#when they were all taking pictures and neil takes some photo and is like 'this looks like it could be the sleeve for a depeche mode album

[most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer]

Good Omens: Lockdown, Aziraphale’s SAD-ASS desk, and how they get to 'Our bookshop' in S2

Welcome to part 2 of me reading reeaally far into the Good Omens: Lockdown video! (part 1 from Crowley's POV here) This post assumes the item choices in the Lockdown visuals are intentional. What follows is going to be my headcanon regardless, but if you're into the Word of God, Lockdown is canon 'If you want it to be.' and I want it to be, sooo checkmate! >;D

Also this is something of a long boi (~13 minute read without following the links >.>), so if you're into unhinged analysis of details and literary references that indicate Aziraphale is in his longing era and want to learn more about author and fave-of-Gaiman, G.K. Chesterton, either get comfy or mark this to read later when you have time!

C: What? A: *somehow surprised even though HE CALLED* A-ah, hello. It's me! C: I know it's you, Aziraphale. A: *regaining composure* Yes, well, just calling to see how you were doing in lockdown.

The video starts with shots of Aziraphale and Crowley's da Vinci sketches (and some sushi remnants)... Babygirl is flipping through the time-goes-too-fast-for-me version of a facebook album, thinking about his crush. vERY chill of him. (also the paper looks new and he's eating on top of them, suggesting these are prints and he has multiple copies of them... sooo normal)

If we look closer at the still of Crowley's portrait, we can see part of the spine of a book that reads Kei- Chesterto-. This is, of course, author Gilbert Keith Chesterton, to whom Neil and Terry (and Crowley) dedicated Good Omens:

The authors would like to join the demon Crowley in dedicating this book to the memory of G. K. Chesterton A man who knew what was going on.

In this post by @azfellandco about Chesterton, you can see a photo of the dedication page and also read the book excerpt where Crowley describes Chesterton as 'the only poet in the twentieth century to even come close to the Truth'.

C: I'm bored. I'm so very very bored - transcendentally bored. There's nothing to do here!

As Crowley is explaining his nap contingency plan, we get a shot of Aziraphale picking up his mug of hot chocolate, then the image below of the 2/3rds gone bottle of Courvoisier cognac (i mean maybe he is baking with it let's not jump to conclusions), and then the stack of books beside a framed woodcut print of witches dancing with devils...

...that I used reverse image search to trace back to page 17 of a book from 1720 called The history of witches and wizards: giving a true account of all their tryals in England, Scotland, Swedeland, France, and New England; with their confession and condemnation.

Interestingly, the text above and below the picture reads:

At their Meeting they have usually Wine, or good Beer, Cakes, Meat, or the like; they Eat and Drink really: When they meet in their Bodies, Dance also, and have Musick...

Beside the framed print of Aziraphale's idea of a really great night out is a stack of books that includes (going from top to bottom):

Homer's The Iliad, Book 2

Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton

Forbidden Rites: A Necromancer's Manual of the Fifteenth Century by Richard Kieckhefer

a book by Hilaire Belloc with no visible title

The Club of Queer Trades by G.K. Chesterton

The Iliad (according to sparknotes) has the following major themes:

....Interesting, ok. Book 2 in particular starts with a god (Zeus) messing with someone (Agamemnon) via a dream that says he will be successful in taking Troy if he launches a full assault, balls to the (city) wall. Agamemnon, who is supposed to be leading the Achaean army to conquer Troy, believes the dream but then in a weird twist decides to test his army and be like 'jk actually I'm giving up and going home' and then is mad when the soldiers are like 'sick, to the boats!' Then Odysseus, who sparknotes tells me is the most eloquent of the Achaeans, gives an impressive speech to inspire the troops and reminds them that they vowed 'that they would not abandon their struggle until the city fell.' ...No way that could worsen Aziraphale's internal conflict about being a bad Angel who thwarted the Great Plan. >.>; Orthodoxy we'll get to in a second.

Then there's Forbidden Rites which is a medieval necromancy guide translated from Latin with added commentary - Aziraphale is perhaps studying occult topics in an attempt to understand Crowley better? And then there's the Hilaire Belloc book on top of the second Chesterton book, a collection of related stories/episodes?, The Club of Queer Trades. The book's Wikipedia page says:

Each story in the collection is centered on a person who is making his living by some novel and extraordinary means. To gain admittance [to the Club of Queer Trades] one must have invented a unique means of earning a living and the subsequent trade being the main source of income.

Aziraphale and Crowley have rather novel/extraordinary jobs and they're both peculiar-queer and gay-queer. Neat. The narrator in the book is named Charlie "Cherub" Swinburne - also neat. >.> He goes on an adventure with his friend, a retired judge and president of the Club of Queer Trades, Basil Grant, (who Oct 2021 GoodReads reviewer Cecily said is "described as mad, mystical, and a poet, with almost no friends, but who “would talk to any one anywhere”) and Basil's younger brother, a private detective named Inspector Constable Rupert Grant. The last line of the book is:

Thus our epic ended where it had begun, like a true cycle. (something something "It starts, as it will end, with a garden.")

Anyway, the Belloc book and The Club of Queer Trades are placed back to back in such a way that they almost look like they could be one book with two different aesthetics, or... two halves of a pantomime beast?! (stay with me I needed a segue)

Belloc and Chesterton have what is essentially a ship name:

It was coined by George Bernard Shaw (if you are like me and didn't know why you've heard of him: he wrote, among other things, Pygmalion, which was adapted into My Fair Lady). Shaw apparently liked to gossip about Belloc and Chesterton with H.G. Wells (again if you're uncultured like me: he wrote, among other science fiction-y things, The War of the Worlds).

In the Feb 15, 1908 issue of The New Age newspaper, Shaw said:

He continued:

"Chesterton and Belloc are so unlike that they get frightfully into one another’s way. ... They are unlike in everything except the specific literary genius and delight in play-acting that is common to them, and that threw them into one another’s arms.”

Shaw says Belloc is 'a bit of a rowdy', and 'cannot bear isolation'. Hmm. Then he says Chesterton is 'friendly, easy-going, unaffected, gentle, magnanimous, and genuinely democratic'. HMM.

“They share one failing—almost the only specific trait they have in common except their literary talent. That failing is, I grieve to say, addiction to the pleasures of the table.”

Ok ok I think we can see where this is going.

(^ from Staged S3E6)

Now, someone did ask Neil Gaiman about this similarity, and he said the Lockdown video was filmed by Rob Wilkins in Terry Pratchett's library, and that he suspects 'Belloc is there because he was on Terry's shelves beside Chesterton.' And it MAY VERY WELL BE that NONE (0) of the book titles are meant in any way other than 'these are books from Sir Pratchett's library that looked nice on camera and ofc we wanted some Chesterton refs and maybe some demon-y stuff for Crowley' but that is WAY less fun so I am choosing to take them as intentional: these are books Aziraphale is actually reading (along with the sushi and many cakes he is actually eating). Let's put ourselves in Aziraphale's shoes and try to imagine how it would be to read this stuff during lockdown while you pine for a demon with slinky hips after you got in big trouble at work for Armageddoff (and work happens to have defined your worldview and general purpose in life).

C: welll... ngk then people might follow my bad example and get ill. Or even die—

As Crowley acknowledges that he ought to be out making peoples' lives worse, we see Orthodoxy by Chesterton open on the desk.

Orthodoxy is described as a ‘spiritual autobiography’ and is considered a classic of Christian apologetics, i.e. the religious discipline of defending religious doctrines (in this case, Catholic) through systematic argumentation and discourse. Wikipedia also says Chesterton's The Everlasting Man contributed to C.S. Lewis' conversion to Christianity, so overall it sounds like he must've been fairly convincing. (and so maybe reading it also poked at that work-related-but-religious-trauma-adjacent stuff Aziraphale has going on?)

You can read Orthodoxy (and probably any of the books I mention bc theyre all old) on project gutenberg but I will include this part of what is shown on the righthand page bc it just reminds me (and so probably Azirapalala as well) of a certain angel squeaking happily at a nebula:

"I felt economical about the stars as if they were sapphires (they are called so in Milton's Eden): I hoarded the hills. For the universe is a single jewel, and while it is a natural cant to talk of a jewel as peerless and priceless, of this jewel it is literally true. This cosmos is indeed without peer and without price: for there cannot be another one."

Ok great, so Aziraphale is diving into the works of one of Crowley's favorite authors bc he misses him, that's cute. What else? Oh he already wrote him a letter right before calling - THE WICK ON THE WAX STICK FOR THE SEAL IS STILL SMOKING. sO CASUAL asdashgfjds

something something 'either call on the phone and talk, or appear mysteriously; don't do both'

When Aziraphale gets to 'I've never had so few customers, not in two hundred years!' We get a close up of this glass of cognac with droplets still on the side — I take back what I said about baking, Aziraphale is drinking it~

He's not drinking a wine, eg Châteauneuf-du-pape, which would be ~14% alcohol by volume (ABV), or a sherry (15-20% ABV); he is drinking Courvoisier cognac, a hard liquor (40% ABV). Crowley's Talisker whisky is 48.5% while we are on the topic. This is stronger than what Aziraphale usually drinks which means... he could be a bit tipsy.

As Aziraphale starts talking about the would-be cash-box burglary, we get this wide shot of the desk:

In the top left hand corner, we see two stacks of books, most (all?) of which appear to be Chesterton when I zoom in. Some of them have Chesterton's name visible on them, others have the publisher name 'Darwen Finlayson' on them, which according to my googling is a house that published several of Chesterton's works. If Chesterton was truly 'a man who knew what was going on', then perhaps this is Aziraphale seeking not just to feel closer to Crowley, but also to make sense of the warring ideas in his mind. Interestingly, Chesterton has also been described as 'The Eccentric Prince of Paradox'.

C: *clearly amused* Did you smite them with your wroth?

The screen then shows two occult-y books and a flickering candle (lower left image). Then Aziraphale explains about his cake~, and as Crowley cuts him off because he's about to nervously ask to come over bc he is so so lonely & down bad for a certain angelic bookworm, we see a map of Oxfordshire on top of Pilgrim's Progress (lower right image).

The two books beside the candle are Satanism and Witchcraft (presumably the 1862 book by Jules Michelet that comes up when I search the title), and another called Magic: An Occult Primer.

Satanism and Witchcraft is described on Wikipedia as 'notable for being one of the first sympathetic histories of witchcraft' and says 'Michelet was one of the first few people to attempt to show the sociological explanation of the Witch Trials.’ Sympathy for people who like to eat/drink/dance with demons, if you will?

Magic: An Occult Primer is a 1972 book by David Conway, a Welsh (CACHU HWCH!) magus and is described as 'a seminal work that brought magical training to the every-magician'. It also includes an appendix called The Occult Who's Who, which is somewhat reminiscent of Hastur's Furfur's book about angels. In Chapter 11: A Word About Demons, it says in regard to summoning them:

"Assuming that the form has turned up in the right place, it will soon begin to act and talk in a very friendly manner; do not forget, however, that its winning ways conceal a sinister intention-- namely, to get the adept out of the circle, and into its clutches.”

...okay?? Aziraphale's desk has a flickering candle on it throughout the video, and we get a close up of the flame when Crowley offers to slither over:

and just like that, Aziraphale has summoned a demon~~

Naturally, he freaks out:

A: *panicking*Oh I— I— I— I— I'm afraid that would be Breaking All The Rules! *nervous breathing* Out of the question! I'll see you… when this is over.

But why? Isn't this what he wanted? Let's go back to the Pilgrim's Progress shot from right before the successful demon summoning and zoom in:

In a similar vein to Orthodoxy, Pilgrim's Progress, by John Bunyan, is an allegorical Puritan conversion narrative. Christian is the main character / stand in for anyone who wants to be in the allegory and Hopeful is well, hopeful, from what I gather. A slightly larger continuous excerpt is here for the curious, but here are some bits I thought were especially interesting in the part of the book shown above:

Christian: Why, what was it that brought your sins to mind again? Hopeful: Many things; as, If I did but meet a good man in the streets; or, If I have heard any read in the Bible; or, If mine head did begin to ache; or, If I were told that some of my neighbors were sick; or, If I heard the bell toll for some that were dead; or, If I thought of dying myself; or, If I heard that sudden death happened to others; But especially when I thought of myself that I must quickly come to judgment.

Perhaps the pandemic is bringing Aziraphale's "sins" to mind again, on top of the whole choosing faces thing to avoid 'quickly coming to judgment'. And then:

Hopeful: I thought I must endeavor to mend my life; for else, thought I, I am sure to be lost forever. Christian: And did you endeavor to mend? Hopeful: Yes, and fled from not only my sins, but sinful company too, and betook me to religious duties, as praying, reading, weeping for sin, speaking truth to my neighbors, etc.

UM??? While I can't say about the praying or weeping for sin, he has definitely been reading and the whole 'giving a good talking to' the burglars could be 'speaking truth to [the] neighbors'...?

Anyway to recap:

Aziraphale has been poring over books about dark magic and demons as well as a ton of books by an author that Crowley loves and who formed a partnership w a very different person in a sort of yin-yang, pantomime beast situation

He has been looking at pictures that remind him of their fun times w Leo in Florence and eating sushi and cake cake cake (and forgiving sinners) and drinking hot chocolate and cognac trying to fill a void but now he's tipsy so he wrote Crowley a letter, stamped it with a wax seal and then thought 'I should call her' BUT

His recent brush with attempted death penalties, the death toll of the pandemic, and some of the religious books he was reading have also filled him with guilt/fear over disobeying Heaven, who he knows could still be watching him and Crowley, so he feels much more conflicted than usual AND

He probably has some inkling that he wants to go ape shit on that ox rib if it comes over to hang out (lol editing to add bc i remembered ox rib discourse: ape shit in an emotional way! whether you hc them as ace or not I just think he really likes him and I’m using ox ribs as a stand in for general forbidden joy/love, not specifically sexy stuff)

So he has to say no.

Anything else might cause him to spontaneously discorporate into a plume of pining and cognitively dissonant gay smoke, which may be all well and good if you only think there's a God, but if you KNOW it and the angels are absolutely recording you and Heaven just tried to kill you and your wife colleague, it's... kind of a big deal.

C: Right. gnnehh. I'm setting the alarm clock for July. Good night, angel. *dial tone*

We don't get to hear Aziraphale's response, but besties you and I both know he is not feeling tickety-boo. He spent like a month putting off calling Crowley (UK lockdowns started end of March, the call is at the beginning of May), finally got drunk and said what the Hell, it'll just be a fun flirty chat in between his temptations, and then it turned out Crowley was depressed and not going anywhere and Aziraphale made him even sadder. And then it got worse because it wasn't all over in July, or in October, even.

I think Aziraphale ends up with a lot of time and brain space in which to think about how Orthodoxy and Pilgrim's Progress were only written to guide *mortals* and how it really wouldn't be so bad if he spent more time with Crowley, would it? Heaven hasn't reached out in actual years again, things feel safer. Crowley is essentially Good and spending time with him would be sort of ministering to the downtrodden and afflicted, and Aziraphale does miss reporting his good deeds (lol you know, whatever rationalizations you need to get you there).

More than anything, he thinks about how hollow everything feels without Crowley; how no mouthful of food or drink tastes as satisfying in his absence because it wasn't ever just about the 'gross matter'...

So when lockdowns end, Aziraphale begins to summon his demon again, but this time with much less inner struggling. It all comes so naturally, when you let it. By the beginning of Season 2 in 2023, they seem delightfully comfortable with their shared routines and places (see also this lovely post by @nightgoodomens). Our car. Our bookshop.

Aziraphale might take longer to catch up, but he does get there.

(SHHH DON'T THINK ABOUT EPISODE 6! STOP! I'M HANGING UP!)

“The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost.” ― G.K. Chesterton

#good omens meta #good omens analysis #good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens lockdown #ineffable idiots #IF YOU READ TO THE END ILYSM but you're probably sitting like a shrimp now so please stretch and hydrate <3 #i've connected the dots #(you haven't connected shit) #maybe i created the dots myself but i connected them #lol i essentially wrote a fixit meta bc the first meta was so sad #long reads #neil gaiman #rob wilkins #tw alcohol #g. k. chesterton #hilaire belloc #the chesterbelloc #aziraphale fumbling a bitch so damn hard #michael sheen's clapped-out sore buttocks

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 40

PREV

The Winter Banquet.

Where the Spring Championship announcements happen for Collegiate Exy. A formal event meant to allow the ERC to showcase how their stars weren’t just brutes on the court. Look at how beautiful and handsome they all were. Look at how they danced together. Look at the smiles and laughter and-

Wait.

No.

Put that down.

Who had the great idea to put the Jackals next to the Terrapins? Things have been tense between the teams since the Captain of the Terrapins stole the Captain of the Jackal’s date during the Fall Banquet!

I thought we all agreed that there would never be any more steak knives! What was the point of paying for all the pre-cut tenderloins if we’re just going to give them steak knives?! 

Really gotta find an intern to pin this fiasco on.

Oh great the Foxes are leaving! Did we even get a picture of Kevin Day in his suit? Fuck it’s going to be a two intern firing kind of day isn’t it.

Someone get an eye on the Ravens before they try and grab some hapless idiot and sacrifice him to revive Riko Moriyama. If there’s even one more damn tabloid with a blurry photo of ‘Riko Moriyama’ to prove that his death was faked then heads will roll.

Honestly, the biopic that some Edgar Allan Film student is making about him seems pretty interesting. The ERC just wishes people would stop taking pics of the ‘lead actor’ and sending it to tabloids as proof that the King hadn’t died.

Fuck, the Foxes left before we got any decent pictures.

Well just great.

You’d think that after all these years of the Foxes leaving early they’d have learned that getting pictures as they arrive is the most important thing. 

Oh thank god it looks like the Trojans are starting to mediate the fight. You can always count on good ol’ Jeremy.

Fuck.

A Raven got too close to Jean Moreau and now Jeremy Knox has punched a Backliner. Great. The Trojans have formed ranks around Moreau but the kid’s just too damn tall. Someone has hit him in the head with an especially saucy meatball, he’s not injured, just confused. The Trojans are acting like it’s a gunshot he just took to the head.

The refreshment table just seemed to collapse in on itself and god wasn’t that just an allegory for this entire damn evening.

Anita Flores sighs as she watches yet another banquet go down in a riot. Honestly, she doesn’t know why they think these will end up differently. She finds herself often missing when she used to coordinate banquets for football teams.

She sighs and thinks about her least favorite interns.

Alex had been getting a bit too cocky lately. He’d make a good sacrifice.

***

(Three hours earlier)

The Palmetto State Foxes were on their way to the Winter Banquet. From what FF understood it was categorically always a 90% chance of a shitshow. Honestly FF was surprised that the percentage was that low.

There was a general tenseness in the air surrounding it that went beyond the Banquet’s propensity to become a fight. 

This year the Winter Banquet was going to be held up at the Binghamton Bearcat’s stadium. The nation knew the story from the news and FF knew the story from both that and from the Foxes themselves who were there at the time in bits and pieces.

Captain Neil had been kidnapped from this stadium and then he’d been tortured. FF hadn’t even been on the team when it had happened and he was anxious about Captain Neil going anywhere near the stadium.

“He was just…he was just gone.” Matt had said, “Neil was gone and Kevin said that he was probably dead when Andrew got back with his phone.” He continued as the two of them sat up late in the living room of the dorm one night back in early October.

“I thought Andrew was going to kill me y’know.” Kevin had said bottle in hand as FF tried to help him up the stairs because apparently he would 100% guarantee vomit if he was in the nausea box. “I thought that maybe I deserved it, since I didn’t help Neil. I just let him walk to his death.” He said and despite assurances that he wouldn’t puke FF’s shoes did not make it through that journey unscathed.

“We called…we called everywhere.” Nicky had stared up at the ceiling of his hospital room, “Andrew was adamant that he was still alive even though Kevin kept saying he was dead and that dead was the nicest thing he could hope for. I thought that was a terrible thing to say.” Nicky curled up closer to him.

“I told you, Andrew dragged me like I was nothing to get to Neil. I don’t think he even noticed the guns.” Wymack said to Abby as the two sat on the back porch during Aras’ going away party. “His eyes were on Neil.” he gestures towards where Andrew was watching Captain Neil wrestle with Matt.

“He looked like shit.” Aaron had said unable to stomach a diagram of different degrees of burn in his medical book. “At least he was alive.” He adds.

“A hero.” Andrew’s voice had been what could be considered teasing from Andrew, “Someone who looks like her.” he had said touching Captain Neil’s burn scars as they drove away from the stadium after coming back to pick FF up.

Captain Neil had come to him the day before they were set to drive out, “Take me somewhere no one will find me for an hour.” FF hadn’t quite understood what Captain Neil meant, he never hid anywhere. People just failed to realize where he was.

“Ok.” he says instead of trying to explain because being unnoticed means no one hid codes from him.

The roof of the Library wasn’t that much different from the roof of the Tower, only that it was taller and bigger. Captain Neil had shut his phone off after texting something, likely to Andrew, and then put it into his pocket.

FF settled on the roof, sat with his back against a heating vent to stay warm. Captain Neil settled next to him and they sat in silence. It felt like back at the start of this where Captain Neil and Andrew would come find him and just sit in silence. 

It was nice. He had missed-

“They act like the stadium is the thing that kidnapped me.” Captain Neil says.

Oh okay, quiet time is over apparently.

FF doesn’t say anything, figuring that nothing he could say right now would be the right thing and maybe Captain Neil just needs to talk through some stuff.

“That stadium is where I thought I’d have my last good memory.” Captain Neil explains, “I’m not scared of it and yet Andrew’s acting like I’ll die if I’m left alone for more than 2 seconds while we’re there. Every time we go there they all act like the most important thing in the world is that I get on that bus at the end of the night.” Captain Neil explains.

FF does remember how Andrew had grabbed Captain Neil after their October game up in Binghamton. How Captain Neil had complained bitterly but had gone after looking at Andrew.

“He’s dead!” Captain Neil exclaimed and FF couldn’t help but look over at the entrance and hoped no one heard them. “He’s dead! I watched him get shot! He can’t kidnap me again!” Captain Neil continued to yell and FF couldn’t help but worry that they’d be heard below, or worse bother a student trying to study below.

FF reached out and touched Captain Neil’s arm and bright blue eyes turned to him, “We’re on a library. Don’t yell.” FF said and Captain Neil looked at him incredulously.

Then he laughed. He laughed and laughed and FF was worried that he’d gone and broken his Captain.

He suddenly felt bad about his own bout of hysterical laughter a while back.

“Thanks Smith.” Captain Neil had said with a smile.

They had sat up there until it was dark and Andrew had started calling FF’s phone and Captain Neil took the call to say he was coming back.

Now they’re on the bus, dressed nicely, and on their way up to Binghamton’s stadium. Captain Neil and Andrew are hidden in the far back of the bus with Andrew looking far more like a watchdog than anything else the closer they got to their destination.

Captain Neil had seemed largely resigned to this treatment at this point. Eventually they were at the stadium and shown to their seats. They were sat across from the Trojans and it seemed like the rest of the team was quite pleased with that.

“Smith!” Captain Jeremy Knox is smiling at him, “Nice to see you again bud, nice name change too.” he says.

“It’s nice to see you too, Captain Jeremy.” FF says and doesn’t notice how Captain Neil’s head whips around to look at him.

“You two know each other?” Nicky asks looking between the two of them with excitement.

“Of course! We offered Smith a spot at the USC Trojans.” Captain Jeremy says and FF feels his stomach cramp at the memory.

That had been terrifying.

Coach Rheman and Captain Jeremy wanted to sit down to make their offer with his parents. He was still 17 and unable to sign anything legal without their permission. He’d tried to decline and move past them and Captain Jeremy had put the final nail in the coffin at the time for any thought that he could go to college on the power of his apparent Exy capabilities.

“I saw in your file that you have brothers! USC always gives a second look at student applicants who already have siblings in the university. You could go to school with your brothers!” he had smiled brightly like he wasn’t issuing FF one of the most terrifying threats he’d ever heard in his entire life.

He had given the firmest ‘No thank you, I’m not interested in playing Exy in college.’ he could and was running to his Grandma’s to breath into a bag for twenty minutes.

“I see you changed your mind about playing Exy in college.” Captain Jeremy said with the same smile that still feels like a threat.

“Coach Wymack and Captain Dan were convincing.” he says and looks to see if there’s any way he can move further away from Captain Jeremy’s attention.

“Can I ask what convinced you to be a Fox?” Captain Jeremy asks, “I’m always trying to see what support we should be offering. I found out last year that we missed out on Andrew because we didn’t offer spots to Aaron or Nicky. I thought since you had brothers that’d be the thing that got you.” Captain Jeremy leans across the table but stops when he notices the Foxes all tense. “Whoa, what’s up?” he asks.

Jean Moreau sighs from next to Captain Jeremy, “Not everyone wants to go to college with their family, Jeremy.” Jean says, “Did it not cross your mind that he changed his entire name?” he asks with a raised brow.

Jeremy blinks, “Oh,” he looks at FF, “I guess that wasn’t the right thing to offer.” he says leaning back in his chair.

“I guess I should thank you for offering that?” Nicky says wryly before turning to look at FF, “You look better in orange anyways.” he says.

“Thank you Nicky.” FF returns loyally.

The banquet gets started shortly afterwards. Food is served. The bar is opened. People are talking. FF finds himself relaxing the longer the conversations around him go on. Matt is talking with a backliner on the Trojan line named Todd in good cheer. Captain Neil, Kevin, and Jean are all talking about the latest updates with Ichirou in French with the occasional gesture towards FF. Jean Moreau looks at him with a raised eyebrow but gives him a single nod when Captain Neil explains what happened.

Jeremy is chatting with Jack and even Jack was finding it hard to maintain his usual level of rudeness in the face of such unbridled positive energy. Nicky was talking with Katelyn and Alvarez. Aaron was chatting with a fellow med student college athlete who was an offensive dealer. 

It was shaping up to be a good night.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

#Fluent Freshman AU #Jeremy Knox essentially threatening FF on accident #With a huge smile #Fucking kills me #Winter Banquet getting into full swing #Ya'll know where it's heading but not all the parts that happen #Foxes are on high alert #No one likes Neil being in Binghamton #There was definitely an all-hands meeting about how Neil is not allowed to go anywhere alone #That if a security guard approaches Neil you treat that security guard like an active threat #Nicky just thinks it's Andrew wanting an excuse to hold his BF's hand all night #Andrew: “Smith you're on covert operations. Keep an eye out for threats.” #FF: “Aye aye Captain.” #Neil: “OH SO NOW HE'S A CAPTAIN TOO? WHAT'S NEXT?!” #Neil is butt hurt about the whole “Captain Jeremy” thing #He could accept it for Dan #But JEREMY? #Neil's gonna need a lot of TLC to get over this betrayal TBFH #In adult news #My closing is next week Friday! #Wooo #I really speedran the whole owning property thing #Thank you bullshit luck #AFTG #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #Andreil #Wow 40 parts on this thing #Still wild #Thanks for joining me on this ride

[elliespuns]

I think Ellie & Dina DID have sex, it really could’ve been clothed sex. I was gonna specify on what they could’ve done but let’s just not…😭 Because being honest, getting changed RIGHT after sex is a bit awkward. Feel like if they did have actual naked sex they would be skin to skin. To be honest I don’t really think Ellie knew what she was doing, maybe she did have some experience with Cat but considering there right behind Joel I doubt they would’ve tried anything if it meant him finding out.

I do think they could’ve had sex a couple times on the farm but nothing too extreme with Ellie’s PTSD & Dina recovering from child birth(then again I feel like Ellie wouldn’t be really concentrated prob zoning out). I feel like if all that with Joel really didn’t happen they’d be very cocky & flirty during the farm era.

I do like to think Ellie & Dina slept naked together during my the farm not to be weird just for more intimate moments even if that didn’t mean sex.

Found this art, at first I did think it was with Seattle Ellie with the hair but Joel’s jacket tells me otherwise. It was probably early into the farm era, maybe a bit before Ellie cut her hair.

This is what I always thought about, too! They were in their underwear. I mean, okay, they were in a weed den, and there was always some danger lurking behind the corner (I don't mean Jesse, lmao), so it's possible they wanted to cuddle naked but decided to take some clothes on just in case. But then again, they would've probably ended up getting dressed all the way, right?

I like to think they had sex, but not exactly what most people imagine when you say 'sex'. I mean, there was certainly touching; they've probably gotten off with each other too. But maybe there was no more to it than them just rubbing against each other with their hands down their pants. Who knows. Fuck, I always said I hated them cutting the scene at the best part!

The reason why we can see Ellie's Seattle hairstyle in the photo from the farm era is because when the artists were drawing the pictures, none of them knew about what Neil was going to decide for the final project. There are many pictures that have mixed outfits and hairstyles from certain parts of the game that have nothing to do with the moments portrayed in the pictures. I kind of love these mix-ups.

Also, Ellie hovering above Dina, being all playful and cheeky with her? Why didn't we get any of this?!

#the last of us #tlou #ellie williams #ellie tlou #dina nolastname #dina tlou #ellie x dina #dinellie #the last of us concept art #elliespuns answers

[mommieswithmuscles]

Photographer!Abby x Scrapbooker!Reader

Free Palestine, don't support Neil

No minors and No men

CW: fluff, angst, no smut but it has a suggestive scene, insecure!reader, mention of suicidal tendencies

Based on this song:

Title: No Flash Photography

You're at the dinner table, going through photos Abby had printed out. She reprinted everything so you could have a copy to put in the ever growing scrapbook you have yet to properly bind.

Each bin she gave you had a title so you could organize better. Nature, gatherings, events, us, and polaroids. You start with the one called nature.

You trim the edges with scissors before securing them in the special photo paper with bug stickers. The dual page is a collage of your trip to a national park. It's mostly shrubbery, plants, trees, and water, but there are some animals and insects sprinkled in.

You turn the page and make another collage out of the open space, both sides decorated with a yarn trim. Gatherings weren't really your thing, but Abby liked them, and you obviously like Abby, so you go to each one. You admire how she always brings her big camera.

The next collage is your brother's wedding. Him and his partner are dressed accordingly. You wore basic attire, Abby wore a plain suit. "When are you both getting married?" He had asked after Abby's camera shot the photo.

"Eventually," Abby answered for you both. You nodded in agreement. You knew you underdressed to match the other guests, but you couldn't help but feel you're taking away from the newlyweds. Abby caught onto your dismissive behavior and took you home early.

Shaking your head to clear out the memory, you continue to dig through the bin and retrieve more pictures. A few birthday parties, a couple engagement parties, some random game nights. You secure them with glitter glue, putting more of the colorful yarn around the trims like LEDs.

Pictures of you always have to have Abby. Otherwise you want nothing to do with them and tend to throw them away. Abby's trying to help you with your insecurity, but for some reason you can't work past it. You sigh, pulling out ones you convince yourself you like. Mostly dates, but a few random ones from trips catch your attention, so you add them. The pictures are secured with affirmation stickers that Abby bought you a few months back, when you first started scrapbooking.

The bin you were most nervous for was polaroids. You know they're mostly you, and you know they make Abby happy, but... you get upset every time you look at pictures of yourself.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Abby sits next to you, done with her work for the week. She came out of her office as soon as she was able to. Her hand cups your cheek, thumb ready to swipe away the unshed tears.

"I can't do it. I fucking- I can't, Abby. It's too hard." You kick the bin.

"Why don't I help you?" She presses her lips to your forehead. "We can start with holidays. Would that work?"

"Do it yourself," you bite.

"Don't start that. I know you're upset. I know these make you upset-"

"So why do you make me look at them? I told you that you could keep them, and now-" you gesture to the bin. "We don't need to share everything, especially not these."

"I make you look at them because I'm trying to show you what I see." She's patient. Too patient. Maybe if she could ever be mad at you, or fight with you instead of talk things out, maybe it would hurt less.

The thoughts start to spiral before you can stop them. All of the self worth and self esteem you had built towards crumbling in seconds. And there's Abby, taking care of you because you can't handle something as stupid as putting pictures in a book. Maybe you were better off-

"Eyes on me baby," her voice is gentle. Her hands guide you to face her, thumbs taking away the tears trailing down your cheeks. "That's my girl," she whispers. "You're so kind, and beautiful, and I love you more than anything. I'm glad you came into my life because you're the compass to my map. I wouldn't have it any other way. I've never been more happy than when I've been with you. I married you because you're my person. You're the moon to my stars, the sun for my flowers, and every breath I take with you fills my lungs with fresh air. I know you're in a darker place. And that's ok. We can work you through it step by step." She pulls you into her lap, rubbing your back as you bury yourself in her neck. You can smell your perfume on her. "You're safe, you're loved, you're home." Abby kisses your temple.

After you calm down, Abby lets you go. "Thank you," you sniffle, getting up to grab some tissues.

"Anything for you, my love." You get back to see Abby gluing small, flat, silver tack backs on the polaroids to secure them on the page. It looks like a cork board. Some of the photos are strung on yarn, some singles floating about, and one standing out the most. It's one of you genuinely smiling, tugging Abby along as you make your way to your destination.

"Come on, it's this way!" You had said, nearly dragging Abby through the mud. She's laughing behind you, scooping you up and kissing you once you got to the surprise spot at the creek. She kept her hands under your thighs when your legs wrapped around her waist.

"This view is almost as stunning as you are," Abby said as she put you down.

"Oh hush," you pushed her away lightly. "Ass-kisser."

"No, no, you don't know," she shook her head, voice mocking. She laid with you in the short grass, dirt dry under your backs. You initiated the contact, but she kissed you first, hands traveled along your body until you were gasping for air and begging for her.

"Baby? Where'd you go just now?" Abby's fingers tickle at your jaw as she cups your face.

"Here," you point at the picture you got lost in.

"I'm going to start dinner. Today seems like it was hard for you, and you could use some time away from the pictures for now. You- or we- can start back up soon, ok?"

"Ok," you agree easily. She's right. It's better to take a break, than let something be ruined.

#Spotify #no men allowed #no minors allowed #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #abby the last of us 2 #abby x reader #fluff #angst #from the river to the sea palestine will be free

[thegreencanary]

Hands off

Based on this request!!

TW: This is a HEAVY one. Please take these seriously! Sexual Assault, drugs, smoking, Cursing, Fighting, Blood, light Smut; MINORS YOU BETTER GET OUT OF HERE. This is not for you. DNI

Summary: Jason Carver has his eyes on you and no matter what you do, he wont stop until he has you…or so he thinks

A/N: This is a pretty dark one guys, so please, please, please take the trigger warnings seriously. I will not be offended at all if you skip reading over this because it may be too upsetting. Mental health is more important babes!! It’s a lot of fluff with a bit of angst.

Just one day, for the love of God, you wanted just one day of school where the basketball team didn’t swarm your locker or harass you at lunch. You’d managed to get by most of your semester without anyone paying attention to you; until Billy Hargrove started dating you. There was some weird rivalry between him and Jason Carver. They fought over tables at lunch, parking spots, game plays and most of all: you. There was no competition in your eyes, Billy was clearly the better option. Most people didn’t understand that because he was a bit of an asshole but not to you. Robin Buckley was one of your best friends and the two of you got dragged into the Upside Down drama, and Billy started to trust you more and more. Long story short, you were there for him through Neil, Max trusted you and he learned how to be vulnerable around you. Jason Carver made Pussy jokes and groped you at any given moment, to you it was a clear winner. Billy was the right one for you, but no matter how much you told Jason to Fuck off he just came back harder and harder. Today, he was leaning against your locker and waiting for you, you always got to school early to tutor some kids. Billy would usually meet you when the other kids showed up but Jason decided to be early today.

“Move Carver.”

He smirked and moved so you could open your locker, leaning on his shoulder he grabbed a strand of your hair and you smacked it off.

“Hello to you too Y/N”

“Fuck off Carver”

You pulled your locker open and grabbed a few things, there was a Polaroid of you and Billy that always made you smile, and Jason grabbed it.

“Give it back Asshole.”

“Make me.”

“Jason I swea-“

“Carver. I know you’re not bothering my girlfriend. Especially at her locker when I told you to never talk to her again.”

You chuckled and smiled as Billy came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Relief and safety washed over you, there was something about his arms that just made you feel untouchable to the outside world. Jason dropped the picture and scoffed.

“I’m just reminding your bitch what she’s missing out on.”

You tightly held Billy’s arms to you as you felt him try to pull away after Jason called you a bitch. He wasn’t worth getting into a fight with and you just wanted to spend the rest of your morning with your boyfriend. Jason walked away as if he had won something and you rolled your eyes, finally letting Billy release you.

“One day I’m gonna shut my locker on his face.”

You chuckled as you bent down to get the photo. Billy hadn’t seen it before, he never liked being photographed; and you didn’t either but this one photo of the two of you laughing in a hug was special. Billy looked so carefree and you looked so in love with him. This time Billy grabbed the photo and you rolled your eyes.

“Can I please have that back?”

He was quiet as he looked at it. Pulling his wallet out, he put the photo in there.

“No.”

Billy smiled and pulled you in for a kiss. It was the kind of kiss that made you wish you were in the privacy of your own room. He had a way of making your body react with the simplest of actions. The noise of the school starting to fill with students faded away and all you could focus on was Billy’s body on yours. He pulled away and you stood there breathless.

“I’ll pick you up tonight for Tina’s party okay? Don’t…I know Carver will be there so, don’t wander too far from me okay? We both know how fucking stupid he is.”

You nodded, still not fully able to speak. Billy smirked and kissed your cheek, winking at you. He whispered in your ear and you almost smacked him.

“You look good today baby.”

“Billy I swear to God, unless you’re going to pull me into a room and fuck me right now you better stop.”

He chuckled and stood there considering it. You grabbed your books and shut your locker.

“Oh my god that wasn’t a suggestion!”

You laughed and kissed him shortly, then headed to your class. You could feel Him staring at you with a smile as you walked away.

————————————

You sighed as you looked at your two outfit options. The cute short leather skirt and Def Leppard shirt looked great with it but Jason’s annoying ass voice was in the back of your head. He as uncomfortable confident wandering hands all day at school and it made you want to go with option two, a sweater and some jeans. Yea it was hot but you’d planned on staying inside for the party. You were pissed that a stupid boy made you so uncomfortable that you wanted to change what you wore. Shaking off the thought you grabbed the leather skirt and put the outfit on. The mirror reminded you that you didn’t need to worry about what Jason Carver thought. You were hot, and this was Billy’s payback for teasing you in the morning. You were going to have fun with him tonight, other basketball Jock’s be damned.

You heard your door open, your little brother must have let Billy in the house. He let out a low whistle as you tied up your doc martens.

“I think we can skip the party…”

You chuckled at his comment. Standing you fluffed your hair one time and turned towards him.

“Where’s the fun in that? Am I driving tonight or are you?”

You two always picked a DD. He’d had enough issues of drinking too much and driving home, almost killing the both of you after one party. It shook him enough to change how you two went out together. He shrugged.

“Up to you. It’s early so we can both have a few and if you want to go hard I can ease up.”

You rolled your eyes, that meant you’d be driving. It didn’t bother you because you didn’t like getting drunk at Tina’s parties anyways; but he could at least just own up to wanting to get drunk.

“Cool, give me your keys.”

He just chuckled and threw the keys at you.

“God I…you’re great.”

“I know.”

You got goosebumps because you thought he was going to say the L word finally, but not yet. He smacked your ass and you let out a giddy Yelp as you two end to the car and drove to the party.

Holy hell party was an understatement. It was a fully blown rave damn near. How Tina got away with this shit blew your mind but there had to be kids from other towns and schools because the front lawn was even packed. You parked Billy’s precious car a few houses down, just in case someone wanted to try and get stupid and do something to it. The pair of you walked in, his arm around your shoulder and your arm around his waist. Part of the benefit of dating Hawkins royalty was the sea of kids parting for Billy to get inside. Almost immediately the two of you had a beer in your hands, you’d have 1 maybe 2 while Billy would round out 15-20. You felt uneasy for a moment and looking around you couldn’t figure out why, so you tried to shake it off. Tonight was for Billy and you.

“22…..23……24……25…..26….27…..28….29….30!!!!”

Billy was getting cheered on as he did his famous Keg Stand. You were right there cheering alongside him but you had to pee.

“Hey Steve, if he finishes can you tell him I’ll be right back? I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Sure thing. Want me to hold your drink for you?”

“No, it’s almost empty and I don’t want anyone giving me another so I’m just gonna act like it’s full. I’m driving tonight.”

“You’re a freaking genius you know that?”

“Just looking out for the people I care about.”

Steve smiled at you and nudged you to go. You hit one more cigarette puff and headed inside. People knew who you were but they didn’t part for you like they did for Billy; instead they swarmed you and all tried to talk to you. It took about 3 minutes but you managed to get to the bathroom. Filling your drink with water after peeing, you took a deep breath and headed back out. Someone bumped into you and spilled your drink all over your shirt.

“What the fuck!”

No one around looked like they were responsible, and a perky young freshman girl came up to you with another drink.

“Oh my God that guy was an ass. Here!”

You sighed. Two beers should be fine, you took it and thanked her. She looked like you just gave her $1,000. Chuckling, you tried to find your way back to Billy.

———————————-

7 minutes had passed, maybe, but you were on the floor. The drink had to have had something in it. You couldn’t stand, or even talk. Everyone just chalked it up to you being drunk but you felt like everything was blurry. Leaning against the wall you sat trying to make yourself small, if you just waited it out…

“Well well well. The queen of Hawkins on her knees.”

No fucking way. You tried to cover your face with your hands but Jason was bigger than you and he just picked you up.

“N….o. Help….me.”

You tried to reach out but your body was moving too slow. Jason just shushed you and took you upstairs, the place you would go with Billy when you two got heated at the parties. Jason opened a door and a couple was already topless but Jason kicked them out. He locked the door.

“Stop….”

You tried to roll away when he threw you on the bed but again…your damn body wouldn’t move. You felt him rip your shirt open and hot tears flowed down your face. He groped you, pulling your bra up so your chest was fully exposed. His lips attacked you and you did all you could do…cry.

—————-

Billy was fucking mad. You were supposed to stay with him the whole night. Harrington said you went to the bathroom but that was like 20 minutes ago. Billy’s buzz was gone, he’d sobered up looking for you, and even had Harrington looking. People seemed to forget you even existed, until Billy noticed a freshman girl looking scared shitless when he approached.

“Hey beautiful, you haven’t seen my girlfriend have you?”

He tried to ease her nerves by flirting a bit. She was fuckin shaking.

“Umm. She was over in the corner on the floor. I think Jason is taking care of her. He took her upstairs. She looked really fucked up.”

Billy’s heart dropped.

“CARVER!!”

He YELLED. Most people didn’t stop partying but Billy didn’t see him, he had to still be upstairs with you. Running up, Billy began damn near kicking doors down until he got to a locked one.

——————-

His hands were tougher than Billy’s. He toyed with your skirt and pushed it up, exposing your lace underwear.

“For me? Oh baby you shouldn’t have.”

His hand ghosted over your core when the door was broken open.

“You’re dead Carver.”

Billy wasn’t a musical man but his voice sounded like a choir of Angels. You managed to pull yourself up after about a minute and a half. You were 1/2 naked and exposed, red hickies on your body from Jason’s unwanted kisses. It was all so god damn blurry but Billy and Jason were fighting. You tried to cover yourself but you were too weak.

“Oh my god Y/N….”

Robin. Thank fucking God Robin was there. Steve must have found her. She put your bra right and pulled your skirt down. Whoever’s room you were in had a closet and Robin grabbed a random t-shirt. It was 4 sizes too big but it covered your ripped clothes.

The boys were still fighting. You felt sick. Robin was trying to lift you when Steve came in. He didn’t need context to know what happened. Everyone knew, Jason drugged you and tried to rape you. Steve’s job was to keep Billy from killing Jason.

“Billy! Stop! He’s fucking unconscious man!”

“I. Don’t. Fucking. Care.”

Each word was emphasized with a punch. Billy was plenty bloody from Jason’s hits but he was the Hawkins king for a reason. Steve grabbed Billy and forced him to look at you.

“Fucking help her get home man. We will deal with Carver.”

Steve wasn’t the best of friends with Billy originally but after Starcourt they got pretty close. Billy would never admit it, but he liked Steve, and god damn he was smart for focusing Billy on you. Robin was holding you, trying to calm you and you were crying still.

“I got her Robin.”

He felt in your skirt pocket and grabbed his keys. The adrenaline washing any excess alcohol out of him, he picked you up and carried you to the car. Leaving Steve to make sure Jason wasn’t dead. Billy didn’t care. He’d go to jail for you…but you’d be left without him, unprotected. He couldn’t do that to you.

“It’s okay baby. I’m here. I’m here.”

It was settling in. The image of Jason over your exposed body…his hand almost in your pants…Billy was the one crying now. He reached the car and gently placed you inside. You reached for him as he went to go to the driver side.

“I’m…so…rry”

Billy brought his lips to yours, bending down to kiss you deeply.

“You did nothing wrong baby. NOTHING. I should have been there. I shouldn’t have let you get….I should have been there.

The drive home was silent and thankfully your parents were asleep when he got you home. Like most parents in Hawkins, they never cared if Billy spent the night or where their daughter was on nights. He gently removed your clothes and A fresh set of tears hit you both as the red hickies painted your skin. Billy got you in the tub and bathed you, cleaning your hair and helping take your makeup off. He knew you’d feel dirty anyways but he just wanted to help. You mumbled apologies and cried as he took care of you. His only response was soft kisses and kind words.

“I… love you.”

You mumbled as he tucked you in, wearing one of his big t-shirts to bed. He smiled at the words, but they were for the morning.

——————-

Sure enough the morning came and you woke up with a pounding headache. Running to the bathroom you almost put your stomach into the toilet. You felt Billy’s hand on your back, and after successfully removing your entire contents in your stomach you looked to him.

“How did we get home? I’m so sorry I must have gotten plastered last night… I don’t remember pretty much anything after I got my second beer.”

It didn’t register how wounded he was until after you stopped talking.

“Billy? Baby what happened? Are you okay?”

You felt like shit, by far and away the worst hangover you’ve ever had. You got up and brushed your teeth, patiently waiting for Billy to tell you what happened. He just hugged you from behind.

“Billy? Honey who did you fight?”

“Carver.”

Normally his name had some hate attached to it but this time Billy said it with venom. You sighed and turned, sitting on the sink and pulled Billy to stand in between your legs. You tilted his chin.

“Well he got a few good ones in, but you don’t look too bad. What did he do this time?”

Jason face filled your mind but it was an expression you didn’t remember. You shook it off and refocused on Billy. He’d only ever looked this upset when he was in the hospital after the mall incident.

“Baby? Are you okay?”

Your voice was so soft and Billy began to cry again. You were shocked, but you didn’t know what he had to tell you. He had to tell you that you were drugged because he wasn’t with you. He didn’t find you in time and Jason had gotten to you first.

“You went to the bathroom…I figured you’d be back, Harrington said you’d be back… but you weren’t. I went looking for you, and someone…someone said you upstairs with Jason.”

He felt you go rigid. His arms wrapped around you tighter, and his dropped gaze moved to your shoulder as he rested his head on you. He couldn’t see your face as he told you.

“I got there as fast as I could…he had drugged you. You were…he ripped your top. He touched you, I didn’t let finish though.”

A heavy silence sat in your small bathroom. You felt claustrophobic, like the walls were suffocating you; but your crying boyfriend pulled you back. Jason tried to rape you, and Billy saved you. He was blaming himself for everything.

“Oh baby. Billy it’s not your fault. You can’t be with me every second of the day. Baby… look at me.”

Billy hesitated but he pulled his head from your shoulder. You were crying but your eyes were full of patience and love. God he loved you so much.

“Jason will get what he deserves. I’m okay because of you. Nothing that happened is your fault but I’m okay because of you.”

Billy kissed you softly. The air around you two got lighter.

“You kept apologizing. Like it was your fault. I wanted to kill him. I…I don’t know if I did or not.”

“We will cross that bridge if we get there, for now; we’re both okay. Alright? Billy, baby, I’m okay. I mean I feel like I just got hit by a train but I’m okay.”

He chuckled softly at your joke and you smiled. His desperation in his hold on you changed to a much more loving hug as he pulled you in again. Lifting you off the sink he took you back to bed.

“Y/N…I, last night you said something I wanted to say first, but I’ve been too scared because I can’t handle it if you don’t say it back.”

You chuckled. Looks like drugged up you is a lot more fearless than you are normally.

“I love you Billy Hargrove.”

“Thank fucking God. I love you too”

The day was lazy. The two of you spent it in bed eating and watching movies. He did most of the eating because you felt awful, but he was there the whole time. Steve called at one point; Jason was alive but in the hospital. He wasn’t going to say anything because he would be responsible for attempted rape. You were still going to press charges. Steve and Robin would be witnesses, Billy would probably be charged with assault but it was for protection so it would be dropped. You took a moment to look at the love of your life.

“Thank you Billy. For everything.”

“Shut up idiot. You’re the one I should be thanking. Stop being mushy and watch the damn movie.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead, and you laughed. The dark night was over and it was a beautiful sunset on the horizon.

——-

A/N: This is my work and I don’t give anyone the permission to post it anywhere claiming to be someone else’s. Thanks for reading!! Please interact ❤️🖤❤️

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy stranger things #billy x reader #stranger things #billy could have been saved #billy x you #billy deserved better #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x you

[latelyanobsession]

Crop Tops and Flip Flops

summary the origin story of billy’s lifeguard photo.

warnings none

word count 847

note i’ve squinted at this pretty hard. i think it reads as a x gn!reader you can always get a hold of me if i’ve missed something. but hopefully it’s readable for everyone’s enjoyment.

also i wrote this in a way of billy being kinda camera shy because i can imagine him being yelled at by neil to have to smile in pictures all the time, so the idea of having to act fake or forcibly smile for a photo vs being able to be genuine may make him less fond of having his photo taken.

As always any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It was a mildly warm Saturday afternoon in May and you were on a mission. 

The Hawkins Community Pool would soon be opening for Memorial Day and Ms. Warner asked you to take pictures for the Hawkins High yearbook. 

Mr. Kleckly, the Parks and Rec superintendent also wanted to borrow you and your camera for a modest price of $10 a day for the pool’s annual opening and a few extra afternoons to document a summer of fun on behalf of the city. 

You would be returning to take pictures next weekend and at least another five through the end of July.

You were rather proud of yourself for landing this coveted side hustle. 

Not many high schoolers were given such a privilege, it being previously farmed out to the Hawkins Post.

Pulling into the parking lot you smiled. Summer was about to start, you could hear it already.

They were testing the speakers, The Beach Boys’ Kokomo blaring out from the pool, a man yelling in to the electrical closet to adjust the volume.

Pulling your camera bag from the back seat and your additional lens, you headed to the pool.

Walking in the front gate you walked up to the admissions and concessions window. 

A curly-haired brunette, her hair in a high pony and sunglasses perched atop her head, was sitting on the counter. 

Her legs were crossed as she gossiped with a broad-chested jock pulling water bottles from their packaging.

Looking away from him, she focused her eyes on you, blowing a large bubble of gum until it popped obnoxiously.

“You here for pictures?” she questioned, chewing away.

“Uh... yeah.” you said, shrugging with all your gear.

“Awesome.” she popped another bubble.

Hopping from the counter, she waved for you to follow.

There was a folding table near some lockers that had been set up for you.

“Just let us know when you’re ready.” she walked off to go finish her conversation.

“Thanks!” you called after her.

Placing your bags down, you unpacked and pulled out your camera.

You first took a few test shots of the empty pool. Testing the lighting. Seeking out which angels you preferred best.

Next you pulled out your most reliable lens. Testing more shots.

California Girls was starting to play over the speakers. And you started to bob your head along to the song habitually, as you adjusted the lens.

Bringing the camera back up to your eye, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

“Beach Boys fan?”  a husky voice asked.

He was so close to the camera, your lens was fogging over.

Your hold on it fumbling as you tried to compose yourself. You damn near dropped it.

“N-no. Not really. It’s just catchy.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, steadying your grip on your most prized possession.

He smirked. “Don’t we have a class together?”

Checking your camera for damage, you looked up at him.

“Maybe.”

“Yeah. Spanish... that’s it.” he looked at you smugly.

You weren’t so sure you liked that look.

Securing the strap around your neck, you put the last adjustments on your camera.

“Do you wanna go first?” you asked.

“First?” he questioned.

You gave a small wave with your camera. He shook his head ‘no’.

“–’M sure Heather would love to...” he drawled.

“Ok.”

Turning on your heels you headed back to the entrance to grab the other lifeguards.

As he predicted. Heather indeed loved to.

You actually lied and told her you were running out of film so that you would be able to move on to the others.

All the while you saw your classmate hanging in the background.

Lighting up a cigarette, watching as the others posed candidly for you.

You couldn’t recall his name but it was becoming clearer to you...

You hadn’t seen many pictures of him for the yearbook layout either.

Did he not like having his picture taken?

He seemed like a pretty outgoing guy.

Soon enough he was the only remaining person in need of photos.

“Your turn...” you smiled softly.

He took one last drag from his cigarette before ashing it out on the trash can lid.

Nervously pulling at the cutout neckline of his crop top, he awkwardly looked at you.

“Where ya want me?”  he asked.

“How bout over there?” you pointed to the lifeguard tower.

He nodded, heading over.

“Do I have to smile?” he truly seemed out of his element.

You laughed.

“Not if you don’t want to. This isn’t a cover shoot for Vogue.”

He laughed lightly, becoming more relaxed.

“Do whatever you want. Be yourself.” you reasoned, lifting the camera.

Dropping back his shoulders, resting an arm on the chair he lifted his head high and stared forward.

“Ya ready?” you asked.

“Yup.”

Click click. Click click.

“Do you want to take any others?” you asked simply.

“Nah I’m good.” he stated, walking away.

“Hey...” you slipped the strap from your neck to your shoulder, “remind me your name.”

Pulling his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose he smirked.

“It’s Billy.”

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things oneshot #stranger things drabble #billy hargrove #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #gn!reader #stranger things x gn reader #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove headcanon #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n

[imaginingmarvelandeverything]

Epilogue

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x F!Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for season 3 (do I really need to say this anymore), mentions of death

Word Count: 1271

A/N: I finally finished unpacking! So, here’s the epilogue of nightmares and bruises! I’m planning to write the alternative ending this week, so it will hopefully be up by the end of the week. Hope you like it!!!

Ko-Fi

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Three months later

“You got everything?” Jonathan asked as Y/N and her mom climbed out of the Camaro and Steve pulled into the Byers’ drive behind them.

“She better have, we went through the whole house about fifty times.” Her mom smiled.

“More like a hundred.” Steve said as he walked over.

“It wasn’t that many.” Y/N protested. “What about you guys?”

Jonathan nodded. “We’re just grabbing the last few things.”

“I’m going to go and see if Joyce needs any help, and thank her again for letting you make the drive with them.” Her mom walked into the house.

Y/N knew that the only reason her mom was still okay with her going to California on her own was because she could drive the majority of the way with the Byers’. Losing Hopper had been the final straw for Joyce, she sold the house not long after what happened at Starcourt and decided to move across the country to Lenora Hills, California. She had also taken El in, considering she had no where else to go. But luckily their move out dates had coincided, which meant Y/N could make the drive across country with the Byers’, before making the final push to San Diego on her own.

She pushed herself onto the Camaro’s bonnet and Steve joined her. Neil had completely disappeared after Billy’s funeral; even Susan had no idea where he had gone. But he left everything of Billy’s behind, including the wreck of the Camaro. Susan was happy for Y/N to take it. Everyone thought she was crazy; when she had it towed home, it wasn’t even driveable. She knew where Billy kept his savings and she gave half of them to Max to help her and Susan find a new place, and used the other half to rebuild the car. She did the work she could herself and an old friend of her dad’s who had helped him rebuild the mustang helped her with the rest. Now the car looked brand new again.

She also helped Max and Susan clear out Billy’s room. That had been the hardest thing. She kept coming across items that made her breakdown all over again. But eventually they got it done. Max kept a few of his things, records and cassettes mostly. Y/N took the records and cassettes Max didn’t want, his whole paper back collection, a few t-shirts and his denim jacket. His St Christopher’s pendent was hanging around her neck, she hadn’t taken it off since Susan had given it to her at the funeral. Most of Billy’s things were still in her room at home, but she was taking some of his vinyl’s, the t-shirts, the denim jacket, and the mixtapes he had made her were in the glove box, ready to be listened to on the drive. The battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye that held all his photos was safely wrapped up in one of her boxes. She noticed the picture of his mom again when she packed it.

His mom hadn’t been at the funeral. Y/N didn’t know if that was because no one knew how to contact her, Billy had never known her new address or number, if Neil had banned her from attending, or if someone had told her and she just chose not to attend. For Billy’s sake, Y/N hoped it was one of the former reasons.

“You’ll come and visit, right?” Y/N pulled herself out of her own thoughts and took Steve’s hand.

“Of course I will.” Steve smiled, his eyes briefly drifting to the scar on her head. It was the only physical reminder of what had happened. The bruises had faded, her cast had been taken off, the only thing that was left was the scar. “I mean, I’d be an idiot to pass up the chance to spend spring break in California, imagine all of the ladies.”

She laughed. The ache in her chest was still there, but moments like these eased it slightly. “You are not bringing random girls back to my apartment, I do not need to hear that.”

Steve smiled before getting serious again. “But you’ll stay in touch, right?”

“Of course. I’ll write you letters, and you better send me some back, Harrington.” She sent him a faux stern look

He nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, don’t worry, they’ll be pages long, filled with all the shenanigans that come from working in a video store.”

“I think you mean they’ll be filled with your dating escapades and random shit Robin does.” She laughed again.

He joined in. They turned around and climbed off the car as everyone came out of the house with the last few boxes. They walked over to help add the last few things in Jonathan’s car and the U-Haul van which was towing Joyce’s car.

“Everyone got everything?” Joyce looked at her sons before looking towards Y/N and El.

They all nodded, and everyone realised this was it. The goodbyes started and so did the tears. Y/N hugged Dustin, Mike, Nancy and Lucas before moving over to Max. She pulled the younger girl into her and Max clung onto her.

“You call me, or write to me, if you need anything, alright?” Y/N said through her tears.

“Yeah. Have fun in California, he’d be glad you’re going.” Max started crying too.

“I know.” Y/N kissed Max’s forehead and watched as she walked over to say bye to El. Y/N turned back to Steve who had just finished saying goodbye to Dustin. He walked over and pulled her into him. She fisted the back of his shirt in her hands and he tightened his grip on her.

“He’d be proud of you.” Steve told her.

“He’s coming with me.” She confessed, and he was, in the Camaro, the necklace, his belongings.

“Look after yourself, and I’ll see you at Christmas.” He pressed his lips against her temple and pulled back.

“I’ll see you at Christmas.” She turned to her mom, who had been watching the exchange with tears in her eyes. She walked into her mom’s arms.

“I’m so proud of you, and I know your dad and Billy would be as well. Call me whenever you want, and you’ll smash it at college. But remember to have fun. As long as it’s safe.”

“Mom!” She laughed through her tears, her mom doing the same.

“Drive safe.”

“I’ll see you at Christmas.” Y/N walked back over to the Camaro as her mom joined the others who were staying in Hawkins.

El walked over to Y/N. “Can I ride with you?”

“Of course you can.” Y/N smiled and they both climbed into the car. She flashed her headlights when they were ready and Joyce set off, followed by Jonathan. They waved to the others one last time and she pulled the Camaro out of the drive. “Why don’t you pick a mix tape?” She told El.

El grabbed one and pushed it into the cassette player. Rebel Yell by Billy Idol flooded through the car and Y/N smiled, thinking back to the first time she had been in this car. Yes, Billy was coming with her to California after all.

Alternative Ending

Taglist: In the reblogs

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargove imagine #stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things 2 #nightmares and bruises #Max Mayfield #eleven #Nancy Wheeler #jonathan byers #steve harrington #mike wheeler #will byers #Lucas Sinclair #dustin henderson

[tarotoftheendless]

Tom Sturridge Imposters... well, really any celeb imposters, but especially TomStu

There are a fuck ton of imposters/catfishers/scammers out there claiming to be the real Tom Sturridge. There are fake accounts on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok and even texting apps like Telegram!

And this post is here to help fans navigate the confusing situation of dealing with these fakers. We will help each other weed out and vet these accounts.

I plan to also post pics of known fake accounts as to warn other fans against trusting them. We don't want any of our Tom Sturridge lovers to be hurt out there because they love Tom so much that they really believe that he is talking to them.

But what you need to realize is is this: TOM DOES NOT HAVE ANY SOCIAL MEDIA. Period. He has an old Nokia phone and has said that he does not have access to the internet.

Maybe that is completely true, maybe not, but if he is on social media at all it would not be with his own name and it wouldn't be with his own picture. He is a private man and as far as we know right now, he doesn't have any social media.

Here are a couple sources that are proof of what I am talking about:

This text is from Neil Gaiman himself and it states:

Tom is not on social media. He's not asking anyone for secret private charitable donations. Anyone asking for money is a scammer trying to steal money from other people by fraud.

I am on lots of social media and I get continual messages about fake Neil Gaimans asking people to contribute money to charity or whatever.

It's not Tom. It's not me. It's not ever a celebrity. It just someone hoping to trick you out of money or into something you don't want to do.

The text with this Instagram post from @tomsturridgefans states:

Please read. Scam Warning:- Some of you will know that I am a fan of Tom mostly through the theatre. Although I came across him firstly in 'Being Julia' 18 years ago.

I never had been so excited for him when I heard he was to be The Sandman. However, our little fanbase I feared would change forever. Today at Comic Con it became very clear (nothing to do with CC but what I learnt from a new fan).

I started a social media account for Tom only recently to try have a safe space for us to talk and chat and share photos/ artwork. I feared that it would be full of people taking advantage and being a bit crazy in a creepy way. Good crazy is okay!

I even started getting dodgy messages and ignored them. I started getting them on my personal account too, as my photo was an old one with Tom and I. I had to change it (sadly) and the messages stopped. That account has always been private, but you could see my profile photo.

Please understand Tom doesn't do social media. He will not message you or 'agents' pretending they can get you in touch with him. I won't name person, but I learnt they believed it. They paid money for fan card, meet and greets etc. Tom does not do any of this. Please be so careful. Tom or any celebrity will not ask you for money. They have their own, hehe! These are people scamming you and even cat fishing you.

Impersonating someone is illegal. Let me know and I can help report and post on here to warn you to avoid. Please keep safe.

************************************************************************

Please take note of some common things to look out for when wondering if an account is real or an imposter:

They have not been an account for very long. Especially if they were established right after The Sandman first came out.

The location that they are based out of. Some accounts you can check to see if they have a country of origin and if it is a weird location, like Nigeria as many of them are, then it is a scam.

How many times the account has changed their name. Yes, some official accounts have changed their name many times, like I have had to do a few times when I myself had a stalker but I digress. If it looks weird and they have changed their name more than once, it is probably a scam.

Now to the meat of it: If they refuse to not do anything except text you, they are a scammer/fake.

If they say that their team/management has control over all their devices and won't let them call or video chat or even send pictures, they are a fake.

If they say that they can give you info to contact their team/management about becoming a "true fan", and that management then quotes you any amount of money to be able to finally get in full contact with Tom, they are a fake.

That being said, "Fan Cards", "Fan Codes" and anything of that nature that they say is needed to get into full contact with Tom is a scam.

If they, the fake Tom/celeb or the "team/management" asks for private information like bank info or address or anything of that nature, that is a scam.

If the fake gets mad at you for being wary or scared or you simply questioning him about his own validity, then that is a scammer. Tom is almost 40 years old, he is above getting mad at people on the internet like that, considering he doesn't have a social media at all in the first place. But those scammers are trying to prey on your "please love me" sensibilities when it comes to Tom and they are trying to shame you into feeling bad for asking questions and not blindingly believing them. If they get mad at questions, they are a scam.

That being said, yeah, if they get mad at you asking screening questions or really just asking them questions about themselves, then they are a scam. They likely don't even fucking know as there is rarely someone that has done their research on Tom that is also am imposter.

Though, there are a couple of good imposters out there that have done their research, so just because they can answer all the Tom questions correctly doesn't mean they are Tom. Remember all the other signs that I have listed. Some of these scammers are good enough to have done their research and yet all the other signs will be there. Stay vigilant!

Also, though I feel weird about mentioning this, but broken English is also a sign. I know not everyone's first language is English, but Tom's is. Tom may be awkward sometimes but he is more articulate than not. I would think that if he is gonna text at all he is going to make sure it is written well and understood clearly. Tom is a well-read, well-educated articulate almost 40 year old Englishman, he would speak and text English very well.

Anyone starting out their text with "Hello Lovely fan" or anything like that is very much an imposter. Also if you get asked how long you have been a fan by these accounts claiming to be Tom, they are likely a scammer.

Another thing to look out for is if they are trying to get you to go to a different social media app and or texting/chatting app for a more "private" conversation because their "team"/"management" is watching them, like Google Chat, especially Google Chat, then they are an imposter. Even if they don't mention their team or management and they are just trying to get you off of Instagram, Facebook or TikTok onto a more "private" chat app, then that is a sign of an imposter.

So, if someone claiming to be Tom says that he isn't with Alexa Chung and or that their relationship is a publicity stunt, don't believe them. They are likely not actually Tom and are trying to get you comfortable around them.

We don't know for sure if their relationship is fake or real, but for now it should be taken as real considering even Sienna recently went on Vogue and talked about Alexa essentially being a part of the family now. Yes, there has been rumors for years that Alexa is a professional beard, but those are rumors, and rumors are not true and shouldn't be taken as such.

And anyone who is a fan of Tom's has seen the month of Alexa Chung birthday celebrations content where they kiss and look happy and are with family and friends. Many of those videos are deeply buried as they were intended to be private even though they are on social media. But because they are coming from family and friends socials and not paparazzi, then we should consider those pictures and videos to be true.

Alexa and Tom are happily together and anybody claiming to be Tom Sturridge saying otherwise is likely an imposter.

************************************************************************

I am posting this because I know what it is like to get your hopes up and to be mentally and emotionally drained by these imposters. I know some people that have actually lost thousands of dollars because they really believed they were talking to the real Tom Sturridge. They weren't. Please be careful out there guys.

I will post videos below that show the proof that Tom doesn't have social media of any kind. At least none that the general public will ever get their hands on, so, you have been informed now. Let's help each other stay safe. If you find any imposter accounts out there report and block them.

I will list the Instagram accounts that I know about so far that are imposters that I have blocked. I have also found accounts on Facebook that are imposters too but I have to find them again.

INSTAGRAM IMPOSTERS:

tomsurridge1988

privatetomsturridge420

tomsturridge6

private.tomsturridge02

pvt_tom_surridge4768

pvttomsturridge

sturridge934

realtomsturridge__

tomstrurridge6

tom__sturridge_

sturridge__

official_tom_sturridge

tom.sturridge_private

privately__tom_sturridge56

tom_sturridge__

sturridge360

tomsturridge65

tomsturridge_1

sturridgetom6

tom_sturridge1

tomsturridge4real_

tom.sturridge96

tomsturridge54

officialtom_sturridge

tomsturridgepage

tom_sturridgepvt

These are the ones I know about so far, but if there are more that any of you find, please, like seriously, please, list them here. Let's help each other stay safe out there.

There is of course Facebook accounts and other social media platforms that have imposters of Tom on them, but Instagram seems to be the hotbed for them mostly.

If you know of any accounts or want to add anything, or even share screen shots of your texting conversations with these accounts that proves they are imposters, please do.

#tom sturridge #tomsturridge #the sandman #dream of the endless #lord morpheus #jake sweetbitter #imposters #impersonation #impersonator #catfisher #catfishing #scammers #scam #scam alert #scam likely #scams #phishing #be safe #Instagram

[definitely-not-cereal-og]

I just kinda had this idea, its just a little ficlet about Todd.  

(TW: Death mention, Cancer mention)

Todd settled down in a small town, nice, quiet, and (most importantly) very far away from where he grew up. While he tried his hardest to take his friends with him, he only managed to convince a few to disobey their parents wishes. He lived a quiet life, working a small dead-end job that earned him just enough to get by. It wasn’t very fulfilling, but it left him with enough time to work on his poetry and his books. Filling each notebook he bought with poems and stories, he slowly filled his bookshelves. You could never be truly alone when surrounded by memories. 

Knox and Charlie always kept tabs on him, making sure he was actually getting out and enjoying himself. Eventually they convinced Todd that he deserved to have someone in his life other than them. Todd decided to foster a kid. They helped him fill out the paperwork, find a new and higher paying job, and clean out his spare rooms for the biggest and best decision he had ever made. He ended up taking in a couple teens as the years went by, some of them aging out of the system while in his care. Free time was harder to come by, but he never once regretted helping these kids. Some of them kept in contact with Todd.

As the years went by, he became more isolated. Sure, his kids kept him busy with family occasions, holidays, weddings, and anniversaries, but he really never felt as wanted as he used to. He was content, but his lust life slowly started to leave as he just fell into routine. He never really did stop writing, that was the only thing that truly brought him joy towards the end. His kids, who had read many of his stories, tried to convince him to publish them, but he didn’t really want to. He agreed to publish one of his poetry books, a short one, mainly about plays and the last great act of life. It made some good sales but never really sold out. Todd was ok with that, he wasn’t really built for the attention fame brought anyways. Charlie bought it but refused to read it, despite how much Knox sang the praises of his favorite poem, Nuwanda, about a call from god. Todd finally agreed to let his kids publish as many of his books as they wanted, but only if they did so after he passed.

He was almost 70 when Charlie passed. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he didn’t want to know. Todd and Knox helped arrange the funeral. It was the first time since they graduated that he had seen the rest of the group. He wished he had more to talk about. Charlie’s daughter gave him Charlie’s old poems so Todd framed them and put them in his study, right next to his class photo and an old picture of Keating he had torn out of a yearbook and blown up. The study was starting to look more like a museum as the years went by. 

Two days after the funeral, his grandsons were born, Neil and Charlie. Todd hadn’t been as happy in decades as he was when he heard their names. He spent the next year reading to them and telling them stories of his life while in Welton, something he hadn’t talked about to anyone besides his books. They were babies, so they were happy to listen. Todd started to collect organize his poetry books by the age Neil and Charlie would be when he would give them to the boys. He wanted them to have something to help them get by when the going got tough. 

Knox moved in with Todd when he couldn’t live on his own anymore. His family had all moved away to live the most of their lives and he didn’t want to be the reason anyone stayed behind. Todd did his best to care for him, enjoying feeling useful again, but he was only 75 when Knox finally moved on. Most of Knox’s family flew in for the funeral, but still gathering a bigger crowd than Todd ever thought he would have.

It wasn’t long after that Todd was diagnosed with cancer, stage 4. It was hard to tell where it started at this point. He declined chemo, he was content with the life he had lived and he missed his friends. Electing to pass while surrounded by family, he happily spent the rest of his life writing letters. During his last week, he mailed out every one of them. One went to Pitts, Meeks, and Cameron to tell them he had missed them and wished them well. One was addressed to someone whom he hoped was family of Mr. Keating, thanking them for the best year of his life, and one went to Helton, simply holding a photograph of Todd and his friends from when they all went to school there and asking them to hang it in the hall with a plaque that said “carpe diem”. The last one he addressed to Neil Perry. Nobody knew what it said, as he asked it not to be opened. He wanted it to go with him, his last words to Neil. Todd had so much to tell him when he got to see him again. 

#Todd Anderson #Neil Perry #Todd x Neil #Anderperry #Todd Fic #Dead Poets Society #dead poets fanfic #dead poets society fic #im sorry #im crying while writing this so now you have to read it

[userastarion]

Where did you end up meeting them at?!

i went to the game awards 10-year anniversary concert at the hollywood bowl! this is how it happened:

it was intermission and we had box seats so i was weaving through rows of boxes trying to get out to the bathroom. then i got stuck behind these 3 people and i saw who they were talking to: ashley johnson. merle dandridge was behind her so i waved and gave her a lil ASL “i love you” (🤟🏻) bc i was too far to do anything else

so as ashley wound up getting up (and still talking to these women who have been chatting with her, who i didn’t want to interrupt), i like. put my hands on my cheeks when the made eye contact with me and i sort of waved so she knew i was there. she saw my ellie shirt and was like “nice shirt!” and then sort of made sure she planned to talk to me

as i was waiting for her, neil druckmann suddenly appeared next to me. like. literally beside me. less than 6 inches away bc we were in this tiny aisle. and he was like “i like your shirt” to which i responded “thanks! i like your game! can i take a picture with you?”

so then finally i get to sort of start talking to ashley. and i’m trying not to cry bc i almost immediately start on the edge of crying. she’s like “you’re gonna make me cry!”

and then troy fucking baker appears and asks her a question and then he says hi to me and i was like “hi. i’m freaking the fuck out right now.” and he said “i know, we all are” and some other little thing about the show or something that i forgot

but i talked to ashley about how much ellie means to me and how much i appreciated everything she gave to ellie and how much i identify with her and just thanked her. and she was so fucking nice, yall. like, really, really nice.

then i talked to troy and thanked him for joel and all he gave and i asked him for a photo

and then he and ashley were standing there in their crew and i thanked them again (“for letting me bother you,” but they both said it wasn’t a bother) and then i asked ashley for a hug in a burst of boldness and she said yes!!!! and she gave me the best fucking hug!!!! she really held tight it was wonderful i love her so MUCH

anyway then i finally got to leave. but that’s why when i said i met them i say it was accidental. bc i literally was just suddenly surrounded by them?? it was wild and surreal and i can’t believe i hugged ashley johnson while wearing my ellie shirt

#i’m so sad that all my pictures are such shit #but i was freaking out. fully shaking. like my entire body #i knew i had to say hi #but then there were 4 of them and i was like HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FUNCTION NOW #b:answered #anonymous #also omg i just realized cossette i never answered your message to brag about my friends!!!! #i read it and didn’t have time and then forgot #i gotta do that #b:personal

[christopherwatsonbooks]

It’s Okay to Like Dan Fogelberg

I wrote this piece in early January, 2008, a few weeks after Dan Fogelberg died. It took me that time to process my feelings, to determine what I was feeling in the wake of the unexpected news, and the largely indifferent media response. Like sorting through old photographs in a shoebox: unexamined for so long that you’d forgotten they were there, then the moment you raise and regard one the memories and feelings stab you so deeply, you wonder how you ever could have forgotten. I had to sit with those feelings awhile, allow the water to calm a bit before I could record what it reflected.

I published this on my now long-gone blog The Ninth House and it received dozens of positive comments, more than any other piece I’d posted there. Which of course was very nice – not only because of all those hits of dopamine, but also because of the affirmation that there were so many other souls who felt as I did. I post it here now, fourteen years later, in hopes it may find more.

When I first published this, the song links played clips I created. Now they'll take you to Spotify, which notoriously pays artists fractions of a cent per stream. It would sure be nice if everyone who pays this piece a visit would do right by Dan’s estate and purchase a track or an album from an online retailer.

I hope you enjoy the piece.

Chris

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while now. The holidays got in the way, but maybe that was for the best. It gave me time to really think about what I wanted to say.

And here it is.

It is okay to like Dan Fogelberg.

Go ahead. You can say it. Here, watch me:

I like Dan Fogelberg. Some of Dan Fogelberg’s music, I loved. And still do.

Dan Fogelberg died of prostate cancer on December 16th, 2007. He was 56. His most recent publicity photos show a good-looking guy, clean-shaven and smiling, the kind of guy who makes middle-aged moms blush and their daughters giggle.

Unfortunately, his reputation didn’t weather the years as well as he. For some folks of a certain age, Fogelberg’s name has become the go-to punch line for jokes about 1970s-era granola-munching, Chukka boot-wearing Sensitive Guys. Many critics loathed him. Rolling Stone’s review of 1979’s Phoenix is so contemptuous, you can damn near picture the author spitting on the album cover.

It’s less troublesome to dismiss Dan Fogelberg, as have most eulogists I’ve read, as that 1970s soft-rock singer-songwriter who scored a few hits than it is to set aside that fashionable prejudice and honestly consider his work. Or, more telling, his work’s popularity.

The fact that so many people evidently aren’t willing to do that – and worse, are dismissing Fogelberg as little more than a footnote to 1970s and early 80s pop – is really getting under my skin.

Fogelberg wasn’t a footnote. From his first album release, 1972’s Home Free, through 1981’s double album The Innocent Age, Fogelberg was regarded as an artist on par with the best of his peers. With Joe Walsh, he was one of the first acts signed by Irving Azoff, who soon went on to manage The Eagles, and he was considered for the spot in that band’s lineup that ultimately went to Walsh.

Reading the liner notes of Dan Fogelberg’s essential discography is like reading a who’s-who of mellow 1970s album rock. He attracted the best session players in the business. The Innocent Age features guest vocals from Emmylou Harris, Joni Mitchell, Richie Furay, Don Henley, Glenn Frey and Chris Hillman. If you had any of those artists’ works in your collection, you invariably owned at least one Dan Fogelberg album, too. Probably Souvenirs.

I played Souvenirs and other Fogelberg albums on the air as a rock radio DJ. It wasn’t at all unusual back in the day to hear him played alongside The Eagles, Poco, Jackson Browne, Linda Ronstadt, James Taylor, Joni Mitchell, CSNY, Jimmy Buffett, Boz Scaggs, Steely Dan, Neil Young and dozens more 1970s album rock radio core artists. You wouldn’t hear “Longer,” from Phoenix, but definitely “Part of the Plan,” “As the Raven Flies” and “There’s a Place in the World for a Gambler” from Souvenirs, maybe “Crow” from the underrated Captured Angel, definitely “The Power of Gold” from Dan’s Tim Weisberg collaboration Twin Sons of Different Mothers.

I liked to slide The Innocent Age out of its cover right around midnight. I was a college student in the early 80s, paying my way through school as the late-night jock on the town’s sole rock station, a pitiful low-wattage AM that nonetheless had a cult following. By midnight, I knew the hard partiers had already switched to the big regional FM; those who remained with me were studying or stoned, or both. That was my cue to take it way down: Robin Trower’s “Bridge of Sighs,” The Police’s “Walking on the Moon” next, “Hypnotized” from Fleetwood Mac after that, CSN’s “Dark Star” – you get the vibe. When I needed to stay mellow but bring in a little light, I’d inevitably reach for Dan.

The Innocent Age features Fogelberg’s biggest hits: “Same Old Lang Syne,” “Leader of the Band,” “Run for the Roses” and “Hard to Say.”  But one of my favorite tracks to play late at night was “Only the Heart May Know,” his tender duet with Emmylou Harris, sweet as a lullaby sent into the night. Not that I never played anything from Phoenix, “Longer” aside. When I did, it was usually my favorite track from that album, the final one, “Along the Road.” Sometimes I made that the final song I played before unplugging my headphones for the night, a final tired smile goodnight wish for my peeps to sleep on.

“Along the Road” may be my favorite Dan Fogelberg song. Definitely top three. Two. It’s pretty high up there.

Of the ten albums Dan Fogelberg recorded and released between 1972 and 1985, two are RIAA-certified gold, three are platinum, four are double platinum and one – his 1982 Greatest Hits compilation -- is triple platinum. That’s more than 15 million units sold, most of them back when they were still called LPs and you had to actually make the trip to a record store to buy one.

Clearly, somebody other than me likes Dan Fogelberg.

Okay, so maybe you don’t. Maybe you agree with the chorus of critics who labeled his lyrics mawkish, overwrought, treacly and clichéd.

Well, yeah. A lot of his lyrics were. I don’t think an objective listener can deny it, no matter how great a fan they may be.

I’ve always thought Dan Fogelberg on balance was a far better melodist than lyricist. His best melodies from those first six albums are gems of craftsmanship, made more impressive by the sheer number of just damned catchy, stick-in-your-brain songs he cranked out. “Part of the Plan” and “Crow” would sound right at home in Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young’s oeuvre, and the hook to “Wishing on the Moon” from Phoenix is every bit as vital as, say, that of The Eagles’ “Already Gone.” Gritty up the lyrics a little, put Glenn Frey on lead with Dan singing the high harmony (Jesus, that voice) and it could be the B-side hit the Eagles never recorded.

But pair those melodies with Dan’s sentimental pen…

I can’t listen to the title track of 1977’s Nether Lands without the word “gushing” coming to mind. Dan’s standing on a mountaintop, beholding all that is below and before him, his heart and soul singing with the joy of the vista and the moment over a bed of woodwinds, strings and French horns, lush as the soundtrack to Sunrise over The Majestic Rockies, in Technicolor.

It’s just so damn over the top. Like Julie Andrews with a flannel shirt and a beard.

But here’s the thing. Not two years before I first heard “Nether Lands,” I’d been a raw-boned 16-year-old lad standing on the Mogollon Rim, southwest of Winslow, Arizona in the foothills of the Rockies. Sleeping under the stars, kneeling to drink from icy-cold Christopher Creek, standing on a pine-framed ridge to behold thousands of square miles of God’s magnificent Earth spread below and before me.

And so when the good Mr. Fogelberg’s high sweet tenor sang over those soaring, shameless orchestral glissandos, my heart sang with him. Because I had been there, and so knew that he had gotten it exactly and absolutely right.

And there it is. The key to Dan Fogelberg’s popularity, and the source of his most frequent criticisms.

Maybe if he’d thrown in some irony, a little cynicism to go with the poignancy. Maybe if he’d invoked whiskey and cigarettes when his woman done left him, rather than cottonwood trees in autumn. Maybe if he’d taken his hand off his heart and grabbed his crotch a bit more. Or at all.

But that wasn’t his thing. It’s clearly not where Dan lived, or what he believed. Not enough to want to write about it, at any rate.

I imagine the Dan Fogelberg who wrote and recorded those wonderful albums as a sweet guy, a gentle soul who recognized the transience of life and so chose to celebrate its moments of sweetness, chose sentiment over cynicism or resentment, even in life’s most heartrending moments. After you were done cursing and getting drunk and assigning blame, Dan’s the guy you’d eventually want sitting across the table from you over coffee or a beer. He’d listen and nod and smile, and you’d know he understood. He’d put it all into perspective for you. He wouldn’t try to make you feel better, but you’d come away knowing you weren’t alone, and that would make you feel better. It made the ache more tolerable, and enabled you to look forward once more.

Short of sitting across that table, Dan’s music on the stereo and a good bottle of wine isn’t a bad substitute. Many times, when my heart and soul ached, for many reasons, it’s what helped me.

I left Dan Fogelberg behind. I never developed a taste for his post-Innocent Age work, and my own music tastes changed as life changed me, carrying me on passing years from Dan and his peers to my current favorites. But I still carry a big torch for those days, and with the advent of iTunes, Rhapsody and the rest have found myself seeking out the music of my youth, reveling in sentimental fondness as I rediscover those songs, and the memories they awaken.

And so, I shouldn’t be surprised that I find myself sentimental over Dan Fogelberg’s death. And so irritated that it has gone so largely unremarked.

Maybe it’s because I’m older now, at that age when so many of those who composed and played the soundtrack to my youth are leaving us, making memories of that time more poignant. Maybe it’s that, because Dan’s music meant something to me, seeing his music dismissed makes me feel as if my youth and feelings are likewise being dismissed.

I imagine it’s all of that.

But also, I’m just plain pissed off at the critical pretentiousness that continues to dismiss Dan Fogelberg even in death, and the ease with which so many people mock him, for no other reason than that. Because it’s easy.

You don’t like his music? That’s fine. If you’ve given his best stuff a sincere listen and it’s not your cup of tea, then thanks for stopping by.

But if you haven’t? Listen to the clips I’ve included here. If you’re intrigued, spend a few bucks and download some tracks online. Or ask a friend, or maybe their granola-munching parents, if they’ve got some Dan Fogelberg you can borrow.

But be warned. You’ve got to kick the furniture out of the way and invite Dan in, if you’re going to appreciate him at all. You’ve got to be willing to let him nail you right smack-dab in your squishy place.

And if you find you like him – well, of course it’s okay. It’s always been okay. You don’t need my permission, or anyone’s. With anything in life, it’s never about what others say. It’s always about what you feel.

A few days after his death, longtime friend Jackson Browne called Dan Fogelberg “an angel.” Writing about him now, listening to him now, having rediscovered him now after all these years, I don’t feel inclined to disagree.

Rest in peace, Dan. And thanks.

#dan fogelberg

[survey--s]

642.

What is the color of the last towel you used? Like a sea green type colour.

Are you listening to music right now? If so, whatcha listening to? The Winner Takes it All by Meryl Streep.

Would you rather have a hippo or rhino dropped on you? I mean, I'd be dead either way lol.

Do you walk a lot? I mean, it's my job to walk dogs so yes, lol. I'm normally walking for 4-5 hours a day (during the week, anyway). Weekends are much lazier.

If you’re still in school, what number is your locker? What color is it? I haven't been in school for over a decade lol. My locker was dark blue, though I don't remember the number.

Do you have any super silly nicknames? Yep.

Have you ever heard of the Japanese snack Yan Yan? Nope. You can't really get many Japanese snacks here which is a shame as they all look amazing, haha.

Do you watch sports? Which ones, if any? Not really. Sometimes I watch Wimbledon but that's about it.

Do you enjoy the great outdoors? I do as long as the weather is good. I'm not one of those people who will go out in all weathers just to get outside, lol.

Do you like cream soda? No, it's too sweet and leaves a funny aftertaste.

Is there anyone who hates you? Probably.

What color is your cell phone? Blue and black. How does your hair look right now? It's just tied up in a messy bun.

Are you on any medications? No.

What is the last piece of mail you received? How about e-mail? Mail was some photos I ordered for work, and e-mail-wise, it was just a confirmation that my order of cat litter had been sent out, lol.

Who is your 15th contact in your phone? I have no idea, my phone is on the side charging.

Name something you like about school. Leaving at the end of the day.

Do you eat meat, or are you a vegetarian? I eat meat.

Have you ever cried in front of a teacher? Yes.

Have you ever cried BECAUSE of a teacher? Yes, that too.

Do you do a :) or a (:? Both ways, depending on my mood. Normally :) though.

Do you have a facebook? Do you go on it often, if you do? Yes, and daily.

What is the closest gas station to you? There's one about a quarter of a mile up the road.

Who did you last see in concert? I don't remember, honestly.

What grade are you in? I left school 16 years ago.

Granny smith or delicious red apples? The only apples I really like are Pink Ladies but even then I don't really eat them very much.

If you could meet one famous person, who would it be? How come? Neil Gaiman, just because he's awesome.

Are paper clips fun to play with? They were when I was a kid, sure.

Can you speak any other language? French and some German.

Do you prefer mechanical pencils or regular pencils? Regular ones.

Do you have a job? What’s your job? Yeah, I run my own pet care business.

Do you take advil, tylenol, or ibuprofen? Ibuprofen or paracetamol.

Why is the sky blue? Oh, I really can't be bothered to look that up lol.

Do you enjoy classic rock? If I'm in the right mood, sure.

Have you ever heard of the band Citizen Cope? If not, look them up, they’re really good. I have but I've never heard their music and I'm not going to look it up now.

Is your alarm clock set right now? No, but it will be before I go to bed.

What kind of music do you listen to the most? It depends - lately it's been country.

Are you itchy right now? No. Oh, actually, I am now you've mentioned it lol.

Do you like pine trees, or do think the sap is too annoying? I mean, they're nice enough - they do smell nice.

Mountains or beach? I'm lucky enough to have both within five minutes of my house.

What is the closest purple object to you? A jumper.

Are your walls blank or covered with pictures/posters? They're mostly blank but there are a couple of paintings up.

Have you ever tried veggie burgers? Yeah, loads of times.

Do you have anything on your wrists? Nope.

Where do you see yourself in 10 years? I don't really think that far in advance.

Do you have a mirror in the room you are in? Yeah, there's one above the dresser.

Have you ever had corn nuts? I have no idea what those are.

Do you smoke? I don’t.

#survey #surveys

[octobersymphony]

depeche mode and pet shop boys influencing each other

#depeche mode #pet shop boys #idk i think it's very cute the little circular thing here! enjoy the silence being kind of psb-influenced and then #psb takes that same song as an influence for one of theirs! #the song neil is talking about in the screenshot btw is the end of the world #i recently read literally and they bring up depeche mode so many times in that book it's kinda fun - one moment i particularly liked was #when they were all taking pictures and neil takes some photo and is like 'this looks like it could be the sleeve for a depeche mode album #called the technological world' #like !!!!!!!!!!!!! that's so funny i love that that's his thought process

[magniloquent-raven]

billy's six years old, eating ice cream too slowly to stop it from dripping down his arm in sticky rivulets. he's sitting quietly next to his father on a bench outside some fancy department store while his mother takes her time picking out bracelets to cover her bruises.

a passing stranger smiles at him when neil asks her for napkins. she's tall. billy doesn't like it when strangers are tall. looming over you with their gross nose hairs. he frowns at her, but her smile brightens. "aw, what a little man! he looks just like you, mister. bet he'll be big and strong too."

he frowns harder. it's a relief when she walks away.

--

billy's ten years old, rubbing his fingers though his new haircut. it's stubbly on the sides and he doesn't like it. he can't move it around like he wants to, it just...stays there. all prickly. neil insisted on the haircut. had to make billy presentable before they went to visit his parents.

billy would be excited about seeing his nana, but he stopped wanting to when neil told him it meant cleaning him up first.

he scowls so hard it hurts when his grandpa claps him on the shoulder. "you look just like your father at that age," he chuckles.

it's a miserable visit. he's moody the whole time. it costs him his dinner privileges and he gets a smack the second they're out the door, but he doesn't care.

--

he's fourteen when he meets susan for the first time, and he hates her immediately.

they have a sit-down dinner at some shitty restaurant. she orders a salad. she barely speaks. she picks at the checkered table cloth and lets neil brag about work and smiles when it's appropriate and billy hates her.

neil leaves them alone when he goes to pick up the cheque and susan sits in silence, patting her frizzy hair.

until she looks up at him, something small and soft in her expression that billy shrinks away from. "you have his eyes, you know," she says, like it's a peace offering.

cold eyes. arctic ice at midday, bright but dangerous.

he glares at her. "i know."

--

he's seventeen when max decides she's had enough of his shit. he'd almost be proud of her if he wasn't so pissed.

his throbbing temple doesn't help. it'll bruise, he's sure. but he doesn't remember what he hit his head on. dresser, maybe. corner of a shelf. who's to say.

max glares at him, an ice pack in hand. "what did you do this time?"

"nothing. he's an asshole."

"so are you."

--

billy's twenty and he lives on his own now. rents a tiny apartment above the local cafe. it's barely big enough for the couch he nearly busted his stitches dragging in here, but that couch is rarely empty anyways. no one seems to mind sleeping in a room that smells like burnt coffee with just enough space not to bump their elbows against a wall.

max. steve. el. they take turns. if billy didn't know any better he'd think they were babysitting him.

it's steve's turn tonight. they usually just watch a movie, but max brought a box of stuff earlier that day that billy hasn't had the courage to open yet, and he'll never admit it but having steve there makes him feel braver.

so they rummage through old report cards and pictures of people billy doesn't remember. until--

"hey, is this your mom? she's a looker, damn." a pause. "you look just like her."

steve glances between billy's stricken face and the worn photo in his hand, blinking, expectant. his expression morphs into one of concern when he notices the tears in billy's eyes. his hand is soft. warm. hesitant as he pats billy's shoulder, and careful as he moves his palm to rest against the side of billy's neck, thumb brushing the underside of his jaw.

billy can't help but crumble a little. lean into the touch. embarrassment twists in his chest, a sickly pressure on his lungs, but steve's knee is brushing his and his fingertips are toying with billy's curls and his eyes are gentle. understanding.

and he thinks about sunlight. the way the ocean glows under it, and the way his mother's eyes always seemed warm like that. crinkled at the corners, glittering with emotion.

she was pretty, el had said. she wasn't the first person to say it, just the first person in a long time. and now...

"thanks," he says quietly.

~~tag list @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful 💕💕~~

#billy hargrove #harringrove #stranger things #a raven's writing desk #i am v tired and this idea would not let me sleep #but now i'm freeeeeeeeeeeee #good night yall

[caravelmp3]

UNDER THE CANYON MOON

pairing: josh kiszka x female!reader warning(s): mostly fluff, just brief mentions of alcohol and sex  word(s): 2k note: hi hi hi !! this is just a little something i wrote up the last couple of days with the inspiration of light my love, canyon moon by harry styles, and the interview where josh talked about road-tripping the u.s. last summer <3 i don’t write one shots often but let me know what you all think bc i might shuffle some more out soon lol. hope you all enjoy !! :) 

The Los Angeles sun was hot, beating down onto the city basking in its late-summer hues. You parked your car on the street in Silver Lake and carried a bag of food and drink tray to the door of a recording studio, more than prepared to be swarmed by hungry boys who had been cooped up in the studio since five a.m. on the dot that morning. They had a breakthrough the night before with a new song, and after getting home and going to bed for a few hours, the creative juices started flowing again and they were back in the booth. 

A windchime on the door sang as you pulled the door open and walked inside, greeting their manager who was at a table by the door. 

“The boys here?” 

“Down the hall,” he nodded, pointing a finger in the direction of the hallway. “They’re more rowdy than usual so be prepared,” 

You laughed and turned down the hall, walking towards the studio. The walls were decorated with memorabilia of rock and roll greats and record plaques, and among them, you spotted a picture of the four boys with their Grammy award. It seemed like time had passed so quickly. They won the award for the first album and they were already working on their third, shooting them further into stardom. 

“Coffee’s here!” You shouted in a really bad New England accent when you noticed the recording light was flipped off above the door. 

You stepped into the room to a chorus of cheers and “thank god you're here”’s that made you laugh while sitting the food and drinks down on the table and they all rushed over. You handed out the specific orders and pointed to which drinks was theirs when they got handsy and tried to grab everything from her out of both excitement and some desperation for caffeine. 

“Our savior,” Jake said, reaching out and grabbing your shoulders to give them a gentle shake before taking the coffee you were holding out to him, and then you handed Danny’s to him, too. 

“Just the coffee girl here,” 

“Well, you’re a little bit more than that,” Josh said, walking over to the table to grab his full cup. 

You pressed a hand against the table, leaning over to him. “Just a little?” 

“A little bit,” he shot you a wink before swiftly pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

You were more than just a “little more” than the coffee girl, you were typically their designated drunk driver, the one who took all of their candid photos, the mediator in times of need, and well, the girlfriend of the lead singer, too. 

Everyone in the studio took their food and drinks and scattered among the seating area in a break from recording. Instead of one tiny room with all of them cramped together, they had a wide open space with booths for the different instruments and bean bag chairs and big comfy, velvet sofas, and there was dim lighting with deep toned rugs that gave off the vibe of a more relaxed feel rather than the fluorescent-light, tiled-floor feeling that made them feel rushed and confined by rules they didn’t set themselves. 

You liked the studio, too, and often took naps on the sofa while listening to them play instruments individually in the recording booths and while they were writing. One night they had found you at two a.m., bundled up with a blanket on the bean bag chair after they spent the night writing in the front room on the piano, but it wasn’t the first time as you often napped in their Nashville recording offices, too. 

“You guys been busy today?” You asked jokingly while lowering onto the sofa armrest, receiving nothing but glares shot in your direction. “Okay, okay, touchy subject,” 

With a mouthful of bread, Sam pointed to Josh, “Josh finished a song, didn’t you?” He was grinning. 

You hummed in joy and surprise, grabbing Josh’s knee as he sat next to you. “Really?” 

It had been a rough few days for all of them as they tried to shuffle out a few more additions to the new album. It felt incomplete with something missing, but they couldn’t quite put their finger on what it was exactly, so they attempted to bring back and revamp old songs, write and record new ones, but nothing seemed to stick, until now. 

“Yeah, wanted to wait and show you later, but someone can’t keep his trap shut.” Josh said, pretending to be serious before cracking a smile and taking a sip of his coffee. “Just wanted it to be a surprise,” 

“Well it can still be a surprise, I’m surprised now,” you said. “Can I hear it? Or read what you got?” 

Josh nodded and stood, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him. There was a little recording room fit with a piano inside, his writing journal placed on the music stand where he had scribbled notes and keys and melodies in pen. He picked it up and handed it to you. 

“Nothing seemed to click until last night, when I started putting it together.” He said. 

“Is that why you wouldn’t tell me what it was when you all got back to the house?” 

Josh shrugged, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, yeah, I wanted it to be special when you first heard it.”

You sat the coffee cup down onto the floor while lowering into the small chair in the corner, holding the journal like it was the most delicate piece of art in the world. In silence, while Josh watched on anxiously, you read the words he had splayed across the blank page. 

     Can you light my love?      Flames glowing bright as the sun      Deeper than oceans you run      Watch as our world has begun 

     Your mind is a stream of colors      Extending beyond our sky      A land of infinite wonders      A billion lightyears from here now

You felt your throat tighten, tears tempted your eyes. 

It was a love song. 

“Josh-” 

“Oh god you hate it don’t you, you dread it, despise it,” 

“Oh shut up, I’m in tears right now, you know I love it.” You looked up at him with a smile and a sniffle. 

His words across the page were sloppy, some cursive, written in different pens of different colors, some lines crossed and scribbled out, others underlined. 

“Your mind is something I will never fully understand.” You told him as he sat down on the chair next to you. “How the fuck did you come up with this-” 

“I was thinking about our trip out here, the week we spent driving out and all of the stuff we did… and how I think I fell more in love with you.” His voice softened. 

You reached out, placing your arm on his shoulder, fingers playing with his curls. “I can’t put it into words how much I love it, how much I love you,” you said, “and you make me sound so lovely when in reality I know I was a pain in the ass that entire trip.” 

“Yeah, but my pain in the ass,” he kissed the inside of your arm. 

Two weeks before the boys left Nashville to head to Los Angeles, Josh called you at midnight with an idea in mind – the two of you renting a camper to drive out to L.A., falling into all of the tourist traps along the way and stopping in random small towns to sleep while exploring the in between, which would definitely beat the boring four-hour flight. And you, half asleep and across the country, agreed. 

It would be fun. Right? 

And it was. Every time someone asked how it went, you called it “the most magical week of my life.” 

While the others waited behind for their flights the next week, you and Josh set off from Nashville, heading west with only the destination in mind and a trusty map in hand. Everything else just came to you both. 

The first stop was three hours in the trip, in Memphis. You and Josh roamed Graceland on Elvis Presley Boulevard and had lunch near Sun Studio before taking in the mementos and relics at the Blues Hall of Fame where Josh talked your ear off, rattling off more details about each band and singer than was on the info-cards on the wall. 

Then it was two hours to Little Rock, falling asleep in the back of the camper after a take-out dinner outside of a random supermarket. Sitting in lawn chairs in the middle of a parking lot, you held Josh’s hand under a blanket and watched the pink sunrise over the hills, and then it was back on the road again. 

From Oklahoma City to Amarillo, you fiddled with the map when Josh got lost after a wrong turn in a small town where he insisted on seeing the giant 66-foot LED soda bottle sculpture, and in the middle of northern Texas, he made it up to you by cooking your favorite dinner. You thanked him in a quiet whisper as you crawled into the bed with him that night, sliding under the covers where he greeted you with warm hands and kisses against your neck that made you squeal with the tickle of his mustache and he grinned against your lips. 

Josh got to choose the music all the way through New Mexico – Neil Young and Crazy Horse to John Denver’s Thank God I’m A Country Boy, and you were only able to squeeze in Joan Baez every hour when you stopped to stretch your legs on the side of the road, belting the words to him while he laughed at your voice cracks. 

And after you both pitched the tent in the Petrified Forest in Arizona, Josh hummed the tune to some new song while you two sat under the midnight stars in the canyon with a roaring fire, his arm around you, his sweatshirt draped over your shoulders. When he tried to start telling you a scary story after you heard a weird noise outside the tent, you blindly hit him in the dark and accidentally hit his nose, causing you both to burst into laughter after the initial panic left. He laughed loudly into your shoulder as you held his face in shock, catching the scent of your lavender lotion, and his body relaxed when the laughter died down, feeling so at peace in his life with you there. 

It was the tail end of the trip, but the excitement hadn’t died down yet. After showers in the camper in the middle-of-nowhere-Arizona and five hours west, you and Josh found a bar outside of Las Vegas that resembled Coyote Ugly, so you both had a round of tequila sodas and margaritas before walking around the small town that evening and sleeping off the tipsy-headaches in the air conditioning. On top of the covers, you looked at Josh napping in the sunshine, cheeks flushed red, curls poofy from the wind, and you felt your heart grow in your chest before falling asleep next to him. 

And then came Los Angeles, the final stop, the dreaded one. But you and Josh didn’t tell anyone that either of you were sad to be back with them in L.A. when they asked, and instead, you two smiled and hugged everyone after piling out of the camper in the drive-way of the Silver Lake house. 

Cleaning out the camper, tossing cheesy novelty t-shirts at each other and laughing at how many socks you two managed to lose along the way and how many bug bites were added, watching the developed clips Josh had filmed of scenes in the desert and you asleep in the passenger seat, you both were nostalgic about a trip that just ended. 

It was so easy, so freeing to just be together on the road, with only the destination in mind. It revealed a part of them that the other didn’t see often, like your tendencies to get your lefts and rights mixed up while giving directions, and Josh’s equally awful sense of direction didn’t exactly pair with the fact that he was a maniac while driving in the first place. 

But those parts were just added to the long list of why you and him loved each other in the first place. So you became the designated driver after Amarillo and Josh stuck to telling you “left or right” for the rest of the time. It was a compromise, another reason why you two worked so well together. 

It was a form of love in itself. 

“We’ll have to drive all the way back to Nashville then, so you can write more songs about me.” You teased. 

Josh rolled his eyes but cracked into a grin a second later. “Let’s not get too carried away,” but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t always mentally reliving the night under the canyon moon.

#gvf imagine #greta van fleet imagine #gvf #gvf one shot #greta van fleet one shot #gvf fanfic #greta van fleet fanfic #josh kiszka imagine #josh kiszka one shot #josh kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet

[accio-victuuri]

BoXiao & the Moon. 🌖

Inspired by the Moon connection that we had, here’s some more CPN.

• GG, our resident photographer loves taking photos of the moon as evidenced here. He also likes to reference it in his art, along with space. The infamous boy with a light ( moon ) is an old candy that is loved by BXGs.

This ties in with the fake rumor that Web said he wanted to take a picture of the Moon for GG but it wouldn’t come out.

• The official name listed for GG’s company is “Xiamen Midsummer Moon Culture Media Co., Ltd.”

• Here is a much more recent and subtle candy that we noticed. In his Man Han noodles Ad where he was playing the Guqin, it started with him looking out the window— admiring the Moon. This scene is similar to LWJ’s first appearance in the Untamed. He was looking out the night sky. ( moon not pictured)

• At the recent YueHua Family Concert, Web wore a short from My Own Private Planet brand. The print is a Moon.

• The CPN that inspired this post. It all started when Web was spotted wearing a special watch. With the date 10.05. More explanation here. Then a bts video of GG ‘s douyin post was shared. In it, he was seen with a moon landing related phonecase. People are pointing out that Neil Armstrong’s birthday is 8.5.

One thing to also remember is this is not the first time he had a moon related phone case. The model he used before had a pair.

note: the watch CPN is not yet verified. We haven’t seen it again. We have not seen it clearly.

• Something we missed in this TTXS episode. BXGs were too busy looking at the Little Prince and Iron Man decor— turns out, there are figures of astronauts/ moon.

• Back in July 2019, Web posted about his own skateboard clothing brand M SB. What does the M stand for? Is it under an already existing company?

Well, if you go further back, Web had a good relationship with something called INNERSECT. It’s The largest street culture convention in China. They have been inviting and collaborating w/ him since 2017. They even invited Web in their event to watch ASAP Rocky perform ( Shanghai).

So, A day after Web’s bday in 2018, they posted a picture of him with Moon Emojis.

A few months later, they posted about a brand called MOONBACK. same M* as Web’s in 2019. Just a different font. The description for the brand is as follows: The back of the moon is a collection of dreams and expression of creative potential

A BXG also noticed that if you flip the SB it looks similar to his recent 85 logo.

• Finally some next level science stuff. lol. The Moon phases on the dates they were born complement each other 100591 and 080597. OP does not allow transportation of the details so you can view it here. Even the universe is saying SZD.

That’s it! Enjoy all the coincidence ❤️💛💚

sources : one | two | three | four | five

#bjyx #yizhan