date a boy who’s in the fbi. date a boy who has a boston accent. date a boy who’s anti-social. date a boy who’s sympathetic. date a boy who wears a pair of futuristic sunglasses. date a boy who seems to spend most of his time getting the shit kicked outta him. date norman jayden.
setting: modern, non-magical, reality/film star au; based on this
word count: 4,654 words
(7:22 am) Did you see
the casting news yet? For Boy Who Lived?
(8:15 am) fuck off its
(8:16 am) Ronald.
(8:17 am) unless they
chose to go with an actual fucking cgi flamingo i dont give a shit right now
and it can wait until tomorrow
(8:19 am) It really
can’t. Harry’s going to fire you when he finds out.
(8:19 am) ??????? get
ur blasphemous ass back to church no he’s not
(8:20 am) Yes, he is.
It was YOUR idea to scrap the chemistry test.
(8:23 am) omg what is
ur DAMAGE chemistry tests r dumb af harry hates them
(8:24 am) And sometimes
you have to act as his AGENT, not his best friend, and advise him to do the
things he hates, Ronald. Like chemistry tests.
(8:25 am) thx for the
fortune cookie fun fact i’ll pass it on to harry’s latest oscar nom ok
(8:29 am) Check
Variety. They reported on the casting this morning. There was a “leak” at the
(8:32 am) harrys gonna
fucking fire me ur right
Hollywood star tapped for female lead in Paramount’s Boy Who Lived
October 11, 2016. Los
Well, it’s official.
Seemingly permanent tabloid staple Pansy Parkinson (Hurricane Hollywood; The Hottie and the
Nottie), better known for her outrageous late-night party antics than she
is for her acting prowess, has been cast as Harry Potter’s (Under the Stairs) on-screen love interest for the futuristic
dystopian thriller, Boy Who Lived,
slated for release by Paramount sometime in Summer 2018. While Parkinson has
been persistently vocal about her desire to make the transition from her
Cristal throne in Vegas to the slightly more respectable silver screen, this
will be her first role in a major motion picture.
Part of being a superhero was getting used to things you never thought you would. Whether that meant coming to terms with a blue alien scarab latching itself onto your back, or accepting that being able to fly is completely mundane among your friends. Of course, there were somethings that were easier to accept as a new, everyday occurrence than others. While Jaime had a hunch that he would never truly get used to Khaji Da’s voice echoing through his head, often at the most inopportune times, or the complete exhaustion that would fill his body after a particularly taxing fight, he had a feeling that he could get used to his current situation.
Somewhere along the lines, really, Jaime couldn’t be sure when, it became normal after late-night missions for Bart to follow his best friend home. The original excuse given was that he didn’t want to wake the Garrick’s up so late at night, primarily citing the old floorboards of the house they lived in. In effect, Jaime hadn’t even questioned it when an almost listless Bart Allen had followed him through a Zeta-tube, and eventually after feeling like they were both trudging along, to his family’s house in El Paso just past one in the morning.
That was what brought Jaime to his current position. He was flopped on his bed, laying on his back with a pillow underneath him to cushion around the scarab. It was his fourth night in a row wearing the same pajamas, a pair of plaid flannel pants and an old tank top, but the hispanic boy couldn’t bring himself to care. His feet stuck out from the end of the blanket so that he wouldn’t overheat during the night. He had scooted over as far to the side of the mattress as he could comfortably. His right shoulder stuck to the smooth painted surface of his bedroom wall, while his left arm came up to hide his eyes from the light of his nightstand. He didn’t bother looking when he felt the other side of the mattress dipped, or when he heard the click of the lamp being turned off. There was some rustling as blankets shifted. It wasn’t until there was a light tap on the curve of his wrist that Jaime let out a breath through his nose, and let his left arm fall down to the sheets.
The hairs on Jaime’s arm prickled when a smaller hand than his own stroked down it, using the sense of touch as a guide in the now dark room. The weight of another body soon became flush against his side. A second head joined the edge of his pillow. Jaime could feel the floppy locks of Bart’s auburn hair tickle at the curve of his shoulder.
Jaime reached with his right hand to the opposite corner of his blanket, lifting the edge up and pulling it so that he could share the fluffy cloth with the younger teen. Bart wiggled under the newfound warmth, muttering something about how soft it was under his breath. Pale hands pulled at Jaime’s arm, until the older boy forced himself to sit up just enough to shift more toward the center of the mattress. He adjusted the cushion wedged under his back to make the presence of the scarab more comfortable. Once he was laying back down, Jaime dug his arm underneath the pillow his head fell onto. It was an open invitation to the young speedster to move closer, which Bart happily complied to. The younger’s body pressed into the older’s. Both of Bart’s arms found their way across Jaime’s chest, and rested in place, while one leg crossed over to interlock between his partner’s.
Whenever Bart spent the night, there was an eighty percent chance that the boy would need clothes to sleep in. Tonight was one of those nights. The thirteen year old wore a borrowed pair of polka dot boxers, and the same oversized tee shirt he used every time he came over. Warmth radiated off the smaller body like a personal space heater.
One of Bart’s hands slid up Jaime’s chest and gripped his right shoulder, not hard, but firm, using just a little bit of leverage to pull himself up so that he could rest his chin into the juncture of Jaime’s left shoulder. At this point, Jaime was just acting on instinct. His right hand came up to cradle one of Bart’s wrists, his free arm pulled itself out from underneath the pair’s shared pillow to wrap around the smaller body pressed against him, and rest on top of the other’s hip. In response, Bart seemed to nuzzle his face more into the column of his teammate’s neck. The tip of his nose pressed just under the bend of Jaime’s jaw. His breath escaped in a soft sigh, fanning over dark skin as both superheroes relaxed into the feeling of the other.
Both teenaged boys held onto each other, not quite lulling off to sleep, but neither saying anything to disrupt to peace that filled the room. Thankfully, the scarab was capable of reading the mood enough to stay silent as well. Although, maybe even an alien bug needs to sleep rest on occasion.
Locks of chestnut hair tickled against Jaime’s skin in time with Bart’s breathing. Perhaps it was involuntary, but Jaime found himself squeezing the smaller body just a little. There was a small sound from Bart, as though he were chuckling to himself, before he began to wiggle his toes just a little. One of the younger teen’s hands traveled up to thread fingers into the short hairs on the back of Jaime’s neck. Fingernails scratched lightly at the new area before laying flat. Long, well-muscled legs tightened around a thin, lanky one.
To call it comfortable was an understatement. There were very few experiences so indulgent as feeling his and Bart’s limbs wrapped around one another. Jaime always felt every muscle in his body relax when they got like this.
Jaime had found early on in their friendship just how much the futuristic boy craved physical contact. Little things like high-fives, and the occasional pat on the shoulder had been plenty at first. But as the two had become closer, the distance between them quite literally disappeared. While they usually kept a respectable amount of space between them in public, the closed space of a quiet room allowed for the perfect amount of privacy. There was a visible difference in Bart’s behavior when the guy just needed a good hug. The brunette would get restless, and his usual cheerful attitude would be replaced by a nearly miserable pout. If all it took was a quick cuddle to pull Bart out of a funk, then Jaime wasn’t about to complain. After a rough mission, when they were both pretty banged up and exhausted, it could do wonders for both of them. It was getting to the point where it was a hard to pinpoint exactly what their relationship was; if they could still call each other friends, or if they had ventured just a bit too far towards something else entirely. But it was still too early to be asking those questions. For now, Jaime just relished in the warmth cradled against him, the limbs intertwined with his, and the heaviness of both bodies as exhaustion began to take over. Yeah. He could get used to this.
I begged Mr. Ryan to hand Fontaine Futuristics over to Atlas’ boys as a peace offering, but the stupid sod won’t listen to reason. ‘Stead he’s just splicing his mob up, giving them more and tougher Plasmids. There’s an arms race on here in Rapture, but it’s not about who can build the best guns and the biggest bombs. It’s about who can become less of a man and more of a monster…
Dipper Pines is a cabin boy with no crew and is looking for adventure on the high seas like his father. But nothing prepared him for an adventure quite like this when he meets the notorious Captain Bill Cipher. With his journal in hand, Dipper embarks on a journey he will never forget.
Rated: T (For extensive language in later chapters)