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#edit 2: something about Alex was bothering me so i changed it
frenchy-and-the-sea · 3 years
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Y'all, I think I found my new favorite picrew.
In order, left to right and top to bottom: Alex, Tahir, Finn, Davin, Myrine, Adelina and Jon. All from my personal project, Seven Cities!
Gonna tag a few people who I think would enjoy giving this one a go, no pressure tho! @rufinagertrude , @gwisincon , @thereluctantinquisitor , @captainsaku , @vargonautic , @staches-and-sabres , @themilokin , @phoenix-failing , @urdnotgrunt , @colonelcupquake , @bladeverbena , @ghilenan
(And if y'all saw me post these on Twitter before I improved on them, no you didn't)
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vicea · 3 years
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dream merch discord recap (june 12, 2021) - disclaimer: i may have missed some things or mistakenly heard other things, apologies in advanced for that!
he has not played the new minecraft update
dream “knows” the date george is coming to florida but he’s not saying it :p
dream doesn’t have anyone muted on twitter
dream guesses his favorite disney princess is belle
sapnap has seen dream’s feet before
he’s not actually connor’s dad in the dsmp lore
dreamnap do not have nicknames for each other D:
dream likes olives but especially black olives
his mother makes homemade pickles
he doesn’t have a phone case
he has dropped his phone from his ear onto concrete in the parking lot before and the screen didn’t crack
dream has six fingers /j
he pours cereal first not milk when making cereal
dream calls sapnap nick most of the time :D
what’s your dream car? “idk the one that gets me to point A to point B consistently”
he finally fixed his sleep schedule, woke up at 8 am today
mrbeast owes dream a tesla because he never sent dream the audio file
dream is a very analytical person - he thinks with numbers/data
creativity is one his strengths that he is the most proud of
3 to 4 years ago, dream used to say george looks like shawn mendes a lot, now he doesn’t resemble him as much
patches is currently sleeping <3
swimming is very relaxing to dream, he swam the other day!
many houses in florida have pools than other places, even the cheapest houses in orlando have pools
dream has merchendise defects (misprints on merch) + milestone merch and he wants to give them away to those who live in orlando (probably to anyone but the event will be held in orlando) though he doesn’t want it to be a covid super-spreader thing so once you pick up your item you gotta dip. just all an idea though
he has been donating them to charity too though :)
dream has likely read Heroes of Olympus before a long time ago
he says that he’ll do a give away of his childhood books with his signature on it
he was obsessed with the series (Percy Jackson) 
he really liked the Alex Rider series
has all of Maximum Ride books, 39 clues books
has read the legend series, the twilight series, and the maze runner
has all/read of the harry potter books, divergent, eragon
he would read all the time, to the point he would read more than one book a day (a book worm he says)
dream had a goal to read 200 books in a year and he wind up reading about 150
he doesn’t want to call it a library but- growing up he had something like that that had 600 or 700 or more books in it (privileged he admits it)
he has not read a book since he started youtube (about 2 years)
dream has a folder called Book that has his own writing in it
word count: 76000 words for one of his stories 
another one he wrote 5 chapters of
he sounds very excited/embarrassed talking about the stories he wrote he’s so endearing
the very first paragraph of one of his stories (he was young when he wrote this) “What exactly is darkness? is it the lack of light? is it a pit of nothingness? ... your mind is full of darkness...” then he couldn’t continue.
the story is about a kid who wakes up in a cell and has no idea where he is with other people who are in the same situation
dream has a world building document
he has a sequel to the first book he has ever written
he found a query letter that he wrote because he wanted to get his book published- he finds it very funny
he’s calling himself a nerd but idk it’s kind of endearing
“as you can tell i’ve always been incredibly cool and not a nerd at all! ever.”
he cringes at his own old videos
dream took a lot of inspiration from witches and wizards by james patterson for writing
the story is written in a way where the main character is actually writing the story so you’re getting input from the main character during it. there’s a lot of sarcasm in it and it’s making dream laugh
very first person narrator
he feels like it’d be very cool if he were to publish his works he wrote when he was 16 on amazon or something but he probably never would because he’d have to read through all of it and it’s just embarrassing for him
dream used to video call sapnap fairly frequently- even before youtube
he strictly remembers, a very long time (at least 7 to 9 years) ago he was at his old childhood house he video called sapnap. he was wearing a (technically) suit and he remembers specifically that he was giving sap a tour... 
“snazzy in a suit”
he had no reason to put on the suit (wow time is a flat circle huh)
drista is pretty close to sapnap’s height, she’s like 5′7″ but sap is still taller than her
dream filmed the whole thing when he and sapnap met but... it’s... gone because when he was clipping that one clip for twitter... it edited the whole video
he’s sure when they meet up with george they will film that too :D
DREAM IS PRETTY SURE THAT HE AND GEORGE WILL MEET THIS YEAR-- HE SAYS A 95% CERTAINTITY the five percent is like either restrictions or visa issues
dream does not play any instruments but he had a guitar hanging on his wall when he was younger...
dream is convinced they’re the same height but also sapnap is probably taller??
they had george compare his height to a door frame and dreamnap were googling for any doorframes to find any possible chance that george is taller than 5′8″ ... nothing came up
there’s a chance they’re both lying about being 5′8″
sap and george will literally just show up in stilts to prove they’re taller than each other /j
dream without shoes is between 6′2″ and 6′3″ with shoes he’s 6′3.5″
dream is talking about awesamdude’s fake height arc again LOL
dreamnap are very private people so they don’t bother each other but george doesn’t care and would just barge into their rooms and start bothering them- they were all joking about that over a voice call
he will visit europe
he thinks that greece would be a cool place to visit because sapnap’s family is from there :) so it’ll be like a nice “treat” to go back with sap :D
dream isn’t entirely sure that the dream team meet up will happen this year but he’s working out the details because he wants to make sure it’s safe
he’s talking to youtube about his face reveal
it’s up to george if he wants to eat healthy when they finally move in
dream just has a lot of meat and vegetables in his house
spinach with chicken is good
not much fruit (only apples and tomatoes)
“DRISTA IS 5″ is trending on twitter LOL (her height got cut off)
dream doesn’t want people flying to different places because he doesn’t want to encourage travel so he wants to do all of the meet ups with a two day heads up at most
he thinks that it’s awesome that ranboo and tubbo are meeting soon !! :D
it’s very cool to dream to see how far everyone’s has come since the beginning of the dsmp. everyone has done so much
dream finalized his youtube plan a couple weeks before he uploaded his video and he was talking to drista about how he was gonna be a big youtuber in a parking lot :”)
she was the first person he really ever talked to about it
dream would love to teach george how to drive it’d be really funny :D (a very good video or a livestream idea) 
dream knows how to ride a bike, he used to have to bike to school
he can’t explain dnf.gay he has no clue he is not responsible. sapnap was the one who found it LOL. he is adamantly exclaiming that it was not him
dream doesn’t worry about views/likes/dislikes a lot- mainly views but that’s for the new uploads
he hasn’t uploaded in like a month and a half (*cries*)
he wants to stream at some point but he doesn’t know when 
he wants to play geoguessr but not now... he doesn’t want to alt stream rn- maybe tomorrow!
he is insisting that the splash text on his minecraft home screen is by callahan
he asked callahan to send him bunch of text files that are dream team related so that the splash can rotate through it but callahan thought it was funny (it is) to put only dreamnotfound <3 so it doesn’t ever change at all and dream doesn’t even know how to change and he has asked callahan to change it but he said no (even though dream pays him LMAO)
the video referenced in the padilla’s video is still in the works, it might be handed over to sapnap though !
he has no idea if he will be in MCC pride yet
padilla got dream’s input for the video, dream found him to be a very nice guy ! :) it’s the first interview that dream did that wasn’t by a person with a negative opinion of dream
dream felt relaxed doing the interview with padilla 
?????? he’s blaming callahan for his “dnfisreal” nickname in bedwars 
he’s blaming callahan for a lot of dnf-related stuff
callahan runs the dream fanart account thus the liking of dnf content
he’s so insistent that it was callahan
dream admits that he was lying about the twitter and other stuff but for sure callahan did code the splash text in LOL
dream liking that tweet “the chances of george doing a hot tub stream is the same of dnf dating” was “funny” he wasnt trying to do any commentary...
the inside joke of “oh it’s all just a joke to you” originates from george and sapnap actually always fighting (like them yelling and shouting at each other) and george said something really mean and sapnap was hurt then geroge said “it was just a joke” and sapnap replied with that line and ever since then it’s been a meme LOL
he says that everyone does the hand-on-the-passenger-seat-while-reversing thing
dream is offline raiding with his chat with 6k people
dream appreciates us and will talk to us soon! 
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anonquack · 3 years
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| And Me? |
Alex Quackity x Reader, Oneshot!
Word Count: 2262
Warnings: None! Just some curse words.
Summary: Seeing how much time you've been spending with Bad recently just doesn't sit well with Quackity, and he's going to make sure your attention is returned back to where it belongs. With him.
You had been messing around with what was coined the "Feral Boys" on a Saturday afternoon. Your takeout order was placed on your desk, neglected by the loud clicking and tapping of your keyboard. You all had been throwing around random stream ideas, which proceeded to be bashed by everyone.
"Guys," Dream groaned, frustration clear in his tone yet there was still that softness that let everyone know he wasn't actually mad, "we've been on call for 2 hours and still have no stream ideas we like."
"Maybe if Sapnap didn't complain about everything." Karl quickly quipped in, the grin that was probably plastered onto his face was visible to you even with it just being voice chat.
Sapnap clapped back just as quickly, a little more edge to his words but just the right amount of teasing too.
"Yeah? Nothing works with your schedule. We gotta fit these ideas in with your Mr. Beast-filled schedule."
Quackity let out a laugh that made you roll your eyes yet smile fondly as you finally turned to look at your food, taking a bite as the call jumped right back into their previous banter, a helpless Dream trying to regain control and get everyone to work together.
It served as background noise as you quietly ate your food, inputting or agreeing with someone here and there, your stomach grateful to finally be getting some food. You'd been too busy earlier, and now you had the chance to eat and relax on call with friends. No actual streaming or anything, but still with the burden of coming up with new and fun stream ideas.
As you took yet another bite, your gaze fell onto your phone as the screen lit up, a notification coming through. You set your food down and grabbed the device, clicking on it and smiling once you saw it was a message from Bad.
Unlike whatever mess this call was, you had scheduled to record a video with Bad, and you assumed this message was to confirm that he was now available to film. After quickly reading it, your assumptions were proven right.
"Hey, Bad just texted. I'm gonna head out. Try not to think too hard while I'm gone, okay?" You said as you grabbed ahold of your mouse again, cursor going towards the disconnect button.
There was a mix of 'Bye!' and 'You think of some too, then!' and Sapnap's backhanded remarks that told you he would indeed miss you. You smiled, about to click disconnect before he spoke up.
"Bad? What are you recording with Bad?" The question caught you off guard, not because it came from Quackity but because no one had asked.
"Oh, well, just for a youtube video.. and I promised him we'd chat since I miss him." You admitted, cursor dancing across the screen as you waited for a response, if there was to be any.
"How come we didn't get invited?" Quackity asked, voice a mix of feigned hurt and disbelief of being 'left out'.
You playfully rolled your eyes, noticing a message come in from Bad yet again asking if he could call now. "You spend enough time with Bad as it is. Get in line, right now its MY turn. Now bye!! Seriously." You chuckled, hearing the start of a protest before disconnecting from the call and moving your cursor onto Bad's chat, quickly pressing the call button and waiting to hear his sweet voice ringing through your headphones.
As the small ping notified everyone else in the call that you had disconnected, Quackity let out a small huff, followed by George's small laugh.
"What was that?"
"What was what?" Quackity replied with a tired tone, fingers lazily typing up some email he had been procrastinating on.
"Was that jealously I smelled, Big Q?" Karl teased, letting out a laugh that was so contagious, eliciting laughs from the whole call, even Quackity couldn't help but laugh before letting out another noise of disapproval.
"No, what the fuck? It's just they didn't even contribute any ideas. Just sat and argued with us, and then left to go hang out with Bad." He reasoned, it was a half truth. It didn't bother Quackity at all that you'd been 'unproductive', he enjoyed your company so much and these past two hours had left him with a tummy ache from laughing too hard.
What he hadn't enjoyed was you dropping everything to go on a call with Bad.
It didn't actually bother him, it was part of the bit they had going on, where he was a Skeppy 2.0 and had to fight the other Skeppy copies, in this case YOU, for Bad's attention.
..
Right?
He could feel a migraine coming through trying to understand this new emotion settling in his chest.
Sapnap let out an amused laugh, mumbling a 'sure' but swiftly changing topics in order to not start yet another argument.
It had been about 4 days since the call with the 'Feral Boys' and the recording with Bad. Since then, everything had ran smoothly and you'd been extra productive, focused on getting the video edited and posted as soon as possible.
Currently, you were ringing Bad as he streamed on the server, wanting to make a quick appearance and also just bug him for a bit since you missed him.
Since it was a rather chill stream, Bad didn't fight away your affection, instead encouraging that you hop on the server and play with him for a bit. You couldn't say no to that, how could you?
Before you knew it, you were off your bed and on your chair, in front of your computer as the Minecraft loading screen lit up your facial features and Bad told chat and you about an event that took place this weekend while he was out shopping.
The hushed laughs and sweet stories being shared were soon interrupted by Bad letting out an annoyed huff. "Quackity is spamming me to let him join the call. Is that okay, Y/N?"
You nodded, letting out a hum of approval as you walked towards Bad's avatar that was currently standing still since Bad tabbed out. "Of course."
"Okay, Quackity I'm live, what do you want?" Bad warned before tabbing back onto minecraft.
"Why are you guys calling without me?" There it was, the same tone he had 4 days ago when he was 'upset' he got left out. Your eyes looked at the small message on the bottom left of the screen that let everyone know Quackity had joined the server.
"Because.. whats wrong with it?" Bad asked, confused, before happily following that up, "I was actually telling them about my trip to the store over the weekend."
"Yeah, he was," you mused, "before you rudely interrupted." You assumed he was here for a bit, the Skeppy 2.0s fighting for Bad's love and affection, bothering Bad for a bit before letting the stream go back to being a relaxing, chill stream.
"Yeah? Well I want to hear the story too. You'll tell me too, right Bad?" He returned, the joking tone in his voice confirmed your assumptions. This was a bit.
Bad let out an exasperated sigh. These bits were never planned beforehand, they just happened and unfortunately for Bad it was happening during his chill stream. "What are you two going to fight about now?"
"I have one. Why were you guys recording without me? Hm?" The chat exploded with confusion and excitement for a new video from either Bad or you, possible video ideas being thrown around in chat.
"Because." You deadpan, "If you can do it, so can I."
"That's different." He says every single syllable with precision, as if he is preaching something of upmost importance. "You two spend way too much time together now."
Bad says something to try and interfere the banter he knows is about to take place, chat is going crazy about the Skeppy 2.0s fighting for Bad's love. "So much for a chill stream." He mumbles to chat as his character watches you and Quackity hitting each other. With your fists, since it was deemed a 'fair fight' by both.
After about 3 hours, Bad decided he'd had enough and began saying goodbye to chat. There was a content smile on your lips as you made your character crouch beside Bad's, letting out a small and content "Bye chat!". Quackity had stayed the 3 hours as well, and was yelling his own goodbyes. As soon as the stream ended, Bad let out a small laugh.
"Sometimes you two are just too much." He said, the smile evident in his voice. "Do you guys enjoy bothering me that much?"
"Aw c'mon, Bad. You know we love you tons. And you know damn well you enjoy it too." Quackity teased, which earned yet another exasperated sigh from Bad.
"Okay, well I'm heading to bed.. I'm exhausted. Thank you two, for joining me tonight.. I had fun." He said softly, which automatically made a frown appear on your lips.
"Of course, Bad! I had fun too. Thanks for letting us join. I'll call you tomorrow, yeah?" You offered, to which he hummed. There was a few more goodbyes exchanged before the ping notified you both Bad was gone.
There was silence for a bit as you finally got out of the server and shut minecraft off, wanting to rest your eyes for a bit. Maybe even head to bed yourself.
"You'll call him tomorrow, huh?"
Your eyes closed and you leaned your head back against your chair.
"Bit's over, Quackity." You chuckled, not up for yet another banter about who deserved Bad's love more.
"When's the last time we called? Now it's just Bad this, Bad that."
Your eyes opened, your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at his little profile picture that had its green ring fading around it.
"What?" You said in pure disbelief.
"You heard me." He mumbled. "Video recordings, streams, calls. And me? Nothing. Not one crumb."
"What about you?" You teased, amusement growing as you realized the past 3 hours had not been about Bad, at least not entirely.
"Don't make me actually say it." He complained, which only helped make the smile on your face grow.
"Use your words, Alex. I can't read minds." You gently bit at your bottom lip in anticipation, and in poor attempt to hold back the laugh that was threatening to escape.
"Where's my calls? My recordings. You can't just randomly strip away all your attention from me and dump it on Bad."
"I didn't even do that." You protested, before letting the laugh escape your lips. "Plus, you should be greedy over Bad's attention, not mine."
"Maybe it's not for a bit, asshole? Did you think of that?" He asked sarcastically, earning a scoff from you.
"So you want my attention yet you're going to proceed to call me an asshole?"
"Yes." He breathed out.
"You didn't deny it." You hummed in slight approval. Usually he'd shy away from showing any actual clinginess or affection, and yet here he was, declaring with his whole chest that he wanted attention.
"Because I'm serious. Do you think this is a joke? Is that what I am to you?" He said dramatically, to which you shook your head.
"Of course not." You hummed before smiling at the absurdity of this conversation.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep finally catching up to you and now you were imagining things.
"So? Does this mean I'm getting daily calls, recording videos with you, and streaming together whenever? Even on the alt?"
"Now you're just asking for too much."
"It's the bare minimum you can do for treating me so poorly and neglecting your responsibilities."
"Neglecting my responsibilities?" You repeated in disbelief.
"Yes." He declared. "Ignoring me for Bad is neglecting your responsibilities. A.K.A. me."
"I wasn't ignoring you, Alex." You tried to reason, though he would not listen to any reasoning.
"Yeah, yeah. So what? Do we have a deal?"
You paused and thought about what he was asking for. It really wasn't much, and he was most likely joking, but it was very endearing to see him ask for attention so openly. Especially from you.
"Did you miss me, Alex? While I was off on calls with Bad, talking about who knows what until who knows what time.. were you missing me? Thinking about me?" There was a teasing tone to your voice, but you also genuinely wanted to know.
It was clear that it caught him offguard.
"I mean.. yeah– what do you want me to say? No, fuck you. I didn't miss you at all. That's why I'm on call with you whining and bitching about how you don't give me enough attention and I want more. Specifically from you, please."
His last few words came out more hushed than the rest, and it brought a smile onto your face.
"Okay."
"Okay-?"
"You don't have to go on.. I'll give you the attention you want so badly from me." You said, the grin on your face growing more at the sound of happiness he let out.
"I guess directly asking for stuff isn't too bad, hm? I'll have to give props to Karl later for the advice."
You raised your eyebrows in amusement. "You asked Karl for advice on how to get my attention-?"
He let out a small groan, "Let's not talk about this with anyone, yeah? Just give me my attention and shh."
You hummed, "Whatever you say, Alex."
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wavyhairedbabyy · 3 years
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Idiots - Part 1
Karl Jacobs x gn!reader
tldr: They’ve both got a crush. Sucks, since they’re the only ones oblivious to it. (Slow Burn!)
CW: some swearing(not at each other), fluffy as a teddy bear.
a/n: I got a random influx of followers ;-; Tysm for enjoying my works and sharing them. I haven’t written in 6 years, in case it wasn’t obvious lmao, so even one is super meaningful to me :) this ended up being way longer than I intended it to be so I’m splitting it into 2 parts. 
edited yet: yes - let me know if I missed anything!
Part 1 - Part 2
Y/n and Karl met when Karl was still going to college in New York before dropping things to move to North Carolina. They met the fall of their sophomore year at the campus café when Karl was trying to shoot a piece of paper into a trash can. The problem was he couldn’t aim and it landed right in y/n’s mug of coffee, quickly dissolving into a paper coffee soup. For anyone else it would’ve been okay but being that coffee was y/n’s life line, especially during finals, it most definitely was not.
“You’re buying me another, right?” they asked, “I would highly recommend it or you might see a side of me you don’t want to see.”
Being the good guy he was, and the slight fear of their bad side, he did with no questions.
“So, since there’s a side of you I don’t want to see, and I bought you a new coffee, do I get to see the side of you that I do want to see?”
“Find me next semester and you might.”
And he did.
***
“Karl, if you don’t give me that sword, I’m going to hurt you!” Y/n screamed as they lunged toward him. It was y/n, Karl, and Chris hanging out at Karl’s place until it was time to leave for a Mr. Beast project. They sat in his living room, Karl with a foam sword that y/n was desperate to take from him.
“That’s the problem! If I give it to you, you will hurt me with it!” He yelled back, jumping out of their reach.
“Okay children, why don’t I just take the sword so we can end all of this?” Chris intervened in an attempt to stop the ruckus.
Both of them paused, looking at him in disbelief. They shook their head and in unison scoffed, “No!”
The two continued their play fighting, one holding on to the sword for a short period of time before the other pulled it from their grasp. This went on until it was time to leave the house.
While this was all going down, Chris watched Karl’s behavior. He noticed how he let y/n hold on to the sword a little longer, even when he could’ve easily reached out to grab it from their hands. He noticed how he was much more careful with his movements, almost scared to be too rough with them.
With anyone else, Chris knew Karl’s pride would have taken over in this situation. He thought back to any other time he had any of his SMP friends over. With Nick or Alex, he would have hogged the sword and brutally whacked either of them with it as much as he could. He would happily tacked them and pinned them to the ground. With y/n though... there was a gentleness with them, and Chris did not fail on picking that up.
“Okay lame-os, let’s get on over to the warehouse. Y/n, you coming?” Chris asked.
Y/n shook their head, “Nah. I’m gonna unpack my stuff and relax from the flight. Plus, word on the street says that tomorrow is when the cool stuff is happening so I’ll come then.” they replied.
“Well the street is right, but they’re still a dummy,” Chris looked at Karl for reference.
“Hey...” Karl faked a sad look before staring at y/n for defense.
Y/n giggle and just shrugged, waving goodbye to the both of them, “If you don’t bring me back Burger King fries, don’t bother coming back at all!”
***
Chris and Karl sat in the car, Chris driving and Karl in the passenger seat. With some music on in the background, the two were discussing the plan of action for what was going to be filmed for the day.
“Do you know how long it’s going to take?” Karl asked, “I feel bad leaving y/n by themselves so I want to try to get out as early as humanly possible.”
“I’m not really sure. I’m sure Jimmy wouldn’t mind you scootin’ out a little early,” Chris replied. He took the opportunity and leaned over to his friend, “Speakin’ of y/n, anything going on there? Y’know, anything special?”
“Uhh- whaddya mean special?” Karl haphazardly, “We’re best friends. I think that’s pretty special.”
“No, idiot. I mean is there anything there besides just being best friends,” Chris paused for a second, “I dunno. I just noticed you’re different with them, man. You know you would never treat Nick or Alex the way you treated them.”
Karl paused, trying to think of a response but failing. He sighed, “Yeah, there’s definitely something there on my end. I mean, I’ve been attracted to them since we first met. I just don’t think they reciprocate it.”
“You never know if you don’t try. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“I’d rather not think about it,” Karl sunk into his seat, thinking of all the bad endings that could happen if he told y/n his feelings.
***
Meanwhile this was happening, y/n was making themselves comfortable in Karl’s guest room. They planned on staying for a week and a half which meant packing a month’s worth of clothes. Before starting to unpack their things into the dresser, they FaceTimed their other best friend that was back in New York to keep them company.
“You’re calling me now? Your flight landed 4 hours ago! I was sure you crashed in the middle of the ocean - gone like that Malaysia flight,” y/bff answered.
“Hi to you too,” y/n responded as they started to place their clothes in the closet, “ You are so dramatic. My flight didn’t even go over the ocean. And don’t act like you weren’t tracking my flight. You knew damn well I was fine.”
“All this worrying and caring, and this is how I’m being treated?” Y/bff shook their head as the wiped their fake tears away “The disrespect.”
“Pft, the only disrespect I’m seeing here is the lack of questions about my day,” y/n said, “I had a great flight. I got those yummy blue chips and had a nice drive from the airport in a Tesla.”
Y/bff gasped, “What kind of Uber driver is driving around a Tesla? We need more of those people up here.”
“Dude, it was Karl,” y/n replied, “I was shocked. Last time I saw this kid he was driving a hunk of junk. One year down here and he’s driving around like he’s Elon Musk.”
“Well, I’ll tell you this now. If you don’t cuff him, I will!” Their laugh echoed through the phone
Y/n rolled their eyes, “Oh please, if he doesn’t like me like that then you’re in no good luck.”
“So you told him then?”
“No, not yet,” y/n paused, “I dunno. We’ve been friends for 3, almost 4, years now. If he liked me, he would’ve said something by now. Plus we live so far away from each other now. I just don’t wanna ruin a good thing, y’know?”
“Well, I still say do it. You can tell him and spend your life in peace knowing his answer, or keep it to you yourself and spend the rest of your life wondering ‘what if?’ And I’ll tell you now, the latter always ends with regret. With the first answer, you’ll at least have a chance of a happy ending.”
Y/n shrugged, putting away the last piece of clothing from their luggage, “I know, I know. I’ll think about it. Thanks for the chat, but I’m gonna go relax now before he gets back. I love and miss you already.”
They exchanged their goodbyes and hung up. Y/n flattened their luggage and slid it under the bed. Moving back to the dresser, they found some comfortable clothes to change into after a shower.
Y/n knew y/bff was right. They just couldn’t bring themselves to share their feelings. What if Karl didn’t feel the same way? Would it ruin their friendship? Would this be the last time they ever saw each other? No, y/n knew it wouldn’t end their friendship, but it would make it awkward for a little while. They moved to the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help them compose their thoughts.
***
“I’m back!” Karl shouted as he kicked the door shut behind him. The project took a few hours so the sun had set and nighttime was settling itself in North Carolina. There was no response. Karl continued, “And I have Burger King fries!”
“You should’ve started out with that! Coming!” Y/n yelled from down the hall. Karl rolled his eyes and walked over to the living room table. He started making room for the food when he heard fast footsteps coming toward him.
“Incoming!” Y/n yelled, tackling him to the floor with a hug. They were giggling as if they just pulled the best prank in the world.
“Hi to you too,” he groaned from his body hitting the floor. Y/n continued to chuckle as they got up, grabbing Karl’s hand to help him up too. They sat on the couch, looking at the food in front of them.
“A whole whopper meal? What did I do to get the honors, Mr. Jacobs?” Y/n remarked in a posh accent, popping a fry into their mouth.
“You existed,” Karl giggled out. Y/n smiled, but the butterflies in their stomach couldn’t feign their excitement. It was small shit like that that made y/n fall for Karl. He continued, “Plus I didn’t know if you ate or not so I thought better safer than sorry.”
“Aw, you’re the sweetest,” they gave him a tight hug before returning to the spot they were in on the couch, “So, what’s the plan, Stan?”
“I’m kind of tired from filming, I hope you don’t mind-”
“Actually, I completely mind” y/n replied sarcastically. Karl shook his head at them.
“So, I was thinking we could just watch a movie or watch a show,”
“Ah yes, head empty activities. I’m down. Can we watch a movie though? Not in the mood for a show right now,” y/n replied.
“Sure let’s scroll through and find something,” Karl switched on the TV and the two munched on their food while they decided what they were going to watch. After 20 minutes of scrolling, which really was 20 minutes of fighting over who had better taste in movies, they finally agreed on Wall-E.
Before the movie started, y/n looked over to Karl. Their hands were in the shape of finger guns, pointed to each other and the tips of their index fingers touching. They had a pout on their face when they asked, “Can we cuddle while we watch?”
“No,” Karl shook his head quickly, keeping a stoic, straight face. Y/n’s pout got bigger. He continued, “I absolutely hate physical touch.”
They both immediately broke out into giggles, y/n grabbing the nearest pillow and smacking him with it, “You are so lame.”
Karl continued with his fit of giggle, “The day I say that and mean it is the day hell freezes over.”
As the intro to the movie played, the two came closer, y/n’s legs tangling up with Karl’s. When they finished up their food, they moved closer with Karl’s arm around y/n’s shoulders and their head laying on his chest.
Y/n gave a playful scoff, reminiscing on their past memories together, “This reminds me of the time we had a Disney movie marathon before spring break.”
Karl laughed, “Yeah, and you made my old roommate cry beforehand because he wasn’t doing his dishes all semester.”
“In my defense, I gave him warnings. He didn’t wanna listen and there’s no way I was letting you live in a house with a sink full of fruit flies.”
“I’m not sure if you did that for me or because you practically lived with us.”
“Don’t get it mixed up, pretty boy. That was for you.” Karl smiled at those words, looking down at the person laying on their chest. He wanted to believe there was more than friendship behind those words. The warm feeling he would always get with them filled his chest as he turned his focus back to the movie.
“I really missed you.” He whispered.
“I really missed you too.”
***
Part 2
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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 10 - Clean This Up
Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, who is he really?, 2.9k
@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends
WARNINGS: abuse, mild violence
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9
Alex had said to check the diner, so Victoria opted to have dinner there and asked to see the owner. She was aware of the vigilante-style work she was doing, but with everything else going on in her life, this couldn’t possibly hurt any worse. Folding her hands, she breathed calmly as she peeked at the menu. It was important not to act as authoritative as she usually did, she reminded herself. A portly man with short gray hair and a mustache came over and took the seat across from her.
“Hi there,” the man said, shaking Victoria’s hand. “What can I do for you?”
“Hi, I’m Victoria Molina,” she introduced herself. “I was actually trying to find someone and I was told you could help me.”
The man raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Oh, alright. Who are you looking for?”
“I’m looking for a young man of about seventeen, he goes by Willie? I was told he works here. I just have some questions for him. Would he happen to be in at all today?”
“We don’t have anyone named Willie here anymore,” the man told her. “I actually just bought this establishment along with the hotel about two weeks ago and a few of the staff followed the previous owner to a different business. You might want to talk to him instead.”
“Oh,” Victoria sat back in slight disappointment. “I take it you’re not Caleb Covington?”
“No, he’s the guy I bought it from. I’m Frank Wolfe. I can give you his contact information, though.”
Nodding, she smiled politely.
“I would appreciate that. Sorry I had to come bother you, though.”
“Not at all,” he said. “I apologize that I can’t be any more useful. If you like, I can take your order.”
“Oh, thank you. I’ll actually have the carne asada.”
“Perfect,” he smiled as he took her menu away. “I’ll have that information for you in just a minute, too.”
Taking a gulp of water, Victoria sighed. It certainly felt just like any regular case. The fact the business had recently changed hands made her want to be suspicious, but she fought to remain level-headed. It was enough that she was going off the word of a teenage boy and an old poster. If it was a dud, if this trip led nowhere, she would buy Carlos a gift and head home safe and sound.
After finishing her meal, she returned to her hotel room and pulled out the business card Frank Wolfe had given her. Something about the dark purple design and the old-fashioned lettering he’d chosen made her feel like Caleb Covington was at least a little pretentious, if not flashy about his business. Picking up the phone and dialing the number, she held her breath waiting for an answer.
“Caleb Covington, who may I be speaking to?” a baritone voice chimed on the other end. The touch of sing-song in his tone was unexpected.
“Hi, my name is Victoria,” she introduced herself for the second time that night. “I was told you were the guardian of a young man named Willie?”
“Are you with social services?” he asked.
She furrowed her brow. “I’m sorry?”
“I usually only get a call when we have a hearing scheduled, but our last one was just a couple months ago.” His tone had gone from happy to serious at such a jarring speed it took Victoria a moment to process his words.
“No,” she said finally. “No, I’m not with them. I didn’t mean to confuse you. I’m actually reaching out on a personal favor. See another young man I know says they met a while back.”
“Oh, is it the band that came through a few weeks ago?” Caleb immediately picked the cheer back up.
“Yes, I’m glad you remember,” she responded, surprised.
“How are those boys doing?”
“Oh, they’re just fine. I think they’re gonna be a success.”
“Good to hear it,” he said. “Listen, no harm done. I own a swanky little club just in the south of town. I would be delighted if you gave me a visit, and I’d be happy to chat.”
“Sounds great, thank you,” Victoria smiled, unable to believe how easy that felt. “I can stop by tomorrow evening.”
“Wonderful. If it isn’t too much, I’ll make you a reservation.”
“Well, I can’t say no to such generosity!” It had been a long time since Victoria had gone on a night out. This was a much needed vacation, and if it killed two birds with one stone, all the better. She said goodbye and decided since she was practically getting everything she needed at the club, the rest of the day would be spent treating herself for once.
Willie skateboarded up the driveway and only just remembered Caleb’s rule about the pool in time to hop off before pulling off his helmet and going around the back. He took the back route into the house and dropped a number of grocery bags on the counter. One of these days he would age out of the foster system and not spend the morning being Caleb’s errand boy, but for now he just laid Caleb’s credit card on the table and went outside toward his shed.
Opening the door, he saw Caleb standing in the middle of the room, looking around at all of his drawings. Paper covered most of the walls now. Faces with no names to them, locations with no map to their destination - only snippets of a past life. Willie couldn’t stop drawing them. There still weren’t many memories returning to him, but any detail was an important one. He hadn’t drawn this much in ages, since before he found Sheldon. The backwards dream had become a recurring one by now, and there was still very little that he understood about it. Still, he had so many scenes made out of it that he could almost recreate the dream in a very rough animation.
“Hi C-Caleb,” Willie stammered. This never happened. It made him immediately nervous.
“What a collection, William,” Caleb said, not exactly sounding like an awed patron in a museum. “I mean, the sheer volume of work that went into these is absolutely mind-blowing.”
A small pebble of pride rose in Willie’s chest.
“Really?.... Um, thank you.” He couldn’t suppress his smile.
Caleb held up a hand and looked down at his well-manicured nails, and then back up.
“I just don’t understand why I look so hostile in this one,” he said, pointing to the picture in question. “And that one. And all of these in this corner.” His gaze returned to Willie with unprecedented menace.
Willie immediately shrank away, his mouth gaping open.
“Well...I..they’re from a dream.”
“A dream?” Caleb repeated, not liking what he was hearing.
“Yeah, I think it was a memory.”
Willie watched the man straighten his posture, a calculating expression on his face.
“Are these all memories?” Caleb asked after a tense moment, casting his eyes about the room.
“I think so,” Willie said hesitantly.
Caleb lifted a hand and grabbed the bottom of one. It was the first one WIllie had done of his dad sitting inside the truck and smiling at him.
“Hm,” was all that he said for a second.
And then he tore it in half.
Willie made toward the picture in alarm, feeling a part of him inside being torn just the same, but was stopped as Caleb held a hand out.
“Ah ah,” he said. “What have I told you about becoming your own person regardless of the past?” He took a handful of another drawing and ripped that one too.
Ignoring what Caleb said, Willie lunged forward to try stopping him anyway. Caleb was faster, grabbing his shirt and tossing him backward into the wall. He couldn’t help but begin crying.
“But these are my memories, why would you - ” he sputtered, lost for words.
“Because, William,” Caleb continued loudly, pulling as many as he could off the wall and shredding them into smaller pieces. “Your history? The one full of loss and being shuffled here and there? That is all that awaits you. You know it’s the truth; that’s how you ended up here. I offer you the opportunity to become a new person, and I can’t allow you to spoil yourself with reminders. And besides, those little friends you not-so-secretly made a few weeks ago have started snooping around in my business, and I can’t have that.”
He didn’t even pick anything up, he just left paper strewn all over the floor and walked all over it. As he made for the last wall, Willie made one more attempt to overpower him. He leapt onto Caleb’s shoulders and tried to pull him back with all his weight. A fist landed in his eye and he slacked his grip. Caleb wrestled him onto the bed and held him down, a crazed look in his eye that Willie swore he’d never seen no matter how familiar it felt.
“I don’t understand, what do they have to do with it? Why can’t I have friends?”
“I’m doing this for your own good,” Caleb hissed at him. “You” - he reached up and touched the scar on Willie’s head with his finger - “You got a reboot and you know how many people are lucky enough for that? You should thank me. Unfortunately, you can’t have friends when they send someone asking me questions about that little past of yours. That’s just asking for trouble.”
All Willie could do was hold his eye and lay back as Caleb tore up the last of the drawings. Once he finished, Caleb patted himself off and made his way out the door.
“Clean this up,” he told Willie. “And don’t bother doing any more art.”
As the door shut behind him, Willie scrambled onto the floor to search for just one of the drawings. Shuffling through smudged pieces of paper, he saw a few tears drop onto his ruined work. Eventually, he held the picture of his father in two pieces in his hands. Sobbing, he tried to hold them together evenly, but Caleb’s work had made that hard to do. His only hope was to try drawing it again, but he was already terrified of what Caleb’s reaction to that would be if his first one had been this.
A piece of another drawing caught Willie’s eye from underneath. He recognized Caleb’s snarling face from the dream and was surprised at how well it captured what he’d just witnessed. His mind went back to the way he knew the look in Caleb’s eyes. Suddenly, the awful realization dawned on him: he finally understood the dream.
Victoria walked into the club that evening, glad she had taken the time to look and feel fresh. This place was clearly up to snuff and then some. A live band played with dancers scattered throughout, all in bright, sparkly, feathery getup. A tall man with neatly styled dark hair was mesmerizing the crowd as he sang, keeping the energy high. As she was led to a table, Victoria simply sat and watched, greatly impressed with the talent.
Once the man’s solo finished, he bowed, gestured at the band to play on without him, and exited the stage. To Victoria’s surprise, he took the seat directly across from her.
“Ms. Victoria, you look so lovely, how are we this evening?” he asked with a charming smile. “I’m Caleb Covington.”
“Are you kidding me?” she started. “That was you up there? You’re a man of many talents; I’m already dazzled.”
“Oh, well, I hope that remains a constant while you’re here,” he said. "But you came to ask me about some other things, what were they?”
“Yes, I had some questions about Willie.”
Willie sat outside the bodega, unwilling to move for a while. He felt like everything inside of him was empty, as if Caleb had possessed claws and dug everything out until he was left hollow. The many ideas that had risen in his mind in the past few hours were all too much, all at once. If he dared, was he sure he could handle everything that might come his way? Every time he’d heard that ridiculous speech about starting over, becoming his own, yada-yada, he hadn’t considered any of the options he was now contemplating.
He’d already done some things. Already bought some things. Now he got up to collect Sheldon and held him tightly as he nodded to Escobar, who saluted him back. The man had said he didn’t want a dramatic thank you. Stuffing the items he purchased in his bag, he kept a hold of Sheldon as he skated off into the darkness.
“So, you see, Willie isn’t missing. He was abandoned,” Caleb was saying to Victoria. “Poor thing has struggled to adjust. I’ve dealt with some handfuls in the past, but I really have been doing the most for him, and he’s been with me for more than three years. I think it’s really sweet of those boys to raise a concern, and I hate to be a dead end, but that’s the truth of it.”
Victoria sat, nodding in acceptance.
“That makes a lot of sense, Mr. Covington, thank you for providing that for me.”
“Oh, call me Caleb. We’re all friends in here.”
“Okay, then, Caleb,” she corrected. “What got you into foster care?”
He put a hand over his heart and a fond look came over him.
“The youth are just full of so much magic, and I hate to see that their parents have chosen to lay it to waste. I’m the one who takes some of the tougher cases so I can bring out the best in them. You see that young man over there, Dante?” Caleb pointed at one of the dancers. “Classic rebel when he was young. You wouldn’t even know, he’s turned into such a gentleman. There’s a few more here and there in the club. I call them my graduates.”
“Well, I will tell you,” Victoria said. “When I first talked to you on the phone I wasn’t expecting you to be so generous. But now I can see that it’s just how you are.”
Caleb shot her a playful smile.
“Victoria, no need to butter me up. I do have some tight business practices to keep up.”
Fluid poured over every inch of the shed. Willie had made sure it was more than enough to get things going. He’d made sure to get the essentials: food for himself and Sheldon, a few changes of clothes, and a stash of money he’d taken from the safe in Caleb’s bedroom. The man shouldn’t have given him the combination in the first place.
Stepping out of the shed he looked at it one last time. What a sad, lousy existence. Living to perform for this man who shut him up inside this little thing and he had actually called it home? The further he was into his plan, the bolder he began to feel. He remembered when he had missed getting into the Pearl and that feeling of wrongness that had made him so frustrated. This feeling he had right now? It was so right. It was so right it drowned out anything scary about this whole idea.
He looked back at where he had put Sheldon on a small leash and tied him along the fence around Caleb’s backyard. It was definitely a safe distance. Then Willie pulled a box of matches out of his pocket, lit one, and looked at the flame for a minute. He held it just over the threshold of the doorway so it would land inside. It was so weak, like he had been ever since his accident. But he knew it was going to become so powerful, and he desperately hoped that he could retain some of that power for himself.
“Clean this up, Caleb,” he said, and he let his fingers go.
Victoria had stayed just a little longer to enjoy more food and music before standing up and heading toward the door. Caleb saw her on her way out and made her stop for a moment.
“It’s been a lovely night, and I’m grateful for everything you told me,” she said to him.
“Well I’m glad you took the opportunity to see what I have here,” he replied. “If you’re ever in the city again, please stop by. We’re always partying and putting on the best show.”
“Oh, I most certainly will,” she said, smiling as she made her way outside.
Someone tapped on Caleb’s shoulder from behind. Wordlessly, he turned to see who it was and why it was important.
“Sir,” one of his servers said. “You have a phone call. It’s the fire department.”
“What?” Caleb spat as he went to pick it up.
Willie sped along on his board the best that he could with Sheldon in his arms. He carefully made it down the ramp onto the freeway, controlling his speed as well as he could. He could picture Caleb now, just getting back to his home, eyes wide as he came upon the blaze. It was a very strange feeling, but right now Willie chose to focus on his newfound freedom. The cost wasn’t the matter right now. Freedom was all that was going to take him and his cat as far as they could go. The destination for now was Los Angeles.
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24hoursofdaisy · 3 years
Text
check in tag
hi was tagged by the sweetheart @dongkwan (ty 🌼) (to read just klick “keep reading”)
1. why did you choose your url?
i just now noticed that i dont remember my previous url anymore lol but i wanted to change it and so a brainstormed a bit and came up with it. I kinda wanted to combine my 2 ult groups (svt +ptg) and i thought the name sounded cute. 
2. any side blogs? if you have them name them and why you have them.
I refused to make several blogs for years until now. but before i became a kpop multistan blog I used to have something like an aesthetic which i totally lost and I wanted to bring back so now i have a “pink aesthetic” and a “neutrals/earthy (?????) aesthetic” blog to be more satisfied with myself again 
3. how long have you been on tumblr?
around 5-6 years. actually i only changed urls several times... this blog is a mess
4. do you have a queue tag?
i do! bcs my brain is full of memes it is “#hello is it me queue looking for” and my brain actually plays the song every time i use the tag. currently i dont use it as much tho
5. why did you start your blog in the first place?
I started as a 5sos fanblog and added bands and further tried to develop some kind of aesthetic
6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?
because i am currently a bit obsessed with seungyoun and i really loved the outfit and everything in this photoshoot
7. why did you choose your header?
i wanted to change my blogs colors and everything and i thought that maybe do or not would be a great mv for a header bcs it is also more recent than naughty boy. and i really like orange/blue combos so i though it would be a great color scheme.
8. what's your post with the most notes?
it is this one which i posted during my 5sos blog era. Long story. Anyways it got this many notes bcs it did get reblogged by the official 5sos blog. But my most popular kpop post is this kingdom set which is funny to me bcs i didnt really like it when i finished editing it and also was like “well i wont gif another kingdom vid again, it’s not worth it”
9. how many mutuals do you have?
more than i could ever imagine. I am thankful for every single one. the exact number is a bit difficult bcs some are of “other eras” and also some blogs have different main blogs which i dont follow. 
10. how many followers do you have?
429 but it would be so much lower if i started as a kpop blog
11. how many people do you follow?
311
12. have you ever made a shitpost?
“To make utterly worthless and inane posts on an internet messageboard.“ then my whole blog is just shitposting
13. how often do you use tumblr each day?
ive spent so many hours on here the last few weeks. whenever i am bored i open tumblr. i try to use it less bcs i have a bit of an unhealthy relationship with tumblr.
14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?
i dont think so? but you never know with me
15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?
i have mixed feelings about it bcs everything seems to be so complicated nowadays and often theres no real wrong or right and also theres so much misinformation, you know?
16. do you like tag games?
i do! i love most of them. It is always a bit of micro interaction with other blogs which i wasnt used to before becoming a multi blog so it is new to me but i really enjoy it. 
17. do you like ask games?
omg yes I LOVE LOVE LOVE THEM. i always struggle to answer every single one but it makes me feel heard and kinda wanted here. i appreciate all the sweet ppl sending in asks. I also love when conversation start because of the ask games. 
18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?
i dont know any of my mutuals follower-count. there are several i would consider rather famous... maybe the one i would consider one of the biggest ones would be alex aka soft-pentagon Actually i would also consider most of my moots rather big. 
19. do you have a crush on a mutual?
not like crush-crush but i have a friend-crush on every 2nd of my moots but i dont wanna be annoying or anything so i usually try to not bother them too much. 
20. tags?
(ofc only if you want to) @kdongyoung @sangyus @minki-s @yejiswife @yootaeyanq @lovelykihyunie @lovehyunggus @shuaway @radlune @bethe-flower @xuseokgyu (feel free to ignore this if you dont want to do it. also hmu if you dont want to be tagged in stuff like this)
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warpspeedchic · 3 years
Text
liminal spaces - three
chapter one. chapter 2.
1627 words, read on ao3.
2013.
Stevie felt her phone buzz beneath her cheek. She hadn’t remembered falling asleep, but she had gotten ready for bed earlier than usual that day, hoping her brain would have reset by the time she woke up. Her phone buzzed again. The screen lit up with another text notification, blinding her in the darkness and letting her know that it was almost 4:40 in the morning. 
Squinting against the brightness, Stevie unlocked her phone. It opened up on her text thread with Matt. She had turned down his invite for their first night back in town, just like she had done with Nick’s invite earlier that same day. She had one unread message from him that he had sent after she had already fallen asleep, calling her an old lady for turning down the invite to the old dive bar for their first night in town. 
Then, another message came through; one from Alex, and instinctively Stevie tapped the notification, even though simply seeing his name pop up on her screen had made her insides turn to lead.
He wasn’t online, but since his last text had been from that very moment, it didn’t do much to quell the vague anxiety Stevie felt. The idea of a conversation with him, even through text, was, at that moment, oddly terrifying. That was new. 
What do you mean ‘new’? It’s a rerun, we’ve seen this episode before. She shoved the thought aside, it was normal for friends to… drift apart. She refocused her eyes.
You up? [3:30 AM]
Where are you? [3:54 AM]
I wanna see you [3:56AM]
Why no answer? [4:02AM]
Text me so I know you’re ok. [4:37AM]
Automatically, Stevie's fingers tapped out her response. It was habit for her, at this point, to reply "i'm okay" when someone asked.
i’m ok. [4:46AM]
The ellipses popped up, and Stevie, oddly numb to it all, she stared at the screen as he typed.
I’m outside. [4:47AM]
That hadn't been the response she was expecting. Frowning, she shuffled out of her bedroom to the front of her house. Squinting out her sitting room window, she saw no sign of Alexander on her front steps or the street. Glancing up and down the road, she actually saw no signs of anyone, which she was hardly surprised about, given that it was almost 5 in the morning.
no u aren't [4:50AM]
?????????? [4:51AM]
Stevie huffed, his message lighting up her phone as she stuck her feet into boots and threw on a coat. If she weren't so sleepy she would probably be angrier at him, for not bothering to text her when he was back in town, ignoring her for months, and making her act like a nanny, picking up his drunk arse. Regardless of whether she was or wasn't annoyed by him, that had nothing on the annoyance she felt for herself, because she had it so bad for him and she just couldn't help acting like a fool, could she?
Grumbling internally, Stevie stuck her phone in her coat pocket before heaving her front door open, sending a text to Nick to ask him where her idiot best friend had last been sighted.
---
Her half-jog slowed to a walk as she got to the end of a street of nice townhouses, when she finally spotted one Alex Turner. Yawning and rubbing her eyes, she took her phone out to snap a picture to send to his fellow band members, to assure them he wasn’t dead.
“Come on, get up, you prick,” Stevie grumbled half heartedly, nudging the slumped over figure who was sitting on the front steps of a house with a nice garden that certainly couldn’t have been hers. She nudged him again, harder this time, and with a little snort, he woke up.
“‘Ey,” Alex grinned sleepily, his eyes half-squinted. He was huddled up not unlike a homeless person, his arms resting on his knees. He was dressed weird, at least to Stevie. She knew this get-up was his “new thing”, the leather jacket and slicked back hair and all, but it was his fault that she hadn’t had much time to get used to looking at him like that.
“Hey, Al,” Stevie said, nudging him again, this time with the toe of her boot. “Come on, it’s like 5AM.”
“‘M sleepy,” Alex said, yawning and taking his sweet time getting to his feet.
“And what do you think I am?” Stevie rolled her eyes, looking down at her phone when it lit up with a reply from Matt, which also forced the fact that it was 5:05AM onto her. Scowling, she looked back at Alex, expecting to see him asleep again, but surprised to see him looking up at her, smiling vaguely. He looked good. He always did, but privately, Stevie loved how he looked when he was sleepy, something about it made him look young and boyish. This wasn’t the worst way to be introduced to Alex Turner: Greaser Edition; sleepy, cheeks pink from alcohol and cold.
“Get up, please,” Stevie said, offering him a hand. She was tired, and cold, and did not want to have to be conscious while she was wishing she loved him like a friend more than she loved him like anything else. After a beat, he took her hand, getting to his feet. His hand was somehow warm, like it always was, even though he had been sitting on that step for longer than Stevie had been out looking for him.
Sighing, they began walking back towards her place, Alex trailing almost like a puppy, Stevie leading, weary and sleepy and heavy hearted.
“‘Ve missed you,” Alex said after a moment of walking in silence.
“Yeah, missed you too, Al.” Stevie replied, not looking up. Focus on getting home, going to sleep.
“...Are you mad at me?” Alex asked, and she could hear the frown in his voice. He sounded hurt, and she didn’t have the energy to get annoyed by that.
“I’m not mad at you,” Stevie said. Maybe she was lying a little. Alex stayed quiet then, and she gave his hand a squeeze out of habit. “Promise.”
“Okay,” Alex said, sounding happier. “Y’know… I thought- Been thinkin’ about you all night.”
“Yeah?” Stevie said, almost laughing, though immediately she wished she hadn’t. She didn’t want to hear it.
“Yeah… Saw you snoggin’ some bloke at the bar… and- saw you on a motorbike… and in a taxi… Wasn’t you, was it, love?”
“Unless I’ve been sleepwalking, I’m quite sure it wasn’t.” Stevie chuckled a bit. “You’re just drunk off your arse, is all.”
Alex hummed and squeezed her hand again, and they continued walking.
---
Stevie remained patient but mildly exasperated the entire time she helped Al up the stairs to her front door. When he had just about made it up the last few steps, she turned to unlock her door, confident that he wasn’t about to topple backwards down her stairs again.
Out of nowhere, Alex hugged her, and Stevie jumped at the sudden contact. He was warm, though, and he smelt like ale and something that was probably hair product, but he also smelt like himself. He sighed contentedly and rested his cheek on her neck as Stevie fumbled with her keys and got her door unlocked.
“You’re warm,” Alex said, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her towards him and almost making her fall backwards. His cheek was pressed onto her neck, which was flushing like her face was, and his hair was tickling her ear. “You smell nice…”
“I want to go to bed, Al,” Stevie said quietly, pushing his arms off her waist and pulling him into her flat. She shut the door, and bit the inside of her cheek when she turned and they locked eyes. He was looking at her like she had been giving a speech, like he was hanging on to her every word, waiting intently for what she was about to do or say next.
“Come on.” Stevie took his hand and led him to her bedroom, her sheets thrown aside where she had left them. She took off her coat and kicked off her shoes, before going to her dresser to pull out some shorts and a different t-shirt. She changed shirts before dropping down on the bed, too tired to stand while rolling off her leggings from her cold legs. She threw her leggings aside; Alex was still getting out of his jeans, just managing to undo his belt. 
Stevie went to her kitchen to get him a glass of water and when she was back, he wasn’t in the bedroom. Figuring he was in the bathroom, she left the water on her nightstand and unplugged her phone charger to use in the sitting room. She took one of her pillows off her bed and collapsed on her sofa, leaving her phone on the ground where her hand grazed the floor.
She had almost immediately fallen asleep, willing herself into not thinking any thoughts, when she heard Alex mumble her name. She held her breath, the knot in her chest tightening, trying to ignore him.
After a moment of silence that Stevie thought was Alex returning to her bedroom, she was almost fully asleep, and surprised when she felt him pick her up and put her in bed. He crawled in next to her, lifting her head gently to place her pillow under, brushing her hair out of her face. Weak-willed and half-asleep, Stevie put her arm out and found him. Her head was on his chest and he smelled like himself. He wrapped his arms around her, and she fell asleep.
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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years
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Christmas with the Waverleys ❄️: Part I
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A/N: Hi, how is everyone doing💫💛? So I really wanted to do something for the Holidays and this is what I came up with. Writing this was a really joyful process, so I really hope that this brings a smile on your face💛 
If you enjoyed the story, please like, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going 💕
Thank you so very much @caseyvalentineramsey for prereading and @jamespotterthefirst for prereading and helping me up with the editing. You guys are life-savers and I love you💛💛
Characters: For this part, the characters are my OH MC(Dr. Pooja Sharma) and OH F!OC (Dr. Alexandra Walton)
Word Count: 1467
Rating: General
Prompts :-
CFWC(@choicesficwriterscreations) Winter Season Prompt #6: Character A doesn’t like the holidays. B loves it. Will B try to find out why or convince A to celebrate it?
@wackydrabbles #74 (Will appear in bold): What do you want me to say?
@choicesdecemberchallenge​ Day 23: Friendship
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December 23rd
The riffling of sheets, concomitant typing on the keyboard and the gentle tapping of a blue ballpoint pen.
Aha! Here it is!
The dainty curling up of her lips purported that her quest had been prosperous.
The young girl let down her brunette hair as the muffled voices of Boston's December traffic infiltrating the quiet beige Living room subserved as a token of the celebratory season.
With balmy footfalls, she went to the bay windows of her residence, moving the white satin draperies and looked down to the provocative streets.
Festivals. Gaieties. They were not her thing.
For her, they were needless gatherings, wastage of capital and time.
Christmas, New Year, never held much of a significance in her life.
No matter how much she relished seeing all the people fortified with holiday disposition, she never aspired to be one of them.
Engrossed in thoughts, she nearly plummeted at the unforeseen chime of the doorbell.
A deep breath.
Another one.
And another.
And the abrupt adrenaline rush faded past as she reacquired her equanimity.
An agile glance at the wooden digital timekeeper on the davenport told her that it was 10:30 in the morning.
Mmm-hmm.
An unlikely time for someone to visit.
Must be some parcel posts.
Moving to the door, she clemently swivelled the knob and-
"LEX!"
"Poo?"
Alex was comprehensively purblind as to why Pooja would have come here at 10:30 am, groomed as if she was the anthropomorphism of celebratory spirit.
Not acknowledging her interrogating glimpses, Pooja went inside. Alex accompanied.
And then, Pooja's eyes fell on the vademecum and jotter sitting on the settee.
Hmmm, so they are my rivals.
"Poo? What's the matter? Has something goofed?"
Alex still had no ounce of idea about all that was transpiring.
"IS SOMETHING WRONG? Lex, EVERYTHING IS WRONG!"
Pooja roared as she denoted towards the current occupants of the couch.
"What is wrong with my manual?"
"Lex, ITS CHRISTMASTIDE! You, sitting here and swotting is Inequity!"
"Poo-"
Pooja held up a hand to prevent her from proceeding further. She knew unequivocally what Lex was going to utter. That she shunned celebrations. All this was a waste and the record of criticisms moving on & on.
She had endured her overtures the prevenient time.
But this time? This time, circumstances would change. Alexandra Walton would be carousing Christmas, no matter how absurd it appeared.
"Lex. I understand, okay. I know you loathe fiestas. But-"
"Now don't begin convincing me and convert to a walking, talking book of 101 reasons to savour festivities."
Nah.
This wasn't going to work. Even if she convinced her, she knew better that she would not heed in.
So, what to do now? Hmmm…
Pooja's mind went back to the discussion she had the previous night.
"Are you kidding me?"
"Of course not! Look!"
The Portrayal of Numerous ocular evidence of the case were placed in front of her.
"So, you're stating that she is here, in Boston and that all this is gonna work?"
"Exactly! Believe me, Poo, you will not regret it. Just give it a try!"
This was the only alternative. She ought to do it. It seems implausible, but the stuff she saw with her optics, felt versus her skin, couldn't be a deceit, could it?
"I need a promise."
"Promise? Wow! What a marvellous way of pressuring me into all this."
Alex substantially scoffed. Pooja lightly smacked her forehead.
"Why did you do it?"
Alex produced a perfect faux crybaby face as she tended to her point of the hit.
"You killed my Lil Lil forehead cells!"
Pooja scarcely restrained her chuckle as she set up the stern big-sister facade,
"Just shut up and listen first. I demand you to promise me that you will go with me somewhere on Christmas Eve."
"On a voyage?"
"No, bimbo! To meet someone."
A pouty face followed. But Pooja's glare was enough to make her regress and concede.
"Fine, Promise. But don't you dare pull me to a holiday funfair. Remember, I can bite."
Alex responded as she unveiled her teeth.
"You won't have to stoop that low" Pooja affirmed while stifling a hearty guffaw.
December 24th
"Are you going to tell me where you are taking me?" Vexation grazed Alex's features.
But her irritation was Pooja's gold. It was one of her reactions which made her laugh hysterically.
"If I die, I will spook you until I am served with 12 boxes of extravagant Walter's White and Pink Chocolate because you are making me do THIS." Alex pointed at the two of them.
"Which, I should make it clear, you won't get. 'Cause you won't die. Also, If means?"
"No, like I mean, subsequently we all will die, but before that, we will become top tier doctors, make millions, eat chocolates."
"We will get husbands" Pooja added to the list.
"They will die"
This earned Alex a scowl from her best friend.
"Then we would be sitting in our opulent houses and would be promoting golden dentures on our Pictogram."
"Yes! Yes! Yes!"
"And then we will die. We will be in heaven and do the Hippity-Hop dance with our already-in-heaven husbands", And the two of them laughed like crazy. Passers-by gave them side glances, most of them presuming they both had gone mad, but the two couldn't bother less.
After a little while, they reached in front of a modest house. Entering through the small copper-coloured gate, they peered around.
It posed an explicit opposition to the modern peculiarities of Boston. The place was serene. The garden surrounding the humble stone-exterior dwelling was immaculate and well-kept. The two of them went towards the white gate and pressed the doorbell.
Seconds later, an elderly lady opened the door.
"Hi, I am Pooja. And this is Alexandra" She introduced the two of them.
"Of course, please get in sweetheart. I have been expecting you." The lady gave a friendly smile and motioned the two of them to come in.
While entering, Alex tugged at Pooja's sleeve, dragging her back.
Keeping her voice as faint as plausible, she spoke, "Why did you bring me here? To discover how to make gingerbread?"
Pooja almost let out a tee-hee and gave her a warning look.
"What do you want me to say? You dragged me out of my cozy blanket and summery dreams to learn how to make gingerbread!"
Lightly hitting Alex's forehead, she jokingly admonished "Shut up Lex! Just wait and watch."
And then they followed the lady to a dim room.
In the core of the room, stood a circle table, encompassing which, three obsolescent chairs were orderly arranged.
Several aromatic candles blazed the shadowy nooks. Various shelves positioned on the walls with articles they couldn't recognize due to the gloom.
They were motioned to take a seat on the chairs.
"So, Miss Pooja! I am so overwhelmed to have you and your friend with me! I am very certain, that the forthcoming journey will be a once in a lifetime venture." The lady's grin revealed two blank spaces in her teeth.
"You have planned everything for us?" Even though they had talked beforehand, Pooja still felt a bit dubious. What is something went awry?
No. 
She halted the train of thought. What ifs are endless. Trust yourself, everything that happens will be for the best.
"Yes, dear. Your request was the loveliest. And I have planned to make everything accurate, just the way you want."
At her words, the tension heaving down on Pooja dissipated.
"Now, both of you lay your hands on the table and relax. Don't ask any questions, Don't have any concerns. Just follow my statements and repeat the words I chant after me."
They both followed. Relaxing, for Alex, was hard, but for her twisted sister, she tried her best and finally calmed down.
The lady began. "Relax. All the arrangements are made. I am sending both of you to the Braidwood Manor, where the Waverleys live. You both are getting a chance to experience Christmas as it was celebrated nearly a century and a half ago. You both will reach London in the 1880s. Take a deep breath"
It felt like someone had cast a spell on them. They both followed all the words, all the instructions wordlessly. As said, they took a deep breath.
"Very Good! Now repeat the words after me. Try to remember them. I am sending you both in the past for a day but in case you wanna come back earlier, you will need them"
Then the lady tapped her purple-painted fingernail four times on the table and began, "Zahiri Washiki Ra, Zahiri Washiki Ma, MaRa LaYa Ma."
Both of them repeated. The gloomy room echoed with the words.
ZAHIRI WASHIKI RA, ZAHIRI WASHIKI MA, MARA LAYA MA!
PS: That's all for Christmas with the Waverleys Part 1🧡! Part 2 will be up tomorrow.
If you reached till here, please know that I am truly grateful for you🌟 I wish you nothing but happiness and smiles for the Holidays and the coming year❤
Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead🧡🧡
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sparrow-flies-south · 4 years
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Ten Things [2]
Fandom: Sanders Sides Pairings: Anxceit, Royality Intrulogical Summary: Ten Things I Hate About You AU When Roman Prince learns that Patton Foster isn’t allowed to date until his older brother, Virgil, is, Roman is crushed. Roman’s twin brother Remus, however, comes up with a plan: find someone who is willing to date Virgil. And who better to ask than Janus Verona, who according to rumours is willing to do anything for the right price? Taglist (ask to be added!): @someone-idk-is-here
Notes: Been awhile, so have an extra long chapter to make up for it! I want to switch to updating every Saturday now this is my main project.  I've switched to using Janus instead of Dee, so I edited the first chapter and summary to reflect that. There's no other differences to the first chapter. Also *pokes tags* there's intrulogical in this now.
AO3 Link - Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six
Roman cleared his throat and looked over the ragtag group of students he’d gathered before him.
Luc Edwards, Scott Brown, Tyler Ellis, Pete Campbell and Alex Swift. Three of Virgil’s friends, and two boys Roman knew sat next to Virgil in class. He and Remus had spent all of Monday spying, making notes of who Virgil spoke to, who he sat by, who he ate lunch with. After much debating, and a fair dose of stalking on social media, the two had come up with a shortlist.
That morning, he and Remus had both ended up late to their first class because they’d been delivering notes to each of the five, telling them to meet in one of the maths classrooms that Roman knew would be empty at this time.
“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I brought you here today,” Roman began.
“Who are you?” Alex Swift, a gangly boy with greasy hair and acne covering his face asked.
“That not important,” Roman dismissed. “What is important is that one of you is going to take Virgil Foster out on a date.”
“Who?” asked Tyler Ellis, who Roman knew ate lunch with Virgil every day.
“That weird emo kid,” Scott Brown answered.
“Why do you want one us to date Virgil?” Alex asked.
“As a part of a scheme to allow me to date his brother,” Roman replied. “But that’s not important.”
“Question,” said Luc Edwards, who, unlike the others, was perched on a table. “What’s in it for us?”
“Uh, the joy of Virgil’s company?”
Luc snorted. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same guy?”
Okay, Roman was beginning to hate everyone in the room. Weren’t they supposed to be Virgil’s friends?
“Quite sure,” he said through gritted teeth.
Luc shook his head. “He’s a freak. He never even speaks.”
“I heard him speak once,” Pete said timidly. “He asked how often the school tested the fire alarms.”
“Probably planning on burning the place down,” Scott muttered.
Roman stared at him. He knew that outsiders judged his friendships for the friendly insults he handed out like candy, but even he had limits, and talking about someone like that behind their back broke all of them. He was beginning to get the urge to defend Virgil’s honour.
“Do any of you actually like him?” Roman asked.
“He doesn’t speak,” Luc repeated. “We let him hang around with us because he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. Honestly, it’s kinda pathetic.”
Roman looked from person to person. None of them met their eyes.
Luc sighed. “Look, good luck with your search, but honestly? Don’t get your hope up.”
With that, Luc jumped down from the table and left the room. Roman looked at the four remaining boys, but his hope was dying. Luc had seemed to be the unofficial leader of Virgil’s group, commanding their attention. He’d been Roman’s favourite, though Remus had disagreed.
The other boys exchanged glances. For a moment, no one spoke.
“Sorry,” Pete said at last, “But he’s not my type.”
“He’s a loser.”
“Forget it.”
“I still don’t know who that is.”
One boy one, the boys left the classroom, until Roman was alone. He groaned, and thudded his head against the wall. So much for that idea. So much for Virgil’s shitty friends.
He sighed, and then went to find Remus.
 ***
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Logan said.
The two of them were sat at their favourite table in the library, hidden away among the stacks. In front of them was their homework, which Patton was currently face down on, bemoaning his current romantic status.
It had been the fifth time they’d had that conversation since Friday. Logan had kept track.
“Maybe,” Patton mumbled into the desk, which was an improvement on the last four conversations, when he hadn’t been willing to listen.
“It will give you more time to study,” Logan pointed out.
Patton lifted his head and pulled a face. “Okay, I get it.” He sat up fully and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I hate French.”
“Just be glad you didn’t take Spanish,” Logan said, drily.
Mischief suddenly danced in Patton’s eyes. “Oh? Why’s that, Lo?”
“Because-“ Logan stopped himself. “No. You are not going to distract me like that.”
“Like what?” asked a new voice, and Remus Prince slid into the third seat at the table.
Patton and Logan exchanged glances, and then looked back at Remus, who looked as if sitting with them was the most normal thing in the world, even though they’d never had a conversation together.
They knew who Remus was, of course, even outside of Patton’s crush on his brother. Everyone knew who Remus was. It had taken him less than a year at Padua High to reach a level of infamy most students could only aspire to. Patton still shuddered every time he saw a duck.
Remus looked between them. “Are you guys having a stroke?”
“No,” Logan said. “We’re merely… surprised you chose to sit with us.”
Remus shrugged. “Gotta keep an eye on who my brother’s dating,” he said, and grinned at Patton like a shark.
Patton swallowed. “Roman and I aren’t dating.”
“Right,” Remus said, and then muttered something that sounded like ‘yet’. “So,” he added cheerfully. “What are we talking about?”
“Spanish,” Patton said sweetly.
Logan glared at him. “No, we’re-.”
“Ugh,” Remus threw his head back. “Spanish is the worst. Mrs Richards has no idea what she’s talking about.”
“Yes,” Logan agreed. “And her pronunciation-,”
“It’s awful!” Remus finished. “Like, has she ever seen a native speaker?”
Logan nodded, and then narrowed his eyes. “How would you know? Don’t you sleep through most Spanish classes?”
“Yeah, but it creeps into my dreams and gives me nightmares.”
“No, I mean- how do you how bad she is if you don’t pay attention to what she’s teaching.”
Remus looked at him like he was stupid. It was not a look Logan got very often. “I… speak Spanish?”
“You do?” Logan asked.
“Uh, yeah,” Remus said. “I grew up speaking it. You guys didn’t know that?”
“We don’t exactly know you,” Patton pointed out. “And you are taking it as a class.”
“Yeah, because it’s an easy A.”
“Of course,” Logan muttered.
Patton gasped and clapped his hands together, making the other two jump. He glanced around guiltily at the noise, but there was no one nearby to get annoyed.
“Remus, you speak Spanish!” Patton exclaimed.
“That’s… what we were just talking about?” Remus said.
Patton turned to Logan. “Remus can tutor you!”
“What?” Logan and Remus asked at the same time.
“Well, you’re always talking about how you wish you had someone to practise with! Here’s your chance.”
Logan and Remus looked at each other uncertainly.
“I don’t think Remus wants to do that,” Logan said.
“You don’t know what I want,” Remus protested.
Logan narrowed his eyes. Remus gave his biggest shit-eating grin.
“I wouldn’t want to presume-,”
“It’s not presuming if you just ask me.”
“I don’t have the money for a tutor.”
“I’ll do it out of the goodness of my heart!”
Logan and Remus stared at each other. Remus’s smile took on a slightly sinister nature.
“Unless,” Remus said, “There’s some reason you don’t want me to tutor you.”
It was a challenge and a game all wrapped into one. Remus was watching Logan carefully, waiting to see what he’d do, if he’d admit to not liking Remus or come up with an excuse.
Logan had never backed down from a challenge. Not when he was eleven, and his teacher had given him advanced work and not bothered to explain it because ‘other people need my time more’, which Logan had taken home and researched until he understood. Not when he was fourteen, and his teacher had asked if he’d like to teach the class instead, and Logan had snapped back ‘I’d probably do a better job than you’. Not when he was fifteen and the history teacher had dismissed his comments with ‘you don’t know more than the textbook’, so Logan had compiled a ten page list of sources that showed the textbook was wrong.
He certainly wasn’t going to back down when Remus Prince was staring at him with those infuriating brown eyes.
So he changed the game.
“In that case,” Logan said, forcing his face into a smile, “I accept your offer.”
Remus gaped at Logan, and Logan raised an eyebrow.
“Unless there’s some reason you don’t want to tutor me?”
Remus burst into laughter. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
Patton, whose eyes had darted back and forth between them like a spectator at a tennis match, now smiled as if everything was fine. Remus suspected that Patton hadn’t understood what was happening. Logan knew better.
“What the hell are you doing in the library?” someone called, and the trio turned around.
Roman stood there with his arms crossed, looking exasperated at Remus. It was a common look on Roman’s face.
Remus raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, am I not allowed to be a good student?”
“Not when it means I have to search the entire school looking for you!”
Patton cleared his throat. “Is… everything okay?”
Roman jerked when he noticed Patton sitting there. “Ah, Patton! Yes, everything’s fine, I just need to borrow my brother here.”
“Smooth,” Remus commented.
Roman’s only response was to grab Remus by the arm and pull him out of the chair.
“Ow! Hey! Okay, okay, I’m going. See you later, Nerdy Wolverine!”
The librarian glared at Roman dragged Remus past her desk. Roman gave an apologetic look. Remus grinned and blew a kiss.
“You’re not very subtle,” Remus pointed out when they were standing in the corridor outside.
“Shut up,” Roman snapped.
“Ooh, grumpy! So how did the meeting go?”
Remus began walking through the halls and Roman did too.
“How do you think?”
“I think Operation: Get Virgil Foster Laid has hit a wall.”
Roman rubbed a hand over his face. “We are not calling it that.”
“But fear not!” Remus continued. “I have a solution.”
Roman narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What solution?”
“I’m so glad you asked! See, there was one big flaw with your plan-,”
“It was your plan!”
“-And that’s that you lacked incentive! No one’s going to do things for the goodness of their hearts!”
“So what do you suggest?” Roman asked.
“Use money! What else are you going to do with it- use it to pay for dates?”
“Okay,” Roman said. “Let me get this straight-,”
“Hah!”
“-You want me to pay someone to date Virgil Foster.”
“Not just anyone! It’s all about finding the right person.”
They had reached the cafeteria now. Remus pulled open the door with a flourish.
“Fortunately, I know exactly who that person is.”
Roman followed Remus’s gesture to a table near the back of the cafeteria, where a boy was sat wearing a black leather jacket over a yellow shirt. A hat hid most of his face, but Roman could just about make out a large burn scar from underneath his left eye to his jaw.
He sat alone, attention on the book in front of him. The crowd at the tables near him seemed electrified. Everyone was aware of his presence, but no one dared look over.
Roman shook his head. “Isn’t that Janus Verona?”
When Roman and Remus had first joined the story, Janus had become an urban legend in his absence. The boy with the strange name and scar on his face, which should have made him the perfect target for bullies, but instead he became something else. Everyone had a friend who’s sibling or cousin had messed with him, or who he just hadn’t liked, and had their lives ruined for it.
If you wanted dirt on someone, he probably already had it. If you wanted a fake ID, or alcohol, or tickets to a sold out concert, he could get it for you. He’d do anything you asked, if you had the money.
He hadn’t shown up what should have been his senior year because he was in prison for murder. Because he’d quit school and joined the mob. He was in prison, but it was extortion, not murder. The murder part was true, but he’d fled the country because of it.
Roman had wondered whether he’d even existed in the first place.
And then Janus had come back, and started his senior year one year late.
Janus had become ten times more powerful through not being there, and the school had its resident bogeyman back. Roman had seen him a handful of times in the halls, and had always kept his head down and stayed away.
Whatever the rumour were, Janus Verona was clearly trouble.
“It’s perfect,” Remus said, cutting off Roman’s thoughts. “We pay him, he takes Virgil out, you and Patton get to be together and I don’t have to listen to your whining.”
“It’s Janus Verona,” Roman hissed, because clearly Remus was not getting how insane that was.
“I know,” Remus said, starry eyed. “Isn’t he great?”
Roman did manage to resist the urge to scream, but it was a near thing.
“Look,” Remus said. “We tried it your way. It went down like the Hindenburg.”
“That doesn’t mean we should resort to hiring a criminal!”
“Got any better ideas? I’m all ears.”
Roman opened his mouth, then shut it again. He glared at Remus.
“Great!” Remus said, and dragged Roman over to Janus’s table.
Janus did not look up from his book as the two of them approached. They stood at in front of the table. Janus still didn’t look up. Roman glanced at Remus, who shrugged. He cleared his throat.
“Roman and Remus Prince,” Janus said, his eyes still on the book. “Why ever would two model citizens like you come to someone like me?”
Remus took this as an invitation to pull out a chair and throw himself into it. “I just want to say, I’m a big fan of your work.”
That was enough to get Janus to look up from his book. He had the same confused and mildly horrified look most people got upon meeting Remus. “…Thank you?”
Roman sat down. “Ignore my brother, he’s morally deficient.” Remus kicked him under the table. “We want to hire you.”
Janus hummed. “I charge extra if you want it to look like an accident.”
“What?” Roman exclaimed. “No! We don’t- are you offering to kill someone!?”
Janus met his eyes and raised an eyebrow for a moment, the most terrifying one of Roman’s life. Then he threw his head back with loud, cackling peals of laughter. Remus beamed.
“Oh,” Roman said, laughing nervously. “You were joking. You- you are joking, right?”
“Certainly,” Janus said. “You wouldn’t be able to afford my fee.”
“This is the greatest day of my life,” Remus whispered.
“So.” Janus leaned back in his chair, “What can I do for you? Don’t bother getting all embarrassed, I promise, I’ve heard it all before.”
Roman glanced at Remus, who nodded. “We’d like to hire you to date Virgil Foster,” he said.
“Okay,” Janus said after a moment’s silence. “I haven’t heard it all before. You do realise I’m not an escort, don’t you?”
“I don’t want you to have sex with him,” Roman cried, then ducked his head, blushing, when he realised everyone had probably heard that. “I just- look, I want to date Patton Foster, okay?”
“Whatever you’re about to tell me, I assure you I don’t care,” Janus drawled.
“So I asked Patton out, and he was like, ‘I’ll have to ask my dad’, but then his dad was like ‘not unless Virgil dates’, which apparently is impossible. So Remus and I came up with an idea-,”
“I came up with it,” Remus interrupted.
“So Remus came up with, and I improved upon, an idea: we find someone to date Virgil.”
“And how did that go?” Janus asked, looking mildly interested despite himself.
“Terrible,” Remus chimed in. “So we figured we’d ask you.”
Janus tilted his head, considering. “Alright,” he said at last.
“Seriously?”
Janus smiled, and spread his gloved handswide. “Who am I to get in the way of true love?”
“Well, great.” Roman was suddenly transported to a reality where Remus’s plans worked. It was not a pleasant experience. “Uh, so how’s ten dollars sound?”
Janus gasped, and placed a hand on his heart. “Roman. Are you suggested that I take a fine young man like Virgil on a date that’s worth ten dollars?”
Roman gritted his teeth. “Well, what do you want?”
“Well, let’s see,” Janus mused. “Say we go to the cinema. The tickets cost, what, fifteen dollars? And then, of course, I’ll be buying him popcorn. And then there’s the price of gas…”
“How much?”
Janus smiled. “Let’s say $75.”
Roman balked. “No way.”
Janus shrugged. “All right then. Plenty of fish in the sea, after all.”
He turned his attention back to his book, though Roman got the sense he was still watching them.
“Roman,” Remus hissed.
Roman glared. “I can’t afford seventy five dollars a date.”
“It only needs to be a couple of times,” Remus pointed out.
Roman groaned. “Fine,” he spat, and Janus looked up from his book and smiled. “But I don’t pay you until after the date.”
“Half up front, half after,” Janus said. “Otherwise there’s no deal.”
Roman considered. He didn’t seem to have much of a choice. “I’ll pay the first half once Virgil agrees to it.”
Janus nodded. “Deal.” He reached out a hand, and Roman shook it. “A pleasure doing business with you, Mr Prince. Now, if you excuse me, it appears I have a boy to seduce.”
Janus pushed away from the table, picked up his book – Kant, something he’d read before but which gave him the opportunity to watch the cafeteria without anyone noticing - and swept out of the room.
People scurried out of his way as he walked through the hallways, but their whispers and dirty looks trailed after him. He was not well liked in this school, and he knew it – had known for a long time that he would never be liked, and so he had become something else.
Janus Verona did not need to be liked to be powerful.
He arrived at his destination- a corridor that contained only a set of toilets, a supply closet, and a side door that led to a set of steps down to the parking lot, hidden behind rows of cars. For years, it had made the best spot for smoking without getting caught.
Virgil Foster did not smoke, but he did hang around with people who did.
Janus leaned against the wall of the corridor and opened his book again, pretending to read but really watching Virgil through the window in the door. He was sat on the top step with his head phones on, but he was watching the other boys, even though presumably he couldn’t hear the conversation. At the bottom of the steps Luc Edwards stood, waving his eyes as he spoke. The other boys alternated between listening to him and paying him no attention.
The group was a scattering of losers and outcasts, the kind that banded together not through any shared friendship, or even through liking each other. They were there because there was safety in numbers and nowhere else to go.
In another life, Janus might have been one of them, keeping his head turned away so no one saw his scar.
In this life, the bell rang, and the group outside got up, and started heading to class. Most of them barely glanced at Janus as they passed, safe in being too low in the hierarchy to be bothered. Luc Edwards shoulder checked him as he walked past.  
Janus narrowed his eyes at Luc, but before he could do anything, Virgil came inside, his head down, hood pulled up. Janus pushed off the wall, and fell into step with him. Virgil glanced over at the movement in the corner of his eye, then did a double take when he realised who was next to him.
“What?” Virgil asked gruffly, pushing one headphone away from his ear.
“Janus Verona,” he introduced, holding out one hand. Virgil looked at it suspiciously, but didn’t say anything.
“We have English together,” Janus explained. “Why not walk together?”
Virgil shook his head. “Why are you talking to me?”
“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t?” Janus asked.
“I can think of a few,” Virgil snapped, and sped up.
Truly, it was shocking that Roman and Remus had been so unsuccessful.
Virgil was already in his seat by the time Janus entered the classroom. He didn’t look up as Janus sat down, didn’t even glance in his direction, which meant he was putting in the effort to seem as uninviting as possible.
The teacher- Mr Williams- began his lesson as the last stragglers had taken their seats, introducing the Shakespeare module they were about to begin and handing out copies of The Taming of The Shrew. Janus payed attention only enough to know what was happening. Nothing interesting would be in this lesson, and he wanted a chance to review what he already knew about Virgil.
He’d never had much to do with Virgil, before. Virgil had been in the year below, and even if their paths had crossed, Janus had never had much reason to pay attention to the emo boy at the back of the class.
He knew that Virgil had a younger brother, Patton, and that their parents were divorced. He knew that, if Luc Edwards was anything to go by, he had terrible taste in friends.
He was also, Janus noticed when he snuck glances at Virgil, not bad looking.
“Before we get started,” Mr Williams said, “Why doesn’t everyone share their thoughts on Shakespeare’s works?”
Janus rolled his eyes at the pointless attempt to make the lesson interactive.
Mr Williams made a show of scanning the class. “Virgil Foster,” he said, announcing both names as if there was another Virgil in the school, let alone the class. “What are your thoughts?”
And that was one other thing Janus knew about Virgil: Mr Williams hated him.
Janus didn’t know whether Mr Williams had convinced himself that he was helping to bring a shy boy out of his shell, or if he admitted that he just wanted to torment someone and went for the weakest option. Janus hoped it was the latter, because it would take a lot of denial to believe that calling on him every lesson was a good thing. Either Virgil would stammer out an answer, face pale and voice shaky, or he would say nothing, and Mr Williams would tell him to pay more attention and threaten him with detention.
It made Janus’s fists clench, that a man would go through such efforts to feel like he had power over someone he already had power over.
Still, it gave Janus a chance to look at Virgil, shoulders hunched and head down.
“He’s fine,” Virgil muttered.
“Fine?” Mr Williams echoed. “William Shakespeare, the greatest poet in the English language, is fine.” A smattering of giggles, not because Mr Williams was right, but because there was someone for the class to laugh at. Virgil’s shoulders tightened. “I’m sure you can come up with something better than that.”
Virgil said nothing.
Mr Williams sighed dramatically. “We don’t have all day,” he said. “Really, you must have some original thoughts in that head.”
Virgil lifted his head, glaring fire at the teacher. “I think people should stop putting him on a pedestal,” he said. His voice was shaking but the foundation was steel. “I think there are a lot of aspects of his works that people don’t talk about.”
“Care to give an example?” Mr Williams asked.
Virgil tapped the book in front of him. “Guy abuses his wife for the whole play and he’s supposed to be the hero?”
Mr Williams hummed. “Thank you for your feedback, Virgil. I’m sure Shakespeare would be devastated to know you don’t approve of the play he wrote in the sixteenth century.”
Laughter from the class. Virgil flushed and ducked his head, shoulders tense, fists clenched.
It was obvious Virgil hated Mr Williams, but he had never done anything about it before. Somehow, the boy in the back of the class had managed to surprise Janus Verona.
Virgil stayed with his head down until the bell rang, when he was the first to dash out of the classroom, stuffing his books back into his bag as he went. Janus didn’t bother trying to catch up.
He sent a text to Roman as he walked through the halls, asking for more information on Virgil. The first response came back almost instantly, asking how Janus had his number. He ignored it, and pulled up Google while he waited for Roman to get back with something useful. Excitement rushed through him as he typed, the kind that always came in these early stages of a plan.
Virgil was more than he seemed, which meant that this was going to be interesting.
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thekidultlife · 4 years
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The Most Convenient Escape | Jihoon Soulmate!AU (3)
⍟ Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader
⍟ AU: Fantasy/ Soulmate AU
⍟ Genre: ANGST, SLOW BURN, fluff
⍟ Warnings: mentions of abuse, drinking, and sex
⍟ Word Count: 5.3k
⍟ Synopsis: For all your life, you have a deep disdain towards Soulmate Bonds, so much so that you are able to write opinions about it in a local newspaper. However, as life would have it, you wake up one day bonded to a person you hardly knew. Throwing in an investigation, annoying roommates, and a revolution looming just beneath the surface, you had to seek for the most convenient escape.
CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 |  CHAP 5 |  CHAP 6 |
ON THE NECESSITY OF GRAND ROYAL BALLS by Alex Fireflower
The Porta Persa Edition, September 6
In one's life, what would be considered basic necessities? Food, shelter, clothing, mayhaps a life partner? Indeed, such factors are important. Yet allow me to tell you, dear readers, that there is something far greater and more magnificent than mere daily needs which regularly perish in less than a common laborer's working hours! An element which elevates the typical human experience to the realms of the ancient gods; giving us a glimpse of the most beautiful, the most majestic blinding auras in this Universe! A necessity which is by far the most crucial of all inventions created by man, known to man! 
That, my friends, is the Grand Royal Ball. 
To be held a week from now at the Crystal Palace, the Grand Royal Ball only admits through invites, usually reserved for the rich and the powerful. Yet what is most anticipated is the glamorous First Waltz where they can showcase their magnificent beauty and impressive wardrobe for the public to see! 
Yet this is simply a mere gathering for the upper class, you say? What, in heaven's name, is the reason why this event is of great importance, you ask?
Look closely, my dear readers! Look at the Grand Royal Ball! Look at it with eyes of impunity! Gaze at its splendor and radiance, and see what these people have robbed from you, from the common people! They who have been brought into this world with silver spoons in their mouths, feed us with scraps from their abundant golden banquets! Banquets such as the Grand Royal Ball, where crimes of extravagance and greed go unpunished in the eyes of god.
Do not forget who mines the diamonds in their earrings, who weaves the silk on their lapels, who farms the fruit in their white marble tables! They who afforded nay a drop of sweat in order to survive, yet admonishes the poor for 'indolence' and 'degradation of moral values'--remember them and do not dare forget in the face of their magnificence! 
If these sheer words do not convey a clearer message to you, then allow me to reiterate. The Grand Royal Ball is an important reminder to you common folk who gaze at them in your grease-stained hands, growling stomachs and exhausted eyes. This is a wake up call to you who still believe that you can be like them, wearing your own beautiful gowns and respectable suits to your own grand royal balls. This is a reminder to look past illusions established by this society dictated by such people. 
You are being exploited. You are being paid by less than what you are worth. If that does not constitute slavery, then there is no worth in reading this article. If you are yet to be angered by such realities through this piece, then I, as an editor have failed my mission. Realize that your fellow laborer is not your adversary. The true cold-blooded monsters are up there in their hectares-wide plantations, sitting on leather chairs and pretending to be your friend, as they casually strategize how to pay you less and less of your appropriate wage, as they search for loopholes in our civil code to perpetuate their evils in the world.
They may look like gods next week, dancing to a waltz in the Crystal Palace with the innocence of a daisy, yet do not be in awe. Do not be complacent.
Do not forget the true enemy. 
"You're going to the ball."
Both Wonwoo and Soonyoung declared, under the purple shade of the wisteria tree in the courtyard, their seriousness catching you off-guard.
"What?!" You shouted, almost choking on a shrimp. "What do you mean I'm going to the ball?! I just slandered it in our newspaper yesterday, if you hadn't forgotten!"
The two boys gazed at you, eyes pitiful. 
"Don't look at me like that!" 
Wonwoo, the bespectacled one, sighed and sat up straight. 
"Look, this isn't a prank. We had to bargain you for um…"
In the middle of his words he gradually lost steam, and began to feel your furious, scrutinizing gaze. For better or worse, he suddenly found the garlic shrimp on his plate quite interesting. 
"Alright, let me handle this!" Soonyoung proudly declared, yet nonetheless deflated after you gave him a similar glare. "Wonwoo...you should handle this after all…"
With a face that may seem calm, Wonwoo conveniently concealed his discomfort. 
"So, um...alright, allow me to explain. I got a bit of a lead on the investigation we're doing and thus, following that trail led me to the ball," he continued, "Apparently, there will be a gathering of the people involved during the evening, and I needed to get in with Soonyoung. So I asked some help, and in exchange, they wanted you."
After listening to his story, you closed your eyes and sighed heavily. There was no way you could stop him even if you wanted to. The deal was done and he had the invitation. 
"So, who's they?" 
You asked, a bit annoyed but you understood the need.
"That would be me."
A familiar voice startled you from behind, as you finally caught a glimpse of the devil Wonwoo had to make a pact with. 
"Jihoon, didn't know you were there," Wonwoo remarked, as the new arrival bent down and passed a heavy binder to him. 
"I just arrived really. Thank you for the reading notes though," he replied, paying you and Soonyoung no heed. "Anyway, Y/N, please return to our room as soon as you finish class. We have to talk about what you're going to wear for the ball."
Jihoon ordered, then stalked away without waiting for a reply, leaving you taken aback. 
After a few moments, you turned to Wonwoo wearing a rather frightening expression on your face.
"Jeon Wonwoo! How dare you bargain me to Lee Jihoon!!" 
'Do you despise Lee Jihoon that much?' 
The voice inside your head asked, completely eclipsing the words of your professor. 
'Do you really have to talk to me during class? ' You snarled, spinning your pen around as you watched one of your classmates getting scolded for sleeping. 
'You don't even like this class. So I'm actually doing you a favor by entertaining you.’
'Touché.'
A few moments of silence passed before your soulmate replied. You thought he bailed out, yet that was definitely not the case.
'Lee Jihoon is the reason why you seem troubled today, isn't it?'
You sighed. 'How obstinate...'
'As obstinate as you, in fact. Have you forgotten that we're soulmates?' 
Clicking your tongue, you knew he was going to bother you if you didn't answer, and well, the words from a month ago rang deep inside your heart: Accept them and learn.
'Fine, he does upset me. I mean, I was not supposed to go to that pretentious ball, now I have to wear those heavy dresses and fake laugh with people I despise a lot! I could be doing something else, you know! Something I enjoy more!'
It took him some time to reply. It's not your fault you had no one to talk about it. Wonwoo and Soonyoung literally sacrificed you. 
'Is it not because you dislike him?'
'I am irritated now because of what he did, yet I surely do not harbor stronger hatred towards him. I live with him after all.' 
'I see. So you simply have a dislike towards parties in general?'
'Not entirely. I don't mind going to parties, yet this one particular ball does not sit well with me.' 
'Why so?'
You propped your chin on your hand as you leafed through the pages of your textbook. 
'It goes against everything I believe in. Why do people have to organize such expensive balls? Wearing expensive clothes? Eating expensive food? They could just donate that money. Don't you think so?' 
He hummed, thinking of a reply. 'You do have a point. Furthermore, it is not only this country's problem yet of entire humanity. Isn't it human nature to be greedy? Isn't it the nature of material objects to be scarce?' 
'Thus, it is an unavoidable, inevitable problem, you mean to say? Well, that would definitely be the case if no effort is afforded to find a solution to this problem. No matter how minute my actions are, I'm sure they would still have a rippling effect.' 
The person on the other side scoffed. 'If only that is how simple things are.' 
'What do you mean by that? Are you calling me naive?' 
He laughed. 'Whatever you think it is shall be its meaning.' 
You were about to interject with your own retort yet was unable to catch up. 
'Well, looks like I still have things to do. It was a pleasure talking to you today. Until then, my soulmate.'
And with that, the connection halted. 
You sighed and slumped on your seat with lips pursed. It was difficult talking to him while keeping your own pride in check. He was definitely talented in wounding it. 
They would magnify your insecurities, your fears, your greatest flaws as a person, and force you to face them.
Sighing, you glanced at the bell that had begun to signal the end of class. 
Bathed in golden sunlight, you entered your dorm room as instructed by Lee Jihoon. 
It has been a month since you began living here yet the days seemed to have gone in a flash. To be honest, other than that time you saw him practicing with his cello, there was little to no interaction between you and Lee Jihoon. He really made sure to avoid me…
Yet right now, so suddenly…what has changed?
Opening the french doors like you did when you first met him, you were greeted by several female attendants and rows of clothes racks, each having a massive collection of gowns.
"Took you long enough to return."
Someone suddenly spoke behind you, making you jump in surprise. Taking a step back, you only bumped into Lee Jihoon's chest. 
"I had to go to the library on the way here," you replied, making some distance between the two of you as the black-haired male marched his way to a vacant armchair. 
"I see. Well then, shall we begin our business here?" He asked as soon as he was settled on his seat, glancing at the gowns at the side. 
"Exactly what I had in mind. Do you wish to explain what these are for?"
With an expression that reeked irritation, Jihoon gave no response to a question he assumed you knew the answer to. 
You sighed. "What I mean is, I thought you had already chosen something for me, so I was quite surprised to see all of these." 
The both of you simply gazed at one another without uttering a single word. Only the sound of the clock ticking and the afternoon bells outside could be heard as you allowed yourselves to be absorbed in your own little trance. Until Jihoon finally relented and stood up. 
"I just thought you would rather choose something akin to your own preference," he told you, scratching his nape, "additionally, these ones here are all about to be thrown out, so maybe you--"
"These ones are about to be thrown out?! But they still look so pretty!" You interrupted, wholly surprised as you inspected the exquisite bead work of the nearest dress to you. 
"It's common for people in the upper class to throw away gowns after wearing it once. So I thought you'd appreciate wearing something like this rather than having something new ordered. We could give away the other ones here as well," Jihoon explained, now a bit conscious of your reaction. 
Chuckling at how he was slowly becoming bashful, you threw a wide grin at him which Jihoon was sure had definitely caught his breath. 
"That was so thoughtful of you! Thank you!" You exclaimed, now more than interested to browse at the racks. 
Unable to respond, Jihoon silently allowed you to check out the dresses while he tried to conceal the fact that his ears had turned red. 
"What about you though? Have you already chosen something for yourself?" You asked in the midst of trying out one blue sequined gown. 
"Since I’m a member of the Parliament, we have to wear a standard ceremonial uniform," he replied, now seated back on the armchair.
"Is that so?" You hummed then continued, "I think I've decided on one so allow me to finish."
After some time, you returned to the common room, showing Jihoon the gown you had picked for the occasion. 
In a beige off-shoulder gown filled with lace trims and appliques, peacock feather patterns of sequins and gemstones, and dangling diamonds, you twirled around the room as the late afternoon sunlight created surreal reflections of light as it reflected on your dress. 
In Jihoon's eyes, you were dazzling, sparkling. He could feel his heart almost explode by how hard it was beating against his chest. What's missing though was a bouquet of roses and a lace veil. This is vexing...
"So what do you think?" You asked, now incredibly self-conscious because of how he was staring at you.
Again, Jihoon was quiet as he glanced at you, yet allowed a sigh to escape before he stood up from where he was sitting. Approaching the coffee table, he picked up a lacquered box and went back to where you were standing.
As he opened the box, you caught a glimpse of a necklace adorned with diamonds, garnets and rubies, sparkling earnestly. Handing the box to one of the attendants, Jihoon held out the necklace to you and wrapped it around your neck.
The close proximity made your heart race for a bit as you unintentionally took a whiff of his cologne. Aware of your reaction, you averted your gaze elsewhere in embarrassment. You were brought back to the present when Jihoon finally took a step back and you felt the weight of the necklace on your skin. 
"Oh...wow, this…" you began yet cannot finish.
"It's a family heirloom so take care of it." Then in a rather unexpected turn, Jihoon smiled at you warmly, making your heart race even further. "It suits you quite well."
Unable to contain it any longer, your lips broke out a wide grin. "I suppose this is a loan then." 
In a rather good mood, Jihoon took your hand in his. "How about we practice our dance? Surely, we wouldn't want to embarrass ourselves during the First Waltz."
You scoffed. "Despite how I may appear, I am capable of a simple waltz."
"That's reassuring then," he remarked, twirling you around so suddenly that had you gasping.
Back in his arms, the both of you moved back and forth as your feet danced to an imaginary melody. 
You never shied away from his intense gaze, rather, you accepted the challenge and smirked at him. 
"So, my dear sir, please answer this burning question I have in my heart," you mocked him playfully. 
"Why are you talking to me like that?" He furrowed his brows which you found adorable.
"I thought since we are to attend such a high profile event, utter politeness is necessary, even in speech."
Jihoon frowned, unimpressed. "Please stop teasing me. What was your question, by the way?" 
Chuckling, you replied, "What are you planning, Lee Jihoon?"
Even though you were still smiling, the atmosphere suddenly turned tense. Lee Jihoon can flatter you with pretty dresses and beautiful diamond necklaces yet you never cared much for them in the first place. To you, his actions were suspicious and it didn't help that he was a rather mysterious person. 
"Planning? Pardon me yet I do not know what you are pertaining to," he replied, as calm as you were. 
"What are you planning by choosing me as your partner? You could have made Wonwoo bargain a million other things, yet you chose me."
This time, it was Jihoon's turn to smirk. 
"I was simply confirming a few hunches, though that does not mean I will divulge them to you." 
This bastard…
You felt a sweatdrop trickle down your cheek as you grit your teeth. "I am not your toy." 
"I wouldn't dream of treating you as such," he grinned at you, "More than anything, you are quite important to me."
"I'd rather wish not to be involved in your political ploys," you seethed. 
He arched a brow at you. "Why would I? You are a mere alchemist's daughter whose political power is the same as the next person." 
You knew where this was going. You spoke no word as you tried to control your expression; not allowing him to see it in your face.
Jihoon smirked, his words hanging on the air.
"Unless, you have more than you let on?" 
*
One week later
The Grand Royal Ball, The Crystal Palace
You kept a tight smile.
The tip of your nose was itching, your skin unused to the makeup covering your face. Superficiality lingered and clung to every corner of the palace from its golden ornaments and marble balustrades to the couples ahead of you, marching their way towards the ballroom for the much awaited First Waltz.Yet you have to smile on. 
Welcome to the Grand Royal Ball!
Beside you was Lee Jihoon, dressed in an attire reserved for high-ranking officials and a sash which proudly broadcasts that he was someone you wouldn't want to mess with. You, on the other hand, wore the gown and the necklace you had tried on a week before, with hair coiffed to perfection and silk gloves which hid the markings on your wrist.
Only the most prominent, the highest  of the high were invited to dance during  the First Waltz.  From billionaire philanthropists and award-winning researchers to  powerful politicians like Lee Jihoon, they all  provide a sense of  prestige to the whole event. This is when the ball catches so much attention after all. 
Lining up uniformly, everyone participating curtsied before the reigning monarch as was the custom, and the music began playing. Facing Jihoon, you gave him a rather mocking smile as you placed your hand on his shoulder and the other on his hand. 
Without a word, everyone began dancing. 
As you stepped across the ballroom, you allowed your mind to slip away from reality; the face of Lee Jihoon reminding you why you were putting up with this sort of pompous absurdity in the first place.
A few days ago… 
You groaned in frustration. 
"I swear, Lee Jihoon is the most irritating man I've ever met in my entire life!" 
"Let's wait for him to fall asleep and beat him up, Y/N!" Soonyoung, who was happily lazing on the grass exclaimed.
"Come on, then! He's already asleep at this hour!" You responded, quite eagerly.
Simply sighing at your shenanigans, Wonwoo closed the book he was reading. 
"Don't listen to him, Y/N. He's drunk," he remarked. 
"But I haven't been drinking!!" 
The other man simply looked at him with a jaded look on his face. 
"You're always drunk even without drinking anything," Wonwoo quietly retorted. "Anyway, Y/N…"
Sitting back down on the grass, you turned to him. It was already past midnight yet the three of you decided to hold a meeting at a long forgotten grove behind the dormitories, usually used by overly-zealous couples for their own pleasure.
"It's true that Jihoon can be cunning if he wants to, yet it's not like we can't do the same as well," he continued, "There's a reason why I had no reservations in bargaining you."
"That doesn't sound too comforting, you know?" 
"As I was saying, Lee Jihoon can be cunning. He can't be trusted to stay at the venue while we are in that meeting. That is precisely why we have to get him out of the venue as soon as possible." 
You nodded. It was the same reason why it wasn't you who was leading this investigation. 
"So my job is to have him stay away from the palace while you and Soonyoung are in the meeting. Alright, I understand."
Wonwoo sighed. "Y/N, I'm not doing this because I think your skills are inadequate, but because we need to play by the rules. If things fail and our cover is blown, Soonyoung and I already have tainted names that another case wouldn't matter much. I can't have you dirty your own name." 
Looking down, you understood where he was coming from. It really wasn't an issue of who's weaker or who's stronger. It was an issue of who's richer and more influential. Wonwoo and Soonyoung, because of their wealth and power, were able to establish their own newspaper company with relative ease. And with that same wealth and power, if anything does happen, the repercussions they have to face and its lasting effects wouldn't be as heavy as an ordinary person would experience. Such is the gift of privilege. 
"I know. I understand." 
You knew, as soon as the dance ended, people would flock around Lee Jihoon, all wanting a piece of that power and influence. 
That is why, when you had the chance, you slipped away from his side and went straight to the buffet tables. If you were going to attend a grand ball, might as well stuff yourself with food. 
That veal over there looks scrumptious!! 
Filling your plate to the brim, you scoured all over the buffet, finding food you have never dreamed of tasting. 
"Y/N! We finally found you, for god's sake! We thought something happened to you!" A familiar voice exclaimed, making you look up from the plate you were feasting on, as you sat on a bench at the side. 
"Ah, Soonyoung, Wonwoo! I didn't see you guys at the dance!" You replied, piercing a turkey leg with your fork. 
"Well, that's because we weren't invited to the dance. Our parents are though, since they are the VIPs," Wonwoo explained.
You hummed. "I see. Well, so far this ball has delicious food. Other than that, it's quite boring. I don't know half these people, and they've been looking at me since a while ago."
Like he always is, Soonyoung embraced you from behind, wrapping his arms around your neck with a cheeky green. 
"Your date is quite popular, you know? It's only natural for people to be curious as to the identity of his chosen date," he remarked, taking a bite of meat from your fork. 
"You're making it sound so romantic," you spat with disdain.
Soonyoung grinned. "Come on, don't you feel anything for our resident politician? You two were dancing so nicely earlier, you know."  
You clicked your tongue. "He's suspicious of me. I think he has a hunch that I'm Alex Fireflower." 
"This is why the Soulmate Bond hasn't visited you yet! You're always so serious! You need to loosen up and have a bit of romance in your life! You can't be young forever!"
"I think Soonyoung has a point here though," Wonwoo suddenly interjected, now with a mischievous smile. "Dating Lee Jihoon could open various opportunities of information gathering. Moreover, you can monitor him more closely than ever before." 
"Oh god, not you too. Isn't it enough that we're roommates?" You complained, sighing.
"No, no! That's not going to cut it, Y/N!" Soonyoung exclaimed, "You have to get inside his room!" 
Glaring at him, you hissed harshly. "I will not enter his room! And I will never date him!"
"Has no one ever told you to avoid using 'never', especially when there is a chance that you will be eating your own words in the near future?" 
A new voice suddenly interrupted your banter as the three of you glanced at the newcomer with a variety of expressions.
In his calm yet intimidating aura, Lee Jihoon stood before you three, waiting for a response. Of course, with a glass of wine in his hands. 
"Has no one ever told you that it's not good manners to eavesdrop on other people's conversations?" You retorted back. 
With arched brows, Jihoon approached you and glanced at Soonyoung who eventually retreated away from you and back to Wonwoo's side with a nervous look on his face.
"It's hardly eavesdropping when I can hear you three screaming from the other side of the room."
At this comment, the three of you looked away in shame, unable to say anything to refute Jihoon.
"If there is nothing else, may I borrow my date for a while?" He then spoke, reaching for your hand while looking at Wonwoo and Soonyoung. 
Grinning, the two easily offered you. 
"Please do, Jihoon (before we turn into mincemeat)."
"Oh of course, please enjoy the rest of the night!"
You grit your teeth and glared at them, annoyed that you weren't able to finish your meal, much less bring anything with you back home. 
Traitors! I'll come back for you two after this!
As Jihoon swept you away from the buffet tables and towards the deserted balcony, you suddenly began to worry about what he was up to.
While dark and cool, the balcony was a pleasant place to escape to especially from a crowd of prying eyes. The crawling rose vines and the tall hedges concealed the area enough so that it was difficult to discern who was who in the balcony. 
"What is it that you want from me?" You finally asked, standing face to face. 
For a moment, Jihoon simply gazed at you before shrugging. "I just thought that since we are already here, we might as well enjoy a dance together. I am not one unkind enough to refuse dancing with my own date."
Arching a brow, you blinked several times, totally suspicious of his intentions. You sighed.
"And here I thought the thirty minute waltz from earlier would suffice," tartly, that was how you replied. 
Jihoon snorted, the first one you have seen. 
"That was simply a mere performance, one that is born out of tradition and formality. This time, I wish to dance with you at our own pace."
Still suspicious, yet nonetheless resigned, you hummed in agreement and took a step forward, towards him. 
Without warning, you snatched the wine glass from his grasps and drank everything in one gulp before discarding it on the balustrade's edge, earning a confused look on Jihoon's face.
"Now then, shall we begin?" you replied, reaching for his shoulder and his own hand on yours.
It seemed like for a moment, Jihoon was stunned by how fast your actions were. However, it didn't take him long to come back to his senses and place a hand on your waist.
Gradually, the both of you swung back and forth a millisecond late from the music's beat, simply too absorbed in each other to correct it.
As you gazed into Jihoon's eyes, you knew you needed that swig of alcohol to survive the whole night. He was as intense as ever; his sharp eyes unreadable, his lips curving into a ghost of a smirk. The grip he had on your waist was firm, sending shivers to your spine. 
You need to loosen up and have a bit of romance in your life!
Dating Lee Jihoon could open various opportunities...
You mentally shook those thoughts away. This wasn't the right time to think about those things.
"I've changed my mind, you know?" Jihoon finally spoke, his voice pulling you away from your reverie. 
"About what?" You asked, your hand warm on his. 
"I want to know you better. I know when we first met, I didn't want anything to do with you, but for some reason, my sentiments have changed over time."
Flustered at the sudden confession, you were only able to say one thing, "Why?" 
"Why…? Why indeed," he made a soft smile at this, as if he knew something that was totally lost to you. "Maybe if I get to know you more, I might arrive at an answer." 
You looked away, unable to face his earnest eyes. There was a feeling in you that knows he was being honest, yet you still couldn't help but feel suspicious. Why is he suddenly springing this up on me? Why does he want to know me? What is he planning? Who exactly is Lee Jihoon? 
You also didn't know the answer to those questions. But maybe, just maybe, you would understand if you just let him in. 
You need to loosen up and have a bit of romance in your life!
God damn it, Soonyoung!
"If that is the case, then feel free to explore, yet that does not mean, the seas are not treacherous," you finally said, your lips curving into a mischievous smile. 
"I wouldn't want anything else."
Grinning back at you, Jihoon leaned forward and placed a small chaste kiss on your forehead, making you look at him with the most stunned expression on your face. 
"I-I...I think I might want to have another drink! J-just stay there! I'll be back!"
As you shouted, you stormed away from the balcony and went straight back to the buffet tables, seeking anything that is liquid, alcoholic or cold to ease the burning on your cheeks. 
"Yes, it seems like I made the right decision with choosing her as my date," he remarked as he watched your retreating figure, smirking to himself.  
By the time you went back, you had already downed a few glasses, and another one on your hand to drink for later. You were tipsy then, as obvious as your flushed cheeks were, and Jihoon had to catch you before you stumbled onto the ground.
"You seemed to have drunk a lot," he remarked as he steadied you on your step.
"...Need it," you muttered, unable to look at him.
"What?"
"Jihoon…" purring, you clung to his lapel with a giggle, your face simply inches away from his. "You...you look quite handsome…have I told you that?" 
With a smirk, you inched closer to him; lips almost brushing against each other. That is, until he turned his head and pushed you away.
"It's late...we should head home."
 His ears were red though.
The school was silent during the dead hours of the night. Students were either prohibited by their curfews or too busy studying to bother with fooling around. Only the soft rustling of wisteria and cherry blossom flowers and the loud ramblings of a drunkard could be heard across the courtyard. 
"Jihoonie~ come on now…don't touch me there," you teased between giggles as he carried you behind his back. 
"Please don't be too loud…"
"I'm not loud! In fact, I'm quite soft spoken~"
"What did I get myself into…?"
You were definitely heavy; and with the weight of the whole dress, Jihoon was already wheezing when he opened the door to your shared dormitory and carried you to your own bed. 
Gently laying you down, Jihoon spent a few moments gazing at you who was smiling at him carelessly. 
"Oh my…" a giggle, "are you going to confess your undying love to me now…?" You asked, making him grin at you. 
"Would you believe me if I did?" Jihoon responded, slowly reaching for your wrist wrapped in a silk and lace glove. 
"Of course not," you smirked. "You're Lee Jihoon." 
Upon your words, he made a small smile, yet it had hinted some sort of deeper sadness. Lifting your hand up, Jihoon kissed the inside of your wrist. 
"Of course."
CHAP 1 | CHAP 2 | CHAP 3 | CHAP 4 |  CHAP 5 | CHAP 6 |
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A/N: Hii!! This is Hyeri again!! No new chapters for next week (instead some Jihoon smut, if you like those sksksk) Hopefully, after that week, regular updates on this fic will continue! (maybe punctuated by some Wonwoo smut;;; Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter!!! Thank you so much!!
-Hyeri
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lambourngb · 4 years
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Behind the Scenes- Last Year’s Wishes
@zuluoscarecho - ““Oh man you have been busy! I’m glad the writing Has been going well for you. I would love to hear about your process when you get a chance if you’re keen. Like whether you plotted it out, whether the whole fic came to you (more or less) or how hard you had to work to fill in the gaps to get you where you wanted to go, whether you’re a “push through” kinda writer and just sit down and do it or whether you scribble stuff down all day and then type it up at the end or whatever. Many questions I have”
Oh boy, these are great questions- my approach to writing has changed from how I started “Last Years Wishes” and how I’m finishing it. First of all, I was out of practice. The last long story I tackled and finished on my own was in 2002-2003 on ff.net  (for a moment I thought it was 2012-2013 but I just looked it up and still can’t believe it was that long ago, hahah) Then I wrote a follow up with a co-writer that ended …poorly due to stuff outside of writing with that person. I hit a very bad depressive cycle and didn’t write again until 2019 and RNM.
The idea came after I watched some true crime story in August- I think it was “Murder Comes to Town” - which is all small town population less than 10,000 gets hit with a salacious murder. I immediately thought about Michael, and first I thought he could be blamed for Max’s disappearance, but then I remembered how visible Noah was to the town, and I was off plotting. Carina said on twitter- oh lord what a loaded sentence that is - that we don’t know when Alex was at the Airstream or what he had to say- which fine, but that made me think about juggling the time a bit, letting the police show up first, then Alex go to the wild pony, THEN MAX, and yeah boom! Conflict! Alex knows Michael wants to be with someone else, but he just gave him an alibi. They are stuck! Fuck Alex’s whole life, amirite? That part of the idea came all at once.
I wrote the first draft of the scene for Tumblr - August 8th - started it before work when I like to write- kept writing once I got to work (bad employee!) posted it and as the comments and likes rolled in, I kept writing. First day was like 6,000 words.
Then I didn’t really touch it for 2 weeks. I kept adding stuff here and there, using WIP Wednesday to motivate me to share a bit. In one month though, the story was at 10,000 words by September 12. Mainly because I just wrote as it came to me, and let my brain just fuck off on Tumblr or reading other fics. I wasn’t really serious about it. Six weeks later it was 15,000 words by the end of October. This time I thought the reason I didn’t have more progress on it was because I didn’t have the practice of finishing a story- so I attempted at the very beginning of October to do Whumptober. I managed to write 2 stories - truth (to the people we love) and If You Regret (What You Know).
So two stories finished, I went back to Last Year’s Wishes and used everyone working on NaNo for November to buckled down. I wrote out a rough outline of future scenes. I made a point to write, if I could, every day something. I do try and write in a linear fashion, but if I couldn’t move forward in the story, I would go back to previous stuff to add in descriptions, put in some introspection- sometimes a whole scene needed to be inserted, then I could push forward again.
The story grew from 15,000 words on Nov 1 to 28,000 words by Dec 1. Nearly double in size. And the more I put my ass in the chair to write, the easier it became to focus. It will never be easy to focus for me- I really like scrolling on my phone, chatting with other people, etc. But I had to build a muscle in my brain from the ground up with no real belief that I would succeed because I thought depression and anti-depressants had broken my brain. But Malex kept me interested.
By the time December rolled around, I made a goal of finishing it by New Years, but then my outline kept growing. I kept thinking about the underlying plot, I kept thinking about how big the communication divide was- I couldn’t just say “they talked, they fucked HEA!”. As December came to a close, I realized I had written 32,000 words in the month of December but I was only half done with the story. So while I was disappointed I hadn’t hit my goal of being done, I was very pleased at the progress. The story was around 60,000 words by the end of the year.
January- I increased my goal of 1,000 words a day, to 2,000 words a day.  I really believed I could finish it in one sustained push. I wrote nearly 40,000 words in the month of January- bringing it to just under 99,000 words but…it still wasn’t done. My assistant quit. I got sick. Progress stuttered. But I felt like the end was in site- so I contacted  betas, two of which came through- tasyfa and Maura - and kept writing. I thought it was just 20,000 words to go, and since I just wrote 40,000 in one month, I could easily write 20,000 2-1/2 weeks, right????
February- beta comments were great, I started releasing it publically in chapters, and then the feedback started rolling in- and instead of motivating me forward, I started obsessing over the next thing people would read- I wanted it to be perfect. I started inserting new scenes, fleshing out other areas- driving my betas crazy I think- because I kept poking at it. I wrote those 20,000 words easily as the story was getting posted, but they were all in the existing frame of the plot. New stuff … that didn’t really start happening until March.
Another thing that I realized was my outline needed to be supportive but flexible. Originally (which remind me once it’s complete) but I had some different ideas for how the last few chapters were going to go, and I had to let those narratives go because it no longer felt natural to me with the narrative I had established.
Even now I have 5 scenes outlined for chapter 22, but as I started writing it this morning, I am leaning toward blending it into 4 or 3 scenes. Oh- my scene should have a standalone point to accomplish, and if that point isn’t clear or can be accomplished in another way, then it gets moved or blended. I don’t really jot things down on paper- but I have two documents- the writing doc, and the story doc. Writing doc has the outline, I always write with my outline heading just below my cursor so I can keep looking down at my goals and construct the scene from there. The story doc is where I cut and paste it into the whole thing. Sometimes as I scroll to find where I am in the doc, I will add something or edit something, before putting in the next bit at the end.
This is what chapter 18-19-20 looked like on Feb 9th in my outline : [1.. After their pathetic attempts to decorate Alex‘s leg was starting to bother him. Michael took one look at him and advised that he remove the prosthetic. Alex protested mildly about being seen that way. Michael reassured him that Isabell not only knew but didn’t care.
1a. - Isobel and Kyle arrive- she found him in the grocery store attempting to leave with the last baked ham - Mom working a double, Rosa was going to midnight mass with Arturo and Liz- 1b. Isabell and Michael have a quiet talk that Alex overhears while he changes and removes his leg for the night-. He discusses talking to Maria and reframing some of what Alex had said. 1c- walks past them to the kitchen with Kyle]
[2.  Isobel and Kyle show up  to the cabin for Christmas Eve- Isobel sleeps over. Michael offers the spare, Kyle takes the couch, Alex objects to Michael sleeping in the airstream. ]
[ 3. Alex wakes up to an alert on the day after  Christmas Day that gets an alert about someone at the cave. Finds Michael staring at Jesse and not Max.. Why did you think you were like him- that night that Noah died. What did that mean. It means he was ruthless about his agenda and so am I. I’ll do anything to protect you. Michael is silent and closed off, but follows him back to the cabin - knowledge from the ship piece ]
ONE MONTH LATER on March 10 the notes looked like this based on how the story looked: [2.  Isobel and Kyle stay in the face of the weather- Isobel sleeps over. Michael offers the spare, Kyle takes the Airstream ,Michael volunteers himself to sleep with Alex - Michael quietly explains he isn’t going to have a conversation with anyone afterward, Christmas gift exchange- Michael gives him the handprint- remnant from the console and his mother, sharing the intensity - they have sex  ]
[ 3. Alex wakes up to intense sorrow by Michael via the handprint n the day after  Christmas Day that gets an alert about someone at the cave. Finds Michael staring at Jesse and not Max.. Why did you think you were like him- that night that Noah died. What did that mean. They discuss Alex’s family and the future- do you think you would ever forgive them? I’ve been mad at Max, but if he came back today I would take him back, What about Flint and what he did ? Do you think he’s sorry? knowledge from the ship piece- soul mates, forever tied together ]
Err— I’m long winded, so did I answer your questions? Feel free to ask more!!
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Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Two
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Chapter: 2/19
Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)
Genre: Romance/Angst
Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.
Rating: M
Author’s Notes/Warnings:  This is part nine of Last Minutes & Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff​ for listening to me ramble incessantly about  this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart.
Previous
CHAPTER TWO
  “So, how was it?” Jules fired as Rosemary pushed her way into Stories Untold the next morning.
 She shot the tall redhead a glare which softened upon seeing the mug of coffee that had been thrust in her direction. She grabbed it and took a grateful sip. Caffeine, she mused. Heaven.
 Seeing Rosemary’s shoulders relax, Jules plowed onward. “Details. I need details. Did you have fun? How much did we raise? Did you talk to anyone famous?” Her eyes had taken on the manic gleam that Rosemary customarily saw only during the run up to a major holiday sales run or anticipated date nights. There was little that could be done to soften the fervor, but it might be postponed…
 Rosemary threw her free hand up in plaintive surrender. “One question at a time, Jules, please. My blood caffeine level is not up to your rapid fire demands just yet. Take pity on me.”
 A sigh was Jules only answer and Rosemary took the welcome reprieve as a chance to finish her coffee and actually place her belongings in the office. And once her coffee had been finished and her purse and coat secured, she’d surrendered wholly to Jules’ excited frenzy.
 Yes, it had been a rather nice time. And yes, she had in fact rubbed elbows with more than a few well knowns. Jules had been particularly interested in her chat with Colin Firth. And yes, they’d managed to raise a great deal more readies than either of them had anticipated. Jules beamed, demanding as many details as Rosemary could remember. She’d indulged as best she could while they filled the register and readied the store for opening.
 Rosemary did not, however, once mention her encounter with Tom. While Jules had cooled in her dislike over the years, Rosemary hadn’t felt the need to rock the boat. Besides, the chances of another run in were slight. They, after all, had managed to avoid one another over the last three years; bringing up him at this juncture would be foolish.
 The sales through lunch were stronger than she’d expected. And once Evan had come in, Rosemary had retired to the back to wage war on the seemingly never-ending paperwork in the back office. Orders in particular had become her pet project of the week. She’d managed to get a quarter of the way through the next months’ proposed work up for both stores when distraction reared its head.
 “Have you seen the pictures?” Jules voice carried from the hallway. “From the gala?”
 Rosemary looked at Jules with momentary confusion. “Pictures?” Then sense came flooding back. Charity event. Photographers. Of course there had been pictures. “God, sorry. Still not firing on all cylinders. I take it I’m in some?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Academically, she’d known it was a possibility but hadn’t really taken the time to think it through.
 Jules cocked an eyebrow. “Not a lot.” She paused to fish something from her pocket. “Though I must say, I am practically green with envy over this one with you and Colin Firth.” She held up her phone and flashed said photograph.
 Rosemary grabbed the phone and studied the shot briefly before handing it back. “Huh. Not too shabby.” It was a nice photograph. She’d looked remarkably put together and not at all discomposed; a feat indeed considering who she’d been standing next to. He was Mr. Darcy after all. With a shake of her head she returned her attention to the latest order sheet.
 Jules, however, remained in the doorway in silence for several moments. Rosemary could feel her eyes burning into the back of her head. “Yes?”
 “Tom was there.” It was a statement, not a question.
 Rosemary sighed. “Yes, he was. We bumped into each other before the auction.”
 “And you didn’t see fit to mention this because…”
 “It wasn’t anything major. We saw each other, made small talk. What else was I supposed to do? Avoiding him or flat out refusing to speak to him would create more questions than it was worth. Besides it’s been three years. It’s water under the bridge.”
 Jules looked less than convinced. “You are in a few. With him.”
 “Oh?” She hoped her tone did not belie the disconcerting feeling that flooded through her. “He was at my table for a spell. We chatted. I guess it was bound to happen.”
 “Rose…”
 She sighed and dropped the papers still in her hand onto the desk “Jules, honey, I’m fine. It wasn’t nearly as bad as I had feared it would be. We were both adults and handled ourselves accordingly. No harm, no foul.”
 Jules narrowed her eyes but did not utter a word.
 Rosemary shook her head, “I know what you’re thinking, but really I’m okay. I moved on, we both have. He’s not a horrible person, he never was. We just don’t work. And that’s okay.”
 “I know, Rose. I know. I just…You know what, never mind.” She shook her head and relaxed her shoulders. “I’m going to head back out there and make sure Evan’s not being eaten alive.” She smiled.
 Rosemary shook her head, laughing as well. “Don’t bother; a little chaos is good for him. Builds character.”
 “I’ll just let him know you said that. I’m sure it’ll be a comfort as he nurses his wounds.”
 She laughed in earnest and shifted her attention back to the waiting forms. “He’ll deal.”
                                                              ___
  “Can you move that display about a foot and a half to the left?” With a good natured groan Max, the newest edition to the Stories Untold family, shifted the display, again. Rosemary studied it critically and then smiled. “Perfect.”
 The newest Stories location had been officially open for a week and, save for a few minor hiccups, had been running smoothly. Sales looked promising and foot traffic was slow but steady. And while Jules’ reports showed that the main store was holding its own, Rosemary still felt the familiar flutter of unease.
 It was silly, she knew, and most days she could pay it rather little mind. This would be her first major change to the business she’d loved and cherished fiercely since she’d taken sole ownership seven years prior. She wanted this to succeed; wanted it desperately.
 “You sure? Like completely, 100%, can’t be any surer, sure?” Max raised his sandy eyebrow which pulled a hearty laugh from everyone in the room and a quirked eyebrow from Rosemary.
 “Watch your cheek, young man.” The laughter in her eyes belied her stern tone. She shook her head and sighed. “Yes. I’m sure. Now, back to the stock room with you; those boxes aren’t going to stock themselves.” Max grumbled good-naturedly as he lumbered off to complete his assigned task.
 Rosemary sighed and turned her attention back to the front counter. “Alright people, let’s get back to work. We’ve got ten minutes before we open.”
 A controlled melee erupted around her; Hanna, the store’s assistant manager, flew to the register, and finished loading the till. Alex and Gabe, stocking and general floor help, ran around the main sales floor making sure everything was settled and ready for the start of business. Rosemary smiled at the chaos.
 Yeah, she thought, this will definitely be a challenge.
                                                       ____
  “Excuse me, do you know if you’ve got the new Carter novel in?”
 Rosemary turned, setting the box she’d been carrying onto the counter. She smiled at the woman standing before her. “Let me check.” A few quick taps on the tablet sitting by the registers later and Rosemary nodded. “Yes we do. It will be just here.” She motioned for the woman to follow her.
 Book obtained, the woman thanked Rosemary profusely, quickly paid for her purchase, and hurried from the store, leaving the jangle of the door chime in her wake. Rosemary turned her attention back to the box she’d sat on the counter. With any luck it should be the business cards and other various promotional materials they’d been due a week and a half ago.
 Box cutter in hand, Rosemary had seen but not registered the figure that had entered the store and now stood near the counter.
 “We seem to have a habit of meeting like this,” a familiar, warm voice chuckled. Startled, Rosemary dropped the box cutter and snapped her gaze up. Tom stood, a small but genuine smile lighting his features. “Hello.”
 Rosemary blinked at him for several moments before remembering herself and returning his greeting. “Hi.” She let out a small, nervous laugh and quickly collected herself once more. “You, good sir, seem to have a habit of scaring years off my lifespan.”
 Tom held his hands up in apology. “As always, that was never my intent.”
 “So, Mr. Hiddleston, what brings you in today?” Professional, she told herself, I just need to keep myself professional and I can keep my head.
 It was his turn to chuckle nervously, “You,” he answered with a smile, “Actually.”
 Rosemary was taken aback but fought to hide it. “Oh? And you knew I’d be here because?”
 Tom laughed in earnest. “The store has always been your baby. There isn’t a chance in hell that you’d not be here for the newest launch.”
 Rosemary nodded slowly and rested her hands on the counter. “That still doesn’t really clear anything up.” She watched Tom blink in confusion and stamped down the small part of her heart that fluttered stubbornly in her chest.
 She watched Tom rub the back of his neck with his left hand. “I saw the sign for the shop a few weeks back and was intrigued,” he started, eyes rising to hers. “I had been debating on whether it was a good idea for me to come after it opened when I ran into you at the gala.” His face flushed slightly. “After that I knew that I had to at least see…” He paused again and seeming to come to a decision, carried on. “I just…I missed you.”
 Rosemary didn’t bother to hide the shock and confusion that flooded over her. “You missed me?” She parroted back, trying to understand. “It’s been three years, Tom. Why now?”
 Tom nodded. “I know you asked me to stay away. And I understand why. I did my utmost best to respect that. But, yes, I have missed you. And seeing you again…it solidified that for me.”
 A thousand questions ricocheted through her mind. With great effort she settle on, “What do you want, Tom?”
 He smiled softly, “To be able to talk with you again. To call you when I’ve had a shit day or a great one or when I just want to hear your voice. There’s this saying, I guess you’d call it, that I heard recently and it struck me.” He paused, watching her face. “It pretty much goes that you have no idea how much you miss someone until something happens, good or ill, and the only person you want to tell is the one who’s not there. And it’s true. I want you in my life Rosemary, in whatever capacity you are comfortable with.” His eyes were clear and cautiously hopeful.
 She stared at him in stunned disbelief. It was tempting, so very tempting. “Tom…”
 He nodded and offered a small, knowing smile of understanding. “I’m not asking for an answer now. But can you get promise me to think about it?”
 Rosemary hesitated, her eyes lowering to the counter. Could she do this? Should she? And if she didn’t would she honestly be okay with it? With a sigh, she nodded. “I can do that.” She paused, pulling a length of receipt tape from the cash register. In a quick, neat hand she wrote her number and handed it to Tom before she allowed herself to think better of it. His brows rose in confusion. “My number,” she clarified. If he could be bold, so could she.
 He smiled, tucking the number safely in his pocket. “Is it okay if I call you this week? Maybe we could meet for coffee or lunch?”
 Rosemary nodded. “I’d like that.”
                                                         ___
  It took everything Rosemary had to keep herself from jumping each time the phone rang. She felt utterly ridiculous the way her heart would leap into her throat at the sound only to settle in disappointment when the name on the screen wasn’t his. Pathetic, she chided herself. You are completely, ridiculously pathetic.
 Tom had promised to call but that had been nearly two weeks prior. A few days she could easily excuse. He was a busy man and time had a funny way of slipping away when you were busy. Maybe a week, given the right circumstances. But two weeks and nothing, not even a text? She was an idiot for even considering letting him back into her life. But that didn’t stop her from wishing he would call. That he would reach out. Something.
 Disgusted with both herself and the situation, she tossed her phone onto the coffee table and forced herself to focus on something, anything else. The knock at her door forced her heart heavily into her throat.
 “Sweet lord,” she murmured to herself, hand clutches tightly to her chest. With a laugh at her own skittishness, she pushed herself up from the couch and to the front door.
 The first thing she registered was the large bottle of wine clutched tightly in a well-manicured hand. “Wha…” she started. It took all of thirty seconds for her brain to register the smiling face behind the bottle. “Jules?”
 Jules rolled her eyes and pushed past Rosemary into the flat, shedding her coat as she went. “You’ve forgotten our standing date. I’m crushed.”
 Realization dawned. “It’s Thursday!” She shouted, feeling like a fool. “God, where is my head?”
 Jules snorted in laughter. “Obviously not attached. So…seeing as you completely forgot I was coming I doubt you’ve got food ready.”
 Hissing a curse, Rosemary shook her head. “Chinese?” She offered helpfully.
 “I guess that’ll do.” Jules wandered into the kitchen behind Rosemary, grabbing two wine glasses. Armed with both a menu and a corkscrew, Rosemary ushered her friend back into the living room.
 “General Tso’s?” She asked, grabbing her phone from the table.
 Jules nodded her assent and busied herself opening the wine bottle. Order placed, Rosemary took the offered wine glass and sipped gratefully.
 “So…Movie?”
 Jules smirked and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, switching on the flat screen television and cueing up Netflix. “Romantic comedy?”
 Rosemary groaned and settled further into the couch. “Only if it’s a truly terrible one and we take the piss out of it.”
 A grin lit up Jules’ warm face. “One cheesy romantic comedy coming up.”
                                                      ___
  The movie they settled on was truly terrible but the wine and running commentary made it almost bearable. “I cannot believe someone got paid to write this drivel,” Rosemary moaned as she picked through her sweet and sour pork. “I mean seriously, we are in the wrong line of work.”
 Jules lifted her glass. “Here, here!”
 Both women dissolved into fits of giggles. “You spill wine on my couch, young lady, and you’ll be sorry,” Rosemary admonished, placing her own glass onto the coffee table. Another round of giggles erupted between them.
 It took Rosemary several moments to register the ringing she assumed was coming from the television was in fact coming her phone that she’d left lying on the side table. She clumsily grabbed for the phone, hoping whoever was on the other end had patience. She glanced at the phone, it was number she did not recognize. “Hello?”
 “Rosie?”
 The voice was familiar, Rosemary knew that she knew it but still she could not place it. “Yes…?”
 “Rosie, its Tom…Are you drunk?” There was amusement in his tone.
 She giggled. “Maybe...” Rosemary squinted, trying to think. Tom? Tom…Oh yes, Tom. I know Tom! “Tom!” she squealed into the phone, earning a glare from Jules. “Wait…” Her voice trailed off. There was something she was forgetting. “You said you’d call two weeks ago! You lied!”
 A sigh, “I know, I’m sorry.”
 “S’not good enough,” Rosemary protested. “You say you want to be part of my life and then disappear. That’s not acceptable.” From the corner of her eye she could see Jules’ eyebrow rise in increments. She held up her hand and waved it dismissively in her direction. She could not handle two simultaneous conversations at this point.
 “I know it’s not, Rosie. And if you can meet me for lunch tomorrow I can try to explain.”
 Rosemary creased her forehead in confusion. “Why can’t you explain now?”
 Tom sighed and she could hear shuffling on the other end of the line. “I could but something tells me that it would be lost on you at this point.”
 “Are you saying you think I can’t keep up?” Now she was indignant.
 “No, well yes. Rosie, you are slurring your words something fierce…”
 She shook her head, temporarily forgetting that he could not see her. “It’s not that bad. Just tell me Tom. Cause if you don’t I’m just going to assume the worst…” and it wasn’t a completely idle threat.
 “Work, Rose. I got called back for an insane amount of reshoots and I could barely keep myself straight let alone other people.”
 She snorted a laugh of derision. “And you couldn’t text me something to that effect because?”
 “I’m a shit person and got caught up in my own damn head. I’m sorry. I truly am. I should have called or at least texted. It’s just the more time that passed the harder it was to try to justify.” He was nearly tripping over his words now.
 In her inebriated state she could just barely keep up. Damn him. “Tom, I think you’re right. I don’t think I’m up for this kind of conversation right now.”
 “Okay.” Tom paused and was silent for several moments. “Could we…I mean. Would you be able to meet me tomorrow for lunch or maybe dinner? To talk?”
 “Lunch,” Rosemary replied automatically. Dinner was decidedly not a good idea. Far too intimate for whatever is was they currently were.
 “Is Italian okay? I know a nice little café that does a fantastic lunch.”
 She gave her assent and quickly ended the call. The phone chimed moments later with the text Tom had promised of the location and time. She could feel Jules’s eyes on her but did not dare look over. She instead held up her hand in exasperation. “I know. But we are far too drunk for this kind of conversation…”
 “Nope. Not gonna happen, Rose, darling. Drunk is exactly how this kind of conversation needs to happen. So talk,” Jules ordered pouring more wine into each glass.
 Rosemary took the proffered glass and drank deeply, knowing she’d regret all of this come morning. “Fine,” she uttered. “Do your worst.”
 Next  
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bard-dadsquared · 4 years
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In other news, I do need validation. Long angry rant is about to happen.
The other day I called my Ex on fb so he could talk to our son. I made a comment later that day how he looked like he hadnt been sleeping and how he seemed like he may be depressed, and the person i was talking to was just like
"Poor guy :(("
To which I just shrugged and told them that I didnt feel bad for him, everything he's feeling, he brought on himself.
They said "I feel kinds bad for him because I know he loves you!"
And I'm just???
Maybe he did?? Maybe he does?? But that doesn't negate all the shit he did to drive me the fuck away. I loved him too once. But then everything I said, everything I felt, everything I tried to ask for fell on deaf ears.
I don't feel bad for him because when we moved to the duplex in Texas, he left all the loading and packing to me. It was up to me to find people to help me move stuff to the new place and make sure everything was packed and ready to go. All he worried about was his PC and his desk. Hell even my brother and I had to put my bed frame together because he hadn't done it.
He was an asshole everytime we had to go back to the other house to help clean up too and got mad once because my mom asked us to bring something and he didnt bring it.
But things settled down mostly. I hated how i was expected to do almost everything but it was manageable.
Then he wanted to move and find a new job, which was fine, he sorta?? Let me know what kind of jobs he was applying for and where. But when he got an offer, he accepted it without even talking to me about it. The job he took he was going to start in two months and I had less than a months notice to pack all of our shit and leave not only that but they didn't offer relocation and he was going to be getting a little less in pay. We had less than a month to move Which again- he barely helped with. All the sorting through shit and packing was left up to me once again. I ended up leaving almost all of our stuff behind because I couldnt fucking take it with me to my moms.
I gave Virginia a shot and i was more miserable than I've been ever. I was expected to do everything. EVERYTHING. I decided to go to California. I had originally hoped that in doing so we could save some money and he could use the money we saved to get stuff for the apartment to make it more comfortable.
Which didnt really happen until April. After being with Family in Cali for a while, seeing how well lucian was doing and stuff, I honestly didn't wanna go back. I went back to sign the lease and then again a couple months after my aunt died because of how tense things were at the house, i figured it'd be a last ditch effort to save things.
But no. I tried to tell him how I felt. I tried to tell him what bothered me, why i was so depressed. I told him I felt lonely, I told him I felt like i was expected to do everything. And it always. always felt like I was talking to a wall
I told him I wished wed go out and do things more, that itd be nice and I might meet people. He wanted me to meet people online first and then meet them in person. Which totally defeated the purpose of getting me out of the. House to socialize, and even if indidnt make any friends then at least I got out and was productive. But he doesnt like leaving the house.
I told him countless times that I felt like it was unfair that he expected me to do so much work around then house with minimal help, but nothing changed. He thought helping more meant cleaning the kitchen and making easy dinners.
And while I appreciated it in wished hed help more with the living room too, or the laundry, or anything else literally. The most recent time I brought it up he managed to turn it around to finances and told me that he doesnt spend money on himself because he spends it all on me and Lucian. He told me that if i didnt get what I wanted I essentially acted like it was the end of the world.
Granted yes, I'd get disappointed and my displays depending on my mood or whether or not the item was seasonal or limited edition varried from minor to being a little mopey (i really tried not to be, most of the time i was usually more upset about the ungodly cost than anything.)
Then he invades my privacy, not once but twice I found out. This son of a bitch logged on to my discord, TWICE.
The first time he did it was a day I cleaned the whole apartment. Like I vacuumed, shampooed, cleaned the kitchen counters the best in could, did the dishes, took out the trash, wiped counters and the stove, did several loads of laundry, picked up in the bedroom.
As soon as he got home i went to my room and I guess thats when he did it. He logged onto my account on the computer and opened discord, and went through my messages.
That's literally the only reason he asked me for a divorce. Was because he had seen I've been thinking about it for a while.
And then for whatever reason he did it a second fucking time.
The irony? The first time he did it?? If hed just fucking come to me, I was gonna ask him for a divorce myself. But then he did it, and while it was a huge relief at the time, it would have taken every ounce of willpower not to slap him if I had known then that he was only asking because he went through my messages.
We managed to work things out to maintain some civility for Lucian's sake, and i was okay with that! I was glad we seemed to have cleared the air a little bit.
But then I thought about it more, he never actually apologized to me for anything. He never actually apologized for the messed up stuff he did or said, and he doesnt think he did anything wrong by going through my messages. In fact he thinks he was justified because "I needed to know how they really felt."
And then when I admitted some things I did or said was messed up, he didnt even actually own up to his bullshit. He had to lump me in with him
"Cant we bith admit that we both did and said fucked up shit?"
Like?? That's whaT I WAS JUST DOING. WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING THIS WHOLE TIME???
Then on my way to CO I find out??? He tried to say he does everything himself??? Inwas looking into the requirements to fly with my cat and dog because originally i was going to fly to Colorado. I dont remember which airline I checked, but I checked the requirements for the airline he was gonna send me on, and then he tells my step dad hes tired of doing everything himself.
WHAT???
I looked it up!! I thought I was gonna fly with a certain airline so that's who I fucking looked it up for!!! And hes trying to say he did all the footwork HIMSELF?! If I'd known he was considering another airline I WOULD HAVE LOOKED THAT UP TOO, BUT I DIDNT. Then He has the audacity to say hes tired of being the only one doing all the work??
Are you fucking kidding me????
No, nuh uh. Fuck him. I dont think I hate him surprisingly but FUCK IM LIVID.
I should by all rights hate his fucking guts, but dont, if I did the sight of him would send me into fits of rage as would the mention of his name.
But God damn I am PISSED OFF at him. So fucking pissed off. I mean for all I know hes hacked my account and is reading this right fucking now.
If you are Alex, FUCK YOU for everything you've put me through these last couple years.
fuck him. I don't feel bad for him in the least. I know I'm not fucking perfect, but I fucking tried. I gave him more chances than he fucking deserved. He held me to unfair standards, he expected me to clean house in 2 hours or less, expected me to cook every fucking night, constantly tried to tell me my mental health is harder for him than it is for me, tried to tell my family that he does all the fucking work (okay I cant make phone calls but I can do fucking research you fuck), made me out to be the bad guy constantly, doesn't own up to his bullshit, put me through all this and EXPECTED ME TO APOLOGIZE FOR GOING TO CALIFORNIA, went through my fucking discord, and countless other bullshit.
Yeah no I don't feel bad for him. Not at all, he had plenty of chances to work with me to avoid all this and he chose to ignore it. The only attempts seemed to be when I wasn't with him.
I have a lot of baggage and issues, but I fucking deserve better than that.
If hes in emotional turmoil because of what happened. He brought it on himself. I fuckin tried.
If me not feeling even a little sorry for him makes me a bad person
Then get me my fucking demon costume.
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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years
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Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 20 - Just Kids
Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, what consequences?, 4.9k
@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19
All too soon, two very familiar colors filled the back of the van. Alex’s heart immediately submerged into the dark ocean it always went to in despair, knowing they were all screwed this time. He could already see Bobby pulling onto the shoulder - they didn’t need the sound of sirens to tell them what was up. Willie still seemed like he wasn’t all present, and Alex squeezed his fingers and shook his hands to bring him back to the now. They had really hoped it wouldn’t happen. None of the guys could’ve anticipated the alarm, or that Caleb would be in town when they definitely thought he was gone, or that everything would go wrong.
Not knowing didn’t matter, though. Hours later, all five of them sat inside a holding cell at the LAPD, heads bowed as none of them dared to make eye contact with each other. It was early morning by the time all of them had been processed, and they were all varying levels of exhausted. The time passed at a frustratingly slow pace, although there was no way of telling what time it was. Thankfully, they were the only ones in the cell at the time; if there had been other inmates it would’ve sent Alex’s nerves past their threshold. A guard sat just outside a doorway to the rest of the station while another sat directly outside the cell.
Alex was tempted to wrap his arm around Willie’s shoulders, since he remained dissociated, but the eye contact from the officer sitting across from them was too unsettling. He didn’t like the thought that came through his mind - the one that made him feel like an even worse criminal, even though he knew he wasn’t. Stubbornly, Alex fought to push the feeling away, and settled for putting a hand on Willie’s shoulder. There was almost no reaction, but then Alex saw his brown eyes flicker in his direction and that was all the peace he needed.
“It’s my fault, you guys,” Reggie murmured, barely peering up from where his head hung dejectedly. “I was just so caught up in getting back - ”
“It’s not your fault, Reggie,” Bobby interrupted him gently. “He was waiting for us.”
Luke didn’t speak. His eyes couldn’t leave his empty hands. Alex almost couldn’t look at him; it was a sad image.
They had all been so sure that Caleb was finally out of LA, never spoke about their plans at the studio, had been so careful about the way they acted around him - there was no way. There was just no way that he could’ve been so ready to show up just as they were trying to get the master copies of their album out of his hands. And worse, now Alex had dragged Willie into it, and the guilt mounted even higher from there.
A female officer approached the cell with a clipboard, not bothering to look up from the page she had her eyes glued to.
“Bobby Wilson?”
Bobby raised his head at the sound of his name.
“You have an older brother here to pick you up,” she said monotonously. “You’re free to go.”
The door to the cell was opened and Bobby made his way out in slight confusion. He threw a conflicted look back toward Luke.
“Did he say if I was taking anyone with me?”
“He came for Bobby Wilson and Bobby Wilson only.” Her tone shut down any further questions that he had. Looking back apologetically, his shoulders slumped as Luke shook his head.
“Don’t worry about it,” Luke said, although not as assuring as he likely wanted to be. “I’ll be fine.”
Alex watched as Bobby’s eyes lingered for a few seconds on Reggie, who was still hunched forward with his gaze fixed on the concrete floor. It seemed so uncharacteristic for him, but Alex understood he was probably shutting down at the mere thought of returning home. The emotions ran high enough in his home as it was. They hadn’t really been given options as for who got called when they’d been brought to the police department. Finally, Bobby turned and took the car keys and wallet that had been confiscated and disappeared.
Luke moved closer to Reggie and put a hand on his back, and he began muttering something to him. They were just far enough away that Alex couldn’t properly hear what they were saying.
“Sheldon’s gonna be so freaked out when I get home,” Willie spoke suddenly. Alex turned to see him finally looking around the cell, fully aware of his surroundings.
“Hopefully he’ll be okay,” he assured. “They can only hold us for up to twelve hours; that’s what they said.”
Willie looked at him and nodded, eyes once again immediately training themselves onto empty space.
“How are you doing?” Alex asked carefully. Willie didn’t move his eyes, but he appeared to be brought back into focus again.
“I just have all these images running in my mind,” he said. “Things he did. Things I did. He decided to pretend I was dead rather than deal with my existence. It’s like he was already trying to bury me by taking away any connection to my past. Sometimes I wonder what I was like before the accident. What if I deserved this?”
For a minute, Alex merely sat with his jaw agape, as if he’d been slapped upon hearing what Willie was saying.
“Wha- ? No. Willie, that can’t be right,” he started. “You couldn’t possibly deserve any of this, no matter what happened in the past.”
Willie shook his head.
“I was in the foster system, Alex,” he argued. “From the few things I know, I was passed around a little bit. Caleb was someone who took difficult kids; he had a reputation with social services. I wanted him to be the bad guy because I got a taste of something better, but when I look around, Alex? I have no one to call. Not even family.”
It was the first time Alex had seen tears well up in his eyes since the night at the Stratosphere, but he felt that any comfort he wanted to offer wouldn’t be accepted. All he could do was look back at this beautiful boy who deserved far more than he believed, brow furrowed in silent protest. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Willie had a point. There was a possibility that the guys’ dislike of the man had become biased based on Willie’s story, as unintentional as it may have been. Still, Alex refused to believe that it was because Willie was the real menace.
“Look, we may never know the truth,” he started, trying to look at him as directly as he could. “But I’m the one who got you here; I take responsibility for that. And sometimes having someone to call doesn’t mean they’re there for you.”
Willie gave him a look that was mixed, but he mostly read concern. Frankly, Alex wasn’t sure what his own parents’ reaction would be, but he didn’t dare hope for any sort of understanding.
“Reggie Peters?” The same female officer approached the cell again with her clipboard.
Reggie turned away from his conversation with Luke, sucking in a nervous breath.
“Your mother is here to take you home; you’re free to go.”
Pressing his lips together anxiously, Reggie simply bowed his head as he was escorted out the same way Bobby had been. Luke promptly spread himself out along the bench, pulling his beanie over his face.
For a while, Alex let his mind wander as he kept his hand resting on Willie’s shoulder. What Willie had said made him want to reevaluate the whole situation with Caleb. It wasn’t that he thought Willie was as bad as he said he was, but it stood to be examined. He remembered the difference between his short first impression of the man at the diner, and the second time he’d seen him. He even remembered his own reasoning - how it was possible that Caleb could come off as so severe while running a diner but maintain such charisma while serving guests.
A pang of memory also came as Alex had noted he didn’t seem like a straight man and after months of actually working with him there was even greater evidence toward that notion. It had been what made Alex want to trust him in the beginning. Finding an adult figure who offered him a break from being constantly vigilant about the way he naturally felt had been a blessing. Not even Alex could ignore that. However, something still told him that just because they had that in common didn’t make Caleb trustworthy.
“Luke Patterson?” All three boys looked up in surprise when they heard the officer’s voice a third time. Luke clutched his beanie to his chest, confused most of all as he sat up from the bench. Instead of announcing who had come for him, the officer stepped aside as two familiar faces came toward the cell.
Julie Molina and her Aunt Victoria looked at the boys, both with stern expressions.
“Julie?” Luke uttered in surprise, standing up from the bench and slowly moving toward her. 
Folding her arms, Julie had her eyes fixed on Luke with a brand of disappointment that appeared to burn like acid. She flashed the same look toward Alex for a moment and he was duly stung. Luke could make all the sad, pleading puppy faces he wanted, but ultimately was struck dumb by knowing he had no room to speak.
“We have a lot to talk about,” Julie told him, the chastising tone not to be missed. Luke’s face fell and he hung his head, looking back toward Alex with a similar apologetic look as Bobby had given.
Alex caught Victoria also looking at him. It was still stern, but more in telling him she was let down. Why it compounded his already guilty feelings even more, he couldn’t understand. Her expression changed, however, as she looked at Willie next to him, as though she were trying to recall where she recognized him. Immediately forgetting his guilt for a moment, Alex perked up and subtly pointed a finger toward him, mouthing the name “Willie!” to her. She looked at him incredulously, and it was a shame the officer was already escorting them out with Luke, because he was sure she had questions.
“Was that Julie’s mom?” Willie asked. Startled, Alex looked at him and cleared his throat.
“Ah, no, that was her aunt,” he told him. “Her mom is still in the hospital.”
“Oh,” Willie replied, casting he gaze to where they had left with a look of empathy. “That really sucks.”
“Yeah,” Alex agreed.
For the second surprise that night (morning? Alex couldn’t tell), and for the fourth time, the female officer returned.
“William Taylor?”
Willie looked at Alex in utter perplexity, and then back at the officer.
“Um…” he began saying. Before he finished, Flynn came around the corner accompanied by a woman both boys assumed was her mother.
“Hey big bro!” she said in a highly exaggerated tone, sending them a gigantic wink with a grin that was very out of place. “Looks like you messed up big time mister!”
Willie could only stare back in shock. Alex was too busy trying not to laugh at her poor acting skills. It was so obvious that she and Willie weren’t family.
“Hey...sis,” Willie said finally, still unsure what was happening just then.
Holding onto the bars and leaning close into the holding cell, Flynn dropped the grin immediately.
“Julie tipped us off and Alex’s parents aren’t coming, so we’re doing you guys a big favor,” she said to them in a low voice, laying on the irritation and topping it off with a tilt of her head and a smile that suggested murder.
Promptly, Willie stood up and was let out of the cell, still looking at Flynn and her mom in bewilderment. Alex sat with his hands folded in uncertainty.
“Him too,” Flynn’s mom nodded toward him. The officer opened the door for him and Alex sighed as he came out, realizing just how high his nerves had really been while sitting there for the past few hours. He could suddenly feel the blood rushing into his fingers again.
As he and Willie followed Flynn and her mom outside, he wasn’t surprised that his parents had opted not to come get him. If he guessed right, his father would’ve refused to go in some backward attempt to show tough love, and his mother would’ve been barred from going herself to show she agreed with the choice. Both he and Willie thanked Flynn’s mom as they sat in the back seat of her van.
Flynn turned around in the passenger seat as they drove off and Alex knew what was coming.
“How many times am I gonna save your ass?” she directed at Willie.
“Language, honey,” her mom warned. Flynn rolled her eyes, but backed down a little.
Willie smiled nervously at her.
“Third time’s a charm?” he offered with little confidence.
“There better not be a third time,” she cautioned. “Seriously, what were you thinking?”
Alex opened his mouth to respond but she put up a hand.
“Actually, save it. Anything I have to say is just what Julie will say to you guys later, and she’s the one who’s really mad at you. Right now, I’ve got permission to skip school and I’m not gonna waste it lecturing you two.”
Sharing a look with Willie, both boys were happy to at least not have to endure Julie’s wrath right that minute. It was only imaginable what Luke was going through at the moment.
“So, how did you know I was there?” Willie asked.
Flynn leaned back into the correct position in her seat and took in a deep breath.
“Julie’s aunt is supposed to be on sabbatical, but apparently she can’t stop doing little bits of work here and there. She’s an investigator. Anyway, I guess she was doing something at ungodly hours on a Sunday night for God knows why, and she was already in the station when Sunset Gets-Caught-Being-Stupid was brought in. I guess she tried to make sure nobody called the Pattersons because she promised Julie she won’t, and she found out there was a fifth kid with no emergency contact so she had Julie call me, and I had to wake up at six-thirty this morning to an angry Julie and while I, for one, don’t care that you were trying to steal something, the way y’all did it was just so dumb, I can’t even stand to look at y’all - ”
“Okay, we get it,” Alex interrupted.
“But the important thing is,” Flynn continued. “We can’t take you guys home. Sorry.”
“Wait, why not?” Alex asked.
“I have one hour before I need to be in the office,” Flynn’s mom told them. “So I’m putting my girl in charge of you two for the day.”
Flynn looked back at them smugly.
“Oh, I’m putting you two to work,” she said, not hiding how much she enjoyed being in a position of power.
Alex could only gesture with his hands in a manner of saying “ah, well,” and sighing in acceptance. This was loads better than dealing with his parents for the time being. And Willie seemed to have finally broken entirely out of the strange trance he’d been in ever since they’d seen Caleb.
“Do we get a nap first?” Willie asked. “‘Cuz we’ve been awake all night.”
Flynn’s eyebrows shot up in realization and she flopped back into her seat again with a sigh.
“That’s fair.”
It was well past noon by the time Alex opened his eyes. They had thanked Mrs. Taylor and then immediately passed out on the living room couch. Barely gaining his bearings, he found Willie still zonked on the opposite arm of the couch. He couldn’t help but admire his sleeping form, so much calmer than any other time he knew. The sunlight streaming in from the blinds glanced perfectly off his cheekbones and highlighted the rich brown tones in his hair. Alex had been struck by how handsome he was from the second they met at the diner, but he’d hardly gotten a moment to properly appreciate how beautiful he was.
Somehow there was something so lonely about him that brought an ache to Alex’s chest. Their conversation from earlier replayed in his mind. Willie really seemed to believe he didn’t belong anywhere when the only thing Alex wanted in the whole world was to keep him tightly in his arms. He really hoped to show Willie how much he meant to him some day. 
“Oh my god, you are so in love with him,” he heard Flynn saying as she stood at the edge of the living room. He was too tired to give a proper response and could only turn to her still wearing a look of fondness. “Oh my god, stop, you are so precious!”
All Alex could do was lightly chuckle in return. Flynn tilted her head adoringly.
“And to think I was there from the beginning,” she reminisced.
Alex had a realization hit.
“I never said thank you, did I?”
She shrugged.
“No. But now you get to pay me back by doing all the chores my mom left for you.”
Heaving a sigh, Alex sank back into the couch and pressed his lips together, already reeling from exhaustion.
“Yep,” he muttered before reaching over and grabbing Willie’s hand, gently shaking it to kindly wake him up.
“Sheldon...stop,” Willie groaned as his tired face pinched together against the light. Alex giggled as he leaned over and tried shaking his shoulder instead.
“Hey, it’s me,” he said in a low voice, watching as Willie’s eyes fluttered open and immediately gazed back into his face. The absolutely enamoured smile that spread from cheek to cheek as he took in Alex’s face framed with his hair hanging down was more than Alex could take, and he felt honest-to-God butterflies in his stomach.
“Hey,” Willie murmured, his voice a pitch lower than usual from being asleep with just the right amount of vocal fry. It took all of Alex’s strength not to smother him right there on the couch.
“I really do hate to break this up, you lovebirds,” Flynn told them. “But it’s time to get to work!” She clapped her hands and the boys clambered off the couch, still sharing admiring looks at each other. She led them through her house, listing off the many things her mom had demanded: cleaning bathrooms, weeding the garden, and mowing the lawn were all there.
“And last but not least,” Flynn was saying as she led them upstairs. She flung the door open to an unfurnished room with bare walls and plastic covering the floor. “Painting!”
Alex saw Willie’s face transform from bleary task mode to shining with joy at the prospect of getting to paint. He wasn’t sure what it was, but everything Willie did was making him fall even further in a way he hadn’t thought possible. They were doing household chores for heaven’s sake. It made him consider doing all the rest of the chores just to let Willie do something he enjoyed. After seeing his reaction to Caleb, Alex thought it would lift his spirits more than anything.
“I say we divide and conquer then?” he suggested, putting a hand on Willie’s shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. Willie tore his eyes away from the unpainted walls to give Alex a puzzled look.  Before he could ask questions, though, Alex simply looked him directly in the eyes and nodded toward the room before them, insisting he stay and paint without saying a word. He saw Willie’s expression soften and one corner of his mouth turn up in a delighted smirk once he understood the message.
“Okay,” Willie muttered to him, facing the bare walls with newfound glee.
Willie watched Alex head back down the stairs and he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with gratitude. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend as much time with him as possible - looking into that angelic face as he’d woken up had spun his head more than anything else in his life - but it was just the thought of how he was suddenly in Alex’s world and it was so...different. It vaguely reminded him of hanging out with everyone after the show at the Pearl, but it appeared to be so much deeper and so tight-knit. Julie and Flynn and their families went so far as to stick out their necks for the guys when they really had messed up, and it wasn’t even an obligation. Even being made to do housework for people who were still practically strangers to him felt like he was being taken in with open arms. He had the intruding thought that he’d eventually wear out his welcome.
“So, are we painting everything the same?” he asked Flynn, rubbing his hands together. Flynn wagged a finger and smiled with excitement.
“No,” she teased. Going over to a corner, she lifted two cans of paint, handing one of them to him. Looking at the swatch smeared on the top of the lid, Willie smiled to see a lovely teal, and then sunflower yellow on the can in Flynn’s hands.
“Oooh yes, these are some good choices,” he said, rolling up a sleeve with his free hand. All the worried thoughts could be put aside as they began popping the lids off and mixing the paint. “Have you got a hair tie I could borrow?”
“There is something about a boy asking me that question that just feels amazing,” Flynn commented as she briefly headed out to fetch one. Giggling at her remark, Willie lifted the paint mixer and watched the color drip into the can in fascination. There was something familiar about the notion of painting that made him wonder if it was something he’d done often before. Before forgetting. Would putting the brush in his hand unleash some kind of muscle memory or sense of nostalgia for something he didn’t know he had? Flynn returned with the hair tie and handed it to him, and he immediately pulled his hair back into a small bun.
“Alright, so these walls are gonna be the teal green color,” Flynn instructed, pointing toward the walls furthest from the window. “And these over here are gonna be yellow. I’ll start with the yellow and meet you at the corner, sound good?” Willie nodded at her as she moved her paint supplies over to the opposite side of the room, putting her braids up into a ponytail as well.
“Copy that,” Willie replied.
Once the paint was all mixed they got to work, both silently focused on the task at hand. For a while, all that could be heard was the repetitive swipe of brushes against the texture of the wall. There had been no sweeping rush like Willie imagined, but a gentle comfort quickly took over as he watched the color fill the empty space. He heard a loud buzzing outside and for a moment, peeked out the window to see Alex steady at work mowing the lawn below.
“So,” Flynn started, almost making him jump as he turned his attention to her. “It looks like our skater boy likes to paint; do you do art too? I saw your face.”
Chuckling, Willie hadn’t realized he’d gotten himself stuck in a situation that warranted friendly banter. Out of all of Alex’s friends, though, she was the one he’d seen the most, now that he thought about it. Despite how aggressive she had appeared at first, he really enjoyed her energy.
“Yeah, actually I draw. A lot,” he told her.
“Nice!” she nodded. “What kind of stuff do you draw?”
“People...places,” he said thoughtfully as he continued painting. “Memories.”
Flynn kept nodding, her expression becoming more pensive. “Cool.... Memories are interesting. Did you do a lot of cool things when you were little?”
Willie chewed on his tongue for a minute, realizing she still didn’t know. Even now that he’d been away from Caleb for a while and Alex’s reaction had been so kind, sometimes speaking of his amnesia still felt like something that wasn’t allowed. Regardless, it was a pretty important detail.
“I actually don’t know,” he stated. Flynn’s eyebrows knit together in response. “I was in an accident a little over a year ago, and I don’t remember anything - well, I remember a few things, but not a lot. Whatever I can figure out, I try to draw it so it stays with me.”
She gave him a long sympathetic look. Every time it was different; Alex had been a little shocked but then really sweet, Bessie had merely brushed over it like it wasn’t anything crazy, and now Flynn had her big brown eyes staring with such sadness in them. Again, he wondered how much he had really lost along with his memory. It seemed to be a thing everyone else could properly mourn, knowing the difference, but he couldn’t no matter how much he tried.
“That’s really awful,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
Willie only nodded, accepting her words.
“It sucks, but I manage,” he said. They both resumed painting after noticing they had stopped for a moment.
“I mean, you made it here, which is pretty amazing,” Flynn told him. “Well, not here as in we just picked you up from the police station, but you know, you left Vegas and have your sweet job at the record shop.”
He shrugged, trying to be casual. Those thoughts were getting to him today in a way they hadn’t ever before. The ones that said he was still messing everything up anyway. He was just in a different city with a different job. It was great that he’d miraculously found Alex, which had been his entire goal, but now that he’d passed that step in his plan, life went on. And it hadn’t really become so different, now that Caleb had his hands on things again. There were still so many questions about that as well, because he really did wonder if maybe he had made everything out to be worse in his mind. Caleb had been his guardian for three years and Willie was one of numerous kids - he couldn’t be that insidious, could he?
“I said, ‘you’re dripping paint on your shirt!’” Flynn repeated to him, enunciating loudly and snapping him out of his train of thought.
“Oh,” he started, looking down at his now ruined shirt and then continuing to work on the wall. He could live with it.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.
He shook his head. “It’s nothing. I just keep thinking.”
“Uh huh. Whole lot of nothing to think about in there.”
Willie shot her a slightly wounded look. She rolled her eyes.
“Sarcasm, sorry. Looks like you have so much on your mind you can’t even function. So what’s up?”
He looked at her, unsure where to begin. It was great that she seemed easy to trust, because it made him less hesitant about talking, but he didn’t want to turn the painting session into something else. His mouth betrayed him though.
“I just keep thinking that maybe I have everything wrong and I brought all the guys down with me,” he confessed. Flynn didn’t respond, but listened quietly. “I met Alex and it was amazing! And I got it in my head that maybe being here with him would make everything better. But it looks like I’m just a bad influence.”
Flynn had nodded along until that last sentence, to which she tilted her head and squinted.
“Hold up,” she said. “Alex told me Caleb was your guardian, right?”
Willie nodded.
“Who also told Alex you were dead for no good reason?”
He nodded again.
“And you think you’re the bad guy here?” She had set down her brush and placed her hands on her hips.
Taking in a deep breath, Willie prepared to explain.
“Well - ”
Flynn simply held up both hands to shut him up.
“Willie. Buddy. You’re just a kid.”
You’re just a kid.
The words echoed around in his brain for a little bit as he let them settle in. She was right. Somehow he’d lost sight of that.
“You made some mistakes, I get it,” she continued. “But you’re not the bad guy. You’re still figuring things out. Actually, you know what I first thought of you? Well, actually, my first thought was that you were some creep who was trying to get into my friend’s concert, but after that, you know who I saw? A really good guy trying to show someone he cared. And bad people don’t do that.”
For a long time Willie just stared back at her in amazement. Somehow Flynn had managed to completely obliterate any other self-deprecating thought he had. It was the most human he’d felt all day. There was a sticky thud as his brush landed on plastic and he rushed to throw his arms around her.
“Oh!” she cried in surprise, slowly accepting the hug in return and patting his back. Willie squeezed her tightly and then stepped back, chuckling to himself as a small wave of embarrassment hit.
“Julie has good taste in friends,” he told her. “You’re really good at those pep talks.”
Flynn beat her chest with her palm and graciously took the compliment.
“Thank you.”
Willie picked up his brush again and continued working. He almost laughed when he had the thought that while he technically already had a boyfriend, Flynn was his first real friend. He was going to make that count.
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Sometime in the first few months of 2000, I dropped Stan Lee a line saying I’d love to do some work for Stan Lee Media, Stan’s well-publicized and multi-staffed dot-com company, if he could ever use me. He replied that, while he’d like to work with me again, I would’ve had to be around L.A. to work for SLM, but that, by coincidence, he really needed a writer to work with him on the SPIDER-MAN comic strip… to plot out and do the first-draft script of the seven-days-a-week King Features strip. I said that sounded fine to me (even though I’d never really been wild about writing Spidey compared to the F.F., Avengers, Conan, etc.). He replied with a chuckle that maybe I should wait till I heard his offer, because the money was so minuscule… just $300 a week. I laughed, and told him that he had no idea how little money it cost me to live on my 40-acre place in the middle of South Carolina. The mortgage and both our vehicles were paid off, so Dann and I had no expenses except what we spent month-to-month. So a deal was quickly struck, and I went to work, with my first strip (a Monday, of course) appearing on July 17, 2000.
As it turned out, although I never got a raise in 18 1/2 years I basically ghost-wrote the strip (though, until recent years, with his often hands-on editing), it was a great gig. I spent maybe two days a month writing four weeks’ worth of strips, and another day 2 or 3 times a year doing outlines for upcoming storylines.
After Stan cut back his activities a few years ago, following installation of his pacemaker, etc., I worked primarily with his longtime assistant, Michael Kelly, with some indirect verbal input from Stan, and in some ways I liked that even better, since Stan and I were only about 80% on the same page as to what made a good comic strip. Despite his well-known (and correct) views on how important the writing was to the success of Marvel Comics from 1961 on, he would often talk about how it was the artwork that sold the strip. I didn’t think that reflected the realities of the situation, particularly after John Romita left the strip a few years after it began, and as the printing of the strips grew smaller and smaller. Stan’s brother Larry Lieber was a good journeyman penciler (and Alex Saviuk considerably better), but the artists didn’t really have the scope, especially in the dailies, to do the kind of artwork that was going to excite readers the way, say, Milt Caniff once had in Terry and the Pirates. The sight of Spidey or Dr. Octopus in a strip might draw people in, but the writing had to bring people back, day after day, since Spidey and Peter and MJ and Doc Ock would always look basically the same, squeezed into small panels–with no “full-page spreads” like in the comicbooks. And yes, I wrote a bit more text and dialogue than he did… but that was partly because, otherwise, I wasn’t sure people could really follow the strip from day to day… or at least, no new readers would be brought in if it was hard to start reading the strip at any given point.
Mostly, though, Stan and I got along fine. For the most part, he liked what I submitted, accepted most (not all) of my ideas for stories… and until a few years ago often “suggested” (or insisted upon) alterations in them. For some years, he would rewrite a panel or balloon here and there, or even more… while other dailies or Sundays would sail through without a single word change.
The major change I tried to effect, after the first “Spider-Man” movie, was to go back to a time when MJ and Peter weren’t married. Stan agreed, and seemed halfway enthusiastic about the change at first, and we did one whole storyline (involving Electro) that way. But then Stan changed his mind, and I saw at once that I wouldn’t be able to change it back. So I wrote a “Dallas”-type scene in which Peter woke up (after going to sleep in Aunt May’s apartment as a single young man) to find himself married (again) to Mary Jane… and that’s the way we kept it from then on. Actually, I was increasingly happy with that, as an alternative to the bouncing around of the comicbooks, in which MJ and Peter totally forgot each other and their marriage, and who-knows-what occurred. Left increasingly to my own devices, and building on MJ’s modeling career in the comicbooks, I gradually took her from working in a computer store to becoming a Broadway star and movie actress, playing a super-heroine called “Marvella” (before the female Captain Marvel was a big deal, or maybe even was around at all)…but I kept her and Peter, somewhat incongruously, in their relatively small Manhattan apartment (except when they were in L.A., of course)… although they occasionally shopped around for something bigger.
In recent years, I had taken increasingly to using guest stars: Wolverine, Iron Man, Thor, Black Widow, Ant-Man, most recently Iron Fist and Luke Cage. We never bothered to try to follow the current Marvel continuity, which Stan didn’t want to do… the more so, I suppose, as from time to time it was given increasingly to violent wrenches and re-starts, such as when MJ and Peter were abruptly uncoupled. If there were eventually several Spider-Man universes in the comics (with different Spider-Men, a Spider-Girl, whatever), well, our comic strip universe was yet another one… just about the only one, in recent years, in which Peter and MJ were a married couple, continuing the original direction of decades of the comicbooks. We were all kind of proud of that.
When the strip died (i.e., was killed), the Mammon Theatre where MJ’s hit play was running was shuttered by damage (in a Spidey-related fight, of course), and “Marvella II” had flopped, so the two of them took off to Australia for a vacation, and I wrote a couple of weeks of a continuity (along with a full outline approved by Michael Kelly) involving the villain the Kangaroo. Then Marvel decided to kill the strip and not print the final couple of weeks, and I declined to rewrite the last published strip or two to turn it into a “goodbye” strip. My feeling was that I had accepted the snuffing of the strip, and didn’t take it personally… it was just a business move (although when I was told the strip was being killed I wasn’t told—perhaps because those who informed me didn’t know–that Marvel was planning to either revive the strip with a new team or to start a new strip that might not be a Spidey strip per se, but more the equivalent of DC’s latter-day successor to its Superman strip, The World’s Greatest Heroes, which had featured the whole panoply of DC heroes). I felt that I had written what I had written for the strip, and they were welcome to do whatever they wanted to with the script (as long as I was paid for what I had done, naturally), but I preferred never to touch it again. When I’m done with something, I’m done with something.
Alex Saviuk, bless him, graciously reworked the final strip to show the two of us in it, and to add a “‘Nuff Said!” headline on the Daily Bugle. He was perhaps a better sport about things than I was… and I admire him for that, since he had spent well over two decades penciling the Sunday Spider-Man and then had only recently been promoted to seven-days-a-week penciler… only to see the strip almost immediately canceled so that he was out of a regular gig. I hope he finds one. He deserves it.
Naturally, I was sorry to see the strip end (the more so because it signaled the finale of the only long-lasting adventure strip launched in the past half century), just at the time when I could finally have begun to receive on-strip credit for the work I did… although of course I did have that for two years on the Conan the Barbarian comic strip at the end of the 1970s. But at least, once Stan wrote vaguely, maybe a decade ago, in his introduction to the hardcover volume Marvel Visionaries: Roy Thomas, that I “help[ed]” him with the Spidey strip, everybody with half a brain knew what I was contributing to the strip anyway. That didn’t bother Stan, and it didn’t bother me. The strip was Stan’s, and I was happy to co-write or write it under his name… although I wouldn’t have been willing to go on writing it anonymously once he had passed on, had that alternative been suggested to me.
Working with Stan and Michael Kelly (as well as with Larry, Alex, and the ever-amiable Joe Sinnott–with Joe spelled occasionally by Jim Amash or Terry Austin) on the Spider-Man strip was an enjoyable experience, and I’m grateful to Stan for offering me that “pittance” back in 2000. The strip became the last of our many collaborations of one sort or other, which began when, in early July of 1965, I inherited a Modeling with Millie story that he had previously talked over (I suppose) with penciler Stan Goldberg.
Best wishes,
Roy Thomas
The LAST SPIDER-MAN Daily newspaper strip! It’s been a fabulous time for me being part of such an iconic character for so long. I’ve drawn Spider-Man in comics and newspapers for 32 years in a row and unless I get another crack at him NEXT year that run will come to an end. But I am digressing a bit; I’m here to talk about the newspaper strip which for me OFFICIALLY started in the spring of 1977 probably around April-May. I say OFFICIALLY because back in 1980 , John Romita, Sr. who was still drawing the entire strip at that time called me and asked if I had the time to ghost lay out some Sunday strips for him since he was incredibly busy with everything else he had on his plate for Marvel. John lived ( and still lives, I believe ) in the town next to mine on Long Island when I was there and I actually met him about 10 years earlier since I was in high school with his sons. ( that’s right, I went to high school with JR, Jr.— he IS four years younger than me to the day and when I was a senior he was a freshman and today looks 20 years younger than me!) I was in a club in school with the older son Victor who over time found out I was interested in drawing comics and came to me one day and said “… my father draws comics — would you like to meet him?” Of course I knew that but I would never impose. We met soon after that. What happened after that is another story!
BACK TO THE STRIP: I did at least 4 Sunday layouts for John on vellum tracing paper and he took it to the next level and beyond yet saving him a ton of time. I was really happy and excited just to be called to assist him , first of all, and then get the privilege and honor of working with one of my comic book artist “heroes”. IDW just recently published that volume of reprints and it was fun to see our collaborations again.
FORWARD to 1997: Ralph Macchio at Marvel calls me up and asks if I would be interested in penciling the Spider-Man Sunday strip since fill-in penciler old time artist Fred Kida wanted to leave. Of course I agreed — i would get to work directly with Stan Lee and Joe Sinnott! I put a package together of my Web Of Spider-Man and Spider-Man Adventures books and sent them to Stan. His assistant Mike Kelly called a few days later and said Stan liked the work but wanted to see how I would handle a “horizontal” strip in a six panel grid format. I admit I was a bit surprised by that request since with my 20 years of experience at that time I figured i showed what I can do in just the comic books. But I went ahead and penciled a six panel episode of an encounter with Spider-Man saving JJonah Jameson from a few muggers with the end panel having an ungrateful JJJ waving his fist at Spidey as he swung away from the scene. I sent that in and a few days days after returning home from running errands I found a message from Stan Lee on my answering machine. “ Hi, Alex… this is Stan Lee. I LOVE your work and I’d love to work with you. It doesn’t pay that much but think of the GLORY!” Actually the page rate was as much as I was making at the time so i couldn’t complain. No raise in 22 years ( but from what I understand things havent changed that much for mainstream freelancers even today. ) I got my first script a few days later and in May 1977 I penciled a Sunday in the middle of a Kingpin storyline which was inked by Joe Sinnott , lettered by Stan Sakai and was published in August 1977. Sundays were always drawn 3 months ahead of publication. What a rush to see those preview Xeroxes and then the colored version in the newspaper( which I had to hunt down ! There were no papers in Florida where I lived carrying the strip but the local Barnes & Noble sold out of town newspapers so I managed to find one that published the Sundays )
FORWARD to Feb 2003: Got a call asking me if I could ink a week of Dailies drawn by Larry Lieber because inker John Tartaglione needed to go to the hospital for a procedure. John ended up being OK after that week but I had a blast inking Larry’s pencils since I really never inked anybody else other my own pencils for my Web Of Spider-Man covers. Sadly that November , I got a call that John Tartaglione has passed away at 82 because he lost the fight with his particular illness. At the same time I was asked if I would be able to take over the inking of the Dailies. Affirmative….
FORWARD to July 2018: Larry Lieber wants to retire at 87 after 25+ years ( maybe 30+? ) and I inherit the penciling duties! Pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I thought the Stan Lee would live forever especially since a few years ago when he got his pacemaker he felt he was the next Tony Stark and felt stronger than ever. Unfortunately and sadly as we all know , that didnt happen and Marvel decided the strip shouldn’t go on without STAN LEE at the helm. But I am forever in Stan Lee’s debt for having me join him, Joe Sinnott, Roy Thomas and letterers Stan Sakai, Kenny Lopez, and Janice Chiang for all these years in bringing our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man to our readers each and every day for these months and years! It’s been a joy, an honor and privilege which I will never forget!
( I do want to add that since since the Sundays were done so far in advance there are TWO more Sundays that followed March 17 that we did together that are now considered to be officially UNPUBLISHED! )”
-Alex Saviuk
P.S. Putting aside how Roy got his timeline mixed up because the back int ime stuff happened in 2008 not 2002, and just so you heard it louder at the back, Stan Lee and Roy Thomas 100% didn’t care fro OMD and actively sought to keep the marriage in the comics.
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⌜     demi     male     ,     he/him     |     creep     by     radiohead     ,     bijou     movie     theater     ,     the     pariah     ⌟     ⏤     hey     ,     isn’t     that     FORSYTHE     PENDLETON     JONES     III          ?          the     TWENTY     -     THREE     year     old     NORTH     SIDER     has     lived     in     town     for     their     WHOLE     LIFE     ,     and     has     always     denied     their     resemblance     to     ALEX     FITZALAN     .     they’ve     been     a     photojournalist     &     aspiring     author     for     a     while     now     ,     and     i     guess     it     makes     sense     --- -     they’ve     always     seemed     so     CANNY     &     ASTUTE     ,     though     i     have     heard     that     they     can     be     pretty     TACITURN     &     CAVILLOUS     .     did     you     hear     about     how     they     STOLE     THE     IDEA     FOR     HIS     FIRST     MANUSCRIPT     FROM     AN     ONLINE     POST          ?          i     always     knew     something     was     up     with     them     .
disclaimer  before  i  get  right  into  the  shits:  i’m  going  very  canon  divergent  here .  i  hate  the  way  ras  wrote  jughead ,  and  i’m  going  to  fucking  fix  it .  a  lot  of  my  interpretation  is  going  to  be  based  off  headcanons .  i  just   ...   i  hate  cold  sprouts  and  riverdale’s  pathetic  attempt  at  jughead ,  and  i’m  fixing  that  shit  rn .
anyway   !   my  name’s  van ,  i’m  20 ,  i’m  a  full  slut  for  aesthetics .  i  use  she/they  pns ,  write  out  of  the  hellscape  that  is  aest  and  i’m  a  full - time  student  doing  a  double  degree  in  law  and  liberal  arts ,  majoring  in  criminology  and  minoring  in  polisci .  full  disclosure  abt  the  way  i  write:  i  tend  to  use  heavily  edited  gifs / icons  and  heavily  formatted  text   --- -   if  either  of  those  bother  you ,  please  let  me  know  and  i’ve  got  no  problem  changing  them .  i  use  those  because  they’re  my  personal  preferences ,  but  accessibility  and  ease  always  comes  first .  in  saying  that ,  i’m  done   --- -  so  let’s  crack  on  to  this  little  shit   !
born  on  may  the  fourth  of  1996 ,  jughead  jones  is  the  firstborn  son  of  fp  and  gladys  jones ,  notorious  southside  serpents .  they’re  not  wealthy   --- -   this  is  made  evident  when  jughead  is  born ,  not  in  a  hospital ,  but  in  the  back  of  a  beat - up  car  that  neither  of  his  parents  technically  own .  they  weren’t  planning  on  having  kids ,  but  fate  is  a  funny  motherfucker ,  and  so  it  goes .  fp  claims  naming  rights ,  and  that’s  how  forsythe  pendleton  jones  iii  is  brought  into  the  world ,  kicking  and  screaming  and  making  too  much  of  a  fuss .  some  things  never  change .
he  doesn’t  stay  an  only  child  for  long .  forsythia  parthenia  jones  (  again ,  naming  habits  are  likely  crack - induced  and  entirely  unfortunate  in  nature  )  is  born  in  august  of  2000 .  she’s  got  health  issues  from  the  beginning  but  the  minute  a  near - 5  year  old  jughead  jones  lays  eyes  on  his  younger  sister ,  he’s  besotted .  even  at  such  a  tender  age ,  he  feels  a  genuine  drive  to  protect  the  wailing  little  ball  that’s  pressed  flush  against  mother’s  flesh .
childhood  is  an  interesting  adventure ,  spent  shuttling  between  the  north  side ,  the  south  side ,  hospitals  --- -   rinse ,  repeat .  it’s  a  strange  existence ,  but  he  doesn’t  mind  it .  he  shows  a  proclivity  for  reading  early  on   ;   whether  it’s  nature  or  nurture  is  anyone’s  guess ,  but  sticking  your  nose  in  a  book  is  the  most  convenient  method  of  escapism  one  could  imagine .  he  takes  a  liking  to  truman  capote  after  picking  it  up  during  a  hospital  visit ,  finds  himself  lost  in  the  magic  of  breakfast  at  tiffany’s .  it’s  around  this  time  that  he  starts  wondering  if  he  could  write  books  like  this ,  if  he  could  do  something  to  this  effect .  
he  was  a  socially  awkward  kid  for  the  most  part   --- -   distant ,  not  always  as  present  as  you’d  like ,  perpetual  pre - pubescent  loner  with  a  head  permanently  affixed  in  the  clouds .  doesn’t  help  that  a  generally  scruffy ,  unkempt  appearance  doesn’t  quite  gel  with  the  neurotically  gift - wrapped ,  glossy ,  picture - perfect  image  of  a  classroom  that  was  presented  in  riverdale  primary  school   ;   he  scared  the  other  kids ,  unnerved  them  with  a  quick  mouth  and  a  dreamy  look  in  the  eye  alike .  he  didn’t  mind  not  having  many  friends ,  it  was  just  something  he  got  used  to   --- -   naturally ,  though ,  this  changes  when  archie  andrews  and  betty  cooper  enter  the  picture .  the  world  is  forever  changed   ;   the  world  turned  upside  down .
it’s  a  strange  front  they  present:  perky  girl - next - door  betty  cooper ,  golden  boy  archie  andrews ,  and   --- -   and  what   ?   what  glimmering  adjectives  does  he  preface  himself  with   ?   what  praise  befits  the  ugly  duckling  in  a  trio’s  worth  of  cherubs   ?   he  doesn’t  know ,  therefore  he  doesn’t  bother .  there’s  a  conflict  that  rages ,  a  lack  of  understanding  as  to  where  he  fits  into  the  picture  and  well  into  his  adolescence ,  he  genuinely  believed  that  betty  and  archie  only  entertain  his  presence  as  a  joke ,  something  to  laugh  about  later  on  in  the  piece .  they  reassure  him  it’s  not ,  but  suspicion  lingers  regardless .
that  fateful  fourth  of  july  changes  so  much  for  jughead .  his  plans  for  that  particular  summer  included  movie  marathons  with  jellybean ,  a  few  joints  smoked  in  the  bathroom ,  a  foray  into  writing  his  first  play   --- -   but  in  the  blink  of  an  eye ,  his  childhood  best  friends  are  dragging  him  into  a  murder  investigation  that  makes  his  stomach  turn  and  his  trust  in  a  town  that  once  seemed  so  wholesome  evaporate  almost  overnight .  sixteen  is  too  young  to  feel  the  reverberations  of  such  a  horror ,  and  they  leave  irreparable  scars  on  good  ol’  jug .  little  does  the  poor  shit  know ,  though ,  that  it’s  about  to  get  worse .
hal  cooper ,  disguised  as  ‘  the  black  hood  ’  ,  goes  on  a  killing  spree  and  wipes  out  some  of  riverdale’s  most  beloved .  his  attempt  on  fred  andrews  is  enough  to  make  jughead  want  to  pack  his  bags ,  heft  a  protesting  jb  into  the  back  of  an  ancient  car  he’s  saved  up  for ,  and  run  as  far  as  he  can .  the  events  of  2013  only  further  reiterated  that  jughead  actually  wanted  nothing  to  do  with  any  of  this  bullshit .  when  the  black  hood’s  identity  was  revealed ,  he  cut  off  a  blossoming  relationship  with  betty  right  there  and  then  and  hasn’t  even  DARED  to  entertain  the  idea  of  rekindling  it  since .  
at  the  same  time ,  the  serpents  and  ghoulies  are  dragging  his  family  into  a  turf  war  and  honestly ,  he’s  so  sick  of  this  shit .  he  entertained  the  possibility  of  a  serpent  alliance  once ,  flirted  with  the  idea  but  watching  the  war  unravel  has  only  pushed  him  further  away .  he  spends  more  time  on  the  north  side  than  he  does  at  home ,  and  there’s  a  good  reason  for  that .  he  loves  his  family  immensely ,  don’t  get  him  wrong ,  but  their  pseudo - gang  bullshit  just  isn’t  for  him .  subsequently ,  jughead’s  never  had  any  kind  of  serious  involvement  with  the  southside  serpents  besides  familial  ties .  he  wants  nothing  to  do  with  them .
so   --- -   to  summarise  all  that  mess ,  jughead’s  kind  of  realised  that  this  shit  is  FUCKED .  he’s  still  reeling  from  jason  blossom’s  murder ,  still  processing  how  hal  fucking  killed  all  those  people ,  and  he’s  trying  to  sever  himself  from  warring  gangs .  keep  in  mind ,  kid’s  fucking  eighteen  at  this  point .  he’s  a  dumb  bitch ,  let’s  not  make  any  mistake  about  that ,  but  he’s  a  dumb  bitch  who  hasn’t  dealt  with  the  trauma  he  experienced  as  a  teenager .
so  anyways   !!!   let’s  skip  to  present - day  jughead ,  because  this  is  my  favourite  bit .  currently ,  he  works  as  a  freelance  photojournalist  who  writes  on  the  side .  he’s  written  articles  for  nyt  and  a  few  papers  upstate ,  and  they’re  his  crowning  achievements .  he’s  written  a  few  little  novellas  here  and  there  which  are  in  the  editing  stage   --- -   he  doesn’t  think  that  any  of  them  are  that  good ,  and  isn’t  really  counting  on  getting  them  published .  instead ,  he’s  focusing  on  a  novel  right  now  (  and  no ,  he  didn’t  steal  the  idea  from  a  fucking  tumblr  post  so  stop  asking  ) .
he’s  ditched  the  beanie ,  ditched  that  at  about  eighteen  because  he  realised  how  fucking  weird  it  was  (  sans  that  ...  whole  speech  ) .  his  hair  and  scalp  have  breathed  since ,  and  they’re  loving  a  bit  of  oxygen .
he  still  eats  like  a  mf .  bitch  can  cram  so  much  food  in  there .  he  can  eat  even  more  when  he’s  stoned ,  which  is  usually  at  2  am  on  a  saturday  morning .
he’s  got  his  own  little  place  on  the  north  side  now ,  a  little  two - bedroom  apartment  that  he  shares  with  jellybean .  they  don’t  have  much ,  never  really  have  but  they’ve  got  each  other ,  a  selection  of  streaming  services  and  vintage  dvds ,  cheap  liquor  and  all  the  time  in  the  world .  that’s  all  they  need .
anyways  fuck  ras  and  his  edgelord  jughead ,  all  jughead  actually  wants  to  do  is  write  and  hang  out  with  his  sister  and  watch  bad  70s  schlock  horror  thank  u  for  ur  time
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