as it should be. Your world was back on track. All the pieces fell—wait, what did he say? He thinks you should get some space from him? What the fuck is he on? You had this whole thing planned ever since you were little kids, and he seemed to be fully on board with that plan up until now. Isn’t that the entire reason you were here?

“I’ve been on your back ever since you were born, but this is college, angel. You’re supposed to let loose a little and experience new things, and you can’t do that if I’m always around you like a second shadow. You’re on the same campus as me so I can still get to keep an eye on you and keep you safe. I don’t need to be your roommate too and be all up in your business all the time. You need a little space to grow and discover yourself.”

He had explained it all so eloquently, so maturely; it made you want to gag. Who the fuck said you wanted space? It sure as hell wasn’t you. The entire reason you chose this college was so you can re-suture your hip to his and never separate again. If you had wanted space, there were a million other places you could’ve gone to instead of here. His whole explanation sounded like bullcrap to you, and it was just so unlike him. Your Jaehyun, Mr. overprotective in the flesh, telling you that he should back off and let you get loose? Yeah, you’re calling bullshit on this.

It didn’t take you long to find out the real reason why he refused to room with you, and it was just so typical, you actually burst out laughing in spite of the pain when you had caught him red-handed. You see, Jaehyun has developed a curious little womanizing streak in your absence. It was both unexpected and entirely predictable. Jaehyun was a man after all, and he had spent his whole life being the exemplary good boy who every mother wished her son would be more like. The only girl he interacted with beyond some cordial, totally neutered socialization was you, and you can unfortunately testify that your relationship was nothing more than an older brother-little sister type of thing. So of course odds were that he would give in to his physical needs eventually, and they say that the more repressed you were, the more freaky the meltdown gets. To his credit, he tried to shield innocent, little you from his promiscuous ways, but alas, he was doomed to fail from the start. You just can’t hide your rendezvous when you’ve gone through half the student body already. Yup, shit sure got freaky. You wouldn’t have been nearly as crushed about this new development if it weren’t for how stupidly in love with him you are. Yes, stupid, dumb, idiotic you had to be every fucking cliché in the book and go and fall in love with your handsome, charming best friend who, of course, saw you as nothing other than a little sister. It was easy to delude yourself back home where your entire world was only a few blocks wide and Jaehyun’s sole attention was on you, but now he has dozens of beautiful women willing to warm his bed every night, and he’s burning through them like he was hell-bent on making up for the years of celibacy he had endured back home. Still you had enough sense of humor and self-awareness to laugh your ass off at the look on his face when you busted him. For a hot second, he tried to claim that the woman he was in bed with, who he didn’t even know the last name of, was his girlfriend and not the night’s flavor. You had sat there and listened to him dig himself into a progressively bigger hole until his partner finally cracked from the awkwardness and exposed his ass.

As much as you wanted to hate him for lying to you and, most importantly, for being with anyone who wasn’t you, you really couldn’t. He remained the same Jaehyun you’ve always known, always around and always there for you. He never let you down. It’s just that you now knew he wasn’t some kind of pure angel, but a grown man with needs and a very healthy sexual appetite. You could no longer continue to live in a fantasy world of your making where he was going to proclaim his love for you any minute now so you can go on and live the happily ever after you’ve been promised by every movie ever. You couldn’t even go the easy route and hate the women he slept with, call them sluts and whores and claim you’re so much better than them. Truth is, if you were in their place, you would’ve slept with him too. Who wouldn’t? He’s handsome and sweet and smart and the sun shines out of his ass. Any girl would be lucky to have him even if just for a night. You could only wish you were so lucky. But despite how so uncharacteristically rational you were about this whole thing—and you gotta admit, you were damn proud of yourself for it—it was all still so surreal, and that feeling, that weird emptiness that came to reside in your chest in place of the fanciful love that once bloomed there, couldn’t be shaken off by any number of rational arguments or self-reflection. And you didn’t know what you had to do to fill that void so it wouldn’t swallow you whole. It messed with your head sometimes, the emptiness; it told you that this was all his fault. It said that he had tricked you into wasting your life on him, that he purposefully fed into your delusion by the inordinate amount of attention and love he lavished on you. It spoke to you of how differently your life could’ve been if you had known how he felt from the start. For one, you wouldn’t have planned your whole life around him. And now you were stuck, forced to keep living in the ghost town you had built for him. So, desperate enough to take another page out of the book of clichés you so loved, you decided that since your years worth of love for him couldn’t possibly be replaced by the tepid, superficial affections that came with crushes and brand new relationships, you were just gonna have to go old school and fuck the bad feelings away. And surprisingly, it worked. For a couple of months, you attended every party on campus you could get into and refused to head home until you had someone in toe. It was awkward at first, for someone with zero experience like yourself, but you had lost the love of your life and were determined to find even a little bit of pleasure in this hell you suddenly found yourself thrown into. That determination paid off, and soon, you were floating high off your sexual awakening and all the new kinds of pleasure that came with it. Before coming to college, you never really thought about sex all that much, just the occasional guilty session where you’d rub one out to the thought of Jaehyun’s hands on you and him telling you what to do like he always did in real life. But those were few and far between and you always felt bad about it afterwards. Now it was entirely different. You reveled in your encounters. It felt good to allow yourself to feel pleasure and share it with someone who genuinely desired you. You got off on it—the effect you had on your partners. Contrary to how your dynamic was and is with Jaehyun, you were shocked to discover how much you enjoyed being the one in control every once in a while. It was much more than just sex to you, it was like discovering a whole other aspect of yourself that you never knew existed and would’ve never known about had Jaehyun not broken your heart. You were enjoying yourself and experiencing new things, just like he told you to, so it was just so fucking hilarious to see him right now, angry and pissed off at you for following the very same advice he gave you. You had noticed the building tantrum a week before it got bad enough for him to confront you about it. He always happened to be at the same parties you attended, and whenever you looked his way, he was always watching you, an ugly grimace on his face and an ominous look in his eyes that told you he was seconds away from ripping apart the person who was daring to touch you limb by limb. He was furious and visibly not in control of his emotions. Perhaps that was the reason why you could decipher another emotion in his eyes that you never saw directed at you before, desire. You didn’t know if it really was the first time he looked at you that way or if he always has but knew better to hide it, but that shit was like a drug to you, and you did everything in your power in order to fan that flame. You wore progressively more revealing clothes and acted progressively more wanton. You made sure he always had a good view of you as you put yourself in all kinds of compromising positions. All your hard efforts culminated to this—him dragging you behind him to his dorm room after he snatched you away from the arms of your dance partner, whom you were practically dry humping on the dance floor. Jaehyun flings you through the door and slams it behind him, his demeanor chilling. You’ve never seen him this angry before. You genuinely didn’t think that your guardian angel was capable of looking this menacing but somehow you managed to get him to this stage. It didn’t help that his bangs, which were normally styled down to give him a soft and fluffy look, were now sleeked back, making his features look severe and accentuating the fury in his eyes. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh? What happened to you?” “Enjoying my college life?” You hold your head high, refusing to feel belittled by him. “Weren’t you the one who told me to?” “I meant make friends and join clubs, not be the first contender for the title of campus whore!“ He shouts. You knew Jaehyun was drunk, catastrophically so, otherwise he wouldn’t dream of using that tone with you, let alone call you a whore, but it still pissed you off. You also happened to be equally as drunk as he is and fully prepared to retaliate. “Kinda hard to win that contest when you’re the reigning king. Or is it ok and cool when you fuck a different person every night but it’s dirty when I do it? I never took you to be so sexist, oppa.” “Don’t play dumb, ___. It doesn’t matter what I think of it. You could pretend we live in an ideal world all you want and that a woman and a man can be treated equally, but this is the real world, sweetheart, and it’s ugly and unfair, and it doesn’t care about those naïve ideals you have cooked up in your pretty little head.” Jaehyun gets up in your face and taps on your skull with his fingers, mocking you. “The fact is that a man can sleep around and not catch any flack for it. Hell, he might even be idolized. But a woman like you does it and the size of her tits and how tight or loose her pussy is are the talk of every guy on campus. You may be enjoying yourself now but it won’t be so fun for you when you realize that you’ve made it so all the guys here think you’re only good for being a warm wet hole for them to stick their dicks into.” You were hurt. Jaehyun has never talked to you like that before. Even during his worst moments, he always took care to choose his words carefully so he wouldn’t hurt you, but now it seemed like he wanted to hurt you. He was being vindictive and petty and nothing at all like the Jaehyun you knew, and it hurt you so bad but it also made you angry beyond belief. You weren’t stupid. You were perfectly aware of how fucked up this world is, but he’s your best friend and he’s supposed to be your slice of utopia in this world. That’s what he had always been. Even if the world was unfair, he always supported you and offered you reprise from it, not parroted the bigotry back at you and made you feel like you have to accept it. If all the guys on campus really thought that way about you then they could go fuck themselves. Anyone who adheres to that ridiculous double standard isn’t worth you wasting a single thought on them. The problem lied in the person that already meant the world to you and yet chose to treat you the same way all those fuckers did. “Do you see me as a hole to stick your dick into as well, oppa? Is that why you’re so fired up about this?” He gapes at you, scandalized. “Are you insane? Don’t talk like that.” “Why? It’s the truth. I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me lately. Your dick wants to fuck this easy pussy, but your head is all conflicted about it because I’m your innocent, little girl and you’re not supposed to be thinking that way about me.” “You must be out of your fucking mind.” He hisses, and it really amazes you how he seemed to be getting angrier by the minute. You didn’t think it was humanely possible, but here he is reaching new heights with it. It should scare you off and that is clearly his intention, but the defensive undertone to his words rung clear in your ears and piqued a dangerous blend of curiosity and self-righteousness within you that urged you to expose him for all his lies. He was standing so close to you that you only had to raise your hand in order to place it on his chest, “It’s ok, oppa. You’re a man too.” You slowly trail your hand up and down his firm torso, your ears attuned to the way his breathing got less steady with each pass of your hand over his lower stomach. “You’ve spent your whole life trying to distance yourself from the perverted and less civilized of your gender but this whole thing is forcing you to realize that you’re just like them, and all it took were showing a little bit of skin and being a little provocative for you to get off your high horse and deal with the fact that you want to wreck your little angel.” Your hand slides up to latch onto the nape of his neck, nails scratching lightly at the small hairs they find there. “You talk about other men, but it’s really you who is thinking those dirty things about me, right, oppa?” Jaehyun remains frozen and unresponsive, but you could practically feel the barely suppressed anger unfurling under his skin. “So are you going to grow a pair and do something about it or are you going to continue hiding behind your fake concerns?” A tick in his jaw is all the warning you get before he’s grabbing a hold of you and bending you over the arm of the couch. Your shout of indignation cuts off into a sharp cry when you feel his large hand smack your ass. He might as well have slapped you right on the face for the flush that instantly colors it red. But it won’t be alone for long as Jaehyun seems intent on turning your ass even redder than your face is, delivering harsh, incessant smacks to both cheeks. “You just don’t know how to shut up, do you? You think you’re too grown to listen to your oppa anymore, huh? You think this is all fun and games?” He growls. “Oppa! What are you doing?” You shriek out. You were beside yourself with humiliation. Yes, you were goading him just a second ago but you never imagined he would actually do something like this! He chuckles mirthlessly, not stopping his assault. If anything he spanks you harder. “Where did the confident, sexually forward woman go? You’re gonna act all innocent now that you’re faced with the consequences of your actions? Well that’s too bad, angel, it’s a little late for that. If you wanna go around wearing big girl panties and acting like a slut, then you’ll be treated like one.” Fuck, this was so wrong, not just because of the degrading position and the way he was speaking down to you, but because of how much it was actually turning you on. The rumble in his voice and the rough, open-handed strikes he pelts your ass with do nothing but make you squirm with arousal. As you’re stuck trying to juggle between coming to terms with the embarrassing effect he has on you and simultaneously trying to hide it from him, you get struck with a sudden epiphany. You realize now why you had always allowed him to control your life; simply, you enjoyed it. You were just blissfully unaware of how much you’d enjoy him forcing you to submit to him. “Look at this, your skirt isn’t even covering your ass properly. Such a fucking slut.” He tuts, his hand taking a reprise from spanking you to rub over your red, exposed skin. “I can fucking see your pussy from here.” To prove his point, he insinuates his hand between your thighs, his fingers easily coming into contact with said panties. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He purred, thrilled by your body’s honesty. “You like this, don’t you? You know you deserve to be punished.” Impatient, he rips the panties down your legs and hurries to put his fingers on you again, moaning in appreciation when they touch the bare, velvety skin. “See? You’re a good girl. You just needed oppa to remind you.” Hearing him praise you like that, you couldn’t help yourself; you feel your pussy clenching around nothing, causing a small dribble of arousal to come out of your hole and coat Jaehyun’s fingers. “Damn, you really are needy. Now I see why you’re sleeping around so much. You can’t help yourself. You need someone to fill you up and take care of the ache in your pussy. Do you want me to do that for you, baby girl? Do you need oppa to stuff you with his cock and make the pain go away?” You feel yourself on the verge of tears, humiliated like you’ve never been before. Jaehyun is making you sound like some kind of a sex-crazed nymphomaniac which you weren’t at all, but it was hard to argue his point when just the light touch of his fingers on your pussy and the faint whiff of his cologne that permeated the air were making you hyperventilate. Feeling embarrassed but desperate, you push your ass back onto his finger and whine, hoping he would take some pity on you and spare you the degradation of having to say it outloud. He responds to that by removing his fingers entirely to deliver two cruel smacks to your already red and sore ass, his wet fingers leaving sticky stains on your cheeks. “That’s not how we ask for something, brat.” “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You wail, “It just hurts so bad!” “Where does it hurt, baby?” He coos, pretending to be concerned. He trails two fingers up and down your slit a few times before they settle against your hole, dipping inside shallowly. “Here?” “Yes! Please, oppa.” You cry out in frustration, putting all your effort into stopping yourself from pushing your ass back again to take his fingers deeper into you. He hums, pleased with your answer, and rewards you by pushing his fingers all the way inside you, the width of them stinging a bit, but it still felt better than anything you’ve ever experienced before. Guess it’s true that sex with someone you love feels intensifies everything. You were getting so close already, and you try to pull your legs together to rub them against each other, but Jaehyun places himself between them and forces them back apart, smacking your ass with his free hand then massaging where he hit when he hears you whimpering in pain. “You’ve done so well already, don’t misbehave now.” He pumps his fingers in and out of you, and your legs shake with the effort to hold yourself up and keep them spread. Jaehyun notices your distress right away,“Oh, are you close, angel?” He taunts, “Are you that needy? Or do you just want oppa so bad?” “Please, can I cum?” You deflect the question, not feeling up to the effort it would take to lie to him but also not prepared to reveal your lifelong crush on him while you were bent over the couch getting fingered by him. That’s not what your nine year old self imagined it going at all. He sighs, but lets you get away with it. “Yes, sweetheart, you can cum.” “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” You repeat like a mantra, feeling a sense of unrivaled euphoria ravage your body at how good his fingers feel inside you and how long you’ve been waiting for it. You’re boneless by the time your orgasm dies down, leaving you exhausted and vulnerable to the effects of the alcohol that was finally taking a toll on you. So when you hear the sounds of a zipper going down and a foil package getting ripped opened, you whine insolently, worried that your poor tired body might not be able to survive getting fucked by him if he continues being this rough with you. “Hush, brat.” He slaps you, this time over your sensitive pussy making you spasm in shock before falling boneless again. He gathers you in his arms and lays you on your back on the couch, pulling your thighs tight against your chest. Keeping your legs spread and heels in the air, he pushes himself inside you, grunting, “Take my cock like a good girl. This is what you wanted after all.” When he’s all the way inside you, his breath leaves him in a shaky sigh, and he takes a moment before he starts moving. But when he does, he doesn’t hold back, snapping his hips into you as hard as he had smacked your ass earlier, as if intending to make this into a punishment as well. It was certainly just as humiliating, for he pushes your top and bra up to your chin so he could leer at your breasts as they bounce up and down with every thrust while his hands keep your legs spread wide with your heels up in the air. You felt every bit the slut he was accusing you of being, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from drenching his cock in your juices, overwhelmed by a crude sense of pleasure at being manhandled and used by him, at having the man you’ve loved all your life claiming you in such a primal way. “Fuck, you’re tightening up.” He drawls, the words heavy on his tongue as he snaps his hips into you harder to overcome the resistance. Are you gonna cum again? You like my cock that much. baby?” You turn your head to the side, trying to bury your face in the cushions to hide from him, but Jaehyun doesn’t allow it. He stops his movement and tugs on your hair sharply, forcing you to face him again. He bends down so his upper body is draped over you, his face mere inches from yours. The new position has his other hand pressing your thigh harder against your chest, making it cramp, and you whimper in pain. “Oppa, it hurts.” “Say it, angel.” He lets go of your thigh and moves his hand to your lower abdomen, his thumb hovering just above your clit. “Tell oppa how much you like his cock and I’ll let you cum again.”

His gaze pierces yours, ordering more than asking you to obey him, and it’s a crime how sexy he looks even as his skin glistens and his bangs stick to his forehead with sweat. His figure looms over yours and he exudes a dominance you were no match for. You never were. So, meekly, submissively, you give him what he wants. “I like it so much.” “Like what?” His gaze doesn’t free yours as his hips pick up the pace again. It smolders, lighting your every nerve ending on a fire that is fanned by the grunts and moans that escape through his clenched teeth as he feels your walls clenching down on him. “Your cock, oppa. I like your cock so much.” You really did. His cock fills you up just right, just a little bit too big so it give you that delicious burn as it forces its way between your walls, but not too big to actually hurt you. All that sleeping around must’ve did wonders for his skills because he knew just how to move his hips, which angle to hit to make your mind go blank and submit to him. “Please let me cum on your cock.” You whine, fearing that the overwhelming pleasure might short-circuit your heart if it didn’t find a release soon. “Plea—AH, fuck, Jae, Jae!” It only takes a couple of flicks of his thumb to have you spasm around him. He fucks you through it, grunting with effort as your walls get even tighter, making it harder for him to keep fucking you, but he doesn’t stop. Your orgasm feels never ending as he drags it out in order to reach his own, stretching your nerves thin with the over stimulation. Finally, finally, his hips stutter and he give you one last brutal thrust before he groans and collapses over you. His sweaty body, his hot breaths in the crook of your neck, and his cock throbbing inside of you as he cums almost suffocate you. The heat of him around you, inside of you, is overwhelming, and you feel like you’re trapped inside a furnace. Just before you start gasping for breath, he gets off of you, taking care to not let the condom slip inside of you as he pulls it off and ties it then gets up to dispose of it. Without his body warmth, and his warm presence, your entire body erupts into goosebumps, and you quickly yearn for his suffocating heat once again. Luckily, Jaehyun’s absence doesn’t last for long. Ever the gentleman, he comes back with a wet, warm towel that he uses to clean up the mess you’ve made between your legs. When he’s done, he tosses it to the side and scoops you up in his arms, taking you to his room. He sets you down on the bed gently, taking care to avoid putting pressure on your bruised bottom. You’re like a rag doll in his hands as he strips you down and dresses you up in one of his big shirts. He then grabs some cream, and coaxing you to lie on your stomach, he massages it on your reddened bottom, kissing the top of your head softly every time you wince in pain. When he’s done with everything, he engulfs you in his arms and whispers a soft good night in your ear.

And sure it felt great to be treated so tenderly by him, that was one of the reasons you were so ready to submit to him in the first place; Jaehyun always knew how to make it worth your while. He knew how to pamper you so you’d strive to please him in order to get more of it.

On the surface of it, this looked like everything you’ve ever wanted, if only it wasn’t ruined by your knowledge that it was decidedly not. This isn’t a boyfriend caring for his lover after sharing a heated moment of intimacy. This was… well, you didn’t even know what the hell it was, and the huge question mark that hung in the air kept you from deriving any sense of enjoyment out of the situation.

You need to talk about what just happened. You needed to know what this means. Did Jaehyun like you too or was this just a sexual thing? Does he even find you sexually attractive or was he just drunk and pissed off? Is this something that could possibly happen again? Can there be something more?

You had so many questions to ask, but your eyelids were heavy and your mind was heavier, and before you knew it, it shut down on you mid-thought and plunged you into the blissful land of slumber.

“Let’s go get your stuff.”

“What?” You croak, barely having woken up yet, not to mention that some motherfucker was pounding on the inside of your skull like he was trying to break out.

Jaehyun stares at you, his eyes unnerving and entirely too sober. “You’re moving in with me. I need to keep a closer eye on you from now on. I won’t let you continue living this kind of lifestyle.”

Just like that, all sleep flew from your mind.

“What the actual fuck, Jaehyun?” You explode, “At least make a girl some breakfast before you go full chauvinist on her.”

“That’s not funny.” He deadpans, “I’m worried about you.”

“Well, you don’t need to. I’m a big girl. I don’t need you to check for monsters under my bed anymore.” You retort, incredibly annoyed that this was the direction the conversation was taking. This isn’t what you thought you’d be talking about. Dumb, little girl.

“Here we go again.” He rolls his eyes, and your cheeks flame at how condescending the gesture was. “You’re just a child who is playing at being an adult. You don’t realize the mess you’re getting yourself into. I can’t stand by and let you ruin yourself like this. I’ve taken care of you your whole life and I’m not about to stop now, even if you’re going to hate me for it.”

“I’m not your fucking doll, Jaehyun. Don’t I get to have a say in my own life? God, are you even listening to yourself?” You massage your forehead, unable to contend with both the headache and the unreasonable man. It was different when you were drunk and horny and trying to get into his pants, but now his words sounded just as ridiculous to you as they were. “If I had known you’d turn into this sexist, controlling asswipe the moment I did something you didn’t like, I would never have come here.”

He flinches at your words, looking wounded, but you can’t find it in you to feel sorry for him. He brought this on himself.

“I only want what’s best for you, angel.” He takes your hand between his own but you yank it away.

“You think slutshaming and controlling me is what’s best for me? It’s what’s best for you. You can’t handle that I’m not the virginal little girl you used to know and that I’m now a woman with an actual sex drive. You don’t like the ugly truth it’s making you confront about yourself so you want to force me to wear my old skin again so you can go on pretending you’re still the nice guy you always thought you were. You’re such a fucking hypocrite, Jaehyun.”

“You’re right. I am a hypocrite. I criticized you for the same thing I gave myself a pass for, and that’s not fair.”

“Thank you.” You mumble, finding it strange how he gave in so easily, but feeling relieved nonetheless.

“So I should stop too. I won’t fuck around anymore. I’ll clean up my act and go back to being the older brother you deserve.”

“What?” You sputter, dumbfounded. “That’s not what I’m saying. You can fuck whoever you want. I don’t care.”

Your protest was weak and you knew it. You did care, a whole fucking lot. You were accusing him of being a hypocrite, yet here you are, ready to denounce your sexual awakening in exchange for keeping him celibate as well. It just hurt so bad to see him with all those women, and it never, ever got better. So if the price of you never having to see that sight again is sacrificing your own sexual freedom then would that really be so bad? You’ve lived through that before. You’re used to it.

“I know you don’t.” He gives you a strange smile, one you’ve never seen on his face before, and yet it feels so profoundly familiar. When he takes your hand in his again, you let him. “But I care. I care about being someone you respect and look up to, and I won’t achieve that by sleeping around.”

“I would still respect you even if you slept around, oppa. It’s your choice. I don’t want to snuff out your love life.” Your words said one thing, but your body language said another. You were looking at him with big, wet eyes and a woeful face that you knew he could never resist. You were playing the role of the martyr who is willing to sacrifice her own happiness in order to make him happy, because you knew that Jaehyun would never allow that to happen.

“You’re not snuffing out my love life. I can still date.” You couldn’t keep your face from visibly falling at that, and he hurries to clarify, thinking that your problem lied in his double standards again rather than your jealousy over him being with another woman. “And you can too! I’m not against you finding a nice guy and building a long lasting and loving relationship with him. On the contrary, that would make me so happy.”

He gives you a bright smile that you mirror with your own soulless one, but he doesn’t notice your lack of enthusiasm, and continues on. “I know that sleeping around isn’t necessarily a bad thing nor does it make you a bad person, but I just want to make sure that no one is taking advantage of you and that you’re safe and with someone who deserves you. Of course, he’d have to come through me first.” He chuckles, but this time you don’t even bother giving him a reaction.

“Is that alright with you, angel?” His knuckles caress your cheek softly, and you close your eyes, leaning into his touch and resigning yourself to a life of being wrapped around his finger. “Yes, oppa.”

A/N: I’m on hiatus so I don’t have time to pour over this story as I normally would have so excuse the cheese and the cliches. Anyway feedback keeps me alive so I’d love to hear from you guys.

#jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #jaehyun college!au #jaehyun bestfriends!au #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fanfics #nct smut #nct angst #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fanfics

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 5 years

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And Now a Rant Brought to You by Whining Reviewers

I normally try to keep complaints about this sort of thing to myself, as I usually find it kind of petty when authors complain about responses to fanfiction, but I have finally been pushed to far and must rant.

An Analogy and Fanfiction Writing from a Broader Perspective

First, let’s think about a good metaphor for writing fanfiction. A friend once related it to me as being something like working in a fast food restaurant. Your customers want their meal fast, cheap, and exactly what they came for.

If their hamburger doesn’t come with the pickles of Tom/Harry high school romance with miniature death eaters that they were expecting when they walked in the door they will let you and all of their friends know about it.

I’m going to take it a bit further. The fast food analogy implies that I have customers and can expect them. Not necessarily in this fanfiction world of ours. Instead, it’s more like sitting on the side walk and you’ve made yourself a sandwich stand. You’re about as legitimate as the ten-year-old’s lemonade stand across the street, but you’ve got more materials to work with.

The first thing you do, after having checked out other sandwich stands in the area, is start making sandwiches that you want to eat. Maybe they look like other sandwiches that you really enjoyed, maybe they add the secret sauce that all other sandwiches were lacking, who knows but you make them on your own time and eat them at your tiny dilapidated shack.

This goes on for a while until one day, out of the blue, you make a sandwich that people really like. Suddenly people are hanging around your sandwich shop, asking for more of one sandwich or else praising the deliciousness of your sandwiches even in comparison to actual restaurants.

This, eventually, is where the rant will come in.

Some Typical Complaints

Reviewers don’t always like my work and I fully accept that. There can be very legitimate reasons for not liking my particular brand of fanfiction, or anyone’ s for that matter. It might not be your genre, it might be too damn weird, you might not accept some of the assumptions made within the story, or who knows maybe the story is just a pile of garbage.

That said, aside from those legitimate sort of complaints, I do get ones I frequently raise my eyebrows at.

First there’s the, “I clearly haven’t read your story but goddammit this thing that didn’t even happen in your fic pisses me off!” These are the people itching for a fight, they’re usually so hasty and so enraged, that they have frequent misspellings in their reviews and will frequently cite events that honest-to-god did not happen in the story. I’m never quite sure what to do with these other than shrug and wonder how these people are getting on thinking they’ve read stories they very clearly haven’t read at all.

Then there’s the similar but not quite the same, “I’ve got a bone to pick with you, relatively well known internet author, and I’m going to slander your whole work with all the tropes I’ve read from the internet that you’re breaking to look cool”. The last part doesn’t always come in, there’s also just the “I’ve got a bone to pick with you” but these are the people who seem drawn in by the relative popularity of the story and in a review will cite well known tropes or else fandom assumptions that the story is breaking and will write it in such a way as to make the author feel very stupid. A note, if you’re thinking of leaving a review like this, I warn you now that it will make you look like a pretentious asshole and ten times dumber than you are. Chances are the author has already heard this twelve times over and if not, they’ve already certainly considered it. These people are a little more obnoxious than the prior but there’s not much to say to them either. They’re not in it to read the story, after all, but instead to prove a point about themselves. Why they need fan ficition to do this, I don’t know, but I suppose whatever floats people’s boats.

Third there are the ones I do feel quite awful about. These are the ones in which a story starts in one direction for all intents and purposes and then veers entirely into left field leaving readers behind. Sometimes it’s intended, sometimes the story evolves to such a point, but often these loyal readers feel quite betrayed and will note as much in reviews. These ones are hard, and very often quite justified, but the story is what the story is and there is always the option of simply not reading.

The Complaints Where I am Baffled

The complaints I’ve been getting recently, where I’m entirely baffled, are not any of the above or anything I consider reasonable. These, instead, are all along the lines of, “Hey, author, I notice you’re not writing this thing that I specifically want you to write. You write too much of <blank>. That pisses me off and if you don’t change you’re ways I’m gonna leave.”

To get back to the sandwich analogy, this isn’t a vehement rant over the customer’s desire for pickles on a free sandwich they found at a shack, it’s instead a customer who eats a few sandwiches, looks down at it in consternation, looks at the sandwich shack, and says, “Jesus Christ, author, do you have anything besides these fucking sandwiches?”

Me, lowly sandwich maker that I am, can only stare flabbergasted. For one, there is a tin of homemade baklava that nobody wants over there at the side that this customer has conveniently overlooked for the far more popular sandwiches. Second, it is a sandwich shop in which the customer has picked up, not even an ordered, a sandwich free of charge. A sandwich shack in a neighborhood filled with hundreds of sandwich shacks where one undoubtedly sells exactly what the customer is looking for.

However, instead it implies that you, as in you author and no one else, should be fulfilling their specific sandwich order that everyone else already supplies (and no, they didn’t see the baklava, but it looks like garbage anyway so can you make the fucking special sandwich, are you just incapable of doing anything besides the weird ass sandwiches you’ve already been making?) despite the fact that they are not paying you to do so with the laughable threat that they’ll walk out or else think you’re an idiot if you don’t comply.

Bitch, Please

So far we’ve had a lot of ranting but I do actually have a few solutions for you disheartened souls out there who really really really want The Carnivorous Muffin to stop writing “Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus” and start writing “Harry/Draco Mpreg Romance” (no one has actually asked for this, I’m not actually sure what these reviewers want from me, just that it’s not what I’m giving).

Start Looking in Other Places

There's a lot of fanfiction out there, and I mean a lot. Yes, most of it is not high quality, no that is not the author’s problem (you picked a sandwich up from a shack on the side of the road, remember, anybody can sell a sandwich, you don’t have to eat it).

That said, if you’re looking for something chances are that someone, somewhere, has written it.

More, if you’re looking for a specific trope, like WBWL there are undoubtedly fifty different versions floating about with several different archives all tailored for exactly what you’re looking for.

Write it Yourself

The reason I write what I do, in part, is because I knew there was a snowball’s chance in hell it would already be out there. Not, at least, with all of the pickles, lettuce, ketchup on the side, or what have you that my dream sandwich required.

You have something specific in mind? The author not living up to your expectations? Sit down at a computer or even a piece of paper and write what it is you're looking for. I guarantee you, you’ll be much less frustrated and happier for it. Who knows, other people have probably been looking for that too and you’ll go and make their day.

Prompt Existing Authors

Some fanfiction authors take prompts, I am actually among them, if you want something written the way you want it then go and prompt them. They may turn you down, that’s their right, but the fact is that there are people you can go and politely ask for this sort of thing.

Do Not Whine to the Author Like a Smarmy Asshole Because You Couldn’t Read Mayonnaise in the List of Ingredients

Often, also with this sort of review, it becomes clear that they a) don’t read summaries, b) don’t read author’s notes and then are upset that they didn’t read the information contained in the summaries or author’s notes.

Regardless, even if you are fully informed and chose to complain to the author that they’re not writing what you want, stop and think before you push that button.

First, is what you’re asking for in any way unreasonable? Does the author have any motivation at all to comply with your individual needs? Has anyone else brought this up in a review or is it you alone who has an issue? Can you solve this problem by leaving to read something else?

If you answered yes to any of the above then it’s best you don’t leave that review. If you do, trust me, the author will engrave your username in their memory and will always remember you as “ack, it’s that smarmy asshole who can’t read authors notes”

My Ode to Reviewers

That said, the vast majority of you are encouraging, wonderful and when you nitpick or bring up criticism you do so with grace and style. My blessings unto you all.

End Rant

#writing #fan fiction #rant #handling flames #flames

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dcarevu · 5 years

Text

DCAU #20: Prophecy of Doom

“You gave him ten million dollars, sir? And to think I was fretting over the electric bill…”

Hey, guys, so lemme tell you about the craziest thing that just happened to me. There I was, dressed in my cloak at the DCAU brotherhood meeting. And the leader of the brotherhood, Nospoilerz, looked right at me and said, “You! Young man! You are in graAaAve danger! I see disappointment! I see pain! I see misery and woe!” I left the place scoffing to myself, not believing one word of it. But then I turned on Prophecy of Doom and I realized that this guy actually may have known what he was talking about.

Episode: 19 Robin: No Writers: Sean Catherine Derek (teleplay), Dennis Marks (Story) Director: Frank Paur Animator: Akom Airdate: October 6, 1992 Grade: D

Am I being too generous with that D? Because this is definitely my second-least favorite episode so far. It’s another Sean Catherine Derek/AKOM “classic” from season 1, and this just goes to show that sometimes reading the episode credits is all you need to do… Sigh… Bruce Timm himself has made certain remarks about both of these creative forces, citing AKOM as a subpar studio, and Sean Catherine Derek as a writer that would always try to throw in a big message, but could never really make it work in practice. We saw this in The Forgotten with the subject of homelessness, and we see it here again with the fortune teller who is actually just scamming people out of all their money. Yeah, she didn’t write the story of this one, only the script and such, but her fingerprints are all over the place when you break out the powder. Unless you’re a really good writer, a half-hour Batman show is just not a good way to get some of your important, socially-conscious messages across to the public. Who exactly wants to see that? Eric Radomski and Bruce Timm were going for a grim, crime-noir. Sean was pushing for a recycling bin and a god damn dog to be in the show, guys. I think recycling is as important as the next guy. And boy do I love a cute pupper. But this says a lot. Boy. Don’t you just wish that we got a whole episode about why we should should recycle? Just imagine how that woulda turned out.

We would see some of the “big, real world statements” taken on much later with Static Shock, and from what I understand, it often worked quite well. But this was after a lot of DCAU establishment. It also was a very different show than Batman TAS. Not to mention, well, Sean Catherine Derek wasn’t involved with Static Shock at all. I wish her no ill will, and I hope she’s happy writing for whoever she writes for nowadays, but the sooner these episodes we’re looking at leave her behind, the better. Reportedly, she clashed a lot with Bruce and Eric when it came to their visions for Batman the Animated Series, so overall I would say that she just was not meant to be part of this team, or wasn’t flexible enough to write stories that would suit this show.

I didn’t think he was legit until he showed me his kickass flyers!

Nostromos is the one-off villain of this episode, and I’m certainly not gonna be anxiously awaiting his return for a future episode. He’s a guy who supposedly has magic powers and the ability to read fortunes, but as we can tell from spending less than five minutes with him, he’s a big fraud. In this episode, it makes for some confusion as far as how we’re supposed to see and react to him. Mysterio from Marvel did this concept wayyy better because Mysterio was more frightening than this guy. At least back when I was a kid he was (yeah, I get it, he’s got a big bowl on his head)! With Nostromos, we, the audience, along with Bruce Wayne, are skeptical of him from the beginning, and the way he carries himself makes it really hard to feel threatened by him at all.

Top 10 DCAU guyliner material

“The vibrations are right for prophecy.” This guy offers a translation to a completely lost Bruce Wayne

“You are merely the eye trying to view itself!” explains Nostromos. Now this guy looks just as confused as Bruce is.

Even after we come to the conclusion that he likely was responsible for the sinking of the gambling cruise ship. He’s just so silly and his plan is so uninteresting. And then we see that the other people involved in Nostromos’ brotherhood (a big group of rich/important people) are eating up every word that he spews out, and we get music cues and other moments that almost seem to try and make us take him seriously. It makes the people in this episode seem like absolute dimwitted fools, and how all of them managed to finesse their way to the top of the money tree with that kind of gullibility is beyond me. The tone is really mixed. And it continues to stay mixed throughout the entire episode. It’s just weird to see Batman, the strong creature of the night who always saves the day (not literally, saving the day at night sounds bonkers), be in any sort of danger, but then see everyone else being idiots and that the villain is just a big joke.

“You!!!” This was a pretty poor-looking shot, especially when you see it in movement.

Bruce’s glass mysteriously shatters.

And what is Nostromos’ plan? Well, his main one is to basically convince the brotherhood that an economic crisis is right around the corner in order to get them to give him all of their money. Is that not the least creative place you could go with a crazy cult in a Batman episode? The least they could have done was made it so that Nostromos wants to kill Bruce for a specific, personal reason or something. Things do get a little bit crazier eventually, but in a way that’s almost as dull as everything else. Nostromos ties Ethan Clark’s (a friend of Bruce in this episode) daughter to this giant solar system display, where she is in danger of being crushed if another planet happens to collide with her.

Seems to me like he could have made things a little simpler if he had just threatened to shoot her.

This sequence just doesn’t visually suck me in, nor did it with Char. She thought it could have looked a lot better, especially when it’s such a preposterous idea. The episode needs to do something for me to fall under the spell of the suspension of disbelief. It has been said that Akom just didn’t have the chops to animate this the way it was asked for. And trust me, I believe that. It hasn’t taken me long to understand the impact of Akom on Batman the Animated Series. But in my mind…even with proper transition from the storyboards to full motion, is this really a scene that I would have been asking for? Did I really want a conclusion where Batman jumps around on moving papier-mâché planets gone awry?

This is pretty much the best we got, folks

So yes, I do in fact agree with Char, this scene could have looked a lot better. But I also have to ask the writers whether or not this was even a good idea in the first place. And Nostromos causes the planets to spin all over the place, past their normal speeds, by beating on the control panel and breaking it. Why does whamming on a piece of technology not usually just shut off the technology? It always sends it off on a deadly rampage. By the end, Batman escapes, saving Clark’s daughter. And Nostromos gets caught by a stray planet from the spinning display as it lands on top of him.

Nostromos and his crazy plot are much like how Red Claw ended up being a few episodes back. Has potential, then does nothing worth remembering with it. Y’know, this episode also feels like a 70’s Scooby Doo episode. The villain seems like a Scooby Doo villain, has a Scooby Doo villain-esque plan, and even gets caught like one of Fred’s traps. And y’know how usually Fred’s traps are completely over the top, but ultimately the animation and everything keeps it pretty underwhelming? That was the whole climax to this one. It’s like Batman was Scooby Doo, wrecking the bad guy’s plan and managing to trap them. I really wish everyone on the Batman TAS team had known better by this point when it comes to what type of show they should have been writing. Clearly some of them were in on it, but not some of those stubborn ones. I get that it’s still season one, but this episodes wastes time. Instead, we could have gotten something much better in its pace. But these writers were here taking up staff slots, not trying their hardest to produce a really good Batman show. They were too focused on only pushing hard enough to create a typical Saturday morning cartoon show, or a show that displayed a moral, and it’s like, another show could be used for things like that. I think when Paul Dini or Alan Burnett wrote their episodes, they made it so damn evident that they were pouring their hearts into the scripts, and were actually trying to make something good, something they they would have wanted to see. They were giving the best to Batman that they could. This show was airing before I was born. And even if it were brand new, it wouldn’t make any sense to hold a grudge or anything on some of these earlier writers. The ones who didn’t utilize the potential of a Batman show like this. Because what these writers did was make the good episodes seem even better. Not every episode may have been ground-breaking in this series. But even with those which weren’t quite up to snuff, with those which didn’t elevate the animation landscape, we still got so many episodes that did, and they are why the cartoon is remembered as being so important, so influential, and so gosh-darned entertaining. Them, and Batman going, “Psyyyyychic energiiiees, Alfred”. I could listen to that on repeat.

One of our establishing shots of the episode, use for a prelude which ultimately doesn’t end up being all that significant for the story. But at least the jazz was nice!

I don’t believe that we ever actually get any confirmation as to whether or not Nostromos planted this. I’m surprised an episode like this didn’t take the extra step to spell it out for us.

Uh oh, don’t let the fish drown!

Ethan and Lisa Clark. Wonder if they��ll appear past this episode.

Total Scooby Doo villain vibes.

Here are the mugshots

These keyboard sound effects, though. Let’s get some official Batman TAS ASMR.

Batman flees the falling elevator, not falling victim to Nostromos’ plot

This was a pretty shitty fight scene.

Were you even trying to avoid that swing, Batman? He even gave you some time to react before he swung!

This was a decent shot.

Kevin Conroy’s acting was a lot of fun here. He put a tremble into Bruce’s voice that we all know is Bruce faking, but that’s only because we know better!

The most disturbing moment of Batman TAS so far. This damn smile. Especially with the way his eyes move. And you’re telling me that Bruce couldn’t hold in this smile? It’s not like he saw the camera and knew we were watching. They shoulda had him wink right at us while they were at it.

Maybe the bit that saved this episode from an F

Or maybe it was specifically this ass shot. And you say you watch Batman for the plot.

This is the shot our climax ends on. Just take it in.

This one was harder to write for some reason. Could have something to do with the fact that I’m staying in some friends’ living room and sleeping on their couch with another person over spring break. Not to mention, I have to do a lot of this typing on the floor. But I hope it gave something worth reading regardless! Here’s to a smoother review for next time. They can’t all be winners. Much like the episodes themselves.

Char’s grade: C

Next time: Feat of Clay (Part 1) Full episode list here!

#batman tas #dcau #dc animated universe #batman the animated series #prophecy of doom #batman

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tellmewhatisreal · 6 years

Text

Intertwined

Characters: Eleven/Jane Hopper, Jim Hopper

Summary: Moments between Jim and Jane.

Her entry into society hadn't exactly been smooth sailing.

She had been excited to go to school, to say the least. The date had been marked on the calendar hanging on the wall, and she would constantly check how many days there were left until she could begin her life as a normal teenager. Then The Day had finally arrived, and trembling with barely contained excitement, she had hopped out of the truck and hurried to her friends waiting for her at the school entrance. But in the afternoon, when he had pulled up in front of the school to pick her up, she had sat there on the curb looking downright defeated. When he had called out her name (which was Jane, by her choice, although the kids still persistently called her El), she had walked over to the truck, shoulders slumped, dragging her feet. The whole drive home she had stared out of the window and his questions had been met with shrugs and one-word answers. It hadn't been until that evening that she had spoken. "Everything was hard," she had said, poking at the mashed potatoes on her plate with her fork.

The things she had then described hadn't come as a surprise to him. The weird looks from other kids. Teachers with little patience for her limited understanding of vocabulary. The exhaustion from having to process unfamiliar words all day and trying and failing to form sentences that made sense to others. She was certainly enthusiastic about learning, probably more so than any other student in the school, but the day had been too overwhelming. And it had apparently ended with her hiding in a bathroom stall, trying to keep her anxiety in check.

So the first day had been hard, and so had the weeks after that. He had been aware that the kid needed to see and experience a lot more human interaction in order to get better at it. So he had started taking her out a lot more, trying to ignore the fear twisting his guts every time she was out in public. They would simply walk around the town, go out to eat or sometimes go to the movies. On Saturdays they would get groceries for the following week.

This Saturday was no different. She was pushing the shopping cart and scanning the shelves, searching for a cereal brand that she hadn't tried yet. He was in the vegetable aisle, cursing the lack of carrots, the only vegetable she would eat without coaxing. She returned to him with two boxes of cereal in the cart. "Can I have two?"

"I'm not made of money, you know."

She looked puzzled. "I know."

"I mean... Never mind. Just, maybe try to pick one? The next paycheck is coming next week, we're gonna have to skimp until then." The truth was, he was saving up so that they could afford to move to a real house with room for them both. But he didn't want to tell her until he was sure he could actually make it happen.

"Fine." She was about the take the other box back when someone called out Jim's name. They both turned around and saw a red-haired woman approach them.

"Jim Hopper! I recognized you immediately."

He had no idea who the woman was.

"You don't remember me, do you?" She seemed a little surprised, yet amused.

"Uh... Remind me?"

She smirked. "Senior year, we used to drive up to the hill in your car and... enjoy the scenery."

Then he definitely remembered. Flustered, he cleared his throat. "Susan! Yes, of course I remember. What are you doing here? In Hawkins, I mean."

"It's my mother's birthday and she's having this huge extravaganza. I think half the town is invited," she laughed.

Jane was still standing there, holding the box of cereal and silently observing them.

Susan kept glancing between Jane and him, obviously waiting for him to introduce her.

"And who's this pretty lady?" she finally asked.

"Oh, this is Jane. She is my daughter." He uttered the last words slowly and uncertainly, as he always did whenever someone asked about her. He still hadn't gotten used to the phrase.

The woman frowned. "Really? I had no idea you had a kid. Even my mom has never mentioned it, and she knows everything that goes on in this town."

Relying on the evasion tactic he had successfully used with nosy people for the last few weeks, he only shrugged as a response.

She turned to Jane and extended her hand. "Well, it's very nice to meet you, Jane." The girl stared at the extended hand with a confused look and glanced at Jim. He mimed a handshake and she finally shook the hand limply.

"She's a bit shy," he lied.

"Wow, she really hasn't taken after you, then," she laughed.

He could sense the conversation heading to a very awkward direction and he needed to end it. "Well, it was great seeing you. We're in a bit of a hurry, so we need to continue our shopping."

The abrupt ending to the conversation earned him an odd look from the woman. "Right, of course. Actually I'm in a bit of a hurry too, I just need to grab baking soda for my mom." She seemed to contemplate for a while. "But hey, I'm going to be in town for a few days, so if you want to grab a drink or something..."

There was no way he was going to spend an evening being interrogated about his life, so he tried to come up with a believable excuse. "Oh. Well, you know, I'm going to be a bit busy with work and... Jane. You know, father-daughter stuff."

She obviously saw right through his bullshit explanation, but thankfully let it go. "Right, of course. Anyway, it was fun to see you again. And it was nice meeting you, Jane." She gave them both one last (and very confused) look before heading to the other side of the store.

"Why are we in a hurry?" Jane asked him as she watched her walk away.

"We're not," he said with a lowered voice.

"You lied then."

He groaned. "It was just a teeny tiny white lie, don't get too hung up on it. What's next on our shopping list?"

She kept looking at him with a slightly judgmental look. It was annoying as hell. "Let this one go, and I'll let you have two boxes of cereal. Deal?"

She contemplated a while. "Yes." He then shook her hand to seal the deal (and also for practice).

She tossed the box into the cart and started to spell out the next item on their shopping list.

He realized that in the span of five minutes he had lied, used bribery and overall spectacularly failed at acting like a normal human being. As usual, he started to wallow, thinking he was a horrible influence on his kid if he couldn't even get through a simple conversation with dignity.

While he followed her around amidst his angst spiral, Jane collected everything they needed (minus the carrots) and they went to the register. As usual, Jim handed Jane a bunch of bills so that she could handle the transaction and went to pack the groceries. While the cashier waited for Jane to count the bills, she asked what the duo had planned for the weekend.

Jane handed her the cash after triple-checking she had counted the money correctly. "You know, father-daughter stuff," she parroted his earlier words. "It's going to be a busy weekend, apparently." She threw him a mocking look.

Even though he was being made fun of, he couldn't help but chuckle at her surprisingly subtle jab. His kid was starting to get the hang of it after all.

Jim wondered what his life had become. He had led a simple life before: going to work, getting off work, having a drink or ten, maybe having a lady friend over. Then he would wake up in the morning and do the same thing all over again. It had been a safe and familiar loop. But now he was in uncharted territory: standing in the front of a classroom, trying to inspire kids to "find a suitable career path". That was what Ms. Hoffman, one of Jane's teachers, had said when she had ambushed him in the hallway of the school and begged him to take part in career day. If he had been asked three years ago, he would have never agreed, but now all it had taken had been the magic words "Jane would be so thrilled to have you there". Ms. Hoffman was surprisingly good at manipulation.

So he was there as promised, cursing himself for agreeing to this, and Jane was sitting in the back row, looking amused and maybe a little weirded out by the fact that he was in her classroom. The teacher introduced him to the class and gestured him to take over.

He took a few steps forward, feeling like a giant in the small classroom. He placed his hat on the teacher's desk and started talking, describing his duties as a police chief and what a typical work day was like. He kept it short because he desperately wanted to get the hell out of there. Of course the sadistic Ms. Hoffman wouldn't let him.

"Thank you, chief Hopper! What a fascinating, and most of all important job. Now, I'm sure the kids have a lot of questions to ask you," she said from the side of the room.

"Uh, yeah sure, go ahead," he glanced at the students, who mostly looked bored.

A boy in the front row piped up immediately. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

Some of the other boys snickered, and he noticed Jane roll her eyes in the back row. The teacher threw Jim an apologizing look. He then had a hunch.

He headed slowly toward the boy's desk. "What's your name, kid?"

"Brian."

Bingo. This was the Brian who apparently kept sending idiotic notes to Jane during class. They weren't even clever, just mocking remarks about her clothing or curly hair. When he had found the pieces of paper between her biology textbook, he had forced her to tell him the asshole's name, but she had pleaded him not to contact the school. "I don't care about them," she had said. But he knew she did care, and now he could do something about it.

He stopped in front of the boy's desk and looked contemplatively out of the window, ignoring his question. "You know, I've been doing this job for a long time. And I like to think that I've become pretty good at reading people. Something I've noticed over the years is that it's pretty easy to predict how people will turn out."

He leaned on the kid's desk with both hands. "Some people start veering off course early on. They think that what they're doing is just innocent fun, like maybe teasing others at school, enjoying the power trip. But usually, that's exactly how it starts. That leads to whole another level of stupidity, and before they know it, they're being charged with car theft or drunk driving or worse by the time they're 20."

He leaned down, towering over the boy (who was trying to act like he wasn't intimidated, but he could see that was exactly what he was). "That's why whenever I spot kids doing something stupid, I intervene. It's not too late for them, they can still change course. And a very good way to change that course is to, I don't know, stop going out of your way to terrorize the people around you. These people include, but are not limited to, the police chief's daughter." He gave the kid his most frightening stare. "Surely you understand what I'm saying?"

For a second the boy defiantly held his head up high, but then nodded and averted his gaze, blush creeping up his neck.

"Wonderful," he said with an overly chipper tone and straightened himself. "Any other questions?"

"Actually, I think we're out of time," the now very nervous-looking Ms. Hoffman hurried to say, trying to get things under control again. "But thank you so much for taking the time to visit us, this has been very enlightening."

"It was my pleasure," he stated sweetly and picked up his hat. One glance at the back of the classroom confirmed that his daughter was blushing furiously, but she didn't seem embarrassed, only amused. He placed the hat on his head and headed to the door. "I'll be home at five-one-five, Jane," he called out without looking back and strode out into the hallway.

Jane didn't like guns. It was perfectly understandable, considering that she'd had quite a few guns pointed at her in her lifetime. Whenever his gun was somewhere in the house, she would avoid being in its vicinity. It most likely stirred some unpleasant memories in her.

He wondered if it was the worst idea in the history of mankind, but he figured that if he showed her how guns worked, maybe she wouldn't feel so uncomfortable with one in the house. On the other hand, he was about to teach a traumatized teenager not totally in control of her psychic powers how to use a firearm. Someone might have said he was insane. But he knew that despite her explosive tendencies she was also extremely detail-oriented. If he explained something to her thoroughly, she would be smart about it.

"You want me to use the gun?" she asked incredulously when he broached the subject.

He gave her a pointed look. "Certainly not. I'm just going to show you how to handle it safely and load it and stuff. You know, the mechanics of it. Sit, watch and learn", he tapped the seat next to him.

She sat down hesitantly at their brand new kitchen table next to him. "Okay. First of all, if you handle a gun, always make sure that the safety is on. See this here? When it's on, you can't accidentally shoot anyone."

"What if I need to shoot someone?"

"You won't need to. Ever."

"You can't know."

He sighed. "Well, if push comes to shove, you're perfectly able to take someone down with your God-given abilities. So leave the shooting to me."

He could sense the gears turning in her head. "'If push comes to shove', it means that a situation gets so bad that it calls for desperate measures."

Her expression became even more perplexed. "Measures?"

He ran a hand over his face. "It has a different meaning... You know what, let's not get into that right now, we need to concentrate on this. Okay, here's what you would do if you had to use this." He then showed her how to place the bullets in and how to load the gun.

"How often do you have to use it?" she asked, closely watching his movements.

"Pretty much never, not much happens around here that requires shooting. Except, you know..." He trailed off but she picked up on his meaning and nodded in understanding.

"Can I try shoot with it?" she asked after a moment of silence.

He raised his eyebrow at the unexpected question.

"Not living things," she hurried to add. "Just... I want see how it feels."

He contemplated for a while. "Sorry, kid. This is my service pistol. You know, for work only. We can't use it for fun."

She nodded again and fiddled with a loose bullet.

"But I do have a rifle in the garage. You interested in that?"

Before they knew it, they were standing at the edge of the nearby field, Jane placing empty beer cans on a weathered fence. They took their position at a proper distance from it.

"Okay, you ready?"

"Yes." She held out her arms, looking concentrated and serious.

"Stand straight, feet a bit further apart," he poked at her feet with his own foot and then placed the rifle in her arms. "It will kick back, hard, so be ready for that. Take a deep breath before you pull the trigger. Absolutely no sudden movements." He placed earmuffs on her head and took a step back.

She breathed in and out in an exaggerated manner. Her finger closed around the trigger and her head started to turn away in anticipation of the shot.

"No no no, eyes open and forward," he gestured towards the fence. "You need to see your target."

She gave him a slightly impatient look, but did as she was told. She took that deep breath again and kept her eyes fixated on the fence.

The shot rang loudly through the air, making flocks of birds sprint from the tree line. Jane looked a bit startled by the force of the shot, but after a second she burst into laughter. Clearly exhilarated and pumped with adrenaline, she couldn't stop laughing, and it made him laugh too. She hadn't hit any of the cans, not by a long shot, but they couldn't care less. At that moment she was emanating pure joy and it was perfect.

"That settles it, we are so enrolling you into the police academy the minute you turn 21." He ruffled her hair, a bit out of breath from the laughing.

Jim was at his desk smoking a cigarette and talking on the phone with a very distraught George Henderson, who was reporting that his lawn ornaments had gone missing during the night. Again. "This is the third time this has happened, George. Maybe you should consider not having lawn ornaments?" he asked tiredly. As the man started to rant about never giving in to the shitheads who vandalized him, Flo appeared in the doorway. "Hop, your daughter is here."

He glanced at the clock on the wall and groaned. "She's supposed to be at school," he said, holding his hand over the receiver.

"Well, she's not. She wants to see you, over here," Flo told him and gestured him to follow her. He ended the call abruptly, promising the man that someone would come over to deal with his crisis.

He was already preparing the lecture he was about to give her in his head, until he entered the room and saw her sitting in one of the guest chairs by the entrance, cradling her winter hat in her hands. When he got closer, he spotted some movement in the hat.

"Uh, Jane? What have you got there?" he asked carefully, suddenly worried that he would have to deal with yet another monstrous creature from the upside down. He sat down on the chair next to hers. She shifted the hat so that he could take a look. Thankfully, it wasn't an otherworldly creature. It was a tiny bird. Its wing was broken and one of its legs was twisted in an odd position. She looked up at him with the most hopeful expression he'd ever seen on anyone. "Can you fix her?"

Suddenly he could feel everyone's eyes on him. The officers and Flo were all curiously watching this scene unfold from their desks. It made him anxious. "Powell, Callahan, George Henderson called again. You know the drill."

The men begrudgingly made their way out and Jim looked at the bird one more time. It twitched slightly when he gently poked at it, but it wasn't actually moving. It wasn't even chirping. It was obviously as good as dead but she still thought he could somehow bring it back to life. He would've been touched if it hadn't been so damn tragic.

"Where did you find it?" he asked gently.

"In the school yard. I don't know why she's hurt." She stroked the bird's feathers lightly. "What do we do?"

There was that look again. He sighed. "Look, Jane, I don't think we can make it better. It's too badly hurt."

The tears fell immediately. She was sobbing and heartbroken and he had no idea what to do. He placed a comforting hand on her back. "If there was any way I could help it, I would." She sniffed and wiped at her eyes and nose (with the hands she had handled the bird with, he realized, but now was probably not the time to send her to wash her hands). At a loss at what to do, he glanced over at Flo, but she was, too, wiping tears from her face. Truth be told, he was pretty close to shedding a few tears himself. He ended up hugging her and whispering (hopefully) soothing words to her until the sobbing stopped. Figuring that she was too upset to return to school, he decided to take her straight home.

Later that night, the bird having been put out of its misery and Jane being asleep in her room, he lied on the couch with a beer in his hand, thinking about what had happened. He didn't know why she'd had such a strong reaction to the bird and it bothered him. He suspected it had something to do with the lab. He had certainly noticed something was off before: whenever she saw a stray cat crossing their yard or a dog being walked on the street, she got that sad, faraway look in her eyes. He hadn't asked her about it, mostly because he was afraid of opening a floodgate that couldn't be closed. Annoyed with himself for handling things so badly, he finished his beer with one gulp and got up from the couch, his back cracking in the process. On the way to his room, he peaked in Jane's to make sure she was really asleep (she would sometimes pretend to go to sleep but in reality read a book under the covers with a flashlight). He lingered in her doorway for a while, the alcohol running in his veins making him emotional. He had probably handled some things badly, he thought. But she had trusted him enough to come to him when she had been upset, so he must have done something right, too. That thought made him smile.

The flying glass missed his head only by a few inches when it hit the wall and shattered to pieces. "Hey, what did we talk about?" he barked angrily, pointing at their revised list of 'don't be stupid' rules pinned to the living room wall.

He really didn't need this today. She had that infuriatingly stubborn look on her face and he knew this fight was going to be a hellish one. He had only informed her that she couldn't go out with the others since she would have to study for her math test, and things had inexplicably escalated from there.

She didn't answer his question. He marched to the list to emphasize his point.

"'I won't use my powers to lash out'," he read out loud. "This looks awfully like your own handwriting. I distinctly remember us both agreeing to these rules. So where is this stupidity coming from?"

She was absolutely seething. "I am not stupid!" she spat out.

"Oh yeah? Because I'm thinking that a smart person would know better than to use their scary-ass powers to hurt other people out of spite. That's what normal people do, they control their emotions. We've been having this conversation over and over again for, what, two years now, and you still can't grasp this? Seriously?"

In the back of his mind he knew he had delivered her a low blow. But he couldn't concentrate on that right now because he needed to win this stare-off they were currently engaged in. Seeing the rage flash in her eyes he fully expected her to hurl the TV at him or something, and quite frankly, he probably deserved it at this point. Instead, she stormed out of the house, slamming the door shut behind her with a flick of her wrist.

"Shit." He walked over to the window and watched her ride off with her bike. Slowly his words started to sink in. He was painfully aware of the other kids laughing behind her back and calling her a weirdo or a freak at school, making her feel like she didn't belong. He'd thought that things had gotten better since the beginning, since she hadn't really mentioned anything to him for a while, but the Wheeler kid had told him the truth. Frustrated, he had briefly even entertained the idea of letting her break rule number three on their list ('I will never ever use my powers at school') so that she could make sure no one ever bothered her again. It made him sick that she had to listen to that shit, and yet, here he was, berating her for not being normal.

He considered going after her but decided against it. He wouldn't get through to her when she was like this. So he decided to wait the storm out, trying to ignore the all-too familiar thought nagging in the back of his mind: what if she doesn't come back.

She, of course, did come back. It was 9.58 p.m., and as he was pacing in the kitchen and considering sending his officers out to look for her, he heard the door open. She stepped in, briefly glanced at him and with her head bowed down closed the door gingerly (and manually this time). She was clearly expecting to be yelled at. Feeling nothing but relief, he closed the distance between them and hugged her tightly.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled quietly into his shirt and hugged him back.

"I'm sorrier. I was a moron."

She gave a small laugh and looked up at him. "I think we both were a bit stupid. Again."

"I'll say," he chuckled and let go of her to look her straight in the eye. "Hey, uh... I know I said some hurtful things. I need you to know I didn't mean any of it. It can't be easy, trying to learn to control something so... uncontrollable."

"I don't do it on purpose. When I get mad, it's like I can't think very well."

He chuckled. "Hey, I can totally relate. Speaking of which," he guided her by the shoulders to the list on the wall, "I added something in my column." There, under the much-protested 'I won't smoke inside the house', he had written 'I will handle fights like an adult'. She smiled and gave him a side hug.

He threw his arm around her shoulder. "Where did you go, by the way?"

"To the diner."

"You were at the diner for three hours?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Do I dare ask what you ate?"

"Waffles and two milkshakes. And coffee."

He groaned. "Great. That won't mess with your sleep at all." He then remembered what had caused the fight to begin with. "On the other hand, now you'll have all night to study for your test."

The next day they agreed to add another rule in her column: 'No coffee after 5 p.m.'

"I'm bored."

He cracked one eye open and found her sitting on the edge of his bed. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, closed his eyes and flung his arm over his eyes. "Why on earth are you up at 6.50 on a Saturday morning?"

She shrugged. "I'm not tired."

"Congratulations. I, on the other hand, am very tired."

"There's nothing to do around here." She was whispering now, as if that would bother him less.

"Homework?"

"I did it yesterday," she said exasperatedly and flopped down on her stomach on the edge of the bed.

"Of course you did." She must have been the only teenager in Hawkins who voluntarily did her homework on a Friday night. "Well... How about mowing the lawn? That would be super useful."

He was joking, but judging by her silence she seemed to actually contemplate it. "I don't know how to use the machine," she said after a while.

He peeked at her from under his arm. "The lawn mower?" She nodded. "It's not hard. I can show you."

She looked way too excited about a lawn mower. He seriously needed to find her some hobbies. "But not now. I think our neighbors wouldn't be so thrilled about our Saturday-morning lawn-mowing."

"Their houses are far away. They won't care."

He groaned and opened his eyes, obviously not getting any sleep anymore. "Fine. But breakfast first, then manual labor."

"I already made coffee!" She sprinted out of the bed victoriously and disappeared into the kitchen.

His mind wandered, again, a few years back to when he had been free to sleep until noon without anyone needing anything from him. But thinking about it now, he didn't miss it one bit. He quite enjoyed his life just the way it was.

#stranger things fanfiction #eleven stranger things #jane hopper #jim hopper #dad hopper #protective parent jim hopper

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dearyallfrommatt · 4 years

Link

So this young lady posted this on Twitter. If you need some help, it’s a fake $20 festooned with the Blind Idiot God’s picture and championing his re-election campaign for the 2020 election. Some rat bastard left this in lieu of a tip.

In her mentions, someone Venmo’ed her a $20 tip, which is nice and an example of people being decent in a world of buttholes. But this is just so typical of people in Trump’s cult and their behavior. This is especially true for people in the service industry, for whom conservatives hold in contempt already.

Honestly, of all the weird bullshit Trump cultists have done - including sending pipe bombs to media people, shooting up synagogues or massacring people trying to buy their weeklies at Wal-Mart - this might just be the most petty and small. “Being a butthole to minimum wage workers (at best) to own the libs” really isn’t a way to drum up votes.

If, that is, that’s what they want to do. Like I wrote about earlier concerning the Evangelicals, a lot of the humanoids ride with Trump because they’ve been waiting for a complete douchebag to strong arm the country and “prove” that might equals right. Even when it’s all smoke and mirrors, that’s what they want.

“Trump is a billionaire,” the say. Well, no, maybe he isn’t. We don’t know he’s actually a billionaire because he’s fighting like hell to keep his tax records from the public eye. In any event, he was born into money. His father, Fredrick “Fred” Christ Trump, took his father’s fortune, largely built on running a brothel, and turned it into a real estate empire. By the time Young Donald was 8, says The New York Times, he was already a millionaire largely based on a trust fund set up by dear old dad.

As an aside, it isn’t creepy as hell that a brothel owner named his son who later became known as a two-bit crooked racist landlord had the middle name “Christ”?

Anyhow, Young Donald claims he only borrowed a million from Pops to get the ball rolling, but investigations into it put the number at more like 60 million, which he largely failed to pay back before Fred kicked the bucket. So, Trump made his fortune in real estate... which his dad pretty much set up by the time the little shit was old enough to stiff his first contractor. It’s not like, say, Howard Schultz (the guy who started Starbucks) or even Bill Gates (who was able to turn his family connections and wealth to turn it around to form Microsoft); he did not do anything but be born.

I’ve read elsewhere that if Trump had never gotten into real estate and spent his life (and trust fund) learning guitar or weaving baskets and just rolled in the investments and what all, he’d be richer now than before his “business genius”. Anyhow, by the time the ‘70s was over, Trump had filed for bankruptcy at least once and perhaps twice. Lest we forget, filing for bankruptcy basically means you don’t have enough money to pay your debtors, so you can put it off, sometimes indefinitely.

I know this is Tumblr and all y’all are teenagers with blue hair, but when I was a young lad, Trump “wrote” a book called The Art Of The Deal. Before you knew it, this asshole was all over the place, on television and movies. In fact, it wasn’t until he screwed around on his first wife Ivana with the lady who’d become his second, Marla Maples, and blew all his good will, he was considered an icon of the American Dream.

Since then, it’s all been downhill. He went bankrupt four or five more times, put his name on everything from shrink-wrapped steaks and bottled water which all flopped, burned bridges in real estate and business for being known as someone who doesn’t pay his bills or employees, and got embroiled in feuds with Rosie O’Donnell and Spy Magazine. In fact, he spent 10 years arguing with the guy from Spy who initially made fun of his tiny hands.

Now, the reason he did all this was, after going bankrupt the first or second time, someone hipped him to the magic of public relations. Trump ceased being a real estate tycoon and became a brand, just something to put the name of “Trump” on it to make it seem classy.

And that’s how things were until Barrack Obama’s second term. Trump tried to get the Reform Party’s nomination for the 2000 election and got laughed out of the room. But when Twitter became a Thing, it was like Chuck Berry discovering guitar. He had found his medium and started building his cult.

During the 2008 election, some right-wing blog (remember those?) started spreading the rumor that Obama wasn’t actually born in the United States. As a part of what’s called “opposition research”, the Hilary Clinton campaign did some research into this claim and found it incredibly lacking. Of course, the wingnuts have taken this as gospel and still do to this day, despite Obama showing proof he’s a citizen and how silly the idea is that the entire GOP, U.S. bureaucracy, his opponents in the Democratic party, and media creature is in on the scam.

Now I don’t know if it would have stayed a wingnut fringe theory - the “Birthers” - had Trump not made it part of his Twitter persona, but here we are. He even claimed to have hired a private investigator who gathered irrefutable proof that Obama was born elsewhere. However, he never put up, just adding to the perception that he’s a proliferate liar.

At a White House Press Dinner, Obama poked fun at Trump for pulling this shit and if you go back to look at the footage, Trump looks like someone shit in his punch. He was pissed because he cannot handle someone mocking him. So, when 2016 rolled around, he decided to run for the Republican nomination for president.

If y’all remember, there was like 17 incredibly unlikable politicians running for the Republican nod. Seriously, Ted Cruz and Scott Walker, that’s who was running. Over on the Democratic side, Hilary Clinton edged out Bernie Sanders for the nod. We’re not going to argue anything about that, we’re just going to roll with reality.

So, it wound up Trump and Hillary, and we know how that all worked out. Again, we’re not going to argue the particulars on this. Trump won, by hook or by crook, he became the president. Now. What people want to say is that he and his actions and policies are the reason the rise in white nationalism, anti-immigrant sentiment, antisemitism, and general buttholery we’re seeing among the Right. Even Joe Biden thinks things will “get back to normal” with Trump gone.

He’s not the cause. He’s a symptom. The reason he was elected is because his campaign resonated with the absolute dregs of our culture. People who were pissed about people of color and women taking their due place in society. People who’re furious about LGBT just existing. People who cannot imagine an American not run by rich white guys.

And they are assholes, believe you me. They get off on pulling shit like the above nonsense - remember that; it takes a while but I get back to the topic at hand eventually - being mean to people who aren’t in the position to fight back. That’s how they see things as the “way it should be”. That’s what America is to them.

And that’s why they love Trump. They’ve been thirsting for a guy like this at least since Reagan. Bush Junior was supposed to be this guy, but I truly think his reportedly sincere Christian faith prevented it. For the movers and shakers, Trump is a useful tool. For the great unwashed, Trump is the strong-arm asshole of a leader they’ve been waiting on since Rush Limbaugh first told them how it was all the fault of liberals giving your hard-earned guns to the black lesbian intellectuals.

So. I’m tired of writing, but I think this pretty much makes the nut. What can we do? Vote. Vote in this upcoming election, vote in 2020 and keep voting. Not voting basically means you’re fine with the rich bastards running things. You’re not sending them a message that they suck; you’re sending them a message that you’re sheep. Stay informed, bug the hell out of your elected representatives and get as involved as you can on a local level.

Okay, I’m done except for one thing. Remember: nothing in the above is “fake news” even if it would hurt Trump’s feelings. Look it up on your own and deal with reality not being as cut-and-dried as we’d like. If you’re so inclined to try to argue me down for whatever reason, feel free to suck my farts, cry more and die mad, fanboy.

#the blind idiot god #the cult of 45 #people being assholes #2020 election

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lindabodecom · 5 years

Text

Ghostwriting 101: How to Get Paid Big Bucks As a Ghostwriter

You want to make money as a writer, right?

You’ve told everyone on Facebook (including your weird aunt) that you’re available to write. You’ve been writing guest post after guest post to showcase your talent and get your name out there. Maybe you’ve even landed a few jobs already. (Good for you!)

But then a potential client emails you with the question, “Do you offer ghostwriting services?”

And you’re stumped.

Maybe you’ve heard of ghostwriting. Maybe you have some idea what a ghostwriter is. Or maybe you wonder if it involves ouija boards in some way.

You don’t want to look like an idiot by emailing back to say, “Err… what do you mean?”

That sounds like a good way to send your potential client running for the hills.

But don’t worry — I’m about to tell you everything you need to know about ghostwriting, starting with…

Table of Contents

What IS Ghostwriting?

But Why Would You Let Someone Else Take Credit for YOUR Writing?

The Counterpoint: Why You Might NOT Want to Be a Ghostwriter

How to Become a Ghostwriter

Ghostwriting 101: A Quick Recap

Will You Give Ghostwriting a Try?

What IS Ghostwriting?

You might already have some hazy ideas about ghostwriting. When I first heard of ghostwriting, I thought it was just used for celebrity memoirs.

It turns out memoirs are just the tip of the iceberg. Ghostwriting is everywhere — from independent authors using Kindle Direct Publishing to popular bloggers using WordPress.

So what is it?

When you ghostwrite, you let someone else put their name on your work. That is, you don’t get any credit — at all.

Typically, the person who commissions the work will own the copyright, which also means they can modify or republish the work in any way they see fit.

So why would someone hire a ghostwriter? Are they too lazy to write their own stuff?

Not necessarily. People hire ghostwriters for many different reasons, but the most common ones are:

Their business has grown so much that they no longer have time to write (all) their own material.

They have a wealth of expertise or an exciting story to tell, but they don’t enjoy writing or they’re not very good at it.

It’s nothing new, either: ghostwriting has been around, in one form or another, for centuries.

To give you a better idea what being a ghostwriter may involve, my own ghostwriting has included:

Taking a rough draft, editing it heavily, and expanding on it where necessary.

Taking a blogger’s rough notes and transcribing them.

Putting together short, functional blog posts (e.g., announcing a new podcast).

Taking an assigned topic and very brief outline, then writing a post.

Writing a post based on a title and nothing more.

Coming up with ideas, getting them approved, then ghostwriting the posts (though this is rare!).

As you can see, ghostwriting has a spectrum from something akin to an editing relationship to writing a piece from scratch.

And it’s growing in popularity.

The demand for ghostwriters is so high it’s now taught in schools — California State University, Long Beach offers a Ghostwriting Professional Designation Program led by Claudia Suzanne.

Of course, I’ve only ghostwritten for blogs.

Authors like Roz Morris have written whole books as ghostwriters, which is a far more involved process that includes extensive interviews with the client.

But Why Would You Let Someone Else Take Credit for YOUR Writing?

Assuming you want to build up your own brand as a writer, why would you want to be a ghostwriter?

After all, you won’t get any of the credit. Your name won’t appear anywhere on the piece, and you probably can’t tell anyone you wrote it.

So why do so many writers ghostwrite, and why do so many love it?

Well, because there are major benefits:

Benefit #1: Being a Ghostwriter Pays Exceptionally Well

One huge reason to be a ghostwriter is money. Ghostwriting tends to pay better than regular freelancing.

After all, having your name attached to your words is valuable for you as a writer. When you have a byline, you can use that piece of work to showcase your talent, build your reputation, and potentially attract new clients.

So it’s appropriate (and standard practice) to increase your fee to compensate for the loss of these advantages.

There’s no exact rule of thumb for how much extra you should charge for ghostwriting over regular freelancing. Personally, I tend to increase my fee by about 15%–20%.

On top of that, once you’ve established a ghostwriting relationship with someone, it often results in ongoing work for you. Most people want their writing to be consistent, so it makes sense to stick with the same writer.

In other words, you have consistent work at a higher rate than usual. That’s quite a plus, isn’t it?

Benefit #2: Ghostwriting Lets You Develop Closer Relationships with Big Names in Your Field

As a ghostwriter, you’ll normally work quite closely with your client. You may be privy to their rough notes or mind maps, or you might interview them on the phone or in person.

Chances are, you’re also focusing your ghostwriting on a particular area of expertise (especially if you’re writing for a blog).

This means you’ve got a brilliant opportunity to get to know and be affiliated with someone well-established in your field.

You’ll find that you get valuable insights into the “behind the scenes” of a top blog, or you get a clearer idea of how a big-name author works and thinks.

This may be eye-opening! It could give you some ideas for how best to move forward with your own business when you start your own blog.

And as you build up closer relationships, or even friendships, with your client, they might share your other work on social media, bringing you a lot of extra traffic. (Several of the people I ghostwrite for have supported me in that way.)

If you ever need a favor or need some advice, there’s a good chance they’ll be very happy to help.

So much of blogging success depends on getting a helping hand from other bloggers — particularly those with a large audience and a great reputation in their field.

Ghostwriting brings you into close contact with exactly those people.

The Counterpoint: Why You Might NOT Want to Be a Ghostwriter

There are a couple of big concerns that writers have about ghostwriting:

“But surely that’s not ethical?”

“But why should they benefit from my hard work?”

“But what about building my platform?”

These are real, valid concerns. And for you, they may be deal-breakers.

So let’s dig into them.

Objection #1: “When You’re a Ghostwriter, You’re Helping Someone Fool Their Readers — That’s Unethical”

When you’re a ghostwriter for someone, they pass your words off as their own.

Which begs the question…

Is ghostwriting ethical?

The authors who hire ghostwriters certainly think it is! But not all writers or readers agree. Many feel that some types of ghostwriting are more ethical than others.

For instance, think about these two scenarios, which are on opposite ends of the ghostwriting spectrum:

A big-name blogger hires a ghostwriter to write an e-book on their behalf. The blogger talks to the ghostwriter for an hour and provides a detailed outline. Once the e-book is complete, the big-name blogger reads it, edits it, and puts his or her name on it.

A big-name blogger hires a ghostwriter to write an e-book on their behalf. They give the ghostwriter free rein to come up with the topic and outline, and they don’t supply any help. When it’s done, the blogger puts his or her name on it without giving it a second look.

Personally, as a reader, I’d feel comfortable with situation #1. The thoughts in the e-book belong to the blogger, but the ghostwriter has helped shape them.

Situation #2, however, seems a lot thornier. As a reader, I’d feel cheated by that.

I’m buying the e-book because I want the blogger’s expertise — not that of a ghostwriter I don’t know.

If you’re thinking of ghostwriting, you have to make up your own mind about what is — and isn’t — ethical. Where would you personally draw the line as a ghostwriter, if at all?

For more thoughts on the rights and wrongs of ghostwriting, check out Patty Podnar’s post Is Ghostwriting Ethical?

Also, Amanda Montell’s Your Favorite Influencers Aren’t Writing Their Own Content—These Women Are is quite eye-opening about some of the less ethical practices in the ghostwriting world.

Objection #2: “It’s Too Painful Watching Someone Else Get Praised for YOUR Work”

It may sound silly, but not getting recognition for your writing can be quite painful — unbearable to some.

I have to admit that, as a writer, it can sometimes sting a little to see a blogger receive lots of lovely praise for a post that I wrote every word of. And I’m not alone; many writers find themselves missing the attention and craving the recognition.

It’s no fun watching someone bask in glory that should be yours.

But think of it this way: All that praise is a sign you did a great job. You can be proud of that, and you can feel confident you’ll get hired again!

Also, as ghostwriter Roz Morris points out in an interview with whitefox, it’s not just ghostwriters who go unnoticed by readers:

There are many unsung heroes in the creative industries, and ghostwriters are only one of them. Editors can also make a huge difference to a book and are rarely credited.

So, if you can’t stand watching someone else take the praise, that’s okay. Many writers feel that way. But maybe we should also keep things in perspective.

Objection #3: “Ghostwriting Keeps You from Building Your Platform”

Even if you’re okay with someone else getting the praise, you may still oppose the idea of letting them take credit.

Some writers feel that, to become a successful freelance writer, you need to take credit for every powerful word you write and create an impressive body of work with your name on it. They believe that ghostwriting is essentially a waste of time.

After all, when you’ve got a bio (or at least your name) on every blog post you write, each of those posts helps raise your profile. You’ll be bringing in new readers and potentially new clients through your work — without any additional marketing.

This is essentially the argument that Demian Farnworth puts forward in The Brutally Honest Truth About Ghostwriting:

The first thing every writer should ask is this: What do you want to accomplish as a writer? Is building a personal and visible platform important to you? Will it help you in the long run? If you have to ghostwrite to make ends meet, fine. But beat a hasty path out of the business as soon as possible. It’s your turn to run the show.

I certainly think it’s worth putting some serious thought into how best to make ghostwriting work for you. It might be that you want to solely focus on your own platform (heck, you might even hire ghostwriters of your own, some day down the line!).

But there’s no shame in taking ghostwriting jobs to generate a steady income while you build your platform. It doesn’t have to be one or the other. You can do both at the same time.

Ghostwriting takes some focus away, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing.

By the way: We’ve created a handy visual summarizing this post that you can share and embed on your own site. Check out the image below (click to see a larger view):

Embed This Infographic On Your Site

<!—– Copy and Paste This Code Into Your Post —-><a href=”https://smartblogger.com/ghostwriting/”><img src=”https://smartblogger.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/ghostwriting-101-primer.png” alt=”Ghostwriting 101: The Must-Read Ghostwriter Primer for 2019″ width=”700 px” class=”noa3lazy”/></a><br><a href=”https://smartblogger.com/ghostwriting/”>Ghostwriting 101: The Must-Read Ghostwriter Primer for 2019 from SmartBlogger.com</a>

How to Become a Ghostwriter

If you’ve been nodding your head while reading this post, you’re probably wondering…

“Okay, but how do I become a ghostwriter?”

Answer:

The same way you become a freelance writer.

Here are the keys:

#1. Build Your Content Creation Skills

If you want to be a ghostwriter, you have to learn how to create quality content. What’s this mean? It means:

Mastering content frameworks

Learning how to write solid headlines

Knowing how to support your points with examples

Keeping your readers emotionally engaged

…and more.

Nothing will impact your ability to earn real, tangible income as a ghostwriter more than your ability to create amazing content.

So, if you don’t know how, learn.

Further Reading: Check out our resource How to Write a Blog Post – The Ultimate Guide. Once you’ve mastered the basics, read How to Create Content People Will Still Remember in 5 Years’ Time.

#2. Learn the Ins and Outs of SEO

If you can create content that will rank on Google, clients will pay you.

Happily.

Heck, they’ll throw money at you.

So how can you help your content rank on Google? By learning all you can about Search Engine Optimization (SEO) and applying what you learn to the content you create.

Further Reading: Don’t know SEO? Brian Dean has a great guide that will help you learn the basics of SEO fast.

#3. Build an Awesome Portfolio of Sample Content

Ideally, you’ll have three levels of portfolios:

A portfolio that shows you know how to write,

a portfolio that shows you’re a subject matter expert of a given topic, and

a portfolio that shows documented success for clients.

But when you’re just starting out, you need to focus on the first level:

A portfolio that proves you know how to create a decent piece of content.

If you don’t already have your own blog or website, create an account on a free blogging platform like Medium.

Two or three sample posts are enough, and you can get started right away.

#4. Find Your First Paying Client

In the early days, finding those first few clients will be difficult.

Even with solid content creation skills, SEO know-how, and a great portfolio proving you know how to write, finding paying clients without word of mouth and referrals won’t be easy.

Here’s what you’ll need to do:

Keep checking job agency postings.

Pitch to software company blogs like HubSpot, Sumo, and Ahrefs.

Do as much self-promotion as you can, including mentioning your ghostwriting service in the byline of your blog or Medium posts.

It’ll be a slow process at first, but once you get those first few clients you’ll be set. Do a great job, make your clients happy, and referrals will happen.

Further Reading: Bookmark this giant list of content marketing agencies. It’ll come in handy.

Ghostwriting 101: A Quick Recap

We’ve covered a lot, so let’s review:

What Is Ghostwriting?

Ghostwriting is when a writer (“ghostwriter”) is hired to create a piece of content for a company or individual, who will then publish the work as their own.

Do Ghostwriters Get Credit for Their Work?

Ghostwriters are paid to let someone else put their name on their work — they do not receive any credit, and they usually cannot tell anyone they wrote it.

Why Do People Hire Ghostwriters?

There are numerous reasons why someone would want to hire a ghostwriter, but two big reasons are time restraints and a lack of desire (or ability). Regardless of their reason, parties who choose to hire ghostwriters do so because it’s advantageous. (They’re getting something out of it, in other words!)

What Are the Benefits of Being a Ghostwriter?

There are two huge benefits to ghostwriting:

Exceptional pay, and

business relationships.

Because they miss out on auxiliary perks like bylines and having their name attached to the content, ghostwriters are usually well compensated. Also, ghostwriting brings ghostwriters into close contact with bloggers, authors, and influencers with large audiences. These connections can sometimes be worth more than the commission itself.

How Much Do Ghostwriters Make?

It varies from writer to writer, but an increased fee of 15% or more from their standard freelancing rate is reasonable when ghostwriting.

What Are the Typical Objections to Ghostwriting?

Those who throw shade at ghostwriting typically do so for one of three reasons:

Ethical concerns,

not wanting to see someone else get credit for their work, and

the worry ghostwriting will keep the writer from building up his or her own platform.

We’ve covered each of these objections in detail. Whether any of them are deal-breakers is up to you.

How to Become a Ghostwriter

The process is very similar to the one for becoming a regular freelance writer:

Build Your Content Creation Skills

Learn the Ins and Outs of SEO

Build an Awesome Portfolio of Sample Content

Find Your First Paying Client

In short:

Learn how to create awesome content,

learn the ins and outs of SEO so the content you produce can rank on Google,

create a portfolio of 2 or 3 posts that prove you’re a good writer, and

pound the pavement so you can secure those first few paying clients.

Will You Give Ghostwriting a Try?

Ultimately, ghostwriting can be a little divisive.

Some writers feel — passionately — that readers deserve to know exactly who wrote the words they’re reading. Others feel building your platform is too important to let someone else take credit.

But ghostwriting is a good way to make money as a writer.

And it doesn’t mean your platform is off the table. You can be a ghostwriter and have a writing career under your own name. Many writers, including me, simply use ghostwriting as a way to supplement or support their writing passions.

Personally, I think it’s worth it.

Only you can decide whether it’s right for you.

About the Author: Ali Luke blogs about the art, craft, and business of writing at Aliventures. If you’re interested in going further with ghostwriting or any type of freelance writing, check out her epic post: Freelance Writing: Ten Steps, Tons of Resources.

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alanajacksontx · 5 years