#Even saw a shirt of his. and a few portraits and a bust!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sparkywrites25 · 2 years ago

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Hi Sparky 🙂

I hope you're having a good day!

I just saw (& reblogged) your post about requests, so I jumped in your ask box.

If it's ok with you, why not a Modern AU Erurihan where Erwin & Hange try to seduce Levi together at a party. Of course, nothing goes according to their original plan 😉

Thank you!

Summary: Hange and Erwin set their sights on one Levi Ackerman at a party. Seducing him, however, is another matter entirely.

Pairing: Erwin Smith x Hange Zoe x Levi Ackerman

Taglist: @youre-ackermine

Notes: If you like my work and want to see more then please join my taglist. Form is pinned on my blog.

The scowl sitting on Levi’s face only deepened as the smells of beer, tobacco and marijuana hit him in the face. His stomach churned and he fought back the instinct to gag. He had to step over a drunk girl currently draped over the entryway stairs into the manor house. She was mumbling and giggling about bubbles, eyes fluttering under the weight of her intoxication. He and his friends ventured further into the den of pounding music and obnoxious laughter. Irritation greeted him instantly.

The outline of classical beauty of the house was clear from the moment he stepped inside, but the rest was well hidden beneath the chaos raging within. Smoke wafted heavily around an expansive foyer, dimming the brightness of the white walls and veiling the paintings and portraits hanging all over them. Marble busts on pedestals were draped with jackets, decorative scarfs and sunglasses. At least one or two dripped with various liquids and spilled foods. In the heart of the room, a staircase spiraled upwards, furnished in polished wood much like the flooring which was now heavily decorated with stains and lethargic, laughing students. There must have been about a dozen people in this room alone, chatting, swaying to music or making out on the stairs.

“Woo!!” Isabel cheered from where she was walking ahead of Levi. “Now this is a party!” Her hips swung as she bounced forwards. Several sets of eyes fell on her immediately as she passed. The black waistcoat and mini skirt didn’t leave much to the imagination so Levi was grateful for the black fishnet sleeves and tights that covered her arms and legs. Even so, he threw some extra glares around those throwing looks Isabel’s way. His fingers twitched and he fisted them, forcing himself to focus on just that and not throwing said fist into any faces.

Of course, he paid no attention to the attention being placed on him and Farlan as they followed Isabel. Levi had offered for the minimal effort of a black t-shirt and jacket with equally dark jeans and boots while Farlan had taken the middle ground by wearing loose black slacks with a plum button-up.

As Levi took in the lack of hygiene generally being expressed around here, he was more grateful than ever for the two bottles of hand sanitizer in his jacket pockets.

“You must really be willing to clean, huh?” Levi scoffed as he side-stepped a suspicious puddle.

“Huh?” Isabel called back to him, looking over her shoulder.

“If you expect me to stay in this cesspit for a few hours then you must be really willing to clean for it,” Levi reminded her. It had taken Isabel promising to take on the bulk of the cleaning duties in their apartment for the next three weeks to convince Levi to give the party a chance. Chance meaning to stay at least three hours, according to Isabel.

He shot a side-eye at a golden haired, spaced-out guy sitting sprawled on the floor, reaching up to Isabel. The guy recoiled at the fierceness in Levi’s gaze although he still managed to flip the bird at the scowling man.

Ignoring the silent exchange, Isabel rolled her eyes and tossed her head, leading her friends across the foyer and into a (thankfully quieter) hallway. “Yeah yeah, I’ll do whatever cleaning you want. Just stay and have some fun, bro.”

“In this dump?” Levi scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Come on, Levi,” Farlan urged. “It’ll probably be better than you think. Anyway parties get a little messy. At least we’re not going to be the ones cleaning it up.”

A huff of agreement was all he received from his friend. The two young men followed Isabel as she navigated through making out couples, chatting friends and more than a couple of groups of people throwing random things around. Levi was already imagining how quickly the mood of the place would go south when it came to clean up.

In the kitchen, they were greeted by Nifa who had rainbows painted across the left half of her face and sloshed some of her drink as she dashed over to hug Isabel one-armed. Isabel returned the hug with a happy cry and instantly started admiring the rainbows and chattering about who was at the party and who was getting up to what.

Levi’s eyes swept the room. In one corner, sat around an island counter, Miche Zacharius, a senior and one of the resident advisors for the Stohess dorm, was drinking beers with Nanaba, Gelgar and Thomas while playing cards. Gelgar was smirking widely at Nanaba who was avoiding his smug face by staring down at her cards. In another corner, Moblit Berner and Rico Brzenska were deep in conversation as they carried their drinks out onto a terrace. Levi felt the itch to follow them and escape the noise and the smells. Preferably with a strong drink in his hand. However he wouldn’t be able to escape there just yet. Not until both Farlan and Isabel were suitably occupied.

“How’s it going, guys?” Nifa directed her question towards Farlan and Levi with an easygoing smile.

“It’s good,” Farlan smiled at her then jerked a thumb at Levi. “Levi had to be dragged out kicking and screaming of course,” he said, throwing Levi a side-eye and teasing grin that had the darker haired man rolling his eyes.

Nifa’s laugh was short and her eyes were sympathetic as she looked at Levi. “Ahh well I’m sure you must have seen the foyer and wanted to go home, eh? It’s such a fucking disaster in there,” she mused. “I’m just glad that I’m not going to be the one to clean that shit up.”

Levi nodded. “I doubt they’ll clean it up properly,” he said.

“Probably not,” Nifa agreed and gestured behind her. “Drinks are over there,” she said, “and there’s some snacks in the other room,” she gestured to the lounge area. Levi could see many people already filling the space with dancing and laughter and noise. So much noise.

“Oki-doki,” Isabel said and dashed forward, plucking a plastic cup off the pile and going to fill it up at a beer keg. “Come on guys!” She reminded Levi off an energetic toddler as she went. Farlan chuckled and began to follow her.

Nifa eyed Levi who had moved to grab a cup but, instead of approaching the keg, was now advancing on the table of spirits and mixers. She followed him after a moment and leaned against the counter while he poured himself a vodka with no mixer. She was smiling at him, fighting back a chuckle. “Someone’s popular as ever?” she teased.

Levi screwed the cap on the vodka and lifted one eyebrow. When she nodded her head behind him, he looked over his shoulder and cursed. With all the people in the room, he hadn’t even felt the sensation of people watching him in particular. He didn’t like the absence of that sense.

Standing in another corner of the room, they were watching him with smiles, one of which was casual, the other one gleaming and manic. Levi felt a headache coming on just from looking at that smile… and the rainbow eyesore that accompanied it.

Hange’s glasses were askew, their hair spiking up around a bun that reminded Levi of those drawings of the sun with flames around it. The rainbow monstrosity that was hurting his eyes was a sleeveless dress worn over orange leggings and accompanied by bright green sleeves. The whole outfit was topped off by one blue boot and one red. He blinked slowly. Yet, despite the fact that the outfit hurt his eyes, it was also unmistakably Hange. They waved energetically at Levi who did nothing in return.

Next to Hange, Erwin cut a much calmer figure. Dressed in an open blue button up with rolled up sleeves and a white t-shirt beneath along with a pair of sandy slacks and loafers, the tall golden haired man was watching Levi with serene amusement.

“Tch,” he grumbled, picking up his drink and turning away, “I’m not drunk enough to deal with them,” he muttered. Even so, his mind fluttered back to the way Erwin’s t-shirt stretched across his broad chest or how Hange’s rainbow outfit actually managed to suit them well.

Nifa chuckled and watched him take his drink and, slowly, return to Farlan and Isabel’s side.

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

“Levi’s looking fine tonight.” Hange lifted their drink to their lips and swigged the last of it. “So let’s make the most of it.”

Erwin’s laughter came out in a quiet huff as he wrapped an arm around his partner. “I admire your tenacity, Hange but I don’t rate our chances of getting anywhere with him when the house is in this much of a state.”

Hange leaned into their boyfriend’s broad chest and pursed their lips thoughtfully. “That does present a problem,” they agreed. “But I’m sure you could… persuade… some people to make this place a bit more… Levi-friendly,” they suggested, raising their eyes to his and wriggling both brows.

He lifted his own bushy brows and chuckled. “I am flattered by your confidence in me to convince people to clean during a party.”

“If anyone can do it, you can,” Hange enthused with a wink. They leaned up to kiss him on the lips and felt his hands squeeze their sides in affection.

“That does make me wonder what exactly you’re going to get up to while I’m on this endeavour,” he remarked, raising one of his brows highly. “If we’re actually gonna make our move tonight then-”

“Oh Erwin, do you have to make everything sound like a military operation?” Hange giggled. “We’re just trying to hook up with one of the two hottest guys on campus.” Their arms looped around Erwin’s broad shoulders as they began to swing from one foot to the other. “Relaaaax into it, will you?”

Erwin’s chuckle rumbled through them both. “One of two?”

“Oh stop fishing, handsome,” Hange kissed him again. This time the kiss lingered as Erwin’s lips moved encouragingly against theirs. His strong arms lifted them off their feet for a moment and the party disappeared around them for seconds of bliss. He tasted of beer and lemon and Hange breathed in his cologne as they clung to him.

He put them down and broke away from the kiss just enough to whisper against their mouth. “Try not to get yourself into too much trouble while I’m gone,” he urged with a knowing smile. Picking up his cup, he moved away to refill it and then disappear into the crowd.

Hange watched him go with a smirk and played with her own empty cup.

Among those left in the kitchen, Levi and his friends had disappeared, presumably into the lounge. Hange set off for their own refill.

Or at least that was the plan until they saw that the shots counter full of shot liquids and empty glasses was currently unattended.

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

Seduction was a science, Hange reminded themself as they poured a fourth raspberry shot into their glass. It required skill and confidence to put into place especially when it came to someone like Levi who was difficult to read when he was in a good mood let alone when he was like this - annoyed and openly disliking being here. Therefore Hange would need all the confidence they could get to play their best cards with Levi.

He was so incredibly handsome, they mused as they leaned back against the counter. At least they knew they had good taste between him and Erwin. But other than being good-looking, the two men were so different. Erwin had that polite-lovable-giant-on-the-surface-but-actually-a-crafty-shark-underneath thing going on and that was hella sexy. Levi had something Hange had never encountered before - the whole bad boy plus clean freak combination was pretty intriguing. He looked like he might murder you but at least he would clean up after himself. That was hot.

Hange thanked the stars that they and Erwin were always entirely honest with each other. When they’d both admitted that they’d begun to admire Levi in more ways than one, it had taken just one conversation for them to decide to pursue it. However they could hardly have chosen someone more difficult to approach outside of classes. Hange didn’t think she’d ever seen Levi hanging out with anyone other than Isabel and Farlan. The three of them always just seemed to do their own thing.

Whoever talked Levi into coming to this party had earned Hange’s undying respect.

Downing the shot, Hange’s eyes scanned the constantly changing traffic inside the kitchen. They glanced up at the clock. Erwin had been gone about twenty minutes now and Hange was feeling pretty restless. They pushed off the counter and refilled their cup with some more beer and almost knocked into Jean Kirstein who was trying to balance several drinks at once.

“Watch it, Hange!” he cried out, darting aside at the last second.

Hange merely waved him off, their brown eyes seeking out a completely different undercut. They weaved through various groups, ignoring the protests as they stepped into the lounge.

There were easily a few dozen people in the enormous space. All of the cream-white expensive-looking sofas had been pushed back against the walls allowing for a larger dance floor. Rich leather armchairs were shoved in the spaces between them. The floor was filled with crowding dancers while many onlookers - some of them without shoes - had taken refuge on the cushioned seats. Some had sprawled out at their feet on the soft pale carpet. The whole room was too white for Hange, even with the paintings hanging everywhere. The colours of coats and jackets draped over the furniture, and the brightly coloured figures currently swaying to the Macarena definitely livened the aesthetic up.

They scrutinized the seated crowd, passing over the dancers in a second. (If anyone gets that guy to dance, I’ll eat this dress, Hange scoffed).

Halfway across the dance floor, they recognized the bright double ponytails of Isabel energetically throwing herself into the dance with Mina, Sasha and Nifa. Across from her, Farlan had snagged a place on one of the sofas, chatting to a pair of guys that Hange recognized as Reiner and Berthold. Hange blinked slowly. No Levi? They wondered and turned to inspect the other side of the room. Maybe he ditched after all, came a thought laced with disappointment.

Another sweep of the room revealed no further signs of the short badass. Hange huffed and ventured further into the room, towards the turning, gesturing bodies on the dance floor.

“Oh Leeeviiiii!” they called, glasses gleaming under the rainbow lights. The shifting lights made the various colours bounce into focus and Hange found themself moving along with the music as they searched. “Levi!” they called again. “Oi, Shorty-!”

Even with Hange’s natural volume, the music easily overshadowed their attempts to call for Levi. They navigated around a couple that were making out and found themself standing in the furthest corner of the room. Five armchairs had been positioned close together but one had been turned around to face the window. It was occupied by the back of a dark head of hair. As Hange stepped closer, they recognized the undercut that appeared beneath the ear-length strands.

A victorious smile lit up their face. “Levi!!” they cheered and practically bounced over to them.

The face that turned towards them was heavy with irritation. Levi lowered the cup from his lips and sighed. “The fuck do you want, Four-Eyes?”

Hange grabbed the nearest chair and swung it to face his, plopping down into it. “What does anyone come here to do? Socialize!”

“Socialize with someone else.”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Hange planted their elbows on their knees and cupped their cheek in one hand. “You don’t mind talking to meeee.”

“In very small doses,” Levi grumped.

“Than consider this your daily dose!” Hange declared, their arm shooting up into the air with triumph.

Levi reached his free hand up to his eyes to rub at them. “I swear you should come with a mute button,” he quipped. Hange’s face twisted into (for now) silent protest only to falter when they saw the corner of Levi’s mouth begin the curve upward.

“Oh come on, I make life interesting.” Hange countered. “And you look so riveted here.”

Levi held their gaze with an exceptionally uninterested expression. However Hange simply waited him out. Not that it was easy - their natural state of being was to talk and move about after all. Part of them itched to get up and groove along with the music while waiting for Levi to speak but that was only going to irritate him more. If they were going to get to know him better, to get closer to him, they had to not drive him away with annoyance. There was a delicate balance to what Levi Ackerman seemed to be able to tolerate in other people. Hange was still figuring that out from the interactions they and Erwin had had with him in class and just in general.

“Okay, an idea,” Hange held up a finger as a brain wave hit them. “If I can make you smile in the next five minutes, we hang out. You know, we might even have a good time. If I can’t manage it, I’ll leave you to your brooding, deal?”

Levi considered their words then lifted his phone. After tapping it a dozen times, he laid it on the arm of the chair, a timer visible. “Go ahead.”

Hange’s eyes gleamed. “Excellent. Okay then.” They sat up straighter and stretched their neck around, rolling their shoulders forward.

Levi frowned. “What the hell are you about to do?”

“You know, I should really complain to Spotify about you.”

“Why?”

“They didn’t name you as this week’s hottest single.”

Levi’s exhale was quiet and his eyelids lowered. He slow blinked irritably.

Unfazed, Hange just grinned at him. “Tough crowd, all right-y then.” They stroked their chin then clicked their fingers at him. “If being sexy was a crime, you’d be guilty as charged!”

This time Levi’s eyes fully closed. “Even you can do better than that one.”

“You’re right,” Hange frowned to themself, “that one was definitely beneath me.”

Levi eyed the timer on his phone briefly then leaned back in his armchair, fixing Hange with a bored, expectant look. Damn, he looked fine like that, Hange thought as they grinned at him. They brought their drink to their lips. Okay come on, get it together. You gotta wow him.

“If you were a fruit,” they decided, “you’d be a fine-apple.”

For a few seconds, Levi blinked in surprise and then an eye-roll took over again. “Is that your plan? To keep throwing cheesy lines at me? Time’s-a-ticking, Hange.”

“Hey, I’m willing to be there’s a sense of humour buried somewhere underneath all that snark, you know.”

For a millisecond, Hange thought they saw Levi’s lip twitch but he lifted his drink to his lips and took a sip. Damn, close.

“Wow,” they mused, “when God made you, he was seriously showing off.”

Levi lowered his drink and there was a glint of pity in his narrowed eyes. “Really, Hange? You’re going to stoop to religious ones now?”

Hange pursed their lips. He had a point. It wasn’t like they were religious and it felt out of place whenever they mentioned an almighty deity having any say over what happened here. They were a scientist and they’d spent most of their childhood arguing against the existence of God to their parents. Just the memory of it had them reaching up to rub the bridge of their nose.

“Yeah…” they muttered, “I don’t know what I was thinking there.” They fell silent, seconds passing as their mind wandered back to a place it hadn’t been in a long time. To a place they didn’t really want to revisit and yet it was never too far from their thoughts. How could it not be after all that had happened? Images rolled through their head against their will; a suitcase being thrown into their hands, a slap around the face, snarling disowning words and the cold evening rain. Hange exhaled slowly, their eyes closing as they lost themselves in that cold, wet, terrible memory.

“Oi.” Levi nudged their leg with his own. “You’ve got three and a half minutes left.” As Hange opened their eyes, they met Levi’s penetrating eyes. His frown deepened as he read their expression. “Come on,” he urged.

Hange smiled, grateful for the distraction.

Drumming their fingers against their knee, they gave their next line some serious thought. Finally after about twenty seconds, their smile turned into a smirk. “If I was a cat,” they remarked, “I’d spend all my nine lives with you.”

Levi huffed and it sounded suspiciously like muffled laughter although his lips - those beautiful lips - still didn’t curve up into a full smile. Damn him. Hange cursed. He’s hard work.

“Given what I’ve heard about you in other classes,” Levi murmured, “I can’t imagine you’d have many lives left.”

Hange’s jaw dropped. “Cheeky bastard.”

“Three minutes.”

Hange pouted. “Fine.” They planted one hand on their knee and leaned forward. “Kiss me if I’m wrong,” they declared, “but dinosaurs still exist, right?”

Levi snorted, the derision rolling out of him as a smile flickered across his face, briefly but there. “That was stupid,” he muttered.

Hange beamed. “It worked though.”

“Barely,” he countered and then drank from his drink again. “Fine. You’re tolerable,” he admitted with a smirk. “But I’m getting another drink first,” he insisted, rising to his feet. After a second, he held out his hand for their cup. “Refill?” At their nod, he sniffed the drink and wrinkled his nose. “Of course you drink that crap,” he murmured as he stepped around the armchair. “Hold the seats,” he said before disappearing into the crowd.

Hange grinned, gave him a salute and leaned back in their armchair, throwing their feet onto Levi’s seat while waiting.

They gazed across the dance floor which was filling up with more people as the latest hit by some boy band Hange barely recalled began to play. Girls swung their hips dramatically and many guys were pulled up into their arms to sway with them. Hange cackled a bit as they stretched out in their seat.

“Ah to be mainstream.”

Between the pulsing, shifting multi-coloured lights doing their own dance across the people and the room in general, the rhythmic beat of the music and the comfort of the chair, Hange felt themselves zoning out especially as the alcohol from the shots began to announce itself again. Time disappeared in a spectrum of colour, light and noise.

“Get your shitty feet off my chair,” Levi interrupted their daze and they lowered their feet with a smile, reaching up to accept their new drink.

“You need to lighten up a bit Levi. All that tension isn’t good for you,” they told him, taking a hearty swig of the beer.

He said nothing and took his seat. His eyes darted over to where Isabel was still dancing and where Farlan was talking animatedly with Reiner and Berthold.

“Do you want to go join them?” Hange asked, feeling a stab of guilt that Levi might be missing the company of those who he was clearly closest to.

Levi shook his head. “No.” He turned his head away and turned back to Hange. “Well, you wanted to hang out, right?”

Hange nodded enthusiastically. “That I did, and… I gotta know, Levi. How did someone persuade you to come out tonight? I don’t think I’ve seen you at one of these in months.”

“Isabel promised to take up considerable cleaning duties if I came out for a few hours.” Levi murmured, shrugging and glancing at Isabel.

“Wow, so she meets your standards? Those things fucking precede you, Levi.”

He snorted quietly. “Not at all. But Farlan does and he can supervise.” Drinking from his cup, he eyed Hange with a growing frown. “Where’s Erwin? You got him cleaning up one of your messes again? Oh wait, that’s Moblit right?” A smirk tugged on his features. Hange flipped him the bird regardless of the fact that the expression looked fucking hot on him.

“He had to go speak to some people,” Hange said, waving off the snark for now, making the most of actually getting to spend some time with Levi for now. “I’m sure he’ll be along soon.”

“Well, there’ll be no missing him, will there?”

Hange chuckled. “Nope. He and Miche aren’t hard to find in a crowd.” They eye Levi who rolls his eyes.

“Shut up.”

“What?”

“I can see the short joke building behind those shitty glasses.”

Laughing, Hange crossed one leg over the other. “Hey, there’s gotta be some perks. No banging your head against doorways. You can disappear into a crowd.”

“Yeah.”

“Bet you’re pretty graceful about it too.”

“Well it helps not having the coordination of an intoxicated duck.”

Hange scowled. “Hey, as long as these things,” they patted their legs as they spoke, “get me where they need to go, I don’t care how they go about it.”

“Clearly.”

It was Hange’s turn to roll their eyes and they took another sip - a far larger one - of their drink which did not go unnoticed.

“Take it easy,” Levi urged. “I’m not clearing up if you puke.”

“I’m not going to hurl,” Hange insisted.

“That’s just as well,” Erwin announced as he stepped up behind Hange, “seeing as how I’ve just convinced some people to start clearing up. They’ll start with the foyer. Make this place look somewhat presentable at least.” He dragged one of the armchairs between Levi and Hange, nodding towards the considerably shorter man who was wearing an expression of bemusement. Erwin sank into the seat and looked towards Levi. “Levi.”

“Erwin,” Levi greeted. “I’m impressed you managed to get some of these idiots moving.”

“Well there’s quite a few people - I suspect, like yourself - who have been dragged here. This at least gives them something to do,” Erwin said as he rested one leg across his knee and leaned back in the armchair, propping up his drink on the arm. “And it’s quieter out there now cleaning is in motion. No one wants to dance around the smell of chemicals.”

“So they may get more of the quiet ones going to help.” Hange folded their arms and smirked at Erwin, “making this place less crowded. Nice job, Erwin. I’m impressed.”

Levi eyed the pair of them. “Why would you bother doing all of that? This one clearly doesn’t mind mess,” he pointed to Hange although, despite his words, there was a faint smirk on his lips.

“I just felt it might be prudent,” Erwin shrugged. He drank from his cup. “Speaking of,” he eyed Hange briefly, “I trust you’ve been behaving yourself,” he queried with a teasing smile. His free hand moved to hold the corner of the back of their chair. “I must say I’m impressed. It’s almost 8:30 and you haven’t streaked yet.”

“Jeez!” Hange exploded. “You do that a couple of times and it gets turned into your thing!”

“From what I hear,” Levi mused, “it’s a pretty regular occurrence.”

“So I get a little free-spirited after a few drinks.”

“Yeah well, don’t get free-spirited tonight,” Levi rolled his eyes and scanned the dance floor for his friend Isabel again.

“Oh I don’t know, Levi,” Erwin smirked, “you might enjoy the view. I certainly do.”

While Erwin was generally known for his bold declarations and self-assurance, this last comment had Levi hesitating in the midst of taking his drink. He lowered his cup and stared across at the blond with slightly parted lips. “You’d really want other people to be eyeing up your lover?”

Erwin’s smile deepened. “Depends who it was,” he admitted, running his thumb over the upholstery on Hange’s chair. “Maybe we wouldn’t mind one person taking a look.”

Levi’s brows had furrowed together so tightly, they’d merged into one long, thin line. “Huh?”

“Yeah,” Hange leaned forward in their chair, letting their gaze sweep over Levi deliberately slowly. “It might be a lot of fun if said person were to take a look.”

“Perhaps even more than a look,” Erwin’s tone had lowered. “There’s a lot of exploration to be enjoyed after all.”

“Yeah,” Hange scooted forward on their seat, “so maybe this person should kick back a little and start having some fun-oops!” As they stood up and reached over to pat Levi’s shoulder, they overbalanced and the drink in their hand immediately spilled over, right onto Levi’s t-shirt The material soaked into the material.

“For fuck’s sake, Four-Eyes!” Levi jumped to his feet, jaw clenching as beer dripped down his top.

Erwin dropped his face into his hand. “Hange!” he protested, his brows knotting together, watching as his efforts took a nosedive right before his eyes.

“Shit!” Hange cursed at the same time. “Shit! Sorry, Levi! Let me get you a towel.”

“No,” Levi snapped as he brought sticky fingers away from his shirt, “A towel’s not going to do shit. It’s fucking soaked, Hange!” He shook the edge of his t-shirt and droplets of beer flew onto Hange’s clothes. “This is disgusting,” he grumbled staring down at the mess.

“Aww no, Levi, it’s ok come on! It’s not too bad. It’s black so no one can see it.” Hange protested as their hands fastened around one of his biceps, their voice climbing in pitch.

“I’ll feel it. Let go, Hange,” Levi grumbled, shaking his arm. “Fuck this.” “I’m not sitting in a filthy, sticky shirt all night. I’m out of here.”

“We can clean it! If you just take off your shirt, I’ll wash it for you-”

A splutter of disbelieving laughter cut Hange off at once. Levi was looking at Hange as if they had grown six more heads.

“You’ll clean it?” Levi actually turned away, lips stretching further into the weird, surprised smile that was taking over his expression. “Four-Eyes, you barely clean yourself,” he scoffed, “and not as often as you fucking should.”

A snicker behind Hange announced Erwin’s take on the matter and Hange rounded on him. He pursed his lips, attempting to take a neutral expression but a smile was already breaking through. “He has a point, Hange,” he told them.

Hange planted both hands on their hips. “Hey I’m just making a suggestion. If it goes in the wash now, it can be cleaned and dried in a few hours. This place has a laundry room. I saw Ymir and Historia making out in it earlier.”

Levi brought a hand up to pinch his nose. “And that’s supposed to make me trust my shirt there?”

“They weren’t making out in the machines, Levi.”

“Fuck knows what they were doing on them,” Levi retorted. “No, I’m leaving. This place is just a fucking headache. I’d rather do my own cleaning again than sit here in this shit for a few more hours.” He shrugged his arm fully out of Hange’s grip and stepped around his chair, turning towards the dance floor and his friends.

“Levi, wait,” Erwin suddenly raised a hand, “I may have a solution.”

“What, are you a washing machine now, Erwin?” Levi had stopped but had only half-turned towards Erwin with a frown.

“You can wear one of my shirts,” Erwin told him and pointed towards the ceiling. “And I’ll see to it that yours gets cleaned tomorrow.”

Levi held his gaze silently, his frown growing as he looked around the room. “What do you care if I stay? This shit isn’t for me, Erwin. I may as well just leave and clean it myself.”

Hange eyed the two men. “Wouldn’t one of your shirts be too big on him, Erwin? I mean you’re a freaking giant,” they pointed out, “and he’s…” they eyed Levi who was giving them a death stare right about now, “below average height.” Even with that phase, their words were still met with a scowl.

Erwin shook his head. “Nanaba accidentally put one of my shirts in the wrong wash and, basically, shrunk it.” He shrugged his shoulders a little. “I hadn’t gotten around to disposing of it yet. So Levi can have it instead if it fits.”

Levi frowned some more. “Why didn’t you just throw it out straight away?”

“I’ve been concentrating on a particularly stressful essay so there are a few things that fell by the wayside so to speak. Regardless, do you want to use it?”

Levi considered his offer. “Doesn’t do me much good when it’s at your home.”

“Oh!” Hange snapped their fingers and pointed upward. “Erwin is staying here during the term,” they explained. “With Miche, Nanaba and Nifa.”

Erwin nodded. “I have a lock on my room - in fact we all have - so there won’t be any…” he began to smile, “incidents in there.”

“No horny students getting their rocks off on your bedsheets, huh? Smart move,” Levi quipped.

Erwin chuckled. “It might be considered over the top but it’s paid off now, wouldn’t you agree?” He slid his hands into his pockets. “Anyway, whether you stay or go, either way, I’m sure you don’t want to be walking around in that shirt.”

Levi gave the dark material a distasteful glance. “No,” he agreed. He gave a stiff nod. “Okay. I appreciate it.”

“It’d be good if you stayed though,” Hange offered Levi some pleading eyes. “It was good to talk to you.”

Some of the irritation had left the grumpy man’s narrowed eyes and he huffed out a small breath. “It’s too fucking loud in here, Hange, even with you in the room.”

Hange’s gaze darted around the room, quickly searching for something that might give them a foothold in convincing Levi to stay at the party for longer. “Okay, yeah that’s true,” they conceded, “but there’s other rooms.” Their gaze jumped back to the windows and the lengthy terrace that stretched out behind them. “We could sit outside. That’d be quieter.”

Levi’s protest seemed to hover on his face as he looked outside.

“That’s a good idea. It’s quite a bit warm in here,” Erwin agreed, tugging at his collar. “At the very least, it won’t be such a headache.”

“Yeah…” Levi answered and then closed his eyes for a moment. “Yeah fine. If the shirt fits I’ll stay for a bit.”

“All right,” Erwin nodded and eyed Hange. “Hange, if you could grab us some drinks and meet us on the balcony. Levi, what are you having?”

Hange felt the dark haired man’s eyes linger on them considerably, probably doubting their ability to keep his drink intact. They braced themselves for an argument or at least a dig about their coordination having already cost him one shirt tonight.

“Vodka,” he answered simply before making for the door. Erwin followed him and only then did Hange allow themself to grin at the fortunate save of the situation. They looked down at their hands with a thoughtful smile.

That was pretty clumsy of me. I’ll get a water with my next drink.

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

A cup of water and ten minutes stood outside in the quiet night helped to restore some focus and clarity to Hange’s inebriated state. They took great pride from the fact that they had managed to balance a wooden tray of drinks through the still crowded kitchen and outside without spilling more than a few drops here and then.

Guess my coordination doesn’t suck that much at all, does it Levi? They thought with a vindicated smile.

The terrace that ran alongside the back of the house was incredibly spacious. The stone balustrade stood a fair way from the windows and looked out over a magnificent garden. In the middle of the terrace, stone steps descended onto trim lawns that disappeared into the darkness. As Hange leaned over the balustrade they thought of how intriguing it would be to walk into that darkness. Maybe next time they would. For now, there were other plans to be had tonight.

Admittedly doubt was creeping in about the likelihood of anything happening with Levi tonight. It could well be that he just wasn’t interested in anyone and that would make a lot of sense. But sense rarely went hand-in-hand with feelings and so Hange had been counting on that for a lot of tonight’s shenanigans and talk. They would hate to have to rule out any kind of possibility, not when they couldn’t stop thinking about Levi. Levi and his undercut. Levi and his sour expressions whenever someone made a mess near him. Levi shutting down any asshole’s attempt to start anything with him. Levi who always told Hange the truth, who didn’t sugarcoat things. Levi who didn’t treat them different. Levi whose snarks and put-downs really belonged on a youtube channel. A collection of utter sourness and sass.

Drumming their fingers on the stonework, Hange didn’t pay a lot of attention when the sound of the door opening reached them. Instead, they searched the darkness ahead of them, slowly lifting their eyes to the twinkling stars.

“I should have known,” Erwin called across the quiet space, chuckling as he did, “that you’d be here with your first love.”

Hange smiled and cast a smile at Erwin over their shoulder with twinkling eyes. “Do I detect a note of envy there, my darling Erwin?” they cooed, fighting back their own laugh. “The stars have held my heart since long before we met, my dear.”

“I can’t deny the beauty that calls your attention to them,” Erwin mused as he strolled up to Hange who turned to step into his arms as they wrapped around them. “But short of them falling to Earth and taking human form, I don’t think I have much to worry about do I?”

“Wouldn’t that just be incredible?” Hange breathed, eyes alight at the imagery that appeared in their mind. “Oh to have Moblit’s gift for art right now.” They planted their hands on Erwin’s biceps, raising their attention to their boyfriend’s face. “Or your way with words. You should make that your next short story.”

“Perhaps,” Erwin’s lips touched theirs before they could say anymore. Hange relaxed into the kiss, letting a hand slide to gently ruffle the back of Erwin’s hair, fingers caressing the soft golden strands that lay so orderly against each other. They smiled into the kiss as Erwin shifted at the touch, his kiss pressing firmer against their mouth. The heat of the touch. He tasted of beer and home and comfort. Hange’s eyes flickered shut as one of Erwin’s hands rose to their cheek and cupped it, holding her closer to him.

It was so easy to lose the seconds like this, to forget rhyme and reason, work and woes, worries and chatter. This feeling was exhilarating and soporific all at once. Their insides were fizzy with the ecstasy of the physical touch and yet their body was consumed by the urge to melt into Erwin’s chest. His wonderful, sturdy chest.

“Hmmm.” Hange murmured in contentment when Erwin leaned away from them. Their hands gripped his biceps harder and they were rewarded when he didn’t pull back any further. They reached up to brush their knuckles against Erwin’s cheek, smiling when he turned his lips and kissed them.

What they had with Erwin was not something they had expected to find after the popularity dive that had been coming out as non-binary in the last year of high school. Even with all of that prejudice they had faced from other students, coupled with the ignorance of the staff, it had been a relief in the end. They had realized that all of the anxiety that had bubbled away in them over the years and all of the fears of rejection, isolation and violence (fears built on horror stories of coming out to the wrong people) that had kept them awake at night had been correctly rooted in the small town with the narrow minds.

Knowing that and accepting that had been the two biggest stepping stones to leaving that town behind and coming to Trost. Within three years, they had become surrounded by people capable of love and support and understanding. A romantic relationship was never something Hange had ever been able to entertain back in their teenagehood. Sometimes even now, it seemed incredible that Erwin could want this from them, could want them. Hange was fully aware that their personality was not the easiest to gel with. Some people looked at them with wary eyes or downright terror. Even those who didn’t look at them that way, they still didn’t look at Hange the way that their boyfriend did. With pure acceptance and appreciation.

“This is nice,” Erwin mused, stroking Hange’s long brown locks.

“Yeah,” Hange leaned up to kiss his lips. “Did Levi go in the end?”

“No, he’ll be down soon,” Erwin explained. “He’s just getting himself cleaned up.” He stepped up to the balustrade and folded his arms on it, leaning over to stare down into the gardens. “Perhaps on this endeavour,” he remarked, his tone edge with amusement, “you could not spill a drink on our resident clean-enthusiast.”

“Oh Erwin, always spoiling my fun,” Hange smirked. “Does he not get oh so sexy when he’s annoyed though?”

“That he does. But we are still in public, Hange. Besides, that’s rather the point of all this isn’t it?”

“Yep!” Hange took another swig from their drink.

“Hange, your cup is half-empty already.”

“It’ll be fine,” Hange assured him. They began to sway from side to side, humming “She’ll Be Coming Round The Mountain,” which had Erwin smiling even more. Hange leaned into his side a little each time they moved in his direction. “So which shirt is he going to be wearing? Which one got shrunk?”

Erwin directed his attention firmly away from his partner as he lifted his cup for a sip. The sip turned into a long one as the truth of the situation and the revelation that he was about to make began to hit him. For a few moments, he kept the cup to his lips, pretending to prolong the swig even more. But eventually, when it was bordering on beyond reasonable to keep “drinking”, he lowered the cup a little. “The teal one,” he murmured against the side of the cup.

Unfortunately for him, Hange was close enough to hear and decipher what he was saying. “The teal one?!” they hissed, planting their lips together in sound that turned into a muffled growl.

“Indeed,” Erwin confirmed, his lips twitching.

“The one I got you for Christmas?!”

“Yes.”

“The very expensive one that needs to be dry-cleaned only?”

“Yes.”

Hange placed their cup down on the balustrade with exaggerated care. Their chest heaved and their eyes darted around the dark space. “The shirt that I spent ages picking out for you because you have so many shirts that are similar and I wanted to get you something more unique?”

Erwin’s smile began to falter at the corners. “Hange, I think by now we’ve established which shirt I gave to Levi. Please-”

“The shirt that filled me with such pride and joy to give to you?!” Hange whirled on him with their last question. Their mouth was shaking and Erwin actually faltered upon seeing their expression. Uncertainty shone out of his blue eyes as he eyed his lover.

“Hange, I assure you, I didn’t intend for that shirt to be shrunk. It was just an accident in the laundry-” he reached out as he spoke, his fingers brushing their shoulder.

“You’re a genius!” Hange shrieked, extending their arms out, the gesture narrowly missing their cup on the stone railing. Erwin inched back, his brows knotting at once. He glanced towards the house. Although music was still booming from within, those in the kitchen were still within hearing distance of Hange’s yell. Erwin looked back at them with a frown.

“Excuse me?” he questioned.

“You. Are. A. Genius.” Hange enunciated just as loudly as they had before with both hands raised, thumb and forefinger pressed together on both.

“Hange, please keep your voice down.”

“He is going to look so good in that shirt!” they beamed and lowered their tone. “Teal is just his colour. It suits him actually. All dark and cool, like the sea. I tell ya, Erwin. That shirt’s sacrifice will not be in vain.”

Erwin began to smile again. “I’m glad you approve of my accidents, Hange.”

“Science is full of accidents that turn into discoveries,” Hange enthused. “Hopefully we’ll get some further findings later,” they winked.

“Perhaps we shall,” Erwin mused with a thoughtful smirk.

The door from the kitchen clicked open and a set of footsteps sounded against the stone. “Have I gone deaf or is Four-Eyes actually being quiet?” Levi commented as he stepped towards them. “What’s up, lost your voice? If so, I’m not surprised.”

The lights blazing from the windows illuminated him clearly as he walked. Erwin’s teal shirt clung to his lean, taut body well, stretching just enough across his muscles to reveal the shape of them beneath. The colour contrasted nicely with the dark jeans, Hange thought with approval as they gazed over him with delight. Too delighted to quip back at his comment, instead they fixed him with a bright grin and promptly negated his remark with an obnoxious wolf-whistle.

“Looking good, Ackerman.” Hange told him appreciatively.

To their astonishment, there was less annoyance radiating from Levi’s narrow grey eyes than usual. His lip was quirked in a half-smirk as he eyed Hange and stepped next to them and Erwin. Erwin stared down at him with a quiet but clear approval in his expression.

“Hange’s right. Teal really does suit you, Levi.”

Levi lifted one brow and eyed Erwin and then Hange. “And how would you know what suited me?”

“You don’t spend that much time around Moblit without picking up on what colours suit people,” Hange dismissed the point with a wave of their hand.

“If you say so,” Levi answered. “The colour’s not bad,” he agreed before turning his eyes on Erwin. “I was surprised to see it in your wardrobe though considering most of your shit is either blue or brown.”

The faintest touch of pink was visible in Erwin’s cheeks. “I’ve found my preferences and I see no shame in sticking to them.”

Hange cackled. “I’ve been trying to get him to branch out for years, Levi,” they explained enthusiastically as they reached for his drink and handed it over - spill-free this time.

“Yeah but your recommendation’s like going from one extreme to the fucking other,” Levi retorted which drew a laugh out of Erwin. The dark haired man’s smirk softened just a smidge as his eyes flickered over to Erwin, for only a couple of seconds before it was replaced by a neutral look.

“Hange doesn’t believe in baby steps,” Erwin teased.

Hange shrugged their shoulders. “What can I say? I live in the fast lane.” They reached out to tug Levi closer by the arm. “Anyway don’t be shy, Levi, I don’t bite.”

“Tch, I’m not convinced by that.”

“Neither am I, for that matter,” Erwin agreed with a knowing smile.

Hange half-huffed, half laughed. “I see it’s pick on Hange time is it? Well bring it on, boys.” They resumed drinking and turned to gaze out over the darkened garden once more.

Levi stepped up between the pair of them, resting his forearms on the balustrade as his attention moved up to the stars blanketing the darkening sky. For a minute or so they stood there in silence, listening to the rhythmic beats of the music and the distorted chatter and laughter coming from within the house.

“It’s a shame they have to ruin this with shitty music,” Levi observed after a few moments had passed.

Erwin and Hange followed his gaze and stared up into the twinkling lights as well and then back down at the mysterious man between them who seemed so transfixed.

“I didn’t have you down as a star-gazer, Levi,” Erwin broached the subject softly, returning his watch to the heavens.

Levi didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t lower his gaze nor did his face show any signs that he had heard Erwin. He lifted the cup to his lips and took a slow drink.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d be into something this mainstream,” Hange agreed as they leaned their cheek in their hand and turned their gaze rightward to where the moon hung in the distance.

Another silence followed.

“Sometimes it’s better to look up than at this shitty world,” Levi finally said after more seconds had passed. “The stars aren’t tainted by any of this shit.”

Hange smiled and lowered their gaze to eye the two men next to them. “That’s actually pretty beautiful,” they declared.

Levi huffed. “No it isn’t.”

“It is, in a way,” Erwin remarked. “This world can be pretty miserable. Why wouldn’t anyone want to look at something that’s so far away, so beautiful? Stars are so much more infinite, mysterious and mesmerizing. To look at them is to know that we’re all just part of a larger universe. There’s a comfort to knowing that, really.”

“Yeah.” Hange agreed, “and they’re also constantly exploding which is just awesome!” They enthuse, elbows on the railing, their face in their hands. “They really are magnificent.”

“Of course you like that about them,” Levi commented dryly before tilting his head at his two companions. “Anyway why are you both talking like we’re the first fucking people to look at some stars?” he grumbled although there was the faintest hint of colour in his pale face.

“You’re not, Levi,” Erwin assured him. “But it’s not something we expected from you. Being someone who would appreciate the natural beauty of such things.”

“Yeah well, you don’t know me,” Levi pointed out with a huff.

“Which is why we wanted to hang out tonight,” Hange turned to lean their back on the railing and folded their arms. “We want to get to know you.” They winked at him. “Intimately.”

Behind Levi, Erwin sighed and brought a hand up to cover his eyes, shaking his head as Levi frowned at Hange.

“Fuck off Four-Eyes,” the shorter man grumbled, rolling his eyes as Hange laughed once again.

“Don’t pretend you’re not having a good time, Levi. You’re out with us aren’t you?” they pointed out with a mischievous side-grin.

“And I’m questioning my own sanity believe me,” Levi quipped, drinking from his cup again.

“Hey, sanity is overrated sometimes.” Hange argued and pointed to Erwin. “I have to tell him that too. Sometimes you just have to step away and let the universe be crazy. Just sit in the craziness for a while and look at the colours. Life’s pretty beautiful when you do that.” They turned on their heel and leaned over the railing again, staring back up at the moon and the stars.

Erwin’s smile at Levi was a little crooked. “They do have a point. The world doesn’t end when you do something a little different now and then.”

Levi said nothing as he watched Erwin turn his attention back towards the garden. With the music vibrating through the house behind him and the quiet garden ahead of him, Levi found that when he stepped closer to Erwin and Hange, between them and against the railing, he was stood in between two completely different worlds. Maybe that was okay. Maybe that was an interesting thing. Maybe he wanted to explore that a little more. As he lifted his eyes to the heaven and the twinkling lights there, he thought that maybe this party wasn’t a total washout after all.

#my fics #fic: the science of seduction #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #one shot #erwin smith #erwin smith fanfiction #hange zoe #hange zoe fanfiction #levi ackerman #levi ackerman fanfiction #erwin smith x levi ackerman x hange zoe #erwin smith x levi ackerman x hange zoe fanfiction #erurihan #erurihan fanfiction

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padfoot-and-prongsie · 4 years ago

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Is That My Bra? || Fred Weasley

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 1.9k

Requested: No

Summary: Things get heated when Fred steals your favorite bra from your room

Warnings: Swearing

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever created it

A/N: This is my first piece of writing here, please let me know what you think! I hope y'all like it :)

PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR STEAL MY WORK. REBLOGS ARE JUST FINE :)

George walked back to the small circle of Lee and Fred, a triumphant look on his face. Proudly he lifted up his left pant leg, showing his now clean shaven leg.

“Done,” George declared, causing Lee and Fred to both fall back in laughter.

“Nice job Georgie,” Fred said, after composing himself. “You wait until Angelina sees that.”

George grinned. “They’re only going to make her fancy me more.”

Lee snorted at George’s comment, finding the shaven legs more horrifying than attractive. “Get on with it George, it’s your turn.”

George looked between the two of them, before he landed on Fred. “Freddie my boy, dare or dare?”

The three had originally been playing truth or dare, but after nobody picking truth for seven rounds, they had changed the name to dare or dare. For the last forty-five minutes, the three of them had been sent on a wide range of tasks, from streaking through the charms corridor (Lee got a weeks worth of detention for that) to making a dirty comment in the ear of an unsuspecting Hufflepuff.

Fred pretended to think. “Hmm, I think I’ll go with dare.”

George looked around the common room, trying to come with a suitable dare for his brother.

His eyes landed on you, who was just making your way down the stairs from the girls dormitories. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, were with you, and the three of you were laughing at a joke Alicia had said.

You turned, feeling someone’s eyes on you and sent George a look. He waved back wildly, and you raised an eyebrow, waving back to him.

You followed the girls out of the common room, heading towards the kitchens for an evening snack.

George turned back to the two boys with a wide grin on his face. “I dare you Fred to steal Y/N’s bra.”

Lee busted out laughing once more as Fred turned to George. “Easy,” he replied confidently, getting up from the circle.

A smirk played on his lips as he made his way towards the stairs up to the girls dormitories. He was only six steps up when the stairs flattened out, producing a slide that sent Fred tumbling back down into the common room.

George bent over laughing at his brother, who was now splayed across the floor and had attracted the attention of the few people present in the room.

“Jackass,” Fred muttered, picking himself up. “You knew that was going to happen.”

“I didn’t, I swear,” George defended between laughs.

Fred continued to glower, not buying it. “Give me a new dare, I can’t do this one.”

George’s laughter faded, his expression turning to one of thought as he tried to find a way around the stairs.

“We could go get your broom,” Lee suggested.

Fred nodded. “That could-” He let out a small yelp as he felt his feet leave the ground.

Looking down, he saw that he was now hovering six inches in the air and his brother was pointing his wand at home in concentration.

Lee let out a whoop of excitement as George lifted him up the steps.

Fred now stood at the top of the stairs, rubbing his head from where George had “accidently” bumped him into the wall.

“Go get the bra!” George yelled, causing a third year to fix the three with a horrified expression.

Fred walked down the narrow hallway, trying to locate your dormitory. After finding the right one, he pushed open the door, pausing for a moment to take in the sheer amount of clothes that littered the floor. He found your bed easily by the large Holyhead Harpies blanket that was stretched across the top. He himself had given it to you for your birthday last year.

Fred’s eyes landed on your trunk and a large smirk filled his face. Resting on top was a set of clothes, and beneath the shirt he could see the straps of a lacie red bra.

Fred slid down the stairs not three minutes later, sitting back down in the circle and triumphantly showing the boys your bra.

George applauded loudly, but immediately stopped when he caught sight of you coming back though the portrait hole with Alicia and Angelina, all three of you balancing numerous sweet treats in your arms.

“Shit,” George hissed, “it’s Y/N.”

Fred’s eyes widened and he quickly shoved your bra into his book bag that laid beside him, filled with the homework he had yet to do.

You walk past without a second glance though, heading up to your dorm.

The following morning you stood in your dorm, running late for breakfast as you hastily flipped through the clothes in your trunk.

“Are you okay?” Alicia asked, already dressed for the day.

“Yeah,” you replied absently, again rechecking all your clothes. “I just can’t seem to find my bra. Did one of you two take it? It’s the red one.”

Angelina snorted. “You know red’s not my color,” she stated, leaning over your shoulder to look in your trunk. “Just wear something else.”

You pursed your lips. “I picked this one out because it goes with my top for the party tonight, I have to find it!”

“You mean the top you’re going to wear for Fred?” Angelina asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You rolled your eyes. “No you daft doxie!” You exclaimed, giving your best friend a playful shove. “You and I both know that’s a load of horse crap.”

Angelina only winked back, causing you to shove her again.

Annoyed at your bad luck, you glared at your clothes once more. You knew you had set it out just last night so you could find it the next morning. Now where had it gone?

After three more searches through your trunk, which only seemed to make it messier and more difficult to look through, you settled for a black sports bra instead, not your favorite but it would have to do.

After morning classes you found yourself running late to lunch after going back up to your dorm to grab the transfiguration essay you had forgotten to put in your bag that morning. Hustling down the stairs, your stomach grumbled, reminding you that you had missed breakfast.

Your pace quickened, rounding the corner into the charms corridor where you immediately crashed into an unsuspecting student.

“Shit,” you said, as you rather ungracefully stumbled back. Losing your footing, you landed on the floor painfully.

“Damn I’m sorry Y/N,” someone said, and you looked up to see Fred sprawled across the floor across from you, his twin not too far away, trying to hide his snickers.

“Don’t-”

You had barely started speaking when your eyes landed on Fred’s bag, which had slid across the floor in the impact. Your attention was drawn to the red lacie strap which was peeking out from inside.

The twins followed your gaze, Fred’s face turning into one of surprise as he had completely forgotten that he hadn’t taken your bra out of his bag last night, whilst George doubled over in a silent laughter.

“Is that my bra?” you asked bluntly, turning to stare at Fred.

“I best be going,” George said, giving you two a little waive, “have fun with that brother.”

You turned to Fred again. “Is that my bra?” you repeated.

Fred’s look of shock twisted into a smirk. “Quite possibly love.”

“How- What-” you struggled to find the right words. Finally you resorted to just saying. “You took that from my room.”

Fred nodded. “Yup, sounds about right.”

You turned to look at your bra once more, and Fred, sensing what you were going to do, dove for it just as you did. He was far closer, reaching it first though you landed on top of him just seconds later, your hand trying to grip the undergarment.

“Give it to me,” you hissed, as he held it behind his head and out of your reach.

Fred looked up at you, from where he was positioned underneath, his smirk only widening. “You know I hadn’t pegged you as a top, Y/N,” he said cheekily. “We might have some control issues later.”

You glared down at him, but he only winked back.

“Shut the hell up and give me the damn bra,” you snapped, lunging forward.

Fred firmly placed his free hand on your waist, holding you back.

“You’ll need to do better than that L/N,” he taunted.

You were now royally pissed off and desperately wanted to hex that smirk right off his face. You look back to where your bag had fallen several yards back, judging how fast you could reach your wand.

“Don’t bother love,” Fred said, reading your thoughts. “I won’t let you get that far.” He squeezed your hips for good measure.

“Now do tell me,” he asked lazily, his hand that was on your waist beginning to slide up your shirt. “Why is this particular bra so important?”

You slapped his hand, but that only seemed to provoke him more as his thumb was now beginning to trace circles on your stomach. Quickly, you glanced down the hall to make sure it was empty, thank Merlin it was lunch. You and Fred were still in a rather compromising position, something he seemed to indicate wouldn’t change anytime soon. Normally you would have been rather content with this too, but currently you were far too focused on retrieving your stolen bra and the redhead beneath you wasn’t doing anything to lessen your annoyance.

“I need it for the party tonight,” you finally grumbled.

Fred pretended to think. “That is a rather convincing argument, you should have started with that earlier. I as much as the next guy would be quite curious of this outfit.”

You flushed red, picturing the rather see through top in your head.

Fred smirked at your discomfort, his hand rising up your back. With no warning, he pulled you down, causing you to let out a gasp when your face reached a mere few inches from his.

“I am very curious of this outfit,” he repeated, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.

You felt your heart rate quicken. His warm breath hit your face and you struggled not to sigh. You’re still angry at him, you tried to remind yourself.

Fred’s hand that was slithering up your back had now reached your bra and he let out a huff of annoyance. “Damn, sports bra, you’re killing me L/N.”

This time you were the one who smirked. “I would have been wearing that bra if you hadn’t taken it.”

“Now where would we be if I had done that?” Fred asked quietly, before pressing his lips against yours.

Almost instantly you kissed him back, your mouths moving together in sync. You felt Fred smirk against your mouth before he flipped you, causing you to let out a small yelp as you found yourself now looking up at him.

“I’m always on top,” he whispered huskily, crashing his mouth against yours once more.

Your hands tangled themselves into his hair, pulling him closer to you. His landed on your body, dropping your now forgotten bra on the floor. They traced your skin, running up your stomach and, despite Fred’s complaints, still managing to get beneath your bra.

“Fred,” you muttered against his mouth. “Can I have my bra back?”

“Only if I get to be the one to take it off you tonight.”

#fred weasley x reader #fred x wesley #fred x y/n #fred weasley #fred and goerge weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred and george #weasley family #weasly twins #hp fanfic #harry potter #fanfic

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calunasteria · 3 years ago

Text

please, xanny. | sanzu haruchiyo

"𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚."

- ever wonder how love will feel like if its with sanzu haruchiyo?

current word count: 2.3k

tw (throughout the series): mentions of drug use and abuse, manipulation (gaslighting) and toxic relationships, mentions of blood, death, and murder, rape (attempt), use of deadly weapons, slight nsfw (??) - kindly tell me if i missed one. thank you.

date started: 07/29/21 (wattpad) | 07/31/21 (tumblr)

date ended: -

02 ! please, xanny.

i still dont know sanzu's background/backstory so this might be inaccurate but i'll try to edit this out once i'm done with the story and once their backstory is out (akashi siblings).

note: not proofread

sanzu was never the type to associate and talk his feelings, emotions, and ideas out loud, not unless if it became too much for him to handle. he was never the type to play hero for someone he barely knows because his heart and mind can only let few people in. once he made up his mind about something, or fixated his loyalty for someone, it can never ever waver.

so for him to do such actions to help this girl infront of him, with tear stained face, ruined polo shirt, and ripped cardigan, under the hazy moonlight, with crisp consternation in the air - was definitely something he wouldn't do on normal occasions.

he doesn't know, his body, and his will just shifted and had a strong urge to help when he heard a familiar yet hoarse voice crying for help, when its literally 3 in the morning in a deserted area.

he and kasumi never shared a conversation before the incident, yet he always admired the way she carries herself with confidence, while her eyes says otherwise, for her ebony orbs were almost dead with dwindling light and maybe that's the reason why he, sanzu haruchiyo is somehow interested in her, inconspicuously.

bright, gleaming rays of the golden sun that passed through the transparent glass window woke kasumi up as it was another day, another day to deal with numerous shits with monotonous routines. but this time, she has an objective to go talk to someone. she has something to look forward to for today.

but was completely shut down when she can't get ahold of the man she was trying to find and talk to. he wasn't at his classroom. he didn't attend his classes either - he wasn't at the school.

why? did i do something wrong? kasumi cogitated. she was hopeful to bring him his jacket back and to formally say her thank you to him, but he wasn't even around. and after a few hours of thinking where he might be and why back and forth, she came to a conclusion that maybe he needs to do something else or that something came up that's why he was absent - but as another day goes by, she never saw sanzu haruchiyo again.

he was avoiding her. and she doesn't know what to feel. she was conflicted and amused because how can he avoid her when they literally study in the same school?

"if he doesn't wanna show himself to me, then fine. all i want to do was to say thank you." she sighed as she walked to their house. booming voices and gut wrenching sobs was heard inside, that caught kasumi's attention making her rush towards their front door, frantically opening the doorknob to see what was happening.

"man, she's still not here huh." kaoru pouted as she sat down on their usual place, but the only difference is that kasumi is not present. and its been days since kasumi stopped going to school and attending her part time jobs- and sanzu knows that something was definitely up. although he can't find any information about kasumi's whereabouts and he was somewhat frustrated so he decided to go on a local bar to drink something when he saw a familiar figure, face lying down on a table, multiple empty alcohol bottles found near her.

what the fuck is she doing here, haruchiyo pondered as he rushed towards the unconscious girl. "hey. wake up." he shook kasumi's shoulder making the girl grumble and squint her eyes towards the person who woke her up. her head was wobbly, and her vision was kinda blurry but she recognised the scent that was bewitching her system at that moment.

"sanzu!" she beamed, lifting her head up to see the man before her, eyebrows furrowing as he can now see her upclose - busted lips and eyebrows and an evident chestnut color with a hint of purple and blue bruise across her face. and he felt that again. he felt this urgency back then when he helped her on that night and here he is ushering and helping kasumi out to stand up, head empty just him following what his system is doing.

"stand up. can you walk?" he asked as he tried to hold kasumi up, her eyes unfocused and somewhat lost. "yep!" she chimed in trying to steady her movements as she was now aware that the person she was trying to find last week was now here in front of her.

"really?" sanzu lifted one of his eyebrows, as kasumi tried to shoo away his arms that was supporting her weight to keep her from falling down. "yes, now let me go." and sanzu did, making kasumi almost stumble down as her vision is still swirling, but sanzu caught her waist gracefully before she fell down.

"hold my hand, kasumi, or i'll carry you outside. you choose." sanzu offered and kasumi noticed the genuine concern hinted on his stern voice.

she took his hand all while sanzu swiftly intertwined their hands together, holding her closely, enough for her to feel his warmth that soothed her overflowing emotions these past few days.

he opened the door's car and guided her inside, setting her down carefully as he walked towards the driver's seat to go start the car.

"wait, where are we going? why did i followed you here?" kasumi blinked earning a small scoff from the man beside her.

"why don't you ask your alcohol intoxicated system, nakashima-san?" he was definitely grinning, but kasumi was too tired to argue and her head was wobbling around as if she's swimming in a tide pool.

"were sobering you up." was the last thing she heard from sanzu before car engine started and the scenery before her starts fading away into illuminated lights.

the car came to a halt breaking the deep reverie kasumi was in, and there she noticed that they were infront of a small coffee shop with a very people in, since its already midnight. "were here," sanzu spoke softly, as he grab another jacket on the backseat tossing it to kasumi who's still processing the things that are happening.

as she stepped out of the car, she was greeted by a sharp, cool, wintry breeze that hit her face gently. her vision is still whirling and she still feels lightheaded because of all the drinks she had but she's in a better state now than she was earlier.

the coffee shop was decorated with retro styled lightbulbs that hanged on wooden ceilings, walls with floating shelves that have books and two and tiny succulents, vintage designed portraits, landscapes, and paintings and the ambience tasted like vanilla and sleepless nights as the coffee's aroma permeated their sensation.

"what do you want to order?" sanzu asked, hands inside his pocket, eyes scanning the menu on the screen at the counter, still wearing his face mask.

"just hot chocolate." kasumi replied, as she fumbled with her wallet handing money to sanzu that just walked past her, quickly muttering her to just sit down and wait for him.

kasumi just stared at sanzu while she waited for him who was now at the counter, ordering and it was not long after he came back with a paper bag and hot chocolate on both his hands.

the paper bag contains a box of chocolate cookies that is freshly baked. "who's this for?" she asked, eyebrows raising at sanzu all while he just blankly stared at her.

"for you." he replied nonchalantly as he went outside the coffee shop, kasumi trailing behind him with so many questions pivoting in her head.

"but i only ordered hot choco? and here's the money. how much is the cookies though?" she protested, trying to keep up with his pace and she noticed that sanzu walked pass his car that was parked a few meters from the coffee shop.

"hey, where are you going? kasumi stomped her foot and sighed loudly because sanzu was ignoring all her questions and she doesn't even know where this man is going.

"sanzu haruchiyo!" she called out, still dizzy and frustrated because of how he ignores all her protests and actions and it was as if sanzu snapped out of his train of thoughts after he heard kasumi yell out his name, he then turned around to see her face tainted with color of crimson red, eyebrows furrowed, and a slight pout on her mouth.

"i'm sorry. just follow me, and you'll see." he went back to her with a few steps, taking the paperbag in her hand so she can drink her beverage while he walks towards the nearby beach. kasumi just followed silently, saving all her questions for later. the walk they shared was quiet yet comfortable even though the wind was all they can hear, and some car or vehicles driving past them.

once they reached their destination, kasumi's hot chocolate drink was long gone and the scenery before her got her awestruck and her breath was taken away.

there was no one on the beach except for them, the sound of the waves crashing was a melody in their ears, and the breeze that blew from the horizon tasted like salt and tranquillity. the sky was painted with dwindling gray, the darkest navy blue, and black ink, with the stars, constellations and crescent moon that adorned the cosmos.

they momentarily locked eyes before kasumi went ahead and ran towards the shore, the sweet and gilded sand soaked her feet was rough, yet the waves was gentle and caring.

everything was so beautiful.

she was beautiful, haruchiyo thought. as her raven hair rode through the wind current and her soft facial features was highlighted by the dim illumination of the moon.

kasumi was playing in the sand when she sat down and admired the sky's reflection on the ocean and it was not long after sanzu sat down too, his zircon gem colored eyes glimmering like the stars that hanged on the night sky. its a shame why he still has his face mask on though.

"thank you, sanzu. for everything," she smiled as she looked at him with adoration, their eyes locked with each other, both orbs filled with unsaid emotions, "but why? why are you being so kind to me? when you barely even know me?"

sanzu just stared at her, unable to answer.

because he himself doesn't even know the answer. why? why did he help her and why does he keep on involving himself with her?

"i don't know." he whispered, words getting lost within the soft breeze blowing from the horizon. "but how about you?" he spoke, as he look towards kasumi who's intently looking at him.

"what do you mean? i didn't do anything much." she replied, her heart getting heavier as the moment passes, being in that place now reminds her of the past she can never bring back.

"you have a bruise on your face. you have a busted lip. you weren't attending school and your part time jobs too. we came here so that you can atleast let go of all your problems." sanzu blurted out, making kasumi turn her head towards sanzu, eyes blinking with amusement while a soft chuckle escaped her lips, stretching it into a wide grin.

sanzu looked confused at her reaction, "no, its just that, you literally said a whole paragraph there, i was shocked. you never said anything more than 10 or more words." she explained, as she lay down on the sand, staring at the stars.

"its just, everything is so shitty. i just found out that my father cheated on my ill and sick mom and he raised his hand at her, and that everytime he'd go out he'll just go whoring around with his bitch downtown. and when i stood up for my mom? he beat me up too. god, when the fuck did it all went wrong?" kasumi ranted, tears falling down her eyes non stop as she let out everything that's been hunting her these past few days all while sanzu just listened intently, his heart sinking slowly in behalf of what kasumi had vented.

"there's no such thing as a perfect family, but that doesn't justify what your father did to you." he muttered, and kasumi sat up, wiping away her tears.

"say, sanzu-"

"haruchiyo." he corrected, voice unwavering.

kasumi was astonished. man, he was definitely full of surprises and as the moment they both share together, stretches on, she felt more and more comfortable with his presence. "haruchiyo, can you remove your mask, please?" she asked, and sanzu was taken aback by her request and he doesn't want to remove it yet his hands moved on his own.

why?

is it normal to feel so fucking connected to a person who doesn't even know you before what happened? to feel so comfortable to someone who barely knows you? to feel so secured with someone whom you only shared a few words and moments with?

he doesn't know.

he doesn't know anymore.

his long, slender, and veiny hands moved towards his face mask and finally removed them.

he thought that she might find it unpleasant, and hideous, just like what other people think, so he just hang his head low but then he felt her warm hands lift his chin up, there he saw her with genuine, fond smile, eyes full of affection.

and oh how sanzu fell in love that moment.

but of course he's not gonna admit it.

he just thinks that its the alcohol with her. yeah. she's still drunk, probably. the male mused, trying to convince himself.

both of them talked and stared at the stars for a long time before kasumi fell asleep. but then after that night, the girl disappeared. she never went to school ever again, nor to her part time jobs.

it was as if what happened that night was a dream.

#bonten #bonten tokyorev #sanzu haruchiyo #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers kokonoi #toman sanzu #tokyo revengers fanfiction #sanzu fanfiction

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ren1327 · 4 years ago

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Pretty Boy Ch. 6 Final

Ben woke up in a plush bed, body heavy and sore.

An arm curled around his back and he looked up to see Kenji’s sleeping face.

He noticed they were most likely at Kenji’s house and he wondered how they had gone from the club to here. He remembered everything else. Vividly.

He hummed and kissed Kenji’s jaw and cheek over and over, making the more muscular man groan before a smile graced his face and he pulled Ben into a tight hug, kissing him softly.

“Did we even drink?” Kenji asked.

“Only a sip between us.” Ben said with a smile.

“Then why do I feel drunk?” He asked and winked, Ben laughing and kissing him again.

“Where are my clothes?” Ben asked, looking around.

Kenji stretched and was about to say something when his father burst into the room.

“Kenji! Ben is missing—” He froze seeing both very naked boys in bed and his eyes scanned the room, seeing several trojan wrappers.

He closed his eyes and walked out, Kenji struggling to yank on some pants.

“Wait here.” He said and left, closing the door.

He found Kosei sitting in his office. He had his elbows on the table, face in his hands as he shivered a bit.

“Dad?”

“Will you go through with the marriage?” He asked, looking up.

“What?” Kenji asked.

“Will you go through with the marriage arranged for you?”

“I…Dad, I really like Ben. In fact, I think he could be the one.”

“Then I ask again.” Kosei said, louder. “Will you go through with the marriage arranged for you?”

He heard a sharp gasp.

Both men turned and saw Ben in the hall, dressed in his rumpled clothing. He was covering his mouth and his eyes shiny with unshed tears.

He turned and ran.

“Ben!” Kenji yelled and followed him.

He heard a car outside and looked out the window to see Ben getting into a sleek black car and it speeding off.

Dave was in the entrance hall.

“Who was that?” Kenji yelled.

“Uh, Barry.” Dave said, looking a little dazed.

“When did he get here?” Kenji yelled, grabbing some extra shoes and a shirt from the coat closet.

“He stayed over.”

“Why was he—”

He paused when he saw Dave’s cheeks color.

“I…I need to go.” Kenji said and ran to the garage.

He was just starting his car when Kosei came in.

Before his father could say anything, he peeled out and sped towards campus, to the shop.

“He’s not here.” Sammy hissed. “So get out.”

“Sammy, please.” Kenji said.

“No! He called me in tears! Barry had to stop to help him through a panic attack!” She yelled, despite the shop being busy. Many students watched.

“It’s all a misunderstanding!” Kenji said.

Grey came out from the back.

The shop door jingled as he grabbed Grey’s arm. “Listen! You got to tell your Dad to call the whole thing off!”

Grey yanked his arm away. “Hey, whoa! What are you talking about?!”

“Kenji!” Brooklynn grabbed his arm. “It’s not him!”

“What?”

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?!” Sammy yelled and everyone froze at hearing their resident cinnamon roll curse.

“Kenji.” Brooklynn panted softly, seeing as she had run after making a discovery. She searched her phone. “I was looking at my selfies from the party. And I had taken one in Masrani’s office before security found me—”

“Brooklynn, what the hell?” Kenji asked.

“Shut. Up.” She growled. “On his desk. I didn’t notice til I zoomed in…”

She held it up, showing a portrait on what he assumed was a family photo. Masrani, his wife and between them…

“Ben.”

“Ben Pincus-Masrani. His stepson from Sandra Pincus.” She said.

Kenji blinked and leaned against the counter, his knees shaky and weak.

“I’m engaged to Ben.” He said. Then he smiled.

“I’m engaged to Ben!”

Sammy was steaming and Grey and Brooklynn took a step back as she yelled “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!”

Simon knocked on his son’s door.

“Ben?” He asked and found his son curled up in bed under his blankets, Bumpy nestled up to the pile and whining.

“Son, what happened?”

“I thought he liked me.” He heard softly.

“Who, Son?” Simon asked as he placed a hand on the pile.

“Kenji. I…Dad I slept with him and he’s been engaged this whole time.” He said.

Simon took his hand back and bit his lip. He took a deep breath and said a prayer before peeling back the covers to see his boy, red eyes and crest fallen.

“Ben. I need to tell you something about Kenji. And about you.”

“Dad?” He asked and sat up.

Barry came in with some tissues and a water bottle. Simon took them and opened the bottle, handing it to Ben. “Drink.”

Ben took it and sipped about half of the bottle down slowly.

“Ben…Kosei Kon is one of my dearest friends.” He said softly. “And we drink sometimes.”

Ben looked at him curiously, but didn’t interrupt.

“I had had you for three years and loved you so dearly. Every time we met, the subject of our sons came up and one night we had gone way over our limit and somehow managed to write up a marriage contract between us for Kenji…and you.”

Ben felt like throwing up.

“I…I’m the one Kenji is supposed to marry?”

Simon nodded and Ben stared at his lap.

“When were you going to tell me?” He asked.

“We never expected you two would meet and like each other. We had hoped and—”

“You kept this from me. Did Kenji know?”

“I’m not sure. I know Kosei told him of the contract.”

Ben swallowed and suddenly heard someone pounding on the door. Barry left, hand on his taser.

There was yelling and someone ran to the room.

Ben stared up at his fiancé; Kenji Kon.

“Ben…” He whispered and fell to his knees, putting his forehead to the floor. “I didn’t know! If I did—”

Ben heard him sob and Bumpy jumped off the bed to lick Kenji’s ear.

“Your dog is making it really hard to do this.”

“Why didn’t any of you tell me?” Ben asked.

“I didn’t know I was engaged to you.” Kenji said, looking up. “If I had…”

“What?”

“I would have asked if I could court you or something.” He said. “I love you.”

“We just met.” Ben said.

“You feel it too.” Kenji pleaded.

Ben shut his eyes and sighed. “I do.”

Simon had covered his mouth, looking from one to the other. He quietly picked up Bumpy and exited the room, closing the door.

They both looked at each other and laughed.

Ben started crying again. “This is so crazy. How did they even make a contract drunk?”

“I know, right?” Kenji said.

He sat next to Ben and hugged him close. Ben sighed and leaned into his chest.

“Hey.” He said softly.

“Mm?”

“Do we have to get married right now?” Ben asked.

Kenji got back on the floor, on one knee. Ben laughed softly as he took his hands.

“Ben Pincus-Masrani. Over the last two weeks I have found you to be an adorable crybaby who can kick my ass at bowling, making drinks and having good taste—”

“Including you?” Ben asked.

“It was implied.” Kenji said with a grin. “But…I also found you sweet, brave and just…amazing. I really love you. So, can we stay like this until we graduate?”

“Engaged slash dating?” Ben asked.

“Engaged slash dating.” Kenji said.

Ben nodded and slid off the bed to kiss Kenji.

“Yes.” Ben whispered and kissed him.

“I can’t believe I’d see the day.” Brooklynn as Kenji and Ben stood for a picture in their white suits.

“It’s just an engagement party.” Yaz said. “I already know the wedding is gonna be crazy!”

“Oh, Ben!” Candy said and hugged her future son-in-law. “Happy birthday, Baby!”

Kosei smiled. “Thank you for being so patient with my son and this misunderstanding.”

Ben hugged both Kons and nodded. “It’s fine. I’m glad all this happened. Sorry this party came like, three years late.”

“Oh, Baby, don’t worry.” Candy said. “Kenji’s been busting his butt for this and I’m kinda glad. Are you okay with being outed as a Masrani?”

“It was bound to happen. I’m just glad I could give my exclusive to the most famous reporter out there.” He said and winked at Brooklynn.

The pink haired journalist winked back.

“Ben, Ben!” Carmen yelled; her little arms outstretched for him. Bumpy followed the little girl everywhere, both becoming attached from the moment they met.

Ben picked up the little girl as Kenji picked up the pint-sized corgi. Carmen nuzzled Ben and then made grabby hands for Kenji and Bumpy.

“Congratulations on your engagement and birthday.” Santi said, Sammy running forward to hug Ben.

She whirled on Kenji when Brooklynn took Carmen and Bumpy jumped away from him.

“And you! You better be the best husband when the time comes.”

“I will.” Kenji said, hugging Ben from behind. “I can’t risk losing my Ben.”

Darius smiled and put an arm around Brooklynn’s shoulders.

Zia and Franklyn came to talk to Ben next and Kenji shook hands with Ajay and Roland Tembo.

After a few hours, and a lot of cake, Ben and Kenji left to their two story house they had been living in for the last year. Kenji lifted Ben in a bridal carry and carried him in through the door.

“Do you have to do that every time?” Ben asked.

“Don’t have to.” Kenji said. “Want to.”

“Good. Now, for your engagement present.” Ben said as he stood up. “Bumpy’s with your sister for the night.”

“Yes?”

“Well?” Ben asked. “Unwrap me.”

Kenji gathered Ben in his arms and kissed him.

“I love you, Kenji.” He whispered.

“I love you too, Pretty Boy.” He said as Ben laughed and pulled him into another kiss.

#ben pincus #kenji kon #jw bumpy #jw brooklynn #darius bowman #sammy gutierrez #yaz fadoula #jw benji #jw fanfic #jwcc #jurassic world camp cretaceous #camp cretaceous #camp cretaceous pretty boy #camp cretaceous fanfic

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

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1. What is your favorite shade of blue? Pastel blue, teal, Tiffany blue, baby blue, powder blue, sky blue, turquoise. 2. When's the last time you bought something just because? I bought some room sprays and hand sanitizers from this place that makes Disneyland/World scented things because I was missing Disney and wanted to bring some of it to my house. 3. What Ozzy lyric describes you best? I only know Crazy Train and I mean, I do feel like I’m on a crazy train. 4. When was the last time you went for a walk without a specific destination in mind? I don’t do that. 5. Do you daydream? Yeah. My mind wanders and I zone out a lot.

6. What was your last daydream about? Random stuff. 7. Ever won the lottery? No, I wish. 8. How much did you get for your high school graduation? I think around $300 and my parents my threw me a nice graduation party. 9. What was the most important decision you made that screwed up your life the most? Not taking care of/putting off some things and neglecting myself. 10. Do you know what your Chinese horoscope is? Nope. 11. What is love really about? Encouragement, support, growth. 12. What's the most you ever made in a year? I’ve never had a job. 13. Do you have an online diary? You’re lookin’ at it. 14. What's the biggest pot you've won in poker? I’ve never played poker. 15. What's your most prized possession? I love all my things. 16. What Metallica lyric most describes your life? I don’t listen to Metallica. 17. Ever been to Ozzfest? No. I take it you’re an Ozzy fan. 18. How many concerts have you been to? I think I’ve been to 7. 19. Which one was your favorite? All of them were fun, but the Jonas Brothers concerts and the Green Day concert were my favorites. 20. What shade of purple most describes your feelings right now? I don’t know. 21. Pick a shade of a color. Now describe it to me and name it. Nah. 22. Sun tea or brewed tea? My mom used to make sun tea during the summers growing up, which I liked. I haven’t had that since then. Nowadays I just throw a tea bag in a cup of hot water and let it steep for a few minutes. 23. What's the most illegal thing you've done? I haven’t done anything serious. 24. Ever get busted by the cops? What for? No. 25. What's under your bed? Nothing. 26. Vacuum or dustbuster? Vacuum. 27. How many people are on your buddy list? Aw, the days of AIM. 28. How many pairs of rollerblades do/did you own? I’ve never owned a pair of rollerblades. 29. Ever wear out a CD? What was it? No. 30. What's your favorite card game? I like card games like Uno, Apples to Apples, and Cards Against Humanity. 31. Who was the most annoying person you've talked to on the phone? I’m not a fan of talking on the phone in general. 32. What's your favorite fast food meal? Wingstop’s boneless garlic parm and lemon pepper wings with their ranch and a a side of lemon pepper sauce. 33. Where is the best restaurant you've ever eaten in at? This Mongolian BBQ place was my favorite back when I could eat spicy food. 34. Lamb chops or pork chops? Neither. 35. How many roses have you received/given? I’ve never received or given roses. 36. When's the last time you mowed the lawn? Never. 37. Washed your car? I’ve never had a car since I don’t drive. I have participated in several car wash fundraising events for Girl Scouts and the psych club I was in in community college, though. 38. Ever have a tornado in your town? No, thankfully we don’t get tornadoes. --- 40. What state is your wardrobe in? Uh, it’s fine? 41. What's the last article of clothing you bought? A cute Valentine’s Day themed Baby Yoda shirt from Boxlunch. 42. How many trash cans can you see right now? One. 43. If you HAD to pick ONE song to listen to for the rest of your life, and that would be the only song you ever heard, what would it be? Ah, I don’t know. 44. Ever heard of Shinedown? Yeah. 45. They rock, don't they? I only know one of their songs and I don’t really care for it much. 46. What size is your bed? It’s a full. 47. When's the last time you had pigs in a blanket? I have no idea. It’s been several years. I don’t particularly care for those. 48. Have you ever painted the ceilings in your home? No. We haven’t painted anywhere in this house. 49. What does your lawn furniture consist of? We just have a bench in the backyard. 50. Ever live off of canned soup and ramen noodles for weeks at a time? I do have my nightly bowl of ramen, but it’s not the only thing I eat. 51. What flavor of jelly are you? *shrug* 52. Ever take any of those online personality quizzes? I’ve taken several. 53. What musical group/artist do you love, but hide from other people? I don’t hide any of the musical artists or bands that I’m into. 54. What's on the floor in your bedroom? Nothing. 55. What is the first meal you remember eating? Pfft, I have no idea. 56. Ever been to a drive in? Yeah, a few times. I wish those would make a big comeback. 57. What was the first movie you ever saw? I don’t remember. 56. What's in your keepsake box/scrapbook? I don’t have like a designated box and I don’t have a scrapbook, but I’ve kept a lot of things throughout my life and a ton of photos all stored away in various places. 57. Describe your first date. It was dinner and a movie. 58. Would you recognize most of your classmates 5 years after graduation? Not from my college graduations. 59. What percentile of your class were you in? I have no idea. 60. When was the last time it rained while the sun was shining? I don’t recall. 61. What did you score on your SATs? I never took the SATs. 62. When was the last time you saw a rainbow? It’s been several years. 63. Name your favorite artist/song from before 1990. I have many favorites. 64. Do you think there should be new genres of music to encompass some of the newer rock performers out now? I don’t know, man. 65. What colors is your lava lamp? I don’t have a lava lamp. I did have one as a kid, though. I think it was blue. 66. What's the strangest thing you've ever hung on the wall? I haven’t hung up anything strange. 67. When's the last time you did laundry? My laundry was done a few days ago. 68. How many hammers do you own? I don’t personally have any hammers, but my dad does. I could use one of his if I needed to. 69. Can you name every place you've ever had sex? Yeah, nowhere. 70. How many speakers are in your bedroom? My laptop, TV, iPhone, and my Nintendo Switch. 71. DVD or VHS? I just watch movies through a streaming service. 72. What's the most important thing you ever lost and never found again? Myself? Lost her a few years ago...still haven’t found her. 73. What forms of birth control have you used? Abstinence (I’m a virgin). 74. How many webpages have you created, and can you still find them all? I’ve made a few back in the day, but no I don’t remember any of them. 75. You have .30 in two coins. One of them is not a nickel. What are they? One of them is not a nickel, but the other one is. 76. What's your pet peeve when cleaning the house? I don’t enjoy cleaning in general. 77. Do you use sponges or dishcloths when doing the dishes? We use a dish washing brush. 78. How many people are in your family portrait? Four. 79. How many times have you moved? A few, but only once that I’m old enough to remember. 80. Handcuffs or rope :D? Neither. 81. What season best describes your temperament? Whatever one best goes along with irritability and moodiness. 82. What's the last thing you had to drink? Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink. 83. Ever been so drunk you blacked out? No, but parts of my memory from one night when I got too drunk are spotty. 84. What's your favorite song on the top twenty right now? I don’t even know what the top 20 is right now. I haven’t been listening to music. 85. What do your light fixtures look like? I have a ceiling lamp and a floor lamp. 86. How many jobs have you held for more than a month? I haven’t had a job. 87. Ever punched a wall? No. 88. When's the last time you really lost your temper? It’s been a long time. 89. How do you cope? Good question. 90. What's your antidrug? My go-to distractions ASMR, watching YouTube videos, scrolling through Tumblr, checking my social medias, doing surveys, reading, watching TV, coloring, sleeping... 91. Ever grown any plants before? What were they? Nope. 92. Ever own a director chair? No. 93. When was the last time you camped out? Never. I have no interest in camping. 94. Went swimming? It’s been like 7 years now since I last went swimming. 95. Went fishing? I’ve only done it once and very briefly. 96. Oust or Glade and why? Glade. 97. Ever thought you (or a girlfriend) were pregnant, but it was a false alarm? Nope. 98. If 97 is yes, were you glad or sad? -- 99. Do you have a red-eye mouse or one with a ball? I don’t have a mouse, I use the trackpad on my laptop. 100. What do your doorstops look like? Uhh those springy ones. I don’t know how else to describe it. The ones that make a lot of noise if you accidentally bump into it. 101. What was the last conversation you had with someone before they died? I was by my grandpa’s side when he died and I was just telling him how much I loved him, thanked him for everything, and comforted him; letting him know it was okay to go. 102. What do your drinking glasses look like? We have various glasses and mugs. 103. How many bottles/containers are in your medicine cabinet? We don’t have a medicine cabinet, but we have a medicine drawer full of various medications. 104. How many funerals have you been to? Three. 105. How many states have you been to? Five, including my own.

106. What was the last bug you killed and what did you use? A gnat. I just swatted it. 107. What does your country need right now? Unity. 108. Are you creative? I wish I was. I don’t have any creativity, artistic abilities, or good ideas. 109. How so? -- 110. How many computers in your household? Two. 111. Ever help to solve a crime? No. 112. Who is in the picture frame on your bedside table? I don’t have any photos on my bedside table. 113. How many CDs does your player hold? I don’t have a CD player. I haven’t had one in many years. 114. What is one thing you'd like to do before you die? Get my shit together and do something with my life. 115. Do the good die young or do they die before they have a chance to be bad? That seems to imply that everyone ends up bad. 116. What's your favorite totally cliche' saying? Blah. 117. Ever go out of your way to exact revenge on someone? No. I’m not a vengeful person. 118. Was it worth it? I don’t think it would ever be worth it. 119. Ever get pulled over by the cops and get away without a ticket? I don’t even drive, so no. 120. What's the weather like right now? It’s currently 50F. 121. What was your first legal alcoholic drink? Tequila shots. 122. Do you have a door/doorknob to your room? Yes. 123. Name one thing you regret? I have a few regrets. :/ 124. Ever get published by one of those poetry groups? No. I don’t even write poetry. 125. What's the furthest distance you've moved? Across town. 126. How many friends from high school/college do you still talk to? None anymore... 127. Where is your home/heart right now? Right here. 128. What's the most expensive things your parents ever bought you? Many things throughout my life and even still. 129. What's the most expensive thing you've bought? My first MacBook back in 2009. 130. How many hangers are in your closet? Uh, a lot. I’m not counting. 131. If you died right now, would you feel cheated or happy? I haven’t accomplished anything. :/ 132. How many times did you intentionally start to commit suicide? Zero. 133. Ever spent the night in the "loony bin?" Don’t call it that, first of all, and no. 134. What's wrong with society? Ignorance, close-mindedness, greed, hate, violence... 135. How many crazy ice cream trucks are in your area? Uh, I’ve never considered any of them to be crazy. Anyway, lately there’s been an ice cream truck coming through my neighborhood, which is is the first in many years. What a random time, though. 136. What is your favorite cover song? I love the cover of George Michael’s, Fast Love, that Adele performed at an award show after he died in honor of him. I always describe it as hauntingly beautiful. It was just so good. I wish she would have released a studio version of it. 137. Does the weather ever seem to reflect your mood eerily? I’m always moody, so when it’s rainy and gloomy it does. 138. Are you more psychic than most people? I don’t believe in psychic abilities. 139. What's your inspiration? I don’t know. :/ 140. What's the longest relationship you've been in? Whatever it was Joseph and I had lasted 3 years, which is longer than technically the only relationship I had that lasted just a few months. What I had with Joseph felt more like one as well in a lot of ways. 141. Did you ever drop out of school? No. 142. Ever raise a child that wasn't your own for more than 3 months? No. 143. What is your favorite piece of jewelry? Probably the stuff I have with birthstone. 144. Ever help someone cheat on someone else? Absolutely not. 145. Are you a cheater too? No. 146. What was the last dessert type food you've eaten? I had some mini funfetti muffins yesterday. 147. Fill in the blank: I'm a ________aholic. Coffeeholic. 148. When's the last time you went to a hairdresser/salon? Last February. I’ve over a year due now. 149. Strangest medical procedure ever performed on you? I had to wear this thing called a halo, which is a weird thing that gets drilled into the front of your head (I have two tiny circular scars above each eyebrow from that) and on the back are some weights attached to it that hang down. It was put on after my spinal fusion surgery and is meant to keep your back straight and things in place. It was awful. And heavy. When it was removed I had to wear a neck brace for a bit because my neck was weak. 150. Do you own any appliances? Yeah, we have several appliances. 151. Do you have an "egg crate" on your bed? Yes. 153. Last time you went to the laundromat? I remember tagging along as a kid with my grandma before. 154. How many hinges are on your front door? I’m not sure. 155. Can I be done yet? Yeah, I think you’re good.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #long survey

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lizzie-boo · 5 years ago

Text

Busting You Out-Ficmas Day 6

George Weasley x Reader

Words: 930

A/N: This is short and shitty like usual. I wish I had done better but I just wanted to get it posted in time. Hopefully, some of you like it.

The portrait hole swung open, slamming into the wall with force. Your boyfriend came rushing in and slipped into the spot next to you. Laying his arm on the back of the couch he looked at you.

“What is it George?” you ask.

“Well, I heard that a certain someone isn’t going home for Christmas this year.” His hand finds its way to your shoulder and begins to gently rub it.

“Yeah my parents have to go out of town for work and thought it would be better that I stayed here for the holiday so that I wasn’t as lonely,” you tell him while leaning back into his arm.

“What would you say if I told you I had a better plan for how you should spend break?” he questions.

“And what exactly is that plan?” You quirk an eyebrow, making George laugh.

“So babe, I might’ve asked mum if you could come home with us and she might’ve been very excited about the idea and said you could stay.” He beams while waiting for your reaction.

“I would love to spend Christmas with you, Georgie.” You plant a kiss on his cheek and he cups your face to give you a proper kiss.

You pull away only when Ron interrupts, “Get a room, you’re disgusting.”

“Oh Ronnikins I fully plan on that,” he jokes causing his younger brother to cringe. You blush at the statement and hide your face in his shirt. He plays with a strand of your hair while smirking at everyone who was watching the interaction.

The days leading up to break seemed to drag by. Classes seemed to get longer and the homework had gotten harder. By the time it’s time to board the Hogwarts Express you’re exhausted and in need of a relaxing break. Something you know is rather hard to get in the Weasley household. While you knew it was going to be hectic you wouldn’t have it any other way. A hectic holiday was better than a boring one spent alone in the common room reading.

Looking out the window as the train pulled into the station you saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley waiting for their children and the few others that would also be joining them for Christmas. You all rushed out of the train cars the seconds the train had stopped. You followed Fred and George in search of their siblings. Once you had met up with most of them you headed towards their parents.

“Oh dear, it’s so nice to have you with us for Christmas,” Molly gushes.

“Thank you for letting me stay Molly, I really appreciate it.” You let her pull you in for a tight hug.

“I told you dear, call me mum. You’ve been around long enough that you’re practically my daughter.”

“Told you she wanted you to stay,” George whispers in your ear. You swat his arm and he grabs your hand in his.

The first day at the burrow was great. You spent the majority of the morning messing around with the twins and catching up with Ginny. You had even spent some time helping Molly with dinner. “Come on mum said you’re in my room tonight,” Ginny says while pulling at your arm. You race up the stairs after her. She flops down on her bed and waits for you to sit down on your bed.

“So are you excited for Harry to be staying for Christmas?” you ask while wiggling your eyebrows at her.

She turns a bright shade of red that almost matches her hair. Shoving her face into her pillow she lets out a small scream.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Yeah kinda, but it’s okay cause, well, Harry is oblivious,” you reassure her.

Before your conversation can progress any further there’s a knock on the door. Before either of you can stand the door swings open. Standing on the other side is George in his pajamas.

“I’m here to bust you out babe.” He leans against the doorframe looking at you.

“What?” you and Ginny ask at the same time.

“You didn’t think I’d bring you all the way here to not get to sleep next to you, did you?” The way he smirks makes your stomach flip.

“If mum finds out she’ll kill you.” His sister informs him.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he says.

He then motions for you to follow him and you jump off the bed. You give Ginny a wave as you walk out of the room and she shoots a wink in your direction. You trail after George trying to be as quiet as possible as to not alert any of the other family members.

George walks towards the dresser in the back of the room and rummages through the top drawer for a moment. He then throws one of his t-shirts at you. After checking to make sure Fred is asleep you quickly change into the oversized shirt and climb into George’s bed. He takes the spot next to you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you tight against him.

“I love you,” he whispers into your hair while placing a light kiss to your forehead causing you to smile.

“I love you too,” you mumble into his shirt.

Laying your head on his chest you let the sound of his heartbeat and gentle breaths lull you to sleep. It didn’t matter if Molly yelled at you in the morning all that mattered was that you were happy in the arms of the person you loved most.

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #reader insert #x reader #Ginny Weasley #imagine #Molly Weasley #the burrow #ficmas 2019 #ficmas #ficmas day 6

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etlunainmorte · 5 years ago

Text

✒ P.S. I Love You ✒

***

"... I mean, it could be anywhere! Does it have a specific - ?"

"Wait!"

Nico held out a hand to stop Avery from talking. The Artisan looked at the woman and gestured for her to stay put for a while. Her companion nodded and braced herself as she hid behind one of the Grecian statues.

As she made her way towards the library, blatantly ignoring Christopher Lancaster's intimidating portrait, she heard the sound once more. It sounded like someone was sobbing,...

Nico followed the voice, the feeling of dread clawing its way to her heart. She turned around a corner, her radio held up, one finger ready to push the emergency button that would summon Nero's awful singing should something come out of the shadows and attack her.

However, no monster showed itself to her. Instead, she saw a girl sitting on the far right corner of the hall, her arms hugging her knees, her shoulders trembling with every sob she let out.

But, there was something strange about her, and that's her choice of clothes,...

... which looked like it was plucked off the late 1800s.

Nico made her way towards the girl without dropping her guard and knelt beside her, still trying to record every sound she could.

"Yo, you okay?" The Artisan carefully asked the girl, who looked up and finally revealed her face. "What are ya doin' here?"

"I can't come home." The girl simply answered.

"Oh. Where do ya live?"

To this, the girl pointed to the direction of a certain house across Avery's.

Wait. There's only one house across the street! And that's -

Nico furrowed her eyebrows as the girl spoke once more.

"I,... can't come home. I,... can't." She sobbed. "He trapped all of us here."

Trapped? Here?! "How many of you are in here?"

"There are s - six of us h - h ere."

Six?! Nico thought as she sighed and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, which felt really cold. "No worries. We're gonna bust ya outta here. What's yer name?"

The girl sniffed as she wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. "D - daniella."

"Okay, Daniella. We're gonna help ya. But, ya have to help us first. Tell me who keeps you here." Nico urged as she went on recording their conversation. "Who is he?"

"Him."

"Sorry?"

"Him. Him."

"Umm, who is he? Who - ?"

"Him. Him. Him! Him! Him!"

Daniella went on saying the same word over and over again like a broken record until Nico couldn't take it anymore. She stood up and drew back from the girl, who was still screaming. And the moment she looked to her right to the window, she saw the house,...

... the house that Daniella was pointing at.

The house she used to live at,..

And when she looked back at Daniella, she saw -

"Hey, wanna see me do a trick?"

***

XIV

***

The gentle old woman gingerly made her way towards the door when she heard the sound of her equally old doorbell ringing once more.

"A moment, please! Ah! Rheumatism,..." She mumbled under her breath and stretched. Then, after that, she opened the door and saw two gentlemen waiting for her outside. The first one, she hasn't seen before. But, the other one,...

"Good evening." V greeted politely as his eyes automatically latched onto her soft, green ones.

"Yes, what can I do for you, gentlemen?" Her eyes wandered at the thing V was holding. A small wooden, antique box.

"We would like to ask you something very,... important."

The old woman's kind features contorted as her eyebrows furrowed and her wrinkles creased even more with her growing confusion. "Oh. If you're looking for - "

"We're not looking for someone." Roman cut her off, albeit politely. He felt his arms going numb from carrying the phonograph for too long, and he felt his feet getting colder and colder as the minutes where they were outside in the harsh weather passed.

"Oh! I see. Well - " the old woman began but, something made her stop abruptly.

That old wooden box. That antique phonograph,...

It,... can't be,...

IMPOSSIBLE!

"If you do not mind us prying," V went on with his inquiry. "... we would very much appreciate it if you would allow us to make some,... inquiries,... regarding - "

"Forgive me, gentlemen. I do not accept solicitations of any kind."

"Solicitations?!" Roman began but he was immediately cut off.

"Thank you so much for your time. Good evening."

And with those words, she closed, no, slammed, the door on their faces.

The poor old woman clutched tightly at her chest as she leaned against the door. Her hands positively trembling, her eyes starting to burn, she never expected that this day would come. She has buried that past along with some distasteful memories when he died. And now that she was reminded of it once again, the memories, along with his pained, old face, started going down on her like a landslide.

She whimpered, covering her eyes with her cold and clammy palms as that familiar sense of dread and melancholy took over her body.

"I implore you. We need to talk." She heard V on the other side of the door. Now that the painful memories were back, she realized that V's face looked very much familiar as much as she wanted to deny it.

That face,...

It’s the same as his.

"Please, go away!" She cried, unable to suppress her feelings any longer. "I can't help you! Please! Leave me alone!"

"Listen," V spoke a few moments after her initial outburst. " ... we are aware that you know something of great importance to us."

"I know nothing! I know nothing!"

"Our friend was hurt." V went on. "And soon, people will perish if we do not take action. Innocent lives will be lost if you do not help us. So, please,..."

V and Roman waited for at least another minute, and yet, she would not open the door. It's as if she didn't want to listen to them or see their faces, at all.

And this only made the poet more convinced that she knew something deeper, and probably darker, than what he initially thought.

As he was about to knock once more, he was surprised to see the door finally being opened by the woman. And when they saw her tear - stained face and her conflicted expression, they could not help but feel guilty.

"Come in." The woman simply said as she finally invited the two men in.

A few moments later, as they sat on the sofa in the living room, the woman placed some things on the table, which were some old, yellowed notes, an album, and a small box. And as she sat across them on another sofa, she tried to relax herself by slowly letting out the pent up tension within her in the form of a long and deep sigh.

"Now, I see no reason why I should remain silent about this for a bit longer. I know what you came for, and to tell you honestly, I dread for the coming of this day. But, now I know that I have no other choice but to face this." She gravely told them, her emerald eyes still glistening with the tears she just shed. "And I do not want any lives lost because of my cowardice."

"You are not a coward." The poet told her as Roman agreed with a nod. "You chose to help us, and I' am thankful for that."

"Very well, then. I do not know if the information I have could help you but, I do hope that you will get enlightened of some things regarding the Lancaster household."

At the sound of the surname, the two men, most especially Roman, sat in attention, fully prepared to receive whatever information they would get from the woman.

The woman cleared her throat, and she finally began.

"If you should know the truth about the matriarch, Lady (Y/N) (L/N), then, yes: she did die in the year 1899. But, not of childbirth, or a fire, or anything else. She died due to unspeakable acts of torture performed by that lunatic doctor, Christopher Lancaster. A few from the clan knew this truth because the doctor, himself, tried to bury it with falsehoods."

"How do you know such things, if we may ask?" V questioned but, deep down, he could sense the answer, all along.

To this, the woman gave them a strange look, followed by a guilty smile and a shook of the head. She went on with her story.

"My mother was taken in by her best friend when she was only two months old. She raised her as her own, fed her, and provided only the best for her. And because of the woman who raised her, she grew up as the most wonderful woman I have ever known.

"And how did she lose her parents? Her mother died due to inhumane mental illness treatment complications, while her father died at a ripe old age, a lonely and miserable man. Their names were,...

"(Y/N) (L/N) and Victor Blake."

A tense and dreadful silence settled on the occupants of the otherwise warm and inviting home as Victor and (Y/N)'s grandchild opened the old album and showed it to the men. And surely enough, they saw the carefully compiled photographs of the couple, together with their closest friends, Daniella and the loyal maidservant in particular. They looked really happy in the photographs, with smiles on their faces and mirth on their eyes.

It's as if the photographs contained their bliss and showed the happiest days of their lives away from their troubles.

However, happy or troubled, the lover's grandchild and her photographs only raised even more questions than answers.

"Avery is not aware of this." Roman uttered as he took a closer look at the photographs. "You are related to her, and she didn't know this! Why didn't you tell her anything?"

"It was never my own choice to share the truth." The grandchild answered. "Miss Avery Edwards is the grandchild of my eldest sister, who was the only one who claimed territory of the (L/N) mansion. Or was it called the Lancaster mansion now? I can't really tell."

"Would you kindly tell us why?" V carefully asked her, letting Roman browse through the old photos for a while.

"Of course. As you may have very well guessed, my mother doesn't want anything to do with the history of the mansion, and the mansion, itself. Or rather, it was the wish of the woman who raised her - Lady Daniella Carrizales. And I would not have known about all of this unspeakable tragedy if it weren't for my, should I say, constant meddling regarding the things that my mother and Lady Daniella were hiding for such a long time.

"That fateful night, my grandmother's loyal servant escaped Lancaster's clutches and went to Lady Daniella to tell her the news of the doctor's crimes to her best friend. At first, she refused, as she was too afraid to stand against the infamous doctor. But, she had no other choice. She, then, rushed towards Victor Blake's American residence near Red Grave to ask him for help.

"It really seemed like a mistake, for the English poet had already settled down with the American woman who he was married with after his and my grandmother's separation." The old woman cleared her throat, feeling very uncomfortable with the tale she was sharing. She sighed, and went on. "You see, by the time my grandmother and Lancaster were married, Victor Blake burned all of the letters and photographs that reminded him of his old lover. The little notes, the scribbles, everything. He really loathed her for her decision to marry Lancaster.

"But, Lady Daniella would not be swayed despite this. Something made him change his mind. And when he finally went back to the mansion to see her, she was,..."

The old woman stopped talking. She bowed her head, her chest heaving due to the heavy breaths she's taking as if she's hyperventilating.

"Are you alright?" Roman worriedly asked her.

The woman held up a hand and nodded, successfully making them know that she's fine and doesn't need help.

"I' am perfectly fine, thank you." She breathed a few moments later. "When Victor finally saw her, he decided to take her out of the house away from Lancaster. You see, she's still alive by then, however, she has become a different person entirely. Gone was the woman he fell in love with. Reduced to a skeletal, malnourished, wounded, violated, and tortured state, it seemed as though her soul was taken out of her. Taken by the evil man who manipulated his way into her life.

"He and Lady Daniella were about to take her when Lancaster intervened. There was a fight between Victor Blake and Christopher Lancaster, the ugly fight that resulted into the English poet's permanent disability as the bones on his legs were broken. Still, Victor prevailed, using his metal cane to gravely injure him.

"A trial was held after that gruesome event, and Victor willingly went to prison for harming the doctor. But, he didn't stay long. The authorities have abruptly released him, following the unearthing of really disturbing things regarding Christopher Lancaster."

To this, the old woman opened the box, revealing its contents, which were mostly newspaper clippings and some old documents which looked worn and ripped in many places due to age and rough handling. She continued as the men studied the contents of the box.

"With Lady Daniella and the loyal servant's testimonies, the court has proven that Lancaster manipulated many people in the past, both in position and not, in order to gain his license as a doctor and a metaphysician. His chambers and offices were investigated and ransacked, and they have found a huge amount of evidence of his cruelty and torture, which also pointed to the murder of another servant by the name of Roselle Velez, the (L/N) household's former master, and the son of the gardener who served that house for a very long time. Lancaster was stripped off his license and his credibility and was sent to prison with a life sentence. Lady Daniella took my mother and brought her to this house to raise her as her own, and cut her ties with Victor Blake. She denied for a very long time to have known the poet out of spite until right before her very own death when she finally revealed the secret to my mother."

The blonde maid named Roselle. That little boy,...

They were all,...

"What happened to Blake after the incident?" V asked her.

"As I've told you, he died at a ripe old age a lonely and miserable man. The day my mother finally told me and my sister the truth about their relationship, I went out and sought him on my own. I found him there, in his old English residence. And when I introduced myself to him, he just,... cried and,..."

The old woman sighed once more as she wiped the tears that unwillingly escaped her tired eyes.

"This poor and lonely crippled man, who, then, could only move with a wheelchair, welcomed me into his own home. He was a really kind person who never hid any secret from me. He told me everything that Lady Daniella refused to tell my mother when she was still alive. Victor gave these to me.”

The woman picked up the yellowed notes and gave them to V, who looked at them and realized they were old letters from Lady Daniella, herself.

And the notes didn't sound friendly, at all.

January 13, 1900

Please, I beg you. Leave me alone. I do not want anything to do with you anymore. I do not want the truth and your ugly secrets taint the growth of (Y/N)'s daughter. I want to raise her without knowing what happened in the past. I want her to grow up away from you.

May 11, 1900

For the last time, I implore you. Leave America. Go back to England. You have a family of your own. Leave me and the child alone. In exchange, I will make sure that she gets the best things in life that you would not be able to give and provide as a father. I will give her my own name. I will make sure that she grows up healthy and unaware of everything. I will give her the life you once promised to my dearly departed best friend. The one promise you were never able to fulfill.

June 12, 1900

Farewell, Victor Blake. And I promise you this: it would be like you have never existed.

"These letters," V began as he looked back at the poet's grandchild. " ... Victor,... tried to get your mother back?"

"Indeed. He told me he wanted to raise her and give her the life she once promised to (Y/N). But, as you can see, Lady Daniella refused. Victor admitted to burning and discarding all of (Y/N)'s mementos in the past but, he regretted it later. Lady Daniella, on the other hand, hid everything, including those documents and the old photographs. She may have refused Victor his very own child, but she refused to burn the last remnants of her best friend's happiest memories on earth. She showed them to my mother before she died.

"And those letters you have in your hand? They were the only things left that reminded Victor of his relationship with (Y/N) and the child born out of their love. That was,... all he had,..."

The woman wiped her tears once more and went on.

"So, I made it a point to bring these photographs the next time I visited England. I showed them to him, and for the very first time, he looked really happy and emotional. He refused to let go of these photographs. He told me everything that happened between him and his beloved (Y/N), of those little letters passed in the middle of the night, of the times they played music together, of those times when they read poetry together, of that one time she confessed, of that very first night he shared with her. He told me all of those with tears, and he told me that he regretted every foolish decision he has made in his miserable life, of leaving her, of hurting her, of marrying another just to forget her.

"He had his marriage to the American woman annulled just to take his beloved under his wing. He took her to England. Despite his own disability, he took care of her, fed her, bathed her. He did everything he can to make up for his own mistakes. But, due to her own disability due to a lot of complications and trauma, she was never able to reciprocate. She died in his arms a month later in the year of 1899. He became even more depressed and crippled with pain and regret and guilt. He slowly lost the ability to walk, and he lost his fame as a writer due to the Lancaster scandal that was forever linked to him. He died without even seeing his daughter in person."

V and Roman watched with difficulty as the old woman wept for her grandfather, and V actually felt sorry for the poet. He may have hated him for what he's done, but he realized that all his life, Victor did everything he can to make up for his mistakes.

But, he knew that the poet was too late.

And now, despite finally knowing everything about (Y/N) and Victor, the single, and most important, piece of the puzzle was still missing.

"But, that wasn't the only information you came for, is that right?" The woman told them. "You came to know about something sinister in that house, didn't you?"

V only nodded, and to this, the old woman continued.

"The evidence of Lancaster's crimes weren't the only things that the authorities found that day. Apparently, there was evidence of Demon worship in his chambers, of a particular evil entity he prayed on for success as a doctor. Lancaster never denied any of this. He even left a conspicuous message before dying. Something like, one more soul. He wrote it in his own blood before committing suicide.

"The authorities may have abandoned his case after his death but, I pressed on and did my own research regarding Lancaster's Demon worship after my grandfather's death. And I have found something truly terrifying."

She took one last thing from the box and showed it to both V and Roman. It was a booklet written in a different language, and when V opened it, he saw that it contained disturbing images of a ritualistic sacrifice that could, apparently, grant the Summoner everlasting fame and fortune.

And from the macabre illustration, alone, V saw that the sacrifice required seven innocent souls, emotionally tormented and brutally tortured as a way to prepare them for the Demon who would grant the wishes. The person would, then, keep the trapped souls in a container, as clearly stated by the art.

Roselle, that little boy,...

(Y/N), herself,...

"Bedlam." The old woman pronounced. "It is the name of the Demon that Lancaster worshipped. One of the three Demons who served under a higher evil entity called Mundus. Pandemonium of Destruction, Maelstrom of Calamity, and Bedlam of Insanity. Lancaster was able to sacrifice two souls using the servant called Roselle and the gardener's son. He died without having to complete the ritual."

"But, you said he wrote one more soul." Roman interjected. "Does that mean that he was able to sacrifice more before his death other than those two?"

"No. He was able to take one more." V interrupted as he finally opened the phonograph, letting them hear Lancaster's awful voice as he performed the inhumane mental illness treatment on (Y/N).

"My,... God!" The woman breathed, eyes wide with disbelief at the disturbing sounds coming from the phonograph.

Before things could get really traumatizing, V turned off the antique device and proceeded with his own investigation. "Lancaster tormented (Y/N) through means of this torturous treatment. She may not have died instantly back then, but I think he was able to get her soul. Roselle died of torture, I know this for certain,... for I have seen it. Other than that," V paused, his heart racing due to the fact that the missing pieces were finally being put together in place. He could finally solve the mystery and end Lancaster's torture. " ... I have seen this boy several times during my stay in the mansion. I have no clue as to his death, but I know for a fact that he's one of those souls. Nico was able to escape the clutches of death but, if she didn't, she would've been the fourth soul."

"Dios Mio,..." Roman exclaimed as he put a hand against his forehead.

V exhaled and went on, looking at the woman straight in the eye. "Victor Blake's disability was caused by Lancaster, himself, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"If I may ask, how did Lady Daniella die?"

The old woman's eyebrows shot up to her hairline as realization finally kicked in. "I remember she mentioned she's having nightmares and evening frights before her death. I think she actually went to see a Psychiatrist regarding this but, it didn't help. I think it's what actually made her reveal the secrets to my mother. It's because she thought she's guilty, and this guilt and regret would go away if she revealed the truth."

V nodded, then braced himself.

He knew who the sixth soul was! He knew!

"May I ask,... the name of the loyal servant who stayed with (Y/N)?"

"Oh, that girl. Her name was - "

But, she was interrupted as Roman's phone suddenly began ringing. The man held up one finger as he took his phone out from his pocket and answered the call.

"Sweetheart, how are - ?"

"Very funny, Roman!" V heard Avery's voice from the phone.

And then, all of a sudden, he felt shivers run up and down his spine.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?"

"What is this surprise, hmm?"

"Surprise? What surprise?"

"Huh? You just called me and told me to come back home because you have a surprise for me! There's no one here! Where are you right now? Are you with someone else?"

V snatched the phone from Roman's hand. Deciding to talk to Avery, himself, he said, "Miss Avery, it's me."

"V? Where are you right now? This is not funny! It's too dark in here! It's - "

"Listen, if you can get out of that house, then do not hesitate to do so now. We'll get back immediately and - "

"You are too late, Victor Blake."

V almost dropped the phone as he heard the unmistakable voice of Christopher Lancaster on the other end. And this made Roman go into full panic mode. He snatched the phone from V and started screaming at it.

"YOU, MONSTER! DON'T YOU PUT A SINGLE FINGER ON HER, OR I'LL - !"

"You cannot win against me. Now, if you want her back, I suggest you come over here and play. We have a score to settle, remember? Or have you forgotten about your dear, old friend? Come here, and let us end this. Is that clear, Victor?"

And with that cold and subtle warning that seemed to come straight from the grave, the phone died.

***

✒ A special thanks to @harlot-of-oblivion for teaching me the language of the flowers. ✒

✒ @la-vita , @micaelagua , @v-vic , @birdgirl69 , and @beyond-the-mirror . ✒

***

Little Phineas had no idea what he got himself into that day when he saw Lady (Y/N)'s fiancé and Roselle doing something,... strange,... in one of the guest rooms. The door happened to be slightly ajar, and being the curious little thing that he was, he took a peek,...

... and saw Lord Lancaster on top of Roselle. He was not wearing pants while she was totally naked. They looked like their bodies were connected as they seemingly trembled like they were trying to shake the bed, or something.

He was so confused, and despite this, he didn't tell anyone what he saw.

Then, one day, Lord Lancaster approached him with a smile on his face.

"Good boy. Little precious boy. Come over here." The older man beckoned as he kneeled before him. "Do you want a treat for being such a good boy?"

Well, what child would refused that?

With a smile on his face, he excitedly went towards the room that the doctor told him to get his treats,...

And then, darkness.

When he opened his eyes once more, he saw strange people in the house, particularly that man who looked like the poet Victor Blake. His clothes looked strange, and he has some strange dark markings on his skin.

"How can I be of service to you?" The man asked him.

***

✒✒✒

***

#devil may cry 5 #vitale sparda #p.s. i love you #v x reader #v x you #chapter 14 #the lover's grandchild

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gaycrouton · 6 years ago

Note

Prompt: Scully’s thoughts during “the scene” in Small Potatoes

s4 // small potatoes // angst

Hahaha so #1, so sorry I was #ThatBitch and brought angst into it and #2 I’m sure this is probably heavily subconciously influenced by all the Small Potates fics I’ve read, but I still hope it’s a little different.

—————————————————————————-

Last night, alone in a second-rate motel room, she tended to a nosebleed so bad that she was afraid she might pass out if it lasted any longer. By the time it’d ended, she had several blood-soaked napkins littered around her, and a shirt with blood on it that told her the effort to save it had been fruitless.

With a sigh of resignation, she’d gone into the bathroom and stripped off her shirt, but before she had a chance to grab her spare, her breath caught in her throat.

Who was that?

She usually changed in her bathroom at home, leisure time was a luxury, so it was usually done in haste. The mirror there was above the sink, and relatively small. This one, however, showed her everything she’d been avoiding.

When her hands slid over her body in the morning, she felt it, she knew. She used to pride herself on her lean muscles, but now she felt like a skeleton with skin. Her ribs protruded grotesquely, her hip bones felt like knives, even her breasts seemed to be shrinking. She didn’t feel like Dana Scully anymore.

She felt like a personified death rattle. Looking into her face was no better. Her eyes looked tired and there was dried blood all over her nose.

Deciding she couldn’t face herself anymore, she quickly splashed water on her face, the red running clockwise down the sink reminding her of the time she had left slipping away from her. She had to brush her teeth twice to get the taste of iron out of her mouth from the rivulets that’d caught on her lip. Part of her hesitated though because it was one of the first times she remembered tasting something that the meds didn’t dull.

Then, with a sigh, she pulled her spare shirt over head and ignored the way it sexlessly draped over her, nothing to cling to, nothing to emphasize. She turned the light off, crawled into bed and listened to the lively sounds of Mulder on the other side of the wall. Undoubtedly he was still working. Every part of her wanted to go and ask him if he needed help. Maybe they would order a pizza while she laughed as he tried to find something to watch. Maybe he’d smile at her in that way he did when she hung out in his room that made her feel like a teen who’d snuck out of her parent’s house - doing something she knew she shouldn’t, but loving it too much to leave. Maybe he’d even flirt, he’d been doing that more often.

No.

He had been doing that more often.

Now she knew if she went to his room, she’d just get the same thing she always did nowadays. Those fucking sad eyes when he saw her that he tried to compensate for with the world’s weakest smile. “How are you?” he’d say gently, stopping everything he was doing to accommodate her. He’d look sad when she said “fine” but not early as sad as she’d know he’d look if she said “Sometimes the pain medicine doesn’t work and it makes me want to crawl out of my body. All I want is for you to make me feel better, but there’s nothing you can do and you’d kill yourself trying and there’s no use in both of us dying. I’ve had to throw away three pillowcases because I wake up and they are covered in blood. My hair’s thinning. My mom cried last time I saw her. I didn’t even say anything, she just saw me. “

He didn’t look at her like a woman; he looked at her like a half-written epigraph.

So, instead of going to him, she’d laid in bed and cried herself to sleep.

That was yesterday. Tonight, he’d come to her.

Tonight she felt like a woman.

His self-conscious approach initially had her worried, but it quickly turned to endearing. He came over just to see her, just to spend time with her, just because he wanted to talk.

She’d been hesitant when he mentioned that they never talked. She feared it was “You never tell me how you’re doing living with cancer” in disguise. But it wasn’t. It almost felt like he was pretending the cancer didn’t even exist, and it was a dream come true. It was like the past few months hadn’t happened. It was just good ol’ Mulder and her talking. And he’d brought wine - what a plus.

Now she was tipsy and felt oddly exposed, yet not unpleasantly. She’d always thought of how nice it would be to reveal some of herself with Mulder. She knew so much about him - what drove him on his mission, what upset him, even little memories he’d occasionally share with her offhandedly. Maybe it was her mortality nagging at her every move, but she sometimes regretted spending so much time being so prudent on maintaining their professionalism. Mulder was her friend, her best friend, and in her dreams so much more. She wanted him to know little things she loved in her childhood, stupid things she did with her highschool sweetheart, what she dreamed of at night.

Apparently he wanted too as well. He was being so attentive, hanging off her every word, and he was staring at her face like it was the first time he’d ever been this close to her. She wasn’t lying when she said she liked it.

He’d been acting pleasantly differently, but then “-you ever wish that you could go back and do it all differently?” Suddenly she couldn’t connect the dots of his logic through her tipsy haze. He dismissed the career comment as if it was a footnote, as if it wasn’t the very foundation of their relationship. She couldn’t make sense of a Mulder who disregarded the X-Files.

He brow furrowed in confusion and she asked, “Do you?”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at her, and she had no idea what he was thinking. She always knew how he was feeling.

He started moving towards her and she felt her heart starting to pound out of her chest. Did he mean he wished he could have done everything in their relationship differently? But-what could be changed? Every single moment led them to who they are, every moment led to the intensity of the bond they had - regardless of how tense it’d been lately. She was thinking a mile a minute as he started slowly moving towards her, that strange look in his eye. She could just turn her head, if she turned her head he would know right now, but his hand was already pressing in between her legs for stability. He was just going to go with it and she didn’t even know how to respond other than to put her own hand in between her leg, instinctively acting as a barrier.

When he was close enough that she could feel his breath hit her lips, she realized she didn’t smell much wine coming off him , and she realized he’d been filling up her glass all evening. His own glass was behind them with wine from his first fill still untouched. Why did he want her to get drunk?

She could feel her heart beating in her ears as he leaned in further. Something wasn’t right. That was her last thought before she heard the loud splintering of wood. Turning her head over, she saw Mulder standing in the middle of her busted door frame.

Mulder? Oh my god.

She turned back in shock and Eddie Van Mulder had the audacity to smile at her. She raised her hands and pushed him away in disgust, practically jumping from the couch.

She saw her Mulder look like a million thoughts were running through his head. Shock, anger, hurt, confusion, betrayal, they all painted him like a portrait of a man mourning the loss of something that could have been and he hadn’t even known it. She probably looked the same.

Eddie morphed back on the couch and shrugged. Fucking shrugged. As if he hadn’t tried to violate her. As if he hadn’t just messed up their already fucked up relationship. With a terse voice, she heard Mulder start, “Eddie Van Bluhnt, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will-” he droned on as she mentally retreated. She watched the same mouth that had smiled at her joke earlier, purse when he looked in her direction - the same eyes that had affectionately wandering her face now looking at her with the words “you couldn’t fucking tell” screaming at her.

How ironic, the cancer probably wasn’t even on his mind and yet he was still looking at her with pity. She felt her throat closing up as the realization that none of tonight even mattered. It wasn’t him. Mulder had pulled out his phone and was calling for the police to come pick him up as she all but ran over to the bathroom to have a moment to herself.

By the time she came out, she’d prevented a breakdown, for now at least, and Mulder was talking to an officer who was currently bagging the wine glasses. He looked up and pointed at her, “She the vic?”

“Nothing happend,” she snapped before the “yes” that had formed on Mulder’s lips had a chance to be verbalized.

“Scully,” he started with a sigh.

“If my statement is needed for anything I’d prefer to give it tomorrow. I’m tired,” she sighed.

“Alright, we just need to take a few pictures and then we’ll be out of your hair miss,” the officer nodded.

“Scully, can I talk to you in the other room?” he asked, already making his way over to her and putting his hand on her side. Already making the decision for her.

He lead her into her bedroom, much like Eddie Van Bluhnt had hoped to do, and closed the door behind him. “Are you okay?” he asked.

His trademark.

She felt the question like a stab in the heart even though she knew it was warranted and in a different context. “I’m fine. He didn’t do anything,” she bit. She was being mean to him and he was just worried. She was just sick of him always being worried.

“Are you sure?”

“He brought over wine and we drank it. Big deal,” she said, knowing she was avoiding the elephant in the room.

“Did he touch you?” Mulder asked, his voice softening only fueling to her aggravation.

“No, Mulder. Were you even listening to me?” she snapped.

“I just wasn’t sure. His hand seemed pretty friendly from where I was, and you didn’t seem to be too upset about it,” he snapped back. They were both upset about what just happened, but instead of it bringing them together, they were fighting. Of course.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d take a rapist trying to make me his next victim and somehow manage to make it my fault.” She didn’t want to be fighting anymore. She was tired and she was starting to feel pain in her muscles.

“I didn’t,” he sighed, rubbing his hand across his face. “I just feared the worst when I realized he’d gone with you.”

“Yeah. Apparently you were so certain he’d come over and try to seduce me like the other women that you felt the need to bust through my door without even knocking.”

He looked embarrassed at that, but before he could defend himself, she was already adding fuel to the fire. “What? You were so certain that I’d fall for the charms of some low-life creep masquerading as you that you came here immediately. Let me guess, you were urgent to get in here because you thought you’d find me getting fuc-”

“No!” he interrupted, looking flustered at his instinctive actions being called out as well as the crudeness of her words.

“Then why didn’t you knock?” she almost whispered, her tone sharp as a knife.

“Why were you about to kiss him?” he cut back.

“I froze, Mulder. He was being pushy and flagrantly ignoring my discomfort at the end, and I couldn’t understand why you would do that and I was confused. That’s when you barged in. Is it even possible for you to try to put yourself into my shoes for even a second? To imagine how confused I was when you were acting so weird.” He looked like he was about to answer, but she wasn’t done.

“Do you think I couldn’t tell, seriously? Do you think he just came in here and I didn’t think anything different? You can even ask him, I mentioned he was acting different several times, Mulder,” she explained, she stumbled a little bit from the wine in her system, and she saw him resist the urge to reach out and steady her. “You shouldn’t have been drinking on your meds” evident in his gaze. Heaven forbid she make a decision for herself.

“So you thought I was acting different, and yet you spent how long with him?” he asked defensively.

“I didn’t say it was a bad different,” she replied.

He looked like she’d slapped him.

The thick tension only lasted for a minute before there was a knock at the door. They turned and it was the officer standing with a camera and a few other baggies. “We’re done here, Agent Mulder.”

“Thank you, Officer. Where are you taking him?” Mulder asked, his voice sounding exhausted.

“I’ll have to confirm that with my partner,” he answered. He looked like he was about to say more when he focused on Scully and his brow furrowed. “Ma’am, you have a nosebleed.”

She raised her hand to her face and when she pulled back, her index and middle finger were saturated with blood. When she looked up she saw Mulder was looking at her with so much pity she could drown herself in it. “Scully-” he started softly, going towards her.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, raising one hand to cover the bleed from his gaze and raising the other to prevent him from coming any further. “Thank you for your help officer, but I’d like to be left alone.”

“Of course,” he nodded, leaving.

She turned to Mulder and said, “Close the door on the way out, I’ll lock the deadbolt later. You didn’t break that off at least.”

He looked like he was about to argue, but she didn’t want to hear it. She just turned and walked into the bathroom and closed the door. She saw herself in the mirror and her face crumpled in silent agony.

If her nose had started bleeding an half an hour ago, she’d have let Mulder help her. He probably would have grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her face and she might have let him. She might have even told her about how she was feeling lately and he would have listened to every word. That was the last thing she thought as she listened to Mulder sigh, clearly upset, as he left her apartment.

#x files fanfic #gaycrouton #my fanfiction #small potatoes #x files 4 x 20 #4x20 #blaze it lol #eddie van bluhnt #msr #angst #cancer arc

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allhailkingrooker51 · 5 years ago

Text

Sooo, I got Rookered again...

Soooo, I got Rookered again. This time at Geek’d Con in Shreveport, La. And just like the 1st time I saw Rooker, this time was just as amazing. I went up to see him several times each day resulting in some pretty epic Rooker moments, and I'm gonna try my hardest to remember every detail. So, without further ado, here’s the story of my 2nd adventure with the Rooker.

A little intro before I get to the good stuff.

First off, y’all have no idea how stoked I was that Rooker was coming to Shreveport! I was afraid I wasn’t gonna get to see him this year. He wasn’t coming to a con anywhere near me, and it’s an act of Congress for me to take off work to be able to travel to him. Geek’d Con was pretty much my last chance.

I had been watching Geek’d Con’s Facebook like a hawk hoping there might be a slim chance they would announce Rooker. Then they started hinting and dropping clues for about a month that they had their biggest guest so far coming this year. And every hint pointed directly to Rooker. I knew it had to be him.

One night, Geek’d Con posted on their Facebook page the last clue and that they would be announcing the guest at 8 am the next morning. I hardly slept a wink that night. I was too excited and failing miserably at trying not to get my hopes up. Geek’d Con is not a big con, and even though Rooker likes Shreveport, I was afraid that it might be too small of a con for him to come to.

Morning finally came, and I was awake way before my alarm. I decided to get up and go into work early to wait for the announcement. It’s not like I was sleeping anyways. This next part might be a little too much info and a little weird, but I’m gonna tell it anyway. While using my body wash in the shower that morning, a little bubble came out of the bottle and floated up in front of my face. I blew on it a couple of times, just playing around, and watched the bubble drift higher in the air. Then I followed it as it came back down again in front of my face, made a quick turn to my left, went around to my side, and landed smack dab on the cheek of my Rooker Skillset portrait tattoo on my left arm. That bubble was like a Rooker heat-seeking missile, making a bee-line straight for him. I took that as a sign. It had to be Rooker.

I finished getting ready for work and at 8 am on the dot, I checked Facebook. No announcement yet. I kept refreshing Geek’d Con’s page over and over again like a lunatic. I swear it felt like an eternity. Then at 8:03, I refreshed the page once again, and I saw Yondu. My heart flipped, and I damn near dropped my phone. Rooker was coming to Geek’d Con!

I immediately took a screenshot, and with my hands shaking like crazy, told the Rooker Hookers first. Then I texted my sister, my mom, my best friend, hell anyone that I could that Rooker was coming to Shreveport. I couldn’t stop smiling. For once, I was actually excited going to work.

When I got to work, I showed my boss, who is also one of my best friends and who has to put up with my Rooker obsession more than anyone. He was excited for me, and I convinced him to come meet him, too.

So for the next 4 months, I waited and waited and waited for Geek’d Con to get here. I ordered Rooker’s gifts, designed a special shirt to wear that Saturday, printed out some goofy Rooker pictures for him to sign, even had Rooker socks made. When August 16th, finally arrived, I was ready.

Friday, August 16th, 2019

Geek’d Con was only open from 6 pm to 9 pm that Friday, but I had been told that Rooker would be there all 3 days, which meant I would be there all 3 days. So I took off work early and drove the almost 2 hours to my parent’s house, who live just outside of Shreveport. I had been a nervous wreck all week. I guess I was a little nervous about seeing Rooker again, but mostly I was nervous about getting all the gifts I had planned on giving him through security.

I had to get into town early because I had a few errands to run before I picked up my friend, who had also gone with me to see Rooker in Houston last year. One of the errands was picking up some dark chocolate-covered pretzels that I had ordered just for Rooker at a local chocolate store in town. I hadn’t planned on bringing him pretzels since he gets those at cons all the time, but these were dark chocolate which I knew he liked the best. And, boy, am I glad I decided to get them!

I picked my friend up a little later, and we headed up to the convention center. I wore one of my Rowdy Burns shirts and one of the pairs of socks I had made with Rooker’s face all over them (I had 4 pair, and I mixed and matched them each day, and of course, forgot to show Rooker any of them...AARRGH.) That line getting in couldn’t go fast enough. I was so excited to see him again!

Again, my only worry was getting through security with Rooker's gift. I’ll get to what the gift was a little later on, but the closer we got to bag check, the more anxious I got. Luckily, we made it through without any problems.

We headed inside and walked towards the back and found Rooker’s table. He wasn’t out yet. No biggie. The doors had only been open about 30 minutes or so. We walked around a little, and then found a table near Rooker’s booth. We decided to just sit and wait until he came out. Seven o’clock came. No Rooker. Eight o’clock came. Still no Rooker. At 8:40, they announced there were 20 minutes left before closing. We headed out after that. I admit I was bummed that he wasn’t there, but that just meant I’d have to go see him extra the next day.

Saturday, August 17, 2019

Saturday morning, I was up and at ‘em early again. My racing brain wouldn’t let me sleep. But, I had to be up early anyway to go pick up the rest of Rooker’s gift for that day before the con opened at 10 am.

I had decided a while back that on the Saturday morning of the con, I was going to bring him a bunch of snacks, some from local places around town. The pretzels and a bag of Zapp's Voodoo chips were a part of that, but I still had two more things to get.

I picked up my friend again and headed to a bakery that I swear makes the best cakes in the world and picked up the little, mini red velvet cake I had ordered for him. We left there and drove alllll the way across town to get Rooker some donuts from Southern Maid (if you ever get the chance, definitely get donuts from there - they're not fancy but seriously they’re the best ever).

When we got to the convention center, I put all of his snacks in a gift bag (with the no outside food/drink rule, I figured there was a better chance getting it all through security if it looked like an actual gift). And it worked! The snacks and the other gift made it through! My nerves instantly calmed, and I was home free to finally see the Rooker.

We immediately went towards the back to his booth, but he wasn’t out yet. There were a good many people already waiting for him, but I didn’t want to get in line just yet. I was hoping the crowd would kind of lessen just a little first so I would have some time to explain all the stuff I brought him. We sat down at the same table as the night before and waited. About 30 minutes later, there he was!

Omg, I was so excited to see him! He was wearing black jeans, a black shirt, and his Atlanta Metro Studios cap. And no shades! Which is very important when one of your favorite things about Rooker is those damn eyes of his.

We waited about 10 more minutes, but the line never got smaller. I decided it was now or never and went to get in line.

While we were waiting in line, there was a person in an inflatable T-Rex costume nearby that had a sign for “Free Hugs". You probably already know what happened when Rooker saw it. He escaped from his table and hugged that T-Rex so hard his cap fell off.

When we finally got to his helper, she noticed the shirt I was wearing and busted out laughing and took a picture of it. I was hoping Rooker would have the same reaction.

The person in front of me finally got through, and it..was..my..turn. Surprisingly, I was still very calm. I walked up to Rooker and said, “Hey, Rooker, you remember me?” He said, “I do!” I put the gift bag of snacks and his other gift on the table in front of him and he busted out laughing.

“What is all this?!”

“I brought you a bunch of snacks in case they don't feed you good here.”

I started to tell him what was in the bag and that's when he noticed my shirt. Awhile back when Rooker had first started growing his hair out again, Sean Gunn had posted a picture of Rooker with his hair all crazy and called him an “international sex symbol” in the caption. So, naturally, I had that same picture printed on a shirt with the same caption. He laughed when he saw it and said, “Ya' know, not many men can pull off that look.” He took his cap off and started pulling his hair in all directions. His curls were a little wild. I said, “I know, but you pull it off really well.” He was still playing with his curls and I wanted to touch his hair so bad. So I went for it. I said, “Can I touch ‘em, I gotta touch ‘em, Rooker.” He leaned over and I grabbed a handful of his hair. It's so soft, y'all!

After the hair touching moment, we went back to discussing his snacks. I said, “I brought you some of the best donuts in the world and…” That’s when he saw a fork in the bag and asked what it was for. “For this.” I pulled out the little mini cake and told him it was red velvet (which I had read a long time ago was his favorite). Y'all he smiled and laughed the whole time.

He immediately came around the table and gave me a huge hug and said I was too sweet always bringing him stuff. Then it just kind of slipped out of my mouth. I didn’t even realize I had said it ‘til it was too late. As he's still hugging me and telling me how nice I am and that I don't have to bring him stuff, I said “Well, I love you, Rooker. You’re my favorite person in the world.” Good God, I told Michael Rooker I loved him to his face. And I don’t really say that to anybody. Looking back now, though, I'm glad I did. That man makes my world go round, and I want him to know that.

After he hugged me and still laughing, he walked over to my friend, grabbed her face in his hands, and said “She always like this? Bringing presents and stuff?” She said yes and Rooker laughed again.

I went over to the bag and pulled out the little box of chocolate covered pretzels. I said,” Look, Rooker, I wasn’t gonna bring you pretzels ‘cause I know you get them all the time, but these are dark chocolate ones I had made especially for you."

He grabbed the box, opened it, held it out for the people in line to see and said, “Aww, look everyone.” That's when one of the best things that's ever happened to me happened.

Rooker took one of the pretzels and held it up to my mouth for me to take a bite. Unfortunately, I had just gotten a piece of mint gum from my friend not 10 minutes earlier.

I said, “Ew, Rooker, no I have gum.”

I shoulda known Rooker wasn’t gonna take ‘no' for an answer.

He grinned and pushed the pretzel further towards my mouth, "Take a bite.”

So I did.

As soon as my mouth touched that pretzel, he leaned in and took a bite out of the other side at the same time. We ‘Lady and the Tramp'd’ that pretzel. His mouth was like inches away from mine. Gotta admit, I was a little shocked, but I laughed, he laughed, hell his whole line was laughing. I'm sure my face was redder than a tomato.

As I’m still chewing the now disgusting combination of chocolate pretzel and mint gum growing into an oddly textured rubbery substance in my mouth, he says “Here, lemme have it" and he holds his hand out for me to..spit..my..gum..out..in..his..hand.

I said, “Ew, Rooker, I'm not gonna do that …it’s ok, I'll suffer.” He laughed again.

Still trying to recover from that moment, I realized I still hadn’t shown him his other gift. We walked closer to the table, and he said, “What is this?” I said, “You remember last year I gave you the shot glass?” He said yes. I opened the box and said, “Well, I got you these to kind of go with it.” This time I had gotten him two whiskey glasses made with .45 caliber bullets molded into the side (hence the reason I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get them through security). On one glass, I had “I'm Mary Poppins, Y'all!” etched, and the other with an ‘R' and ‘Rooker’. He loved them. He said they were beautiful and took each one out and showed it to everybody. He looked at me and said, “At least they’re .45s. That's the only thing that'll stop a Jack and Coke.” He made himself giggle. It was great.

He ended up giving me like a gazillion hugs the whole time and then told me that I got to pick out a picture for him to sign.

I laughed and said, “No, it's ok, Rooker. I don't bring you stuff to get free autographs. I have some stuff for you to sign in my bag anyway so I'll be back in a little while. You know you gotta put up with me all weekend.”

He laughed again and before I walked away, I lifted up my sleeve and asked him if he remembered my “Sexy Thanos" tattoo as he called it last time. He said, “Yeah, I remember and that ain’t sexy Thanos, that's sexy Rooker.”

I don’t think I could have smiled any bigger than I was when I walked away from his table.

A little while later was photo ops. I had bought one for Saturday and Sunday. His line stretched almost the entire length of the convention center. You could definitely tell that Rooker was the star of Geek'd Con.

The whole time we were waiting in line, Rooker would periodically stick his head out of the curtain and pull the curtain up tight around his face to where his face was all that was showing. I tried to get a picture cause it was adorable as hell, but as soon as I would get my phone out, he would disappear behind the curtain again.

When it was my turn to take the picture, I went up to Rooker and he put his arm around me and I did the same to him. Here's where it gets really good.

Usually, photo ops go by insanely fast. Like seconds fast. But for some reason, there was a delay between my photo and the one before. Rooker's event manager was talking to the photographer about something so that left me and Rooker to ourselves for a moment.

If y'all don't know yet, Rooker in a backwards baseball cap is THE sexiest thing on the planet to me. Last year, he wore one of his Penman hats so I didn’t get to ask him this. This year, I said ‘fuck it’ and went for it.

With him standing right next to me with his arm still around me, I leaned over and said, “Rooker, will you do me a favor?”

He turned towards me, his face inches away from mine, and looked right in my eyes and said, “What's that baby?”

I..could..have..died..right..then..and..there. The feeling of Rooker that close to you. His eyes staring right into your soul. Lawd help me.

I said, “Will you turn your hat around backwards?”

He gave me a slow grin and said, “Yeah, baby.” He turned his cap around but kind of looked a little confused.

I said, “I like it better that way. It's hotter like that.” Yeah, I still can’t believe I said that, too. But I felt I needed to explain why I asked him.

He laughed and grabbed me in a big bear hug, the kind that almost knocked both of us over. He said,” Oh, that gets you all hot, huh?” I said, “Uh, yeaaah." Fuck it. I was being honest. He busted out laughing again, but it was time to take the photo. So we straightened up and I said, “Now you gonna have me blushing.” He grinned and said, “I know, it's great.”

We took the photo and he hugged me again and then held my hand and said ‘thank you, baby’. His event manager asked if he had seen my shirt. He laughed and said yes, and held my hand ‘til I really had to walk away.

We immediately got back in his line so I could get my first autograph. This time, I had him sign one of his old headshots which was him as Zeedo from The Replacement Killers.

Time for a little backstory. A couple of years ago, I got a new dog and named him Rooker. Last year I showed Rooker a meme I had made with him and my dog. He got a kick out of it. Well, almost two months ago, I rescued another dog that had been living in horrendous conditions at a puppy mill in south Louisiana. From the first time I saw this dog, I knew he was supposed to be mine. I got approved for his adoption, named him Zeedo, and he became one of my pack.

Now back to Rooker. When it was my turn, I went up to him and gave him the Zeedo headshot to sign. I pulled out my phone and said, “Rooker, you remember last year I showed you my dog, Rooker? Well, I adopted another dog last month and named him Zeedo.” I showed him a picture of him.

He said, “Aww.” He looked back down at the headshot and said, “Zeedo frommm?” He couldn’t think of the name of the movie. I said,” The Replacement Killers.”

He laughed,” Yes! The Replacement Killers! You know when I grow a goatee like that now, it’s definitely not that color anymore.”

He then noticed the packet of headshots and other pictures I was holding in my hand. He grabbed them and started flipping through them saying he was gonna sign another. I said, “No, you signed all those last time.” He said, “I'm not gonna sign all of them, just my favorite one.” He pulled out the hot young headshot and signed it again and then said something about his resume on the back. And I still forgot to ask him about clown training! I’m so mad at myself!

Another backstory - I need to mention that earlier one of my mom's old co-workers had found us at Geek'd Con. She knew I loved Rooker and had been messaging me about him a couple of months before Geek'd Con. She stood with us in line during the Zeedo headshot signing. Before we got to Rooker, we were talking about going to his panel which was in a couple of hours. She had never met Rooker before or been to one of his panels. I told her how Rooker doesn’t play by the rules, and there was no way he was gonna sit at the table on the stage. I don’t think the Geek'd Con folks really had any idea what they were getting themselves into with Rooker, and I was super curious to see how his panel would be.

While Rooker was signing his old headshot, my mom’s co-worker asked him how old he was in that photo. He figured he was in his early to mid-20s. That original 1991 press photo I have of Rooker with his soda and popcorn at a movie premiere was also in the stack of headshots. He saw it and I said, “Aww, lookit that baby.” He laughed, “Yeah, that young, hot baby.” I said, “Oh, Rooker, you’re still hot.”

He gave me a tight, squishy sideways hug and we said our goodbyes for the moment.

We snuck in late to the panel before his to try to get a good seat. My boss had also texted me in the meantime that he and his wife were on their way. They weren’t sure they would be able to come that particular day, but they ended up making it just in time for his panel.

Rooker’s panel was full of typical Rooker shenanigans. And just as I had expected, Rooker never sat down at the table and lasted about 7 minutes pacing on the stage before he jumped off and ran out into the audience taking questions.

After his panel, we rushed back to Rooker’s booth one last time before he left for the day. I couldn’t wait for my boss to meet Rooker. You know how Rooker and James Gunn are together? Best friends who are constantly bullshitting one another? That’s exactly how me and my boss are. And for the longest time, I’ve been telling my boss every time he fucks with me that someday I would get Rooker to beat him up. Now, they would both be in the same room, and I could finally get Rooker to ‘beat him up’.

I had Rooker sign that goofy picture of him behind the scenes of “Super”. He said, “Hey, it’s Super! I was just talking about Super! Lookit that expression!”, talking about the silly face he was making. After he signed the picture, I pointed to my boss and said, “Rooker, I need you to beat him up for me.”

“Whhhhy?”

“Because he’s my boss and he’s mean to me and I always tell him that I’m gonna get you to beat him up.”

Rooker told my boss to give him his hand. My boss thought he was asking to shake his hand, but instead, Rooker takes my boss’s hand and starts smacking the back of it while saying ‘Bad! Bad! Bad!’ like he was scolding a little kid.

We said goodbye after that and I told him that I’d be back tomorrow to see him again. I also said, “I have some more things to give you.” He misheard me and said, “WHAT? You have more things to do?!” like he was upset or sad I wasn’t coming to see him. I busted out laughing and said, “Noooo, more things to give you.” He smiled really big and said “Ohhh..omg more stuff?" and called me a doll and said I was too sweet. And that was the end of the epic first day.

Sunday, August 18th, 2019

My friend couldn’t come with me to Geek'd Con on Sunday due to work so I drug my 10-year-old niece along. She didn’t mind though. She loves superhero movies and she knows who Rooker is because of me. Plus, I bribed her by telling her I would buy her something while we were there.

We got to the convention center right when the doors opened at 11 that morning, and after going through security, went straight to Rooker’s booth. He was already out and there weren’t that many people in line at that time, so I decided to go ahead and go see him. I had my Bud Melks poster for him to sign and another gift to give him.

As soon as we got to Rooker, someone brought him another cup of coffee. I had to wait for him to pour his new coffee into his old cup, laughing and watching him almost spill coffee all over the place. When he was done, he asked, “Whatcha got?” talking about the poster I had in my hand. I unrolled my Bud poster out in front of him and said, “You remember I have your Bud coveralls? I’m gonna frame this to hang up, too.”

“Yes, you do. Oooh, this looks nice.” He held the poster up for everyone to see, and then asked everyone in line if they had seen Belko. I don’t think anyone said yes. He laughed and joked, “Well don’t, it’s terrible!” The line had gotten somewhat longer behind me so I decided to give him his gift a little while later so I wouldn’t take up any more time.

My niece and I walked around some, and I made good on my promise of buying her something. When we came back around, there were only like 2 or 3 people in Rooker’s line so I went up to give him a gift. This one needed a little explaining.

I went up to Rooker and gave him one of those Yondu car air fresheners I had posted to my tumblr and Rooker Facebook pages awhile back. He said, “Aww, what is this?” I told him how I had found these Yondu air fresheners a couple of months ago and that I had posted them to FB and IG. I almost didn’t want to tell him that I had a Rooker FB page, but I kinda had to. I said, “I have a Rooker FB page called All Hail King Rooker.”

He said, “All hail what?”

“King Rooker.”

He busted out laughing. “Ahh, King Rooker. Okay.”

“Ok, so, I posted these on my Rooker FB, and Kim (who runs the Rookerholics FB page) commented on the picture saying that you needed some for your Airstream. So, I was like ‘yesss, he needs some for his Airstream!’ So, I go to buy you some, but they were sold out. And they’ve been sold out ever since. Soooooo, I’m giving you my extra one.”

He loved it and said, “Awww. Thank you, baby.” He took it out of the package and put it together.

I then told him that I had taken out the air freshener thingy ‘cause it was shit and never worked but the little Yondu still looks cool.

We talked a little more and he came around the table to give me another hug. He then asked my niece her name and held out his hand for her to shake it. He teased her a little bit about not shaking his hand hard enough so he taught her how to shake hands properly but not too hard that it would break his hand. I explained to him that she was my niece and that I didn’t have any adult supervision anymore. He laughed and told my niece not to let me get in any trouble. I told him, “You know the only trouble I’d be getting into is over here with you, Rooker.” He laughed again and gave me another hug, telling me how sweet how I was. And I did it again, y’all. While he still had his arms around me, I said, “I love you, Rooker. And, I’ll be back later to give you more stuff.” He said, “Dammit, woman!” as he pulled away and I left his line again smiling like an idiot.

I had another photo op a little later, but not much happened during that one. I mean other than the fact that I got to stand close to him again with his arm around me and he held my hand as I walked away, but...

It was nearing the end of the afternoon and Rooker had another round of photo ops at 3 pm. The con closed at 5 and I was afraid he might be leaving after his photo ops. I decided to go get in his line one last time and do the thing I had been dreading all weekend, saying goodbye.

I had him sign a couple more pictures, one being a photo of him from Thief, which he filmed in Shreveport. He was like ‘Oooh, Thief.” I said, “Yep, you signed my Super (which was also filmed in Shreveport) pic yesterday and Thief today.” He told me he still has the suspenders he wore in that photo. I asked if he remembered me telling him that my stepdad was a cop and that he had been working on the set of Thief and met Rooker years ago. He said yeah, and I explained to him that my stepdad had just retired from the force after like 30 years or so and that his retirement party was in a couple of weeks and it was being held at the same place that he filmed his last scene in Thief. (The place is actually an event hall and my sister works there now.) He thought that was pretty cool. I also had him sign the crazy-haired “International Sex Symbol” picture, too.

His line started to get really long and I felt like I needed to hurry, so I gave him the last few things I had for him, a Shreveport Police Dept. patch, a Shreveport Fire Dept. patch, and a Matchbox car of a Shreveport Police cruiser. I explained the stuff really quick and said, “This is it, Rooker. I gotta go. This is all I got. I won’t be coming back anymore.” He grabbed me up in another tight hug that nearly knocked us off balance, and said, “Me neither!” I said, “Noooo, Rooker, you have to come back. Please!” He laughed and said he would. He then pointed to my niece and said that she’d be full-grown next year when he’s here. I told him goodbye and walked away one last time.

I swear it was like instant depression walking away from his table knowing that I wouldn’t be seeing him again. And I know he calls a lot of people ‘baby’ or ‘sexy’ or any of his other pet names and gives hugs to everybody, but damn if he doesn’t make you feel special. It’s like no one else exists but the two of you when he’s talking to you. He makes me forget, if just for a moment, all the negative thoughts that I have about myself, the depression, the way I’ll never be good enough for anyone. He makes me truly..happy, and no one else on earth makes me feel the way that he does. And I hope that he knows that. Walking away from him is seriously one of the hardest things to do.

So, again, that’s it. That’s my second adventure with the Rooker, the most beautiful person inside and out in the entire world. I’m not sure when I’ll get to see him next, but if it’s up to me and written in the stars, there will be a next time. I already have some more gift ideas (gotta keep up my sugar mama ways) and another pretty epic shirt design that I think he’ll get a kick out of. So, until next time, farewell y’all! :)

#michael rooker #rooker #geekd con #I love this man so much #like soooo fucking much

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i-writeandread-blog · 6 years ago

Text

A Portrait of a Tortured You and I - Chapter 5

His tongue was tangled with mine, dancing around my mouth. He tasted sweet and the way he smelled was utterly divine. I didn't want to break away for anything let alone air, but it had to happen. I was both exhilarated and drunk on his entire being. The dichotomy not lost on me. My head was spinning. In that moment I would have given anything to have him rip off my clothes and take me right there. I didn't realize how much I missed the touch of a man, but I was made fully aware by one kiss.

He completely pulled away from me and I felt a surge of panic moving it's way up through my chest. He regretted it. The kiss changed his mind. Fuck! This is what I knew would happen. He turned around and saw me.

"No, no, no kitty cat. It was perfect. I just needed some distance because I could have fucked you right on this rock in front of everyone." Jared squashed the doubt in my head running rampant.

"That would have been nice." I said coyly.

"You're gonna be trouble, aren't you? I'm an old man you know!" He joked. "Maybe you're not as shy as you seem, hmm?" He walked back over to me and ran his fingers through my hair. "I look forward to finding out your true self. But that will have to wait. For now, I'm going to walk you back to your cabin and make an appearance around the island."

He descended the rocks and helped me down the last section onto the beach. Taking my hand in his and lacing his fingers through mine, he said a simple thank you, then took my hand to his mouth for a chaste kiss.

We walked about a hundred feet and then he let go of my hand. I knew what this meant. We would be getting closer to the activity of the others, crew and Echelon. I understood. We were meant to be just fan and celebrity for the duration of camp. I had to from this minute going forward, slide right back into who I was three hours ago. It shouldn't be too hard, but I was a typical girl that wanted to immediately jump head first into all things Jared. I had to resist that urge regardless of where we were. It had been the demise of all my relationships, I'm sure. I got too needy, too quickly.

As we walked further and further towards the tents, cabins, and facilities, he started walking faster and faster to where I was lagging behind. By the time we saw the first few people meandering around I was at least ten yards from him. People immediately started bombarding him. I guess most of these people were either new to Mars or never had been to any camps/ vip's. You didn't see that happen much in Malibu. People would stop and wave, say a quick hello, maybe he'd talk to a few people here and there, but there wasn't any bombarding.

He didn't seem to mind and once it happened it alerted a few of the counselors. About five minutes later Kennon was by his side to escort him around unscathed. It was the first time I had seen her, surprisingly. I took the chance to explore this part of camp and took in all the sights, sounds, and smells.

Everyone and everything was so colorful and the atmosphere was light and cheery. I was now more than ever so overjoyed to be here. I finally spotted people I knew. Not only knew, but these were MY people. My friends. Dana, Jen, Trish, Joey, Rachel and Mike were all over by the pool. I waved at them and then made a mad dash to be by their sides.

I had met each of them through the years at various events, and together we had all become the most eclectic group. We mostly only had Mars in common, with the exception of Rachel also being a writer. She was more successful than I, as she just completed her first novel and had sent it out into the publishing world. I was only slightly envious of her tenacity, but she cheered me on and gave me words of encouragement to keep powering through my block. It was her I needed to see and thank the most.

"Oh. My. God. You guys." I drew out the z sound on guys... I grabbed Rachel and hugged her. "I'm writing. Well sort of. I wrote two chapters earlier. They're not any good, but I'm writing. Thanks for encouraging me!"

"Catherine, I knew you could do it! I'm sure they're really fantastic!" She exclaimed.

"Chatty catty, if you don't get over here and fondle me right now, I just know something isn't right." Joey said laughing. He was the funniest one of us all. I wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed his butt as he did the same to me.

"Get a room!" Dana said.

The next few minutes we caught up. I told them about my upgrade and they all agreed that I deserved it. Not a one of them felt slighted or upset. These really were my friends and cheerleaders.

Everyone was in their swimsuits but me and as we were all talking, I walked dangerously close to the edge when Mike got close and pretended to push me. I almost fell in from trying to avoid him. Everyone laughed until Natalie actually walked by me and sent me flying in anyway. People were shocked and I heard a few muttering around saying that it was wrong of her. The next thing I knew there was a splash next to me. I didn't see who it was, but I wasn't in the dark long. People were cheering and jumping in left and right. It was Jared, fully clothed. He came up for air, saying to me and only me: "You fall, I fall. Fuck her."

It was honestly the sweetest gesture and he had no idea how much it meant. He actually stayed in the pool and played with everyone. He periodically dunked and splashed people, even partaking in a game of water volleyball, if one could call it that. About thirty minutes later, he got out. Everyone was staring including me. His clothes were clinging to all the right parts of his body. He lifted his shirt up and over his head and the sounds of ovaries exploding left and right made him turn to us all and wag his finger at us.

"Ladies ladies... there's nothing to see here."

Joey chimed in and said, "That's right ladies, he's all mine." Jared busted a gut at that and went full on Rayon. "That's right, honey. I'm all yours." He slapped his butt.

The hilarity was too much. After the snickering died down, Jared told everyone how much fun he had, but that he needed his rest because he was of course an old man. Why he insisted on saying that all the time, I'll never know. He was younger at heart than any of us and God knows he looked it too.

I finally emerged from the pool and Trish, who had not gotten in brought me a towel. A few counselors were walking around telling us that there was a campfire with s'mores and a sing along in ten minutes. I wasn't too keen on either the s'mores or singing, but I wanted to warm up by the fire. I invited everyone to come check out my bungalow while I went back to change. Everyone was eager to see what they looked like.

"So this is how the rich live?" Mike said.

"Oooh does the mini fridge have alcohol?" Joey opened the door. "Whaa! It doesn't."

"Joey, you know camp is dry..." Dana added.

I went into the bathroom while they all looked around. When I emerged, they all hushed. "What?" I asked wanting to know what they were talking about. And in unison they asked, "who did this for you?"

"I can't say."

"But you know, don't you?" Said Rachel.

"Yes." That was all I could tell them. Shannon didn't want even me to know, let alone my quirky pals.

"Okay... it's just kind of crazy, if you ask me. When I asked how much the packages were, I was told 13,500 dollars. But keep the secret." Dana seemed annoyed.

"Maybe she isn't allowed to say? Maybe it was Jared and she had to sign an NDA." Joey joked. "Is that it, honey? Are you and Jared having a clandestine affair?" My cheeks became flushed. He was only half right. Geez, this was going to be hard to keep from them.

I shook my head, but was afraid my body would give me away. They left well enough alone and we left to go find the campfire. Upon arrival I noticed Natalie off to the side flagrantly gawking at me. It was unnerving.

"What's her deal, y'all? Like does anyone have any idea why she is acting this way? Last year, she was fine." I knew none of them knew because we had discussed this right after the Vyrt incident, but Jen who had been conspicuously quiet most of the evening shifted her feet. I was almost certain she knew something and I was positive this is why she was being so muted.

"Okay, Jen. Spill the beans. What's going on?" I was going to get her to talk if it killed me.

"Ugh, alright Catherine. But I'm warning you, you may not like what I say." I acquiesced and let her know to continue. "Remember the last night of camp?" I vaguely did... "you know, when we had church of mars? You went onstage during Rescue Me, along with Natalie and several other people." I did remember that, and I was fairly certain I was about to have a lightbulb moment. "Jared danced over to you and winked at you. It was subtle. No one from the crowd noticed, but Natalie did. Then he twirled you around. Not once did he really pay Nat any attention, but he was all over you." I let her words sink in. But I was obviously in denial about what happened that night because I don't remember him being paying particularly any more attention to me than anyone else.

"Oh Cat, come on! He was all about you. You have to remember that?" She added. "Okay, Jen, lets say that is how it happened. What difference does it make? I've seen him do the same with her before." I said.

"Yes, but she took it to mean that you were being flirty with him."

"Uhhh all women are flirty with him!"

"Yeah, but she actually think she has a shot with him. You can't be this naive. You've seen her Facebook posts where she says she's in love with him and she calls him her man. She's actually delusional. She thinks you're trying to steal her man." Jen looked over at Natalie and shook her head mouthing "nutjob."

"I suppose this makes sense. But to go the lengths she has seems too crazy, even for the most rabid of Echies."

"It doesn't stop there. At the last show of the tour, in Phoenix... you went with your sisters. You had VIP, your sisters decided last minute to come to the show and they didn't have it. So you were conflicted about it."

"Yeah, but I went in and left them behind at their behest."

“Yeah, well when you and Trish were talking about how you felt bad about them not being able to come inside and none of you had the extra money to pay for them to do it. Well, she overheard Jared... who must have heard you two talking, he... well he said to someone to make sure at the end during Closer to the Edge, that anyone that was with you, got up on stage. She saw him point directly at you. You and Trish were too busy talking to notice, but she saw it."

This was all so surreal. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I remembered them being pulled onto stage and how excited they were. We were all at the back of the pit because my sister was slightly claustrophobic. I was surprised that someone had come to us and told us to go up. The memory of how it happened was a blur now. But it was slowly coming back.

"So, I was online a few weeks after she attacked you on Vyrt and saw she had posted about this all, and how she was going to make sure you couldn't get close to Jared again. I'm pretty sure she's even more pissed off now, that you're doing the VIP. I'd really watch your back around her, Catherine. I don't think she's finished trying to ruin you."

I looked at Natalie and noticed the devilish grin on her face. I think Jen is right. Natalie had something up her sleeve and I was certain things were going to go south fast.

@msroxyblog @callmeasyoulove

#thirty seconds to mars #30 seconds to mars #jared leto #campmars #marsisland #shannon leto #jaredandcat #jaredleto #jared leto fic #jared leto fiction #jared leto fan fiction #jared leto fanfiction #jared leto fanfic #jared leto fanfics #aportraitofatorturedyouandi chapter 5

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philosapphos · 5 years ago

Text

a fleeting memoir.

I don’t know how to write a great book. All I know how to do is feel.

At my university, his eyes narrow as he skims through my writing. “You should cut down on the adjectives. And be more precise.” During the semester, I learn how to write quietly, obediently holding my hands between the walls of the keyboard. The writing was programmatic: a steady string of code to create tight, virus-free argumentation. I feel like I was choking during my lectures and would run afterward toward the campus gardens, gasping for air.

It’s always raining in the classics. Whether it’s the European drizzle of existentialist contemplation and ennui, the dreary Scandinavian sleet, or just the histrionic downpour of a popular romance, something about water falling from the sky touches the soul. I moved from California to England a few years ago. Upon meeting me, everyone would always joke about the weather. Even at its most aggravating, there’s still something slightly mad and magical about getting wet from the rain: from the child’s ecstasy to splashing in puddles to the bursts of unexpected showers. Film is awash with portraits of a dark-haired woman, her face and arms lifted, her eyes closed, rain streaming down her hands and cheeks: a worship of the skies and sea, bathed in baptismal rivers, rising toward truth like an ancient Niniane.

So let’s imagine it’s raining in this story: the tale of a brunette woman in her early twenties, sliding out of her damp coat as she settles into a library desk. The world outside is darkly wet but she is wrapped around the warm glow of a favorite book, smiling softly as she turns each page.

As she moves through time, she loses herself for a bit, as young minds tend to do; drifting away into a third-person binocular gaze of her own life. One day, as though reminded of a long-lost childhood friend, she glanced into the mirror and feels a dull ache of recognition.

Through a series of unfortunate events, she had become an academic. (She smirks to herself as she writes that.) Clever enough to critique the system, with a delicate list of degrees lifting her above the rest of society. The academy was a castle (a fortress), and she strolled its hallways, draped in elegance. The world lay like a lavish fur at her feet: it wasn’t until years later that she noticed the delicate golden chains wrapped around her wrists.

People will think that this is an intellectual book because its text winks at readers with graduate degrees and aspirations of Platonic cerebrality. Unfortunately, the protagonist is an ordinary human: a body of neurochemical imbalances and menstruation and psychologically complex sexual urges. I am writing a story about a woman.

Rilke writes about solitude: about the world created within the self, the infinite loneliness and the sweet-sounding lamentations of its suffering. “There I shall live all winter and rejoice in the great quiet.” Like most people living in the recurring buzz of a city, she was lonely. She often found her peace within the walls of her apartment: a silent altar to herself, as if she were living wrapped up in the pages of her diary. She hung her friends’ art up on the walls, framed photographs of her family, and filled her bed with soft, silky fabrics. She would light incense and candles, and fill the air with soft beats of music: purifying the space, making this ground holy.

She was a graduate student, which meant everybody outside of academia thought she was brilliant and everyone inside of academia thought she was rather interesting and worthwhile. She grew up spoonfed the myth of the metals, told the tales again and again of her own precocious cleverness, of her mystical intelligence. She read far above her grade level and overextended her vocabulary. When she was young, she called herself a bookworm, and when she was older, she called herself a sapiosexual. At twelve years old, she dressed up as Athena and silently worshipped the goddess of wisdom (—she would ignore the war and weaving part).

She was also enraptured by Boudicca. She grew up on McCaughrean’s Brittania and D'Aulaires' Book Of Greek Myths. She was fascinated by the portrait of powerful women, radiant in their own strength. She loved mermaids, selkies, sirens: those dark and dangerous women of the seas. Boudicca rode in the streets of her city, naked except for her long hair, which wrapped itself around her body: history painted an eroticized form of the woman, straddling a horse, pale skin and trembling lips; tresses enticingly, teasingly feigning at modesty. Boudicca’s performance to make some statement, some protest against patriarchy or injustice, but it was clear to her, even as a girl, that this story was not a political one. The sculpture of Justice may be a blinded woman in robes, but there is nothing more appalling than a hysterical female voice screeching for equality.

I don’t remember when I first discovered feminism: I only remember hating women as a child. I found a notebook once, filled with a child’s scrawl, where I exclaimed that I was so glad to be clever—not silly and pretty like most girls. As I grew into adolescence, I occasionally cast longing glances at the other girls: with their golden curls and million-dollar smiles, exquisite little dolls of coiffed femininity and rich daddies. I went to a whiskey bar recently that embodied a kind of polished masculinity: mustached waiters in tweed vests over cuffed white shirts and sculpted forearms, busts of hunted deer and other achievements of man, wooden bookshelves filled with elegantly muted book collections. It was another kind of holy place: where one kneels before the marble mantelpiece in obeisance to the power-hungry colonizer.

My sexuality began to emerge in the office of a professor: his mahogany desk looming around me, legs spread nonchalantly in an easy authority. My heartbeat quickened, knees crossed primly in a skirt, as I blushed and asked questions about the course. Lower your voyeuristic eyes: these encounters never went beyond a comment or an accidental touch. My years as an undergraduate were spent daydreaming over my notes, talking about the world over coffee, and thinking about sex in the library. I liked that momentary hesitation of surprise as I casually mentioned something sexual from my studies: a metaphysical puzzle about pornography, the liberatory rise of polyamory to dethrone an antiquity of monogamy, the darkly wrung layers of power within sadomasochism. Perhaps it was there that I found feminism: from a language of embodying oppression flowered forth the idea that surrender could be empowering. The thought was a pearly light: the gift of femininity, of submission and release—and the deep, silent power within.

I found my sexual power like the rest of my generation: by exerting a measure of control over the other. It was a prize to hold enticingly before them; deliciously unattainable. To have something that someone else wants: that is the only measure of worth in a capitalist landscape. The mouth of the cave was enticing: that insidious allure of Pandora’s box. Suddenly, it was no longer enough to be intelligent: one must be desirable as well. Like a trophy held above the heads of others: they needed to see the prize and want it for it to be special. She saw herself as a tightrope dancer: balancing the power of the mind with the desires of the flesh. It was an elaborate performance, a practiced soliloquy for a darkened theatre: one hopes dearly for an audience.

I spent a year as a professor. I recall a single frozen scene: it is raining outside of the coffee shop and I am listening to achingly melancholy French music (Les mémoires blessées, Crier tout bas). I prepared my mind and body for each lecture as though I were entering a gladiatorial ring: I neatly typed and stapled my handouts, and slid into a modest knee-length dress that subtly held close to my waist and dipped along my collarbones. My clothes felt like a costume for a 1960s-style secretary or stewardess: cleanly washed with a mildly sweet perfume, hair twisted into a tidy chignon, legs folded at a desk with my books stacked in alphabetical order. I answered emails in a timely manner, graded with a kind but firm hand, and smiled with the vacantly polite gaze of customer service. I checked my evaluations diligently and tried to be likable and friendly, welcoming my students into the warm hearth of philosophy and letting them wander through my home. They would step in for a moment, tracing their fingers along the spines of the books, glancing over at me as if I were an aspect of the furniture as much as the shelves. I felt like a salesman, smiling indulgently and explaining to the unimpressed consumer why they should consider getting into academia. I model prettily, showing them the life that they could have: the picture of success in this tier of society. I still see other professors twisting into this routine: the assumed air of authority, the dignified crown of the philosopher-king. Like prophets of an ancient religion, they share their advice with all and teach the one true path toward enlightenment: the rigor and the rituals of knowledge. Like any good advertisement, they draw others in with a manufactured sense of humanity: the self-deprecating humor, the melodramatic tearing of cloth and hair at self-imposed deadlines, the pale, bony thinness of perfectionism, wasting away before an audience of other performers.

In academia, we hide our faces under a paper-mache mask of stiffly inked degree papers and watery excuses of endless busyness. A Kafkaesque artist of twisted, exhibitionistic self-torment, a Pharisee loudly lamenting a self-inflicted agony: the scholar fights to surpass another in self-flagellation, a mortification of the unbearably corporal flesh. “Only pain is intellectual.” We tout depression as an honorable badge of intellectual superiority—the masses are dead-eyed and drunk on a cocktail of prescription drugs and pre-packaged ideology. But those gifted, cerebral children can see through the painted backdrop and television lights: they witness reality as it is.

At its best, intellectualism is unhappy—at its worst, it is cruel. The 17th-century dramatist Jean Francine wrote that life is a comedy to those who think and a tragedy to those who feel. Some scholars do care, and care deeply: for them, a pedagogical journey is like excavating a lost city, brushing dirt away from crumbling walls, filled with warnings written in an ancient, dying tongue. Unearthing the skeletons of a forgotten history, a memory that humanity longs to forget.

“It would be much better if, on the earth as little as on the moon, the sun were able to call forth the phenomena of life; and if, here as there, the surface were still in a crystalline state... In early youth, as we contemplate our coming life, we are like children in a theatre before the curtain is raised, sitting there in high spirits and eagerly waiting for the play to begin. It is a blessing that we do not know what is really going to happen. Could we foresee it, there are times when children might seem like innocent prisoners, condemned, not to death, but to life, and as yet all unconscious of what their sentence means.” (A. Schopenhauer, Lehre vom Leiden der Welt)

With the inevitable tumble into nihilism and absurdity, the rarity of the compassionate philosopher sinks deeply into the quicksands of despair. But what of the hermit, the ascetic, who casts aside the ropes of human connection? From the side of the hilltop, he looks down upon the ravaged city and laughs; like a dying man in a desert, watching his horse die before the mirage of a lush oasis. Perhaps I felt this way when I was younger: laughing at my freedom before the pilloried women, imprisoned in the bodysuits of gender. Perhaps I saw myself as androgynous: a sexless fae child with inexplicable knowledge of wordly things and a playful schadenfreude.

As a child, I saw the pillars of women and their wisdom as arching tombstones in the chilling mist of my future, the inevitable decline into the pains of labor, that aching creation of an object to be snatched away from my grasp: the anonymity of motherhood. I longed to be a maker of worlds: to hold my hands in the raging welding fire and twist metal into mechanism. When asked why I chose to study philosophy over literature and history, I tell people that I never wanted to be relegated to Whitehead’s ‘series of footnotes’ on a great thinker. The idea of dedicating my life, fawning at the frozen feet of bygone wisdom, entangling myself in the discourse of another and attempting to organize their thoughts, struck me as debasing.

I imagine these scholars as custodians, moving slowly along the great halls of the history of the mind: dusting off the tired exhibits, examining a relic of ancient wisdom, and guiding others to a particularly showy gallery of pop intellectualism. I longed to be one of the innovative elite: developing my own ideas and launching them out into the world like sleek silver rockets.

Still, unbidden thoughts lift to a rising echo, like bloated corpses floating to the surface of a lake:

i. This too shall pass.

ii. The truth will always emerge.

iii. Failure in life is inevitable.

Why have we created lives that lack a solidity of meaning? The Aristotelian virtue of striving has been perverted into a constant desire for something out of reach. We exist in the hellish stance of Tantalus: the king of Sipylus who consumed his young in an unquenching burn for power. He was condemned to the agony of desire: emaciated, shaking fingers brushing against the soft, bruised flesh of a fruit he would never taste. I never understood why the Garden of Eden was a utopian paradise—Eve and Pandora have been damned by the priests of time for embodying that trait that is valorized in men: curiosity. The great men—the scientists, the philosophers, and the poets—have loudly proclaimed the glory of the inquisitive gaze, of those first pioneers who pressed into the darkness of the great unknown. Yet it is a sin for woman: feminine curiosity is prying, gossiping, the idle chatter of busybodies. The curious woman is one who should have known better, who ought to have kept her mouth shut: her questions are barren and vain. The moral of these ancient stories is simple: obey the commands of men and remain shrouded in ignorance. When offered knowledge or understanding, the good woman will look away and choose the path of purity. (“The innocent eye is blind, as the virgin mind is empty.”)

I recently bought my mother a print transcribed with the cheerfully defiant line, “Well-behaved women rarely make history.” The sentiment is true, in the bland, platitudinal way of many inspirational quotes, but what is the fate of the women that do make history? Too often, their mangled corpses are left hanging on the city walls: a grim reminder to all of the merciless suppression of insurgent forces.

Curious women are not considered clever: they are considered dangerous. Eve damned humanity to physical pain and scarcity; Pandora released a whirlwind of sickness and death; even Joan of Arc was burned with so many others at the stake. The women who refused to be ‘well-behaved’ are condemned to inhabit our nightmares as graffitied caricatures of the Furies: shrieking women wreaking havoc and suffering across the orderly landscape of civilization.

Again and again, we watch these women bowing their heads to accept their punishment: Boudicca, Artemisia, and Cleopatra each died by their own hand. Western history relishes the tragic figure of Lucretia: a woman who was raped before committing suicide to preserve the honor of her father. Marble sculpture immortalizes the brutal rapes of Prosperina, of Europa, and the Sabine women. Even the Old Testament tells the story of a Levite throwing his concubine to a mob maddened with bloodlust in an effort to protect himself. She is brutally raped and murdered and, like Lucretia, she is marked as culpable for her rape: the Levite later dismembers her corpse by slicing her body into twelve pieces.

If only I had known before that the trinkets of intelligence and sexuality are finery on men, yet mark women out as scapegoats. A woman told me yesterday of a line that resonated deeply with her: “Give no-one cause to fear you.” To me, it sounded like a warning. Intelligent women are intimidating—I am told this time and time again. Men are afraid of women who out-earn them, both in pay and degrees. They are terrified of being laughed at by women—and this fear quickly boils into a destructive rage. The woman who smiles at the wrong time is beaten, raped, and murdered; the confident, curious woman is seen to invite her own destruction.

Academia is like wandering into a gilded museum and gagging upon the stark realization that the naked bodies of your mother and sister are hanging from the walls. Silently slipping into the room, you can feel the hands of men reaching for you next.

The kindest death that I face is to be ignored and silenced. My words have already been torn away from me or kicked into the shadows, and I have already been punished for my ideas. Men only respect other men. The esteemed title of ‘philosopher’ is unattainable unless I contort myself into masculinity. Either I must destroy the woman or they will do so.

Catherine Malabou writes on the contradiction of a ‘woman philosopher’: “Philosophy is woman’s tomb. It grants her no place, no space whatsoever, and gives her nothing to conquer... The possibility of philosophy is thus largely premised on the impossibility of woman.”

Female philosophers are exiled to the land of poetry, where their writing is derided further. I like to say that my favorite philosophers are Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath: a comment that raises the eyebrows of male academics. These writers are mostly known for their highly publicized breakdowns and suicides: while madness is romanticized in male artists, it is scorned in women.

The two cruellest labels against women are hysteria and gossip. The powerful wisdom of the emotions, the deep interpersonal insight of psychology have become degraded feminine ways of thinking. The kingdom of the heart, the knowledge of the self and of others, is ravaged by the pillaging armies of the mind. The ideal individual becomes a solitary agent, swathed in a protective layer of rights: he relies on nobody and protects only himself. A father is permitted to walk away at any time, while a mother never gives enough for her children. The nuanced intricacy of the web of care and dependency is wiped away in the blank face of laws and duties: men see themselves as tabula rasa, pretending to be immune to the deep memory of the womb from which they emerged. Plato wrote that the traumatic event of being born caused men to lose touch of their innate knowledge, while Socrates called himself a ‘midwife’—both espousing an ideology that men must be pulled away from the treacherous touch of woman in order to flourish into excellence. It is a mantra repeated again and again within the Western tradition: the mother is the passive soil of the earth, little more than a breathing incubator, while the father actively sows his seed and causes new life to spring forth.

The medieval philosopher Boethius is known for proposing a theory of time, stretched out across eternity, where God stands as Being in a place apart from spatiotemporality, gazing down upon existence. He writes often of a single woman: Lady Philosophy. Even within the Romantic languages, where declension casts a shadow of gender across the syntax, the word ‘philosophy’ is feminine. So too can we return to Iustitia, the female figure of justice. In the masculine world of law and philosophy, why are the disciplines imagined as encapsulated by the female body? And why is this female body possessed only by the men who study her?

The male gaze is not merely a visual technique of producing images of women that cater to an audience of heterosexual men. In feminist theory, the ‘male gaze’ is often imagined to be a lavascious position: the businessman watching the stripper sliding around the pole, the voyeuristic neighbor peeking through a young girl’s window as she dresses, the horny teenager scrolling through a disjointed compliation of fragmented genitalia and artificial moaning.

But the ‘male gaze’ is the dominating gaze: there is power in the ways that we see. It is written as far back as the Genesis Rabbah: in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. To see is to rule over all, and the cruelest power is forcing another’s eyes open to gaze upon the unspeakable. MacKinnon writes that women live in sexual objectification the way fish live in water: not only does it surround us constantly, but it constitutes the only environment we have ever known. We see ourselves and other women through the blurred filter of this hierarchy—gender is not a dichotomy of body parts but rather a manufactured reality: nothing remains untouched by it. When men see philosophy and law as woman, they see themselves as her conqueror: explorers stepping foot on yielding, fertile ground, eager to ravage her body in imposing their structures of violence and cruelty. Within the institution of sovereign state, her life is nasty, brutish, and short.

Do you remember the woman from the beginning of this story? Night has fallen and the library has grown cold around her. The austere portraits of men clad in greatness loom over her, reminding her that she will never join their ranks. The female body of classical art is nude, her limbs arranged invitingly. She smiles softly and asks no questions: she allows the viewer to take what he likes from her with a self-effacing brush of coy reserve. The woman has spent many hours studying the art of the Greco-Roman world, and she has never recognized herself in any of the half-lidded eyes of these soft, eroticized women.

She once stood at a museum in front of a sculpture of Venus. The marble woman was crouching to the ground, as if kneeling before her viewer. Her arm curls across her upper body, obscuring the breast from direct view—her thighs are pressed together, and her hair falls in elegant waves across her face. Art historians have called her posture ‘playfully erotic’: a titillating peek-a-boo of sexuality behind a veil of feigned modesty.

She imagined the marble woman standing up: pushing back her shoulders and jutting her chin upwards. She imagined looking at the marble woman directly in the eye. The sculpture is naked, but she is unashamed of her nakedness: like the endless depictions of the Athenian youth, her body is seen as a perfection of nature—strong and elegant architecture to house a dignified mind.

This standing sculpture does not resemble the warrior women of the Amazon: fierce mythical women who sliced off their breasts in order to kill more effectively, rejecting their femininity to transform into virago. Our culture fantasizes about the Amazonian woman as female Ares: Diana, ferocious princess of the Amazons, is often depicted in armor and headgear. Even Athena is rarely depicted without her helmet and spear.

But standing before us is not a warrior: she is simply a woman, and her body is simply a body. We can trace the muscles along her thighs, the soft rise and fall of her belly, the bones along her neck and shoulders. Her expression is unreadable: she gazes back to meet your eye, watching your movements. Standing before her, you seem to forget which one of you is the art and which is the audience. Perhaps you hold your breath, wondering if she will reach out to touch you.

But the woman simply turns and walks away from you. Her marble feet make no sound as they climb down the pedestal and across the hallway. She was not created for you to look at her: she was created to exist, to experience the world through herself.

One day, I find myself resting in a secret garden: there are stone walls surrounding me and in this hidden place, I have discovered the meaning of life. A grey cat is sleeping next to me and blue butterflies swim through the air, but there is no-one else here. I breathe deeply and on the exhale, my knowledge of time disappears: I float within the essence of reality and it is beautiful in its vast eternity. Like gazing upon the sea or the sky, I look at the world that I have created. With a smile that nobody will see, I press my lips against the small cat beside me and stand to leave. I retrace my steps by memory: across the hot desert sands and snowy mountaintops and finally to a familiar dirt path. I walk until I arrive at my childhood home. Tears spill over as I hold my mother, my sister: even my dog is there, her tail wagging in recognition. In Ithaca, I have found everything I was searching for. The rest of the marble melts away, and my story is just beginning.

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superwolfiestar · 6 years ago

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Across Another Dimension Ch.35

The gang walked into the parlor and, despite have creepy gargoyle-like candle holders, had a very nice vintage-style to it and even had four paintings: a brunette-southern belle female rabbit holding a parasol, a middle-aged gentleman duck with a pen and document in hand, an elderly fox woman with a rose, and a raccoon man wearing a bowler hat. Each of the group found themselves admiring these portrait, though they could only the upper halves of each.

"Our tour begins here, in this gallery. Here you will see paintings of some of our guests as they appeared in their corruptible, mortal state."

"Well, I have to admit, these portrait actually look like they should be in a museum." Scrooge commented, observing the portrait of the middle-aged Duck.

This tour didn't seem as frightening, in fact, it felt surprisingly pleasant, despite the fact that the group were inside a haunted Victorian style mansion with the ghost of the previous owner holding them against their will. Even Super Caballeros and the Boy Princess Donald led found themselves enjoying themselves as Panchito mimicked the pose of the raccoon by crossing his arms; causing Donald to giggle at his antics. Things started to take a drastic change, however, as they al began to feel something was amiss, but what was it?

"Hey, guys, any of you getting a sinking feeling?" Princess Della asked as a feeling of dread started to work its way in her stomach.

"What do you mean?" Huey asked, when suddenly . . .

"Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding, almost as though you sense a disquieting metamorphosis. Is this haunted room actually stretching, or is it your imagination? Hmm?"

True to the Ghost Host's word; the room really was stretching! Not only that, but the portraits were beginning to expand! The group was now allowed to see the full descriptions of each person per portrait. Only, they were starting to wish that they hadn't, for each portrait showed a sight, more hideous than the last. The southern belle with the parasol was revealed to have a slenderly build and wearing a beautiful dress with a lavender upper-shirt from her waist to her neck, pink frilled-shoulders, and a white skirt with green flowery designs that reached about ten inches above her ankle, and pink slip on shoes. What came after that was certainly a shock! As the portrait stopped stretching, they all saw that the young woman was balancing herself, tip-toe on a fraying tightrope . . . which was above the open jaws of a large, vicious-looking alligator!

The portrait with the middle-aged duck wasn't any less shocking than the last as it also showed something when it stopped stretching. Then duck was wearing a white dress-shirt and black long-sleeved tail coat, but that was only his upper-body. While he was wearing black and white leather shoes with socks that matched in color, it was revealed that he was in nothing but his undergarments from the waist down, which would have been hilarious . . . provided if it weren't for the fact that he was standing on a keg of dynamite . . . which was also lit up by a stray candle!

The shock continued on as the portrait of the old fox woman had stopped stretching to reveal something that made them all blood run cold. Her full features included a black funeral-dress with a pink collar, black shoes with grey socks, and a reddish poncho with pink highlights. Her most notable feature being her hair done up in a beehive. It also showed that she was sitting on a tombstone:

Rest

Peace

Dearly Departed

GEORGE

Along with a bust of an elderly, balding fox gentleman with a handlebar mustache . . . And a hatchet embedded on the crown of his head!

Last, but certainly not least, the portrait of the raccoon the bowler hat showed that he was wearing a white dress-shirt, black jacket, black slacks, and Italian-looking leather shoes. It was a surprise to see that he was sitting on the shoulders of a middle-aged male mountain goat white short hair and mustache. He wore a white dress-shirt, red suit, brown vest, black bow-tie, red pants, and brown leather shoes. One would think that the red on his face was because of trying to hold up the raccoon sitting on his shoulders, but what came next eliminated that possibility. Below the mountain goat was a younger male mountain lion with neatly combed hair with sideburns that connected to his trimmed goatee. He wore a white dress-shirt, grey vest, black bolo-tie, but that was all that could be seen as the lower half was submerged in quicksand! There was even a sign with the word "QUICKSAND" to point out the obvious.

Despite the horrific acts of macabre they were all in, all four of the wolves smiled pleasantly, as if their lives meant absolutely nothing at all! Needless to say, the group were beyond shocked, but could only show it with raised eyebrows as they turned to share a glance at one another. Their thoughts were interrupted as the Ghost Host decided to speak up at the exact moment.

"And consider this dismaying observation: this chamber has no windows and no doors."

True to his words, the group saw that their point of entry had vanished; leaving them trapped in the stretched-out gallery.

"Which offers you this chilling challenge: TO FIND ANOTHER WAY OUT!"

The Ghost Host then let out a loud, sinister laugh that echoed through the walls, much to the group's discomfort.

"Of course, there's always my way . . ."

". . . Why does that sound so wrong?" Launchpad asked in a quivering voice.

It was at that very moment that the candle lights flickered off; leaving the group in total darkness.

"Hey, who turned out the lights?!" Gyro yelped in shock.

Before anything else flashes of lightning had suddenly illuminated the entire room in strobes; didn't the Ghost Host say there weren't any windows in the room? The group was now starting to think that things possibly couldn't get any worse than they were, now. Well, unfortunately, they were dead (no offense to the long deceased) wrong! The sounds of Boy Princess Donald and Princess Della screaming captured the attention as the rest of the group looked towards the royalties, who were scream up at the . . . ceiling? Before they could be questioned, the group followed where they were screaming at . . . and saw why they were so frightened. There, suspended by the neck with a noose on a now clear cupola above the ceiling, was a skeletal goose corpse of a canine! It was more than likely that this was the long, decomposed body. The group looked on in absolute horror at the hanging corpse for a few seconds as a loud, dreadful scream was heard, until the lightning stopped and the candles lit back up. At first the group thought that the whole ordeal was only hallucinations, but they rethought their assumptions when they saw that they were still in the chamber with the stretched portraits.

"What . . . was that?" Panchito asked as soon as he found his voice.

"He . . . He took the coward's way out . . ." Boy Princess murmured softly, though the room was quiet enough for everyone to hear (and agree).

It took a few seconds for the group to shake of their shock and Panchito found that Jose was holding on to his arm, as was Boy Princess Donald holding onto Jose arm. When they saw how close they were with each other, it was safe to say that both couples were embarrassed by these actions. This caused all four of the youths to blush extremely.

"Oh!" Boy Princess yelped, jumping away from the Super Caballeros.

"Sorry, I . . ." Jose muttered trying to hide his blush.

"I-it's cool." Panchito dismissed, relishing how close to he was to his two lovers.

"No harm done." Boy Princess stated cooly, though he was ready to dance from being close to his two heroes.

Their moment was short-lived as the Ghost Host spoke up like he always did.

"Oh, I didn't mean to frighten you, prematurely."

Again, like he always did, the Ghost Host chuckled sinisterly at his own words.

"Oh yeah, be a spooky-wooky crackerbox, that's so mature." Gyro scoffed bitterly to himself.

"The real chills come later, now, as they say, "Look alive", and we'll continue our little tour. Oh, and let's try to stay together, please."

After his speech was done with, a part of the wall opened up to reveal a small hallway.

"For once, I actually agree with him." Dewey stated, which every nodded.

#ducktales 2017 #mariotales au #across another dimension #across another dimension fanfic #super caballeros #super caballeros fanfic #fanfic

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lovenicksherlock · 6 years ago

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CAPE TOWN ART FAIR QUESTIONNAIRE

1. In the Woodstock, Blanc gallery space, the sculptures and objects they have on display are very rarely placed on plinths. The galleries objects and sculptures are worked into the space. Whereas at the art-fair, Blanc made use of a number of plinths for work. On top of this, there were only big works, and small portraits, there were no medium sized works and not very many obscurely shaped works, most of them were rectangular and framed. The Stevenson space in Woodstock usually paints their walls a colour that synchronizes the space with the work. At the art fair, the Stevenson space only had white walls. In addition to this, the gallery like to spread their work inside rooms and not across a stage, they divided their area at the art-fair into little cubes with the white room dividers/walls.

2. Three works I really enjoyed: Bad paper Nico Krijno, The Fluid Right Edge 2017, Kyle Weeks – Vezepame Hembinda. Zander Blom – Zebra Butt. Three works I really didn’t enjoy: Kilmany jo liversage, machinika119. Distortion 1 horizontal lines, ihosvanny. Tuirya magadlela, hlinyo ngiphumile kuwe thando.

3. This year, many of the works on the show were paintings or had a painterly quality. There wasn’t a lot of installation work at all, which is not much of a surprise considering the point of showing at the fair is to sell things and installations are not necessarily as easy to flip or sell to a tourist or a collector as a painting or an easily transportable object.

4. There were passageways created between booths and stands. A lot of the spaces were divided with columns and few were made into cubes. I noticed that a lot of the photography galleries tried to make white cube spaces whereas the more contemporary painting galleries had dividers in the cubes.

5. Some of the spaces didn’t use printed labels, one in particular, used pencil writing on the walls as labeling! This didn’t look much like a creative decision, it looked more like a last minute fix. Some works had prices next to them, others you had to request. Most of the spaces hung the work at eye level.

6. The fair was almost split into three main sections, with photography booths, painting and then sculpture/object-based work. With the restaurant section on the one side and the sponsorship sections on the other. It was difficult to zoom out and gain a feel for where the space was going or how the curators wanted us to move across the fair.

7. Lighting was artificial and bright.

8. A lot of people at the fair had a tourist type look about them, holding cameras and wearing floral button up t-shirts. Prospective buyers or visitors seemed to dress affluently and even sometimes eccentrically, gallerist’s dressed conservatively and formally.

9. Most of the galleries seemed to pull their grandest most extravagant or large- in-scale works out for the fair. It seemed like the galleries tried to push their biggest names out into the fair. Some works on plinths, notably Athi-patra Ruga’s sculpture of a figures bust, titled Approved Model of the New Azania, was almost screaming “buy me”. It had its own solo booth and was placed strategically on the outskirts of the gallery space, close to the pathway, subjecting passers-by to its glamour and extravagance.

10. Athi-patra Ruga’s sculpture, titled, Approved Model of the New Azania, had a shimmery, gold finish. The work exemplified wealth in that it was an object, that had no physical function (apart from being an artwork), made up of what looked like diamonds, expensive crystals and pendants. Although the work may not have actually been made of real diamonds, the piece felt as though it was dripping with fortune and wealth. Something that someone might have in their lounge, just for the sake of having it, and because it looks so expensive.

11. There was a gallery called Retro Africa, a lot of the work they had up at the fair didn’t seem like it was doing “African Art” any justice in that the works on display looked very unskillfully made, they did not display any technical skill. The works looked like something one might pick up on a smaller scale at a trendy curio shop in De Waterkant. As an establishment I am sure Retro Africa don’t uphold this kind of image outside of the fair, it just seemed as though they were really trying to appeal to anyone outside of Africa that wants to own something stereotypically “African looking”, something that says “I spent a holiday in Africa and came back with this generic yet exclusive piece of African art.”

12. Gallerist’s and sales persons were very open to revealing prices to me, I am not sure if it was because they just didn’t take me seriously or if it was because it is a fair, but both galleries I asked were comfortable and approachable with revealing prices.

13. Sponsors were not that pushy with putting their brand in every bodies face. There was a Boschendal wine stand, I imagine this is good marketing for them as tourists will buy their wine at restaurant’s or shops after tasting it at the fair. As for investec, I didn’t see that many logos floating around at the fair. I suppose Investec as a company sounds quite exclusive and serious, art-fairs are considered big budget, exclusive events. Investec as a company seems to uphold that sort of exclusive attitude. I think that there was a lot more sponsorship going on behind the VIP section.

14. CTICC is a great place for conventions I imagine because it is geared for events. It has a large open space, it has all the facilities to facilitate large amounts of people, it is centrally placed in Cape Town, it is next to hotels and restaurants

15. Some of the Kentridge looked older most of the works at the fair.

16. Lea Columbo (25)

17. Solo booths were tailored to suit the style of the artists work on display. For example, in Athi-patra Ruga’s solo booth, the walls around his work were painted a dark tone. As for the way the walls were arranged, they cornered off his work from the rest of What if the Worlds space, also, the lighting may have been a little different and the work was facing outwards towards the pathway/route people were taking around the fair.

18. Jody Paulsen is popping up online and in a VISI publication this year. Bad Paper are also popping up on social media.

19. This year, many of the works on the show had a tactile quality. A lot of what we saw felt like it was created with a sensitivity or a consciousness towards the tactile. In addition to this, what came as no surprise, most all of the work at the show was rectangular in format. With regards to framing, a lot of the prints were in frames that did not speak to the work in some way. However, the Ayanda Mabulu piece had a frame that spoke directly to the semiotics of the work. This was one of the few paintings that used a frame in this way. It also looked like a lot of the work at the show dealt with Afrocentricity and many of the works I took note of dealt with conversations around post vs. the idea of neo-colonialism.

20. The French Gallery, Officine Dellimmagine, because they aren’t based in SA and they deal in Euros but are interested in some South African artists. Then again What if the World would be amazing because they are local and feel progressive in the sense that they embrace new, contemporary work, and their artist all seem to say good things about the gallery.

21. I would not like to work for a gallery if I had to choose I would choose Officine Dellimmagine because it would force me to learn another language really well and I would work in their sales department and travel the world selling their photographic work.

22. If I were to show at the fair I would enjoy creating a booth for independent, student work. I would show only student work and it would only be fun art.

#CTAFTASK

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taeyangdyb · 8 years ago

Text

Giving love a shot part 53

♡Jae’s views♡

Jay’s been pretty stress out lately. He’s worry about me being pregnant and working, he’s not going to tell me to stop, but he think I’m over doing it a bit.

He’s been on the set of a music video since 5AM, shooting both the video and the dance version.

Reasons why I sometime hate going on his set, why are you shooting in odd places. It feels like a bunch of people doing stuff they shouldn’t be doing.

*Meanwhile*

“I think your wife is here”

Jay: where?

Looking from a distance, the only person I know who would wear that high of a heel while pregnant is her.

“Should we stop shooting?”

Jay: no, act like you’re not recording.

“But that’s-”

Jay: I know

Simon: you gone have her on the shoot?

Gray: you know she’ll kill you right?

Jay: I’ll take the risk. If she ask you, just tell her they’re checking the cameras and are not actually recording.

Gray: okay.

*back to Jae*

This place is so weird, why is there a bed at a warehouse? Who sleeps there? Are they invading a homeless person privacy?

Walking there Jay is on the bed sleeping.

Jae:*sits next to him, pushing his hair out of the way* long day uh? *leans in and kisses him*

Jay:*open his eyes* hey what are you doing here?

Jae: I wanted to see, I figure you might be worrying about me overworking

Jay: how you feeling?

Jae: better now, you?

Jay: soo much better now

Jae: are we being recorded?

Jay: no they’re just doing a sound check and you know all these things

Jae: oh

Jay: yeah just don’t mind them, so how was Work?

Jae: same, meetings, paper work, more meeting.

So we’re sitting here talking and out of nowhere it’s starting to rain. Out of nowhere.

Jae: I have to go

Jay: where? My car, the top is down I don’t want water to get in it.

Jae: *Walking off*

Jay: *follows her* you can’t go run in these shoes

Jae: I’m not ruining my car either *pulls her arms from him*

Jay: JAEHA!

Jae: *runs in the rain and to put the hood down*

Getting there thankfully I left the key and someone put it up for me. Going back I found mr.Stubborn waiting in the rain.

Jae: you shouldn’t be in the rain

Jay: I should be telling you that.

Jay: *wraps his arms around her* you know I don’t think we’ve ever kissed in the rain before.

Jae: mhmm I’m sure we did. On our first date, I told you it would rain, you said no, the sky is clear *mimics him* but then before we made it to the car, it poured like crazy. Even though I looked like a panda you still thought I was cute, you asked me out on that same night.

Jay: wow you remember everything

Jae: I remember a lot more.

Jay: mhmm that gives me a great idea

Jae: oh no

Jay: how about you go home get ready, and I’ll pick you up for a date

Jae: really?

Jay: yeah

Jae: you’re going to stood me up aren’t you?

Jay: I promise, and we haven’t really celebrated since we found out about our baby, and I also want you out of the rain so you wouldn’t get sick.

*back inside* □Jay’s Views□

Back inside the building, I made sure that Jaeha was fully dried up. Regardless of what or the night end up, I have to make it to that date.

Jae: what time you’ll be home?

Jay: as soon as I’m done here

Jae: babe if-

Jay: I promised you didn’t I?

Jae: yeah but, I don’t want to be disappointed you know I’ve-

Jay: I know you’ve been very sensitive, tired and stressed. That’s why I am taking you out tonight.

Jae: okay well I should get going

Jay: you have plenty of time

Jae: I’m kind of sleepy so-

Jay: oh hell no, you can’t be driving in the rain while sleepy

Jae: Babe-

Jay: Jaejae no, and that’s my final answer. If you want to sleep go in my dressing room

Jae: I’m not going to sleep just anywhere.

Oh so help me if our kids are as stubborn as their mother I’m gonna need a lot of help. Thankfully the rain stop. I sent Jae home, so I could finish up and take her out on our date.

After finishing everything I head back home. Getting there, Jaeha was getting ready. I’m not going to judge her since she fell asleep.

I couldn’t walk in at a better time.

Jae: *standing in front of the mirror wearing a black underwear, bra, and a garter belt* hey you’re home

Jay: I’m home

Jae:*walks towards him* you look tired, *hugging him* we can reschedule our date if you want to rest

Jay: I’m okay

Jae: you sure, I won’t be disappointed you know

Jay: *raise his brows*

Jae: okay maybe a little, but if you’re tired-

Jay: you can go finish your hair, I’m going to rest until you have your dress on.

Jae: babe we can-

Jay: baby I’m alright, it’s okay.

Jae: okay *starts walking out, and then stops* by the way, my lawyer will be at your office if a strand of my hair appear in this music video. It’s sad you thought I wouldn’t noticed *tsk tsk tsk tsk *

Jay:*smh*

Even though we’re married, Jaeha and I don’t have the luxury to go out as much as we probably want to, so if I have the chance to treat her, tired or not I will do whatever it take to make her day.

We left the house after an hour. We dressed alike, both in white.

Jae: *wearing a two piece lace outfit*

*at sky deck restaurant*

For privacy, I got us a table somewhere by ourselves.

Jae: you look very handsome

Jay: thank you, and you’re looking as beautiful as the first day I saw you

Jae: *blushes* so you’re ready?

Jay: ready for?

Jae: being a dad

Jay: are you?

Jae: no, you?

Jay: I don’t have faith in myself, but I have faith in you. I know you’ll be a great mom, so I’m not really worried.

Jae: how many kids you think we’ll have?

Jay: three

Jae: three?

Jay: yeah, you’ll have multiple

Jae: I’m gonna need you to stop saying that.

Jay: I’m serious. I was looking online for symptoms of pregnant who’s having multiple, you have all of them

Jae: babe no, don’t say that.

Jay: you’ll be fine.

Jae: did you ever look into finding your parents the house?

Jay: I was looking I saw a few that I like, I’ll just need to have a day off to take them around so they can see which one they want.

Jae: oh okay

We talked about anything and everything. Seeing Jae’s smile made my day. The sounnds of her laugh makes all my fatigue disappears. I know all of this sounds cheesy, but I just can’t help it. Who would’ve thought that we was going to get married and now expecting a child.

*home*

Jae:*walks out of her closet in a satin night gown, see’s her exhausting husband on the bed* tired?

Jay: no really, you need something?

Jae: yea, can you go to the store for me? I need some pad, period

Jay: okay*grabs his phone to walk out without giving it a second thought * do you need anything else?

Jae: *smile and walk up to him, takes the phone put it back on the dresser, and starts taking off his jacket and shirt*

Jay: I thought-

Jae: You’re tired

Jay: don’t you need-

Jae: I’m pregnant, I can’t have period. I was just checking to see how tired you were. You’re so done for the day.

Jay: oh

Jae: You should probably change your clothes I’ll get you something to wear *head to his drawers*

Jay: no need, I’m sleeping just like that tonight *remove his bottoms*

Jay: you’re joking

Jay: no

Jae: babe-

Jay: Jae let’s not

Jae: *throws her hands up surrender*

Jay: you going to sleep?

Jae: no, I have an episode of Hello Counselor to watch

Jay: you still watch that?

Jae: yes *turns on the tv* I’m going to ignore you for an hour.

Jay: okay

Of course after he fell asleep I put something on him. I wasn’t feeling the whole Tarzan look he was going for.

It gets late in the night, but I couldn’t fall asleep. It started pouring like crazy, normally I’d be able to sleep, but I have so many things running through my mind I can’t even close my eyes.

I walk around the house, opening rooms thinking what it’s going to be like with kids around. Will the house that usually quiet gets loud? I have portrait on the wall from one to my Current age, are they going to be replace?

How will my relationship with Jay turns out? All the attention will shift from me to the kids? What kind of mom am I going to be? Am I going to turn out like my mother? Am I going to give up on my kid like she did?

That’s not good, I can’t be thinking like that. But what if it’s true, Jay’s going to love them more than me, and I’m just going to be a miserable house wife and become a bitter old woman 😢😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Jay: what are doing? *looking at her on the floor*

Jae: *bust out crying*

Jay: did I say something wrong?

Jae:*cries out loud*

Jay:*blankly stares at her* it’s going to be a long day. *follows her* babe?

*1hr later*

*knock knock*

Eric: who’s knocking so early-*opens the door* Jaejae? It’s 7AM what are you doing here?

Jae:*stands in front of him in her pink satin nightwear with a coat over it and night slipper*

Eric: why are you still in you night clothes? Why are you wet? Did you guys had a fight? *pulls her inside*

Jae: you have guests? Why are you dress like that in the morning?

Eric: Mark and Joon, we just got back

Jae: do I want to know?

Eric: not really. Go upstairs an change your clothes then come back so we can talk.

After changing my clothes I went back down, only to find three pairs of eyes, waiting to question me.

Mark: are you going to tell us what’s wrong?

Joon: Jaejae we know you’re married, but you’re still our little sister, if Jay did something to you, we’d still kick his ass.

Eric: regardless of how cool we are with him, you still come first.

Jae: at least I know I have you guys

Joon: Always, now can you tell us what’s wrong?

Jae: I haven’t slept since yesterday, mind if I rest here for a bit?

Eric: of course not

Jae: *passes them a walk up to one of the rooms*

Joon: should we call Jay or not?

Mark: I’m going to sleep

Eric: thats It?

Mark: she’s going to sleep all day anyways, what do you guys want me to do, drive to her house and beat him up? To do that I still need to sleep first.

*Jay’s views*

So Mrs.Park left the house since 7 or 8 right now its about to be 7PM and she is still not back yet. And no as always she doesn’t have her cell phone.

*door slams*

Jae: hi *walks to her room*

Jay: hi? You spent the whole day out, where were you?

Jae: out

Jay: I know that, I meant where?

Jae:……

Jay: JAEHA!

Jae: *walks out to the kitchen for dinner*

Poking around the food, she never touched it. After dinner it’s like she’s avoiding me.

Jae: *typing on her computer with a frown on her face*

Jay:*sits next to her*

Jae: *clothes the laptop and leave the couch*

Jay: did I do something?

Honestly not how I planned my day off to be. Tomorrow is Jaeha’s appointment. Of course I have to be there, but the way her mood is, if it doesn’t change, tomorrow is going to be a long long day.

Back to the room she’s on the bed staring out of space. She stayed quiet until it she fell asleep. Did I say or do something last night? Why is she upset? Better yet why is she mad at me?

The next morning, I watch her getting ready, I didnt even realize how big her stomach was getting. Have I been that busy that I didn’t notice it? Is that why she’s upset? Even with what she wore last night I couldn’t tell.

We get ready and leave.

At the hospital we took a lot longer than expected, because someone didn’t go to the hospital when they were suppose to. Now they have to do all the test and blood work and this lady is not having it.

Dr: I got a call from your personal doctor and he tells me that you don’t like hospital that’s why you missed your first appointment.

Jae: I was busy

Dr: he also sent me your medical records. You have an history with stress and depression.

Jae: I’m feeling fine

Dr: being stress and or having depression is really dangerous when you’re pregnant. They can put both your life and your babies in jeopardy. You’re not going to be able to take any medicine because they can be harmful to the babies.

Jay: what about working? She sometimes have to work at home.

Overall she has to be in a stress free environments. We spent the majority of the day hospital. We got some not so good news, and also some great news.

*in the car*

Jay: you wanna stop somewhere to eat?

Jae: If you want to, I don’t really care

Jay: are you going to tell me what’s wrong or not? Cause- *phone rings* it’s your dad

Jae: why you telling me? He must’ve need you since he call you.

Jay: maybe he knows that you never have your phone that’s why he calls mine

Jae:*glares at him*

Jay: Hello

Dad: hey son how are you?

Jay: I’m good how about yourself?

Dad: I’m alright, did I interrupted you guys?

Jay: not really no.

Dad: well I wanted to let you guys know that we’re in town for the weekend

Jay: oh okay.

After hanging up the phone with her dad, we head out to a restaurant for a late, really late lunch. And no she didn’t tell me what the problem was.

After I drop her home I went to Simon’s house there. There I try to find out what the problem is.

Jimin: I have no idea, if anything, ask Mark, cause Jaeha doesn’t keep secrets from him. Then again if it’s something really important Jaeha doesn’t want you to know, Mark won’t tell you even if you put a gun to his head

Jay: I thought we passed the whole keeping secret thing?

Jimin: there’s a certain things you just can’t help it’s a habit. Whenever anything happened the first people I have in my head is to call my are friends. It’s just a habit.

Jay: I honestly don’t know what to do

Jimin: just give her time she’ll come around.

Simon and I talk business and then I head home. I head back home to my miserable wife. Walk in the room, I’ve never seen Jaeha look so perfect. I know , I know , I KNOW I’ve said that a lot but I just can’t help it.

Jae:*standing in the mirror trying to braid her hair to the side wearing a crop gray shirt and one of Jay’s underpants as a short*

Jay: you’re practicing already?

Jae: *startle, and unbraid her unfinished hair* no *walks in her closet*

Jay: can you tell me what I did wrong? I’m totally lost. I at least need to know what I’m guilty of.

Jae: *walks back out* don’t you have work in the morning?

*Jae’s views*

My feet are swollen I feel annoyed and irritating all over I can’t take Jay’s whining. I’m wearing a little to nothing, I’m both cold and hot. Coming from the hospital today everything I heard make me more nervous and anxious, and even more worried than I was earlier.

I feel horrible but *grrr* it feels like I’m going crazy not talking to him.

Jae:*gets off the bed and went in his dressing room and hug him from behind*

Jay:*locks their fingers*

Jae: you’re going to dump me aren’t?

Jay: what? *turns around* what are you talking about?

Jae: you’re going to replace me with…them *looks down at her stomach*

Oh yeah Jay and I are having twins… I guess he got his wish. Jay wanted multiples even before we we’re married.

Jay: what do you mean dump? You know that’s never going to happen

Jae: yea, you’re going to replace me with them and I’m going to be #3

*Jay’s views*

YOU MEAN TO TELL ME, SHE THROW TANTRUMS FOR TWO DAYS BECAUSE SHE THINK SOMEONE’S GOING TO TAKE ME FROM HER? why do I find that cute?

Jay:*chuckles*

Jae: that’s not funny *storms out*

Jay: babe come on. You know you’ll always be my number one.

Jae: you’re just saying that

Jay: kids or not, you’ll always be my number one, because someday they will get married, and it’ll be just you and I again.

Jae: what if I resent them?

Jay: that’s never going to happen. Also seeing you looking like got me thinking

Jae: Oh no, that’s never a good thing.

Jay: but whatever comes after is always good right?

Jae: I’m hungry

Jay: don’t change the subject

Jae: what subject?

Jay: I’ll let you slide this once. By the way are you planning on wearing everything I own?

Jae: no, just the once that are comfortable.

Jay: *pulls her closer to his chest* babe?

Jae: mhm *traces his collarbone with her fingers*

Jay: you know I love you right?

Jae: I know

Jay: thank you

Jae: You’re welcome, and I’m sorry

Jay: for?

Jae: not being the perfect wife, you know a normal one.

Jay: what? What you mean?

Jae: you know everyone’s wives can cook, clean, you know they can do all those things and I can’t do any of them. I don’t even know how to wash clothes.

We had a great night, and it's sad to say that it was going to be our last peaceful night. The next few days Jaeha’s been having stomach pain.

We’re at the hospital and the doctor’s saying a bunch of things, all I want to know is are they going to be alright.

Dr: well I’m not really sure how to say that but unfortunately, we need to do surgery

Mr.Han: surgery for what?

Dr: we need to remove the fetuses, that’s what causing her all these pain

Jay: you mean abort the babies?

Ms.Han: isn’t there anything else you can do, money isn’t the problem whatever it is I can pay for it. It’s their first kids that’s not a decision that’s going to be easy to make.

Dr: I know it’s a hard decision but, if you don’t do anything she’s going to be in worst pain. The bigger they get. And she can’t be taking too much medication.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this hopeless. I have to pick between my unborn children or my wife. I can’t even picture myself without Jaeha.

It’s 11pm she’s still sleeping. All her friends are here, and none of them show any signs of leaving.

Jay: you guys can go rest at home if you want to.

I know they won’t leave until she wakes up.

*day 3-4*

It’s going on four days, and Jaejae is still hasn’t waken up yet. I am beyond scared, we came here because she was having stomach pain, but it’s going on 4 days and she shows no signs of waking up.

Jay:*looking at his wife lifeless body on the bed, with tears running down his face*

#giving love a shot part 53 #khh #khh scenarios #khh imagines #jay park #park jaebum #jay park scenarios #jay park snaps #jay park imagine #aomg #aomg imagines #aomg scenarios #follow #follow the movement

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vb-fantrolls-et-all · 8 years ago

Text

Tovani: Greet the last customer ==>

Tovani: The evening sky is in it's last hours of darkness, and the side street of the East Alternia district was quiet. Most trolls were already hive, or heading that way. The dawning hours never filled Tovani with the kind of fear though. She had always chalked it up to a subtle side effect of her caste. Somnel was out, since the shop was near closing hours, and Tovani was just taking the time to sterilize tools, even though the lights were on and the door unlocked to passers by. Quick tempo dance music was playing, and the bird troll shuffled her feet and swung her hips in time, dancing for an audience of no one as she worked.

???: Footsteps echoed through the empty streets as Nemiri made his way towards Tovani's ink shop. He thumbed the small camera stowed away in the pocket of his loose jacket. He was back in the saddle, and ready to shake things up again. A small grin stretched his face as he thought of the repercussions that wouldn't come. He was un-fucking-touchable now. And if Glates wants a show, he was gonna give it to her. Nemiri stepped up to the door and got into character, timidly opening the entrance to her shop. "Hello? Sorry, are you open right now?"

Tovani: She stopped in place, turning to face the new voice. A new customer? Well, it was still dark out. "Hellohello! Yeah, I'm open. Come on in!" She chirped happily, setting the steel tools of her trade on the sterile towel to air dry from the disinfectants. "Though depending on what work you want done, there might not be enough time for much past a consultation. What are you in for?" She crossed the distance and stood behind the reception counter, extending a hand to him. "Name's Tovani. Nice to meet you."

???: He let out a sigh of relief and entered the shop, letting the door shut behind him. "Thank you so much, I've been looking all over for this place. You must be the great Tovani Paccai I've heard so much about! It's so great to finally meet you. I live a few towns to the south, and a few friends of mine got their ink here. You're basically a legend over there! So, I figured, why not get some body mods of my own done here? Though, I admit, i'm not too familiar with the process."

Tovani: She smiled warmly, graciously nodding affirmation to the praise. "Well, I wouldn't put "The Great" in front of my name, but I have had a good share of happy and repeat customers, so that speaks to itself, I suppose." She pulled out a notebook and a few sketch pencils from the front desks' center drawer. "If you are wanting a tattoo, then we'll probably have to set a follow on appointment, especially if you want me to craft custom ink for you. If you want piercings, that we should still be able to do tonight." She slide the pencils in hemospectrum order, left to right high to low, so the rust pencil was against her pinky. "What did you have in mind?"

???: "Well..." He started, a small frown breaking his previously-held demeanor. "I'm looking to get a portrait on my back. A dear friend of mine passed away recently, and i'd like to sort of...pay tribute to him. He meant a lot to me. That being said, would it at all be possible to use my own blood for the ink? I think that's probably the best way to remember him, right? I don't know, i'm still sort of on the fence about this whole thing..."

Tovani: "Oh, of. of course." She stammered, a bit of genuine guilt from dampening his mood. She reached over to an binder, flipping open about two-thirds of the way in, art of trolls and lusii in photographs now displayed. It was her art, her portfolio, to show her capability for that style. "We can definitely talk through a concept. And... as much as I love doing what I do, if you aren't sold on it, don't make a rash decision. This is permanent." She took up a black pencil, and leaned on her elbows. "What..." She paused, looking up at him. "I am sorry, I never got your name. That was rude of me."

???: "Oh gosh, where are my manners? I'm Mirien, though just Miri is fine." He said, looking down into the binder. "Wow! These are...really really good. Do you think if I gave you a picture you could do a quick sketch of him for me? I don't know how well his image is gonna transfer to paper. Or skin, for that matter."

Tovani: "Miri." She repeated, scrawling his name on the top edge of the paper. She responded to the compliment first, then continued. "Thank you. Once we get the concept ironed, out, I'll take a look at where you want it on you and make sure it's a good fit. It's my job to make it transfer to skin, don't worry."

???: "Oh, I have no doubt. I know i'm in very good hands." He slid his hand into his back pocket as he spoke, digging his wallet out and flipping it open. He looked through it for a few moments before pulling a folded up polaroid out of the transparent slot where his ID would be. "This is him. Please forgive the state of the photograph, this was taken a long, long time ago." He said, setting the photo down onto the counter face-down. The photo, when turned over, would be a picture of Nemiri's original form, before he was killed the first time.

Tovani: She put the black pencil down and lifted the olive one, reaching for the photo with her other hand. "No worries." Tovani flipped the photo over... and almost dropped the pencil. she managed to catch it before it hit the counter. "Were you wanting his face as the focus, or a full to shoulders bust?" It was a testament to her professionalism that she didn't flinch... much.

???: Miri was watching for a reaction, and he suppressed a grin when he got one. He tilted his head, frowning slightly. "Is there a problem, Tovi? I know, I know, he's very handsome, but you look like you...saw a ghost." He said, a small smile replacing his frown as he placed his hands on the counter. He laughed softly, leaning ever-so-slightly forward, his grin stretching his face as it widened. He stopped laughing and took a deep breath, leveling his gaze into Tovani's. "You have."

Tovani: She blinked twice at being called Tovi. Strangers and customers don't usually move to nicknames that quick... if ever. "I don't mean any..." The jadelood started to apologize, but the sound froze in her throat. Meeting his eyes, confusion mixed with the palpable 'something isn't right' icy prickles of fear. "Ok.. I guess." She back pedaled cautiously, moving towards the side wall, where she kept her revolver in a drawer under her work station.

???: "Good GOD, they do not keep you around because of your brains, honey!" He shouted, lifting his shirt to pull his glock from the waist of his pants before quickly leveling it at her. "It's me, baby. Like the new bod'? Get back over here. Now."

Tovani: She had made it to the counter, until the glint of steel made her stop cold. "Ne-" She choked on the word, freezing in place. "How?"

???: "Because i'm in love with a freaky sci-fi chick." He said, walking around the counter and making his way towards her. "I'm fucking invincible now, Tovi. If you kill me, there's a metric fuckton of bodies I can use to come back. And it's pretty fucking apparent that it works. You had no idea. And once you're gone, I can just drop this body and get a new one. I can hide in plain fucking sight, and there's nothing you can do about it." He said with a cackle, reaching out to grip her arm. "Lock the door."

Tovani: This was too much, and quickly turning into something that smelled like a nightmare. She pulled the drawer open and brought up the revolver her matesprit had taught her how to use. For once, she didn't hesitate. Once it was at Nemiri's center mass, she pulled the trigger, staggering back at the recoil's demands. "Get the fuck out of my shop!"

???: The bullet carved it's way into Nemiri, lodging itself into his abdomen. He let out a roar of pain as he fell, firing a shot into the ceiling when his body made contact with the floor. "Fuck you!" He screamed at her as he leveled his sights at her chest, pulling the trigger over and over, intending to empty the entire magazine into the Jadeblood.

Tovani: Tovani let out a shocked shrill scream as his shot lodging into the ceiling. Shock wouldn't let her legs work right. She wanted to turn and run. She had panic buttons and hidden escape routes just in in case things went bad. Why did they all see so far away? There was a burst of pain and a blossom of heat as the first shot sank into her flesh, leading the way for the rest of it's brothers as round after round tore jade holes through her chest. Her weapon clattered inert and heavy to the tile floor, and Tovani followed shortly after, crumpling into a pile. She gasped impotently, like a fish on the cutting board.

???: After a short while, the shots turned into clicks, a sound that was very soft in comparison to the volley of gunshots. Nemiri threw his gun to the floor beside him, cursing aloud to himself. He scrambled to his feet, nursing the bullet wound in his gut. "Fuck...Fuckin'...Shit..." He struggled to catch his breath as he made his way over to Tovani. He knelt down next to her and watched her grip onto life. "You know...I always kinda liked you...you had spunk, girl. I remember when you couldn't even hold a gun without looking like you were about to shit your pants, but look at you now! You tagged me good." He reached over to pick up her revolver, now stained with jade, and now olive, blood. "You chose the wrong side. You know that, right? Ah, who am I kiddin', you're in shock. I don't even know if you can hear me. Well, it's over now." He said, pressing the barrel of her own revolver against her forehead. "Thanks for playin'."

Those would be the last thing to cross through Tovani's mind before the bullet did, a fresh coat of jade splattering the floor under her. He placed the revolver on her chest, and lifted his hand to close her eyelids, leaving an olive streak down the front of her face. He stood, retrieving his own weapon, releasing the slide before replacing it in his waistband. He was trailing his own blood around the parlor as he searched around for a spot for the camera. Finally finding a decent hiding spot, he followed Ancill's instructions to set it up. Once it was on, he pulled out his phone to pester Glates. He started to walk out, but stopped at Tovani's body again, crouching down again next to her head. He brushed her blood-matted hair out of her face and chuckled. "What a waste. You had a lotta talent, you coulda been someone." He paused, frowned, and pressed his finger against the tip of her nose. "Boop." He laughed again, louder this time, then stood and exited the parlor, only a trail of his blood left behind.

Tovani: [Dead.]

#tw:guns #tw:blood #tw:character death #tw:gun violence #tw:murder #Tovani things

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