Dearest Cecilia, the story can resume. The one I had been planning on that evening walk. I can become again the man who once crossed the surrey park at dusk, in my best suit, swaggering on the promise of life. The man who, with the clarity of passion, made love to you in the library. The story can resume. I will return.                                                                                                    Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame.

anonymous asked:

Imagine Evan and Luke are just chilling at Luke's one day, and Evan understands that Jonathan left town because of hiding his face but respects his privacy. Then while walking home from an event, Evan and Luke are attacked by people and Luke fires off one text before attempting to fight back, but there are like 30 of them. After getting beat pretty bad (but getting some KO's in) they're just backed into a corner. Then a cute 'stranger' jumps in and saves the day, who is also buddies with Luke :P

The only reason Evan had flown down from the convention in Boston to Luke’s place in North Carolina, was because he was giving him his War Machine suit, the one that looked like Iron Man but was black and grey. How could he say no to that? It was awesome. But he had to make sure he could even wear it before he took it off his hands. Besides, he had plenty of time to spare and he’d never been to North Carolina.

He had to admit, it was beautiful how the snow fell and clung to the trees making it look almost like a fairy tale. Secretly he hoped that if he came down, that Delirious would pay him a visit while he was there. But he didn’t. Luke got off the phone with the man and shook his head with a knowing grin.

“I’m sorry, man. With Jonathan, you have to give him like five months in advance for anything so he can mentally prepare himself. With you, you’d have to give him an entire year.” Luke giggled. “He’s scared to meet you but doesn’t want to admit it.”

Evan grinned, “It’s okay, I understand. I didn’t expect him to. I know he’s still undecided, but I’ll wait for him.”

“That’s good. It might be a while.” Luke squeezed his shoulder in apology. “There’s a concert going on just a few blocks down, you want to check it out while you’re here so we aren’t just chilling on the couch all night?”

“Yeah, that sounds fun. Let’s go.” Evan pulled his jacket on and walked with Luke down a few streets where there was music beating in the air and in their chests the closer they got.

Evan enjoyed himself, drank a few beers, shared good stories with Luke and some of his friends that showed up as well. The music was nice and it made him want to play. He couldn’t help but let his eyes scan the crowd continuously for a face he didn’t know, his eyes meeting a handful of stranger’s who stared back before looking away. But Delirious wouldn’t be there anyway, he wouldn’t even risk it.

Evan hid his disappointment well and they began walking back to Luke’s house with a buzz running through their heads, giggling at nothing in particular.

“Well, this isn’t gonna turn out pretty.” Luke mumbled after he had looked behind them. He pulled his phone out, sending a text off to someone as a group of angry, loud footsteps approached them from behind under the street lights.

Luke looked over at him, “I’m sorry, Evan. I didn’t think these assholes would have the nerve to start shit tonight.”

Evan snickered and shrugged, “I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m buzzed, and I haven’t been in a fight in so long. So let’s go.”

They stopped and turned, meeting the faces of too many men for them to fight alone, but they’d take their chances. Luke cleared his throat trying to stall them. “So, Dev. What do you and your posse want this time?”

The tall dark headed guy sneered, “The usual. We want that little faggot friend of yours to show his face again so I can knock his teeth into his head.”

Luke rolled his eyes, “That was three years ago, Devin. Jonathan didn’t turn your brother gay. He was always gay and just didn’t tell you until he started dating a dude. You fucking idiot.”

There were no more words exchanged, just heated eye contact before Devin and his gang of lunatics rushed at them. Evan was all of a sudden filled with a flurry of emotions. One was surprise at the fact that Jonathan was gay, because he played off being straight so well. The other was anger. He was fucking livid at the notion that these guys were here to beat the shit out of Jonathan, but luckily he wasn’t here. That alone had Evan determined to win the fight, even if they didn’t stand a chance against all of them.

Luke busted four lips, Evan six noses but they were still coming, wearing them down and Evan was prepared for the fist that met his face. That didn’t mean that it hurt any less. Just as they were starting to overwhelm them and the outcome wasn’t looking good a shout rang out in the night.

“Hey, you pansy ass bitch!” A familiar voice yelled and everyone stopped to look back. There was a guy, tall, pierced and angry with a bat in his hand. He pointed a finger at Devin and then beckoned him with it. “Come at me mother fucker.”

Four more people appeared behind him, including Devin’s brother. Devin’s grin fell and he fumed, “I’m not fighting my brother, you dick!”

“Well he wants to fight you, you homophobic asshole.” The guy said and Devin ran at him.

The man dropped the bat and lunged at Devin’s stomach when he got close and knocked the breath out of him. They hit the ground and he climbed on top of him. His friends held the gang back while the two fought on the pavement. He had Devin by the throat, “If you ever go after my friends again, I’ll put that bat to good use. You understand me?”

Devin hesitated but nodded furiously when the guy squeezed his fingers around his neck even harder. He pushed himself off and looked at the gang that began backing away. “Why don’t you guys fuck off to where you came from?”

They didn’t say a word just pulled Devin off the ground and left with a loss. Luke laughed and rubbed at his sore mouth, “Man, you showed up just in time.”

“Sorry I didn’t get here sooner. You look like shit.” He laughed and cut his eyes at the Asian who never stopped staring at him. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Hey, you.”

“Delirious?” He asked uncertainly, but there was no mistaking that laugh.

“Yeah …” All of a sudden he felt shy like he always knew he would whenever he met him. But it faded when Evan’s arms found their way around him and held him tight in a hug that he wanted to stay in.

“I’m sorry.” Evan said and Jonathan shook his head.


“I know you didn’t want to meet me today. Or in this situation.”

“It doesn’t matter. I would’ve kept putting it off for the rest of my life if this hadn’t happened.” Jonathan hummed against his shoulder. “So don’t apologize, you big fat Canadian.”

Evan pulled back with a smile, “Well, you’re hot. I knew you were gonna be.”

Jonathan flushed red, but couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot. “Shut up. Let’s go home, your lip is bleeding.”

“Alright.” Evan took his arm when it was offered to keep himself from stumbling. They walked back to Luke’s and Jonathan forced Evan onto the kitchen counter where he cleaned his cuts. He let his hand rest on the side of his face and he got lost in thought, got lost in the moment, in the fact that Evan was sitting in front of him, staring right back at him.

“What?” Evan asked with a small grin, he looked tired.

Jonathan shook his head, “Nothing. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I’d do it again.” Evan whispered and neither of them saw Luke slip out of the room. “For you. I’d do it over and over and over -”

Jonathan pulled his face against his and pressed their warm lips together. He broke it off just as fast and stepped away. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry.”

Evan slid off the counter and stepped toward him until he’d backed him against the fridge and pressed his body into him. “Stop apologizing. I’m starting to think you’re more Canadian than I am.”

Jonathan searched his brown eyes and found himself licking his lips before Evan made them meet again. There was no stopping them … except Luke who surprised them with the flash of the camera on his phone before he ran with Jonathan hot on his tail and Evan clutching his stomach as he rolled with laughter.

Like A Plaintive Melody, Ch.1

Here it is, folks, my “Singin’ In The Rain AU”

I hope you’ll enjoy it ;)

Read on AO3

“Premiere Tonight : the Biggest movie of 1927!”

Tina checks that her dress’s folds are not too rumpled by her coat, and that her feather hat is shiny and looking fabulous before turning towards the microphone.

“Live from the Egyptian Theater in Hollywood, this is Tina Cohen-Chang, reporting from the event of the season. What a night, ladies and gentlemen, what. A. Night!”

She looks over the different socialites making their arrival on the red carpet.

Not the main event yet.

Okay she can go on.

“Everyone is breathlessly awaiting for the arrival of the two stars of the evening–”, she starts, when a clamor from the crowd cuts her short.

A limo parks in front of the theater, and a dashing young man in a perfectly tailored suit–with sequins on the hem–comes out of the car, followed by an elegant older woman.

“And look who just arrived : none other than famous Zip Boy of the screen Hunter Clarington and his latest conquest, Miss June Holloway!”

The couple walks by her, the young actor smiling and waving at the crowd.

“Hunter has been so unhappy in his relationships, let’s hope that this is the one!” Tina continues, reporting on the event. “And now here comes–”

She pauses, puzzled by the relative silence of the crowd.

She recognizes the newcomer, of course–it’s her job, and Tina Cohen-Chang is the best at what she does.

“Here comes Sebastian Smythe, Blaine Anderson’s best friend. He’s the one who plays those delicious melodies that set the mood for the two lovebirds!” she says, beaming at Sebastian as he approaches nonchalantly, kissing the back of her hand. “Sebastian, what can you tell us about this new movie?”

Sebastian opens his mouth, but before he can say even one word, the crowd starts yelling and Tina nearly sends him flying into the theater’s door.

“Oh, oh, folks, this is it,” she says excitedly, clutching the microphone and missing Sebastian mimicking her behind her back, “it’s the producer of “The Dashing Warbler” herself, Holly Holliday, who has given you folks all of those pictures we love so much, and her wife, former silverscreen star April Rhodes-Holliday and with them–,” Tina gasps as the crowd’s clamor increases, –”yes! It’s those romantic lovers of the screen, Blaine Anderson and Sugar Motta!”

Out of the limousine, Blaine Anderson steps into the spotlight, waving at the fans with a genuine smile and a few comments for those who paid a tribute to one of his particular roles. Sugar Motta follows behind him closely, her smile blindening in the lights that surround the theater.

They walk across the carpet until they reach Tina, both actors hugging her warmly.

“Blaine, Sugar,” she says, a little breathless, “you both look lovely!”

Sugar bows graciously, sending kisses towards the crowd. Blaine humbly bows his head with the shy smile that has given him his fame.

The crowd goes wild, and Sebastian exchanges a smile with Blaine over Tina’s head.

“Looking at you two, it’s no wonder that your names are a household all around the world,” Tina comments, eyeing the two actors with a critical, if admirative, gaze. “Bacon and eggs, Motta and Anderson!”

Keep reading

Reverse Stanley Ideas

“Stanford” Pines is a tall, solid-looking man, cutting an imposing figure in the solid powder-blue suit he wears, his eyes concealed by mirror glasses and his fez upon his head.  He bears a keen intellect, which he likes to subtly show off and rub in other people’s faces when he can, both to assert his own superiority and to remind himself of how far he’s come from the days he slept in a stolen rental car and ate out of the trash. While technically not rude, he’s cold and unyielding, never openly showing affection or warmth. It’s not that he hates people, mind; it’s just that so few people are really up to snuff, not really worthy of his attention save in how they help him achieve his goals. Is it really his fault he’s not easily impressed? He stands the wealthy, powerful, and intimidating patriarch of the Gleefuls, wealthy and powerful even as a nagging little voice he does his best to ignore wonders when, exactly, it was when he became his father.

 This is nonsense, of course; he’s far wealthier and more successful than his father ever was, and even then, he’s a far better father figure. He doesn’t play favorites with Dipper and Mabel; he just expects the best of them, holds them to higher standards, treats them like his father treated Ford(and yet he never realizes the contradiction, never admits that the constant pressure and unrealistic demands made by his father on his brother). Of course, an outsider who was privileged enough to see the whole picture might wonder why the Twins are so afraid of him, so panicked by the idea of failing him, but for Stan that doesn’t matter.

You see, Stan’s greatest flaw is that he is certain he is in the right. So what if he keeps his brother locked in the basement, using the very device he found Ford using to forget his woes to leave the older twin broken and damaged and unable to remember his own name? So what if his grandniece and grandnephew have been broken in a number of subtle, idiosyncratic ways because he’s used them as tools in his overarching plan and is more than willing to “repay” them for their failures? So what if even his father was never greedy enough to deal with a being that calls itself a demon? He’s never gotten an iota of respect in his lifetime without forcing it, without cowing people and making them fear him. And so long as he works with Bill, he pushes himself further, towards a new world, a world when Stanley Pines will get what the universe owes him. And absolutely nobody is about to get in his way.

submitted by: @faithful-grigori

The best moving box, for that final relocation, is a glossy cherrywood casket.

The End is really the final, ultimate move, don’t you think?

“So where are you moving to?”

“Six feet under.”

“Oh, yeah? Did you get transferred?”

“You might say. Instead of sales, I will be moldering among the worms.”

“Gee, I hope the money’s good.”

“Me, too, man. Me, too.”

I don’t get why they dress you up when you die. My aunt was in a gorgeous gown. If you’re a man, they stick you in a suit just like every other man, living or dead.

This is death, not the prom.

I wanna be in my 20 year old, thin, threadbare terribly comfy Bob’s Trucking t-shirt, along with my ancient red flannel pajama bottoms. I’m going to be ‘laid to rest’, after all. That is how I laid myself to rest most nights–unless I had female companionship. In those rare cases, I only wore a thick coating of baby oil and a leer.

I do want a massive tomb, however. Something on a nearly Egyptian scale. And solar powered, because if there’s one thing I care about as a person, living or dead, it’s the issues.

On this massive tomb, I want a big red button that says PRESS. When my mourning faithful do indeed press it, I want “Jesus Built My Hotrod” by Ministry to begin blasting from hidden speakers. Why? Because soon I discovered that this rock thing was true. Jerry Lee Lewis was the devil. Jesus was an architect previous to his career as a prophet. All of a sudden, I found myself in love with the world, so there is only one thing I could do: DING A DING DANG MY DANG A LONG LING LONG!

this side of paradise; iris x lisa

for Flarrow Femslash Valentine’s Week: Meet Cute; Iris and Lisa are competing Con Artists or Grifters.

Definitely based on this holy fuck is this hot gifset.

Iris keeps a cock sure smile plastered as her face as she struts down the casino, ready to con a few fellas into giving up everything they own for some elusive scheme and another second in her company.

There’s a man in a sharp expensive suit rocking a Rolex sitting by the slots. He’s fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve, nervous. That’s her first mark. Iris could feel it in her gut that the man was going to fold like a pair of twos to her manipulations.

As she grabs a drink of a server’s hand and plans her entrance into the man’s view, a woman with beautiful brown waves of hair and the sharpest glint in her clear blue eyes gets in Iris’s way. The gorgeous woman with a slight smirk slid her hand on top of Iris’s mark’s arm, as if the correct way to con the man was by being too over assertive. Iris seethed inside while also being intrigue by the new player in town.

Who was this beautiful, but maddening lady?

Iris had just given a coy smile to a slightly rounder man with greying hair at the temples, but a soft, far away look in his eyes. Iris could tell the man was on the hook and all she had to do was pull the line. She looks up and catches the other con girl’s eye and gives her the smuggest smile. The woman tossed her hair over her shoulder and winked as if the she had gifted the mark to Iris.

It was on.

Three marks later and a lot of cash and other important valuable information stashed in Iris’s bra and in her mind, she almost runs straight into the devilish woman that she had been competing against since the beginning of the night.

The woman grabs her hips to keep Iris was tipping over; her touch seeping through Iris’s thin clothing. She looks up to meet gorgeous blue eyes with specks of gold and all of the sudden, it feels as if the air has been sucked out of the room. Iris has become breathless and the warmth of her stomach slides down to pool into a slick heat at the top of her thighs.

Iris can only blame this woman whose touch is lingering just so on the skin above Iris’s shorts, who’s giving Iris a knowing smirk with an edge of filth. It’s the same woman who had been plaguing Iris every single turn, giving her a run of the money, giving her a rush from an actual challenge.

“Hey sugar. This little dance has been fun, but why don’t we take this upstairs to my suite, hmmm?” the woman says as she trails her hands upward under Iris’s thin shirt.

Iris gives her a calculated stare, before twitching her lips upwards.

“Why don’t we? Is your name really Rose, or just one of your characters?” Iris asks as she lick her lips; the pink of her tongue slowly caressing the dark rouge of her lipstick.

“Lisa,” Lisa says as her eyes track Iris’s tongue.

“Iris,” Iris says. She slips out of Lisa’s grasp and trails her hands up the soft skin of Lisa’s arms.

Lisa laughs, capturing Iris’s hands to pull her into the elevator. She pushes Iris against the wall and captures her lips.

Iris chuckles into the kiss, before gasping as Lisa traces circles on the soft skin of Iris’s stomach.

Iris wasn’t expecting the night to turn out as successful and as fun as it was becoming. The hiccup in her plan was sweeter and dirtier than she thought.