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sergiovinazzi · 3 years

Text

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Three)

3.9k words - Rated M (language)

Here it is, my most favourite chapter to date, I hope you enjoy!

You smooth the skirt of your soft, black-linen sundress with shaky hands and pinch the bridge of your nose. You’re regretting not packing anything warmer than the denim jacket currently wrapped around your shoulders when you’re interrupted by the disgruntled sounds of your father calling your name through the phone speaker.

“What?” you ask, exasperated. “Sorry, I got distracted for a second.”

He repeats himself in annoyance, “I said, are you okay with staying at the hotel and ordering dinner for yourself?”

Staring at the restaurant in front of you, you debate whether or not to explain your situation to him. You realise, however, that he probably has enough to worry about after today’s events at Silverstone, and his daughter being out to dinner with another team’s driver probably won’t go over well.

“Yeah,” you lie. “I could use a quiet night in. Will you grab something to eat for yourself on your way back?”

Your dad hums, and you can tell that once he heard the confirmation that he didn’t need to get dinner for you, he lost interest in anything you had to say after the fact. It’s not difficult for you to understand why. Still, the lack of a verbal response worries you and you find it hard to evade the thoughts about Max and the accident. To most, the fact that he got out of the car and could walk was a good sign, but you’re still plagued by the various possibilities of what the hospital tests will conclude and just how bad the damage really is.

“Will you let me know if he’s okay?” you ask quietly, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing the phone closer to your ear, as if you could hone in on the doctor’s discussions in the background to find out whether Max was going to be alright.

Your dad simply hums again. “I’ll text you when we know more, but I’ve gotta go. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye, dad,” you murmur.

His quick Bye, love you is rapidly replaced with the end-of-call dial tone.

You slip the phone into your jacket pocket and take a deep breath, preparing to head inside the restaurant. You couldn’t help but clock the bright orange McLaren already stationed in the parking lot when your Uber arrived. You recognised it from a picture in the article you read when you first learned of Lando’s incident at Wembley. You’re thankful for the sign that he’s already here and you dredge up the remaining ounces of fake confidence left in your body, making an effort to quickly smooth down your hair before you open the door and enter the restaurant.

You’re immediately overwhelmed by the sheer atmosphere of elegance. Hand-painted horizons adorn the walls, encapsulated by swirling silver frames and accentuated by the small lights stationed above each piece of artwork, their job for the night to highlight the colours and shading the artist undoubtedly spent hours perfecting.

The savoury scents of garlic and soy originate in the kitchen and permeate across the premises with ease, challenged only by the rousing aroma of the stunning frangipanis adorning the entrance.

A woman you guess to be around your age approaches you with a notepad and pen in hand. She’s dressed in a black bodycon skirt with a hem that scrapes the top of her knees; her matching coloured button up shirt is tucked in smoothly. “Hi,” she greets with a small smile, “Would you like me to show you to the bar?”

“Oh, I’m actually supposed to be meeting someone here,” you tell her, eyes scanning the room for Lando.

You see him before he sees you.

He’s tucked away at a table in the corner, his brown curls peaking over the top of the large menu he's studying.

“Found him, thanks,” you tell the waitress and she returns to her station as you make your way across the restaurant towards Lando.

He looks up from the menu as your figure appears in his peripherals and he shoots you a wave when you’re a few metres away. You return his gesture with a small laugh and he stands, walking to the front of the table to greet you.

“Hey,” he says, enveloping you in a one-armed hug. “Glad you could make it.”

“Me too. I hope you weren’t waiting long,” you tell him, noticing the almost empty glass of beer in front of him as he returns to his seat.

“It wasn’t too long, don’t worry,” he reassures you.

The reality of the situation fails to present itself to you until you and Lando are seated silently across from one another. Your stomach is tightly wound with nerves but Lando appears just as anxious, noticeably fidgeting in his seat and frequently straightening his knife and fork. He’s dressed rather sharp compared to what you’d been treated to in the past, the blue and orange race suit discarded for a crisp white button down and black dress shorts. You wonder whether the outfit you picked out is suitable for tonight, although you cut yourself some slack. When you’d packed your suitcase on Wednesday, you’d hardly expected to spend any time outside of the Red Bull garage or your hotel room, let alone situated in a restaurant that was, now very obviously, out of your price range. The thought causes you to send a silent prayer to whoever would listen that you had enough in your spending account to pay your half of the final bill tonight.

The woman who greeted you earlier approaches the table to ask what drinks the two of you would like to order.

Lando asks for a cola and you look at him in confusion.

“You’re not going to have another one?” you ask him as he hands over his empty beer glass.

“No, I’m not a big drinker,” he replies, “Especially not during the season.”

“So why did you invite me to have drinks then?” you ask, clearly amused. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Lando Norris?”

He laughs, and raises his hands in mock surrender, “Hey! No, nothing like that. I just don’t really drink, I never have.”

“Yeah I kinda noticed that actually,” you tell him. “Even on your podiums you don’t drink the champagne.”

“I thought you didn’t watch Formula 1?”

You wish you could wipe the stupid smirk off of his face as you practically watch the realisation form in his head. “Have you been watching my old races?”

“No,” you retort somewhat unconvincingly. “I found some highlights on YouTube though, and your podiums from Spielberg and Imola were on there.”

“My podium finish in Monaco is pretty good too. I’d be happy to show it to you sometime, though, it’s a shame that you find racing so boring.”

You roll your eyes and laugh. “Shut up.”

The warm glow emitting from the industrial-style bulbs resting overhead doesn’t help the blush settling on your cheeks, and neither does the grin Lando shoots you. You shrug off your jacket and place it carefully on the back of your seat just as the waitress arrives with your freshly poured Caiproska. You thank her and trace your fingers along the cool side of the glass, collecting the droplets of condensation that form in hopes that they’ll provide some sort of relief from your keen fever.

Lando’s gaze is strong enough that you feel him watching you without having to look across at him, it transcends the need for observed confirmation and instead sets your body alight merely at the thought of it. The thrum of your heart threatens to escape the confines of your chest and you stupidly pray that he doesn’t hear it as the exposed skin of your chest flushes scarlet against the dark neckline of your dress. You clasp the charm that sits at your throat, pinching it between your fingers and allowing yourself to bask in the minimal relief the cold metal provides against your warm skin.

Lando wipes his sweaty palms on his shorts and takes a deep breath. “So, that was a pretty crazy race today, huh? I didn’t think I’d be able to hold onto fourth place, not with another Ferrari behind me and Daniel.”

“Yeah, it was crazy,” is all you can reply before delving back into your pocket at what you think is the sound of your phone receiving a message.

God, he thinks, he’s boring you half to death. He finally has you all to himself and the only topic he can string more than a few words together for is his job, treating you like a reporter he’s obligated to unpack his strategy for in the paddock. He doesn’t understand why he’s so fucking nervous tonight, he wasn’t nearly this wound up when he’d asked you out. Sure, it was an effort to keep his hands from shaking as he locked his car and crossed the parking lot, but he convinced himself it was just the gentle breeze passing through the city that set his flesh alight with goosebumps. He was simply excited, more than anything, to spend some one-on-one time with someone his own age, and if that someone happened to be a pretty girl, who could blame him for looking forward to it?

But then you showed up in that dress and suddenly the possibility that he’d see you out of it by the end of the night if he played his cards right became more and more realistic. His head spins at the thought of taking you home tonight. And the next night. And suddenly the thought is replaced by the images of himself coming home to you every night. After months overseas with nothing but timezone-dependent calls he returns to the comfort of your embrace, it’s your fingers that gently scrape the back of his neck as a confirmation that he’s home. It’s the warmth of your body and the lilt of no one else’s voice that cures the cavity in his chest that enveloped him the moment he shut the apartment door behind him all those weeks ago. He sees you seated on his kitchen counter, legs swinging as the coffee brews each morning, and asleep on his couch every night even after you’d promised if he let you pick the movie you’d stay awake this time.

He knows he’s in way over his head. He only just met you, what, three days ago? Yet here he sits, wishing there was some magic rule book that could explain how he could make sure his time with you never ends. He wishes he’d met you long before this week –honestly, it feels like he’s known you for much longer–so that the heat that rises underneath his shirt and the lump in his throat doesn't lend itself to the idea that he’s just some lust-fuelled boy. Your text messages make him laugh like no one else’s have before and the thought that you were watching him this afternoon, after you weren’t initially planning to stay for the race, had him feeling more confident than he has all season.

He knows he can’t tell you all that, it’s way too soon and you’ll think he’s crazy. He has to think of something interesting to talk to you about to fill the minutes before he feels it appropriate to ask you out for a second time, but instead he sits in silence as you refuse to meet his gaze. Your eyes won’t stop lingering on your phone screen, or darting around the restaurant, undoubtedly searching for distractions. Signs on the wall you could read to pass the time until the check comes, or maybe you’re searching for a saviour, a bartender to lock eyes with who’ll answer your silent plea: get me the hell out of here. He’s caught off guard when your eyes make their way back to him, his heart skips a singular beat like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He’s preparing himself to appear nonchalant in response to the immaculately crafted excuse you’re undoubtedly about to deliver in order to explain your sudden escape from his company, when a small smile forms on your lips instead.

He smiles back.

“Sorry,” he explains. “I know I talk a lot about racing. It’s kind of my whole life at the moment so it’s easy for me to get carried away.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m kind of used to it anyway. It’s basically all we talk about at the dinner table when my dad’s home.”

“Well, what do you like to talk about? I saw on your Instagram that you’re studying advertising, tell me something about that.”

You smile at his consideration and tell him all about your degree. How you’ve always had an interest in design and noticed how it could be used to turn a profit, right from when you would try your hand at creating the posters for your school’s bake sales and car washes. You tell him the story of your first paid commission for a digital advertisement, an intricately crafted Instagram post for an up-and-coming clothing boutique based in London. He asks questions in all the right places and offers his congratulations when you show him screenshots of some of your most successful work.

Conversation ebbs and flows easily throughout the night, the nerves that had you second guessing your decision to come earlier tonight eradicated. The food is tremendous, and your company even better. Your waitress returns with the final bill for the night and Lando hands his card over without hesitation.

“Hey, no,” you say. “Let me pay for my half.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells you. “This was my way of repaying you for bringing my watch back, remember?”

Oh. That’s all tonight was for. He felt obligated to spend money on you in return for the trouble you’d gone through to return his stolen timepiece to him.

“When I talked to the police they said they could get me the money back once the guy was caught,” you stress. “So, you don’t need to do that.”

He brushes your statement off with a wave of his hand and smiles when the waitress returns with his card and a receipt.

Your mind mistakes the reverberation of champagne flutes clinking together for the chime of your text tone and you instinctively reach into your purse, hoping to see the screen alight with good news. You’d settle for any news really, so long as it meant you would finally get a clear picture of what was going on, and you could stop embellishing the details of the worst case scenario you had designed in your head.

A 51G impact like the one you had witnessed today can do a lot of damage to the body, whether visible from the outside or not, and you hoped, more than anything, that the helmet and halo were enough to protect Max from anything more than a few minor scrapes and bruises.

You’re lost in a world of nightmarish outcomes until you remember where you are. Lando’s face is contorted in a concerned frown across from you.

“Everything alright?” he asks gently.

“Yeah, sorry, I thought I heard my phone go off but it must’ve been something else.”

“It’s getting pretty noisy in here, do you want to head outside?” he offers.

“Okay.”

———

In the slight summer breeze you observe the moonlight washing across Lando’s figure, illuminating his features softly and elucidating the closeness of his face to yours. The proximity allows you to easily breathe in the pleasant cedarwood undertones of the cologne that adorns his skin, and allows him to imagine the sweet ropy flavour undoubtedly lingering on your tongue from the maraschino cherries you’d so delicately placed between your teeth throughout night.

The crinkles that form at the edges of his eyes as he meets your gaze with a smile are priceless. You wish you could bottle the feeling they give you and save it for a day you need it most.

“I had a nice time,” he tells you, practically beaming. “I can’t remember the last time I went out after a race and talked about stuff other than racing.”

“Yeah it was nice, dinner was really good too.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you stand in silence while you wait for your Uber to arrive. Lando had insisted on driving you back to your hotel but you knew his car would cause a fuss so you declined and told him you had an Uber discount code that was due to expire. You make an effort to seem fascinated by the cracks in the sidewalk and Lando acts intrigued by the streetlights, both of you dancing around the question that lingers unspoken in the air.

Are we going to meet up again?

The alert on your phone informs you that your driver is only a minute away.

“He’s almost here,” you tell Lando. “Thank you so much for paying for dinner, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s okay!” he insists. He shifts his weight on his feet before offering his arms to you.

You accept his invitation and hug him goodbye. You can’t help but notice the heat radiating through his thin shirt and feel his heart hammering between your two chests. His fingertips burn brands into your skin as they rest softly on your back and when he pulls back from you his hands don’t move an inch.

You catch his gaze and feel his thumb sweep softly over the fabric of your dress, underneath your jacket, before his lips meet yours in a searing kiss.

You’re caught off guard to say the least. His hands are hot on your back but his lips are soft and you’d be lying if you said they weren’t sending your head into a frenzy.

The rest of the day’s events are temporarily overruled by Lando kissing you; lying to your dad about where you are, wishing you could celebrate Lando’s fourth place finish with him in his garage, the repetitive questions aimed at you by the police that had you exhausted by mid morning, let alone Max’s accident.

Max.

And suddenly it’s not Lando’s but another pair of lips that are on yours, larger and hungrier and they come with a devastating reminder of what it’s like to sneak around with a Formula 1 driver. The lying and heartache that you remember all too clearly to feel like the kind of falling that jolts you awake from dreams.

You pull back and place your hands on Lando’s shoulders, staring down.

He’s instantly apologetic, bringing a hand through the front of his hair. “Sorry, I thought…fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say, removing your hands and wrapping them around yourself. “It’s okay, um my car’s here anyway so I gotta go.”

He just nods and shoves his hands into his pockets.

The slamming of the car door feels like a hammer pounding in Lando’s head. For a moment he had you. In his hand was the opportunity to make something great out of your meeting, but he wrapped his fingers inward and crushed it in an instant.

———

When you wake the next morning, your head remains sore from the screeching of car engines throughout your eventful weekend. Though not particularly unbearable at the time, the accumulation of noise over the three days you were at the track had definitely built up.

Instinctively, you check your phone, assuming that you would be confronted with your typical notifications: a recommended Instagram account, a liked Tweet, maybe even a text. You know you’re being optimistic to expect anything from Lando, your mind refusing to stop reminding you of how awkward you had made your time together the night before. Still, you yearn for any sort of reassurement that it wasn’t as bad as your overthinking had made it out to be.

You read the time and see that it’s almost noon. You know that your dad will be out until around two o’clock, already fussing about with work related ordeals in order to have things perfect for the race in Hungary. When you eventually awaken enough to read the notifications on your phone, you find it difficult to hide your surprise as you find a text and missed call from Lando, the nervous feeling that you endured last night returns, sinking into your stomach like a stone.

Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I had a really nice time last night :) Sorry if I was too forward at the end, I hope it didn’t ruin your night or anything.

Biting back a smile as you read the text, your mind is put at ease as you realise that he enjoyed himself as much as you did. You’re tempted to text him back immediately and tell him that he’s being silly, that of course he didn’t ruin your night. You wish you could explain your situation with Max and how, if it were any other night than the one your ex-boyfriend spent in hospital, you would have kissed Lando back. However, your plan to reply is thwarted as you notice the notification that informs you Lando also left you a voicemail. He must have called some time after sending his initial text message. Finger hovering over the play button, you are hopeful that it’s further kind words about your time together, or perhaps an invitation for a second ‘date’. If you could call it that. Nevertheless, you push the button.

The disappointed sigh he lets out causes your heart to stutter, before his voice crackles through the phone speaker.

“Hey, it’s me. Sorry for calling, I know I already texted you and um… I hate that I have to do this but I think it would be better for you to hear it from me instead of finding out online or something. I’ve just seen that someone got pictures of us together last night. I didn’t think anyone who knew me would be there but I guess it was still close enough to Silverstone that someone recognised who I was. I’m really sorry, but if it is any help I don’t think anyone recognised you because your face isn’t really in the photos. I’m trying to get them taken down and it’s not really on Instagram or in the news or anything, but lots of people on Twitter are talking about it. If there’s anything that I can do, please let me know. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen at his words, breath hitching in your throat as you process it. You replay the message over and over, as if hearing it multiple times will change the bad news Lando delivers each time. Instinctually, you close the app and scrub your hands over your face. You wonder about what exact kind of picture the photos he’s referring to imply. Does it paint a picture that could get you in trouble?

What about Lando?

Fuck.

What about your dad?

Your stomach drops at the thought of him seeing them. Getting caught lying about your whereabouts was one thing, but being caught with Lando Norris while you promised you were tucked up in the confines of your hotel room opens up a whole new world of possible consequences.

As if the universe can read your mind, it delivers your worst nightmare to you on a silver platter, piping hot and laced with venom.

A notification appears from your dad.

Call me when you’re awake.

-------

tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love

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lazyunknownhideout · 3 years

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My light || Billy Russo x OC ch-1

new chapter is up on -- > lazy-ass-bitxh-blog also on my wattpad -> Rose_Davidson

Rose Wilson, an artist doing well in her profession, going out to party, traveling, living her best life. Although she gotta admit being best friends to the CEO of a multimillion military company had much of a hand in her blooming success.

Billy and Rose have been friends for three years. After Billy returned from his first tour of Afghanistan, he found a new neighbor. A quiet girl showed up to his doorstep with a shepherd's pie, claiming it to be an introductory gift. And the next day the same girl showed up asking him to help fix her plumbing. After a few help with her plumbing and light fixing and car fixing, they seemed to have formed a nice bond. Soon Billy found himself going up to her place every weekend with a pizza and spend an evening watching movies and talking about the week, for that few hours Billy seemed to forget most about the horrors he faces at the front daily. He found a confidant in her and began sharing as much as he could about his experience in Afghanistan without breaching confidentiality. Even though Billy Russo was a ladies' man, always good to talk his way into their beds and their arms, she seemed to be the one you would like to sit and have a nice cup of coffee and talk all about your day.

On the day Billy had to go back to Afghanistan he told her all about his childhood, opening up all about the abuse the tortures. He figured if he died at the front he would know there was someone who knew all about him, and hopefully still thought good about him, and rose did just that.

"Well Billy, what would you like as your coming home meal?" Rose asked as he was packing up all his bags.

Billy looked at her and smiled, "If I do come back, I will have one of your pies"

"You will come back Billy, you're a stubborn man" Billy chuckled at her words.

"Well I hope I do, until then stay safe and happy okay rose?"

"Yep" She hugged him tight and smiled looking at him.

_____________________________________________________

Timeskip--

Anvil, Billy's company has been thriving, getting a lot of clients of high profile always kept the business going smoothly, however, a small inconvenience had popped up. Homeland security agent Madani seemed to have caught a sniff of operation Cerberus and going public about it would destroy all he has worked for. So Billy did what he does best, chatted her up, and made her trust him.

He just came home after having a drink with Madani, satisfied with the progress he had made, taking all the information out of her would be easy. As he went in to take a shower his phone ranged, it was Rose.

"Hey Billy, where were you? Your phone was switched off"

"Yea I was out confidential work, everything alright?"

"It's Saturday Bill, you didn't come for our pizza night" Her voice sounded sad.

"Shit sorry, It completely went out of my mind, I could come over now order something" He stepped out of the bathroom and started looking for a change of clothes.

"Hey it's alright, you must be tired, we'll just do it next week"

"You sure its alright?" He didn't want to upset the one person he cared about.

"Yea yea, its alright, I'll see you later kay?"

"Yeah see you"

The next morning Billy found her drying a piece of her canvas on her balcony as he was returning from his morning run. Deciding to apologize for last night he walked up to her door.

As she opened the door Billy couldn't control his laugh when he saw the state she was in, clothes splattered with paint all over, face half covered in red paint, and a pencil behind her ear.

"Well stop laughing and come in" Rose rolled her eyes at his reaction.

Billy walked, "Did you run out of canvases to paint on and decided to paint yourself?"

"Shut up Russo" She shook her head unable to hide a smile creeping onto her face.

"So as I missed out on last night, I was thinking maybe go for a cup of coffee and breakfast"

"Sure lemme wash up all these paints then"

"Right give me a call when you are done, I'll be at my place"

"Okay"

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

Billy walked up to the counter, "An espresso and a caramel latte and two bacon with eggs"

"Well you know my preference Russo" He smiled at her, ordering exactly what she had in mind.

"What can I say, I'm pretty observant and I know you well" She smiled at him and sat down. As the order cane real soon they started eating. Rose was debating whether or not to ask him about last night, deciding to just go for it she did

"Hey, so what was the work that kept you busy even on a saturday night"Billy looked up from his cup, "It was a meeting with an informant " He lied effortlessly, although technically it was a 'meeting' she called him upto meet, and as he was trying to pry out information from her it did make madani an informant.

Rose nodded her head, "And how was your week Billy, saw you returning pretty late last few nights"

Billy smirked at her,"Have you been stalking me Rose, I must say Im a bit flattered"

Rose laughed at his reaction,"I can just see your ego inflate up Russo, that car of yours is hard to miss when it pulls up in the driveway, so I guess you can say I stalked your pretty car"

Billy's smirk never faltered,"just the pretty car not the very pretty man inside it?" Rose smiled at him, it was hard to imagine this man sitting infront of her, laughing and making jokes was a person with 300 confirm kills at the upfront and had a whole organisation of henchmen at his fingertips.

"Just finish your coffee Billy" Billy chuckled at her, and sipped his coffe, "How about you how was your week" "Non monumental"

They talked about their week and all other things while having their breakfast. It seemed easy for them to talk to each other, it was effortless Billy never had to worry that she might judge him based on his work that he did, she always seemed to understand him. The only other person that he was this open with was Frank but it has been 2years since he died, even though he missed him, it was comforting knowing Rose was here for him.

She never questioned too much about his work, some times when he returns home wounded up, he goes and visits her after cleaning himself up and one cup of coffee with her seems to ease the pain.

Rose had never met someone like Billy before, he had practically everything at his fingertips, just one call away, she knew people feared Billy, she knew his service in the marines he had killed so many people, enemies, she knew everything he was capable of, but whenever she was with him, she just saw this man, someone who jokes around brings pizza for her, makes coffee sometimes and even goes shopping with her and patiently waits for her to try out many many clothes, and also provides some very constructive advice on fashion.

They walked back to their place and went on with the daily chores.

Back at Anvil things were getting quite busy with new recruiters coming in, Billy had to go in for orientation almost every day, a fresh batch of young men and women, eager to get recruited.

There was also the case of Madani, the sooner he gets to get all the information out of her the better, so far he had taken her out drinking and slept with her almost three days in a row and found out very little.

As the weekend approached Billy had the one thing he looked forward to after a rough week. It was Saturday evening, people at Anvil, finished their work for the day and were headed back. Billy thought to go grab the pizza and go straight to her place. As he was gathering up his stuff, his phone rang Dinah's name popped up.

He picked up the cellphone and answered with a gruff tired voice, "Dinah"

"Well, Mr.Russo you sound tired"

"Yea long day" Billy went on and locked his office, heading out.

"Why don't you come over then Billy, vent some of that tension out" She said in the best sultry voice she could manage.

Billy smirked, "Careful there agent Madani, this might just become a regular thing"

She chuckled, "Why do you have plans tonight?"

Billy took a moment before answering her, maybe if he called Rose she would understand, it was just pizza and movie, it wasn't like they were dating. And he couldn't miss any chance that he can get to search Madani's house.

"No, no I'm free I'm coming over, hope you are ready for me"

"Why don't you come soon and find out" She hung up.

Billy dialed Rose's number, hoping she wouldn't mind missing out tonight. She picked up after three rings.

"Hey Billy, everything alright?"

"Yea, listen um, something came up, so I won't be back like late tonight."

"Oh," She was upset it was evident in her voice.

"I'm sorry Rose" He said softly. "How about coffee like last week?"

"Yea don't worry Billy, it's alright. Job is important"

A tinge of guilt washed over Billy. He did still hesitate a bit but still, went on to Dinah's place.

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

Rose looked over at the clock, 35mins since she ordered her pizza, "Well I should be getting it for free now then", she decided to watch a movie herself, after all, it wasn't Billy's fault that urgent work came over.

The doorbell rang and she went over to collect her pizza.

"That will be 8 dollars, ma'am"

"Shouldn't it be free, you are over 30min"

"No ma'am sorry, we don't have that policy"

"Alright then" She went in to get her purse, as she came back out she was shocked to see the pizza guy holding out a gun, pointing at her.

"Don't dare to scream or move, I won't hesitate to shoot"

Rose was frozen in place, too shocked to comprehend what was even happening. The man came up tied her hands behind her back, all while pointing the gun at her throat.

"What do you want!"

"Shut up girl! You are leverage for Billy Russo. Now don't make a single noise while I take you downstairs. One scream and the bullet goes straight in."

"If I'm to be leverage then I wouldn't be much use dead would I?" Rose regretted it as soon as those words came out of her mouth.

The guy gave her a deadly stare and put gauged her mouth shut and shoot a bullet at her hand. Her scream was muffled by the gauge covering her mouth, she struggled to free her hands but the knot was too tight, the man dragged her to the door and pulled her up.

"Now don't cause a fuss and come quietly or the next bullet goes through the leg. Rose didn't dare to struggle against the guy, he was a foot taller than her, and manhandled her like she weighed nothing. He dragged her out and shoved her into the car. There were two more men inside the car, she tried to take a closer look at their faces when suddenly a hand came in and put a cloth over her face, and then she blacked out.

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

chapter 2

A.N: Hey there guys!! hope you like this start, its just the first chapter so not much BillyxRose in here except a build-up of their relation, but there will be action in the next chapter so brace yourselves!

And also: review! review! review!

#billy russo #billyrusso #fanfiction #benbarnes #ben barnes #billy russo imagine #smut #jigsaw #thepunisher #billy russo fanfiction

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zet-sway · 3 years

Text

@the-wip-project day 35:

I don't know what today's question is but I gotta write a wall of text about what happened last night because holy shit

I was on the verge of falling asleep and, like I usually do, I decided to hunt for some spicy fanfics to read on my phone. I found one.

All my posts are long but this one is real fucking long. CW for touching on dub-con and injury mentioned in the type of context it probably shouldn't be.

It's time for me to admit that not only am I a oneshot writer, I'm also a oneshot reader. I am drawn to short fanfics. If I click on a chaptered fic, it's (usually) because it's rated E for smut and I'll go in with every intention of skimming it for the spicy bits. I'm not proud of this. I've avoided saying this for years because I don't want to disappoint people who work hard on their very long and well thought out chaptered stories. I have a short attention span, and I know what I want.

But anyway, last night I clicked on a fic with 5 chapters and some amount of words, around 30k? Long, by my standards, but I was tired and I just wanted something to read while I dozed off.

This particular fic hooked me in, though. I still skimmed it, but the writing was so unique in a way that made me writhe with writer's envy and admiration. Whoever wrote this had their own language - nothing borrowed - their own vision.

I guess I should tell the good people who read my posts (ya'll, seriously, thank you) that the fic in topic is called Fault Lines by Recidiva on AO3. I would link to it but uhhhh I may be using my work PC for "extracurricular purposes" right this moment ^^; so maybe when I get home I'll remember to add it.

I skimmed it - like I said above - for the spicy parts. It generally follows the plot of Bioware's canon. Thane begins as possessive and manipulative, likely uncomfortably close to dub-con for a lot of people. He kisses her and knows full well that his kiss will make her willing but intoxicated, and how he will use that to fulfil himself. But as the story progresses, he falls in love. Their relationship is what I'll call "edgy." Both of them are renegades. There's a scene where they get down in the shuttle after a fight and they're both still injured and it borders on downright unrealistic but fuck it, it's fanfic and I bought it. However their relationship develops a certain heart-wrenching tenderness. She asks him what Siha means over and over again, and eventually tells him she thinks "bitch" when he says it. But in that moment they have a playful banter, he knows full well she's probably already looked it up on the extranet, and they fall into bed together. The smut is mind-boggling.

By the time it gets to Shepard's arrest, he's taken up a place on Earth and visits her, breaks into her house arrest. There's a scene where they see each other for the first time in a while, she tells him how much she's missed his mouth and how it's not right how bad she wants him, and wants him bad enough to smother him with affection. She says something to the effect of "if you're looking to die, I'd volunteer to be the cause," implying that her lust is powerful enough to endanger his life. And it was at this moment I realized I fucked up.

It's established that I live in my own headcanon and I'm not burdened with considering the end of Thane's life as part of my fics. And the suspension of disbelief was such that I forgot he doesn't make it. So at this moment in the fic, chapter 4 out of 5, I realized "Oh shit this isn't going to have a happy ending." I skipped to the end right away, I wanted to confirm my fears.

In their final exchange, she asks him to lie to her - something that's repeated in other chapters of the story. I forget what he says, I was reading desperately, but he asks her in return to tell him something true. She kisses him and tells him she loves him, and he breathes his last breath with the lingering tingle of their kiss to carry him to the other side.

I was so entrenched in the depth of their relationship up to that point. The level of fathomless love the author conveyed, unlike anything I've ever managed to write before, but more realistic to my own understanding of love as I've experienced it. Not because they're renegades, but just the selflessness with which they feel, communicate, banter, and make love.

When I read that last paragraph, something inside me broke. That sounds dramatic but that's honestly how I would describe it. It felt like waking up from a night terror, when you bolt up in bed from a dream so bad you immediately get up even if it's 4am because nothing feels real and you're so terrified you have to get up and do something - literally anything to take your mind off it, to ease you back into reality. I put my phone down and stared into the darkness of my bedroom and told myself "it's just a fanfic, no need to get upset." And then I started to cry and I didn't stop for 30 minutes.

My husband was downstairs watching Bohemian Rhapsody and I went down there and wrapped myself around him so tight and cried. Bless this man, from the bottom of my heart - bless him - for his unfathomable kindness. I felt like a fucking fool because I was crying over fanfiction but he paused his movie and just listened while I tried to articulate how it wasn't exactly about the character death, or the characters at all, it was just the writing and how it wormed into my brain so convincingly. I felt the loss like it was my own loss. I am terrified of losing my husband. So many feelings coalesced and I realized one day I may be in that situation, kissing the man I love goodbye for the last time, never to hold him again. I'm at work right now and I'm tearing up because it's so hard.

I tip my hat to the author, but I genuinely wished I hadn't read that fanfic. And isn't it kind of funny after that grandstand I took yesterday about not wanting to write the pain of loss and grief, that I ended up reading it instead and probably fucking myself up just as badly, if not worse, than if I had tried to write it myself?

It gets worse, too. Because it got me thinking about my own writing, and how I could never hope to achieve what that author did. So I sat there crying out my painfeelings while simultaneously feeling like a shit writer and like nothing I put out matters. I got up from the couch, sat down at my PC and picked up where I left off in the Omega DLC in ME3 because video games are great for taking the mind off things. It didn't exactly help with the intensity I'd hoped for, but I managed to fall asleep, by 3am.

Fast forward to this morning. I dragged my sorry ass out of bed 4 hours later and drove to work. By some fucking miracle, no one is here right now except our field director. And I'm stewing in how this one fic really fucked me up bad, reconsidering everything. I feel like I've been put in my place.

So what changed?

Yesterday I posted about how I'm struggling to write a plotline. I know what happens, but I'm not interested in the little bits that tie it together. I want to write the romance. I think there's a way to write the plot and the romance at the same time, but it's damn hard.

I started doing this because I wanted to grow my skills as a writer, and I knew it might be more than I could chew. I'm at that moment now where I'm about ready to give up.

Even if I felt like a shit writer last night (and still kinda do this morning), I know that the stuff I've put out has value. We can't all write these epically tragic smut-romance-renegades-to-lovers tales, we'd all be sad all the damn time. There's a time and a place and - I would argue - even a need for lighterhearted fic out there. There are really no rules. I'm confident in what I know how to do.

But the plot. Fuck it, man. I think maybe I'm trying too hard to be something I'm not. I'm trying really hard to write like other people. I may have mentioned before that I saw a post about how many artists spend their time pining for the skills of others, thinking "wow, when I can draw like that, I'll have made it as an artist." That same post cautioned against this, basically saying you already have your own unique style, it's just harder to see through the lens of your own eyeballs. It's fine to challenge yourself but try to acknowledge what you do that sets you apart already. I feel like I have that something - maybe not to the extent that I wish, but I have something.

So what's the point of the plot? Why do I need to tell my readers how I cured Keprals? I'm asking myself important questions here. I like to think I've come up with ideas that no one else has, but as I said above, I don't read a lot of chaptered fics. I very well may have come to the same ideas as other writers and I'm not even aware of it. I don't know if my ideas are unique but I still arrived at them all by myself.

The challenge here - the thing I'm struggling so much with - is how to put them together with the same elegance of my fellow writers. I'm looking at you, shrios fam (yeah I'm calling you that, yall know who you are). I know I can write words, but it's like I have a bunch of pieces from completely different jigsaw puzzles and I'm struggling to make a new picture out of them. I struggle with the transitions between them.

The point here is I have to find my own way. And I have to stop taking myself so seriously. In fact this level of "seriousness" is one of the things that got me into so much angst over World of Warcraft over the last two years. At least I know how to recognize it.

I have to find my own way. I have my own things that are worth sharing. The author I read last night had a language all their own, and I have a language all my own too. Their wordplay was actually more choppy than I would ever write. I've talked before about how I'm scared of starting too many sentences with pronouns, how I maybe write too many run-on sentences, whatever. This author did that with reckless abandon. It worked for them. So if they can make that shit work, I can make my own shit work.

I have to find my own way.

My most current WIP is Thane and Shepard's first time. I've been working on it pretty nonchalantly because I hadn't intended to publish it until I built up to it. It takes place further into my timeline, and it would probably ruin the point of a slow burn if I put it out there now. There are some really memorably moments in this WIP, and there are other moments that need to be smoothed over as well. I never knew what I'd really imagined for their first time but I think I've mostly developed something that's unique in its own right, and I think will be fun for people to read.

I'm just so fucking torn over what to do with it. I feel guilty for working on it. I should be writing "other shit" leading up to it but I don't fucking want to. I actually wrote probably 2-3k words this weekend, which is a pretty staggering amount by my standards. Some of it was for this smutty WIP and some was for something I just threw together, Thane observing Shepard on Horizon and the emotional toll it takes on her. He's seeing her humanity. I don't know if it's worth it to continue but I wrote a lot of it and the words are more precise than usual for a draft, I don't know. I have so much fucking insecurity. Fuck dude. I want to write this longfic, but I don't want to write it. I want to skim to the spicy bits like I always do.

I am wracked with insecurity, of my own making. I know what I can do but I feel compelled to see this idea through. Somehow I have to find my own way.

TLDR I feel like if I don't publish something soon I'm going to burst and I don't even know what the fuck to work on first and fjslfjsojoiejrj

I would be really down for, like, a bunch of hugs and a bowl of ice cream shared over memes and fanservice.

#this post is EXTREMELY fucking long send help #ITT: i read something that probably changed my brain chemistry for a few hours and it's painful #zet vs 100days #i'm just glad to get this off my chest good lord #anyway if people want to send me links to their favorite shrios fluff i would welcome it

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creek-cryptid-deluxe · 3 years

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Oh man. So I just watched a documentary HBO released. It was fantastic but there's a TON of talk about violence & s*xual assault because it was a documentary about...

Woodstock 99.

Now when this happened I was 14. I liked a lot of those bands & thus watched it on MTV (because back then MTV still played music, although MTV2 played more music up my alley, less pop) so I watched this all happen in real time over the course of 3 days. It was bananas.

The documentary was a lot of footage from the event, interviews with attendees, music journalists, the event creators (who still somehow maintain it was a success & 'not as bad as the media made it out to be'), random staff (security & emt), and some artists.

Now, I must retract a statement made yesterday on my Queen of the Damned rant, as Jon Davis was interviewed on this doc. Jon, I apologize for & retract statements made yesterday. You have cleaned it up & it was good to see you looking healthier than I've seen you look in the better part of 2 decades. Proud of you man. Glad you're flourishing. Sorry I was an asshole yesterday.

Can't say the same for my boy Dexter Holland from The Offspring. I wouldn't have known it was him if not for the text onscreen identifying him. He legit looked like someone made a massive overly tanned balloon caricature of him. Holy shit. And this isn't just some "getting older" weight that most people get. This is like... Don Vito from Viva La Bam (rip) level shit. Like...wow.

Moby was interviewed & they showed footage of his bus coming into the venue and I gotta say... dude is still a pretentious piece of shit. I don't understand how he can have his head so far up his own ass & still be able to speak audibly for cameras. Dude wasn't even that good for his genre, much less in general!

Don't get me wrong, I grew up listening to a ton of different genres. Still do. That's what you get when your dad is a musician & your mom is schizoaffective & your stepmom is an 80s new wave/pop person who loves fucking John Hughes movies. Tons of variety. At the 'height' of his career, I was listening to The Prodigy (RIP Keith Flint♡), Chemical Brothers, Crystal Method, and Daft Punk. But jesus christ Moby was crap.

Moby: fuck you. You're a shit artist & a garbage person. If I ever meet you, you're getting a cane to the nuts just because of who you are as a person. Then probably again for assaulting the public with your crap electronic music. Wanker.

So the present day interviews did just talk about the events of the festival but also things that were happening in the world at the time because a huge part of why it became the shit show it did was that it catered to & drew in a very specific demographic: angry white dudes between 20-25. They probably weren't sure why they were angry but they absolutely fucking were.

So in talking about what was happening at the time they obviously touched on the Clinton/Lewinsky thing, the fears about y2k, and the like.

The best part of this entire documentary for me:

They talked about the napster thing & the stance Lars Urlich from Metallica took on it. There were actually a number of artists who disagreed with his stance. There was footage of a round table style interview with him & Chuck D from Public Enemy. Lars is over there looking pissy while Chuck D was saying "I think this is a great thing because it puts the music back into the hands of the people." The idea being that they can easily share it with friends & it ends up gaining them new fans. Hell, that was the entire basis for Dashboard Confessional's career. Their vocalist has openly stated that if not for sites like Napster, Limewire, & Kazaa, nobody would have ever heard their music.

Cut to an interview with present day Dave Munstaine (formerly of Metallica but has been the front for Megadeth for far longer. He may also be the reason behind my thing for redheaded dude. Hm.) Let me just say, for being a 59 year old rockstar who just survived throat cancer, that man is still fucking gorgeous. And the hair is still long & red, bless him.

Anyway, his interview is my favorite fucking part because this man said something along the lines of:

"I remember back when I was with Metallica trading mixed cassette tapes. That's how we found new music. This isn't different. Why did Lars do what he did? I mean, who knows why someone does something like that. Doesn't he have enough money? I certainly think so..."

Y'ALL. I legit had to pause it & out loud said "BROOOOOOOOO. That is the most serious but legit shade I've ever seen thrown IN MY LIFE."

Then text my dad (because Metallica is his favorite & he tries to tell me all the time how Lars was justified) & didn't quote it but told him the Dave just threw serious fucking shade at Lars for the Napster thing & that he HAS to watch this doc.

His response was: "lol yeah there's definitely no love lost between Dave & Metallica. You hear Megadeth is putting out a new album despite Dave having just recovered from throat cancer?"

(I had not known about the album or the cancer. I hope Dave is doing well. Love him.)

But yes, that was the absolute highlight of my fucking week much less the documentary.

A warning: the low point of the doc is when attendees & journalists are talking about the instances of the aforementioned assaults & they cut to one of the even organizers present day interview & he says:

"I mean, we aren't talking about thousands of instances or even hundreds. There were maybe 50 or so." (At which point I scream "THAT WERE OFFICIALLY REPORTED YOU SCUMBAG!" This was later confirmed for me by an attendee who set up an anonymous site for attendees to report if they had been assaulted at the event so they wouldn't feel alone & have there story heard. There WERE 1000s.) Then he went on to say: "All those women who were walking around topless or wearing body paint, expecting not to be touched, they are partly to blame."

EXCUSE SIR, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY ON CAMERA FOR A DOCUMENTARY?!?!

Then he keeps talking about the event was an overall success & blames the artists for riling up the crowd (bruh you booked a load of bands that are angry. Korn. Dmx. Rage Against the Machine. Limp fucking Bizkit. What did you expect them to do? Come out and play fucking folk music? No. Their brand is fucking anger.) & of course the media for 'blowing it way out of proportion & scewing the narrative by only interviewing artists who were upset/angry.'

But every artist who was interviewed in present day was like "Yeah the energy of the crowd was fucking insane & hostile." Artists kept having to begin sets or stop mid-set to be like "Hey man! I'm seeing a lot of chicks getting groped while they crowd surf or out there enjoying the music. That shit is unacceptable. They deserve to enjoy themselves without getting groped. Ladies, if a dude crowd surfs by you, grab his fucking balls! Equality, right ladies?!" (This particular quote was from Dexter Holland mid-set with The Offspring. God love him.)

In short, good doc if you aren't triggered by such things, especially if you watched it in real time back in 99. Absolutely worth it for the Dave Munstaine shade. I'm still reeling about that. Fucking brilliant.

Dave, I know you're nearly my dad's age, but call me. I've loved you since i was like 6 yrs old.

(I also loved Sebastian Bach of Skid Row at the time, but let's keep that on the down low. What can I say, I love musicians with good hair.)

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smallestclowninthecircus · 3 years

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Season 4 notes

Ep 121: mmmm tape recorder turning on without them knowing goes brrr. AAAhjhdsjfhjdf "do you mind if i call you jon" its like "can i call you elias?" is this the dream guy with the tendrils? who wants to bet the boat is captained by peter lukas? big man if it killed yall how are you still here. oh boy the tape is doin that thing. who do we think it is? did he wake up? hmm. ep 122: lol jon. 6 months!?!? bruh quit movin big man. he just Knows things sometimes you know how it is. nah b/c i can relate to feeling like other ppl/ things arent real, thats the biggest mood BUT i think it is kinda pretentious to entertain the idea that youre the only Real person. If you dont see a body dont believe it. i'll hold out hope for a bit. theres not a new archivist is there? surely i wouldve heard about that. oh god peter what changes did you make. ep 123: web development. hope its about spiders. she blames him. bruh why. if they hadnt done anything the world would've ended piss off melanie. why are ppl acting like he chose to be in a coma for 6 months. we know this they just appear. no longer "head archivist of the magnus institute, london" now he's just "the archivist" covered in spiders? cuz ik the spider has to do with controlling what youre doing and all this stuff but i cant think of how this connects to that. ep 124: ugh vertigo. is michael crew an old man? oooh. fairchild. how did he know it was martin? hmm. GRR I LOST MY NOTES AGAIN. FROM EPISODE 125 - part of 131. ep 131: bruh he's so hard to understand big man ur voice is so low. Jared Hotworth. the boneturner. "the ones i helped find their proper bodies" name a better top surgeon? our favorite trans ally? ep 132: woo field trip into the coffin! static lol. he says "chill out im just poppin in for a quick recall mission" is the rib thing actually gonna work? bruh it feels so odd and contrived but he's an odd man with some odd powers so idk. rip that archivist ayyy statement time. voices? recordings? are those tape recorders? was it the tape recorders? did they pull him back? i hope so b/c if the rib thing actually worked im gonna be so disappointed. ep 133: predicting the lonely? tundra. like the lukases. hmm. sanikova! like sanikov land. so its the hunt? i suppose? yeah. so daisy's clearly rejecting the hunt, which makes sense cuz she doesnt seem to like the entities that much. wait so are we just not gonna talk abt all the tapes playing on the ground?? no? ep 134: not an archival assistant anymore? Adelard Decker (or however you spell it) i recognize that name. 15th power. i was right there are 15. the extinction? im trying to remember what ive heard. oooh spooky. no i gotta be real i dont understand this fear but i'll believe you that its a thing. ew lukas is so squealy. lukas can turn invisible? oh boy. oooh martin put the tape recorders there. lol lukas is worried he's gonna be an avatar of the eye. ep 135: yoo its the third Daedalus statement! maxwell rayner (reiner? reigner?) i dont know who that is but ik its somebody. is he the cult leader guy? church of the divine host? 4 people?? what? did they kidnap somebody and keep them up there?? oh dear jon are you dying? did he try to See or Know or whatever? why does everyone call basira detective lol. ep 136: he was the one from the spider movie that ate ppl right? the special effects artist? is it annabelle cane? "its a joke jon" lol. hmm they wanted to record the therapy session with melanie? i wonder who that is. i almost wanna guess annabelle cane but im not sure. ep 137: this is the one! he went to the other place and read the war statement but it wasnt the one she took. not the music again. sounds like the slaughter. who the heck is eric lol. "the watcher's crown" like the crown of eyes we saw in the piccrew ep 138: oh boy Robert Smirk time. is that elias? as unhelpful as usual. if new powers can be "born" can others die out? did jonah magnus wear the watchers crown? maybe they were born from our fear or maybe our fears were born from them. ceaseless watcher does ceaselessly watch so. idk what you want

big man. yeah jonah for sure did something. ep 139: agnes!! lol that one dude threw off all their plans thats so funny. BUT this does tell us something. the tree in the backyard of the hilltop house? not made by her. it going down didnt kill agnes. im guessing gertrude tied agnes to the house using the tree? u good jon? cuz every time you try to Know smth intentionally it seems like it causes you great pain. how come he can do it accidentally with no problem but the second he wants to know smth of plot relevance he gets a headache or whatever ep 140: lol pagan exultation. classic. "oh thats my rib" lmaoo. ppl are always so mad at jon and his Eye powers except when it benefits them. they're like "oh you shouldnt do that its not right" and then all of a sudden they want to know something and its all "oh cmon jon its the only way" ep 142: oh god jon what did you do. its interesting she's giving her statement in the way that they do when jon Asks. did he see her in the Coffin? and so he's following her? ok cmon jon you're supposed to let them come to you. lmao ikr martin. "start to hear the blood" "suure." lmao ep 143: lol that awkward moment when gertrude is already dead. big J if you die im gonna kill you. bruh. ayo helen? i guess it worked? ep 144: lol this reminds me of that one edgar allan poe story where he kills the old dude with the weird eye. spooky music stuff. lol thats my favorite symptom of a heart attack its hilarious. so its smth abt the location probably? bro i feel like you should write down the numbers idk. 162830165049 564846474827. seems like the distortion? like the kinda thing that causes you to go crazy because of the numbers. oh boy is it the extinction again. bro what?? im?? his dad just died and he's like eh. martin dont be mean. he's being all lonely again. big man ur pushing ppl away. oh god its fucking squealy boy. ep 145: that almost sounds like breekon/hope... Arthur? agnes. aah was he from the lightless flame cult. a tree. lol he's just ranting rn. hehehe fuck landlords amirite. yay someone tells jon outright to go to therapy. now do it big man. ep 146: oh great! the distortion! i'm making a spiral themed building in mc right now! jon maybe accept you did a bad? nah this goes back to what i said before. they're fine with him compelling ppl when its convenient for them but otherwise its "no jon you cant, youre a monster jon" the tapes didnt turn on. i spose that means its not important? i agree with daisy, this seems unecessarily dangerous. ep 147: is that a tape? the first tape? well that went better than i expected tbh. BAHAKJASHDJKF she did the "can i call you jon" like nikola says "elias, can i call you elias?" damn annabelle is such a girlboss. oh! the one thing from the picrew. its been a while since ive connected smth to that. lol all the other avatars always talk abt their patron so lovingly and the jon just. absolutely hates the eye. ep 148: lol thats the most elias thing. "i just like the way it sounds" ep 149: did he disappear? bruhh. ur lonely powers are popping off i guess. oops i accidentally deleted my notes for 150 - 152 ep 153: thats the cult right? yeah. it doesnt sound like the church of the divine host? idk. if it is the church of the divine host then they worship the dark right? so is the eleventh the dark star or wtvr? it almost sounds like the corruption b/c of the oil or grease or whatever. oh dear what happened. oh its the hunters. theyre so annyoing. not an "it" he has a name. he's a person. is this a page from the skin book? ep 154: oh shit this is gerry's dad! oh shit he quit! oh dear god. jon don't you do it. haha martin. yeahhhh... is he gonna tell the others? cuz you know theyre gonna get mad if he doesnt. oh also picrew connection! the bandages over the eyes? yeah thats this im guessing. ep 155: oh good he told them. oh my god what did you do. lol i have no mouth and i must scream. nah you get none of my sympathy you're straight up murdering ppl. its like the desolation, destroying lives to sustain your own. ok but taking their statements doesnt

kill them. oh... bye melanie. ep 156: lmao imagine if the tape recorder spoke back. oh boy decker! i swear we got a statement from him already. oh god mirrors scary. They're gonna eat the body arent they. Yup... sounds like the flesh or the slaughter, but I'm not sure. Could be the extinction for sure. Smth at the center! Like Helen mentioned. God Peter you dick. Ep 157: peter's just so :/ another decker statement i see. a statement about the corruption? hmm. maybe its not abt the corruption. the extinction. lol pandemics. topical. John Amherst. helen? lol i can hear admiral purring in the background. oh cmon helen dont be like that. im trying real hard to like you but you make it so difficult. ep 158: did they fucking free the stranger? im gonna lose it. you absolute dumbass. im sorry who is that? jonah magnus? my guy. peter. you absolute dickhead. that's elias. (im p sure i had this spoiled for me that elias is jonah) oh dear this is her death. god peter you prick. i hope this is a pop off martin moment and not a "martin you idiot" moment. i hope the hunters kill the stranger entity. or she kills them. furry daisy pop off! yeah fuck you peter martin can make his own decisions. you know that clip from Twisted where jafar says "ok what the fuck was that" martin D: ok like i know its gonna work but still D: D: ep 159: peter you bitchboy. because if im alone i cant hurt anyone else. imnotgonnacryimnotgonnacryimnotgonnacry do it do it do it do it. pop off jon. ok its a pretty good idea for a ritual i gotta be honest. she didnt even have to blow it up lol. oh dear that was certainly a noise. "he gets you" did he not have jon already? he's back! our boy is back! awwww thats so cute. ep 160: oh right this is the thing in the safe house. i love him. "obviously im going to tell you if i see any good cows" martin my beloved <3 :)) oh boy who is this. fuckin. people. jonah you dick. gahh. you can tell he's trying to resist so hard lol. ohh. hehe keep an *eye* on him. altho if the extinction is a real thing he needs to be marked by that right? lol he sounds so intense im sorry- i want martin to just burst in and be like "look at this cow i saw!" its so dramatic and for why.

#tma notes #tma

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zankivich · 4 years

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Corona Diares pt 2: An Arrangement Sequel

a/n: Hello. Something must be in the air. OR, you’re all trapped in your houses and paying my pics more attention than when I actually wrote them lol. Either way I felt inspired to write this and would LOVE to point out that I planned this entire chapter out before the the S + C bullshit was even a thing. I quite enjoy this. I love talking about mental health. It’s so serious and so underrepresented and so poorly represented. I wanted to show a black woman dealing with it and one way, not the only way, that a partner can be supportive during that. If you like it let me know. And if you have ANY ideas for this series please please please share them with me because this was the last idea I had. K bye!

WARNINGS: Depression, discussions of mental health, a very worried husband just wanting to love his wife

*Shawn’s point of view*

After the first month, he notices a change. When they can no longer go out to the store to shop anymore and have to get everything delivered. No more throwing random things at her to build dishes around. When she can’t go to get her hair done, or go on friendship dates with Ti. She gets a little down, not as energetic and bubbly as is her nature. Even the level of sass she seemed to whip at him with incredible comedic timing was at odds. It’s not that he’s not enough for her, it’s just that all the other parts of her life outside of him seem to dry up. There’s not much managing to do, beyond giving their artists a break. Her world domination halts when the world does. And what he’s left with is a rare and devastating vision. A depressed y/n.

At first he’s not super concerned. The whole world was turned upside down. They were witnessing history on a day-by-day basis. Who wasn’t a little sad?! At first, she just takes a little longer to get out of bed. So, he cooks them breakfast after his morning workout. But then she starts to zone out for shorter and then longer periods of time. One day he notices that for an hour during a movie, she just stares out the window. Barely blinking. Never moving. Just sat still. And then come the naps.

“Babe, I have a headache. I’m gonna go lie down for a little while, okay?” She murmured, placing her hand on his shoulder as she stood up.

He peered up at her with concern.

“Of course. You want me to make you some peppermint tea? We can watch movies in bed if you want. I’ll rub your back.”

She smiled a smile so small it barely touched her face. It was nothing like the beautiful wide-toothed grin he fell so deeply in love with.

“You’re incredible, but I think I just need to lie in the dark for a little while. I’ll feel better and then we make some fresh gnocchi for dinner.”

Her gnocchi was one of his favorites. So, of course he nodded and kissed her fingers as she slipped away. He tried his best to stay quiet the rest of the day, sticking to the other side of the house as he played guitar, or video games, or piano. As the day grew later, he went about prepping the potatoes for the gnocchi. He cleaned, scrubbed, and pierced the potatoes before placing them in the oven to bake. He even went about setting up the pans, olive oil, salt. Anything they might need. He grated the parm himself.

When the potatoes had but about ten minutes left to go, he finally made his way upstairs. Their bedroom was dark, the light outside the hallway even turned off. He flicked it on as he stepped quietly inside on raised toes. She was on her side of the bed curled up in the entirety of their comforter. Her bonnet was missing, something he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before. He wasn’t nervous yet though, so he just assumed it had fallen off in her movement.

“Sweetheart. Hey, I went ahead and got everything prepped for dinner. I thought we could listen to some records while we cook? Maybe open a bottle of wine if you want.”

Her eyes opened. And she looked near him. But she was completely and utterly away. Like her body was a shell and she’d fallen within the depths of herself, hidden away and unwilling to come out. She took one look at him and shook her head before rolling to the otherside of the bed.

“I can’t.”

“Oh...Okay. Well how about I do the cooking, give you a little more time to rest. I’ll come get you after.”

“No Shawn I...I can’t.” She whispered.

This is where the worry started to creep in. Let’s just say he was very good at worrying.

“What is it? Is it your head still? Maybe you should take something.”

“I just...You gotta leave me alone for now, okay? I need to sleep.”

And that was where things started to shift. Because she sounded broken. Not sick, not hurt, but just absolutely broken. Like she might cry if he asked her again, might completely break down and never come back to herself. The most surprising piece of this new territory that he found himself in was that...she didn’t want him near. In a relationship where every pain, every fear, every insecurity thus far had been comforted, if not cured, by the presence of the other, for the first time in his marriage, his wife wanted to be away from him in the midst of her sadness. This was a phenomena he knew nothing about how to manage

He goes back to the kitchen and busies his hands with gnocchi, in part because he had nothing better to do, and in part because he thought he might freak out if he didn’t. Silly him for thinking the concentration on the physical could do anything to silence his mental. At first he wondered if it might be the virus, and that was a terrifying thought all on its own. y/n had made it clear from the jump that their celebrity would not be an excuse for privilege in the face of death caused by oppression. They had not been tested for the virus when half the industry had without symptoms. Even in Canada where healthcare was far better, she was more concerned with donating to others. But she wasn’t exactly showing symptoms, and she didn’t really seem sick. More than anything he couldn’t shake the loneliness in her eyes. Like he could hug her for hours and it wouldn’t make a bit of difference. That wasn’t a virus. That was something else.

So as the fear of the virus hitting the love of his life ebbed, what remained in its place was a sort of terror about the unknown. And he tried to be positive, tried to imagine the next morning when she’d come bounding down the stairs singing a song beneath her breath and looking for eggs for breakfast. However, Shawn couldn’t shake the idea that his wife was experiencing something new entirely, something that she herself may have never navigated before. And he simply may have no idea how to help her out of it. He was scared shitless.

*Three Days Later*

She hasn’t left the room once. In the middle of day two he had insisted on taking her temperature. She wasn’t even ninety-eight degrees. No dry cough. No trouble breathing or wheezing or anything. She was physically fine in the technical sense. But God was she far from fine. On the third day, he was so terrified he didn’t know what to do. So, he reached for the blanket and tried to wiggle it away from her. The result was catastrophic. She just absolutely fell apart. She cried and cried and cried until her cheeks were soggy, until her eyes were red, and all she could do was stare at him in helplessness.

“Why? Why are you doing this to me?” She cried at him.

He had never seen her so quiet. So timid. So dull. It was everything that she wasn’t, and it shook him to his very core.

“Please. Y/n I love you so much. Y--You’re scaring me, sweetheart. I just want to help. You’ve been lying in bed for three days now and I’m trying to help. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll fix it okay? I need you to tell me what’s happening.”

She shook her head and rolled onto her back, legs curled awkwardly beneath themselves. He sees a tear pool on the apple of her cheek and then spill over and down the side of the face he hadn’t kissed in days.

“Don’t you understand? You can’t fix it. They’re dying Shawn. They--they’re gonna die.”

“Who’s gonna die?”

Her face crumpled then and she covered her mouth as a sob let loose that cracked into his chest and tore open his own heart.

“All of those people. Who can’t afford to stay home from the restaurants, from the grocery stores. The people who got fired and can’t afford rent. The people without homes, without safety nets. They’re gonna die. Because we allowed them to. Because we created a system that needs their death to remain sustainable. They’re gonna die. And then we’re gonna die. And it’s all gonna be for nothing. The protesting, the political statements in interviews, the canvassing door to door. It will mean nothing under eradication.”

This wasn’t pessimism under a patriarchal, racist system. This wasn’t y/n on her soap box complaining about the white man, or teaching him about the intersections of oppression. This was something different entirely. This was like watching the love of his life suffocate. He was literally watching her worry herself into a frenzy.

“Y/n, you have to breathe. You’re not breathing.” He mumbled crawling deeper into the bed to get beside her.

She shook her head vigorously back and forth, the tears pooling into puddles on their bed.

“I can’t--I can’t see my way out of it. It’s like... it’s crushing me from above and below. Like I’m sandwiched between it. T--there’s no light. There’s nothing.”

“Okay, okay just uh--give me a second to think...Can I lie down next to you?”

She shrugged more than nodded, but he took it for what it was and crawled in next to her. His thumb wiped at her cheeks, chasing away the tears as she worked to breathe. Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession. And all he could do was reach out and place his hand slowly over her heart, his lips falling to her ear. Everything was measured, intentional, because he didn’t want to scare her anymore.

“I used to have panic attacks as a kid. Listen to the way that I breathe. Try to match it. Don’t focus on getting it right, just do your best. I’m right here, okay?” He whispered. “Your body knows how to breathe. You just have to remember.”

He took a few deep breaths, slowly in and out against her ear. Her heart was hammering, and he knew that before they addressed the existential dread, he needed to calm her heart down. He was glad that in that moment her hand wasn’t on his chest, because she might feel the way that his heart beat just as fast. He was terrified, not of her, but for her. He knew this was the “in sickness and health” part of the deal, and more than anything he just wanted to be good to her. He didn’t want to see her suffer. So despite the crippling fear of getting it wrong, of saying the wrong thing, he had to try. He’d do anything for her.

“Find something to focus on.” He offered still breathing in and out in exaggerated slowness. “I--It can be the ceiling, or anything really as long as it’s not moving. Sometimes it helps. You’re doing good. It’s gonna be okay, babe.”

At first she just flounders. Y/n was a woman good at most things with an ease and precision that could make him feel insecure at times. In this moment though she just couldn’t seem to get the hang of it no matter what she did. Every moment she didn’t succeed only seemed to ramp her heart rate up further.

When she chooses to look at him, to use him to focus, he almost cries. But instead he smiles at her. And he keeps breathing with her. And slowly, slowly, slowly, she floats back down to him. And she sort of just collapses on his chest in a mangled heap. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It’s okay.” He whispered kissing at her hair. “I’m right here, my love.”

And she falls asleep again there. With him holding her. He’d rather it be that way. He can only hopes she feels the same

***

He puts out a call on instagram and twitter. He doesn’t name names, but he asks some of his friends if they were experiencing anything like y/n, or if they knew how to help loved ones who were. The next day, he lets her stay in bed just because it breaks his heart when she cries. And also in the hope that he could do a little digging to get her some help.

He’s on an instagram live playing guitar and staring off into space with a blunt in his mouth when the chat starts going crazy.

“What’s going on guys?” He asked, reaching to scroll past the words.

He just kept seeing the words GAGA over and over again. In hindsight it may have been obvious, but he was a bit of a dumbass...and stoned.

“Gaga? What does that stand for? Is that some sort of internet slang I’m already too old to understand?”

He pulled the phone closer to his face and finally saw someone who said: No dumbass. Lady Gaga is in the chat and she wants to speak with you. Woops.

“Holy shit.”

It takes him honest to god ten minutes to figure out how to get her into the video. His fans make no qualms about laughing at him while he does it either. Eventually she’s there and it’s like the first human connection he’s had in days. And he can’t quite explain it but there’s a part of him that wants to cry.

“Hello Lady! I hear you like to be called Lady, is that okay?” He asked.

She smiled through the tiny image on the screen and gave a slight nod.

“Lady is perfectly fine. Your wife calls me Lady all the time...Actually she likes to call me lil Lady. She’s the only one who gets to call me that though.”

“Sounds like her. I’ll stick to Lady then. H--How are you doing right now? Thank you for joining me here.”

“Of course, of course. You know I saw what you posted on twitter the other day and I’ve just been thinking about it so much. I wanted to give it some genuine thougth before I responded, and then I saw you were going live, so I thought I’d give it a shot.” She explained. “It’s hard isn’t it? I’m healthy and I’m safe and I can take care of my family, so I’ve got nothing to worry about. But uh people are dying. And people don’t have the same resources we have, so I just kind of feel like a piece of shit most days. Like I gotta do something ya know?”

He takes a breath so deep it stuns him a little. His fingers still on the guitar and he just looks up at the ceiling and nods. She gets it. Maybe better than he does. Definitely better than he does.

“I do. My uh--y/n. She said the other day that it’s like we allowed it to happen. We as in society, the big ‘we’. And we did in a way. It’s in who we vote into office, who we confront about their world views, who we question and who we don’t. It kind of feels like a culmination of what a lot of us have been saying for a long time. And nobody would listen. Nobody would change. And so this is the card we’ve been dealt.” He sighed. “But you’re right. It’s not gonna be me, or you, or any of the assholes in office. I--It’s gonna be the people we were fighting alongside the whole time. The people without a fanbase, or the ability to write a check. So what the fuck do we do?”

It’s the wildest thing. He’s talking to Lady Gaga, but she’s got no make up on and she’s sitting cuddled up on her couch in glasses. And he’s at home in his studio. The only place where he makes sense. And they’re talking through the hurt together. It’s a collective hurt that seems to permeate through the screen. But at least they can wrestle with it together.

“I think we have to be willing to put ourselves on the line. We got to stand up and offer what we can, because it’ll always be more. And not like the bullshit sing a longs ya know? Like dollars, and pushing of the political agendas, and more dollars. That’s only way we get out of this, all of us, together.”

She’s kind of a genius. The way she spoke reminded him of y/n and the way she would talk sometimes. It was the kind of way of speaking that made you know she could change the world. And it only hurt his heart all the more that she was in such a space.

“Can I ask you a mental health question?”

“Oh of course?”

“I know that you’ve been open with your own experience andI guess I was just wondering… well first how you’re doing in this moment? And then I have someone close to me who’s really struggling under the weight of all of these things we’re talking about. And I don’t really know how to help them, but I really want to.”

She took him seriously which was nice and listened empathetically in a way that didn’t make him feel so alone.

“Absolutely. You know it’s--it’s hard to get out of bed some days. And some days I don’t. For me personally, channeling my energy towards finding funding and aid for people has been helpful. I’m an italian girl so I want to fix shit immediately ya know?” She giggled. “So I’m doing okay today, and I’ve learned to be happy with where I’m at, to try not to push myself towards something I don’t have. Is your loved one okay?”

He could feel the part of himself that was being pulled towards the stairs to get to her. He could still remember the whine she let out when he asked her if she wanted to shower that day. His heart hurt for her and because of her, as it belonged to her.

He shook his head softly and she frowned back at him.

“She--They haven’t gotten out of bed in four days now. N--not really eating. Cries a lot, and they’re really not a big crier. I just wanna make it better, but I guess I don’t know how.” He mumbled. “It’s hard to tell ‘em it’s gonna be better when it feels like that might never happen ya know?”

She nods and suddenly it’s like a huge therapy session for him, which only makes him feel a bit more like a piece of shit. But he’d do anything if it meant she felt better.

“Let me guess. You tried giving her space? Thought maybe she’d snap out of it?”

He gets the feeling she knows exactly who he’s talking about it and the pretenses sort of melt away.

“Yea. It’s kind of driving me crazy though. We’re not really the distance type.”

“Of course.” She smiled. “I can’t really explain what’s going on in her head. It’s different for everybody. What I can offer is only a suggestion if what’s currently happening isn’t working. Just go lie next to her. It might not be today. It might not be this week, but there are moments in and out of it--kinda like a fog? And in those moments of clarity, Shawn? There is nothing worse than finding yourself alone. I can promise you that.”

He nods, hanging onto every word that she speaks. In all honesty the genius of women had never gone unnoticed to him. It was a part of what always made him realise what an idiot his father was.

“Look, still get up. Work out. Shower. Eat. But when you can...be there. And let me know if that helps. In the meantime I think I’ve got a bit of an idea, would you mind if I sent you something?”

“Absolutely. Send away.”

The second the livestream ends he makes his way upstairs. She’s sat on his side of the bed this time, which makes him wonder what’s going on in her head. It’s clear that she’s awake, so he climbs in slowly after her. But this time he doesn’t press, doesn’t beg, doesn’t coax. He simply goes back to plucking at the strings of his guitar. And the reality is that nothing happens. He honestly doesn’t know if he helps even in the slightest. But he’s there. And that’s all that he could offer. He just hoped it was enough.

***

Day six she snuggles into his side for the entirety of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. She’s asleep, but it’s a win.

Day seven she lets him open the curtains for a while.

Day eight she asks him if they can take a bath. He gets a little overzealous. Pulls out the bubbles and the bath salts and the bath bombs. In the end, when she takes her bonnet off for the first time, her curls are flattened and stuck together. He asks if he can wash it for her. She pauses but tells him she’s afraid she won’t be able to get out of bed again to rinse out a deep condition. So they make a deal to sit in the tub long enough for the conditioner to penetrate, and then he rinses it for her. She spends a long time with her head pressed against his chest, bubbles popping into thin air against their skin.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, tears welling up again. “‘M so sorry.”

“Shhh. I love you more than life. I’d do this every day. I don’t need an apology okay?”

The bath drains her. He gets her into a robe and she crawls immediately back into bed. There’s no time to detangle her hair for her. She goes to sleep and lets her curls mat against the pillow. He doesn’t stop her.

Day nine she comes downstairs for lunch. He makes her soup. She finds an old loaf of bread and drizzles olive oil over it before broiling it. It’s the first cooking she’s done in days and he beams with pride, he’s sure of it. They get her hair detangled together. She cries at the puff of hair that comes from the comb. He holds her for a while and then helps her back up the stairs.

Day ten is a movie on the couch.

Day eleven she walks around outside with him.

It sometimes feels like the tiniest of steps, but every day seems to get a little bit better. She cries and sleeps and still seems to think herself into a frenzy, and yet he gets to see her slowly come back to herself. It’s not until two full weeks after the first incident that she finally talks to him about any of it.

He was in the bathroom shaving and she walked in on socked feet wearing one of his sweatshirts and apparently nothing else. He could still only beam at her like crazy. It was practically in his DNA to be smitten by that woman.

“Hi.” She whispered to him in the mirror.

“Hello. I like your sweatshirt by the way.”

She smiled. The first smile he’d seen in weeks. And it drove him giddy. So giddy he slipped and cut himself like an idiot.

“Ah shit.” He mumbled touching at the cut.

“Are you alright?” She asked him and reached on her toes to touch his shoulders.

He couldn’t quite explain the intimacy her touch brought. Or how starved he’d felt of the feeling. Truly the thought had never occurred to him in the past few weeks. Despite their active and frankly adventerous sex-life, a day hadn’t gone by when he thought about anything but her wellbeing. So why, oh why was he ready to fall to his knees and cry for her off the touch of a goddamn shoulder?

He nodded shakily. “Just a knick, sweetheart. You look...you seem--you know? Good today. Better than the past few days.”

“Yea I--I feel different. Good different.”

“Yea?”

She peered up at him. “Yea. But maybe I should let you finish up here. I could make us some eggs and toast maybe? I--I don’t think I’m ready for much else.”

“Eggs and toast sound great. I’ll be right down.”

“Okay.”

She nodded to herself like she needed the confirmation that she could do it before turning on her heel.

“Y/n?”

“Yea?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

“I still don’t really know what happened. I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”

He reached for the hand not occupied with playing with her eggs and squeezed.

“Did you ever have depression or anxiety before? Maybe to a lesser degree?”

Y/n snorted. “Depression? Anxiety? In my mother’s household? I love her dearly but black mothers aren’t exactly rolling out the welcome mat to therapy. My mother had one goal, to keep a roof over my head, and she didn’t make room for much else. We didn’t have time to be sad.”

He frowned. “Darling that sounds...honestly kind of terrible.”

“Maybe. But it’s the reality I grew up in. Depression has always been a white folks thing.”

“Well last I checked depression doesn’t know color, babe. And I think the fact that you lied in bed for two weeks means that there’s something bigger at play here.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. And he knew she was back by the way that eyebrow told him every word that would come out of her mouth before she said it.

“You know you’ve gotten bolder since you married me? I don’t like it.” She whined.

He chuckled softly and reached to push her dish out of reach. She’d taken to playing with the leftover scraps so that she didn’t have to look him in the eye, but he desperately needed her attention.

“If anything I’ve only fallen more in love with you. And I just wanna understand. I wanna help. If that means getting you to understand that you, my beautiful, intelligent wife are not immune to depression and anxiety, then I’m sorry we’ll simply have to work through it. I’m only interested in what’s best for you, you know that.”

She bit her lip and squeezed his hands, intertwining their fingers across the table. Her mouth dips into a frown as she finally reflects on her emotions.

“I just kept thinking about it. I mean constantly. I--I couldn’t stop. And it...made me sadder than I’ve ever been in my life.” She whispered. “Even now I’m imagining bodies. When I close my eyes that’s what I see. And I don’t know their names, I don’t know their faces, but I can feel their pain. And it is absolutely insufferable. It’s like this big, huge brick. And I can’t move it. I can’t get rid of it. It’s just there. All the fucking time.”

“That sounds terrifying baby.” He sighed holding onto her tighter. “I--I’m so sorry that you’re feeling this way.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? See a therapist in the middle of a pandemic? Whine about my sadness while we live in a mansion and fucking cook all day while healthcare frontliners are pulling twenty-four hour shifts, and people can’t afford their bills? I don’t do this, Shawn. This isn’t me.” She sniffled.

He let go of her hands and wiped at her tears instead. This felt like a moment best spent with her cheeks in his palms anyway.

“Hey, having money doesn’t mean you don’t get to feel. In fact I think you’re the person who taught me that. What you’re feeling right now is nothing less than a product of your empathy and your willingness to care for people you’ve never even met. You need to be fucking kinder to yourself, do you hear me? It’s my wife you’re talking about.” He smiled. “We’ll get you whatever you need. But we will get it, and you don’t need to feel bad about that. I promised you the world didn’t I?”

She sighed and took a deep breath to calm herself, always feeling quite silly when he held her face that way. It’s why he did it.

“I do remember something to that effect.” she said dryly.

“Good. Now perhaps I could kiss you? It’s been quite a while for me.”

“It has...You may proceed.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” He chuckled and kissed her silly at the dining room table. “Hey I think I have an idea to balance how you’re feeling and still get you the help that you need.”

“Oh god. Every time you have an idea it always ends up with me having a damn heart attack.”

“I’ll keep the paddles near by.”

“Not funny!”

***

*y/n’s point of view*

Leave it to Lady Gaga to try and save the world. And leave it to her to reach out to Shawn and ask for your help when you couldn’t get out of bed. Women really do it all.

She called on a Sunday. She said she was sick of the instalives and the donation swipe up buttons and the rally cries that we were all in the same boat. She wanted to use her privilege, her money, and her big ass mouth to really get some change made. But she couldn’t do it alone. She had three people helping her thus far and they’d raised twenty million already. But, the reality was that the pandemic was disproportionately impacting black and brown bodies. If the thought of the pain and the death was really getting to you, this was essentially your shot to make some good out of it.

So, you went all out. Tyler Perry gave ten million up front. Normani donated five hundred thousand. Michael B. Jordan gave a million. Chadwick added two. Oprah heard Tyler gave ten so she gave fifteen. The messaging was simple. Our people are hurting, it’s our responsibility to help the very communities that no one else will. Besides, Shawn and you were putting up another ten million yourselves. Excuses were minimal.

Every one of your artists joined in on the One World: Together at Home, including the big man himself with the piano you bought him for your anniversary. It really was an amazing experience. That didn’t mean you were fixed though. Usually work in the midst of anything going on in your life was your MO, but you couldn’t manage to kick this one. There were still days where you just needed to sleep and sleep and try to forget the world was in turmoil. And the hardest part is seeing him lean over to your side of the best and whisper in your ear asking if there was anything he could do. There was so rarely anything he could do.

There’s a therapist. Black. Female. Located in Toronto but she was raised in Alabama. Shawn finds her when you don’t get out of bed again. It’s the most stern your husband had ever been with you, and even that was full of devastatingly warm gooiness.

“You need to talk to someone. And I understand that it can’t be me. I understand it needs to be someone who gets it and who can connect with you in all the ways that you’re hurting right now. So we’ll set up the zoom calls on the tv in your office, you can close the door; we never even have to talk about what goes on during your sessions. But, baby I...I can’t watch you just be in pain like this. Not anymore, okay? So you’re going to therapy dammit, do you hear me?”

And that’s the story of how you got a therapist for the first time in your life. Men. So dramatic.

***

Permanent taglist

@simpledomain @liliane106 @thecurlsofgod @kamahriii @sinplisticshawn @lifeoftheparty74 @xeuphorically-moonstruck@euphoric05 @daijanicole @bruhh-whateven @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @decewill @goldiean @bitchacho25 @bruhh-whateven @justbeingoceana @loveylangdon @iloveshawnieboi@justbeingoceana @september-lace @valedictorian65 @disaster-rose @dimestorebieber22 @MixerMani @qcoachcartier @kamahriii @sinplisticshawn @lifeoftheparty74@justbeingoceana

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#shawn #shawn mendes #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fandom #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes x oc #shawn mendes x black reader #shawn mendes x black woman #shawn mendes x black oc #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes oneshot #arrangement fic

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babyboy-bangtan · 4 years

Photo

By Chance Chapters 9-10

A misunderstanding gone viral puts you on BTS’s radar, which leads to a series of events that finally culminate with you meeting them for the first time.

✚ Pairing: Sub!BTS/Female Reader ✚ Word Count: 2.8K ✚ Rating: M ✚ Warnings: None. ✚ A/N: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Read on AO3 / Chapters 1-4 / Chapters 5-8

Chapter 9: The Guests

"Do you already know which artist is performing that day?" Your friend asks over the phone while you eat your toast with one hand and hold a script with the other. Reading it doesn't need your full attention, and based on what this movie seems to be about it doesn't look like it deserves it anyway.

"No, not yet." You reply absentmindedly, taking another bite of your toast while seriously contemplating just giving up on this script halfway through reading it. You doubt it's redeemable at this point. "It's in like a month anyway. They said they would tell me first before announcing it, though."

"This is so exciting!" She almost squeals, and you close the script before throwing it in the trash. You lost count of how many times it was written that the male protagonist couldn't keep his eyes from your cleavage. "I can't believe you're hosting again. I've been waiting for this to happen for years!" You can't help but laugh at her dramatics.

"It feels as surreal as the first time, honestly." You eat the last bite of your toast and pour yourself another glass of orange juice. You did enough freaking out to last a lifetime when you hosted the show for the first time a couple years ago, so this time you're excited but definitely not on the verge of a nervous breakdown like last time.

"Who do you think will be performing?" She asks, and you realize that you hadn't thought about that at all. "Oh my god what if it's BEYONCÉ?" She damn near screams that last part, and your brain immediately screams NO at that. You're still embarrassed at what happened last year, and you don't know when you'll be able to face her again without feeling mortified.

"Who knows?" You quickly reply. "Maybe it'll be like Ed Sheeran or something."

"Maybe." She responds, way less excited than when she thought Beyoncé was a possibility. "Anyways, tell me when you know, okay? My break is almost done so I gotta go."

"Will do. Bye, love you!"

"Love you too, bye!" You hang up and stretch your arms over your head, already feeling stressed.

What if it was Beyoncé? It would be the third time you see her and even though she was incredibly lovely when you apologized and explained what happened the first time you met, that did nothing to erase the embarrassment you still feel today. You don't really think she would perform in a regular episode with you as the guest either, but now you can't help but feel anxious about it.

They said they were going to tell you who the artist was in the next few days, so for now all you can do is wait and try to not overthink too much.

Easier said than done.

Three hours ago, taking a nap because it was raining and the temperature had dropped just enough for it to be perfect for sleeping had seemed like a great idea. It's not the first time you do it, the day called for it, and since you didn't have to work today it was okay to relax and rest for a bit considering that in a couple days you'll start shooting again.

Completely harmless.

Except it wasn't.

You wake up thanks to some very loud thunder, and you snuggle deeper into your covers to continue sleeping. Another thunder disrupts you again, so you decide to look at the time and see if it's even worth it to try and sleep some more. But instead of being greeted with the time once you turn your phone on, you're greeted with 50 missed calls and texts from over 30 conversations.

"What the fuck?" You mumble to yourself, rubbing your eyes to try and see a little better.

Around 30 of the missed calls are from friends, and the rest are from your publicist and agent. You scroll down the conversations until you reach the message you got first, and the name makes you think you might understand what happened.

SNL Producer.

2 hours ago.

Hello [Y/N]! I'm just writing you to let you know before we post it on social media, that the musical guest on your episode will be BTS. See you soon!

Well, now you have no doubt that's definitely it.

You read through the messages as fast as you can and manage to reply to several before you're interrupted by your publicist calling.

"Hi, sorry. I was taking a nap." You quickly say.

"Don't worry, I just wanted to let you know that the internet exploded two hours ago."

"Because of BTS?" You ask, pulling the covers off of you and sitting on the edge of your bed. "That's not news, it happens every other week."

"Well, yes, true—" She agrees. "—but we don't care about those times, we care about this now because it involves you." She pauses for a second. "Check what I just sent you." You remove your phone from your ear and put her on speaker before opening the message notification.

It's the screenshot of an Entertainment Weekly tweet.

Exclusive: @BTS_twt and [Y/N] will finally meet and we couldn't be more excited

4,5K replies, 190K retweets, 380K likes.

"How the fuck did that get so many likes?" You blurt out, eyes wide. Your hear your publicist laugh heartily.

"It's more now, actually. The screenshot is from 10 minutes ago. And it's because BTS retweeted it."

"Oh, right." You say, shaking your head at yourself. You should've known. "That makes sense."

"It would be even better if you had a twitter account yourself so you could retweet and even send them someth—"

"My mental health." You interrupt her, rolling your eyes as you fall back again on the bed. You've lost count of how many times she's tried to have you make new accounts already. "Remember how I had to start taking antidepressants because of social media?"

"Right, yeah. The mental health thing." She sighs. "You could always have someone manage them instead of yourself, you know."

"Yeah, and then I'd be constantly checking what's been posted and what people have replied to every post." You hate talking to her about this, because even though she's great at her job and mostly understanding, she still complains about what a loss it is that you're not on Instagram and Twitter.

"Fine. I'll drop it." She pauses for a second. "Anyway, the reason why I called is to know how much do you know about these guys."

"I know a bunch of their songs. I've been listening to that song they did with Nicki, Idol— it's so catchy and the video is so random but so great." You conveniently leave out the detail that the reason you like the video so much is because they look beautiful in those suits while simultaneously looking like the cutest human beings on Earth with their other colorful outfits— especially in those sweaters with cartoon characters and the ripped jeans. "I actually watched a bunch of their music videos back when the whole behind the scenes stuff happened." Moments from their Blood, Sweat and Tears music video pop into your mind, but you immediately redirect your thoughts elsewhere. That video makes you feel way too many things that you should not be feeling while talking to your publicist. "They're so talented." You quickly add, sincerely. "I was thinking about watching some interviews soon to see what they're like. I haven't really watched any of that."

"Good! I was going to tell you to do that. These guys are like a publicity machine. If they approve of you, their fans will like you."

"Weeell..." You say, grimacing a little. You're not so sure about that. "Either that happens or they see me as a threat to them and decide I'm not good enough to be near them, and get a hashtag calling me a demon trending first worldwide."

"Well, based on the replies to that tweet I think many of them are excited. The international fans at least, I don't know about their Korean fanbase."

"And also, do not call them a publicity machine. They're actual people, you know." You sigh. "And that's not the reason why I will try to know more about them. It would be disrespectful to meet them without knowing anything about them. And please, stop seeing artists as only publicity opportunities. I told you I hate that!"

"That's literally my job, love. And whatever your good person reasoning is, I don't care. Just do that." She pauses. "And now I have to leave you, because unlike you I actually have to work today. See ya." She hangs up before you can say anything, and you take a deep breath.

She can be a goddamn handful, but even when she acts without emotions she always does things the way you want them and is very accommodating. She's good at her job.

You finally get out of bed and walk to the kitchen, where you left your laptop. But before you can do anything, you have an incoming FaceTime call from your best friend. She must've just read your reply to her 50 angry texts because you didn't tell her who the guest artist was going to be on your Saturday Night Live episode before the rest of the world found out.

"Heeeeeeey." You say innocently once her face appears on screen.

"Why didn't you tell me?! I had to find out on Twitter!"

"Okay, to be fair, you found out before I did. I was dead asleep when the producer texted me." You leave the phone standing against a glass of water and open your laptop. "So I had no chance to tell you before they announced it."

"Ugh, fine." She groans, rolling her eyes. "Anyways, are you excited?"

"I haven't had a chance to feel anything. I woke up to a thousand texts and calls and then my publicist called me." You open Youtube and start typing BTS to see what suggestions pop up first.

"Oh right, cause you went viral again. People on Twitter lost their shit over it."

"Yeah but they always do when BTS does something so it's not like it's new." You reply, a bit distracted.

BTS on crack?

"Okay, yeah. That's true." She agrees. "What are you doing?"

"Homework." You reply, scrolling through the endless results you got after clicking BTS on crack.

"Alright then, keep your secrets." She jokes, shaking her head. "I have to go anyway, I'm going out tonight." You blow a kiss in her direction.

"Have fun!"

"I always do! Bye!" She hangs up as you open a video titled "bts being crackheads for 5 mins straight".

You only need to watch a couple minutes to realize what type of videos these are. You have seen a couple of yourself that are edited similarly, but they were titled "[Y/N] being chaotic in interviews" and another one about you being extra— and you'd thought they were very funny.

A recommended video catches your eye, because it has hundreds of thousands of views.

RUNBTS 1-23 Best Moments

You have no idea what it is, but judging by the amount of views and the tiny amount of dislikes, it must be something good.

Time to start watching.

Chapter 10: The Surprise

"Do you think he will be angry at us for keeping it as a secret?" Hoseok asks, ear pointed at the bathroom door. He's doing his best to listen if the shower is still running, which means that Jungkook is not coming out just yet.

"No, he'll be too excited to be angry." Namjoon replies, waving his hand dismissively. "Jimin, don't blurt it out as soon as he comes here." He warns him, and Jimin looks completely shocked, not to mention offended. He searches for the support of the other guys with his eyes, but he finds that they're all looking at him the same way Namjoon is.

"What? Me?" He asks, pointing at himself. "Why me?"

"You're a terrible liar when you're excited about something." Taehyung says, and Jimin just stares at him with an angry pout.

"I'm not." He says, crossing his arms.

"You are." Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok and Jin say at the same time. Jimin refuses to dignify that with an answer, so he just stays silent with his angry pout still in place.

"The shower stopped." Hoseok says suddenly, craning his neck to listen better— and everyone goes silent. Not too long after, they hear it opening and Jungkook comes out drying his hair already dressed for bed.

"What's going on?" He asks, stopping suddenly when he sees them all standing there in the most suspicious way possible.

"Nothing!" Jimin suddenly says, way more excited than they had told him he was allowed to look.

"Jungkook, when did you say [Y/N] was going to be on SNL?" Hoseok asks, trying to not give himself away with the tone of his voice.

"April 13, why?" He continues to dry his hair, looking at the boys with narrowed eyes. He doesn't know what they're trying to do, but based on that question it seems like it has something to do with you. Maybe they want to watch the episode with him, since they're going to be in America by the time it airs anyway.

"So, we didn't tell you this before it was truly confirmed because we wanted it to be a surprise..." Namjoon starts, and Jungkook stops his movements.

They can't be telling him what he thinks they're telling him, right?

There's no way.

"But we'll be performing on SNL on April 13." He finishes. The towel drops from Jungkook's hands, and he just stares at them with no clear expression in his face.

"I thought he'd be more excited." Taehyung whispers in a confused tone to Namjoon, who lifts up a finger in response, signaling for him to wait.

"Give him a sec—"

"WHAT?!"

After a lot of happy screaming, a half an hour long videocall to his parents and a big glass of warm milk to calm him down, Jungkook is finally sitting down on the couch with the rest of the boys so they can explain how things went down.

"Jimin-Hyung, I can't believe you didn't tell me." Jungkook says, shaking his head with a surprised smile.

"We wanted to keep it from him, too." Yoongi says. "But he listened to us talking about it and we had to let him in."

"It was really hard to keep it a secret!" Jimin complains. "Because I was so excited. But I did so well, didn't I?" The rest don't really pay attention to him, except for Namjoon, who nods and gives him a thumbs up. Jimin isn't pleased with so little praise, but he takes it anyway. It's better than nothing.

"Ah, I'm so nervous." Jungkook says, unable to stop himself from grinning even though his face already hurts from smiling so much. He brings his knees up to his chest so he can hide his face in them, suddenly blushing. Even after he explicitly heard you talking about them, you still feel so far away from them that it almost doesn't feel real that they're going to meet you in a month.

"She already said she wanted to meet us—" Jin adds casually, and Namjoon has to hold back a sigh of relief because he's finally talking about you without getting nervous two seconds later. "—so you've got nothing to worry about."

He's come a long way since his confession a few months ago— even if Namjoon and Yoongi are still the only ones who know about his secret— and that lifts a huge weight from Namjoon's shoulders. It means that it's less likely he'll become instantly flustered the moment they see you for the first time, because if Jin gets nervous because of you in front of the cameras, everyone will notice and then talk about it— and Namjoon is sure that is the last thing Jin wants.

It doesn't take them long to realize it's futile to try and talk about the logistics of their performance with Jungkook right now, because he's barely paying attention to them. His grin has remained steady and unmoving from the moment they told him they would perform on the same day you're hosting, and they know it's going to continue that way for the next few days.

He'll be able to focus again once the initial shock passes and he finally realizes that yes, this is actually happening.

They are going to finally meet you.

Long after everyone has gone to bed, Jungkook lies still awake in bed, fully aware that he's not sleeping any time soon. He's still feeling giddy with happiness; he can't believe that they're going to actually meet you, and in a place where they will actually get to spend time with you, at that. He will get to talk to you, to actually be close to you and maybe, if he's lucky and brave enough, he might even get to hug you.

He'd fantasized about maybe seeing you in an awards show one day, but this is so much better than anything he could've imagined.

April 13 can't come soon enough.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, asks, whatever you like is more than welcomed!

#sub!bts #sub!idol #bts x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi x reader #jung hoseok x reader #park jimin x reader #kim taehyung x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #my work

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turbobyakuren · 4 years

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Can I ask for some advice? I write short bits of writing every now and then, very short one-shots and one-off OC interactions, and there are large periods of time where I don't write at all due to writer's block, school, or just not feeling it. In spite of this, I've been wanting to create this project of mine that I've been planning for a while and really want to go all out for+ include illustrations, music etc. Do you have any advice to someone trying to be ambitious but very inexperienced?

oh boy, you’re asking the person who’s got almost 6 years of OC Making in her experiences and yet has not done anything due to, like, the same thing you’re stating (writer block, school, or not feeling it).

But i can give a bit of theoretical advice i’ve been trying to apply to my own stuff!

CONSUME MEDIA. This is the easiest step unless you, like me, have watcher’s block (basically wanting to watch or read stuff but can’t put your mind into it bc that’s “not productive”, to which i say BOLLOCKS). Read stuff, watch stuff, and preferably be on the lookout for styles that inspire you. Even if it’s unrelated! Have you ever felt the creation rush after watching a really good movie that spoke to you and you told yourself, “i want to do this!!!”? That’s why i like watching media, bc thereafter i’m inspired. Esp if it’s the kind of genre i love or the themes i (chef kiss). Basically: watch stuff and inspire yourself from them. Have artists and authors you can look up to and say with confidence “i want to do something that would equate to that!“

Do not start with the project, rather start with something small. That’s kinda illogical as an advice, but i think it’s a good one! Because sometimes you just wanna go Ozymandias on that big passion project of yours, and that’s totally understandable. But you also gotta understand that if you’re going ham without having experiences, you’re going to hit into a big wall with “UNREALISTIC EXPECTATIONS” and “TREMENDOUS WORKS I WASNT READY FOR” written on it. Trust me! I’ve hit that wall SO MANY TIMES. So, instead, i think you should conceive a new project, but let it be small! Make a 5 page comic, a 10 page novel, or a 10 minutes long RPG Maker game with default sprites, but have it focused on SOMETHING! Indulge yourself. Limit yourself to a specific genre, a small number of characters who have a codified role (hero, love interest, mentor, etc...), a specific setting with a small number of clear rules. And then go ham! EVEN if it’s not good a concept, EVEN if it’s an overused one, as long as you do something, you’ll get experiences! You’ll find out what you enjoy the most about doing this project, like “character study”, “world building”, “writing big battles”, and this will give you experience, style, focus. And when you’ll get to work on that big OCverse passion project of yours, you’ll know exactly what you want to write and why you’re writing it.

Surround yourself with FRENS who LOVE THY STUFF and can give FEEDBACK, but don’t fall in the trap of giving EVERYTHING because that will lead you to tell them everything about your OCverse and then end up not writing it.

Know your scope! And be aware that your project will take a long time and will evolve in the making. There will be a big gap between how you initially thought your project and how it will end up as. And cherish the process! For example, my favourite game of the moment, Blasphemous took years in making. The kickstarter was launched in 2017, but the project might have started way longer than before. And it’s a passion project, after all! And you want to know what i adore about this passion project? Looking at how it evolved. It went from this simple concept artwork

to this

amazing vast and rich world, full of details. It took years, and it’s very different from how it initially was, but i love how you can feel that they took a lot of time thinking about why they’d change the main character’s design, where to get the inspiration, etc. Okay, it’s a studio of several people who fully dedicated their time to the making of this game, but it’s inspiring NONETHELESS!

If i were to streamline this advice, it would be “STEP ONE: make a first draft to get that stuff out of your mind. STEP TWO: go SHIP OF THESEUS on that first draft and transform it into what you want it to be. STEP THREE: admire how far you’ve come.”

I think these are the 4 tips i’d give (and i’d better follow, too! i’m doing a big “do as i say not as i do” moment here LMAO) to someone stuck in the same situation.

I hope i’m clear enough! Sometimes i ramble on and on and i often don’t make sense. But feel free to come to me at any time, just to chat or anything on that verse, i’d love to be of help and read what you have! It’s very important to, as the french say, “squeeze each other’s elbows”. I can only wish you good luck because we’re all just little Davids against a huge Goliath with “PROCRASTINATION AND BIG EXPECTATIONS” written on it. And it’s up to us to know how to use that slinger well!

#avalonblue12

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365days365movies · 3 years

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April 1, 2021: The Gold Rush (Review)

This is a classic silent film...and that doesn’t make this easy.

This is the first silent film that I’ve covered in this blog. Not the first I’ve ever seen, of course, but the first that I’ve ever had to sit down and review like this. So, before I jump into attempting to judge this film on my own merits, I have a couple things to say. First things first...why didn’t I choose The Kid, Chaplin’s first feature-length comedy film? Why The Gold Rush instead?

Well, chief amongst those reasons is simply the fact that I think this one is more important for me to watch. It’s Chaplin’s third film, he’s already an established star, and he was able to exert a lot of creative influence on this one, making this a good pick to view him as an auteur. It’s lauded as his best film by most people, and it produced one of the most famous scenes in film history (the bread roll dance scene). To be honest...I thought that it would be weirder having not seen this film, and it would be having not seen The Kid. That make any sense? It’s weird, I know.

That’s not to say the The Gold Rush is the last Chaplin movie I’ll ever see. Hell, this month, I have TWO MORE on my list, although we’ll see if I inevitably decide to watch them. I think I will, though, because they’ve been on my list for a while. Although, I’ll have to decide between City Lights and Modern Times...hmmm. We’ll see.

The other thing I want to address is what happened to Chaplin around this time. I hinted at it in the Recap, but I want to elucidate further here. In 1919, Chaplin came up with his plan to make his own film studio, uniting with famous director D.W. Griffith, and famous silent film actress Mary Pickford. This became United Artists, and was meant to allow actors to control their careers and interests, instead of relying on larger studios. And in case you weren’t sure, this studio is indeed still around! Their next film?

Oh, yeah, these are the Bond guys! What was their last film?

Ah. Well. That’s too bad. They also work with LAIKA and MGM, control the Rocky/Creed franchise alongside Bond, and are a pretty successful studio, all things considered! As for Chaplin, he made films with UA starting in 1923, with A Woman in Paris, and ending in 1952, with Limelight. He made 2 more films after this, but I’ll talk about that at a later date.

Once The Kid came out, Chaplin’s studio was a success, and he was a millionaire, and had been married to actress Mildred Harris, with whom he had a child when she was...16, oh NOOOO. That child sadly died a few days later, but their marriage persisted for 2 years, before ending quite bitterly in 1920. Chaplin wasn’t the best partner. But, losing his child ended up fueling his work on The Kid, which was a smash-hit. He wrote a book, he got engaged, he stopped being engaged when he straight-up ghosted that girl, and he filmed the drama A Woman in Paris with UA, and it was another reflection about his life, being about ill-fated lovers. It didn’t do very well.

That was made WAY worse by personal circumstances with newest wife, Lita Grey. Also 16 when they married (compared to Chaplin’s 35, BIG FUCKIN’ YIKES), this was a shotgun wedding of sorts, spurred on by an unexpected pregnancy. The two wed during the end of the production of The Gold Rush. Grey, by the way, was in The Kid, and was ORIGINALLY Georgia in The Gold Rush. But this is Chaplin we’re talking about, of COURSE this marriage was terrible.

See, they ended up having 2 kids within less than a year, because Chaplin was...Chaplin. But Charles HATED spending time with Lita, and spent most of his time away from her at the studio. The Gold Rush replaced Lita for Georgia Hale (an admirer of Chaplin since she was young), and the film was a massive success. And the marriage to Lita ended in a FIERCE divorce, which resulted in Lita taking the kids and leaving a year later in 1926. And that divorce was huge news...but I think I’ll wait to talk about that later.

Let’s get into...oh, God, she was ELEVEN when they started working together on The Kid, and they had a kid together FIVE YEARS LATER??? GROSS, DUDE.

...Let’s get into the Review.

Review

Cast and Acting: 8/10

Charlie Chaplin is, well, Charlie Chaplin. He’s keyed into his role more than anybody else in history, and the Tramp/Prospector shines here, unsurprisingly. Chaplin’s basically perfect, and for all of his IMMENSE faults as a human being, his acting in this film certainly isn’t amongst them. All credit where credit’s due, honestly. But, OK, everybody else? Honestly, pretty good! I’m not accustomed to judging silent performance, ESPECIALLY in a comedy, so the visual performances are almost all fantastic. But if you want a liiiiiiiittle nitpicking...Georgia Hale is a little stiff at times, Mack Swain is a little over-the-top occasionally, and Tom Murray is just...there. These are extremely minor, but compared to Chaplin, they don’t QUITE measure up. To be fair, though, this is basically nitpicking.

Plot and Writing: 9/10

A comedy’s strength is in its writing, which I argued in my little dissection of the comedy “genre” (you can check that our right here, if you want), as well as the performance of that writing. Which is why silent films are...complicated. So, instead, my target has to be the execution of the plot and story. And...yeah, it’s a straightforward plot, understandable story, no real strain here at any turn. It’s a good story, and Charlie Chaplin (of course) does a good job with it. Apparently, he really WAS inspired by the story of the Donner Party (meaning that the choice to film in Truckee MUST have been on purpose), which is why I KNEW that shoe-eating thing seemed familiar. The Donner Party did the exact same thing with their shoes! Y’know, before eating each other, of course. But this was a well-written story, with more complexity than expected. Or possibly necessary, because Larsen really didn’t need to be here for the plot to work. That is a little weird for me, but I also understand why he was included. Again, nitpicking all over the place.

Directing and Cinematography: 10/10

No nitpicking for me here! Charlie Chaplin is a famously good director, and this is a great example of his work. Very typical for the time, sure, and mostly just perfunctory, but it’s still a well-directed film. Cinematography was surprisingly Roland Totheroth, and not Chaplin! Not that Totheroth was a slouch either. Ol’ Rollie (as he was often billed) is one of Charlie Chaplin’s most ardent comrades (ha...communism. That will...that’ll make sense later), and accompanied him as cinematographer and camera operator for over 30 films. And this is another great example of his work!

Production and Art Design: 10/10

If Chaplin wanted to recreate arctic boomtowns and desolate cabins...gotta say, he nailed it. This looks great, and the setting feels quite authentic, all things considered. For 1925, I think Chaplin exceeds expectations here. Now, granted, there are films from this time period that have really hefty production budgets, but this one is still a great looking film regardless of that. Again, credit where credit’s due.

Music and Editing: 9/10

Funny thing; the 1940s reissue of this film had different music added to it, because Chaplin wanted different music on it, and a lot of people who say they like that release say that the music is better. Which is interesting, because I REALLY liked the music in this movie! Using covers of classical music works quite well, I think, and the original tracks are pretty great as well. I mean, just looking at the dancing rolls GIF up there reminds me of the sprightly tune accompanying it. And that music was selected by, big surprise, Charlie Chaplin. He’s not the only person involved, of course, but he was a major part of this choice. And yes, he was ALSO the editor for the film! Geez, dude wore many black bowler hats, huh? Well, that docked point is for the slightly off editing in a few scenes, but it’s really not bad. This is once again me nitpicking.

94%, and it’s worth every digit, and more!

This is one of the great American classic films (ironically made by a British filmmaker), and it’s a movie that should be seen by everybody at least once. Is it my favorite comedy? FUCK NO IT AIN’T. But mostly, that’s because this film is funny...but that’s not where its charm lies. It’s not nearly as funny as many comedies I’ve previously covered, but it has a HELL of a lot of heart to go with it. It’s a worthy film on its own merits, divorced from the normal trappings of comedies. You can literally find the film, THE ENTIRE FILM, on Wikipedia. So check it out!

But for now, let’s move from the Tramp to another dynamo of the Silent Era. And yeah, we have a few more people from this time period to cover. Isn’t that right, Buster?

April 2, 2021: The General (1926), dir. Buster Keaton

#the gold rush #the gold rush 1925 #charlie chaplin #the tramp #the lone prospector #mack swain #tom murray #malcolm waite #georgia hale #henry bergman #comedy april #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365days365movies #365 movies a year

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jeongahn · 4 years

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✨ HEHE HELLO MY SUN! 95hua is my gfx and 17joshua is my gif portfolio blogs - Bea 💓

(Don’t) Creator’s send me a ✨ + your creations tag and I’ll talk about some of your pieces I love! Bea’s creations (gfx) and her gifs and her blog @joshuahong (I still want to tag joshsua, it’s been literal YEARS)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - How do I make this short. Bea. I truly love your work so much, that when I tried to go through your archive from 2015 and onward - all my brain did was “oh that’s a fave. no wait that’s a fave. that one too. OH but THIS ONE-”. I’m not exaggerating. Every single piece. So to keep this condensed, I’m only going to talk about the pieces that gave me the visceral “!!!” because I remember how floored I was at the piece. Just know that EVERY piece you’ve done gives me that reaction. So this ask? This ask is now my own personal hell because I don’t know how to choose 3-5 pieces that I love more than the other. But I will try. This is more of a “walk down memory lane,” - in which I recall how much the piece amazed me at the time it was posted. This might seem long but let me tell you - this is as condensed as I could possibly make it. Like I am pulling my own teeth trying to mention just a FEW of these pieces that I really love. I need a drink. GOD this is obnoxiously long I don’t know what to do.

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

2015

(1) (2) (3)These graphics are so heavily ingrained in my mind that I’m now realizing how much this inspired some of my graphics I did years later. Like??? It set the tone for what I value in a piece of work LOL. And when I look back at my own work now - I can see how much of these “lessons” I incorporated.

For (1) in particular, I adored the bleeding effect on the surrounding gifs! And how each panel bled into one another through those wisps.

In (2) the COLORS just had me squirming like a delighted little sausage. It fit Seventeen’s image at the time so well. It was youthful, colorful, fresh. Everything that Akkinda was at that time. I LOVED the sparkles and the fucking TREE. Ugh that was truly one of the best graphics I saw at the time.

In (3) - the way you oriented the text was amazing. It was a lot of text but the way you spaced it out and added these visual breaks made it so easy to digest. Like one panel is text heavy. Then another panel is image heavy with a bit of text.Then there’s a gif panel with more text but also spaced out with more image. The balance is fucking incredible Bea. And literally - that’s how my own mind is programmed to make gfx now so it’s nuts seeing that it might have been influenced by your own methods I viewed over the years. LORD, I should call you professor?

2016

Very few things I never heal from. This manipulation of Jeonghan and Joshua from the Chocolate MV? Is one of them. The Chocolate MV in general? Is another. But okay I recall how I gasped because of how GOOD this was. It’s still hitting me. Your brain is so sexy Bea. Also, I’m bummed we never got Mint Jeonghan. But like, who cares? Bea edited a mint Jeonghan and that’s all I’ll ever need. I would literally frame this LOL. Like I’m half considering slapping it onto my corkboard just so I can look at it often.

I would literally pick every single piece from 2016 but I think JiHan was my most favorite and I can’t tell if that’s the bias in me that’s making these decisions.

2017

This is the coolest shit I’ve ever seen lmfao. I wish I had something more flourished to say but I remember thinking how fucking genius you were for highlighting the teaser like this. Since it was so scenic. And rather than making a hardcore gfx out of it - you just enhanced the vibe with text, coloring, and a bit of texture. You also did this same concept with Jeonghan and it just...oof it was so perfect.

And then later on, when all the teasers were released - THIS stunning piece of work was done. I was SO impressed by the way you did the gifs with that cross effect. It’s not easy showing 13 pieces of anything. But you did THAT. And ALSO used the images of the teasers, you’re a MAD MAN BEA. A GENIUS. I’m still so shocked by how well done is this.

And you know what this talented fuck did WITH THE ACTUAL MV? You’re not going to fucking believe this. You’re really not. Why am I suddenly so angry. Just look at THIS and you’ll understand full well, why I am SCREAMING. I’ve NEVER seen anything done like this at the time it was posted. Like Bea REALLY set the fucking tone with this gfx. To this day I can’t think of a single gfx that captures an MV THIS WELL. UGH it’s BRILLIANT. If I HAD to pick a favorite - like you threatened to burn my pumpkin patch - I would choose this one. But because I’m not being threatened I’m now making this LONG ASS POST on WHY I LOVE BEA’S WORK SO MUCH-

I recently watched InuYasha in all of it’s entirity because I thought of this gfx a while back lmfao. Jeonghan as Sesshomaru and Joshua as a half demon? Satiates something inside of me. Anyways. The tones used here always get me. The soft beiges and purples at so NICE. I think I mentioned it reminded of buying lavenders out of burlap bags in romantic market places LOL. But the vibe still fits. The movie poster vibe is something you didn’t do often back then so it was cool seeing you try out a different style! The way top right and bottom left are correlated is something that flew right over my head back then. But now? I’m eating this shit up. It’s delicious.

Shout out to the “Story of the Moon” series Bea did with Meanie, in which she insp credited herself. Is that not, the biggest flex? I love all your star crossed lovers concepts. Bea loves to: yearn. OH btw, here’s the actual Story of the Moon. It’s so sweet. Probably not the original but SO pretty either way. I think this might be the original. Re: Bea loves to learn.

I swear I’m done with 2017 but I gotta mention part 2 of Demon!JiHan. I never realized how much I loved this series of gfx. Bea. This is GOOD shit.

2018

This is GREAT. One thing I loved about YMMD concept was how the gradient reflected on the concept of day to night. So I adored how Bea did this! It was a clever way to utilize 13 images since the aspect of day and night happen in 12hr cycles.

Just know anything Bea does of JiHan is most likely going to be some GREAT work because of the way a storyline is involved in it. I remember you talking to me about this concept so seeing it come into fruition was pretty fucking cool. Again. Bea loves to yearn. The colors reminded me of the 2015 piece I adored so much.

She did it again with the flawless approach on Demon!Jihan. It’s like year by year it becomes more and more sexy. I LOVE this. The editing on this is more “today Bea”. It’s got such a nice use of shadow and saturation. I remember those images were so hard for me to edit because of the shadow so I didn’t edit them LOL. But nothing stop’s Bea’s expertise. The red tones really get me. I love how this series went from soft burlap bag of lavender to reddish hues. It feels aggressive and I LOVE that.

This is probably the best birthday graphic that ever exists. Again Bea was so clever with how she displayed a lot of images from Joshua’s ENTIRE career. Along with text. Not just eras. Not just songs. But Joshua as a person as well. Whenever I see this I feel so fond. You can smell the love radiating off of this gfx. Joshua would be SO honored.

2019

This is so pretty. Like it reminds me of salwar kameez lmfao. I remember this fondly. It’s like they’re what is inside of a string light. Not light bulbs. It’s Seventeen’s Vocal Unit.

Shout out to this graphic that is reposted literally everywhere. Bea you unlocked every Carat’s deep want: Tatted!Seventeen. Your talent with manipulations is unreal. The tattoo series and Cyber/ Humanoid series really showcase that. Another shoutout to how Bea inspired that one set of teasers with the pressed flower freckles. I want this in a resin dish. Who on Etsy will do this for me-

(1) (2). The dichotomy of these 2 graphics still get me. In (1) there’s this warm and luxurious vibe. Then in (2) it’s the same luxurious vibe, but creepier than the previous because of the icy feel. It’s so neat. Both are SO beautifully done. I love the shimmer tears on Joshua in (1) and the icy sparkles on Vernon in (2).

2020

I REALLY love this set. The BUTTERFLIES are you KIDDING ME??? I love them. I’m so glad you incorporated them. I love how you subject edit. The way you create glow on the face is so nice. It literally reminds me of using “How Many Carats?!?!!” on the face. Which is SO fitting lmfao. On this work it’s a bit more... “soft glow” but I had to mention it. Joshua with the monarch butterflies makes my heart warm. I dunno if Monarchs are California’s butterflies. But so many places in my town are dedicated to Monarch butterflies so when I think of California, I think of Monarch butterlfies. Anyways I adore the FLUSH on these images. It’s so INNOCENT

I love the entire Cyber series but the way you did everyone’s bionic arm? INCREDIBLE. I can’t even begin to understand HOW you did this Bea. It almost makes me angry that you do this shit for FREE. I get to look at this for free? It feels illegal. I was so floored I missed several details. Like how you made the lighting work with this neon light vibe. That takes a GOOD artistic eye and you clearly have that. Jihoon’s current of energy on his face? U G H it’s so GO OD. I want to stare at it forever. WAIT the BACKGROUND as well. Listen the more I stare this. The more details I realize I miss because I’m so caught up in one detail. It’s just such an incredible series that you execute so flawlessly.

I just really love this. I can’t describe why. It’s just so nice to look at. That panel with Joshua’s glitter tears (p2)? I love it. All of it is so satisfying to look at and I got that entire vibe from the MV in general. So this was an appropriate way to display it!

I have yet to see all of your 2020 gfx so instead I’m gonna rb them and gush lol but really Bea. All your work is so good and if I could write a book on how much I appreciate them - (clearly) I would.

#*kajal gushes over bea's graphic for an actual 3 hours straight*#bea im sorry you had to read any aspect of this #but i really love your work lmfao #i slowly lose my fucking mind the longer i write #this took me around 2hrs lmfao #im sweating this actually stressed me out because i couldnt condense it taht well lmfao #*answ

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angelic-holland · 5 years

Text

Drive North // th x fem!reader

Summary: Dating a famous person can suck sometimes, this is one of those times. You may hate LA but you sure do love your boyfriend.

Part of my Drive North series. Take a listen to the song Drive North as it inspired this fic.

Warnings: Insecurities, smut, nsfw, 18+ please

Word count: 3k

You never wanted this, the “fame” as Tom called it that came along with dating him. You actually really hated it, you hated that you two couldn’t go on normal dates without being swarmed by people, that you couldn’t go on Twitter or Instagram without people saying you looked fat in a dress you wore out with him or that they thought he would be better off with someone like him, someone famous. And you most certainly were not famous. You were studying to become a guidance counselor, nowhere near as glamorous as the life Tom led but it’s what you loved, what you’ve always wanted to do.

You and he were on a little vacation in California, the Far From Home premiere finished, you both wanted to relax a little, so you rented a car and drove as far away from LA as possible, towards the mountains of Northern California. He rented a small lake house which you said was totally unnecessary but he insisted upon it.

You flopped down on the large bed, Tom insisted you rest while he brought your bags in since you drove. You pulled out your phone, absentmindedly opening twitter. You were about to turn to your private account, the one only your friends followed, you had a different name, your profile picture wasn’t even a picture of your face just so people wouldn’t find you by accident. You cleared your notifications from your public account, seeing you and Tom tagged in a few pictures of the two of you from the premiere. You made the mistake of clicking on it, seeing the second picture is a close up of your face. Granted, your period just ended and you were dealing with the aftermath of your pimples and spots.

The caption is what got you, normally you ignored them but your hormones got the best of you.

Can you believe Y/N couldn’t even be bothered to cover up all the spots on her face? She’s on a red carpet not going to the grocery store.

You didn’t ever really wear makeup, your skin was sensitive and foundation made you break out and since you were already breaking out with your period, you had the makeup artist who put together you and Tom just put a very light layer of tinted moisturizer on. You figured you’d deal with the backlash from random people online easier than your face breaking out even worse. It was a lose, lose situation; they’d make fun of you for not wearing enough makeup then, but if you did wear enough makeup to cover your spots, they’d make fun of you later when your face broke out even more.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you heard Tom drop your bags on the ground at the bedroom door, rushing to your side.

“Baby girl, what’s wrong?” He says as you put your phone on the bedside table.

“Nothing, just stupid,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye.

“Nothing’s stupid,” he says, crawling up onto the bed and laying down on his stomach next to you. You groan, your face pressed into your arms so he doesn’t see you cry.

“Just, someone said something stupid.”

“Well if it’s stupid why’re you letting it bother you?”

You knew he meant well by what he said if what they said was dumb if they wouldn’t understand the half of it, if they were strangers on the internet why let it bother you?

“Because, they’re kinda right,” you mumble, sniffling a little.

“What’re they right about love?” He asks, his hand rubbing your back as you take a few deep breaths.

“I should’ve worn more makeup, for the premiere, looked dumb next to everyone else with their perfect skin.”

“What? Nobody’s got perfect skin, you know that, I had some spots they covered up, only difference is I can use that hardcore makeup that could cover up a murder or something, my skin doesn’t react bad like yours. But we’re all different.”

“I know, just wish I didn’t see the tweet.”

“People suck,” he says, as you look up at him. His thumb wipes away a tear from your cheek as you nod.

“Don’t know how you and everyone else does it, fucking hate how people treat you and every other famous person.”

“It gets too much sometimes, just gotta realize that you’re better than people who are leaving strangers hate on the internet.”

“I know, just wish I dealt with it better.”

“Everyone deals with it differently, you’re allowed to deal with it like this, cause I’m always gonna be here for you darling.”

“Thank you Tommy,” you say as he kisses your temple, lips pressed against your skin.

“Always love,” he whispers, arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you snug against his side.

“Wanna watch a movie or something?” He asks after a few moments of comfortable silence, you nod, trying to rub the red from your eyes.

“Come on love, let’s watch your favorite, Ragnarok,” he laughs, getting up and grabbing his laptop from the backpack he left by the door.

“Gonna thank everyone for all the love from the premiere first,” he says, “Wanna set up the movie? I’ll be back.”

You nod, all the love, because you’re sure you got all the love too. His fans would praise his looks, how hot he was, how amazing he was that he did the Brothers trust event, talk about how good of a person he was, all while bullying you. Albeit, not all of his fans were like this, almost none were he assured you time and time again. But of course you were going to fixate on the bad ones, it’s the human condition isn’t it?

You open up his laptop, typing in his password, you’ve never hid passwords from each other, you never had anything to hide anyways. You opened up Netflix and typed in Ragnarok, by far your favorite MCU film, Tom loved to tease you about it, asking why your favorite wasn’t Spiderman. You’ve both debated the topic time and time again and neither of you would budge so he let you have Ragnarok as long as you indulged him by watching Homecoming every few months with him.

You paused the movie at the start, knowing he’d be back shortly, wanting to watch it with him. You grabbed your phone, checking your texts. Your sister had sent you about 100 messages and you rolled your eyes.

Queen, literal queen

Y/N I can’t believe you both looked so god damn GOOD

Legit how are you the hottest couple to exist

She sent you about then pictures and then screenshots of tweets praising your look, and Tom’s, how the two of you matched, how Tom looked so much better on this red carpet than his Homecoming one. The she sent a long message with just a plethora of heart emojis. You smiled a little, the tweets were all really nice, hyping you up like she was.

You: thanks sis, love you so much

You got a notification that Tom posted to his Instagram story and made a post, opening Instagram.

You smiled at the picture he posted, the two of you on the red carpet, he was smiling at you, you rolling your eyes, you’re pretty sure this was taken right after he called you his princess. He put a grayscale filter on the first photo, you swiped to the next which was the same but in color. You scrolled down to the caption and almost cried.

tomholland2013: you’ve made this seemingly dull world full of color, love you princess

You smiled as Tom came back into the room, laying down next to you again. You didn’t realize you were crying until his hands cupped your face, wiping away the tears.

“I hope these are happy tears,” he says, kissing your cheek, your forehead, and pressing his lips to yours. You smile into the kiss, nodding as he rolls on top of you.

“Love you,” Tom whispers against your lips as your hands push up his T-shirt. Your hand rests on his chest, feeling his beating heart as he kisses down your neck.

“Love you too,” you say, voice turning to a whimper as his hands glide up your stomach under your shirt, lightly gripping your breasts.

“Still wanna watch that movie?”

“Maybe later,” you say, tugging his shirt off. He pulls off your shirt as well, helping you sit up to get your bra off.

“So gorgeous,” He says, kissing down your neck, lips leaving soft marks behind. Your hands are lightly gripping his hair when you remember the laptop sitting precariously at the edge of the bed.

“Wait,” you say and his lips leave your body, sitting up.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? We don’t haveta-,”

“No, no just the laptop, don’t want it to break,” you laugh and Tom reaches up in front of you and grabs it, shutting it and putting it on the bedside table.

He continues kissing down your stomach, taking your nipple in his mouth, his fingers pinching your other nipple. You softly whimper his name.

He’s about to continue lower when his phone rings and you both groan.

“Stuff’s gotta stop interrupting us,” he mutters, pulling his phone out to check who’s calling.

“Just Harry,” He says about to click it off.

“No answer him,” you say, sitting up.

“What?” Tom asks, a little pissed off that Harry was interrupting you.

“Oh thank fuck,” you hear Harry groan into the phone.

“What?”

“You uh, did you know you had your Instagram live on?”

“My what on? How was it on?”

“It was streaming for the past like eight minutes.”

“Oh fuck,” Tom says, face paling as he looks at you with wide eyes.

“Is it off now?” You ask, you’re shaking, did the entire fucking world just hear you and Tom about to fuck?

“Is it off Harry?” Tom asks, running his hand through his hair.

“Yeah, turned off when you answered my call.”

“Well thank god I did,” he says, “wait do people save those? Was it just, wait did you watch it what did you see?”

“Nothing just blackness since I’m guessing it was in your pants pocket, just heard, well heard everything.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, Tom laughing against you.

“Not funny Tom, people screen record that shit and keep it forever!”

“Okay, it’s not recording anymore so I’ll, uh, let you two work things out,” Harry says, hanging up.

“How could you even Instagram live anyways? Didn’t you just post a photo or something?”

“Made a story, here we can see it,” Tom says, opening Instagram and clicking on his profile. He played the story for you.

“Hey everyone! wanted to thank you all for the love for Far From Home, Y/N and I are going to take a little vacation for the next week, I’ll probably take a little break from instagram so again thank you all so so much, bye!” Tom waves in the video and fumbles with the camera before the video cuts off.

The live video Harry was talking about wasn’t up anymore but there were swarms of comments on his latest post that you two laughed about. You didn’t see any mean ones, mainly people joking about Tom not understanding technology which was true, he’s had plenty of Instagram mishaps before.

“You okay?” He asks, head resting on your bare shoulder.

“I mean, is that video like, of us, saved? Or do people have it saved or whatever? Cause I was being all whiny.”

“I mean, wait what’s screen recording again? You record what the screen shows? Does that include sound?”

You nod.

“Maybe? But I mean, I would hope they respect the both of us enough to not spread it around.”

“I guess,” you say, eyebrows furrowed.

“Hey, thank god you made me pick up the phone then or else they’d get a sex tape out of us.”

You groan, head resting on top of his own, “I could only imagine what they’d do with that.”

“Oh I don’t want to sweetheart,” he says, arm wrapping around your bare waist.

“What would you rather do?” You ask as his fingers run up and down your side.

“One second,” he says, taking his phone and yours and jogging out of the room. You giggle when he runs back in.

“Just in case,” he says tugging off his shirt.

You roll your eyes as he tugs his jeans down, you do the same with your shorts, wanting to move things along. He climbs back on top of you, kissing you sweetly as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Love you,” He says as his hips meet yours, you buck up at the feeling of his hard cock straining beneath his underwear, rubbing against your core.

“Love you too Tom, just please,” you beg, moving your hips against his.

“Please what princess?”

“Fuck me Tom,” you whimper as his hands play with the edges of your panties.

“No, no fucking tonight, we’re gonna make love tonight princess,” Tom says, smiling against your neck as he pulls your panties down your legs, tossing them to the side.

You whimper at his words as his fingers swipe through your juices, he’s never really said those words “make love” before. You’ve done it plenty, when you both wanted to move a little slower, when you wanted to take your time, worshipping you, telling you how much he loves you and your body.

He kisses down your neck, fingers slightly dipping into your entrance before slipping out again, making you whine.

He makes his way down your body, lifting your legs over his shoulders. You look down at him, sitting between your thighs, hands holding them up, he’s got a wide grin on his face before he kisses along your thighs, slowly making his way to where you wanted him the most.

He gently breathed against your core, making you squirm against him before kissing right above your clit.

“Tom, please,” you whine, hands tugging his hair.

“Got you princess,” he says before kissing your clit, pushing a finger into your dripping hole.

He slowly pumps his finger, crooking it to find your sweet spot almost right away, his tongue lapping at your clit. You whimper against him, hands gripping the sheet.

You moan his name as another finger slides in beside the first.

He continues his motions, fucking you with his fingers while he switches between lapping at your clit and lightly sucking on it.

“Gonna come for me princess?” He asks, looking up at you behind heavily lidded eyes. Despite being incredibly embarrassed just a short time ago, you still were on edge, wanted to come so fucking bad.

His teeth graze your clit and you were a goner, coming with a cry of his name.

He slows his movements as you come, clenching hard around his fingers as he kisses up and down your thighs.

His fingers slip out of you and you almost come again when he sucks them into his mouth, moaning around them as he moves back up your body, dropping your legs to the bed.

Your hands push down his underwear, he helps you pull them all the way off, legs straddling your own.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips, arms wrapping around his neck to play with the short curls there.

“Please what princess?”

“Please, make love to me Tommy,” you say before his lips press against yours, tongue meeting your own. He guides his cock to your hole, slowly sliding in as you kiss, his hand moving to grip your hip.

He pauses once he’s fully inside you, kissing down your neck as you whimper, legs locking behind his own, urging him to move. And he does. But slowly. He takes his time, making every thrust deliberate. He’s leaving marks down your skin, usually he made sure to leave them light enough so that they would fade within a day or two but he was going to town on your neck, determined to make the marks last.

One of his hands traveled between the two of you, thumb gently pressing against your clit, causing you to gasp and arch your back against him.

“Tommy,” you whine, feeling yourself get close.

“Love you,” he groans, his hips stuttering, cock twitching inside you. You knew he was close as well.

“Fuck, love you, love you too,” you stuttered as you came, arms right around his neck as your legs fell to the bed.

“Love you, love you, love you so fucking much, Y/N,” Tom groans as he comes, collapsing on top of you as your hands card through his hair, kissing him as his cock softens inside of you. You stay like that for you don’t know how long, enjoying the feeling of him inside you and the warmth of his body on top of you before he’s pulling out of you, gathering your body in his arms once he’s stood up.

“Come on, let’s go clean up,” he says, carrying you to the bathroom. You wrap your arm around his neck, holding on as he moves. He sets you down on the toilet before turning on the shower.

You pee and try to clean yourself as best as you can before washing your hands, Tom is testing the water and pulling out two fluffy towels from the small closet by the door.

“You know, if you hate LA so much, why do ya stand me?” Tom asks as you both step into the shower.

“Because Tommy, I love you.”

“Mean it?” “Hmmm, I mean it so much I can’t even describe how much I love you,” you say as his chest presses up against your back.

“That’s okay, I know how much ya love me.”

“Love you enough to tolerate all that,” you giggle as his hands rub your shoulders.

“Love you too, Y/N,’ he kisses your neck before helping you wash your hair.

“Think we should lock our phones up for the week though.”

“And I should learn how to use instagram.”

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland one shot #tom holland oneshot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland reader insert #tom holland reader insert smut #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader oneshot

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swinterr · 5 years

Text

Valerie IV

Valerie has been gone for 3 days and her family and Anwar are worrying.

They think that Valerie run away for some reason. But the truth is that Valerie is just chilling on her beach house without a care in the world.

Anwar was woken up by Yolanda, her mom, knocking in his room door continuously.

“Anwar! Anwar!” Yolanda continues to yell behind the door

Anwar groans and use a pillow to cover his ears to avoid his mother’s voice intruding him in his deep slumber.

“Anwar! Valerie is missing! Get the fuck up!”

That’s the time when Anwar start calling everybody.

He called his sisters, then Bella and Gigi starts calling everybody who knows Valerie.

Anwar even called Shawn.

Shawn is sitting on the couch inside his tour bus, strumming his guitar. Beside him is Connor and Brian playing Xbox.

As Shawn changes the position of his fingers his phone rings off.

Incoming call: Hailey Baldwin

Huh? that’s weird, they never really talked after their pr. Why she calling me? Shawn though

“Uh hello? Is this Shawn Mendes?” her soft voice fills the air, but not as soft as Valerie’s.

Shawn holds his guitar on his lap as his other hand holds the phone.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Bella called, Bella Hadid oh and Gigi called. You know them right?” the connection is a little weak so shawn’s having a hard time understanding plus the guys are are basically screaming at each other right now.

“Uh yeah. Wait a second.” Shawn mumbled as he sets his guitar down the couch, he prepares himself to scream at the guys.

He covers the speaker and shout. “Dude! Shut the fuck up!”

“Are you okay?” Hailey laughs as she hears guys complaining in the background.

“Anyways Valerie’s missing. The girls asked me to ask you if you know where she is.”

Shawn can feel the guys looking at him, he felt his world stopped spinning.

Anyway Shawn started calling everyone he knew who has connections with Valerie.

Basically that day was so stressful that even Andrew had to call Valerie’s parents to asked what’s happening.

Meanwhile Valerie had the best three days of her life.

She literally made the best decision of buying the house, although it’s expensive as heck.

Her house has a rooftop, with an helicopter parking in it. All she has to buy now is the actual helicopter. All that she can say is that her house is a dream. A gym, a pool, a library, a game room, a cinema room. Everything, she even have her own bar where she store her alcoholic drinks she stole from her dad.

On the first day she just watched movies on her laptop, ate fruits, went to the gym did some yoga. And on the afternoon she went sunbathing on the rooftop, she drove a boat and went fishing— in which she ate what she caught for dinner.

The second day is a chill day, she went to the gym at the morning and yoga at night. She spent almost her day sitting in the massage chair she brought. That’s all.

The third day— her last day she went jogging on the highway which is still her property, she thought that she the road is a little bit dark and sad. So she thought the next day when she will come back to Bel Air she will order bunch of lamp post, trees— specifically palm trees and other plants also, she will hire people to take care of her house at the same time will plant and will take care of her trees and plants.

Valerie now is packing her things, just her bag. She already did her laundry and decided to leave her clothes there in case if she come backs or something.

Valerie loaded her things on her car and zoomed off.

Before she goes she checked if she locked all the doors and the gates.

The car ride is interesting, she saw some paps on her way to Bel Air. Hoping that can glimpse at her and their family mansion which they kept private.

Its been a week since Valerie returned home from her mini vacation in Malibu.

Valerie and her dad hade some “serious talk” about what’s happening with her these past few days.

Eventually her dad, Virgo, figured out that her daughter and Shawn broke up.

Plus he said that ever since that dinner back in Toronto Valerie has been acting off and mostly sad. Virgo is worried about his angel’s mental health he says he missed the old Valerie, thus he ask Valerie to seek the help of a therapist which Valerie agreed too.

Her dad’s friend, Léon, also her godfather died because of depression. Although her case isn’t that deep. Virgo wanted her to be safe, also for him mental health is more important than physical health.

Few weeks later Shawn is in Oakland. Valerie had literally 4 sessions every week and after every session she does photoshoot and video campaigns for different brands.

Those sessions really helped him in forgetting their shared memories slowly.

That went pretty well. Today Valerie is getting ready for the ribbon cutting in Los Angeles for their hotel.

“You know what Val, I think you should quit studying and become a model.” Kayla, her make up artist slash hairstylist said as she blend Valerie’s blush out.

Her makeup is simple, glowy and natural except for her lips. Her team insisted that she should do a dark redish purple lip.

“Yeah you literally look like a Victoria’s Secret model.” Adrian, her stylists agrees.

Valerie’s looking beautiful as ever.

Adrian is currently zipping up Valerie’s dress while Kayla is touching up Val’s make up.

Valerie is rockin a black strapless beaded gown from Naeem Khan and a black and a black platform sandals from Malone Souliers.

Valerie is basically a model now, so she gotta serve looks, she gotta look stunning in every angle.

They are in Bel Air, in Valerie’s parents house.

“I don’t know I mean I would do it but I love learning.” Valerie shrugs.

“And besides, I’m not confident enough for that.”

“Girls?” a knock on the door interrupt them

They all stop what they’re doing and looked at the door.

“The car is waiting.”

“I’m so glad you guys made it!” Vernon greeted Brian and Connor.

Connor and Brian walked inside the hotel, with the maids giving them juice because Connor is still underage. Connor eyes widen when he saw the interior of the Valentin’s newly opened hotel while Brian just smirked.

“Hi I’m Vernon, I’m Val’s older brother.” Vernon approach the two while carrying baby Laslo in his right toned arm.

“Vernon! I brought my friend here, his name is Connor.” Brian introduced Connor to Vernon.

Vernon and Brian knew each other. They met last year at Valerie’s Birthday.

“Ahhh Connor, Shawn Mendes’ videographer?” Vernon shook Connor’s hands, he knew Connor through Val, she mention that he studies in UCLA just like him but he graduated already.

Laslo squirmed in his dad arms and extending his arm towards Brian. Wanting to be carried by him so Brian carried him, Brian extended his arms and carried Laslo.

Connor and Brian bodies stiffen when he mention Shawn, as a friend of Shawn of course they are embarrassed by his action.

“Where’s the kid?” Connor didn’t knew what to do so he looked at Brian, Brian eyes widen, he didn’t know where even Shawn is.

“Uhhh I don’t really know, he’s working on s project.” Brian awkwardly laugh.

“He better be, I’m gon—” Brian and Connor are mentally thanking Milo for cutting of his dad for saying something.

“Hi! I’m Laslo, I got my tooth of yesterday. The tooth fairy gave my $50.” Laslo proudly shows his missing bottom tooth to Connor.

Connor is about to answer when Viviane walked towards them.

Connor knew Valerie has two sibling. Valerie is hella attractive but he didn’t knew that even her siblings are attractive too. They look like greek gods and goddesses.

“Vernon dad’s looking for you.” Viviane look stunning, she looked like a model. She approached the group and once again Laslo is squirming in Brian’s arms, he wants Viviane to carry him.

“Brian! Nice to see you again.” Viviane smiled and hug Brian.

“Hi I’m Viviane Valentin, Valerie older sister. Nice to meet you.” Viviane hugged Connor.

“Go to the 23rd floor, Valerie’s waiting for you there.”

Viviane and Vernon walked to their parent but Vernon stopped and looked at them and said. “Tell Shawn he better be careful. Valerie is to precious to be cheated on.”

Connor eyes is practically shaking. Valerie and Viviane share the same personality with their Mom, except Valerie is more softer and Vernon and His Dad share the same personality except Vernon is more harsh and tougher like but he look soft.

“I’m literally dying when Val brother asked Shawn.” Chugged his juice down, his throat feels dry after their encounter with the Valentin’s.

The two are finally alone and can finally talk openly.

“I know! My armpits are sweating” Brian fanned his armpits.

“Dude, Valerie’s sibling are attractive! Have you seen her sister, her sister’s hot. Also I never knew Val was this rich!” Connor runs his finger through his hair.

“The first time I met her was when she was staying at her aunt’s house because I thought they don’t have no house but they are renovating their fucking mansion!” Valerie stayed at her aunt Veronica when their mansion is renovated, that’s when she met Shawn, Aunt Veronica’s house is directly to the Mendes’ Household and Brian’s house is just around the block.

“Dude Harvard is fee is around like $44,000 she rich rich!”

While the two are on their way to their designated floor they kept on talking about Val’s family wealth. Brian mostly keeps on talking to be honest because he known Val for years. He told Connor about them having private jets, mansion and other stuff that mostly billionaires can afford.

When Connor and Brian entered Valerie’s room they saw her crying on the bed with her laptop on.

“Valerie I miss youu but why are you crying?” the two lads run up to Valerie’s bed and hug her.

“I just got a modeling gig!” Valerie cried, Valerie has always been the sensitive type. When she’s hurt or happy she always cried. Shawn always calls her cry baby when they were younger until now.

“Really? That’s good but why do you need to cry?” Connor is confused.

Valerie models when it’s summer. She rarely do gigs when uni is starting.

“Yeah you should be proud!” Brian added.

“I know but it’s too much, I don’t think I can do it.”

“What brands are they anyway.”

“Um, Gucci, Burberry, YSL and Maybelline, Adidas, Calvin Klein, Moschino, Stuart Weitzman and also oh my god Chanel contacted me!”

“What!! 9 brands that’s crazy!” Connor started jumping and so does Brian.

Taglist:

@night-girls-world

@alinashawn

@feliciaceciliamariajacobsson

@clarissahunter

heyy i haven’t updated for a while hehehe. you guys still read this? if you do i love you, a lot has happened this past few months hehe

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fluff #angst #shawn mendes angst #fluff #valerie #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb

33 notes · View notes

cate-geo · 5 years

Text

Camp Pining Gays

(This has nothing to do with camp, or Steven Universe, or Camp Pining Hearts...but it does have something to do with gays who are pining so GOOD ENOUGH)

(Romantic Moxiety College AU with background Logince, and Platonic Prinxiety, Royality, Analogical, and Logicality.)

(Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of food, some suggestive teasing. Tell me if there’s any more.)

(Tags: @ab-artist, @vigilantprotector)

Words: 3,634 (oof, I don’t usually write that much)

Virgil ran his fingers lightly down Patton’s cheek, getting the softest smile in return before he started leaning in. Was this really about to happen?

“Mr. Storm!” Virgil snapped back into reality. Damn it.

“Yeah, Prof.”

“Honestly if you’re going to listen to music during my lecture you could at least pretend to hide it. Instead of wearing obvious headphones.”

Virgil rolled his eyes “Why bother with the stress of trying not to get caught? It’s just easier to tell the truth.”

“Please, just try to pay attention.”

Virgil nodded and completely zoned out the professor the second they weren’t giving him any attention. He fucking knew he shouldn’t have gone to class today. No, wait. He had to turn in the essay. Fuck, why couldn’t he just do that electronically?

The rest of the class was so grueling. He wanted so badly to put his headphones back on, but the idea of being called out again made him want to vomit. God he just wanted to go back to bed, but leaving early would just bring attention to him. At least it was his last class of the day.

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The second the Professor started saying “Alright, I think that’s all for today.” Virgil was out the door in a flash. All earlier hopes of studying in the library were crushed by his need to hide under his blankets. He tried to convince himself that he would study in his room, but he was most likely just gonna pass out.

He walked into his apartment to find his roommate. It wasn’t that he hated Roman, but he really wanted to be alone right now. Luckily Roman seemed to notice.

“Hey bud. Tough day?”

“Yep.” Virgil plopped his bag down and kicked off his shoes before climbing into bed.

“Gonna take a nap?”

“Yep.”

“Don’t worry. I was just about to head out. Gotta rehearse with Patton.”

Virgil immediately shot up “What?” He cleared his throat “Who?” Was he fantasizing again?

“Patton. He’s in my drama class this semester. Sweet kid.”

“He works at the library, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Roman stopped, and Virgil dreaded the gleam growing in his eyes “You know him?”

“I’ve seen him around.”

Roman leaned in close, trying to read Virgil, who was trying to be as unreadable as possible. “Do you like him?” “I don’t just get a crush on every cute guy I see like you do.”

“It doesn’t have to be every cute guy. Just one cute guy.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and hid his head under the covers “I’m napping.”

“Alright alright. I’ll do you a favor and try to get his sexual orientation.”

“Whatever.” Virgil sighed in relief when the door finally opened and closed.

Then he shot up.

“Wait no! Don’t fucking do that!” Roman was not subtle at all. God, Virgil was so glad he wasn’t actually gonna be present for that conversation. Although his imagination wasn’t much better. He groaned and shut his eyes tight. Trying to let sleep overtake him.

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Virgil didn’t really remember falling asleep, but he must have since he was waking up now and it was dark outside. He looked around and noticed Roman wasn’t back yet. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. He should probably make dinner.

He pondered whether or not he should make Roman some food too. Maybe he could poison it for the stunt Roman was trying to pull. Before he could decide though, he heard the door open.

“Heeeeey Virgil~”

“Hey Roman. How was rehea-”

Roman had the hugest shit-eating grin on his face, and coming in behind him was Patton.

Yep. Virgil was definitely gonna poison Roman’s food.

Virgil didn’t know if he should yell at Roman or try to make a good impression. Although, it wasn’t as if he was capable of speech at the moment.

“Hi. Sorry to intrude. Roman said he just needed to grab something real quick. Then we’ll head out.”

“Yeah. We were gonna get something to eat. Wanna join us?” Roman was still grinning.

God Virgil wished he had the idea to make dinner 60 seconds earlier. Then he would have an excuse. “I uh...don’t want to interrupt any rehearsing.”

“Oh, it would be good to have a test audience” Roman wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulder, his eyes telling him that he wasn’t getting out of this one, so he should just tag along.

“Yeah. It could really help to have a fresh set of eyes. You should come.”

Patton was asking Virgil to dinner. Ok so...it wasn’t exactly how he imagined it. But he was too lovestruck to stop himself from saying yes.

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Despite the fear in Virgil’s chest, the dinner wasn’t so bad. The skit they were doing was cute. And it definitely helped with payback giving Roman so much constructive criticism.

Although Roman retaliated quickly. “Oh wow. Sorry. Cute guy alert. Gotta get his number. Be back in a jiff.”

Virgil tried to say ‘Don’t you fucking dare leave me’ with his eyes, but Roman was already gone.

“Wow. I could never ask for a random guy’s number.”

“Yeah. That’s Roman. Extra in absolutely everything he does.” Virgil stared at his drink “Uh...so you work at the library, right?”

“Uh-huh. I’ve seen you around.”

Virgil felt his heart beat faster. Patton noticed him. “Yeah well, it’s a good place to study.” God, why was this so awkward?

“Mhm.” Patton must be finding it awkward too “Roman mentioned you two have Disney movie nights on Saturdays. That must be so much fun.”

“Uh...yeah. When he doesn’t have a date. Which is actually pretty often despite the amount of guys he hits on. Do you want to join us this weekend?” shitshitshit. Did that just come out of his mouth? Shit.

“Wait really?”

“Sorry. That sounds creepy. You hardly know me-us...and I’m inviting you to our apartment at night and-”

“No that sounds nice actually. I just don’t want to intrude on you two.”

“It’s no intrusion. It’s mostly just Roman singing along. It’d be nice to mix things up a bit.” Mix things up a bit? Mixing things up a bit made Virgil panic. So did inviting a cute boy to his place. What the fuck did Roman do to him?

Speak of the devil, Roman sat back down with them, slapping down a piece of paper with numbers scrawled on it “Boom. That’s how you do it.”

Virgil looked down at his lap “Uh...is it cool if Patton joins us for Disney night?” He wasn’t looking at him, but he could feel Roman’s eyes get bigger

“Of course. The more the merrier. We can make it a pajama party.”

“That sounds like so much fun!” Patton had the biggest smile.

Virgil nodded, ready to die.

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Virgil wasn’t going to get super dressed up. It was a pajama party after all, not like he could wear a suit or makeup. Well, any more makeup than his usual eye shadow. But....he didn’t want to smell bad or anything.

“Virge that is the fifth time you’ve brushed your teeth. Are you planning on kissing him?”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, well I’m your wingman, whether you like it or not.”

“Well you suck at it. You never did find out his orientation.”

“Oh. He’s pan.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He has a pan pin on his backpack, I thought you saw it, with how much you stare at him.”

“I don’t stare at him!”

“Yeah, ok”

“I just zone out. It’s a thousand-yard stare. It’s not about who I’m looking at. It just happens.”

“So you can fantasize about him.”

“I am going to stab you with your own sword.”

“So this is a really bad time to tell you I have a date with the guy from the restaurant tonight and I’ll be joining you two later, huh?”

Virgil just noticed how gussied up Roman was. “What? You’re gonna leave me alone with him in the apartment.”

“Hey, you’re the one who invited him here.”

“Roman, please. I beg of you. It was so awkward when you left us.”

“You’ll be watching movies. You don’t have to make small talk. And it couldn’t have been that awkward. You literally asked him on a date.”

Virgil groaned but couldn’t say anything else because there was a knock on the door. Roman placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine. Don’t stress out too much. Patton is a sweet little puffball. He’ll understand if you’re a bit anxious.”

Virgil sighed and went into his room as Roman answered the door. Part of him wanted to lock himself in there forever, but he couldn’t just leave Patton all alone. So he grabbed his blanket and some pillows before walking into the living room and freezing.

Footie pajamas.

Cat footie pajamas.

Fuck he’s adorable.

It kinda made Virgil feel dull just wearing a plain black t-shirt, plain black sweatpants, and his usual hoodie. His hoodie wasn’t exactly dull, but he always wore it so the shock factor was gone.

“Hey, Virgil! Roman just told me he’s gotta head out. It’s a bit of a shame. But we’ll have fun together.”

“Uh yeah. Romeo here can’t turn off his charm for one night.”

“It’s a gift and a curse. I’ll be back late, so have fun you two. As much fun as you want.” Roman winked at Virgil and immediately got a pillow to the face.

“Ugh you’re just as bad as your brother.”

Roman clutched his chest in mock hurt before wiggling his fingers goodbye and walking out the door.

Virgil picked up the pillow he tossed and dropped everything in front of the tv. “Go ahead and choose the first movie. You want popcorn?”

“Yes please.”

Virgil stared at the microwave as the popcorn popped. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Sure he was so close to vomiting, but...it could actually be nice.

He poured the popcorn into the biggest bowl he could find and walked back to find Patton had picked Winnie the Pooh. “Heh. Cute.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing.” He placed the bowl in-between them and hit play.

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

It was actually a really nice time. Although Virgil put a ton of attention into not accidentally grazing Patton’s fingers in the popcorn bowl. He wanted to. But he knew if he did he would immediately die, and that might dampen the mood a bit. So Virgil was honestly relieved when the popcorn was gone.

Except his relief was short-lived, because Patton had moved the bowl out of the way and now there was nothing in-between them and they were under the same blanket and worrying about finger grazes was a lot less stressful than worrying about cuddling up to each other.

Besides that, it was nice.

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After a few movies, Virgil noticed Patton’s head bobbing and his eyes drooping. He really was the cutest thing in the world, wasn’t he?

He was trying not to stare, but he probably should have because the next thing he knew, Patton had fallen asleep. On. His. LAP! And Virgil was pretty sure his heart had stopped beating.

What was the normal person response? He didn’t want to wake Patton by moving him. So he tried to play it cool and slowly ran his fingers through his hair. It was so soft. God, why was everything about him so soft?

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

A few hours later he heard the door open.

“Awwwww.”

“Shut it.” Virgil hissed.

Patton rubbed his eyes “Oh hey Roman. You’re back. How was your date?”

“Magical~ How was your…” Virgil glared at him “Night.”

“Pretty chill. I guess I kinda passed out. Sorry for falling asleep on you Virgil.”

“Nah it’s fine.”

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

The three of them were able to watch a movie and get into about a third of another one before Roman and Patton fell asleep.

Virgil felt his eyes getting heavy so he turned off the tv and curled up in the blanket before drifting off.

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Virgil opened his eyes to a face full of hair. He didn’t remember cuddling up to Patton, but he must have.

He smiled and pulled Patton closer, nuzzling his nose into the back of his neck, hearing giggles coming from Patton.

“Morning Virgil.”

“Mmmm. Morning Pat.” He started pressing soft kisses on Patton’s shoulder blade, relishing in how he could see his blush reach the tips of his ears.

And then he woke up for real.

Virgil looked around. Patton wasn’t anywhere near. He wasn’t even on the ground anymore. This made Virgill sit up with a start. Where was he? Was he hurt? Did he get kidnapped? Did he-

The smell of eggs and bacon coming from the kitchen and the sound of two voices chatting calmed him down. He found his phone and saw it was just after 10. He wasn’t usually up this early on the weekends. Unless he stayed up this late.

Virgil stretched and got up, heading towards the kitchen.

“Oh! Good morning Virgil. I’m almost done making breakfast.”

“Isn’t he great Virge? Real husband material if you ask me.” Roman grinned knowing he deserved the punch in the arm.

“You two should take a seat. It’ll be done any second now.”

Roman obliged, but Virgil stayed. Staring at Patton cooking, he imagined wrapping his arms around his waist and leaning his chin on his shoulder.

Patton turned around “Oh kiddo. Did you need something?”

“I can...uh...help.”

“Aw. Thank you. Here. This is yours and this is Roman’s.” Patton handed him two plates before turning back to the stove.

Virgil nodded and brought out the plates to a grinning Roman “What?”

“Just a nice save is all”

“Maybe be snarky after I’m not holding your food.”

“Ok ok ok.” Roman grabbed his plate “Still a nice save.”

Virgil growled and sat down.

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

A few months had passed. Patton and Roman had kept pairing up for scenes, and Roman kept insisting to Virgil it was because they had become friends and had nothing at all to do with the fact that he was the ultimate wingman.

Roman’s date started hanging around more and more. Virgil learned his name was Logan, and he had started to really like his presence.

Virgil liked Roman and he was in love with Patton, but...they were really easily excitable and rambunctious. And when Virgil got overloaded, it was nice to find Logan in a different room just quietly reading a book. It was calming. To hang out with someone without needing to do anything. Allowed to listen to his headphones and just...be.

Logan was also a giant nerd, which comes in real handy with finals just around the corner.

Virgil also couldn’t help but notice how happy he made Roman. He had noticed that Roman’s flirty eyes had turned to more loving with stars in them every time he looked at Logan. It was really nice to see his friend in love and happy. He also finally had some retaliation to every single time Roman teased him about his crush on Patton. Although it didn’t hit as hard because Roman wasn’t keeping any of his feelings a secret.

Speaking of which, Virgil was still too nervous to ask Patton out. Still would fantasize about him. And still felt this weird feeling in his stomach whenever they hung out. Besides all that, the two of them had actually become close friends. Patton would always greet him with a hug, and Virgil wasn’t always the hugging type, but Patton was soft and warm and felt safe and always smells like vanilla, so he was the one exception.

Many nights the two of them had stayed up late talking. Virgil started to trust him, and tell him about all of his anxieties. Except for the ones that involved his crush of course. And the night that Patton told him that he usually bottles up his feelings and tries so hard to be happy even when he isn’t, Virgil almost felt honored with how much Patton trusted him back. It was also really nice to pull Patton into his lap and let him cry in his chest.Virgil hated himself for liking this when Pattion was so upset. But they were so close...it was nice. Despite the topic.

Then one night, Patton told Virgil that he had a crush on somebody and Virgil felt his heart crack into two pieces.

He knew he should have made a move sooner.

“That’s great Pat.”

“Yeah. I was wondering if you had any advice on how to ask them out.”

“Uh...Roman’s usually better at the whole love advice thing. You should ask him.”

“I did, but I’m pretty sure this person wouldn’t want the big romantic extravaganza Roman suggested. I also don’t have the money to rent a hot air balloon.” Vigil snorted “I wanna keep it simple. Like how would you want to be asked out?”

There was no way Patton could have known, but that hurt just as much as finding out about his crush. Having to tell Patton all the fantasies Virgil has had about him, without being able to make them come true. “Uh...I guess I just want to be asked to hang out. Well, not just hang out. Knowing my anxieties, I wouldn’t know if it was a romantic or a platonic thing. I would want you...or well...one...to actually say the words “as a romantic date”. No room for confusion, you know?”

“Got it. Just straight to the point. Thanks, Virgil!”

“Yeah, no problem.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------There was no way Virgil could sleep that night. He looked at Patton laying on his chest and despite how much it stung that he liked somebody else, this wasn’t so bad. Patton was his best friend. He was a great best friend. Crushes come and go. Maybe one day he would stop fantasizing about kissing him and he would be perfectly happy with the relationship they had.

Maybe.

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“Hey Virge, you haven’t talked all day. Something bugging you?” Roman leaned against Virgil and got shoved off.

“I’m fine.”

“Come on, you can tell me.”

“You already know.”

“What do I already know?”

“About Patton’s…” Nope, he was not about to cry “About Patton’s crush”

Roman gasped “He told you?” Why did he sound so excited?

“Yeah. He told me about his crush and wanted more chill advice than what you gave him and I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Roman blinked “What?”

“Don’t play dumb. It’s fine. Patton’s a good friend. I’ll get over him. Eventually.”

Roman sighed deeply and muttered something under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. Nothing. Don’t worry. I promise I’ll fix this.”

“No. Don’t interfere. He has his own feelings and emotions and is his own person. He likes someone else. It’s not his fault I’m too much of a coward to ask him out.”

“Virge-”

“It’s fine. I have class.”

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Virgil came back from class to see Patton in his apartment talking with Roman. This wasn’t all that surprising, but it still stung. And the fact Patton didn’t hug him was worrisome.

“Ah. You’re home.” Roman crossed his arms “Go on”

“What are you talking about?”

“Heh. I think he means me kiddo…”

“Huh”

“Well...I didn’t really want to put you on the spot with Roman’s suggestion, and when I asked Logan for advice, he told me I should get some information from the source. So I wanted to gather information and then ask you when the time was right. But your advice was literally to be direct, and this was completely not that. But I panicked and didn’t know how you felt. Roman was just telling me how I should have just confessed then and there and that I was making your anxiety worse…and I’m really sorry.”

“What?”

“Oh...uh...my crush is...you Virgil.”

Dreaming. He was dreaming. Daydreaming? Fantasizing? In a coma?

“Ah. Fucking finally!” Roman shouted “Do you know how stressful it’s been keeping both of your secrets for this long?”

Holy shit. This was reality.

“You like me?”

“Yeah.”

“Months of just watching you two together but not together.” Roman collapsed on the couch “It was probably more emotionally draining for me than for the two of you combined.”

“I like you too.”

“Eeee” Patton pounced onto Virgil and hugged him tightly.

Virgil staggered a bit but was able to keep them both up, holding Patton tight.

“Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss”

“Roman, can you shut the fuck up for 5 seconds of your life?”

“Come on you know you want to.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and landed them on Patton “Uh...is it...o...k?”

“Mhm. Very much so.”

Virgil ran his fingers lightly down Patton’s cheek, getting the softest smile in return before he started leaning in. Was this really about to happen?

Holy shit. This time it really did happen.

“Aw. You guys are adorable.”

Virgil flipped Roman off “I’m not adorable”

“Yeah ok, buddy” Roman suddenly gasped making Virgil jump “We should have a double date!”

Patton squealed “YES!” He dragged Virgil over to the couch and he and Roman started prattling on about where they would go.

Usually, Virgil would leave when the two got this excited, but he was kind of excited too. In his own chill and calmer way. Besides, he had a boyfriend now. And it was really nice to finally wrap an arm around his shoulder and kiss him on the cheek while he was talking instead of just fantasizing about it.

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Later that night, Patton was sleeping on Virgil’s chest, and Virgil was too excited to sleep. He leaned down and kissed the top of Patton’s head and heard a giggle.

“You aren’t sleeping.”

“I can’t. Too happy.”

Virgil hid his blush, despite it being dark.

“Yeah...me too.”

#moxiety #logince #platonic royality #platonic prinxiety #platonic analogical #platonic logicality #Virgil sanders #Patton sanders #Roman Sanders #Logan Sanders #college au #sanders sides

79 notes · View notes

lurafita · 5 years

Text

Rich!Tony/Artist!Peter, part 2

Go here for Part 1

Okay. Gotta be honest, this part isn’t that much more interesting than the first part was. But I did some actual research for this one and most of the artworks described in the text were inspired (or unashamedly stolen) from this site: https://theartofeducation.edu/2017/10/26/11-fascinating-artists-inspired-science/

So, let’s get this done!

The Art of Science and the Science of Art

While self-satisfaction might not be very virtuous, Pepper couldn't help the proud smirk that spread over her face, as she watched Tony all but fawn over the different artworks.

“Are you seeing this, Pep? This is a glass model of a magnified virus cell. They installed tiny light sources in specific places and angles to show how and where the cell interacts with the human body. And then there is a whole other set of lights and mirrors that indicates which parts are targeted and gradually destroyed by an antiviral drug. Actually, the way the mirrors are positioned here... yep. If you go around the pedestal and look at it from the different angles, it's like a little movie. First you see the lights indicating the parasitic effect of the virus on the body, then the way the drugs counteract the effects, and once you reach full circle; Ah, see here? Now the lights and the mirrors and the shadows create the effect that the virus evaporated. Damn, that's clever.”

Tony walked around the pedestal once more, trying to make out the positions and calculate the angles of all the lights and mirrors used.

Pepper's previous gleeful smirk softened, as she watched her boss move on to the next exhibit, a gorgeous piece created with metals and specially coated glass. The reflected images and light created 'Sun Drawings', that moved and changed in response to sunlight and the passage of time.

Having been Tony Stark's personal assistant for almost 8 years now, Pepper had learned much about the inner machinations of the man. And at his very center, Tony Stark was an engineer. A mechanic. He could talk theoretical physics with the best of them, but he preferred practical results. Tony's work had a purpose, a direct impact.

Which was one of the reasons why he wasn't normally swayed by art.

“Okay, this here? Classic movie effects. Chemical reactions used to visualize the images of a nuclear explosion, but it all happens under a microscope.”

While the billionaire could certainly appreciate beautiful art, something that was nothing more than 'nice to look at' held no value to him. It was the same reason why he had tons of one night stands, and hardly any actual relationships in his life. He was at first attracted to a person's physical beauty, which usually led to sex. But when the sexual need had been sated, mere physical attraction wasn't enough to keep him interested in the person he had bedded the night before.

“Now this, this is art. Applied physics at its finest. Do you see how the magnets interact with and against each others polarity? This is a perfect demonstration of the symbolism behind the theory of gravitational forces.”

It was why Pepper had jumped on the chance to get her hands on the tickets to Peter Parker's first ever art exhibition. He had been steadily making a name for himself over the last two years, and the redhead had seen some of his early works while she was on vacation in Europe. The young man had been set up in a corner of a street market in Marseilles, and with the help of various visual and practical effects, had explained the complex mechanics behind aerodynamic principles, to his wide eyed and utterly fascinated audience.

“A model of Nikola Tesla's early design for a solar collector made by modern computer code. See this section here? That's programming code for data extraction. In this context, it translates to Tesla's attempt to convert the energy of solar rays into electrical power. It serves as a parallel between combining old and new resources. See? This is the kind of art one can actually talk about. Not a painting of a stupid fruit bowl.”

Whereas Tony used his genius and understanding of different areas of science to create and improve, Parker used his to teach and inspire. Parker's art was something that Tony could not only relate to, but also admire, because it had purpose beyond it's beauty.

The hour that Tony had initially given himself to suffer through the showcase had long since passed, as the billionaire found himself unable to curb any of his enthusiasm, as he grew ever more fascinated with every new piece of art. Other people milling about the rooms 'oohed' and 'aahed' as they inspected the different works of the artist, sipping on their glasses of complementary champagne. But Tony doubted they could truly grasp the idea; the genius behind it all.

He was going to buy it all. The whole exhibit. Everything. He wanted those pieces in his company, in his home, in his workshop. He wanted to have the computer coded Tesla piece in his office, as a symbol of Stark Industries work on renewable energy. He wanted to gift the glass model of the virus cell to Bruce, to celebrate the biochemist's latest break through in the field.

He wanted both the magnetic force field work and the microscopic chemical reactions in his workshop, as a source of constant inspiration. His fingers itched with the want to create, the need to pour his skills into his work.

He wanted... He wanted to meet the artist.

When they had made their way almost full circle around the exhibit, they stopped at what appeared to be the last of the show cases. This one was different from the rest. For one, it was made out of Play Dough, though that was a fact Tony only realized by reading the description. How the hell this Parker guy had managed to form a completely genuine looking circuit board out of such an inferior material as children's clay, he could only guess.

He wanted to talk to the artist.

Another thing that struck Tony was that this circuit board looked somehow familiar.

He leaned in closer.

“This one section here looks like a rather awkward welding job. The connections between the wires seem a bit clumped. I would put it down to the use of Play Dough, but the other details on the board are so clean... You know, this looks almost like-”

“-the circuit board you built when you were five years old.”

Both surprised by the new voice, Pepper and Tony quickly turned around. Just a step behind them stood a young man, dressed in a casual but nice enough suit, with deep brown eyes, fluffy looking chestnut hair and a shy smile. Pepper recognized the man she had seen in France right away, and held out her hand to him.

“Mr. Parker. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Virginia Potts. But please, feel free to call me Pepper. Everyone does.”

The artist took her hand with a pleasant smile.

“In this case, I insist on Peter. And the pleasure is mine, Pepper.”

Tony could hardly wait for the handshake to end, to insert himself into the introduction.

“So you are the surprisingly gorgeous face behind all these beauties. I'm-”

“Tony Stark. I know. I'm a big fan of your work, Mr. Stark.” Parker smiled brightly (and blushing heavily) at him and eagerly reached for his hand. Then he shyly nodded to the pedestal display. “Your earliest work included.”

He wanted...

“Just Tony will do. One question, though. Why Play Dough? I may not have been very skilled with the welding equipment back then, but I do remember using the actual parts needed.”

Peter turned to his work, a helpless sort of smile on his lips, as he explained.

“When I was in my last year of highschool, and it was time to make a decision regarding college, I felt helplessly defeated. Was I supposed to attend one that focused on all the things that fascinated me about science, or one that focused on all the things I loved about art? I didn't know if I would ever be able to meet the expectations others had placed upon me, and the ones I had placed upon myself. I became wary and anxious about every choice I made. Constantly questioning myself if it was worth it to try to combine the things I loved, or if I wouldn't be able to hold on to both at the same time. Science versus art. Wanting to pursue such opposite things seemed ridiculous. But then my teacher gave us the task of writing a paper about a person that had greatly influenced our society and progress. I chose to write about you. And during my research, I found an old newspaper article, front page, about the young Stark prodigy, who was already showing the whole world how smart he was. The ordinary 5 year old makes crayon drawings and forms simple shapes out of Plasticine. A few can already read some of their children's books, but many are still more focused on the pictures in them. But the 5 year old you broke out of the limitations perceived for kids, and defied expectations. And I thought to myself ‘Hey, if Tony Stark can build a circuit board at such a young age, then maybe I can find a way that doesn’t mean I have to give up on one of the things I love.’ So, I guess I used the clay to symbolize what was expected, and your final design to show how you rose above.”

That shy little smile again. He wanted...

“In fact, you have done nothing but risen, Mr.- Tony. You have been a great inspiration for me, over the years. Quite possibly even a bit of a muse, if you will.”

Tony was a bit stumped, honestly. He had never been lost for words before. Thankfully he caught himself quickly.

He wanted...

“So, philanthropist, billionaire, genius, muse.” (Had he just replaced his usual playboy title with ‘muse’?) “I like that.” (He did.)

Peter.

“As your muse, I get dibs, right?”

A confused little head tilt.

Cute.

“Dibs?”

On you.

“On the art pieces.” Tony elaborated with a sweeping gesture of his arm. “They are up for sale, right?

“Oh, yes. It’s uhm... we will hold an auction in a bit, after I have officially introduced myself to everyone here and said a few words.” Peter looked distinctly uncomfortable with that bit.

Tony was just opening his mouth to say something else, when suddenly Pepper inserted herself back into the conversation. (He had admittedly forgotten that she was there.)

“Peter, I think the woman over there is trying to get your attention.”

They turned to see a middle aged woman in an elegant dress, subtly gesturing to him. Peter grinned a bit ruefully as he turned back to his two companions.

“That’s my aunt, and also kind of my manager. I guess it’s time for my big entrance.”

He offered his hand once more first to Pepper, then to Tony.

“Pepper, Tony, again, it was a pleasure meeting you. Since it’s an auction, I can’t exactly grant you dibs, as much as I would like to.” He grinned at Tony. “But about 75% of all our revenues tonight will be donated to The Future Hope Foundation, which is a research center focused on developing cures for different diseases, speacially in children. I will be talking a bit more about that one in my speech, provided my severely repressed stage fright doesn’t hit me in a few minutes. So just know that whatever you decide bidding on, it will be worth it.”

Tony wanted to keep holding on to that hand. A hand that was just as calloused as his own, but still somehow softer and more delicate.

“I’m sure it will be.”

You will be worth it.

Just as Peter turned to leave, he cast one last look at the Play Dough model.

“Take a look at the note beside the general description before things start going, would you?”

Then he and his aunt vanished out of the room, to prepare for Peter’s introduction.

Curious now, Tony and Pepper turned back around to the pedestal and found what Peter had been talking about.

‘Of all my works, this one is my favourite, not only because of what it represents to me, personally, but also because of the person who inspired it. Unlike many of the other pieces, that are named after that which they represent, for this one, no other title than

Indomitable

could have ever come to mind. This is the only piece in the show case that will not be part of the auction. As this one already belongs to Anthony Edward Stark.’

“Pep.”

“Yes, Tony.”

“If I win every single auction bid, which I will, I would be entitled to a date with the artist, right?”

“You are probably still going to have to ask him the old fashioned way.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you all for coming tonight. Without further ado, it’s my sincere pleasure to introduce you to the man whose art work has brought you all here.”

Tony smiled. “I can do that.”

“I proudly present to you, Peter Parker!”

_________________________________________________________

The End.

Thanks to everyone for reading and liking the story! I hope you all enjoyed it, even though the story ends before Tony and Peter’s relationship really begins.

Thanks to the original prompt giver as well, due to the research I did for this story, I was able to see quite a few amazing art works.

Tagging: @unicornpower5301 -->why isn’t this stupid tag working?

#starker #fanfic #au #rich!Tony #artist!Peter #prompt #ask #no powers au #peter parker #tony stark #op lurafita

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