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buckys-black-dress · 4 years ago

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campus - bucky barnes x fem!reader (college au)

a/n: hey y’all! so. this is my first ever fic being posted here! i’m super excited to be sharing my work on here :) that being said, thank you for reading! please feel free to share/reblog/leave comments, but please do not repost my work! this lil one shot was inspired by the song campus by vampire weekend. enjoy! - ali

wc: 3.4k

You worked in the evenings at your coffee shop on campus during the week. Being that you went to school in a major metropolitan city, there were endless amounts of students bustling in and out of the shop daily. Day in and day out, it was pretty repetitive. The same kids, stressed, ordering a coffee and snack, and then sitting at a desk or in the upstairs attached library for hours on end, cramming or stressing about some test that was probably the following day.

But there was one part that always made your day brighter, no matter how horrible your day had been thus far.

Him.

His dark, long brown hair that looked soft to the touch, his large physique that had you melting in seconds, and his voice.

He was always kind when he spoke to you, never short or rude. He always took his time to ask you how your day was going, took the time to learn your name, and even sat with you in between customers at the counter.

Today, it was him sitting through the lunch rush, and while you whirled around the coffee machines and mugs, he watched you and made conversation while you steamed milk for the next latte that was ordered.

“So, what are your plans for the winter break? Seeing any family?” He questioned, looking down into his own mug of dark brew.

“Yeah, usually I go up to Canada to see my family there. I miss them a lot around this time of year, can’t wait to see them.” You shrugged your shoulders with a smile. “How about you, Bucky?”

Bucky hummed, wrapping a large hand around the body of the mug and pulled it up to his lips.

“Yeah, not as far as you, though. Can’t wait to see my ma and sister. Miss ‘em to death.” He matched your grin.

“Aw, how is she? Doing better now?”

You recalled one day where Bucky came into the cafe, head hung low. You immediately poured him a cup and sat with him as he talked.

“She’s doing great now, thank God. Would’ve had to take off from school to stay with her if she didn’t, and she’s still so young. No one deserves to be bound to a hospital bed when they’re a kid.” He spoke brightly, glad he could say Rebecca was out of the hospital.

“That’s amazing, Buck! Glad to hear it.” You grinned even brighter than you had before, and Bucky couldn’t help but to stare at the sparkle in your eyes.

You were a shy girl, and Bucky had initially first seen you in your sophomore art class. For you, it was a core requirement, but Bucky was taking courses aimlessly, trying to figure out what he wanted to do. He was at school on a football scholarship, and almost everyone knew him and his teammates. But as soon as he spotted you in that class, he knew he had to get to know you. It was hard at first, he’ll admit. You weren’t quite as responsive to him as he’d hoped, but over time when he would see you more often, he would make more conversation and you eventually warmed up to him.

You never knew what to do with Bucky. At first, you thought he was pranking you when he tried to talk to you. But over time, you let your guard down. You often fantasize about him and what it would be like to be with him. You fell for the side of him that was kind and caring, the soft side. Others saw the big, brawny football player, but that couldn’t be further from who he actually was.

“You know, you should come to our party tonight.”

You scoffed at that.

“And why, Bucky, would I do that?” Your tone was incredulous.

“Because, sweetheart, I want you to meet my friends?” The nickname made your heart flutter, beating wildly against your chest.

“I’ve already met Steve and Sam, and as far as I know, no one else is relevant.” You countered.

“I- Well, you’re right, but I want to have fun with you! I never see you outside of work or school.” Bucky’s eyes shone with pleading, basically begging you.

“I… Fine, maybe I’ll drop by after work…” You compromised, but Bucky’s smirk grew.

“Yes! I’ll see ya at eight, doll, but I gotta head out and help set up.” He tapped the counter and stood up from his stool, flashing you one last smile before heading out the door, the bell ringing above it.

And fuck, you couldn’t wipe that damn smile off your face.

Eight o’clock couldn’t roll around fast enough, and as soon you clocked out of work you practically ran to your apartment. Your roommates were out, so you picked out the best outfit you could put together in half an hour.

The walk to Bucky’s fraternity house was jittery, your hands shaking uncontrollably, and it wasn’t just because of the frigid November air.

It was exactly eight. Music was booming, you could literally feel it from the front porch. Not a minute late or early, and you were wondering why you were so nervous. Of course, it was because of Bucky, but also about the prospect of a party. You don’t go to many at all, and to go to a college party was more or less social suicide. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself, let alone in front of Bucky.

You lifted your hand to knock and after a minute or so, the door pulled open.

And that was definitely not Bucky.

“You here for the party?” The guy said, a brunet just a bit taller than you, but you could tell he was older than you.

“Uh- yeah-” You barely got out before he pulled you in by the arm.

“Great, uh, I don’t have too much time for formalities or anything, but drinks are there,” he said, pointing to the kitchen, “and if ya gotta yak, please, for the love of God, do it in a toilet.” He said, leaving you in the middle of the hallway with people stumbling around you, mumbling apologies as you bumped into countless people.

You felt like looking for Bucky was hopeless, so you stayed by the drinks for a bit, seeing if he’d come by, and after a few minutes, he turned up.

But of course, not alone.

“Y/N! You made it, I was wondering if you bailed on me!” He was basically yelling over the music.

“Oh! Yeah, I made it, I guess.” You tightly smiled, giving a fake laugh.

“Where are my manners! This is Nat, ot Natasha. We’re in the same Human Sexuality course. ‘ve known her since freshman year, can always count on her.” Bucky announced, pulling the interest of the redhead that he walked in with.

She extended her hand with a smile as you shook her hand.

She’s fucking gorgeous. Of course Bucky’s here with her. Fuck. Why did you think he would hang out with you tonight?

“So, Y/N, what’s your major?” Natasha asked you, her soft voice pulling you out of your intrusive thoughts.

“I uh, I’m an English Lit major with a minor in Cognitive Psych.” You responded, wanting to be done with this conversation. Done with this whole party, actually, at this point.

“Oh shit, that’s so cool! I’m just a boring Criminal Justice major,” she answered, taking a sip from her drink.

Suddenly, her eyes lit up, looking at you in shock.

“Buck! Get this girl a drink! She’s just been standing here empty handed!” She slapped his arm, causing him to curse.

“Fuck, Y/N, let me get you something. Any preferences?” Bucky asked, already turning to the counter.

“Uhm, not really, just no beer. Tastes like shit.” You huffed out a laugh, looking down at your hands until Bucky handed you a cup that was almost full.

“Vodka lemonade, doll, sweet enough where all you taste is the burn.” He smiled a wide smile that made you realize something. Bucky was drunk.

“Thanks, Bucky.” You smiled and took a sip. He was right, it wasn’t strong at all, but by the time you looked up, Natasha was pulling him back to the dance floor, throwing her arms around his neck and swaying to the beat. His hands almost immediately found her hips, moving at the same pace.

Somewhere deep in your chest, you felt a pang. You knew that of course, you had no claim over Bucky. But you thought that after really getting to know him that there was something between you two.

But seeing his gaze never waver from Natasha, you guess you’d thought wrong.

Setting your cup down on the counter, you felt a hand land on top of yours, and he spoke before you could.

“Hey, another rule I forgot to mention. Never leave your cup unattended. We try to keep a clean act here, but some assholes always slip through.” It was the same brunet from earlier.

“Oh… I was actually just about to go…” You mumbled.

“Leaving so early? You make me feel like a horrible host!” He yelled dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Oh God, you don’t even know me, do you?” He questioned.

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t.” You responded, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Well, nice to meet you. I’m Tony, but I prefer ‘Greek God’ or ‘Ruler of the Universe,’ up to ya.” He smirked.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Tony. I’m Y/N.” You shook his hand, looking around. You just wanted to go home at this point.

“So why do you look like someone just killed your cat, Y/N?” He asked, leaning back onto the counter.

“I just… don’t really think this is my scene, I guess.” You shrugged. It was the truth, this wasn’t where you wanted to be on a Friday night. But you came for Bucky, and right now he’s dancing with a gorgeous redhead on the dance floor, while you stand in the kitchen talking to a stranger.

“I see… have you come to one of our parties before?” He asks, scanning the crowd.

“Uh, just a few with my old roommates, but not too many, but Bucky invited me…” Your words trailed off, spotting him in the crowd, head thrown back laughing at something Steve or Natasha had said.

“Ah, I see. Bucky.” Tony smirked. “You like him, don’t you?” He questioned.

“What?” You paled, “No! He’s just a friend, we’ve had a few classes together, that’s all.” Your face turned beet red as you looked down at your feet.

“Listen, Y/N, I don’t know you very well, but I can tell you’re not dumb. If you like him, tell him that. I almost waited too long to tell Pep, but now we’ve been together a whole year and I can’t imagine my life without her. What’s the worst that could happen?” Tony proclaimed, bounding away and pulling a strawberry blonde girl, who you’re assuming is ‘Pep.’

And although Tony’s word instilled an unusual wave of confidence in you, what you were met with when you turned your head towards Bucky made it disappear into thin air.

There he was, in all his long-haired, muscly glory, kissing Natasha.

Oh.

Alright.

Your mind was blank, and before you knew it you were out of the house and running back to your apartment, ignoring your roommates calling you from the couch as you held back tears.

Of course Bucky would never go for someone like you.

Waking up and having to go to class on Monday was a feat on its own. But going to work?

Impossible.

You had been avoiding going on campus all weekend, although you had to go in for a studio hour. But all in all, you managed to avoid Bucky. Thank God you didn’t have to work on weekends.

But alas, Monday came, and Monday meant work.

And work meant Bucky.

You took your time clocking in and pulling on your apron in the back and as you emerged, you were met with tons of customers waiting in line.

No Bucky yet.

Hm.

An hour into your shift, you’re whirling around behind the counter, completing orders, when he walked in. Bucky quietly sat himself down at the countertop and waited for you to greet him with a mug of hot coffee and a smile.

All you could manage was a tight, rushed smile while placing the mug in front of him haphazardly.

Bucky’s brows furrowed as you kept up your work, not even stopping to speak a word to him. He waited and waited, but you kept to yourself and served the countless students that walked into the cafe.

Needless to say, Bucky was confused.

“Hey, Y/N?” He finally piped up after almost two hours of watching you.

“Oh, yeah, need something James?” You asked, focused on pouring the right amount of milk into a cup.

James.

You never called him James.

“Uh, no. Just wanted to ask you if everything was alright?” Bucky inquired, hoping you’d give him something.

“Yeah, just working.” You replied shortly.

“Oh. Alright, doll.” Bucky took the hint, you thought.

But he still sat there until you got off your shift, which is exactly what you did not want.

While walking out of the cafe, you didn’t even look in Bucky’s direction. You walked right out, and by the time he saw you leaving he was sprinting out of his seat, but you had disappeared into the crowd of people walking about.

The next day was more of the same. Bucky sitting and waiting, and you sneaking out to avoid him.

On Thursday night after work, you waited for the elevator in your apartment building, and just as the doors were about to close, a tall, burly blond slid his way in.

“Oh, hey Y/N.” He nodded down at you.

“Hi, Steve.” You muttered, looking down at your shoes.

“How ya been? Haven’t seen you around that much lately.” He asks.

“Oh, just busy with work and school, finals and stuff are coming up.” You answered, pursing your lips.

“Yeah, Bucky’s been mentioning that he hasn’t spent time with you in a while. You should talk to him.” He looked at you.

“Steve, are you here on behalf of Bucky?” You asked, anger raising inside you.

“Well, no, not really. My girlfriend Peggy lives on the 13th floor, so I gotta head out, but just… talk to him, Y/N? He misses you, I think.” Steve punctuates his sentence with the elevator doors sliding shut and leaving you with your thoughts.

Of course, you didn’t follow Steve’s advice. You didn’t know how to really act around him now, but you didn’t want to completely cut him off.

So the following week had been a bit of the same, but Wednesday came, and that’s when it all blew up in your face.

After work, you snuck out from the back, but the alleyway that was usually empty had one single person there, waiting for you.

“Hey doll, can we talk?”

Fuck.

“Uh, yeah, sure what’s up?” You asked, standing a mere distance from him.

“It’s just… why have you been avoiding me?” Bucky sounded unsure, like he was crazy.

“Bucky, I’ve just been busy, I’m sorry-” You started, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“Y/N, please. It’s been almost two weeks and you haven’t said more than five words to me. Did something happen? Did I upset you somehow?” He sounded desperate, like he was really trying.

But all your mind could think of is him that night. His arms around Natasha, his lips attached to hers.

And then it went to all of the moments you two shared. Hours of conversations, pet names, talking about everything under the sun.

“Bucky, I just… I don’t understand.”

“What, what don’t you understand, doll?” He was pleading with you here.

“That party… why did you invite me?” You carefully asked.

Bucky looked confused now. “Because I wanted to hang out with you and have fun?”

You shuffled your feet against the gravel, scoffing at yourself.

“So why did you spend the whole night making out with Natasha?” You asked, pretty boldly if you would admit it to yourself. You were never one for confrontation, but Bucky had put you in a corner.

“I… doll… I’m sorry, ya gotta believe, it was never my intention to make you feel unimportant,” Bucky’s eyes flashed with realization at what he’d done, “I was drunk out of my damn mind because Tony was pregaming and… I’m sorry, Y/N.” Bucky bowed his head in shame.

“Just… was I all a game to you? Someone who was just there to comfort you when you needed it? Did I… ever mean anything more to you?” Your voice was meek.

“Y/N, please, look at me.” Bucky’s hand found your cheek, tilting your head up. “You are the sweetest, kindest, most intelligent person I’ve met in my entire life. There is no one else like you.” He spoke passionately.

“Then… why can’t I be enough?” Tears pooled in your eyes. “Why can’t I be the one you hold when you dance?” Why can’t I be the one who gets the guy?

“You have to believe me, I was drunk, Y/N. I know that’s no excuse, but I’m so, so, so sorry. I was just afraid. You’re always so quiet, I never know how you’re feeling, so I just assumed you weren’t interested in me the way I was interested in you. I thought I was chasing a dead end.” He confessed.

By now, fat tears were running down your face, being gently wiped away by Bucky's large thumbs.

“I just- I know I don’t talk much, but I always talk to you. It was so hard for me to open up to you and when I saw you with Natasha I just… I thought I had driven you away. I thought you’d found someone better because I wasn’t enough for you.” You barely choked out the words.

“Sweetheart, you are more than enough for me. I come and sit with you at work for hours just to hear you talk. I just didn’t know how to tell you without freaking you out.”

By now, the both of you were crying, trying to understand how you got here.

“I’m sorry, Buck. You’re just so different. I never thought someone like you could like someone like me.”

“Doll, please. I wouldn’t shut up about you to Steve, he was going insane.” Bucky cracked a smile, thumbing at your cheek still.

You giggled at that, sniffling.

“Look at us. Two big idiots, huh?” You laughed.

“The biggest idiots. But I think I’ll be an even bigger idiot if i don't do this.” He mumbled.

“Do what?”

Before the question could leave your lips, his mouth was on yours, capturing it in a sweet kiss that you didn’t even know you were longing for.

After coming out of your daze, your eyes fluttered open when Bucky pulled away.

“What was that for?” You breathily asked, bringing your fingers up to your lips.

“It was to show you how sorry I am. I wanna take you out and show you off, Y/N. I wanna make you my girl. Whaddaya say?” Bucky was smiling, but you could tell he was nervous.

“Sure, Buck. I’ll be your girl. But you gotta take me out for dinner first.” You smirked, clutching Bucky’s face in your hands.

“I’ll take ya wherever ya wanna go, sweetheart. I’d take you to the moon if you wanted.”

#bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction #college au #college!bucky #college!bucky x reader #frat!bucky

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kjack89 · 3 years ago

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An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 4/?)

Continuation of the E/R Bridgerton AU, regency-era fake-marriage shenanigan-fest. This time, with duel-shenanigans as well! (Chapter 1 tumblr | AO3, chapter 2 tumblr | AO3, chapter 3 tumblr | AO3)

Dearest Readers,

This Author recommends that young women prone to swoon do not read this most peculiar of updates without someone there to catch them, as the most shocking of scandals has broken, and not, as one might expect, from the city but rather from the country.

If you have guessed that it involves our two unlikely friends out for a country jaunt, you would be correct, but we doubt even the most voracious of readers would guess the nature of the scandal. It turns out Mr. Grantaire is not an only child, as many have supposed, but instead has a sister of the marrying age. Why she was not presented to society is anyone’s guess, but we expect she’ll be along soon enough, given what has occurred.

Details are still forthcoming, but suffice it to say, the Marquess of Enjolras, perhaps least likely amongst his cohort to find himself in this situation, appears to have been found in a compromising position with Mr. Grantaire’s sister. A quick, quiet wedding is the fastest way to deal with a scandal of this nature, but the salacious nature of this situation doesn’t end here:

The Marquess has allegedly refused to marry Mr. Grantaire’s sister, so Mr. Grantaire publicly challenged the Marquess to a duel for his sister’s honor, and the Marquess accepted.

Tales of Mr. Grantaire’s prowess in physical contests are well-known, so this Author hopes for the Marquess’s sake that his aim with a gun is less impressive. Fear not, dear Reader. This Author suspects that both the Marquess of Enjolras and Mr. Grantaire will emerge from the duel with all limbs intact, but we also suspect that Grantaire will emerge with a soon-to-be brother-in-law – and the Marquess with a fiancée. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 4 May 1831

It was, charitably speaking, ungodly early when Enjolras was roused from his bed by the ever dour-faced Le Cabuc. There was not even a hint of sunlight when he glanced out the window before getting dressed, and when he and Grantaire set off a half hour later, there was still just the beginning rays of sunlight creeping over the horizon.

Usually, Enjolras did not mind waking at an early hour, though he was more inclined to work late into the night and have a bit of a lie-in the next morning whenever possible, but he had slept poorly the previous night. Undoubtedly, he thought sourly as he followed Grantaire away from the house, because of what they were setting out to do.

Not that he had much real cause for concern – after all, if Grantaire was going to shoot him, surely he would have done it long ago.

That said, he would also have felt slightly more comfortable if he was carrying one of the guns, rather than Grantaire carrying both as he currently was.

But he suspected his tossing and turning was more related to the grand scheme they were attempting to pull off, and his very real concern that they were not going to be able to. Thus far, certainly, all pieces of the plan had fallen in place, but that as much as anything was setting him on edge. After all, it would take but one thing going awry from the whole arrangement to unravel, and Enjolras was not thoroughly convinced that—

Grantaire heaved a sigh and glanced over his shoulder at Enjolras. “Could you please be quiet?” he asked, sounding as tired as Enjolras felt.

Enjolras scowled at him. “I haven’t said anything!” he protested.

“No, but I can hear your mind going a mile a minute,” Grantaire groused, waving a dismissive hand. “It is positively spoiling what should otherwise be a magnificent morning.”

It was a lovely morning, Enjolras supposed, especially as the sun inched further up in the sky. “There is only so much I can do about the relative volume of my mind,” he told Grantaire, half-smiling as he did.

Grantaire pursed his lips slightly before shaking his head. “No, I suppose not,” he said, pausing in his stride to allow Enjolras to fall into step besides him. “Which means that I shall have to distract you instead.”

“And how do you intend on doing that?” Enjolras asked, more amused than curious.

“Well, I could regale you with what little I know about the vegetation in this area,” Grantaire offered, and when Enjolras wrinkled his nose, he laughed. “Very well. Then what conversation topic would you prefer?”

Enjolras considered it for a second. “I suppose you could start by telling me where, exactly, you’re taking me.”

“So banal,” Grantaire said, half under his breath, and he laughed and dodged when Enjolras tried to elbow him in the ribs. “Fine, fine. There’s a field not far outside of town that’s up on a small bluff. Isolated so that no one will see, but the elevation and lack of foliage between the field and town will allow the sound to carry, which is what I am banking on.”

“Not a lot of shooting out this way?” Enjolras asked, mostly jokingly, though Grantaire seemed to consider it for a moment before shaking his head.

“No. A fox hunt every now and then or something or the sort, but usually advertised well in advance and taking place further afield.”

The terrain sloped upward at that point, and both Enjolras and Grantaire fell silent as they trekked along. Finally, the slope evened out, and as Grantaire had promised, they were standing on the edge of a fairly flat field overlooking the town below. “Well,” Grantaire said, rather unnecessarily. “Here we are.”

He handed one of the pistols to Enjolras, who took it, feeling unusually out of sorts, even though this was hardly his first time wielding a weapon. “Ten paces?” he asked, mostly for lack of anything better to say.

“I suppose so,” Grantaire said, before winking at him. “Of course, in keeping with our attempt at verisimilitude, I could shoot you, if you wish. Just a flesh wound, in the shoulder maybe – just a little something to demonstrate how coerced you were into this whole affair.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “While I am certain that you would have no compunction shooting anyone, I really don’t think that’s necessary.”

Instead, he squared his shoulders and dutifully marched ten paces away before turning to face Grantaire again. “Here?” he asked, but Grantaire was frowning, his gun held loosely at his side.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked.

Enjolras blinked. “I mean, is this the correct distance?”

“No, by my not having any compunction about shooting anyone.”

There was something unfamiliar in Grantaire’s tone and Enjolras frowned, trying to figure out what exactly he had said to put Grantaire out. “I meant no offense,” he offered.

Grantaire shook his head. “I do not necessarily take offense,” he said. “But I would still wish to know what precisely you meant.”

Enjolras considered him for a moment. “I know that you are an accomplished boxer,” he said after a moment. “And I have it on good authority that you know also how to wield a blade, so it can only stand to reason that you know how to use a gun. That s all that I meant.”

“Know how, yes,” Grantaire said, “but I’ve never shot anyone, and I’m not certain that I could bring myself to, were it to come to that.”

Now it was Enjolras’s turn to frown and ask, “What do you mean?”

Grantaire shrugged, glancing down at the gun in his hand. “I mean, with boxing, with fencing, hell, even with street brawling as Bahorel and I are wont to do—”

“Wont is certainly one word for it,” Enjolras said sourly, too aware of how many times those two had gotten themselves into scraps.

“—with all of those,” Grantaire continued, ignoring him, “the goal is surrender. You wound or injure to get the offending party to back down. But with a gun?” Again he looked down at the gun in his hand, hefting it as if testing its weight. “With a gun, the outcome is too often death, no matter the intent. And I am not certain that I could bring myself to shoot a man, knowing the likely outcome is his death.”

It had not been at all the answer Enjolras was expecting. “Oh,” he said, a little stupidly. “I suppose I did not think of it that way.”

“What of you?” Grantaire asked, with a wry half-smile, as if aware of the absurdity of this conversation when the two men were facing each other with pistols in hands so as to duel. “Have you ever shot a man?”

Enjolras shook his head. “No,” he said, “but I don’t think I would have the same hesitation you would. Death is a tool, and there are times when, in order to bring about the best future possible, killing someone is the only option.” Grantaire shifted as if he was about to interrupt, but Enjolras did not let him. “But the law of progress is that this will no longer be the case some day, and that is the moment for which I would fight, and kill if necessary, so that none after me would face that choice.”

Grantaire was silent for a few moments after, and he was too far away for Enjolras to be able to read every line in his face like he normally would be able to. “I understand,” Grantaire pronounced finally, the two words spoken almost like a vow.

Enjolras felt strangely tongue-tied at that, and looked away. “Shall we?” he asked, his voice strangely thick, and Grantaire nodded.

Both men faced each other once more, lifting their pistols to aim in the rough direction of the other, ready to get this over with. Later, Enjolras would never know what possessed him in that moment, but as he stared down the barrel of the gun at Grantaire, he could not help but blurt, “I could have sworn that you were going to kill that soldier.”

Grantaire lowered his pistol, his brow furrowing. “What soldier?”

Enjolras lowered his weapon as well. “Do you remember the demonstration we hosted outside of parliament last spring?”

“I am fairly certain the authorities deemed that less a demonstration and more a riot,” Grantaire said, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“Even so,” Enjolras said, refusing to allow himself to get distracted. “Soldiers were called in to ‘enforce the peace’, though I am certain they were more violent than any of us—”

“They certainly were,” Grantaire murmured.

“—and there was this one soldier in particular who seemed quite determined to…”

Enjolras trailed off, and Grantaire cleared his throat. “To beat you to death in the street?” he supplied, a false, sharp cheerfulness to his words.

Shaking his head slightly, more at the memory than in disagreement to Grantaire’s words, Enjolras swallowed before continuing, “That’s one way of putting it.” He met Grantaire’s eyes. “But you stopped him.”

“Yes.”

“Quite violently, as memory serves.”

Grantaire’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “Yes.”

“But you did not wish to kill him?”

“Oh, I wanted very much to kill him,” Grantaire said, an ugly look crossing his face. “But I did not.”

Enjolras had the sense that continuing too far down that path was not going to end well, so he changed tacks slightly. “So then you too agree that death is a sometimes necessary tool.”

Grantaire jerked a shrug. “I suppose, yes,” he allowed. “If the circumstances were right.”

“And the circumstances were not right that day?” Enjolras asked, because he couldn’t resist prying, just a little.

Grantaire shook his head. “No.”

He did not seem inclined to elaborate any further, and Enjolras frowned. “Because you feared that you could have been arrested?” he asked, though he doubted that was the case, as Grantaire had been arrested as many times as any of their number.

Indeed, Grantaire snorted derisively. “As if the threat of incarceration has ever once stopped me,” he scoffed, before arching an eyebrow at Enjolras. “Or you, for that matter.”

“It helps knowing that you or I would only be incarcerated until the police realized who we were and released us,” Enjolras said dryly. “The perks of nobility – or gentility, I suppose, in your case.”

“Gentility,” Grantaire repeated, smirking again. “I dare you to use that the next time you’re arrested, just to see what the officer placing you in irons has to say in response.”

Enjolras just rolled his eyes and ignored him, steering the conversation back on track. “What did stop you, then?” he asked, and when Grantaire looked confused, he elaborated, “From killing the soldier, if not the possibility of incarceration.”

Grantaire’s expression was unreadable as he locked eyes with Enjolras. “You were no longer in danger,” he said simply.

The stark words left Enjolras feeling as if his chest was suddenly a size too small, and it took him a moment to compose himself. To know Grantaire had reacted that way when the man was not convinced he could take a life, and all because Enjolras had been in danger...it was too much. Finally, he met Grantaire’s eyes once again, and hoped the two words he could muster conveyed everything that he wished they did. “Thank you.”

Grantaire seemed suddenly flushed, and he cleared his throat and looked away. “In any case,” he said loudly, “can we kindly get back to the business of shooting each other?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Shooting at each other,” he corrected.

Grantaire smirked at him, all traces of the previous conversation disappearing. “Is that not what I said?” he asked innocently.

Again Enjolras rolled his eyes before once again raising his gun and aiming it in Grantaire’s general direction. Grantaire followed suit, a half a beat later. “Are you ready?” Enjolras asked.

“As ready as I will ever be,” Grantaire said. “On your count?”

Enjolras jerked a nod. “On my count,” he affirmed, taking a deep breath before counting, “One...two...shoot.”

Both guns went off with a flash of powder and smoke, the gunshots echoing loudly in the still morning air, loud enough to make Enjolras wince – though that may also have been from the recoil, which left Enjolras’s arm feeling weak. “Do you yield?” Grantaire called, and it took that question for Enjolras to remember the absurd reason for which they were there in the first place.

“Yes, I yield,” Enjolras told him, the first and only times those words had ever come out of his mouth.

Grantaire smirked at him. “And do you agree to marry my sister?”

Enjolras gave him a look. “There is no one here to hear my answer, you realize.” Grantaire returned his look with one of his own, and Enjolras sighed. “Yes, I will marry your sister.”

“Then I have my satisfaction,” Grantaire said, sounding just a little smug.

But as Enjolras handed his pistol back to Grantaire, as lingering pieces from their conversation played over in his mind, he could not help but feel that they had both gotten satisfaction that day.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #les miserables #fanfiction #chaptered #part 4 #bridgerton au #regency era #canon era #no those two eras don't overlap but don't @ me #fake marriage #duels #guns cw

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 5 years ago

Text

The Switching Hour

A/N: it’s been just over a week since halloween but i finally got this piece done and i’m quite happy with it! :D i hope you guys enjoy and feedback is always welcome and cherished!! ilyyyy

masterlist | ask

word count: 8.4k

content: dramatic perfectionist demon!h, fluff, and a lil bit of smutty sexual tension

preview:

Her voice chimes up, prickly with annoyance and just the slightest bit of awe. “Are you always this picky when it comes to your Halloween costume?”

Harry rubs the material of a Jack Skellington pantsuit between his thumbs and forefingers, humming in absentminded disapproval at the flimsiness of the fabric. “Always.”

“Why?”

He drops the article of clothing, watching it sway back and forth on its hanger for a second before glancing up to meet her irritated expression, answering with a prideful undertone. “Because Halloween is the best holiday of the year and I’ve built quite the reputation for myself amongst my group. I always outshine and I tend to keep it that way, darling.”

Y/N rolls her eyes lightly, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. “Right, I forgot how competitive you are.”

“Actually, I like the praise,” Harry gives her a slow, sultry once-over, lips buckling with a sly smirk, “but you already knew that.”

Her arms tighten instinctively across her body.

Harry goes back to filtering through hangers, scrunching his nose in distaste at yet another Dracula ensemble. Drac never even wore a cape, he preferred tapered vests. He was the one who taught Harry how to style flared pants centuries before they came into fashion. With the way humans stained his cherished outfit designs, he’d be rolling around in his grave right now if he had one. He wasn’t even a vampire— just a crossroads demon with a very peculiar taste in beverages.

Y/N toys with the visor of an astronaut helmet, staring at her warbled reflection in the grey plastic and sighing with defeated boredom. “Why don’t we just get the Purge masks and go?”

Harry gives her a look of incredulous disdain. “And cover up one of my most prized assets? I’d rather let a hellhound disembowel me again.”

///

Harry was aiming to be an angel.

Well, not literally. Hell forbid it, in his opinion. Most of them are wound so tight, they wouldn’t be able to fly if they tried.

Plus, he actually quite enjoys being a demon. Immortality, flexible work hours, free range of the human world, and not to mention a pretty sick gig with the sorcery. It’s a sweet deal, once you get past the decades of excruciating torture and training, of course.

So no, he’s not aiming to be a literal celestial being. Rather, he’s planning to be one for Halloween on behalf of Y/N’s approach to switch identities as a couple’s costume.

The idea had stemmed from when they had been walking around Party City a few days prior, trying to gain inspiration for the annual costume party a friend of Harry’s is hosting.

Y/N hadn’t really been keen on going, despite the invitation being extended to her through Harry. She felt like she never really fit right with her boyfriend’s inner circle and it was for an obvious factor: they were all demons.

She’d only ever gotten along with one demon before (granted, she’d only ever put effort into befriending this single one) and she was perfectly fine with that number. It isn’t that Harry’s friends treat her coldly in any way (they were pretty welcoming, much to her surprise), but she could practically drown in the awkward tension that milled whenever they had to interact. She stuck out of place in a painfully obvious manner and she refuses to force herself into bonding with them; it would just make the situation a whole lot worse.

The connection remained as a polite acquaintanceship, and from what Y/N could tell, both parties are more than happy for it remain as so.

Either way, Harry had managed to sway her into accompanying him. She wanted to give out candy to the children from the complex and he wanted her to be his plus-one, so a compromise was settled. They would hand out candy from six in the evening until eight, then get ready and leave for the party at nine.

After agreeing upon the terms, they’d spent well over forty minutes in pursuit for their costumes at the store.

The choices they had weren’t very compelling, according to Harry.

He outright refused to be a vampire, warlock, or werewolf— the overuse of the genres made them tacky. He’d rather be caught dead (a second time) than have to wear a cowboy hat, so that was a bust on Y/N’s part. No aliens, no zombies, no Frankenstein (which he filed under zombie and it was an entire five minute bicker session between them before Y/N finally let it go with an exasperated sigh).

No superheroes. He’d cycled through all of them already, including Black Widow. He looked great in a bodysuit, if he does say so himself.

Historic figures were a bore considering there isn’t anything truly scary about King Tut, other than his crippled foot and untimely demise. Animal costumes are for children, as well as ghosts and ghouls. Mummies were too messy.

Due to his selectiveness, they ended up circling the store five times, coming up empty-handed. Y/N had stopped giving him suggestions after he’d used a release spell to make her drop the Elvis wig she’d been inspecting.

Her voice chimes up, prickly with annoyance and just the slightest bit of awe. “Are you always this picky when it comes to your Halloween costume?”

Harry rubs the material of a Jack Skellington pantsuit between his thumbs and forefingers, humming in absentminded disapproval at the flimsiness of the fabric. “Always.”

“Why?”

Y/N rolls her eyes lightly, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. “Right, I forgot how competitive you are.”

“Actually, I like the praise,” Harry gives her a slow, sultry once-over, lips buckling with a sly smirk, “but you already knew that.”

Her arms tighten instinctively across her body.

Y/N toys with the visor of an astronaut helmet, staring at her warbled reflection in the grey plastic and sighing with defeated boredom. “Why don’t we just get the Purge masks and go?”

Harry gives her a look of incredulous disdain. “And cover up one of my most prized assets? I’d rather let a hellhound disembowel me again.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He pulls a pirate costume out from the metal rack, eyeing it judgingly. “You don’t get crowned best costume every year without being dramatic.”

The outfit holds a decent aesthetic with the passable material and colorful gems. The embroidery on the cosmetically tattered vest holds up and there’s no stingy parrot accessory in sight, though the cheap plastic sword is a bust. He’ll have to rummage through his storage and find a real one (probably the one he used during the American Revolution). If he’s lucky, maybe it’ll still have some dried blood on it.

With a bit of smudged black eyeliner and a pair of silver hoop earrings, he just might strike gold at the party.

Best of all, the costume gives him an excuse to show off his broad chest (not that he needs one, but the fact that it adds to the genuinity of the look is a win).

“Harry, look.”

The giddy hilarity in Y/N’s voice draws his attention upwards from examining the purple buttons on the potential candidate.

She’d clad herself in a bright red glittering cape that goes down to her knees, the button of the collar a large pentagram and perched atop her head is a pair of bedazzled devil horns about five inches in height each. In her hand she holds the rest of the costume— an attachable pointed tail and a three foot tall blood red pitchfork.

“What do you think? Kinda reminds me of someone, but I can’t quite place my finger on it.” She looks up in faux thoughtfulness, tapping her chin for effect.

Harry’s cheeks twitch with a grin of endeared amusement, dimples blinking. “I think you look absolutely adorable. Although...”

He trails off as he drift towards her, tugging lightly at hem of the cape, looking past his girlfriend towards the array of other devil costumes. He reaches for another, pulling it out and holding it up for consideration, shrugging his brows suggestively. “I think I’d rather see you in this skimpy little red dress and fishnet stockings.”

Y/N’s eyelids droop into a stern scowl. “And I’d rather not have my ass hanging out in front of all your friends.”

“That’s the whole point, minx.” Harry holds the hanger up in front of her, humming admirably as an image swipes over the front of his eyes of her prancing around in a pair of glossy red-bottom heels, a pentagram choker, and some bold cherry-colored lipstick. “Just wanna show off my girl.”

Y/N shoves the garment back towards him, tone cocky and pointed. “If you like it so much, why don’t you wear it, then?”

He lowers his arm, slinking his head slightly to the side and tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, the edges of his mouth twitching cheekily. “I don’t think all my bits and pieces would fit inside these stockings properly.”

She unclasps the pin that holds the cape closed, pushing it off her shoulders as she sing-songs her words teasingly. “Won’t know until you try it.”

Harry puts the articles of clothing back into their designated spot. “You’re no fun.”

His focus dances to a few hangers down, a random twinkling nabbing his curiosity. He moves the surrounding pieces away with the back of his hands to get a better look, a smile creeping across his face at the fit.

“Hey, babe. What d’you think of this one?”

Y/N glimpses up from fiddling with the bendy devil tail, scoffing in entertained delight at the sight before her.

Harry stands with his elbow propped on the top of the metal clothing rack, his legs crossed at the ankles with the tip of his worn tan boot tapping at the sleek black floor beneath it. He’s decked himself out in full angel attire, a light-up, wire-supported halo flashing brightly above his head, alternating patterns between quick bursts of yellow light and longer, drawn-out fading. The wings across his back span about four feet in total, strewn with white and gold holographic feathers, some covered in glitter.

“I think you look dashing.”

Harry pushes off the metal rail, the whole set-up quaking a bit under his strength. He ambles over until he’s right in front of his girlfriend, holding his arms out to his sides grandly. “I think I look dashing, too.”

He then turns his torso to the side, propping his chin on his shoulder and batting his lashes, going for a faux effect of adorable pureness. “Personally, I feel like I’d blend right in.”

His eyes suddenly ink black, dark veins protruding under his waterline and snaking their way down his cheekbones. “I’m as innocent as they come.”

Y/N glances up at the ceiling with pretend mild annoyance, irises focusing back on Harry with the left corner of her lips curved, her sentence deadpan. “I beg to differ.”

Harry drops the act, a look of insulted shock painting over his features as he carefully removes the halo headband from his quiffed curls. “You don’t think I’d play off being a good angel?!”

Y/N reaches over his shoulder and gives the tip of one of the fluffy wings a signifying tug. “Frankly, I don’t think you’d get past the gates. You’d get smited on sight.”

He gently grabs the hand that was playing with a gold polyester feathers, sifting his fingers between her’s and thumbing over the back of her knuckles temptingly. He cocks his head sideways a tad, stepping forward until his chest is ghosting over Y/N’s, the air of his sultry words just barely caressing her lips. “Maybe you could sneak me in, then?”

Y/N squeezes his digits playfully, snorting softly. “And why would I do that? So you can wreak havoc in the dining hall?”

Harry releases a boyish giggle, the edges of his eyes crinkling as his nose scrunches. The childish grin slowly melts into a brazen smirk, teeth gnawing at the inside of his lower lip as some very explicit scenes bounce around the inside of his skull. He shakes his head lightly, making a low mm-mm sound to hint that he has other plans in mind.

“Want you to sneak me in so you can take me up to your room. Show me around a bit— beginning of the universe memorabilia sounds interesting.”

“Yet something tells me prehistoric rocks aren’t why you’d want me to sneak you up to my room.” She gives him a knowing stare, the pad of her thumb toying with the glossy black surface of his painted index nail.

“Well aren’t you a clever little thing?” Harry leans in closer, his lip piercing grazing the skin along her jaw, settling nice and snug right against her earlobe. Her blood feels like it’s boiling.

His whisper send tendrils of electricity revving across her temples and down her neck.

“You’re right, though. Honestly, I just wanna fuck you on your bed instead of mine, for once. Make you whine and whimper for me to let you cum, all right under your dad’s nose. Make you stain your sheets and leave a few nail notches on your headboard.”

“Harry, we’re in public...” Y/N’s urgent murmur is warm against his neck, causing him to whine deeply in the back of his throat as the heat washes down his jugular, leaving his ears tingling.

His voice is thick and full of gravel as he answers. “I know, makes it so much hotter.”

He pauses his breathing for a heartbeat and Y/N gets the sensation that he’s analyzing her. She then feels him press a conceited grin across the back of her jaw, his two front teeth nipping at her earlobe tauntingly. His tone is heavy with arrogant certainty. “You’re wet.”

She digs her nails into his knuckles, looking down at her feet out of embarrassed instinct. “Shut up.”

He ignores her request. “I’d have to muffle those pretty sounds you make— we both know how loud you are. Would cover your mouth with the palm of my hand while I spread your thighs with my hips and fill you up with my cock until you feel it at the pit of your tummy. I’d run my lips across your stinging nose and hot cheeks, hushing you and mumbling dirty things against your skin. Telling you what a good girl you are for me and how tight and warm you feel. How good you’re taking me and how cute you look all sweaty and needy, trying to keep quiet so no one finds out you snuck a demon back home, all because you wanted to get your brains fucked out with everyone right outside the door.”

A sudden prickling slithers up the back of Y/N’s neck, her muscles tightening in heightened anticipation. “Someone’s watching us.”

Harry’s arm wraps around her waist, the hand holding the halo sliding over Y/N’s hip and maneuvering her out of sight of the prying eyes he can feel burning into his broad back, piercing right through the material of his leather jacket. He glimpses over his shoulder, catching a snapshot of the culprit peeping into their exchange: an elderly woman, partially hidden behind the black and orange tensile decorations, staring at them with disgust.

Harry mumbles a quick basic spell under his breath. “Dis.”

Push.

The aged woman spontaneously jars forward, stumbling out of sight down the aisle she’d been loitering.

Harry cranes his neck back towards his girlfriend, a happily satisfied smile staining his lips. “Took care of it.”

Y/N’s wide, astonished gaze leaves the empty space where the target had been, zoning in on her boyfriend with alarmed outrage. “You just shoved an old lady!”

His giddy grin immediately drops into a confused frown. “And?”

Harry didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to go wider, but she puts rest to his doubt.

“And?! She could be hurt!” She immediately slaps his hand off her hip, releasing their conjoined fingers and smacking her palm across his chest as a repercussion for his actions (though he barely feels it).

He rolls his eyes at her theatrics. “She’s fine! It was a light graze.”

“It was a satanic spell!”

“She was intruding!”

“Oh, and that warrants you pushing her down the aisle?”

There’s a halt in the argument, followed by Harry’s eyes darting across different points of Y/N’s face— her tinted lips, her creased brows, her slightly flaring nose, and her faintly glowing eyes. The look in them is intense and begrudging.

He hadn’t even realized his lips were parted in aroused surprise at her vehement outburst— she always looks so hot when she’s mad. He licks over them lightly, willing them closed and exhaling loudly through his nose. His eyebrows jolt upwards with salacious intent, the corners of his pursed mouth following suit. “Are y’gonna spank me for it, then?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” Harry pecks the tip of Y/N’s nose and steps sideways, purposefully leaving just enough space for Y/N to squeeze between his chest and the clothing rack.

A swift peek at the designated aisle confirms that the woman is indeed fine (just a little bewildered) and Y/N is finally able to move past it, though still grumbling condemnation.

She pulls at the thick clear straps of Harry’s fake wings thoughtfully. “We still haven’t found any costumes.”

“Speak for yourself. I think I’m gonna go as Captain Jack Sparrow over there.” He hooks his thumb towards where he’d hung the pirate costume while he tried on the angel props.

Y/N squeezes the cushioned bedazzled devil horns, an idea dawning. “What if we go as each other?”

Harry raises a single brow, intrigued. “Well, that’s an idea.”

“It’d be a cute couple’s costume!”

He removes the wings from his back. “I dunno. I quite like my pirate costume. I look great in black liner.”

Y/N pouts, though he doesn’t think she notices, which makes it all the cuter. “Pleaseee?”

He lightly tugs at the collar of Y/N’s striped t-shirt. “I could be persuaded...”

She huffs. “Why are you such a handful?”

He taps the pad of his index finger against the faint hollow at the center of her throat. “I’m more than a handful and you’re well aware of that.”

She forces herself to keep a tab on the electricity threatening to brim into her irises. “Please?”

“Say it again. Love the way your voice sounds when you’re begging.”

She narrows her eyes at him, irked (and slightly aroused, though she’d never admit it) at the way he’s being so crude. “Pretty please?”

The sensual touches at her neck halt, the atmosphere suspended for an elongated second. “Pretty please...?”

His tone suggests he’s waiting for her to utter something more, eyes waltzing with pompous appeal at the way she’s stroking his ego.

Y/N grinds her teeth, jaw muscle visibly ticking. When she speaks, her voice is low and timid. “Pretty please, Daddy?”

The amusement swimming in the amber specks around his pupils translate across the ends of his mouth. “Sounds like a plan. Cliché, but I’ll bite.”

She clears her throat to break the puncturing sexual tension. “We just have to figure out the outfits to wear with the accessories. It can’t be that hard, right?”

Harry smiles confidently, dozens of combinations of clothing already buzzing around his mind. “You leave that to me, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t disappoint. He brings the rest of their costumes home the next day after three grueling hours at the shopping mall, carrying two frosted plastic covers over his shoulders (as well as an exhausted yet triumphant expression) when he saunters into the living room.

Y/N falls in love with her fit before it’s even fully out of the bag.

It’s a two-part velvet design and it’s absolutely dazzling. The main statement piece of the garment is the actual pantsuit: flared cuffs that cut perfectly just below her ankles, the soft fabric a pigment mix between a bright red and deep maroon. As the eyes draw upward, the suit ombrés into a murky black; by the time one’s sight gets to the bando-style top, the color is solid. The accompanying second half of the outfit is a blazer, tinted the same shade of maroon and covered with carefully embroidered crystal clear gems, resulting in material that both absorbs and reflects any light that hits the jacket, giving it bewitching juxtaposition. The cuffs and grand folded collar are lined with elegant glittered lace— a small detail that makes a world of a difference.

The beauty of it draws attention, clutching it effortlessly and Harry knew it would match her ideally the moment he laid eyes on it at the store.

He even managed to work an aspect of his little skimpy dress fantasy into the mix: the red-bottom heels. They compliment the look down to the detail with the chic, dark glossy surface on top and the flashy red lining along the underside. The model of the pumps is sleek and tapered, made to give an air of sensual confidence to anyone who dons them.

He doesn’t regret a single cent of the thousands he’d spent— the way his girlfriend’s eyes are twinkling with enamored awe makes it more than worth it.

Y/N had been rendered speechless as she passes the pads of her fingers gingerly over the plush velvet, almost as if she’s scared it will disintegrate if it wrinkles. Her voice is a stunned murmur. “Jesus, Harry...”

“You like it?” He sets his own protective carrier down along the arm of the couch, the blurred plastic keeping its contents hidden.

She holds the top portion of the pantsuit up to her chest, trying to imagine how it’ll look with her hair and makeup done. “Like’ doesn’t even come close.”

Harry smiles shyly as he takes the spot beside her, chest fluttering at the notion of making her so happy, fingers rising up to mess with the hoop piercing hooked along his eyebrow— a bashful mannerism. “Good. Always love making your eyes glow like that. Metaphorically speaking.”

Y/N laughs lightly at his joke, face shimmering with a certain loving warmth that makes his insides stir.

Harry drops his hands into his lap, leaning a bit to bump her shoulder jestingly with his. “Where’s my thank you?”

Y/N returns his gesture, hugging his gift to her stomach gratefully. “Thank you. You spoil me rotten, honestly.”

He ducks his head down to press a lingering kiss to her temple, inhaling her scent of lavender and cherry blossoms and baby powder and another odor he can’t quite place but it reminds him of a time in his life long ago when he was happy and fulfilled and loved. “I’d do anything for you.”

“You better stop before my eyes start glowing non-metaphorically.”

Harry’s full-hearted chuckle chimes the air like a thousand bells. It dies down slowly, his forehead pressing against her cheekbone, the tip of his nose brushing across her skin in a caring manner. When he speaks, his voice is gentle and raw. “Can I have a kiss?”

Y/N bobs her head, craning her face towards him, their noses bumping. She flushes her forehead to his, gazing deeply into his irises as they twinkle with delicate admiration.

Contrary to the usual, there’s no lascivious teasing or suggestiveness in Harry’s behavior; just simple, subtle affection. And the fact that he’d asked permission makes it sweeter. It’s intimate moments like these that make her cherish giving love a chance.

She buttons her lips to Harry’s tenderly, feeling him sigh dreamily through his nose. It’s not a messy kiss, there’s no desperate sexual drive behind it. It’s homey and mellow, like a hug from someone long lost.

It lasts a solid ten seconds before Y/N draws back, dwindling the singular kiss into a dozen tiny pecks across Harry’s cheeks, nose, and eyelids until his face is puckering up at the feathery sensation, lashes fluttering open sleepily.

Y/N sponges her lips between her boyfriend’s brows with finality. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She attentively eases the cover back over her expensive present, zipping it closed and making sure the metal bit doesn’t catch on the cloth. She lays is out across her lap, already glancing over Harry’s shoulder investigatively, trying to make out what he had bought for himself.

“So what’s yours look like?” Her hand stretches out towards the costume with the intent of undoing the zipper.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Harry’s fingers come town over the top of her own, smacking them away humorously.

Y/N’s head reels back quizzically, insulted.

He shrugs his brows ominously, one of his large, ring-clad hands streaming across the bag protectively. “It’s a surprise.”

“That’s not fair!” She exclaims adamantly, though the giggles escaping her are doing a horrible job at backing her claim. “You got to pick mine and I can’t even take a peek at yours?”

Harry defends his secret with another playful slap at her insistent hand as it attempts to reach below his arm. “You know how much I love edging.”

Y/N slumps her shoulders dramatically, the weight of the mystery already itching the back of her brain. She doesn’t know how she’ll be able to put up with it for the next couple of days. “Can I at least see the shoes?”

Harry shakes his head, an evilly delighted simper coiling onto his face. “Nope.”

“Unbelievable.” She snips, crossing her arms over her stomach.

“‘Good things come to those who wait’ and all that.”

He’s having way too much fun with this.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him challengingly. “I’ll have my way when you’re asleep.”

He belts out a laugh. “Over my undead body.”

With that, Harry springs up from the couch, jetting towards the stairs that head up to the top floor of the condo, the forbidden costume in tow.

“Hey!” Y/N vaults up to chase him, well aware of all the possible hiding places scattered upstairs. It’ll take her ages to find it; by the time she does, it would already be past the date.

Harry has a decent amount of time ahead of her, his lanky legs taking the steps two and even three at a time, easily leaving her in the dust. How he keeps from slipping on his jack o’lantern socks is beyond him.

Y/N scurries up the spiral staircase after him, both of their airy giggling bouncing off the intricate metal railings and dark hardwood panels.

Harry stumbles into their room and slams the door shut behind him with a simple spell, the lock magically flicking shut. He’s laughing so hard his stomach aches, whipping around on his heels to keep alert as he backs into the room, picking his brain for a proper enchantment. He mumbles the invisibility incantation out of breath and half-snickering, but gets it out nonetheless.

“Fallax flamma, ignis de potentia, et in abscondito, ego ignire te evanescit.”

Cloaking flame, fire of power and concealment, I ignite you to vanish.

A blinding red and blue flame engulfs the entirety of the plastic cover, extinguishing almost immediately, leaving behind no trace evidence of the object he had under his arm moments ago.

And without a second to spare, the door flies open, Y/N rushing in with a victory elating her features. “Gotcha—!”

Her head swivels from side to side, confusion furrowing her brows as she takes in the image of her boyfriend’s empty arms, alongside his smug, self-satisfied expression. “Where’d it go?!”

Harry creases his brows to mimic her own baffled appearance, mocking. “Where’d what go?”

She ignores the dig. “You can’t possibly have hid it that fast! Not unless you used…”

Realization floods her face. “Cheater!”

“It’s not cheating, it’s called using my resources.”

“Cheater!” Y/N reiterates, lunging forward and koalaing her arms and legs around Harry, sending him stilting back and crashing into the mattress, the duvet rising up in a puff of fluffy black cloth.

His back bounces three times against the bed yet she manages to stay latched on, her knees digging into his hips as her hands fumble to pin down his wrists.

He fights back, wriggling from side to side to try and shake her loose, kicking up his legs wildly in hopes of teetering her off. “This is wrongful punishment, I didn’t even get a fair trial!”

Y/N ducks down, running her soft lips over the spot where his neck meets his jaw, knowing full well it’s one of his most ticklish places. She whispers her words warningly. “Let me see it.”

Harry can’t help the high-pitched, half-suppressed laugh that escape him, jitters coursing through his bones, stemming from the area where her mouth rubs along his heated skin. He wills the bubbly shrieks to die down, teething at the ring that adorns his bottom lip, eyes alight with pure ecstatic energy. “No.”

Y/N shrugs off his refusal, her supernatural strength proving valuable as she manages to keep her boyfriend stretched to the sheets. “Fine, then. Guess I’ll just have to torture it out of you.”

Harry sticks his tongue out at her mockingly, the ruby gem piercing glinting in the faint, grey evening light streaming in freely through the large glass wall that overlooks the city skyline. “Guess you will.”

Her method backfires almost immediately.

Harry’s sneaky ways and matching inhuman strength accomplish to outmaneuver her. After a fair share of complaining grunts, palms slamming against cheeks, carefully coordinated pinches to side, and a somewhat harsh tug to her hair, she ends up splayed over the mattress beneath him, heaving shallowly as he traps her forearms against his chest, nimble fingers wrapped around her wrists.

Harry kinks his brows up boastingly. “How’s that, then? Taste of your own medicine.”

Y/N squirms excessively, but slipping free seems unlikely. “I could totally kick you in a really sensitive place right now, but I won’t.”

He calls her bluff, words sticky and warm against her chin. “It’s in your best interest not to considering you’ve taken a liking to bouncing on it.”

She yanks at her arms almost savagely, snapping her head sideways to avoid him taking a piss at her as her irises flare up a pale neon blue.

Harry ends up getting his way. The costume remains unseen until the night of the Halloween party, hidden in some tear in the universe where he knows she won’t be able to find it.

It remains in its magical alcove until Harry summons it out after his shower, hanging it on an unused towel hook on the marble wall.

He gives it a calculating once-over, chin propped on his loose fist, elbow supported by the wrist of the arm he has swung across his torso. He sways ever so slightly, the towel clinging to his hips dangling dangerously low on his structured pelvis. His wet curls caress the back of his neck, mopping over his small ears and itching his brows, resulting in Harry combing them out of his face with his fingers and sighing lightly.

He taps absentmindedly at the center of his plump lips, running the pad of his index digit along the ridges of his bottom one, feeling the smallest bit off since his piercing is lacking in its rightful spot. The things he does for the authenticity of the look.

The hand across his stomach clenches and unclenches thoughtfully as he chalks up the details of the full costume in his head, cracking each of his knuckles one at a time with his thumb as he dwells on his ideas. He can never seem to stay still when he’s plotting.

He glances down at his nails, smiling fondly at the white lacquer Y/N had painted on them to go with his theme. He knows the suspense has been killing her and it amuses him to no end.

Harry rummages through the bathroom cabinets, retrieving his hair drier along with his favorite mousse. Y/N’s makeup bag also makes it onto the counter, as well as his Dove Fresh Cucumber deodorant, cologne, and a pair of dangley pearl earrings he’d acquired as a gift centuries ago from a French noblewoman more than willing to give him what he wanted (in more than one sense).

He knows exactly what his costume is going to look like now and he doesn’t waste a second in beginning preparations.

On the opposite side of the door, Y/N thinks quite the contrary— he’s taking forever to get ready, the minutes wasting away just like her patience.

The plan had gone as intended, to an extent. They’d handed out candy to all the children that had come and she’d even weaned Harry into buying a cute jack o’ lantern bowl to set the mood. She enjoyed seeing all of the creative costumes the kids had conjured up; she thinks her favorite was probably the ten year old girl dressed like Thanos from the Avengers movies. Y/N’s favorite part had been the gauntlet, which had carried different colored Jolly Ranchers in place of the Infinity Stones. Quite clever, if you asked her.

There was an incident with a twelve year old who gave them attitude for their choice in the candy they gave out, but Harry handled it before Y/N could even react. He’d crouched down to her level, mumbled something unintelligible, and then from what Y/N could see in the split second that it occurred, flashed her his demon face. The preteen fled without a single word.

He had pushed himself back up with his palms to his knees, brushing past Y/N into the apartment, grumbling under his breath. “Entitled miscreants.”

No more kids ventured towards their door after that.

She had been the first to get ready, well aware of how long Harry tended to take when preparing himself to go out.

He casually suggested that it would go by faster if they showered together, not to mention it’d “help the environment and what not,” though she knew his intentions would likely set them on a detour. He was playfully insistent, however, and she ended up having to shove him out of the bathroom with his underwear already half off.

After she had cleaned up and blow dried her hair accordingly, she left the bathroom to him, deciding to finish getting ready in the bedroom to avoid being late (and also because she knew he wasn’t going to let her see him putting on the costume).

“I know we have an eternity to live but try not to fill it all up with your showertime.” She’d quipped as she drifted past him on her way out of the foggy, humid washroom.

A sudden tug at her towel had sent her hands fumbling, just barely managing to keep her chest covered. Harry’s snickering had bounced off the shell of her ears. “I make no promises.”

Now Y/N sat on the large bed, distractedly rocking her heels back and forth against the thick-carpeted ground, running her fingers over the silky velvet fabric of her flared pantsuit as it bunches around her thighs.

She isn’t one to brag or boast because she had been wired to be humble, but she doesn’t think she’s ever looked better. The suit fit her perfectly, all of the seams and cinches falling exactly where they should. The jacket was loose enough to be comfortable but snug enough that it hugged her shoulders properly, not to mention the inside was made of velvet, as well. The wide-legged portion of the fit stopped just below her ankles, giving away to the shiny, midnight-tinted glassy shoes. She’d practiced her walk for about ten minutes.

Her hair is parted to the side, the front section pinned back from her face to showcase the makeup she’d applied. She’d tightlined her eyes with black kohl eyeliner and a red lip pencil she’d had to make due with (which she’d ducked into the bathroom to get, disappointed when she didn’t see the familiar plastic covering hanging anywhere along the walls) and applied the bright red lipstain Harry had gotten for her.

Around her neck lays a delicate gold chain, Harry’s large ruby ring glittering at its center. He always loved seeing something of his on her and he always joked about how this specific act was a vintage antic that dated back to the nineteen twenties; girlfriends would wear their boyfriend’s rings around their necks as a symbol of love. The first time he’d mentioned it, she had fallen head over wings for the idea— fallen for its simple yet deep meaning. And it just confirmed to her that under the layers of the hard exterior he donned, Harry was a hopeless romantic at heart (despite the fact that his no longer beat).

Y/N thumbs over the big stone encapsulated in the aged gold band, sighing restlessly through her nose as the pattering of the water echoes through the walls of the bedroom. He’s probably taking this long on purpose and she has half a mind to stalk in there and drag him out by his wet curls, but she refrains. His surprise better be worth it.

The water spout creaks to a stop, the only sound resonating in the bathroom being Harry’s faint humming to Thriller as the door to the shower cracks open loudly. Fucking finally.

Y/N scampers onto her feet, nearly breaking an ankle as she forgets her choice in shoes. She heads towards the washroom door with an attentive stride, rapping her knuckles on the wooden door lightly, voice tinged with irritation. “Are you done?”

Harry chimes back, tone full of airy, cocky humor. “Not quite. Still balls-naked, but I suppose I could go like that, if you want me to. Don’t mind it.”

“Just get dressed already, would you? You’re taking forever.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of being ‘fashionably late?’”

Y/N growls in exasperation, crossing her arms and pacing back and forth in front of their bed, trying to reign in her nerves. Going to a party where she barely knows anyone is bad enough, but Harry isn’t easing her woes any by being a little shit.

On the other side of the wooden door, Harry is finger-combing mousse through his hair as he harmonizes to Monster Mash, twirling strands here and there around his index finger to accentuate the ringlets just the way he likes. He flips his head over, mussing up the roots to ensure the soft volume and fullness he’s so known for. He always takes his hair seriously— a residual mannerism from when he had it shoulder-length for almost a decade.

Blow drying doesn’t take long and he’s buttoning up his top before he knows it, leaving the last three buttons undone to expose his swallow tattoos and upside down cross necklace, the antennas of his butterfly inking peeking out from the edge of the open shirt, along with the curved tips of its wings.

He fishes out a couple of products from Y/N’s cosmetics pouch as he wiggles his toes into his new shoes, zipping them up with finality and leaning in closer to the mirror for the makeup application.

Once he’s finished and everything has been returned to its rightful spot, he spritzes a few pumps of his Tom Ford cologne across his flexing necking and down his jaw, capping it and giving himself a thoughtful once-over in the mirror. He’s proud of what he’d achieved.

He murmurs a spell, retrieving the halo and wings from the magical storage facility he’d placed them in, fitting them onto his costume and humming in approval.

The door to the bathroom swings open, startling Y/N enough to trip up her angry loitering.

Harry steps through the frame of the door, completely decked out in his attire for her to witness in its fully glory. “Let the switching hour begin.”

Y/N can’t stop her jaw from dropping in astonishment.

Harry looks incredible— breath-takingly ethereal, to say the least. She scans the look from bottom to top, taking in every detail slowly, feeling almost as if time had slowed down around her.

It starts with the footwear. They’re a pair of glossy, bright white heeled boots, silver metal tips adorning the front of the shoes. She’s never seen anything like it and knowing how dramatic Harry can be, she wouldn’t be surprised if they’re custom.

The boots disappear under the flared cuffs of the off-white, wide-legged pants he is sporting, the fabric ironed and crisp, complimenting his height. They’re high-waisted, ending just above Harry’s navel, the front embellished with two parallel rows of gold buttons, each engraved with a capital, Roman-font letter G that glints under the soft, buttery low light of a single lamp.

His top is probably the statement piece of the layout. It’s a baby blue long-sleeved button-up blouse with a frilled collar and cuffs, the buttons decently-sized opal crystals that shimmer holographically with every movement. The fabric of the cloth presents a similar effect, the material frosty and see-through with reflective, multi-colored sparkling fibers sewn in. The shirt is tucked into the high waist of Harry’s pants, fitting loose and flouncy around his torso, the twinkling faintness of the thread juxtaposing the darkness of his tattoos in an unexpected yet flattering manner. It hugs his shoulders and back tightly, muscles rippling the cloth in a way similar to how a stone wrinkles the surface of a still lake.

The layers of the collar ornament Harry’s sharp jaw and grace the intricate pearl earring dangling from his right ear. She takes notice of the inversed cross necklace resting at the center of the valley that is his chest, glinting with a type of poetic irony. His fingers are garnished with his usual plethora of rings, his two blocky initials hugging his second middle finger and pinky amidst an array of gems and carvings.

Though the dazzling clothes and expensive jewelry are eye-catching, Y/N can confidently say Harry’s makeup is the real caviar of the entire look.

White liner runs across his waterline and over the crevices of his top lashes, opening up his eyes and making the olive tone of his irises pop more than usual. Glitter has been strewn across the curve of his cheekbones and faded up onto his temples, the holographic flecks of pastel blue, baby pink, and snow white glued down securely and glimmering under the flickering light-up halo. The lustery specks have also been combed into his fluffy, soft curls with a dash of gel, twinkling like a billion little stars. Evenly-spaced rhinestones decorate along the curve of Harry’s thick eyebrows— a final touch of grandeur that pairs adequately with the rest of the accessories.

Harry lifts the palms of his hands upward expectantly, giving a slow twirl and showing off the glitzy wings (which mold into the look effortlessly). “So, what d’you think?”

Y/N puts all of the pieces of the costume together in her brain, attempting to process it all at once and being rendered utterly speechless. The broadness of his body— the thickness of his chest, how his biceps and back muscles strain the dainty material of the top, his towering height with the heels, his sharp, defined features— contrast the delicateness of the fit, but it somehow it works. It somehow makes heat pool at the pit of her stomach and makes her ears crackle with spurts of electricity.

All she manages to croak out is a quiet, tender, “You look pretty.”

This sends Harry into a round of light-hearted giggling, his smile more blinding than any of the flashy props he carries. He glances down, zoning in on the metal tips of his boots to avoid her noticing the blush invading his cheeks. He pushes it down, scolding himself for being so mushy.

He clears his throat lightly, giving a quick glimpse over her own costume. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Y/N instinctively looks down at her outfit, grabbing the excess fabric around her thighs and curtsying jokingly. “Thanks, my boyfriend picked it out.”

Harry tilts his head to the side, his two front teeth digging into his bottom lip, eyebrows jolting knowingly. “He has great taste.”

Y/N steps closer to her boyfriend, draping her arms over his strong shoulders, the corners of her lips twitching. “Yeah, but he takes centuries to get ready. That’s kindof a trade-off.”

Harry’s hands coast onto his girlfriend’s hips, squeezing jestingly as he draws her body flushed against his, the golden buttons of his pants cold against the ombréd cloth of her pantsuit. “He sounds like an ass.”

She wobbles her head from side to side as if mulling over his comment, eventually nodding in agreement. “He is.”

His jaw falls open into a shocked smirk, raising his eyebrows in silent objection. “Is that so? Why do you stay with him, then?”

Y/N’s palms glide down the taut muscles of Harry’s arms, the pads of her fingers pressing into his skin suggestively. “He’s got a few redeeming qualities.”

Harry’s heavy lashes dust over the tops of his cheeks, catching a few stray particles of glitter that shimmer alluringly in the dim lighting. His forearms suddenly tighten harder around her waist, pulling her so close she can feel his groin pressing into her thigh. His tone is slathered with arrogant self-assurance, the ghosts of the words dancing across her stinging lips and her eyes nearly roll back as whiffs of his intoxicatingly delicious scent numbs her sinuses.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Y/N has a hard time swallowing, feeling her voice lodge in her throat as he begins brushing his lips up and down her jaw. “I’ll keep that to myself.”

Harry chuckles deeply and she can feel the vibrations down to her bones. “S’okay, I’ve got an idea of what you meant.”

“You sound awfully confident.”

“I speak from experience.”

Y/N moves her face back a tad, noticing that her fingers had somehow ended up tangled in the chain of his necklace, tugging at it so hard it's bruising Harry’s throat. He doesn’t mind it— he liked the burn.

He ducks down further, wisping his mouth over her’s, groaning lowly in the back of his throat when he sees her lips are stained with the tempting red color he’d picked out. “Your mouth looks so pretty like that. Bet it’d look even better skimming down my chest and over my thighs.”

His hold has her leaning back so far she’s now balancing on the tips of her toes, her chest heaving slightly against his. “Bet it would.”

Harry reaches one hand up, cupping her jaw with his fingers, his thumb rubbing slowly over her bottom lip, watching the color transfer faintly. “Wouldn’t mind some of the glitter on my face ending up across your inner thighs, either.”

A small whine strains the back of Y/N’s throat at the image of Harry’s head ducking between her legs over and over, the white liner smudging under his eyes due to sweat while her damp skin rubs the glitter off his cheekbones, his ringed fingers clamping over her plush thighs as the light from the moon bounces off the glossy surface of the white nail polish.

Harry presses a warm, sloppy kiss to the center of her jugular, her knees quaking as heat surges through her veins. “Some of it on your fingers, too, from pulling at my hair.”

He slowly dips his thumb past her lips, it’s weight heavy on her tongue. She acts on impulse, closing her mouth around it and sucking drunkenly.

Harry’s teeth skim along the side of her neck, a breathy purr of, “That’s my good girl” simmering her nerves.

Her words are muffled and weak, but she manages to get them out into the open. “We’re gonna be late.”

It’s not that Y/N doesn’t want to because, fuck, she wants to, but she knows that Harry would leave her a disoriented mess for the rest of the night, and it’d be pretty obvious. The last thing she wants is his friends teasing her about it— the mortification would be eternal.

He sighs grandly against her throat— which nearly sends her crumpling to the floor— and reluctantly pulls away.

Harry knocks his forehead against her’s, his sparkly lashes dusting her eyelids as they barely conceal the puncturing sexual hunger glinting in the amber flecks around his pupils. “You’re lucky the pantsuit is a one-piece or I’d have you riding my face right about now.”

With that, he refixes her crooked demon horns atop her head, retrieving the cape, clip-on tail, and pitchfork from where she’d placed them on the bed. He tangles their fingers together and yanks a very hazy, unbalanced Y/N towards the door.

She stumbles after him in her heels, gaining enough footing to avoid rolling as they descended down the stairs, the sounds from both of their shoes pounding hard inside her temples. Harry hands her the rest of her costume, grabbing his favorite navy blue trench coat from it’s hook next to the entryway and shrugging it on, carefully working his hands through the sleeves to keep the frill detailing from bunching up. He pats down his pockets to make sure he has his keys, fishing them out with his index finger as he unlocks the front door.

He steps off to the side for Y/N to go through first, kissing her cheek chastely as she brushes past him with a tiny, soft, “Thank you.”

“Of course, darling.” Harry follows her lead, turning back to lock the door to their apartment, checking the knob the same way he’s done his entire life.

Y/N loops her arm around his as they walk towards his car, the chilly air rustling her velvet jacket and drying the light sheen of sweat that had accumulated across her hairline. The moon hangs calmly amongst the stars, illuminating the high points of Harry’s face in a very fitting heavenly manner, the soft sounds of chirping insects and hooting owls setting a comfortably spooky tone for the rest of the night. A few straggling trick-or-treaters are turning in for the night, exchanging happy halloween’s and heading towards their complexes.

The beeping of the car rings across the still air along with the quick flash of the headlights. Harry opens the door for Y/N, just as he’s always done, helping her get settled into the passenger’s seat. He then leans down a tad through the frame of the door, fingers tapping at the hood of the car, eyes half-lidded in a sly simper.

“Just thought I’d tell you in advance, you might wanna get the situation between your thighs settled before we get to the party. I’d be able to smell how wet you are from a mile away.”

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sincerelyreidburke · 5 years ago

Note

Questionnaire for the rat bf, if u can?

Real Touille stan hours. Thank you. Ace rights. Let’s go under the cut and do the whole damn thing!!

Here’s the questionnaire of pride asks for the crickets! Send me anything!

I’m answering this entire thing “as” Touille, so be aware of that.

1. what is your sexuality?

I’m asexual!

2. what do you identify as?

I use the term aro-ace, for the most part. Or just ace.

3. how long have you been aware of your sexuality/identity?

Okay, well, I’ve known as long as I can remember that I’m not into romance or dating. I never understood, growing up, why everyone was always asking me about girls or why there was so much romance in the media. But if you mean knowing the word for my sexuality... then not that long, actually. It was during fall of freshman year, and the upperclassmen started talking about Winter Screw, which was coming up. I kind of freaked out when I realized it was a dating thing, because I didn’t want my roommate Francis (or anyone) to pick a date for me. So I had a little panic moment, and then Bully asked me if I was asexual. I had no idea it was a thing, but it was the best epiphany. I’ve felt so much more comfortable in my own skin since I learned there were other people like me.

4. do you have any preferences?

For, like... dating? Not applicable, I guess.

5. share a positive memory about coming out!

Because I realized I was ace in front of all of SMH at team breakfast, I didn’t really have to come out to any of them. And I haven’t really come out to that many other people, because I’m not sure my parents or my mémé would think it’s a real thing, but I did have a good experience coming out to Quinn! It was, like, two weeks after I met him, and they were doing this double-date thing with him and Nando plus Ben and Gina, who he was dating at the time, and, well, anyways, Quinn thought they were excluding me? And he said, oh, Remy, do you want to come? Are you seeing anyone? And I said, oh, no, I’m asexual, actually. And it was really nice, because Quinn just smiled and said oh, that’s lovely! I love your pride flag! and we moved on. It was really validating. Also it was the first time I really came out to anybody at all.

6. how do you feel about pride month?

Ben and Nando introduced me to the concept of pride month a few months before pride month actually happened for the first time since I met them. I like pride month because I send bad memes to my friends, and also because it’s fun on social media, but... in my regular life, I don’t really get to do that much for pride. Except the summer between sophomore and junior year, Ben came up to Quebec and we went to pride. Which was really fun, actually. And also, at the end of freshman year, Quinn sewed pride patches for a bunch of people, and he gave me a little circle that’s a hybrid of the ace flag and the aro flag, so I pin it to the hat I wear when I work at my papa’s crêperie in June.

7. do you participate in pride related events? any other events?

On the night of Winter Screw freshman year, Bully brought me to this party at his friend’s apartment, and introduced me to a bunch of other ace people. Apparently, they have this top-secret ace club??? It’s not an official campus club or anything, but they just... host parties sometimes, especially on nights where dating stuff is happening on campus, like Screw and also Valentine’s Day. I don’t know if that really counts as a pride event, but it makes me happy. It’s all kinds of people, from all over the Samwell community, and it’s really cool.

8. how do you feel about lgbtqa roles in media?

I wish there were more ace ones.

9. do you feel pride in who you are?

Honestly, yeah, I do! I’ve never really been ashamed of my identity, even before I knew there was a word for it and a community of people like me. The only time I’ve been discouraged about it is thinking about how the world is so romance-oriented, but that’s not really about myself; it’s kind of just frustration with the way society is.

10. who has been your supportive idols in your self discovery?

Bully! He was the first person to say the word ‘asexual’ to me, and he and I have been really good friends the whole time we’ve been on the team together. He teaches me about ace stuff and we usually sit together on the bus. I don’t think I would even know about asexuality at all if it weren’t for him. Okay, well, maybe Ben would have taught me eventually. But still. I’m really grateful for Bully.

11. tell us about your first crush?

Hahaha, not applicable. But I can tell you about my first real squish, if you want? Bully taught me what a squish is. It’s like a friend crush, but a little different than just wanting to be friends with a person. It was Ben for me.

12. what sort of advice to have you lgbtqa teens?

Well, for ace teens, you aren’t broken and you’re whole on your own. Never compromise the way you feel for other people’s sake.

13. have you come out to friends and family?

I’m ‘out’ to all my closest friends, but not to my family. Like I said, I’m not so sure my parents would think asexuality is even a real thing. They just think I’m taking a long time to find somebody.

14. how do you feel about the term “coming out”?

(Mel talking...) Click here for Touille’s answer on this one!

15. do you believe there is a “closet” to come out of?

For me? Not exactly... not really. Aside from generating annoying comments, coming out as ace doesn’t endanger me directly in any way. I’m lucky, because I know that’s not the case for every ace person.

16. any tips on coming out?

Oh, man, I’m definitely not qualified to give coming out tips.

17. what’s your biggest pet peeve when it comes to lgbtqa characterization in media?

(Mel again!) Here’s Touille’s answer on this!

18. what’s your favorite parts of lgbtqa characterization in media?

When I actually see aro and ace characters. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a confirmed one, but I like projecting onto characters without a love interest. Jughead from the Archie comics? Obi-Wan Kenobi? Merida, the Scottish girl? Asexual icons, and thank you for asking.

19. what did your teachers say about the lgbtqa community in school?

My teachers said little to nothing. I went to a French Catholic high school, and I think they ignored it on purpose.

20. do you practice safe sex with the same sex?

Haha, not applicable.

21. what’s an absolute turn off for you in people?

Also not applicable, but in friendship terms, when people don’t shut up about themselves. I can’t stand huge egos. There were a lot of them in juniors.

22. what’s an absolute turn on for you in people?

Definitely not applicable.

23. how do you feel about lgbtqa clubs/apps/websites?

I like browsing AVEN and the LGBT+ parts of Reddit. And we have the unofficial ace club on campus. Bully calls it the ‘ace gang’.

24. how do you feel about the term “queer”?

My friends use it all the time, but I don’t really say it that much. I don’t have anything against it, it’s just not something that’s really part of my vocabulary. I don’t find it harmful.

25. how does your country view the lgbtqa community?

Canada has a long way to go on some social issues, but as far as I can tell, LGBT issues are pretty okay. We have a reputation for being more liberal than the US, which I guess is true in some ways, but things aren’t exactly perfect. But LGBT Canadians are a lot luckier than LGBT people in other parts of the world.

26. favorite lgbtqa actor/actress?

I’ve been trying to think of an example of an ace celebrity, but I’m coming up short.

27. any tips for heterosexual people on how to handle lgbtqa events/news?

Just listen, honestly. And stand up for people who are being picked on or shamed.

28. what’s the most annoying question you have ever gotten?

Definitely “when are you going to find someone?” I can’t stand that question.

29. how do you feel about receiving questions about your sexuality/identity?

As long as they’re not in the vein of, like, you know aces aren’t LGBT, right?, then I actually really enjoy getting questions about my identity. Because people in my general life don’t tend to care that much about hearing about ace experiences (except my friends, who I love), talking about it comes sparse. Thank you for asking me all these questions, by the way! I feel appreciated.

30. what is your romantic affiliation?

I’m aromantic. :)

#oc taddies #crickets #rat boy #pride asks #cricket pride

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ladykateofledfordpark · 5 years ago

Text

All the Time in the World (Dan x MC)

This fic is inspired by day 24 of the Choices July Challenge hosted by the amazing @kinda-iconic under the profile @choicesjulychallenge !

Dedicated to @mariaoz and @lady-kato , my wonderful friends who helped me so much in this fic!

Tagging also the wonderful @jlpplays1 @itsbrindleybinch and @desiree-0816 ! You’re the best! =D

Day 24 Prompt: Memories

Pairing: Dan x MC (Jade)

Summary: Prom arrives, and Jade has no date. Is this the perfect opportunity to do something?

Unedited.

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

Somehow, after everything they endured, prom arrived. Dan didn’t know what to expect from it, but he hoped this time he won’t end up staring at Jade the whole dance.

If he was honest, he didn’t really know how exactly it happened. After the terrible ordeal in Mr. Red’s house, Dan found himself growing closer and closer to Jade. He may have been closer to Stacy beforehand, but life changed the both of them. Stacy started hanging more and more with her cheerleader friends, while he drifted away from them. Jade was so kind, so welcoming, Dan quickly realized how much he missed her in all those years they were apart. Somehow, he felt like she was the only one who understood.

So he opened up little by little, until one day he reached an unsettling realisation.

He trusted her. More than the others of the group, more than his family, more than anyone else. Jade was the first person he would turn to when he needed help, and he hoped she saw him the same way.

“Hey,” Dan approached Jade once the dancing started. She sighed, but didn’t look at him immediately. Her posture was stiff as if she was standing in the spotlight, one of the worst experiences Jade could ever experience. He traced her gaze to Lucas, who was dancing awkwardly with Ava. She didn’t look heartbroken, but rather bitter.

“I could’ve been there. At least then I would have someone to dance with,” Jade pouted. Dan smiled, and when Jade’s eyes met his a similar one bloomed on her face.

“You’re acting as if being single at prom is the worst thing that can happen to a person.”

“Almost as bad as being Prom Queen.”

“At least then you don’t have to dance alone.”

Jade laughed. “True.”

They watched the dancing couples, and something about the sight made Dan itch to do the same. A part of him urged him to do that, while the other whispered for him to run as fast as possible somewhere safe and Jade-less.

He decided to go with a compromise.

“Let’s head outside.”

It wasn’t a strange request. In their friendship, Dan and Jade spent many evenings outside, sitting and talking about whatever they wanted. They both preferred that simple quality time over anything else, and these meetings were Dan’s favorite moments of the day.

But if he was honest with himself, every moment with Jade was a treasure.

They walked outside and sat on a cold bench. Usually, Dan was very at ease with Jade, but now he fidgeted. Not every day could he find himself sitting in a tux next to a beautiful girl in a shimmering gold dress. This situation was familiar yet still strange, almost as if it was a dream he once had and forgot. And maybe he did. Ever since Winter Formal he’d been hoping for this moment, in which he would take Jade’s hand and ask her how she felt.

And he would totally do that... at some point. Which was not today.

Dan gazed at his surroundings. Behind him stood the whole school structure, while ahead of him lay the fairly-packed parking lot. To his right was the forest, and to his left the town. Just like always he sat there, wondering what he would have done if he was here so long ago. How would it have been to watch the skeleton monsters attacking homecoming?

Maybe, if he wasn’t under Redfield’s control, he could have… no, would have come. Maybe, in this moment, he wouldn’t be shifting uneasily because Jade would already have given her answer.

However, that wasn’t the case. Something, maybe some force up in the sky, decided then that he needed to be a weird zombie version of himself. He did get the short end of the stick, for sure, but his moment with Jade, deep in that forest, made one thing clear. They shared something special between them, and Dan was lucky he had the opportunity to explore it further.

“It’s nice out here. Cool and comforting.”

Dan met Jade’s eyes, and at that moment he wished he could capture her in a photo. The way her eyes shined, as if she was a brand new person, set his heart pumping faster than he knew was good for him.

Somehow, she succeeded in making his body act like that. Just like, so long ago, she managed to help him escape from Redfield’s control.

Jade really was something special, undoubtedly.

“Doesn’t it bother you seeing Lucas like that?” Dan found himself asking. He shifted slightly, and somehow his arm brushed hers. A strange rush of warmth passed through him, but he forced himself to act nonchalant. The last thing he wanted to do was to give Jade any unease.

She shrugged. “We parted on good terms, and it was fairly mutual, so… no. We’re still great friends, but more like Lily and I. Nothing romantic there.”

“Really?”

Jade didn’t answer immediately, as if she was weighing her words carefully. “Honestly, we’ve been more like friends for quite a while now.”

Dan studied Jade carefully. She shied away from him, refusing to meet his dark eyes. What was she trying to say? Was he wrong to hope that maybe-

“That’s why you broke up?”

“One of the reasons.”

Before Dan could say something else, Jade changed the subject. “I’ve missed you, you know. Back then, with Mr. Re- I mean, Jane.”

“When, exactly?”

She blushed. “Well, I’m not sure exactly. Maybe ever since you entered the hospital, and the rest of us got to know one another better. Maybe… later.”

Dan swallowed. Why was there suddenly so much tension between them?

“Later?”

It was strange to see an uncomfortable Jade. If Dan himself wasn’t nearly as flustered, he may have reveled in it. “Later as in…” she released a heavy breath, “um… homecoming.”

“Oh.” Would she have asked him out if he was awake then? “I wish I could have been there.”

Jade swallowed. “Yeah, but… you’re here now.”

“I am.”

She turned, so she was once again looking into his eyes. Her shoulders were set like that of a warrior’s, and her eyes were more exasperated than ever. “So… do you want to dance, as a way to make this up to me?”

Was it him, or was her voice still slightly uneven?

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Dan hesitantly answered. He got up and held out his hand, as if he actually knew what he was doing. Jade smiled before she put her hand in his. Her body was still tense, but her steps were confident, as if she knew exactly what she wanted. She led him far away from the bench, so they had enough room to comfortably dance.

“So, what exactly are we dancing?”

Jade’s eyes sparked. “Let me pretend, for one moment, that I’m not single.”

He swallowed. “Slow?”

How did his heart manage to pump even faster?

“Got it in one.”

“Alright.”

Jade’s arms circled his neck, and Dan forced himself to wrap his own arms around her waist. Somehow they started swaying to nonexistent music, almost as if they were rehearsing for a big scene at the end of a play.

This was strange, but since when was his life not unusual?

“Not bad,” Jade smirked, “almost lets me forget that I still don’t have a prom date.”

Was it too much to say that he wanted to be her date?

“Don’t look so tortured,” Jade laughed, “there’s more to this dance.”

“Of course,” Dan smiled weakly, and Jade’s smirk immediately disappeared.

“Are you uncomfortable? Because if there’s someone else you want to dance with, it’s okay. I was only joking.”

Dan didn’t know what to say. “No! This… is nice. Like really nice. I-”

A slow smile gradually rose to Jade’s face, and she daringly pulled Dan closer. He could swear that at that moment his heart beat as if he just ran a marathon, and his breaths grew quicker and shallower. Did she notice his strange behavior?

“I have one more question.”

Dan nodded uncertainly. “What is it?”

The mischief twinkled in Jade’s eyes, and once again Dan was struck with how beautiful this girl was. He needed to come closer, but there was no way he would force himself on her like that.

So he forced himself to stay put as Jade’s warm breath touched his ear, her lips whispering words he never thought he’d hear.

“Kiss me.”

Dan froze. He blinked as all the doubts in the world rose inside him. He was probably just hearing things. There was no way that-

“Of course, you don’t have to, but it will help me. And friends help each other, don’t they?”

“Yo-you’re absolutely sure?”

She pulled him so close that their heads were nearly touching. Jade smiled, the sight sending strange tingles down Dan’s whole spine. “Positive.”

She gazed at him expectantly, and a small smile rose to Dan’s face. He gently cupped her face, his thumb rubbing gently on her cheek, before he lowered his head. His lips carefully brushed hers, and suddenly Jade kissed him back. It was strange, this feeling, but Dan dreamed of this moment for years, and he wasn’t going to let anything ruin it. Not his doubts, his worries, his messed-up life. Nothing.

Once they parted, Jade beamed at him. She searched his face for something, and once she found it her smile grew even larger. She laughed wholeheartedly, and Dan gazed at her with all the affection he could muster. This was so amazing, the last thing he wanted was this all to be a means for escape.

“I’ve waited for this for quite a while,” Jade smiled.

“How long?”

“Longer than you, I’m sure. You know, I broke up with Lucas because of you. It’s just that Lucas and I weren’t much of a couple anymore, and… well, I started having feelings for you.”

“Really?”

Jade nodded. “You never take a hint, do you?”

“Well…”

Jade laughed. “No, you don’t have the guts. I had to do it all, huh?”

His cheeks heated up. “I’m sorry. I should have-”

Jade’s warm hand tilted his head so he looked right at her, her eyes so much darker and deeper than before. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Somehow, they started dancing again. Dan sunk in the sea of his thoughts, until one floated to the surface. “So what are we now? Are we still friends?”

Jade shook her head. “I’m friends with Lucas, Dan. But you… well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go out on a date.”

“I’d be happy to.”

Jade’s cheeks reddened slightly. “Good. At least I won’t be single anymore.”

Dan smiled at her, and she winked at him. A strange sense of content settled on both of them, and so they continued dancing like that. Slowly, yet as if they had all the time of the world in their fingertips.

And at those moments, Dan could’ve sworn that really was the case.

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domitiann-blog · 5 years ago

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Who am I?

I recently did an interview with my friend who works as a social media influencer for her newly launched website. Im reposting the content here & I hope the answers give some insight into who I am & perhaps the misunderstood world of sex work...

So tell me more about yourself. What do you do for living and how would you best describe your job?

Hey! My name is Ethan and I am a male escort based in London working both within the UK and internationally. Perhaps adult entertainer better describes what I do as I do/have done strip teases, live performances and adult party hosting (there are probably a few things I’m missing out)

On a functional level what I do can range from helping individuals to access intimacy all the way through to exposing people to a variety of sex or a quality of sexual experience they may not typically have. This might mean a quiet date, a holiday somewhere exotic, a tantric massage, a night of wet & wild fun with multiple orgasms…or all of the above!

More generally, I have a degree in Politics, Philosophy & Economics. I do gymnastics and triathlons for fun. I guess the typical view of an escort is of someone looking to make money in the short run to support an addiction of some kind but for me sex work has been the most fulfilling job I’ve had and I’ve had some pretty good jobs. I certainly wouldn't recommend it for everyone but for a very select group it can be a very positive lifestyle.

Tell me about the first time you received money? What motivated you & how did you feel after your first client?

The first time I received money from someone it was actually the second time that I had been propositioned and based on stories I have exchanged with friends this is not uncommon! I was approached by a man who said that he was involved with a modelling agency and would like to put me on their books and so I gave him my contact details. It later turned out that he wanted to spend sometime simply looking my body and then to watch me masturbate for, what was to me then, a large amount of money. So as a young man with a high sex drive and exhibitionist tendencies there seemed like very little downside. Afterwards he cooked me dinner in his penthouse apartment and we played on his playstation. Although the nature of our sexual encounter was different in some ways, it was actually quite similar to other sexual relationships i was having at that time.

I encounter quite a lot of interest overall (i hope this doesn’t come across as big headed, its more a reality which has lead to what i do) and am very sexually active. At that time, i felt the financial incentive was more of a way of deciding how i was going to spend my time and plentiful sexual energy rather than for any ‘service’. I’ve always just been myself and that slowly became quite lucrative. At the start it was definitely not a conscious career choice like becoming an accountant or an actor or anything like that.

What’s your price list?

This varies too much based on currencies, locations and time scale for me to give you an accurate picture. I will say that unlike many female escorts, prices are for time rather than a specific ‘act’ or ‘service’ and I always make full use of that time and sometimes run over having lost track. Escorts who formulate their prices in the first way i described are mostly working in a very different market though and are not in fact formulating their own prices. However this is a topic that i think we will touch on later in the interview.

Can you describe the people who pay for your time and services? What gender are they? Which services are they usually asking for?

Wow, how much time do you have?! Haha. The spread is more diverse than you might be able to imagine and some of them you may actually know! In fact one of the things i love about escorting is how diverse a spectrum of people I know and connect with. I am quite a people-oriented person and people will sometimes trust me with a side of themselves they don’t show anyone else. Over time, i have acquired a vault-like inventory of insights on how people think and feel in their most secret thoughts & when they are most vulnerable. When people meet me they will often remark that I have a different outlook on life and i believe this is partly responsible.

I see females, males & couples. As an assertive 6 ft 4 male i tend to attract individuals of a more submissive disposition who access intimacy most readily through strong guidance & instruction both inside and outside the bedroom. This means that most frequently individuals will come to see me to experience domination, tantric massage or for me to be their ‘boyfriend-for-the-night’.

What are you’re limits in your job?

My sexuality aligns more strongly with what my role in the bedroom is than what the gender of my partner is. Submissive acts of any kind simply don’t turn me on and its important as a male that i am enjoying myself if you catch my drift haha 😛!

Drug use and unprotected sex are also major no’s for me and are unfortunately highly prevalent in the world of escorting. I did once spend a week with an individual who wanted unprotected sex but we both agreed to get a full sexual health screen before and after! I also get tested every 3 weeks.

Humanity and escorting/prostitution. What is your personal and honest opinion about the work you do? Were you ever judged harshly when you revealed that you are an escort..? If yes, how and why do you think people judge the job you have negatively?

I touched on this briefly earlier but the first thing to say is that there are two clear & distinct fields within “escorting”.

First is what I would refer to as the “independent” escort. These range from the student looking to make some extra money to highly intelligent individuals who have found success leveraging their social & sexual skills into a fulfilling lifestyle. We advertise through independent advertising sites or agencies that take a pre-agreed percentage of what we make and make arrangements for us.

The demand for ‘sexual services’ is deep rooted in society and using a currency to expedite that process is fairly well established in not just human civilisation but the animal kingdom. One study into our closest animal relatives, the chimpanzee, showed that when a currency was introduced into their social ecology the first thing they did was trade it for sex! So sex work in some manner was always there, it remains here and is here to stay; so should our response as a society be to condemn something that is an upshot of who we are as humans? No. In my opinion understanding and accepting the independent sex worker is the best way to prevent escorting becoming the dark, exploitative activity which people confuse with what i do. The best way for society to deal with it perceives to be its ills is to, to quote Karl Jung, ‘integrate its own shadow into the whole’…

The second type of escort is the “trafficked” escort. These are mostly female and are brought into the country either by a boyfriend or a cartel of traffickers usually against their will or under false apprehensions. The entire business end is managed by minders and little to none of the money reaches the woman doing the ‘work’. These girls are advertised through ‘massage parlours’ and occasionally through independent sites. A couple of my friends have worked as ‘madams’ in the brothels where these girls sometimes work and the stories are so bad that they would never even find their way into the most explicit documentary. This is the part of escorting that is damaging to peoples humanity, is exploitative at every stage of the operation & has practically no cross over with what some of my friends & I do.

Was I ever judged harshly? Once or twice...but escorting is only one small part of who I am. I also have a degree from one of the best universities in the UK. I do gymnastics & triathlons, I read loads, love art, etc. so i don’t need to hide any part of myself. I simply try to be tactful so that the preconceived notions people have don’t prevent them from seeing all of who I am

I expect people to always challenge what i do. It makes me question where i am in my life. Is escorting still right for me? It is right now but in 6 months or a year who knows where life will take me...

What is the the most unforgettable experience or moment from your job?

Thats a difficult question to answer. Australia was my favourite travel location although its sufficed to say that I enjoy sun, sea and sex! I am always happiest being active and healthy outdoors.

What does love mean for you? Have you ever been in love? Does your heart belong to someone at the moment?

It’s rare that someone engages me on an emotional level. It’s not my natural posture. However, conversely my friends would probably describe me as verbally and emotionally articulate. As I see it this comes down to a preference for remaining in control but doing so by understanding what’s going on rather than shutting things out.

Amorous love for me is. Hmmmm. Well i’d most succinctly describe it as - surrender, but defined within reason; not to a fatalistic degree like teenagers or Romeo & Juliet haha! I think there is surrender involved in finding the compromise that it takes to form a bond with someone regardless of whether you call that person your partner, your lover or even your submissive!

I was in love a few years ago but right now my heart belongs to myself, the gym & my passport and I’m happy just like this right now haha.

How do you imagine that right person with who you would like to live and build your life together..?

I don’t have a clear picture of anything for my future in that way. I am the author and director of what is to come. I don’t have any intention of releasing myself into the hands of fate and hoping my future turns into a dream i once had or a story i read if you see what i mean. I have hopes for the future but not expectations. When i meet someone, regardless of who they are, i hope that they will meet and surpass everything i believe about the positive capacity & potential of humans but I expect that a lot of the time both them and I will fail to live up to this because we are all imperfect. For me its important that people I’m with treat me with this same reasonable attitude and understanding. Sometimes when people meet me and know what i do and see my pictures and social media they forget that i have my own idiosyncracies and flaws like everyone else.

The only firm criteria I have is that I am able to have the same wild adventures with that person that I have on my own or with friends. I’ve been fortunate enough to have seen some amazing things and anyone i am with longer term needs to expand the scope of my life not limit it.

What are your plans for the future?

My goal is to continue to do what I’m doing and over time develop the personal training that i also do into a fitness business. I am going to become qualified to instruct swimming, yoga, gymnastics & triathlon in addition to qualifications i already have and use them to build a company that focuses on truly functional fitness through sport. When i go into gyms I find it hard seeing how poor most peoples general understanding of training, sport & their own body is. There is so much to learn from sport that can be applied to those with more of an interest in general fitness.

Please, share with me your secret dream?

Unfortunately if i told you…it would no longer be a secret 😛

Thanks for talking with me!

No problem

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mydearestreaderfanfics · 6 years ago

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Blood-Thirsty Babe (Lotor x Reader)

Warnings: alcohol, blood drinking (he's a vampire ya'll)

Word Count: 2,600

Prompt/Request: Twelfth day of the October Special: Vampire.

Summary: A vampire masquerade is all good fun, especially when another person dressed as a vampire catches your eye. Except maybe he's more than just acting like a vampire...

Author: Mod Alex

“So how’d you meet?” Oh boy, here we go.

Halloween was one of your favorite holidays; one of the main reasons this was true was because of the major costume party that your bestie held every year. She was in a sorority meaning the party was huge. Anyway, you had to go because like you said, your best friend was hosting it. This year you were going as a vampire. Allura, your bestie, was also hosting an after-party party that was a masquerade of sorts, the only catch: it was a vampire masquerade. Most of the party goers didn’t know this key fact. Only her, the sorority girls, and a handful of other volunteers were going as a vampire, but everybody was expected to go in the closest Victorian garb they can find. You were one of those volunteers. A trip to a handful of thrift stores and a stop at the Hot Topic and you were good to go. Allura had assured you that it would be plenty of fun, and you were sure it would be, but you were still pretty sure you’d dip in and out of the party throughout the night just to get a break from the fangs that were pushing against your gums uncomfortably.

The pre-party, or the first party, was fun enough- if parties were your kind of thing, that is. Allura was a queen when it came to hosting events, all the sorority girls were, it seemed. There were drinks galore, most of which were booze, meaning the party-goers were having no difficulty getting into the mindset to dance without inhibition. The furniture was overturned and most of the rooms had become occupied within the last hour that the party had been raging on. Truly it was a party worthy of the silver screen. You were already tired. The music blaring from the speakers mixed with the flashing lights was giving you one hell of a headache. You stepped out, relishing in the cool night air, it was a nice reprieve from the suffocating heat from inside. It was weird, after being in a space filled by so many other people, the absence of any life outside felt wrong. Like really wrong. It felt like someone was watching you. You shook the feeling off, deciding that maybe the party inside was in need of your return. Besides, you needed to help Alura set up the masquerade soon.

Since there was too many passed out drunks, and one hell of a mess, the masquerade was to be held at a different location- the dance floor they’d secured a month ago. Since the whole thing was a fundraiser, the expense of the lavish party room was more than covered, thankfully. When you got there, Allura and some of the other volunteers had already done a decent amount of set-up. Some decoration still needed to go up, and a few items at the food table needed to go out, but aside from that, you all were golden. “(Y/N), make sure you get into costume. The guests will be arriving soon.” Oh, you also needed to get into costume still. The extravagant outfit was far from easy to slip into, and the fangs were just as uncomfortable as you remembered them being. Oh well, at least you could still talk with them in. By the time you got done changing, guests had already begun to filter in. They were delighted to see you all were vampires. It added a level of mystery and seduction, you supposed. This party, you’d admit, was much better than the previous one. It was just as loud, but at least strangers weren’t trying to grind against you here. No, people were really getting into the theme of masquerade and pretending like they're a bunch of heirs and heiresses attending an elaborate royal ball. It was kind of fun to sink into that persona, you'd admit. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t getting into character too.

“Pardon me, darling, I don’t mean to burden you, but I must say that necklace adorns that tender neck of yours so splendidly.” You flashed a dangerous grin at a girl and she giggled and blushed. “Thank you kindly. It was my mother’s y’know. Pure silver.” “I see. 'Tis a right shame that such a lovely young woman is to wear something that must keep me from her.” She giggled again before resuming chit chat with her friends, occasionally eyeing you with interest. It was a part of the job- flirting shamelessly with the guests. Direct orders from Allura. Internally you were screaming with social anxiety and awkwardness, on the outside, however, you were as suave as the vampires in the movies. Truly a modern-day Louis de Pointe du Lac.

“Pardon me?” You put on a smirk before turning to face the guest. “How may I assist such a fine spe-” Your voice died in your throat. In front of you was the most attractive person you’d ever met. Piercing violet eyes (surely they had to be contacts), hair so blond that it looked nearly white (and wow it looked so fluffy and soft), and a smirk that put your faux vampire smirk to shame. You honestly felt kinda weak in the knees just being in his presence. He looked more amused by you than infatuated which was a minor major blow to your ego, especially since you were sure you were practically ogling him just now. “You can help me find something to drink. I am horribly parched, you see.” Oh right, you were one of the helping crew here. He wasn’t here to dance or flirt- no, he was here to ask you to find the damnable bar. “Of course my good sir, although I must say no drinks here would be as satisfying as your blood.” That line had worked at least twice tonight so when he laughed- actually laughed, you felt a little discouraged. When he finished laughing, he straightened himself back up. “Sorry, darling. Is that really what you silly mortals think of us?” Oh shoot, was he one of the volunteers? You were sure you hadn’t seen him during set up earlier. Maybe he got here late? “Oh my gosh, I didn’t realize you were helping out here too. I feel like an idiot now, haha.” You laughed at your own expense, relieved that he was joking around with you and not acting like an ass at your mistake. “Helping here- yes I suppose I am.” Huh, guess he didn’t want to break character. You stopped walking once you were at the bar. “Here you are, my good sir.” He chuckled. “Thank you, my dear, although it seems they don’t have what I wish to drink here.” What? The bar had at least 20 different kinds of drinks and that wasn’t even counting the alcohol. “It doesn’t?” “No, but I suppose if I must, I will settle for a red wine.” As he ordered you couldn’t help but muse over the fact that he really was like a vampire- he played the role well. “It’s quite stuffy in here, wouldn’t you say?” You quirked an eyebrow at him, he smiled in return. “Would you care to get some air with me?” Years of watching over Allura at bars and making sure you didn’t get dragged away into an isolated space with a stranger told you that no, going outside with him was dangerous. On the other hand, he seemed nice and you really could use some air. “Sure, but I gotta be back in here soon, so maybe we can head to the balcony?” A safe compromise you reckoned. “I couldn’t have chosen a more preferable meeting spot if I tried.” He walked in front of you, leading you to the balcony. As he walked, you noticed how sure his steps seemed, how he seemed to glide with each step. He oozed elegance, and as you followed him, you noticed the jealous stares you received.

The balcony was closed off by a set of thick Victorian style curtains. Lotor moved them aside so you could pass under them. He swept them aside like they weighed no more than a feather, although earlier when you had helped set them up, you had to have help because they were so heavy. You didn’t realize this until later, though. You did notice he no longer had his drink in hand, though... how odd. The night sky was out in its full glory that night. The stars looked like they'd been hung up one by one just to set the scene for Lotor and you. It was almost unbearably romantic. Why did you have to pick the balcony? At least you could still hear the chatter from inside. Lotor tilted his head up and the moonlight shone over him, making his almost white hair gleam ethereally. The night looked like it belonged to him- like he was the one who twisted the shadows and directed the moonlight. It was enchanting in the most predacious kind of way. “I would say this is much better, wouldn’t you, darling?” “Yeah, the night’s really pretty. The stars are almost never this bright.” You felt him brush a lock of your hair behind your ear, it sent shivers down your spine, but you made no move to stop him. The attention was actually quite nice. Especially since everyone just knew you as Allura’s less attractive friend. You looked over at the charming man beside you, he was already looking at you. Even the cool night air couldn't help ease the heat that had crept up your neck to your cheeks. “You have the most splendid eyes.” A squeak left you, your blush only worsening. “Thank you.” “Oh dear, I’m being too forward aren't’ I? I haven't even introduced myself.” He took your hand, bowing in front of you whilst he pressed his lips against the back of your hand. His kiss was cold as ice, leaving a ghost of his kiss even when he pulled back. “I am Lotor, pleased to meet you.” The dated greeting left you reeling and you clumsily bowed back. “(Y/N), truly an honor.” When you righted yourself again, he was gleaming. (Y/N), what an enchanting name.” The way he spoke your name like it was a fine wine that deserved to be savored, made your heart skip a beat. “Thank you.” “Tell me, (Y/N), what do you think of the creatures of the night?” What? Was he talking about vampires? “I suppose I’ve always liked them? When I was younger I always thought it would be wonderful to be bitten, but I suppose that might’ve been the fault of certain movies and novels.” He grinned again, and you noticed the sharp incisors he had. You couldn’t help but wonder where he had bought such real looking fangs. “And do you still fancy them as much as you did in your youth?” Gosh, what were these questions? “I um, I suppose I do.” His wolfish grin widened. His hand was at your neck, but he was only cupping the side of it, his thumb gently brushing over your jugular. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of nerves and excitement thrumming through your body. “Such a wonderful neck.” He spoke more to himself than you, but you still heard it. He was really taking this vampire thing serious. At least, that’s what you thought until you looked up and saw his eyes- the sclera in his eyes to be exact- glow yellow, like a dangerous animal in the forest. The world around you spun, and despite yourself, you clung to him, like he would keep you from spinning away with the rest of the world. “Darling, would you mind too terribly if I drink from that flawless neck of yours. Your blood, I can smell it from her, you will taste exquisite.” Your breath caught in your throat. Your heart was gripped with fear, but your brain buzzed with eager anticipation. You weren’t really sure what you wanted. “I promise I won’t hurt you, darling. I can’t imagine causing such a magnificent specimen such as yourself any suffering. I will make the experience enjoyable for you.” When you spoke, your voice sounded faint, far away even, like you yourself weren’t the one talking, more like you were listening to someone in the next room talking. “Yeah, yeah okay.” Within seconds his lips were at your neck, you weren’t sure how he’d gotten so close so fast. He didn’t bite you right away, no, true to his word he was making you feel so, so good. He pressed a kiss to the area where your neck met your shoulder, trailing kisses up until he met the area above your jugular. He nipped at the area, not hard enough to puncture your skin, just enough to make your knees buckle and force you to grip onto his shoulders to steady yourself. He pulled back just enough to blow on your neck, the cold air sending tingles through your body. Seeming pleased with himself, he moved back in. His lips met the same spot they had been in before, pressing soft kisses. He pulled back again, although not as much as before, before biting into your neck. It felt the same way it had when he was just gently scraping your neck, only more pressure. If you didn’t know he was planning on biting you, you might have not even realized what he was doing. The quiet slurping noises probably would’ve tipped you off, though. He was sucking on your neck and a sigh left your lips. You’d probably have a hickey later, but right now you couldn’t care less about that. His tongue lapped against your heated neck, the contrast in temperature giving you goosebumps. You felt dizzy, although whether it was the blood loss or the pleasure you weren’t sure. He lapped at your neck one more time before pulling back. You’d always figured that vampires would look messier than they did in the movies, but no- there was a small trickle of blood on his chin, but aside from that he looked as put together as he did earlier. You, however, were sure you looked a hot mess. “You were even more succulent than I had imagined. Thank you, darling.” He seemed to notice your disheveled appearance and chuckled, not unkindly. “Oh dear, perhaps I got a little carried away.” “No, no. That was… good. Really good.” “I see, perhaps you would consider being my own personal donor.” That was probably a bad idea, but if it felt that good everytime, who were you to say no. “On one condition.” “Oh? What is your condition?” What was your condition- you really hadn’t thought this one through. “If I’m going to be your ‘donor’, the least you could do is to wine and dine me occasionally.” His confused look turned to one of amusement, pleased even. “Are you asking me to court you?” You blushed, realizing that yes, that was what you were saying. “Yes?” “Splendid. I would be more than happy to court you.” He leaned toward you, capturing you in a brief but absolutely spectacular kiss. He pulled away all too soon. “I’ll be seeing you soon, darling.” He turned and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. You bit your lip, turning back to rejoin the party, a smile on your features. Soon, huh? You couldn’t wait.

So yeah, that’s how we met.

#voltron #lotor x reader #fanfictions #prince lotor #alcohol #blood drinking #mod alex

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flameontheotherside · 6 years ago

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Kareoke Spareoke

😂👌 Idk why that sounds so funny.

Yesterday it was fun celebrating 4/20 with brother Jason. XD I'm dieing because Vanessa showed up and got to talking and pacing around. Then I had to holder her back. At least she praised me on my outfit and new diet choices. 🤣 As my higher/spirit self so part of her job is keeping me on my toes. Like diet and exercise and self care bullshit. She really has to learn how to compromise. The things I do for self-improvement...

I have to admit it was hilarious letting Vanessa to go on a tangent. Mostly telling me I need to tell my friend George he's Bragi. Was kinda drunk and tired so I said fuck it. 🤷🏼‍♀️ He's probably going to just say I'm insane and never talk to me again. Already braced myself for that a while ago... Texting that wasn't what I had in mind. I prefer to tell in person but being he lives 2 hours away I figured he wouldn't be in much a hurry to come see me again. 😂 Story of my life. Im reminding myself that I am still in a shelter and now, it shouldn't fucking matter.

I'm going to kareoke tonight.

Hoping they will be hosting tonight even though it's Easter. My mom is coming along with me and Isaac so that he doesn't think this is a date. Because it isn't. Because I still hate him.... But I feel bad for letting him help me with clothes and a new phone. Even though afterwards he told me he pulled out a gun on his son threatening to kill himself. Yep... So my mom is coming and I may ask Jason to be close by. I just feel like I owe him. Everyone says that he's trying to buy me back. The only reason he agreed to my mom coming is because he wants to impress her.

So why go out then?

Try being around ghetto, trailer trash, junkies, lying pieces of shit 24/7 and eing watched 24/7 . I'm losing my mind a little at a time being here. Since being here I've had two meltdowns from being stressed and 2 arguments with some of the jealous bitches in here. Someone also forced my mom to have an accident because someone who wasn't handicapped ignored my mom's plea to use the bathroom. She walks with a walker. The rude retard kept washing her hands... TWICE.

My mom filed a complaint and told me who did it...... 😡🤬 But if I see this women I will do something stupid...needless to say, if you don't hear from me, it's likely I've been sent to psych. 😂👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

😘💕💞❤️ Happy Easter!

Check out my store where I offer readings starting as low as $5/per question with a response at least 1 paragraph!

Please visit: Twin Flame Medium

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧Don’t forget to take a look at Erik’s blog ran by his amazing mom Dr Elisa Medhus. Lots of stuff about his afterlife and 💩 at channelingerik.com.

(◕‿◕)♡ Social: Twitter Tumblr Instagram YouTube Facebook

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traveller-lover-dreamer · 7 years ago

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Ballerina

Here is the first part of my Harrison Osterfield’s fanfiction! Have fun reading it! Don’t be afraid to send me feedback :)

Summary: Ever since Y/N Y/L/N has become a spy, she has been working alone to get to Nikolai Sakharov, a Russian criminal. Little did she know that her mission was about to change everything she thought she knew about her life.

Pairing: Spy!Harrison Osterfield X Reader

Words: 3680

Warnings: Swear words, it’s a spy thing so well of course it’s kind of violent, I think it’s all for this chapter

By the way, I don’t speak Russian, I had to use google for the words and they might not be accurate, I’m really sorry if they aren’t. Here are their meanings (or at least what I wanted them to be):

мадам : Madam

балери́на : Ballerina

Прощай : Farewell

Enjoy your reading!

Your POV

Your heels clinked on the tile floor as you made your way through the crowded room. Officially, you were Anna Ivachov, a rich philanthropist. Truly, you were Y/N Y/L/N. You had been an undercover spy for over a year now. The youngest in America. Orphan at a young age, the orphanage had quickly realized how intelligent you were. At seven years old you were already fluent in English, Russian and French. Since then, you had learned how to speak German, Italian and Spanish too. You had graduated from high school at thirteen years old. That’s when the CIA had approached you. Ever since then, you had been working for them, only becoming a spy last year, after training for approximatively seven years.

Right now, you were in London, in an antique auction assisted by the queen of England herself and probably half of the rest of the monarchies in the world. You were looking for Nikolai Sakharov, an old member of the KGB who had committed more than enough crimes in his life. According to your sources, he had planned to poison the queen tonight for a reason you didn’t quite understand. The queen had been told about that, thankfully, and she had refused to eat everything people offered to her.

You were convinced he was behind a couple of terrorist attacks around the world and he also seemed to be at the top of a sexual slave organization. Your bosses wanted you to terminate him tonight and you were more than glad to do so.

You scanned the room, looking for someone that might look like Sakharov. You had never seen any clear pictures of him, only satellite images that weren’t clear enough for you to be able to memorize his traits.

You caught sight of a man looking at you. He seemed about your age, his white dress shirt tight on his chest indicating he was cut. Could that be him? You considered it for a moment but he seemed innocent. Too young to be a crime lord. Too young to have been part of the KGB.

“Miss Ivachov, how lovely it is to see you here”, said a voice to your left.

It was Prince Harry. Prince Harry who never left you alone when you were in galas such as this one. He was probably the reason why you wanted it all to end as soon as possible. But for that, you had to find Sakharov.

“Prince Harry”, you answered.

You looked back to where the man you had seen was but he wasn’t there anymore.

“What are you looking to buy tonight?” he asked.

Your gaze went back to his and you smiled mysteriously.

“Only time will tell.”

He smirked and looked around the room.

“Do you want to come sit with me?” he asked as the lights dimmed.

“That is really kind of you, Prince Harry, but I would prefer to sit in my seat, if that is fine with you.”

He smiled, but his smile wasn’t as true as before. He nodded his head quickly.

“Guess that’ll be fine. See you soon?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course”, you replied.

On that, he made his way to the royal table and you walked to your seat amongst the rest of the philanthropists. As you passed a table surrounded by three men, you caught what seemed to be Russian being spoken. You smiled to one of the man courteously. He didn’t smile back, only keeping his icy stare on you as you walked to your seat. That had to be him. From what you had heard, the other men were talking about being compromised and that they had to go. But right now, they couldn’t, as the host of the auction started talking on the scene.

You sat down, your long black dress hanging closely to your body. It was opened along one of your legs and you made sure your knives weren’t showing as you crossed your legs and sat back in your chair. You kept Sakharov in your field of view as the night went on. When the break began, you saw him getting up. He said something in one of the other men’s ear and you noticed from the corner of your eyes that the man looked at you. Crap. You were going to have to be really careful in your next steps. Sakharov walked away, but his man didn’t stop staring at you. You needed to follow your target without it being to obvious.

You got up, looking around the room, localizing all the exits. You couldn’t see Sakharov anywhere, so you walked in the opposite direction. To send his man off track. When you arrived beside the wall, you noticed the man wasn’t sitting at his place anymore. Only one of the men was still sitting there. You looked behind you and noticed the man following you. Crap.

You walked slowly and you stopped a few times to talk to dignitaries from other countries. The man didn’t stop following you and you realized you would probably need to terminate him too. You made your way out of the room and asked to a butler where the bathrooms were. The man followed you still, so you entered the woman bathroom and locked the door behind you. You took your time there too, knowing damn well he wasn’t going to leave yet anyways. That’s when you heard him trying to open the door. You sighed. How come things never worked out according to the plan?

You waited as he was picking the lock. You smiled to yourself in the mirror, your eyes going to your bracelet. That bracelet was deadly. Inside of it hid a fine wire which had yet to kill a man.

The door finally opened wide and you faked being surprise.

“Excuse me, sir, what do you think you’re doing?” you exclaimed.

You were standing at the extreme end of the bathroom and he walked in, closing the door behind him.

“мадам”, he said.

You were no ma’am.

“You should get out”, you stated.

He laughed and shook his head. His mistake. A gun appeared in his hand as you jumped at his feet. He didn’t have the time to shoot before you used your wire to make him fall. You grabbed the gun in his hand as you got up. You never liked guns. They were loud and so not a spy’s weapon.

“Where is Sakharov?” you asked him in Russian.

He laughed before grabbing your leg. You lost your balance and fell to the ground, rolling out of his reach. The gun had slid across the tile of the bathroom floor, far from the both of you. He tried to hit you, but you were faster. You jumped out the way, drawing your knife at the same time. You stuck it in the man’s shoulder before pulling on one of the precious stone on your bracelet. And before the man knew it, you were strangling him with the wire.

“Where is he?” you asked again.

He tried to hit you but he was quickly losing strength. You loosened the wire around is throat and he took a deep breath.

“You won’t find him”, he said in English this time with a heavy Russian accent.

Too bad. There was nothing you could get out of him and you didn’t have the time to use some of the techniques you had learned that could get any man to talk.

When his body went limp, you let go of the wire, which retracted back inside of your bracelet. You swore as you saw your knife in his shoulder. You took it out, using his vest to wash the blood from it. You decided to take the gun too, knowing your fingerprints were on it. As if it was going to change anything, you technically didn’t exist nowhere in the world, your bosses had made sure of it.

You noticed the man had a watch as it lit up. It was more of an Apple watch and you could read the text he had just received, which only said roof in Russian. You quickly made sure you didn’t have any blood on you before getting out of the bathroom. The auction had begun again and you were glad to see the corridor was empty.

You made your way to the staircase that led to the roof as fast as you could. You knew the building by heart and it wasn’t long before you stepped outside in the cold night air. You could see Sakharov in the distance and you started walking towards him. He was looking the other way.

“You are a bold one, aren’t you?” he said as he turned around to face you.

You pointed the gun towards him. He raised his hands, a smile growing bigger on his face.

“You won’t shoot me, I know.” His Russian accent was heavy and that’s when he switched to the actual language. “балери́на.”

The word echoed through your mind as you remembered dancing ballet as a child. It meant ballerina and Sakharov saying it took you off guard.

“What did you say?” you asked, lowering your gun without even realizing it.

He only laughed. You felt uneasy under his stare. You heard the sound of the door opening behind you and you turned around. The man you had seen before was standing there and he was pointing a gun to you.

“Прощай”, said Sakharov and when you turned your head towards him you saw him jumping off the building.

“Don’t move”, ordered the boy as you were about to run after Sakharov.

“Who are you?” you asked as you mentally cursed him for making you lose your target.

As you said that you heard the sound of a helicopter rising and you looked back to where Sakharov was standing before. He waved from the helicopter and then it was off.

“I could ask the same question to you”, he replied. “Everywhere I’ve looked I haven’t found a single trace of your existence. Anna Ivachov didn’t exist before May last year. Who are you?”

How the hell did he know that?

“I work with the MI-6”, he explained. “I found the man you killed in the bathroom and if you don’t explain yourself right now, you’ll see I’m not fond of asking questions.”

You felt relieved as you understood he technically wasn’t a threat. You dropped your gun and raised your hands.

“I work for the CIA”, you admitted reluctantly. “And you made me lose my target. An entire year of efforts all gone in an instant.”

He lowered his gun.

“I’m Harrison Osterfield”, he presented himself. “Sakharov was my target too.”

You felt mad at him for saying that. Why the hell did he interrupt the only chance you had ever had of killing Sakharov then?

“Lately, I’ve been more concerned about you though. My boss won’t like to know the CIA acted behind our backs”, he continued. “I hope you don’t mind following me to MI-6’s headquarters.”

In that moment, you decided you hated that man. One entire year of efforts had all gone in flames because he had decided to show up when you were about to terminate Sakharov. Now, you would have to begin again from scratches.

“Do I really have the choice?” you asked.

He smirked and it only made you hate him more.

“I’m glad we understand each other.”

You sighed before following him to the staircase. As you walked down the stairs, you suddenly had an idea. Probably the worst idea you had ever had in your entire life but all your training had never prepared you to face a situation like this one.

You pulled on the stone of your bracelet and jumped on the young man’s back. He almost fell, which meant you would have both crashed down the stairs, but he somehow stayed still. You tried strangling him, but he had put one of his hands under the wire. His other hand flew to your head and he grabbed you by the hair. You hadn’t expected such resistance so when he pulled with all his strength on your hair, you screamed in pain and let go of the stone, the wire retracting to the bracelet. He then threw you over his head and you fell in the stairs. You crashed in the wall at the bottom of the flight of stairs and your head hit the wall. You didn’t feel your body touching the floor as you struggled to stay conscious. The last thing you saw before falling unconscious was his black shoes and the black fabric of his pants.

Harrison’s POV

Fuck. He might have reacted excessively. Her mistake to have tried to strangle him. Harrison walked down the stairs and kneeled next to the young woman. He searched for her pulse and was relieved to see she was still alive. He never liked killing people, doing so only when he didn’t have any choice.

He took the girl in his arms effortlessly and he walked down the rest of the stairs and to his car. The butler didn’t move an inch when he saw him holding what probably looked like a dead girl in his arms but that’s only because he knew that he was working for the MI-6.

Harrison called his bosses as he was making his way to the headquarters.

“I caught the girl”, he informed them. “She says she’s working with the CIA and that Sakharov was her target.”

“What the f…” began the woman before she was cut by a man.

“Is she with you right now?”

“Yes”, he answered. “But she’s unconscious, she thought attacking me was a good idea.”

“Good”, the woman answered in a calmer voice. “Bring her to the headquarters, we’re going to keep her here until the CIA explains everything.”

On that note, they hung up and Harrison looked over to the backseat. The girl hadn’t moved an inch. He definitely had reacted excessively, she probably had a concussion or something like that.

When he got to the headquarters, he parked the car in the underground parking lot. He quickly got out of it, taking the girl in his arms. He brought her to the detention room and put her on the bed. Tracy, one of his co-worker, came in a couple of seconds later, as he was about to make his way out of the room.

“You should tie her up”, she said. “If she’s as talented as Gavin said, a lock on a door won’t stop her from escaping.”

If she was truly so talented, she wouldn’t have got caught, Harrison thought. He didn’t say the words aloud though.

He attached her with the straps on the bed, making sure they weren’t too tight and that they wouldn’t stop the blood from circulating. He looked at the girl’s face. She was truly gorgeous and he again felt sorry for what he had done.

“The bosses are waiting for you, by the way”, Tracy told him. “It seemed important.”

He nodded, never saying a word to her. He walked out of the room. He had never liked Tracy. She had always acted like they were more than co-workers and it pissed him off. It was unprofessional of her and he wasn’t working in MI-6 to meet someone. He knew better than to let someone walk into his life for him to lose them.

Harrison was about to walk to his bosses’ office when a door opened on his right. One of his boss, Dominic Holland, walked out. They were already in the observation room, realized Harrison.

“Good job, agent Osterfield”, Dominic said before pointing over his shoulder to the observation room. “Miss Frost is waiting for you.”

They both entered the room to see a single woman standing in front of the window through which they could look at the detention room.

“Y/N Y/L/N”, said Nicola. “Really frustrating to have not been informed of her presence on our territory.”

She turned to look at Harrison.

“The CIA reluctantly told us about her”, she continued. “Not much to know, her parents died when she was young and she spent her early years in an orphanage. Well, that’s what they said but we found nothing about her parents.”

She paused, looking back at the girl.

“Ghosts. It seems the CIA has erased everything about them.”

Harrison wondered why.

“It’s actually kind of sad”, added Nicola. “They started training her at 13 years old. They took her childhood from her.”

Harrison knew it was her mother’s heart that was talking at the moment. Mother of four boys, Nicola always tended to have a softer heart.

“She’s after Sakharov”, she said after a long moment of silence. “Since you’ve found about her, they want you two to work together to catch Sakharov.”

No. Harrison didn’t do teams.

“Miss Frost, I don’t think it’s a good idea”, he stated.

“And why is so?” asked his boss.

He was afraid to have to count on someone else. He preferred working alone because that meant only his life was in danger if something was to happen. He couldn’t lose another partner. Not after what happened to the last one.

“I work better alone”, he lied.

“Well, this time, you won’t really have the choice”, declared Dominic, talking for the first time. “They didn’t really give us a choice.”

Harrison sighed, looking at the girl.

“Honestly, after what I did to her earlier, I don’t think she will be able to trust me”, he stated.

“She probably saw you as a threat at the moment”, Nicola said. “After her bosses will have talked to her, she will agree to this. As I told you before, you don’t really have the choice. The same goes with her.”

Before he had the time to answer, the girl woke up in the detention room and she immediately tried to undo her ties.

“We’ll take care of her for now, you can go home for tonight”, indicated Nicola. “Be there tomorrow at 6.”

Harrison nodded and walked out of the room.

Your POV

You woke up with a pounding headache. You scanned your surroundings, not recognising where you were. You realized you were tied to a bed and you noticed there was a mirror on the wall on your right. What were you doing in a detention room?

You then recalled the night’s events and Sakharov’s voice echoed through your mind as you remembered what he had called you. That little word had confused you a bit too much and you had committed your first mistake because of it. Attacking the guy from MI-6 had been really stupid and you couldn’t help but to be mad at yourself. Seven years of training and you had acted like a child.

You tried pulling on your restraints but they were tight enough that you weren’t able to move. At least, they weren’t too tight but still.

How were you going to get yourself out of this situation? You assumed you were somewhere in MI-6’s headquarters, so you knew you weren’t in immediate danger. You knew they had probably contacted your bosses, so you didn’t really understand why they had tied you up. Until you realized they probably thought you were a threat. And they had all the right since you had come into their country without them knowing. Being discrete had always been your strength.

A woman walked in the room. She smiled kindly to you, but the man behind her had knives in his eyes. You recognised them as they walked to the bed. They were the heads of MI-6.

“You are truly impressing”, said the woman.

You tried to remember her name but suddenly your head hurt a bit more and you winced.

“You probably have a concussion”, she explained. “We need to get you to the infirmary.”

Great. As if you wanted to stay here a second more.

“We have talked with your bosses and they will eventually inform you that you are going to stay in London for a while”, she said.

“I think not”, you answered with a cold voice. “Sakharov wouldn’t have stayed in London, I need to find him.”

“Exactly”, she agreed, always with that kind smile on her lips. “You are going to work with one of our agents.”

You sighed, wishing you hadn’t been caught earlier, wishing you had resisted the urge you had to kill the man who had stopped you from terminating Sakharov.

“For the moment, we’re going to bring you to the infirmary, where you’ll be able to change in more comfortable clothes and we’ll let you rest until tomorrow”, the woman said, authority filling her voice.

“I would prefer not to”, you said.

“You’re working for us now, so you better not begin to discuss our orders”, the man interjected.

You sighed, realizing you were stuck in that situation.

“Yeah, okay, well, I want to talk to my bosses first”, you asked in a more sympathetic voice.

“Agreed”, said the woman before the man had the time to talk. “I’m Nicola Frost, by the way.”

She walked to your bed and untied your restraints. You sat up, wincing as the world started moving around you.

“Here, let me help you”, she gently said, putting one of your arms around her shoulder so she could help you to get up.

The man didn’t seem to approve but he didn’t move. Nikola helped you to get to her office, where you contacted your bosses. They told you the same thing Nikola and Dominic (you recalled his name now) had told you, so you finally decided to trust them.

When you were finally installed in the infirmary (where you were diagnosed with a mild concussion), you felt yourself relax for the first time in a year. Finally, you were somewhere safe, somewhere you didn’t have to be in alert at all time. You slowly sank into the mattress on which you were laying, falling asleep as soon as you closed your eyes.

Read part two here!

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #tom holland #tom holland imagine #harry holland imagine #Harry Holland #sam holland #sam holland imagine #hollander #thomas stanley holland #spy

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renegadesrpg · 4 years ago

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Paladin, Part 10. A Night At Ra’s. Viohlence and Ra

Ra:

+No, #Stephen I did NOT want those songs played. As a matter of fact, I specifically told you not to play them. This bar is to provide comfort and a relaxing environment. It is NOT a place to try out piano versions of Kanye's greatest hits.+

Frustration wells deep within me. I get tired of telling people the same thing 12 times and still looking like the bad guy. The one thing from my parents that still resonates with me is, "Listen the first time and life's easier." Other than that they never taught me anything worth holding on to.

I stand at the bar and take a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth followed by a deep drink of my favorite beverage, Henny. Ahhh better. Frustration gone, for now.

I look around seeing many familiar faces and a few new ones. One just walking through the door has my attention. He's extremely tall, well built, handsome, and has a look that could easily mean he's trouble. I should say hello, see if I can tell whether he IS trouble or not. Damn TatorTot for opening my eyes too much. I chuckle as I head to welcome my new guest.

+Hello, welcome to my bar. I'm Ra and you are?+

Vioh:

After I had ventured out in the city, the other night, wandering the streets of Charleston finding this amazing little antique book store where I found too many books I really didn’t need but had to have I’d gone to dinner at a quaint italian place. The food had been marvelous and the chef who was also the owner was just as amazing as her food tasted. We had spent about 5 minutes talking as she was on a short break and in that short time we managed to talk about both books and music. It was she who recommended this piano bar that I was currently standing just inside the door of. It was well preserved, the feel was old and 1900 feel but with a modern twist, cozy and relaxing yet welcoming and not cramped. As my eyes scanned the bar and stage setup further in I shrugged out of my jacket and tried to locate a table to sit. It looked as if I was in time for the next number to start their act. In the inner pocket of my jacket I had a good book that could keep me company if the music and drink itself didn’t do the trick. I turned as a dark honey covered male voice sounded next to me. “Well, hello, I would be Vio. A very nice place you have here.” Interesting. I felt a small warning in the back of my head, at this males precens, he was tall, taller than me with dark hair and eyes. He didn’t look upset or anything but did he personally welcome everyone who walked through the door. But I pushed the thought aside, for now and with a smile I held out my hand.

Ra:

I smile and shake his hand. The male knows how to shake hands, that's good. Sick of the aristocrats and their dainty, AKA wimpy, handshakes.

+Pleasure to make your acquaintance Vio. I apologize that my hostess is not here to welcome you. Her car is having issues but she'll be here soon. Until then I will be your host. Do you have a preference where you want to sit? Booth by the stage, window, barstool? Right now we have openings everywhere.+

Why I'm yammering so much, I don't know. Apparently it's one of those days, well nights, when I'm off kilter. Plus, I don't want this male thinking I am wary of his presence. So far, he seems fine. His eyes are scanning though as if looking for trouble. Gods I hope none visit here tonight. I could use a night without drama.

+Oh, our piano player for tonight is #Stephen and he is allowed to take requests as well as tips should you feel so inclined. Now where can I seat you?+

Vioh:

“Oh that’s no problem. I’m in no hurry. It is a very friendly place you have here.” I say with a smile and a nod to the man before me. I scan the large club checking out the different seating areas and contemplate where I want to sit depending on how well this Stephen plays and what request he gets will depend on how focused on the music I will be. After a few seconds I find the perfect spot with a set of booths that are facing the room, the stage and the bar. “Oh, I would love one of the booths over there if hogging one on my own isn’t an issue of course. What type of music does Stephan play? What’s his genre?” I ask as we start walking.

Ra:

+As I said, sit anywhere you please, sire. These booths will provide you some privacy from the worst of the noise without compromising your enjoyment of the music. #Stephen plays a variety of music but we try to keep it soothing so this place stays a relaxing environment for guests. (chuckling) He does get experimental on occasion but has been warned to skip the piano versions of his rap favorites. If anything isn't pleasing just let me know. If you would like I can get your first drink order started and #Maran will bring it over. You will also find a menu with tonight's food selections. We don't tend to do full meals like you would find in a restaurant but have marvelous finger foods and would be happy to suggest some of you'd like.+

I find myself relaxing around this male the more I talk. Good because that tells me all will be well. I find myself actually enjoying playing host too. I smile as the male, Vio, sits in the booth and places a book on the table.

+May I get you a drink now or would you prefer to relax and enjoy your book for a bit first?+

Vio: I laugh lightly as Ra explains his idea of Stephen’s musical skills “Now that is something I’ve honestly never heard. Piano rap, but I will remember not to suggest anything in that category. I would not want to get him in any trouble.” Sliding into the booth I have a seat in the middle of the seat. I place my jacket next to me and my book, The Innocent Man by John Grisham, on the table.

“Hmmm, no I’d love a drink, a caprina and some water please. Also, I wouldn’t mind some finger foods any of your suggestions. I just realized I’m quite hungry and wouldn’t mind some finger foods. “What do you suggest? Depending on the size of the dishes I’d like 2 or 3 different kinds.”

Ra:

+Well, I will just add that I have heard his versions and Kanye hits do not mesh well with a relaxing atmosphere.+

I laugh remembering my earlier discussion with #Stephen after hearing him play it.

+We have a variety of appetizers from simple to "fancy". I've found some prefer crackers and dips to lamb skewers. However, if you would honor me with some trust I will bring you a few of my favorites.+

As I wait for your answer I notice your book's title as it sits on the table.

+Have you read that book before? I do enjoy a good thriller but have not read that one.+

Vio: This guy was funny and charming, just like hosts or maybe more as the manager he was. He obviously liked what he did and wanted his customers as well as his employees to enjoy themselves. Within reason of course. “Well, since I know where you work I will trust you upon this important task of bringing me excellent foods to eat while enjoying the music and my reading material for the evening.” I say with a smile and a wink making sure he understands I was just trying to keep the same light atmosphere as he was doing. I look down on my book, patting the cover lovingly like I would a beloved pet. “Mmm, I’ve read this one before. I love reading great books over and over again. It is based on a true story and if you want something to read that will make you mad, make you sad and want to punch someone’s face in then this is the book for you.”

Ra:

+Well, that does sound like an exciting mixture. I'll have to read it.+

I take a notepad and write a few things down that Vio might like to eat and hand it off to #Cas as she passes by.

+#Cas will be your waitress tonight so once the fold is ready she'll bring it to you. I ordered you some lamb kabobs with a honey mint yogurt dipping sauce, a full smoked salmon with crackers, and some steak and bleu cheese bruschetta with onion and roasted tomato jam. I'll leave you to your entertainment but should you need me for anything just tell #Cas.+

I hope he calls me at some point. I'm intrigued and he seems like a male who can hold a conversation which is a rarity around here.

Vio: My mouth watered at all the food he mentioned “That all sounds amazing! I can’t wait to try them all.” I petted my stomach with my hand. I had to really think about it to not lick my mouth at the thought of all the good food. It had been a great idea to go out and visit the piano bar. The music started to play and Stephan had obviously listened to what Ra told him because the music that he chose was classic New Orleans jazz rather than rap. “If this is just as big a hit as it sounds you’ll have to come help me choose dessert if you have that on the menu too. And it sounds like Stephen took your advice too.” I couldn’t help teasing nodding towards the stage.

Ra:

+Oh the food will make you feel very good, the chef is fantastic. I was very lucky to find him. I'm glad #Stephen took my musical advice. Otherwise he'd have had to find a new line of employment. +

I chuckle because #Stephen flatout panicked when I told him he'd be out if he didn't follow my directions. I want to get to know this male more. There's something intriguing about him that makes me want to stay here and talk to him.

+Have you been in Charleston long Vio? I tend to know a good amount of the aristocrats that hang around these parts but haven't seen you or anyone who resembles you until tonight. Any family here?+

Vio:

It was bound to happen, meeting another one of my race here in Charleston. Ra was one it was easy to feel and him knowing other aristocrats proved he came from status or money, most likely both. I tried to not stiffen up or lose face but I really didn't have a huge desire to talk about my family. I didn't even want anyone to know about the symphath side and I was pretty sure if Ra was who I thought he was, he'd know the symphath king and the princess, my parents.

"No, no family or friends. I'm from the New York area" that was close enough to the truth "I just wanted out of the big city and some place more quaint, charming and with a home feel you know. And Charleston is the equivalent of home and charming." I smiled "How long have you had this club? Did you start it yourself or is it a family business?" Steering the conversation away from myself to him. It was safer to talk about Ra than me, scribe, knew how he'd react 5o the fact that I was almost fully symphath. I was good at hiding that side of me since I did so most of my life but I didn't need anyone to poke around in my past.

Ra:

+I've had this place for several years now, moved from the New York area myself. It was something my late sister would've enjoyed thoroughly. She was the inspiration behind it, you could say. She was my only true family. Those who gave me life haven't been in my life since she went unto the Fade. My family's business was never truly mine and I do not miss the arrogance of their kind.+

I shudder slightly thinking of my sweet sister. I miss her every day. Then I smirk thinking of Twila and what she'd say about it all. I lean a little closer so not to have to speak as loud.

+I think we are on the same wavelength when it comes to our thoughts on the aristocracy. I must bite

my tongue at times, for my business' sake, but my friend said it best, "The aristoscats are dirtier and smellier than anything out there. We'd be doing the race a favor by knocking them down a few pegs plus the air would smell better." I may have been born among them but I was never really one of them. If that makes sense.+

Vio: It surprised me how open and forthcoming Ra was, I was a complete stranger after all. Also, life had taught me the hard way that people of my race, well part of my race, were not to be trusted.

I didn't have a lot left over for any of them, aristocrats or other, symphaths less than any of them. The only good thing being a symphath gave me was that I could live in daylight unlike pure vampires. I could walk among humans and they were none the wiser and that's how I liked it. After the catastrophic meeting with my father I just gave up on ever belonging. The only truly fine person I like among my own race was Sihla, my nanny, my true mother,who passed less than a year ago.

"Yes, … well" it made me a bit uncomfortable that Ra knew I was like him but it was inevitable for me to hide it. At least I could hid my sympath side. "I don't have much experience of them but what I do know…. Well, I'm not a huge fan." Clearing my voice I said gently "I'm sorry to hear about your sister. Was she ill?" I frowned "I'm sorry for my manners. Would you like to have a seat? We could share the food if you are hungry."

Ra:

I smile and sit. I realize I may have said too much. The look he shot me was uncomfortable.

+I'm sorry if I made you upset or anything. I just lived many years, too many, being someone I wasn't and keeping my mouth shut. I grew tired of doing it so I stopped but I realize not everyone feels the same. So I apologize if I offended you. I would love to enjoy some of the food with you. It's been a long time since I tasted any of it.+

I chuckle as I am really bad about eating enough and should, at least, eat here to ensure quality is maintained.

+Lily, that's my sister, passed away during her transition. My family acted as if it was just another day and all was well because the male child was still breathing. They did not recognize the precious gem she was and that was when I started speaking up. When I left my Sire's home and business and moved here.

Oh here's the food. I hope you enjoy.+

Vio: It was weird, yet not really, how my insides didn't twist and turn as he told me about his sister. The pain my own parents inflicted in me both emotionally and the princess also physically had me numbed off. I did know how to play the part though. I had learned while growing up as a teenager yet learned, when I finally been free from the princess and moved into the real world.

"It's alright." I smiled knowing it would warm up my features making me look younger and sweet. "You have not offended me at all. I merely have my own not so pleasant interaction with our … our race." I sure didn't even though I'd mastered to play the part and hide my symphath side from my mahmen so I knew Ra wouldn't notice that part. Sitka had told me many times it had been obvious early that I was sk much stronger than any symphath alive since not even my own mahmen could see my strength and that I could without training g hide it so well from her, spire the torture she bestode upon me.

"Oh, yum, this looks and smells amazing." It really did and I couldn't wait to dig in. "It really is true that fondness goes through one's stomach." I chuckle picking out a few things to put on my plate.

Ra:

Laughing as I put a few morsels on my plate as well as have my glass of Henny refilled, I take a moment to look at my place from a customer's standpoint.

+Humans did get that right when they said that. I have yet to find anyone that doesn't relax with a good meal. So, have you visited any of the city's attractions yet? Like the beaches or City Market?

Vio: For a few moments i simply enjoy the food humming as all the tastes explodes in my mouth. "Oh my God this is divine!" I put the rest of the morsel in my mouth having to strain myself to just not shove another piece into my mouth like a vulture.

"My compliments to the chef and of course to the owner with the good taste of employ one of the best." Taking another bite of morsel. "How you don't eat this every night and weigh 500 pounds is beyond me" I bite into my food giving Ra a playful smile.

"Just a little. I walked around town for a bit the other night before I went out to dinner. I found this antique bookstore… it was love at first sight." I say chuckling. "But I have yet to explore more. So, how long have you lived in Charleston?"

Ra:

I have very little willpower when it comes to my chef's food so I eat before I come and occasionally sit on my hands to avoid eating it all before the customers.

+I chuckle+

I will relay your compliment to him. He was a rare find and I thank the stars nightly he chose to work here. I've lived here for over 10 years now, lost true count actually. I came from Caldwell originally and am grateful every day that I did. I love it here.

City Market is a must check out. It's so vast and has an array of handmade goods from furniture to food to knick knacks. They aren't open super late but still a great place to get lost in for a few hours. There are walking tours of various food places and historic sites. Even architecture tours if that's your scene. And any time you would like company I'd be more than happy to be a tour guide. I could use time away from here.

+I smile warmly not wanting to be pushy but wanting him to know I offer friendship since I know how being new in town can be.+

You mentioned an antique book store. Was that CeCe's place by any chance? Her shop is phenomenal!

Vio: It was nice, sitting there listening to Ra telling me all about Charleston. He offered his opinion and information so easily. There didn't seem to be any doubt or question that I was to be trusted. He didn't know me but was giving me the benefit of a doubt. It was a really nice experience but I couldn't help wondering if he would offer it as easily if he knew I was a symphath, especially if he knew who my mother was.

"That all sounds fantastic, especially the food market. I don't know if you noticed but I love good and different kinds of foods." Finishing my bite I lean back taking a sip of my drink as I study him. I was going to meet the male half way and give him the same benefit of a doubt as he was giving me. "A tour guide would be awesome so I can get some help exploring all those little gems." I chuckle "Yes! Yes! I believe it was CeCe's and I might have bought half the shop in one visit." I wink.

Ra:

+I smile realizing he was honoring me with trust. Trust isn't easy to give but TatorTot has been a good influence on me. She's taught me how to spot trustworthy people and how to spot the ones to avoid altogether. Vio can be trusted.+

I'm honored you will allow me to show you around. As for CeCe's, she is a doll and I have bought a ton of books there myself. She's gotten very good at restocking.

+I laugh before taking a sip of my Henny.+

"Excuse me Sire, but there's a disturbance out back needing your attention."

Thank you #Cas. Please get Vio anything else he requires, on the house.

+I stand and turn to you bowing slightly.+

I apologize for cutting our visit short. Enjoy the rest of your night with us. Here is my card, please call me anytime you like.

Vio: "You go do your thing. It was really nice meeting you Ra. I don't know a lot of people here yet, so thank you for keeping me company." I waved Ra off, taking his card and putting his information in my phone. Scrolling through it I saw the number for Rehnegade. I'd gotten it from a connection in Caldwell but I had yet to use it. I still wasn't sure I wanted to.

#TBC

#Paladin #ANightatRas #Renegades #RRPG #BDB #AU #Wolven #Witches #Vampires #Angels #Reapers #Ghosts

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artemis-entreri · 7 years ago

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That other Anon (What would it take to make Artemis Entreri happy...) got me wondering. After his relationship with C. and D. (D. presumed dead atm) would Artemis enter another relationship? What kind of a relationship would make him at least content? That man sure could use some happy time in his life.

[[ Oh man, this original Ask is so ancient that it doesn’t have a time stamp. >_> In honor of NaNoWriMo, which I’ve never participated in or even paid much attention to before, I’m going to endeavor to finally answer these things I’d saved because I wanted to answer them but couldn’t at the time. Incidentally, I’d also been waiting for some sort of canonical conclusion before addressing things like this, but in retrospect, the “developments” added by the last books were so far from organic that what I’m about to write now is probably not too different from what I would’ve written before.

I think that whether Entreri would enter into any more relationships is a separate topic from what he needs to be happy. Unlike the case with Drizzt, I don’t believe that Entreri needs to "belong" in order to be happy. He might not ever be happy in the same way that Drizzt is, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t be fine. Each person experiences and defines happiness at least a little differently, so I think that Entreri doesn’t need to have what Drizzt has to be able to be happy. This concept is one that has always been lost on Drizzt, and I think the reason for that may be that it’s one that’s also lost on Bob.

As far as Entreri and romance are concerned, my impression is that he’s never really looked for, or actively desired to be in, a romantic relationship. I think he’s supposed to be one of those people for whom romance is a low priority. I wouldn’t describe him as aromantic though, as he’s exhibited romantic attraction to others. Overall, I’d even go so far as to say that romance and Entreri don’t mix well, at least not so far in any case. The points of entry into both of his romantic relationships were directly due to incidents that tampered with his mind, with the effects of Idalia’s Flute landing him with Calihye and the aboleth encounter in the sewers beneath Neverwinter leading him to bond with Dahlia. Furthermore, Entreri has shown himself to be loyal, perhaps to a fault, when it comes to his romantic partner. He was willing to let Calihye kill him and only stopped her when he realized that someone else had intervened in what should’ve been his private matter. I find the whole sequence of Entreri throwing Calihye out the window and then looking for her afterwards kind of strange and inconsistent, but I suppose I’ll have to chalk all of that up to the effects of Idalia’s Flute. Still, I don’t think the Flute makes people do the sort of stuff that they absolutely would never do, but rather, much like the drugs and alcohol of our world, it lowers its user’s inhibitions and makes them more likely to do things that would normally be extreme for them. So, while the part where Entreri threw Calihye out the window for attempting to manipulate him was consistent with his character and his creed of not leaving any enemies in his wake, the back-peddling of looking for her afterwards and not for the purpose of finishing her off was a glimpse into the vulnerable part of him that he’d prefer not to exist. That part of him is self-destructive in that it makes him undervalue himself. Despite Calihye’s attempt on his life and what would’ve felt like further betrayal by abandonment, Entreri still wanted her enough to risk messing with not just any drow but drow associated with the most dangerous person he knows, and loved her so much that he cherished the time that they’d spent together before she left him again. And for Dahlia, he allowed his own code of honor to be compromised in perhaps the only time that we’ve ever seen throughout the entire series when he couldn’t reject her completely despite her already being involved with Drizzt. Entreri was ready to let Drizzt strike him down for that transgression, which was a big deal because that was allowing someone else to have ultimate control of his fate, and someone else having that sort of power is the thing he tolerates the least. In fact, the lengths that Entreri went for Dahlia meant that he was risking more than his life, he did things that completely offended his sensibilities, which are difficult to offend. We saw how utterly intolerant he is of the Underdark, of Menzoberranzan, to the point that he’d rather wage a hopeless battle against a legendary paladin king and his party of heroes that defeated a god rather than escape temporarily to the sunless world below. We saw how thoroughly terrified he was of the prospect of having to wield Charon’s Claw again, and it was a state that we’ve never seen him anywhere close to before. Despite these things, he went to rescue Dahlia, and that’s reminiscent of his allowances for Calihye because it really seems to be the case that, despite what he says, Entreri places far more importance in his significant other than he does in himself. I’d say that this is due in no small part to his self-loathing, but I think it’s also due to him being the kind of person to love intensely. I don’t believe what I do because I think he’s a bad boy with a heart of gold, I’d even say he’s pretty damn far from the whole “heart of gold” trope. I do believe that Entreri would love intensely because, in addition to that he does pretty much everything intensely, as an emotionally inexperienced individual who lacks perspective about what degree to feel something, he’d likely be pretty black or white about how much he feels. Even though I’m sure that he’d rather not put so much of himself into any sort of involvement with someone else, his logic can’t dictate his heart, especially not when his heart is so inexperienced and vulnerable. While all this talk about how Entreri’s full of love and goes so far for his sweethearts might sound like positive qualities, I did bring up these points within the same paragraph that I opened with, “romance and Entreri don’t mix well” for a reason. I believe that on some level, Entreri should be aware of the relative values he places on his waifu versus on himself. He doesn’t seem to display this level of introspection in the books, but given how he’s supposed to be an acute individual who’s super honed for survival in unimaginably difficult environments, I really think that he should be able to recognize such a self-destructive tendency. Furthermore, I can’t see him as being ok with this vulnerability, as it goes against everything that he’s trained himself for, everything that he knows, and everything that his instincts tell him. What this means is that he’d recognize pretty easily when his efforts aren’t reciprocated, but his low sense of self-worth also likely means that he’d have a high tolerance for that lack of reciprocation.

Entreri, for all of his own emotional inexperience, is significantly more emotionally mature than is Dahlia, especially prior to Kimmuriel's intervention. While Kimmuriel’s psychic surgery might’ve “calmed” Dahlia down, I don’t think that process necessarily imparted upon her a sense of honor, which is something that’s central to Entreri’s mindset. Dahlia might not always be picking a fight with Entreri anymore, but with her own host of unresolved issues as well as general inexperience, I see her as time goes by, waffling quite a bit. Effron’s existence, his importance to her, and the strong dislike that Effron and Entreri share for one another would also instigate disharmony. We’ve seen Dahlia forsake Entreri for Effron without so much of a thought in trying times, and I think that sort of behavior would be pretty consistent for her. Dahlia’s maternal instinct isn’t exactly conventional, what with the throwing her baby off the cliff and all, but coupled with her guilt, it’s become a very strong force that will, in my opinion, always drive her to choose her offspring over her lover if she had to leave one to die. To further complicate matters, it’s likely that Dahlia’s been impregnated a drow, most likely Tiago, but quite possibly Kimmuriel or even Drizzt. Tiago, in addition to enjoying the act of raping Dahlia, also sought to plant his seed in the then-Matron Mother of House Do’Urden. Kimmuriel is a possibility because it seems highly unlikely that he’d care what happened to Dahlia’s body after he was done with it, so he wouldn’t have taken any precautions (plus the circumstances of their copulation didn’t allow for that anyway). Drizzt might be the most concerned of the three, however he also doesn’t think about that sort of thing and his whole relationship with Dahlia was a series of impulsive behaviors strung together. I also don’t personally believe that Drizzt is conscientious enough to consider the possibility of producing a half-drow child with Dahlia even though he agonizes about the same topic regarding Catti-brie because Dahlia’s just never been important enough to him for him to think of that much or that far. I consider Drizzt the least likely father of a probable half-drow baby in Dahlia’s womb because given how promiscuous Dahlia was and her experience with childbirth, she would have likely taken birth control precautions. These measures would’ve most probably faded during the extended time that she was in Menzoberranzan. As for Dahlia possibly being pregnant with Entreri’s child, I won’t say that it’s completely impossible, but I’d say that the likelihood of that is infinitesimally low. During the times that they were together, Dahlia always had the chance to make her preparations. Furthermore Entreri strikes me as the type who really doesn’t want children, so without getting too graphic in the details, I think it’s safe to say that he would’ve taken measures of his own to make sure that he didn’t impregnate anyone, even someone that he loved. So, with Dahlia already proven herself totally ready to ditch Entreri for Effron, the addition of another child, and a half-drow one at that, would seem to be guaranteed to be a stress point for Entreri. Dahlia would be unlikely to want to give the baby up because of her guilt over what she did with her first child, and I see her as the type to expect Entreri to accept and go along with that. I can’t see Entreri being ok with it at all, not so much because the child is half of a race that he despises for the most part, but rather the specific drow from which it descended. He’d be able to tolerate the possibility of Tiago better than Kimmuriel, but either way, even though Entreri would intellectually know better than to blame a child for the actions of its parents, something flagrant enough would make it very difficult to reconcile the intellectual and the visceral. Especially if it turned out that Kimmuriel had fathered the child, which would likely give rise to psionic capabilities within the child, I really see Entreri just throwing his hands up and not being willing to deal with it. However, going back to Dahlia’s tendency to vastly prioritize her offspring, I believe that while Entreri might intellectually understand the reason for her being that way, there’d be only so much of it that he could take, again because of the difficulty in reconciling the intellectual and the visceral. Especially given that his whole life, he’s fought against being trivialized and invalidated, I think that there’s only so much violation of his nature that Entreri could and would endure.

If Entreri did leave Dahlia, I see it as being a clean break, as it’s difficult for emotionally inexperienced people to do the “let’s stay friends” thing after bonding so strongly with another. I see him as cutting off contact, going very far away, and minimizing chances that he’d see or hear from her again. I'd even speculate that the entire experience would be agonizing for him and he’d want nothing more than to know how she was doing and what she was doing at every second. These desires would cause him to be extremely angry with himself and he’d see it as weak and pathetic how he can’t stop feeling and thinking such utterly pointless things. This ruminating rage would deepen his cynicism and misanthropy, as well as stirring the sort of vulnerability that leads people to engage in such often unfortunate temporary relationships as the rebound. However, I see Entreri as having enough discipline, or perhaps enough cynicism, to avoid doing the rebound thing, though I’m not dismissing the possibility altogether. The consequences of emotional inexperience are such that even the most disciplined person could break under enough hurt, but Entreri’s supposed to have unbelievable amounts of discipline. I guess it ultimately falls to the specifics of what leads him to leave Dahlia to determine how he would behave in the short-term following the breakup. Long-term, on the other hand, I see him as reverting to that whole not looking for and not interested in romance approach. He might even actively avoid getting involved, especially if he’s aware of how he tends to give so much of himself into his relationships, and what that has done to him in the past. It’s the sort of cynicism that jives so easily with his experience of being exploited for his skills, so really, I think that he’d be quite turned off to the idea of getting into another romantic relationship. What’s likely to happen however is that he’ll fall in love again, perhaps many times, and get involved with people that don’t value him for his full worth. What tends to happen when someone gives so much of themselves into a relationship, as Entreri is wont to do, is that it leads the other person to take it for granted and even take advantage of it, which leads me to believe that Entreri will either avoid relationships altogether, or undergo many unhealthy ones before we return to him avoiding relationships altogether again. Maybe someone different will come by to break the cycle, but that’s a big if, as Entreri is such an outlier as far as social spectrum goes that finding the right kind of outlier that’s appropriate for him is no small task, especially when he’s beyond not actively looking, to the point of actively dismissing potential partners.

As far as the “Dahlia leaving Entreri” theme goes, I’ll start with what Entreri would do if she left him by death, as that poses clearer scenarios. If Dahlia died of unnatural causes, i.e. by another’s hand, Entreri would kill the perpetrator, mourn for probably a very long time, then go on to follow a course similar to the one I described in the previous paragraph, but instead of cynicism, there would be sadness. If Dahlia died of natural causes much earlier than she should’ve, i.e. by disease, the situation would be similar to her dying of unnatural causes except with less assassinating. Finally, if Dahlia died of old age after hundreds of years, perhaps closer to a millennium if not more, and Entreri stayed with her all throughout all of those years, unchanging, an immortal eternity granted to him by Charon’s Claw or the jeweled dagger as he watched his beloved of an nigh-ageless race fade and wither while it should’ve been the other way around… I mean, I think the scenario is highly unlikely, but it’s still pretty heartbreaking to think about because of how steadfast and sacrificial Entreri would need to be for that scenario to hold true. It’s not possible for me to grasp what that sort of experience would be like, I feel that any extrapolations I make would be grossly inaccurate because my data points run out far before the timeline for the thought experiment does. I think though, that while it wouldn’t befit Entreri to follow a partner to death normally, if he’d gone so far as to make someone (Dahlia in this thought experiment) the center of his life for so long, that after she passed away, he’d likely not feel much like living anymore. Entreri is also (mostly) human, and humans aren’t wired to know how to deal with living lifetimes as long as those of elves’. Elves, being genetically long-lived, probably have some sort of “awareness” coded into their biology to better comprehend and handle a lengthy lifespan and likely have developed coping mechanisms. What would be normal to an elf would be beyond wonky to a human, and at over a hundred years Entreri is already exhausted of living (heck, he was even when he was in his 40s), so if he hasn’t died by the time that Dahlia does and he’s still with her, he probably wouldn’t have much of anything for himself by then, especially with how egocentric Dahlia is and will probably remain. While Bob wants us to believe that Entreri is serving as Dahlia’s guide and teacher in dealing with similar emotional traumas, realistically, I don’t think Entreri has gotten enough of his own answers to be wholly qualified to do that. Also, while the “healing together” trope is nice, in reality, it doesn’t work out too well, and more likely becomes the blind leading the blind. What’ll most likely happen with Entreri and Dahlia is that, although he pretends to be firm with her, eventually she’ll figure out that he can’t say no to her, and while I’m not saying that Entreri would ever become whipped, I do think that he’d let things go a lot more than she would because it’s the path of least resistance, as well as spoil her because of his tendency to value his partner more than himself. This would establish an unhealthy, even toxic, dynamic between the two of them, and unfortunately, Entreri is the type to stick with a toxic relationship for unthinkably long because of how tough he believes himself to be and, on a subconscious level, how he doesn’t believe that anyone else would care about him as a person. So, if he stayed with Dahlia until she died of old age, I think that the concept of another relationship would be so far and foreign from his mind by that point that even if he chose to go on, he might not be capable of entering another relationship. This is really a subject that I’d need to think more about, but fundamentally I feel that there’s some truth to the whole idea that if one has lived long enough and seen enough that one sort of transcends mortality. Put in smaller terms, as children, a lot of us wanted to play in the mud. As adults, we see mud as a great nemesis from which we must keep our pets and children because mixing the two would mean undoing all those hours of cleaning that we’d broken our backs performing. In other words, through growth, retrospect makes us wonder why we were even remotely interested in the sorts of things we used to like. The difference between a child and an adult is only a few decades, thus imagine how big that difference would be if it was measured instead in centuries. Despite all of this doom and gloom, I do think that it’s possible for Entreri to sort of start fresh in the most recent scenario that I’ve posed. He might be able to do it alone, but I think that’d be very difficult because he’d be very set in certain ways that he would’ve had to force himself into in order to tolerate staying with Dahlia for so long. He’d need another long-lived individual who’s undergone the experience of living for another over a prolonged period of time to be able to be on the same page as him, but this person would also need to be able to appreciate him for who he is and have broken free of their bonds to be able to help him do the same thing and find himself again. Only then would he be able to consider entering another romantic relationship. I can’t help but wonder though, that when one’s lived that long though, especially one like Entreri, how much meaning that a romantic relationship would even have by that point. There would be so many complicated associations with partnership that it would pose its own challenge to untangle.

Thus brings us to Dahlia leaving Entreri by her own choice. The most likely cause for this is her falling out of love with him, which could be due to a variety of scenarios. I’ve been pretty down on Dahlia, but it isn’t because I dislike her or think of her as an inherently bad person. I actually feel that the way that she is is very understandable, but I’m not saying that excuses her bad behavior either. Dahlia is very inexperienced and very traumatized, plus biologically she should still be a child. She a child who’s been forced to be an adult and living the way that an adult does. There’s so much of her mentality that needs to follow its natural course of development, which requires a lot of time, especially given that she’s an elf and elves at around age 30 are like the equivalent of human early teens (i.e. recall Drizzt at 30). Because of this, Dahlia would likely need more time than an elf that hasn’t gone through the sort of traumas that she did to reach a similar state in life. Before then, however, she’ll be prone to impulsive things, “bad” things, because she doesn’t really know any better. The way that I see any decisions that Dahlia makes in her love life right now and how transitory they are is that what she’s going through is very similar to how very few high school relationships last the rest of one’s life, or go beyond high school. Just as how people in college would often look back and wonder why the heck they dated who they did during high school, Dahlia’s views are likely to change drastically as she matures further. Although I’ve described Entreri as emotionally inexperienced, Dahlia is more than that. In addition to being emotionally immature, Dahlia’s generally inexperienced. While Entreri isn’t very in touch with his heart, he knows himself far better than Dahlia knows herself, and given the closed-off natures of both of them, it’s the amount of time that Entreri’s been around compared to Dahlia that makes for the difference in maturity states. So, Entreri’s reached a point of enough stability that he wouldn’t “outgrow” Dahlia, but this doesn’t preclude his reasons for leaving her being rooted in her outgrowing him. Or, more precisely, Dahlia would outgrow the person she was when she fell in love with Entreri, and change at a different rate than him because he’s already done a great deal of the fundamental stuff that she’ll need to go through. I think more and more, Entreri would be stricken by how young she is, but he’d either find ways to adapt, or feel creeped out by the fact that he’s pretty much with a child and leave for her own sake. Conversely, without as much perspective, and because of how much she’d be changing, Dahlia wouldn’t be able to adapt to Entreri. The least cruel thing for her to do is to recognize this and for both of them to agree it’s the right thing to do for them to part, not that it wouldn’t burn with the fury of the Nine Hells for Entreri and lead him down the path described before. However, I don’t know how much Dahlia would be aware of what’s happening to her, and I see it as much more likely that she’d get fixated on the next hawt young thang to cross her path or catch her eye, and she’d want to trade the older model in for something new. True, even in old age, Entreri would be a force to be reckoned with, but I don’t think Dahlia cares about being with the absolute best if she could have what’s best for her at any given moment. I can’t really blame Dahlia for this degree of fickleness because I just see her as a child who doesn’t know what she wants yet, and just as I’d have a hard time landing on a child for not sticking to the same thing that they were interested in as they metamorphosize with age, although it would break Entreri’s heart, I can’t really fault Dahlia for leaving him for someone more suited to who she becomes.

I realize it might seem strange that I mentioned Dahlia leaving Entreri in his old age when previously I’d discussed him living eternally. The reason for this is that we don’t know exactly what’s going on with his artificial life-prolonging. There are hints in Hero that the magic of Claw that sustained his life force is weakening, but we’re also not 100% sure if it’s Claw that’s solely responsible for Entreri’s unnaturally long life. I think it’s the case that so long as Claw binds him, Entreri can’t be killed, but the Shade essence in him is what made him de-age and age slowly. True Shades live forever if they’re not killed, but Entreri is only part-Shade. But again, we don’t know what’s causing what, and with a dose of the Spellplague and another of the Sundering thrown in there, really, anything goes until we receive more information, which we’re unlikely to do. So, as Entreri ages, it’s possible that it will be a depressing experience for him. He’s not as obsessed with maintaining peak performance anymore and he’s exhausted with living, but to fade away slowly would be hard for him to take. He despaired in the past that he’d no longer be in his prime when his arch-nemesis would just be entering his, and even though Entreri no longer has an arch-nemesis anymore, losing the exceptional physical capabilities that are such a big part of him would be very difficult to endure, made even worse by how he’s probably not thought about losing it to old age for a long time after he stopped aging. As he’s going through this tough transition in his life, as mentioned before, it’s unlikely that Dahlia would stay by and support him through it. More than likely, she’d become frustrated that he isn’t as capable as he once was, blame him for that which he can’t help, and finally leave him with those accusations weighing heavily on his mind. After their separation under these conditions, Entreri would likely feel very rejected, used and undesirable. He might wish that he could just give up completely like Dondon had, but his survival instinct wouldn’t allow that. A retired criminal in Calimport becomes the leader of a criminal organization, but Entreri never had the stomach for hierarchy. He’s also no longer a criminal, but he’s not a good guy either, and I find it highly unlikely that he’d seek out civil service, as part of a city’s Watch or what have you. What I see happening is that he’d become a partial-hermit, not entirely removed from civilization, but living on the fringes of it along the same vein as he’s always had, but with significantly less involvement. He’d need protection, and he’d barter some for it with his skills and cunning, but his sense of self-worth would be at an all-time low, and his age would probably be on the forefront of his mind if anyone expressed a romantic interest in him. I think that if Dahlia left him because of the deterioration of age, Entreri would be hesitant to even engage with beings older than him but whom appeared younger, again because of what that appearance would viscerally remind him of even if intellectually he knows that he’d be the younger one. Furthermore, he’d be aging faster than a young-appearing older being, and he wouldn’t want to risk getting hurt over being dumped for his decline.

Now that I’ve addressed to death the question of would Entreri enter another relationship after Calihye and Dahlia, here comes the same thing for what kind of a relationship would make Entreri, at the very least, content. While it’s no secret that I really like pairing Entreri with Jarlaxle, I actually don’t feel that there exists a canonical character throughout all 30+ of the Drizzt books who’s “good enough” to be appropriate for Entreri. By “good enough” I don’t mean someone with shining morals characterized only by wholesome actions and beliefs that could guide Entreri entirely to the ways of the light, whereupon he can finally find true happiness. In fact, anyone like that would be the very opposite of what would be good for Entreri. The poor guy’s spent his entire life among people who were only interested in him for his skills, and in order to find any sense of validation among that kind of society, he’s had to play its game by becoming that which was most coveted by its standards. While the books would have us believe that the emptiness that Entreri felt was due to his lack of ability to connect to others, that’s a very social-normative way to look at things. I personally think that Entreri’s sense of emptiness and self-disgust came from having to define himself by the demarcation set by the very same people that he despised. He couldn’t do anything different because they and their ideals were all that he’d known. I believe that having to cater to that which he hated made him as intolerant of authority and of others that try to impose their beliefs onto him as he is. He’s fiercely independent but didn’t have a chance to build the foundation upon which to found that independence, and I think he’s aware of this fact on some level because he’s so defensive when others try to mess with aspects that he’s never gotten to explore himself. I think that the two main qualities that would define an ideal romantic/life partner for Entreri would be: A) Genuine interest in who, not what, he is, and B) Security in their own sense of self with the appropriate amount of associated competence.

Quality B) is in my opinion the less obvious of the two, so I’ll start with elaborating on that one. There’s a lot of truth in the maxim, “lead by example”, and I think that it applies to something as small scale and personal as a relationship between two individuals. While I would describe Entreri as a very strong person overall, he possesses vulnerabilities that are very stark, and he strikes me as the kind of person who would forever keep those hidden even if he did come to completely trust someone, if he didn’t deem that person strong enough to handle his vulnerabilities. By vulnerabilities, I don’t mean the details of what happened in his childhood, but rather, all the ramifications of those events and all the other traumas he’s gone through. He probably can’t even articulate most of those consequences, and because so much of conveying them would depend on the subtleties of communication beyond that which is expressed in words, in order for verbal expression to happen, the conditions would have to be correct. Entreri would need a proverbial wall solid enough to lean on, one that is as tenacious as the ones that he’d built around his own heart. The right kind of person who’s secure in their own sense of self would also not need Entreri to do anything for them, because presumably, they’d be self-sufficient enough to not need his help. I think that this would allow them to naturally look beyond the “what” aspects of Entreri, as well as eventually make Entreri feel at ease about not being taken interest in as a tool. Of course, it’s very likely that, especially during the early stages of a relationship with an individual like this, Entreri would feel ill-at-ease, because he’s simply not used to not being exploited by others. He’d at least subconsciously question why this other person wants him, and if it’s all a grand farce or scheme that’s designed to lull him into a false sense of security to inevitably trap him. It might mean some turbulent times for Entreri and this hypothetical character early in their relationship, it might even lead to separation due to the degree of Entreri’s distrust. But, this is where A) comes in, because a genuine interest in who he is will keep Entreri going back to this hypothetical person, because as we’ve seen in the books, he’s so unable to resist someone actually caring about him as a person to the point that it’s almost an addiction, and definitely his Achilles’ Heel. However, in the books, none of his romantic partners are as interested in him as they could and should be, but even despite that, he’s fiercely loyal to them because they showed him the tiniest bit of interest in what lies beyond his impressive skills. I’ll be frank here, he’s absolutely not a perfect idealization of a man who only requires emotions to be this dedicated. The presence of sex definitely plays no small part in cementing his attachment. Nonetheless, without the appreciation for who he is, the physicality of sex is meaningless to him.

As far as how A) and B) tie together, A) is about empathy, which is independent of how secure someone is in themselves. While it isn’t necessarily the case that people who are more secure about themselves are more capable of empathy, what is the case is that more secure people are not as affected by the words of others. I think that insecurity is what leads people to try to impose their own beliefs onto others, because failure to do so is invalidating and invalidation is probably the biggest threat to one who lacks security. Hence, someone solely possessing of trait A) would not be sufficient for Entreri, because even if they cared more for him than they did for themselves, the lack of B) would mean that they’d inevitably try to seek validation from him by inadvertently pushing their beliefs onto him. This could happen indirectly, and without the hypothetical person ever intending or wishing anything akin to making Entreri become more like them. However, because of how fiercely dedicated Entreri can be, he might take it upon himself to do what he can to help his partner, in the process hurting himself without either meaning for that to happen. Even though he’d deny it and fight to stay with his love (in the short term anyway, he’d probably realize things if he lived long enough to outlive several partners), that doesn’t necessarily mean that the relationship would be healthy and good for him, or for the other person for that matter. As is the case with many victims of abuse and trauma, Entreri would likely go through many unhealthy relationships before he’d find a healthy one.

This brings me to the reason that I like the Entreri and Jarlaxle pairing so much. Among all the canonical possibilities, Jarlaxle is the closest to satisfying the two traits that I’ve explained above. There are some fairly glaring issues, such as his sex and gender identity as well as his tendency to exploit anything and everything. However, unlike any other character in the Drizzt books, Jarlaxle undergoes some extensive effort to try to understand Entreri better, even if those efforts ended up being invasive, questionable and overall pretty ineffective. Nonetheless, Jarlaxle tried to understand the man behind the skills and the circumstances that led him to become who he is, and really, no one else cared enough to do that. Furthermore, Jarlaxle wanted to help Entreri get better, not by Jarlaxle’s definition but by Entreri’s, however the methods that Jarlaxle took were rushed and inappropriate. Although Idalia’s Flute was overall a monumentally bad idea in context and, out of context, was an extremely lazy plot device to force character “development”, its redeeming quality is that its effect is to unlock the heart of whomever plays it. In other words, it’s not a magical implement to change someone into something or some way that another wishes, its intended purpose is to nurture growth on a very personal level. However, just as how in real life, trauma victims need to become ready at their own pace to heal, I believe that Idalia’s Flute is only effective when one is ready for their heart to be unlocked. What Jarlaxle did was the equivalent of throwing Entreri into psychotherapy when he wasn’t ready for it, and that’s absolutely not all right, but still, it’s a lot better than, for instance, telling Entreri what he should do to feel and be better (*cough* Drizzt *cough). That latter scenario goes beyond disrespectful, it’s flagrantly abusive, and I’d even go so far as to describe it as disgusting and despicable. I suppose it would be easy to make an original character that satisfies A) and B) for the purpose of pairing them with Entreri, but I have a hard time getting into that because I feel like, no matter what, it wouldn’t be “real”. Jarlaxle’s far from perfect but he’s also far better than his canonical alternatives, and I suppose that’s how my OTP became what it is.

Thus we return to my initial contention that Entreri doesn’t need to be in a relationship to find his own version of happiness. Social science teaches us that humans are an inherently communal species. Furthermore, social norms across many different cultures enforce the idea that we can’t be happy if we’re alone, that we need a partner and friends or else we’re doomed to misery. I’d say that these things are true for the most part, but the keyword here is “most”. As with any sample set, there will always be outliers to the common denominator. Someone like Entreri is obviously not your average human, written as he is with a past that is quite horrible and a life that doesn’t get any easier. I’m not altogether comfortable with applying our world’s sciences and customs to a world that’s totally different. For all we know, humans of the Realms are wired differently from humans of Earth. Our respective cultures share similarities (or more specifically, Realmsian human cultures are strongly derivative of ours), but the biggest differences are often in the subtleties, and without being able to experience another world’s subtle cultural elements, applying our rules just always feels faulty on some level.

Nonetheless, with his specific set of circumstances, Entreri does have more than enough reason to be misanthropic. The vast bulk of his life experiences involving other people is those others seeking to exploit his skills, and this sort of objectifying behavior towards him would’ve most likely led him to see others as egocentric vultures that only want to use him as a pawn to further their own trivial ends. This would certainly explain why he’s so intolerant about anyone trying to hold any sort of power over him. Furthermore, he’s more competent than most other people, and he knows it, which makes having to deal/work with them especially frustrating, and that is why he prefers to work alone. Even when he encounters someone on his level, he still prefers to do his own thing, because ultimately, he doesn’t trust anyone, and even if it’s the case that his soulmate’s out there and he meets them one day, his trust is something that’ll take him a long time to give, if ever. To Entreri, other people are by default nuisances and he’d rather avoid them altogether. Unlike Drizzt, who aches for company, compassion and understanding, Entreri wants his free will to never be impeded by anyone else. With a goal like that, bringing anyone else into the picture automatically poses some degree of threat. I think that the core reason as to why I believe that Entreri doesn’t necessarily need the same set of circumstances as Drizzt does, is because, quite frankly, Drizzt had a much easier time in his early life than Entreri did. Certainly, the depravity of Menzoberranzanyr drow probably makes the depravity of Calimshan’s criminals pale in comparison, however what Drizzt always had, that Entreri didn’t, was a beacon of hope. He had Zaknafein, who stood by him with steadfastness for as long as he could, and then he had Guenhwyvar, who he could always 100% trust to be on his side when she could be around. I’m not saying that Drizzt’s early life was a total picnic, since Zaknafein did die and Guen could only come every few days or so. However, compared to Entreri’s only source of trust betraying him so completely and literally no love at all growing up… I’ll just say that I know which one I’d rather pick if I had to go through either one’s childhood/adolescence. I do however fear that there wouldn’t be enough parchment in all of Faerûn for me to write the appropriate amounts of whiny, preachy, self righteous and sanctimonious journal entries in. In any case, because of these discrepancies, Entreri is used to being alone, whereas as we see in the books, especially during the Neverwinter Saga, Drizzt can’t handle it. Being alone is familiar to Entreri, and familiarity breeds comfort. I’m not saying that Entreri needs to be alone to be happy, just that he’s one of those characters that can be just fine on his own. Besides, being alone doesn’t automatically equate to being lonely unless you’re in poor company, and Entreri is anything but poor company.

All of that said, I think that a lover would make more sense to Entreri than would a friend, but I don’t think either would be enough to “complete” him, even if he doesn’t need someone else in order to be complete. While the passage of time might change his views, I don’t think it will temper his tendency to deal in absolutes when it comes to certain things, and I think personal relationships are one of those things. Rather than having friends, I see him as having a bunch of acquaintances that might refer to him as a friend and with whom he might even reciprocate that custom. However, he’d only have one person who’s so close to him, someone who would be all of the things he might need: his lover, his partner, his best friend, his family. He doesn’t like people, and this is something so fundamental that I don’t see it flipping, hence why one person is enough and probably all that he’d tolerate/allow to get that close to him. Which of course makes it all the more devastating if he ever loses that person, but such is the fate of those who deal in absolutes. Put this way, it sure sounds like Entreri won’t ever be happy, doesn’t it? I’m not trying to doom him to a life of misery, but in reality, many people, especially those that have undergone hardships, aren’t ever able to attain the sort of happiness that we’re conditioned to go after. But you know, that’s ok, because even if Entreri isn’t feeling actively happy most days, if he has his freedom and free will, if he’s not being suppressed and if he’s still alive, that is enough. Because happiness is a journey, not a destination, and so long as he keeps going on, he doesn’t need to be anything other than himself, and I think that the ability to be ourselves is the greatest happiness of all. ]]

#Anonymous #ooc #ama #BOB PLZ #Artemis Entreri #Entreri #Drizzt #Drizzt Do'Urden #Jarlaxle #Jarlaxle Baenre #legend of drizzt #dahlia sin'felle #Tiago Baenre #kimmuriel oblodra #Calihye #Effron #zaknafein do'urden #guenhwyvar #tw: rape

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vesperlionheart · 7 years ago

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Pompeii 37

His hair was getting longer and now he was having to do things with it. Sakura had offered to cut it, but Yamato had said he preferred it longer now that he had the option of growing it out. It felt better to be a little more rugged and a little more wild.

Of course Sakura teased him about turning into a wild bearded man before he reached out to try and smack her, complaining about how ‘she knew he had issues growing facial hair’ or something like that.

“It’s a little messy today. Don’t you want to put it up?” she asked, eyeing it critically.

His hair was lovely in its texture, and it made her envious, but Yamato was still learning how to take care of it.

He reached for his hair and started to pull it up with his hands, combing through with the nails of his fingers before letting it all fall back down. Behind him the radio was on with old songs plucked out on a banjo and old box drum about the fey in the wilds and the heroes who went after them. Sakura recognized the tune.

“I guess it would be nice to have it off my neck a little more,” Yamato muttered.

Sakura pulled a hair tie off her wrist, one that was bright yellow and matched the floral design of her tank top and ballet flats.

Yamato eyed the hair tie before leaning into her. When Sakura didn’t do anything, he but her with his head and grunted, pointing to his hair.

“Big baby,” Sakura muttered.

She reached for his hair and combed through it much like he had earlier, taking care not to scratch him with her longer nails. She checked to make sure she didn’t miss anything before tying it all up in a low ponytail that she ended up folding into a bun.

“There, now you should feel a little cooler when you’re outside. Where have you been, recently? I haven’t seen you about as much these days.”

Yamato shrugged before walking over to a part of the living room and reaching for something behind the couch. Sakura thought it might have been a guitar, but it was the wrong shape for it. It looked handmade apart from the strings she recognized as his last Amazon Prime order-the one he needed her account for.

“I’ve been trying to teach myself how to play.”

“You like to play?”

Yamato sat down and settled the instrument that was too short and too fat to be a guitar over his knee. He didn’t pluck, but he did start to move his hand up and down the neck of it.

“Maybe? I don’t know until I try it out some more. I’ve never had the opportunity to see for myself what sorts of hobbies I should gravitate towards. But, I know I like music, I always have, so this seemed like a safe thing to try.”

Sakura felt her heart swell with warm pride.

“Play something for me?”

He looked up and grinned. There was something that twinkled in his eyes, something meant and reserved solely for her.

“Because it’s you...alright.”

Sakura looked down at the resume on her lap and then back up at Sai. She tried not to, but the sigh slipped out and was noticed.

“I need to make improvements,” Sai said.

“No, I...honey, I don’t think the issue is with this resume. You’ve done a good job crafting it. But I’m a little confused about the choice. You want to work at the grocery store? They have customers...you need to….interact with.”

Sakura hated how her words came out sounding like they were directed at someone far more inexperienced or younger than her.She didn’t want to do that to Sai after he worked so hard to get where he was.

It hadn’t been that long ago that she felt the pressure from others to reform herself and fix her bedside manner. Oddly enough, the way she remained nonplussed and unshaken by patient needs turned out being the thing that made her such a perfect fit for Pompeii. But Sai wasn’t Sakura and Sakura wasn’t Sai.

“Maybe the grocer is not the ideal career opportunity for my unique skills, however, they are short of staff and acquiring the job would be less challenging than others.”

“Still, the customer service aspect seemed to trouble you last time.”

Sai’s expression doesn’t change and Sakura knows he hasn’t taken offense.

“We were out of that size so the only other option was to lose weight. I was trying to be helpful.”

“Babe,” Sakura tossed the paper back to his lap and sagged down in her seat. “What are we going to do with you?”

“Make me cookies?”

Sakura couldn’t hold back a snort or a smile. “My cookies have not been coming out that great, lately.”

“You’re worried about something?”

She rose from her seat and stretched her arms behind her back, lifting her face to the roof of her apartment room and watching the pattern of the plaster flicker from the simulated fire coming out of her television. It had been raining a lot more recently with the onset of the monsoon season and it made her want to cuddle in slippers and blankets in front of a fire. She didn’t have a fire, so she compromised with the next best thing.

“I’m not going to be worried about anything,” Sakura sighed like she was making a decision. “Help me get the ingredients. I needed to bake something for Ino’s party, it might as well be cookies. If they come out terrible we can stop at the grocery to drop off that resume and pick up treats worth eating.”

“I always like eating what you make,” Sai commented in a matter of fact tone that was so painfully Sai it made Sakura warm.

Another far off boom of thunder echoed outside and the pair looked to the window of her balcony where the first few drops were starting to come down. It had been raining almost every other day for the past week or so. More than one person wanted to blame Pein for it, but Sakura heard some of her patients say that cursing the handsome god would only be taken as prayers and payment for rain, so it was better to keep your mouth shut about it all and hope he stays off wherever he is spinning storms out of prayers.

He hadn’t been back in weeks, and the car she returned hadn’t been touched or seen since. She wanted to feel anxious about it, but now that she knew where he was, she didn’t. Even apart, it felt no different.

“Was I invited to this party?” Sai asked her.

Sakura blinked, tearing her eyes away from the rain streaks. Sai had one hand inside the flour jar, grasping for the measuring cup buried at the bottom. Sakura always forgot to take them out.

“Shouldn’t you know that?” Sakura asked before batting his hand away to reach in and remove the cup.

“I am not sure. I received no communication about this event, but Ino mentioned leaving that up to Naruto, so it is possible he forgot about me. He’s been...absent.”

“There’s a bug going around that’s heartier than the common cold. Naruto’s had it off and on the worst out of everyone I know. That’s not a secret or patient confidentiality, by the way. I don’t want you to think that-”

Sai waved her words away. “You were only saying what I already knew. He’s been absent so often at the grocery store, which is why I am applying. He was out all last week, but fine the week before that. He might be there at the party tonight.”

Sakura felt her stomach roll. “I hope he stays home and gets some rest. There’s only so much I can do and it’s frustrating when you reach the end of your usefulness.”

“None of us are useful for everything always. For all of us there is an end of our usefulness. What do we do when we reach that point? What do other do with us when we reach that point? I think about this more than I would like to admit.”

He took the measuring cup out of her hand and used it to count out the number of cups of flour the recipe needed. Sakura let him mix the first few dry ingredients before slumping forward to drape her arms over his shoulders and stop him where he stood. He made an irritated sound, unable to move as freely, but Sakura just hugged tighter.

He complained to her about trying to work and eventually she let go of him to sit back and watch him put the ingredients together. It was a while before he noticed she wasn’t helping, only watching.

“Is it me bringing the treats, or you?”

He handed her a dripping spatula she had to cup to keep her floor from getting dirty with batter. He dragged his index finger through the end of the spatula and then licked it clean before turning back to the work.

He hummed as he worked and ten minutes later the cookies were in the oven and Sai was cleaning his hands and complaining about the texture of cookie batter not being as good as the taste. She didn’t feel the need to comment, but Sakura couldn’t help but laugh, and it’s almost as bad as a comment judging by Sai’s reaction.

The cookies ended in something less than a disaster, pleasing Sakura greatly. Sai declared her baking funk was over and submitted an informal request for lemon bars.

“I’ll make you your lemon bars if you help me with my hair and makeup. You did such an amazing job last time,” Sakura said.

“It’s only because it’s on you. I don’t like working with others.”

Sakura rolleld her eyes and remembered the disaster that was the beauty salon. Ino had never looked closer to murdering someone. At this rate, Sakura was fearful for Sai’s life if he flubbed any more job opportunities. One of them was going to end up in blood or bruises, at the very least.

The party was to watch a livestream of a solar eclipse or something close to that, Sakura wasn’t really sure. Ino seemed ready to host a party for any odd reason and so Sakura didn’t question it when she was invited.

If Sakura considered it, she realized she had been separated from some of her friends a lot more recently. That might have been because she was no longer a hot new commodity, being the ‘new girl in town,’ or it could have been because of something else. Maybe something in the forest. Maybe something less drastic.

Even the Uchiha raven and crows were scarce these days, or if they were around, they were far off watching from a distance. She tried to pretend that didn’t give her anxiety, but it was hard. Sai and Yamato were balms to her soul. She didn’t know what she would do or feel if they hadn’t been there.

Sakura scribbled a note on her nightstand to make a call to the Uchiha and check in on Izuna to see if he needed another treatment. His lungs were coming along great and she missed the visits, to be honest. Just….after Itachi…

Sakura let the pen roll off her nightstand, leaving the note blank.

She changed out of her casual wear and stepped into a pair of dark blue straight leg ankle biters and strap heel sandals. It was a party after all, so she put some care into choosing a dressy top that complemented the curves she had and imagined the curves she didn’t.

She was going through her collection of cheap earrings when Sai let himself in.

“Let me do your hair first,” he said, lightly smacking her hands away from the bangles.

“I want something that hangs.”

“That would be smart since this is an off the shoulder top, good eye.”

Sakura beamed at the praise before her chin was roughly yanked up and her hair was pulled into his fingers. Sakura kept her mouth and eyes shut, already trusting his choices. He tugged at her hair tight and then pinned it back before weaving fingers under the strands and teasing them out. Sakura opened her eyes and looked in the mirror as he finished and smiled at the messy, low bun that had been too artfully crafted to be truly that messy.

He moved in front of her and touched the skin under her eyes before starting to smear cream there. Sakura winced at the cold feel, but let him paint her as he liked. Sai was good with his hands and had an eye for art. It was such a shame he couldn’t find a fit in a field where those traits were valued. His personality was too rough for a beauty salon.

“Sai!” Sakura gasped, eyes flying open.

“Shut them,” he commanded sternly.

Sakura did as she was told but didn’t settle her lips the same way. “I want your resume. I’m going to drop it off somewhere else. Forget about the grocery store.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Trust me.”

He clicked his tongue, but a few seconds later his brushes left her face and she heard him move. When she saw herself in the mirror she knew her suspicions were sure.

She grabbed a clutch and the pair left together. Sakura made Sai stop outside the tattoo parlor and dropped off his resume as well as a few sketches she had of his laying around. Sai stayed outside, staring up at the sign while Sakura put in the good word.

A handful of minutes later she had secured an interview on Thursday 4:30PM.

The whole rest of the way she was smirking like the cat that got the cream.

They were actually meeting it what looked like a renovated firehouse that Shikamaru was living in along with his buddy Choji. The pair split their time there and at the family homes. There were a few families hoping that wasn’t a trend that would catch on with their sons and daughters. Family was a big deal in Pompeii.

A few faces looked up and greeted Sakura with enthusiasm but then slid to Sai and then stiffly back to Sakura.

Ino cut through the crown to kiss the side of Sakura’s face and then tug the plate of cookies out of her hands.

“Come on, let’s get you something to drink, drink.”

Sakura could smell the booze and it was almost like highschool all over again, only this time they were supposed to all be adults. “Ino, it’s one in the afternoon.”

“What? It’s our happy hour.”

Her eyes were too wide and too blue to not be innocent. Sakura felt she couldn’t be surprised anymore by anything Ino said anymore.

“It’s good to see you too, Sai. You’ve been as elusive as ever. Sorry about the job not working out. Still friends?” the blonde cooed.

Sai nodded but seemed at a loss for words, which was okay because Ino just launched herself into the next thing she had planned on saying. In typical Ino fashion, all was forgiven and forgotten.

Something about Gaara doing this, Temari doing that, the Hyuga this, the Uchiha that. Sakura was glad for how much easier it was to keep up with the news and how much more impactful things seemed. These weren't just names anymore. She knew most of these people.

“Where are Shikamaru and Choji, anyway? I should see them and thank them for hosting this party,” Sakura said, looking out into the room where two dozen or so people were gathered to lounge on couch arms and turned round chairs. The television was on showing the eclipse as it happened across the country. Sai took up a spot in front of the television.

“Where do you think the lazy snore hound would be? He’s sleeping on the roof again. He says the monsoon clouds are some of his favorite to watch and that he’ll come back in if it starts to rain again. I think Sasuke went up there, actually. A good bet if you’re looking for that Uchiha is to search for the high places.” Ino shrugged. “It must be a bird thing.”

Sakura accepted the drink put into her hands and sniffed once before sipping at the rim. She looked up when she noticed Ino was waiting patiently for a comment or reaction.

“Is this...cider?” Sakura asked. “I thought the season was still a month or two off.”

“Funny about that, ‘cause it’s imported stuff. We’re bringing a lot of stuff in from the outside because our own stuff is on the down low, but just for a season. It’s great for variety. Sip, sip, I think you’ll like it.”

Sakura did like it and told Ino as much.

Ino moved on, taking a drink over to Gaara and encouraging him with a laugh like a bell to ‘enjoy himself’ a bit more. Moments later she was moving on to someone else, trying her best to make sure everyone was enjoying themselves like a good host would.

Sakura took Ino’s occupied space and sat down next to Gaara. Thankfully he seemed to perk up at the sight of her and not stiffen like he had around Ino.

“You look like you’re having fun,” Sakura lightly tease. “How have you been?”

“Better since seeing you. It’s been a...while?”

Sakura nodded, trying to remember the last time they had seen each other. “Not that long, though? What would you consider a long time?”

“It matters how much I want something, I suppose.” He sniffed at his drink and set it aside with a worried expression. “But it’s not just you. More families have become more busy with the summer season, that’s how it is every year I think. I’ve not seen Naruto in a couple weeks either.”

“Have you been sleeping, lately?” Sakura asked, reaching to brush hair out of his eyes without thinking. She paused only after her hand had made contact, realizing how inappropriate the contact might be since she hadn’t asked permission. “Sorry, bad doctor habit.”

Gaara managed a shy smile and shook his head. “No. Good doctor habit.” He looked up at all the edges of him seemed to melt around her. “It’s nice seeing you again here like this. You look nice.”

“Thanks, but I can’t take credit. I had help with my hair and makeup. I was never good at those things growing up when I was supposed to be learning such things.”

“We all have shortcomings, nothing to be embarrassed of.” He shrugged his shoulders and averted his eyes. “Also, you don’t really need...to be good at something like that. You look pretty no matter what you do.”

Sakura opened her mouth to say something back but the door to the front opened and she hear the conversation that made her head turn along with Gaara.

“Naruto! You made it, brat.”

“Don’t call me a brat, Kiba.”

Naruto and his twin were in the doorway but something was wrong about the way the blonde was standing, hands buried in the pockets of his windbreaker and smile wan. His skin wasn’t healthy with the usual tan, and his eyes seemed agitated.

Menma muttered something Sakura couldn’t hear from the distance, but guessed it to be something chastising based of both boy’s body language. Something like, ‘you really shouldn’t be here, Naruto.’

Sakura couldn’t help but agree when the doctor in her screamed at all the symptoms of an ill person that was pushing himself. Her eyes were wide, soaking all of him in with horror.

As if feeling it, his eyes met hers and the wan smile stretched wide.

“Sakura!” his hands slipped out of his pockets and he made a beeline for her. He looked so happy even if his brother was a vision of worry.

Sakura felt her heart stop when Naruto didn’t even make it halfway across the floor, but staggered and collapsed in a sick, sliding smile, and dizzy eyes.

Several voices shouted at once.

All Sakura could feel was dread.

#Pompeii #Weird Wednesdays

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front-lines · 7 years ago

Photo

ROCKWELL, FAREWELL

Claire Rockwell, Esq., has been appointed as the United States’ representative to a UN special task force which will be convening at the International Court of Justice in The Hague. Ms. Rockwell’s credentials are extensive, having graduated from Yale Law at the top of her class, and being the daughter of General David Rockwell, a decorated former US Army veteran who, following his military retirement, served on the World Security Council until his death.

Choosing to take a more philanthropic route than her father, Ms. Rockwell founded the non-profit Citizens’ Heroes following the Battle of Manhattan. The organization works to help with the recovery after super battles, collaborating with several other non-profits, as well as running a children’s shelter based in New York, though she left the organization earlier this year to disassociate her own stance on the ACCORDS from that of the group.

Before her departure, Ms. Rockwell agreed to a retrospective interview with the Bugle.

Hit the jump to hear more.

Ms. Rockwell, congratulations on your appointment. And thank you for hosting us.

Thank you, but I wish it hadn’t come to the point where this appointment was necessary.

Do you have any orders from the President on how to proceed during this gathering?

I think I can show you the official commission, assuming I haven’t packed it away already [laughs]. The gist of it was that he wanted me to make it clear the United States will strive to be an example for the world during the process of the ACCORDS being evaluated. Though I think it might also be to get me out of the country for a while.

What makes you say that?

Well, if I stay in the US, I’d probably end up in a Supreme Court case talking about the human rights violations committed at the Hart Island prison. There were minors in there, being subjected to torture without a proper trial. That’s at least Amendments Five, Seven and Eight of the Constitution being violated right there. I think it’s absolutely disgusting, and I’m sure there’s a large portion of people in the government who would prefer it if I were off in the Netherlands, rather than making trouble for them here in the States.

You weren’t happy with the ACCORDS.

No, I wasn’t. I’m still not, and I’ve never made any secret about that. I even reached out to my father’s old colleague, Alexander Pierce, before he passed away himself. I… wasn’t all that happy with his response, but I know it’s in poor taste to speak ill of the dead. To his credit, I do think his intentions were good. But I also think it kind of proved my point. In the face of ugly situations, people often do things that they might not have considered in other circumstances. And intent is often meaningless.

But your organization is dedicated to the recovery from superhero battles. Does that mean intent is meaningless there too?

Absolutely not. But that’s because Citizens’ Heroes has layers of protocol in place to keep the intents from being corrupted or otherwise compromised. The process of how the ACCORDS was basically rushed into effect and how no one seemed to consider the ramifications of implementing them is what frustrates and disappoints me more than anything. When I say intent is meaningless, I’m talking about it in concepts of evil things being done with good intentions. Which I don’t think is the same thing as the collateral damage issues that resulted in the ACCORDS’ creation.

So, would I be right in thinking that you’re in favor of fully dismantling the ACCORDS?

I am in favor of eliminating any and all legislation that unfairly targets people purely based on their abilities. I do think we need stronger legal practices enforced for those who abuse their gifts for selfish reasons, and we need clearer definitions of what counts as abusing those powers.

Do you have an example?

I do, actually. After I left Citizens’ Heroes, one of the clients I picked up was the Xavier Institute. There are a number of people there whose powers are essentially involuntary. Under the ACCORDS as they were implemented, these people could have been arrested for accidentally or unknowingly using their gifts. And then we start to get into the issue of discrimination. If a person is being arrested because of the powers, rather than what they’ve done with them, the ACCORDS are punishing them for something they had no choice in.

You’re not going to go into further specifics?

I’m not going to violate client confidentiality. If someone has a story they want to share with your readers, I’m sure they will when they feel it’s safe enough for them to do so. But that’s another issue I have with the ACCORDS, people who harbor anti-metahuman sentiment now feel that they can openly spew their vitriol. I believe some of them have even submitted to the Bugle’s Citizen’s Report section?

The Bugle has disavowed those views.

Yet you still print them.

The public has a right to know these opinions to make their own judgements, Ms. Rockwell. People could make the same kind of assessments about this interview.

I’m not saying they don’t; Freedom of the press is a vital part of our nation’s principles. But printing those kinds of things is its own tacit endorsement. And if they want to have a civilized conversation about this with me, they’re welcome to come find me at the American Embassy in the Netherlands. If they want to come to punch me in the gut as some of their [clears throat] like-minded compatriots have done in the past, I’d ask that they stay here in the States. And that they not punch people.

Good words to live by.

Unless a person is a superhero, and the target of the punching is a supervillain. Then, I think a little punching is justified.

Getting back on track, do you know how long your time at The Hague will be?

I think it’s safe to say it’ll be a long time. This is international policy that’s going to have a lot of fine print being hammered out, and even if it ever makes it out of the ICJ, it’ll still need to be ratified by all UN nations. But, no, we don’t have an exact time frame in mind at this point. I think they’ll brief us on the goals and the desired duration when all the representatives are gathered.

What are your plans for when you get back?

Well, depending on how things have panned out, I may resume my time representing those people who want to press charges for their mistreatment on Hart Island, but I was thinking that it might be time for me to look at public service. I’ve spent the majority of my life in Washington DC, I know how things work there. Maybe it’s a bit ambitious to be looking at the House or the Senate, but there are a lot of other good positions at the state level I’m interested in seeing about. But again, I think it’s all going to depend on how things go at The Hague.

Well, I wish you the best of luck with this task force. Thank you for your time today.

It was a pleasure to have you. I’ll make sure to get a copy of this to read on the plane ride.

#fightasone #fao: civil war #cw aftermath #story by:#clairerockwell

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hayle64 · 8 years ago

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playing mercy with fatigue harvested thoughts from another rough night i was too in my head/paying no attention in since i was elsewhere getting compromised/almost making some pleasurable love with outdoor flashy lights that had one earring runnin incredibly wild (dont lose it again). first time inna long time im showing up all alone. not all the way by myself, i came along with him, him, the overgrown nigga whos playing tracks they’re finding themselves uncontrollably moving towards. a few songs, a couple less wus good’s, im here searching for a special to cure this over the top exhaustion i shouldn't have been feeling so soon. is this how im suppose to feel cause damn gravity’s hittin pretty heavy. signs to take as find you the bombay equinox, nigga you dont even really like this joint anyway. making it inside, rudely not seeing the who that was around me once quietly stepping forward. first cup and im already politely letting go when our hands touched. hope the, “sorry i didnt see you, go head thats all you, i’ll make that next one” was alright. she smiles which i took as it was alright. departing away just as quickly as i entered. finding this back of mines hugging/putting in that strong work against a friendly empty space. watching them all closely atta afar. tonguing a memory of first day’s i couldnt get a single somebody to lemme take a seat with em. biting my lip once i started realizing its now “do you know if ivy’s gonna make it”. biting down even harder cause the answers are probably sum like who knows when it comes to that nigga.. unfazed and defenseless by this muck of an imagination im touring through. wondering how much time had passed before i heard the question thrown in a room full madness. a calm “what do you want?” that violently spun chills throughout my core.. covering my face with my beaten bruised left. pressured dark palm of mines answering i want to leave here. but damn that was minutes ago n’ im still in that same empty space doing courses through my hair with these fingertips. placing a curious focus on the ceiling. my body strangely maybe appearing to be in waits for someone to comfortably grab,tug, pull on me with some urgency. always been in belief i was lost. ive been having dreams lately of a someone/something finding me witta genuine approach of theres this place im suppose to be. a place unbothered thats filled witta feel only i or we could understand (fuck).. im wondering off too much, guess im again in another place i've spent too much time caressing. stealing another sip of this sweet that sleeps within the bottom of the plastic cup. a taste no where close to that stay on your mind fountain you can find between carefully soft places she may called her private flower.. swaying to sound that was more than right to keep me a moment longer. started smiling to myself to some unpure idea i cant remember, but was deep enough i almost had dropped this almost emptied cup. starting to think i had too much, im feeling this touch around the arm that wasnt one from me. looking down to realize what was standing patiently in front for me to notice. braver around five’six asking the surface question of if im really enjoying this song. the color close to red that’d probably shown on my face if it wasnt for the dark pigment. it was more the simple record, i tend to take myself to other/nevermind unable to reply to whats she was asking from the green eyes and light mixed tribe skin that were nicely distracting. i was thinkin how long were you rite there, understanding later she had been watching since that bitter tropical drake song. if i payed more attention her eyes was making conversation when we both grabbed that same cup back then in that one room (buggin). innocent stalking from across the way. her friends, a few girls all pretending to not watch what could be talked upon inna later group text. time now passing from shared schools we both attend, and the fact she’s a nurse fora hospital i just happen to be born in. she doesnt do parties, this was a rare monday night cleanse. venue shows hosting small artist on the weekends her only real pleasure beside reading books from favorite chefs. she’s has an older sister who was also one of four watching. she wasnt as thick as the younger sister, or im meant close to me as her little sister, but i could easily see this family resemblance. “ivy what do you like to do?”, shit bashful thinking, jumping fences, getting a thick ass to sit up on it in reverse positions (my drinks almost completed, fuck). redness on her face before the “omg, ivyyyy seriously?” that had me thinking bout my recent ended relation.. i get it, i really get it, the last letter was y’ and like my ex always into dropping unnessecary questions before the panties, i can clearly see you will maybe be no different with the curiosity. eyes again prowling since theres a new expression on her face. they're waiting again for something to happen and god the darker me’s saying you know what you are make her overwhelmed by those few letters.. put in the action to get them all wet through a “thats what i need” universal connection. a mouthful with these hands, theres a reason for this attire. my types foever been the book girl in the small dark sundress (i fucks with the outfit). her lips moving, im thinking more than listening about her face in the dirties ways cause she had the nerve to come up to me without even knowing my name.. a gentle night to free the mind, she probably believes im smiling to whatever she's saying, but im afraid this precious lily doesnt gotta grasped on how rocky im tending to make this wave she’s provoking become. small talk and niggas who get the urge to touch whats mines/she was mines (chill save that for later), is some shit i cant put up it. crossroads with these building emotions that are taking over. i wanna aggressively choke you even if i just met you. telling myself lightly grab her throat n’ ask what was it you really desired from me. fuck the disguise, speak the truth, lemme know if theres an outcome to this night that i could give you what would it be.. romantics along paradise cove before the sun rises, or would you prefer getting bent in local parking lot, where your face was only kissing me/rear seat. ive been such a good nigga and this bitch got me feelin tempted. ima sick bastard unable to focus and i know she sees it. a working nurse huh?, well place the stitching near this wound around my heart. show me how precise those hands of yours really are. me and my ex never got the chance to play that part, i mean we did alotta things that if i told you, you probably take off and leave me (doubtful). she grabs my arm again, the shit to obviously bring that tragic back. asks that irritating line of “gimme you instagram”.. take a second and straight up say iight, but imma head out for minute (never came back, crashed near the water. had to uber to the homies to find the homie had tried to get with the other sister in the past, legendary)

#who is this girl in the picture #you have a girlfriend #nah but im getting kinda bored now i gotta dipp #missin her

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bambamramfan · 8 years ago

Note

1/2 I know you frame many of your critiques in terms of "ideology", but you seem to use the term in different ways depending on the post. Sometimes you talk about abstract values: caricatures in media, nebulous culture iconography. Sometimes you're separating broad familiar political groupings and specifying their traits (this comes up when you talk about socialism). And sometimes you seem to be talking about communities (or demographics, but it's important to make a distinction between those).

2/2 I see these situations as different enough that I would prefer to use different words. Why do you use the one? Do they all reduce to one concept for you? If so, how?

So let’s start with why we are having these conversations. If you’re reading this blog I assume you’re familiar with the claim “both sides do it,” when you notice both sides of a political fight are acting badly. Ignoring evidence, name-calling, cognitive dissonance, even harassing members of the other political side, or obsessively focusing on a few instances of terrorism to prove the entire other side is bankrupt. You’ve probably been in the situation where you agreed with the fundamental beliefs of one political side, but didn’t know what to do about the fact that it felt like they were acting badly and betraying their beliefs, but the other side wasn’t really any better. Scott has certainly written about this dilemma a lot.

And we recognize “a lot of the way people talk about politics fails, and it fails in the same way.” That’s why politics is called the mindkiller. Now many people will say “Oh I just guess political discussion is terrible, lets just not talk politics or morality.” But that can’t be right either - we can easily imagine good political discussions - based on evidence and ethical principles, with respect for our opponents as human beings even when they disagree with that.

So to critique ideology is trying to find “the ways these political dynamics keep failing, what the whole system has in common, and how we can avoid that.”

I for instance am strongly opposed to dehumanization. It is the bedrock principle of this particular blog. The left wing side of American politics has policies more in concordance with this, but it must be admitted that liberal discourse has increasingly embraced dehumanization of its enemies. So why doesn’t American liberalism resist dehumanization, and how can you have a politics that consistently follows your ethical principles, without being seduced into thinking “your greatest values are worth violating as long as it hurts your enemies.”

That’s the aim. Let’s talk about why it’s all one big system, and not separable parts.

******

Question for you. What is the Republican Party? Especially if you’re looking at it from the question of “if there was one thing I could control, to thereby control the whole party with, what is it?”

(As with my previous post on Republican dynamics, you can say all these same things for the Democratic Party if you prefer to think of it that way.)

It’s not the Republican National Committee, or any other institutional organizations. They can’t really drive policy or discussion. Most voters or radio talk show hosts just complain about them.

It’s not individual politicians. Many of them are very different from each other - look at the passage from Dubya to Trump. But the torch passed with most of the same voters and supporters intact (despite a hostile takeover. Something was taken over. What was it?)

It’s not “the collection of all the voters or office holders.” These are many different demographics - rich bankers, white farmers in Idaho, oilmen in Texas, Cuban families in Florida. And what more there’s very little demographic test. While their policies are bad for black people and gay people and hispanic people, by and large individuals of those demographics are enthusiastically embraced as converts, to say “Republican policies ARE better for black people!” Just look at their love of Tim Scott and Colin Powell. By the same token, loyalty to current Republicans is very shallow - if you step out of line and disagree with the popular line of the day, you get labelled as a RINO, attacked by radio talk shows, possibly even harassed and driven out of the party entirely.

Are they defined by their particular values then? Well on a policy level, their lock-step-heel switch the Individual Mandate solution for health insurance, or Cap-and-Trade, showed alarming rapidity in how a favored policy can become an opposed policy. There wasn’t even cognitive dissonance really, just complete disavowal. Even on policies we think of as very fundamental to Republicans, like lower taxes, were not negotiated on by federal Republicans so long as President Obama was part of the deal. Any presence of any Democrat in the deal could ruin its purity.

You could say they are committed to certain philosophical principles in the abstract sense, but what are they? Would all the factions agree with those? Do they even consistently predict what policies will be proposed and voted on?

As I said before in the Senate Republicans post, I wouldn’t even identify this system within individuals. As individuals many Republicans believe sensible, similar object-level things like you or your liberal friends.

We could go all nihilistic here and say the Republican Party isn’t a real thing we can understand. But it seems like there are a lot of predictions we can make based on our knowledge of something called the Republican Party. We know the way all the Senators will vote, we know which candidate will win Georgia and by what percentage within ten percent, and we know what bills they will try to repeal.

How do we identify this ideology?

******

So you read my post on terminology: the Big Other, the Dark Other, and joissance.

Arlie Hochschild spent five years talking to various conservatives of different class levels that helped him understand the populist uprising that we eventually saw last year. They had a lot of different life circumstances, different politicians they were supporting of, and their expression of abstract political values was vague at best.

When I asked people what politics meant to them, they often answered by telling me what they believed ("I believe in freedom") or who they'd vote for ("I was for Ted Cruz, but now I'm voting Trump"). But running beneath such beliefs like an underwater spring was what I've come to think of as a deep story. The deep story was a feels-as-if-it's-true story, stripped of facts and judgments, that reflected the feelings underpinning opinions and votes. It was a story of unfairness and anxiety, stagnation and slippage—a story in which shame was the companion to need. Except Trump had opened a divide in how tea partiers felt this story should end.

...

What the people I interviewed were drawn to was not necessarily the particulars of these theories. It was the deep story underlying them—an account of life as it feels to them. Some such account underlies all beliefs, right or left, I think. The deep story of the right goes like this:You are patiently standing in the middle of a long line stretching toward the horizon, where the American Dream awaits. But as you wait, you see people cutting in line ahead of you. Many of these line-cutters are black—beneficiaries of affirmative action or welfare. Some are career-driven women pushing into jobs they never had before. Then you see immigrants, Mexicans, Somalis, the Syrian refugees yet to come. As you wait in this unmoving line, you're being asked to feel sorry for them all. You have a good heart. But who is deciding who you should feel compassion for? Then you see President Barack Hussein Obama waving the line-cutters forward. He's on their side. In fact, isn't he a line-cutter too? How did this fatherless black guy pay for Harvard? As you wait your turn, Obama is using the money in your pocket to help the line-cutters. He and his liberal backers have removed the shame from taking. The government has become an instrument for redistributing your money to the undeserving. It's not your government anymore; it's theirs.I checked this distillation with those I interviewed to see if this version of the deep story rang true. Some altered it a bit ("the line-waiters form a new line") or emphasized a particular point (those in back are paying for the line-cutters). But all of them agreed it was their story. One man said, "I live your analogy." Another said, "You read my mind."

Hochschild thinks this a sympathetic way to describe their beliefs, because it shows they don’t actually hate black people or whatnot. I think it’s abhorrent. And it precisely fits that triptych to define an ideology: the Big Other is whoever at the front of the line giving things out, the Dark Other is the people cutting, or rather leaders like Obama helping them cut, and joissance is the “American Dream” that is being handed out.

The story isn’t even a very effective way of handling problems. It’s about resentment at that Dark Other, and not what sort of compromises you could make to reduce line-cutting, or increase the amount of “American Dream” to hand out. These are fantasy concepts after all, and people’s feeling about them. Some policies or individual politicians will not reduce their impact on you nearly as much as “Someone speaking out against them!” feeds your sense of injured anger.

So that’s the best way to define it. What is the Republican Party? It is the system that follows this explanation for “what is wrong with the world” and everything that builds up around it. It’s the system’s memetic efficiency, and the people acting as a group to execute it, and the cultural artifacts they surround themselves with that share the same ideological message. (Art does have political messages, even the most inoffensive stuff.) But none of those epiphenomenon are responsible for the ideology itself, nor should they be held accountable for it.

Twenty-Four is a highly ideological show that talks about the need for harsh violence that offends our intuitions about virtue in order to defend our freedoms. That doesn’t make it responsible for the perpetuation of neoconservative ideology, more a reflection of what’s going on under the hood.

So you can’t really separate the “abstract values: caricatures in media, nebulous culture iconography” because I’m not even objecting to any of those on their own. The values, media, and cultural icons can all be good in different contexts. But as part of an overall system, I want to understand them and fight them.

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