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fandomstars · 1 year ago

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Fairly Odd Pokemon

Warning: Mentions of neglect/child endangerment. Also, this is a long headcanon thing fyi.

* = Shiny Pokémon

M = Male F = Female G= Genderless

*Insert move* -> *insert move* = Can use both (Like a power level dynamic. Example, using water gun in small fires, and can transition to hydro pump for big fires. Can alternate between both no problem (well more energy needed for hydro pump in comparison but still). Counts as one move though.)

Also, this is an AU where Timmy is the protagonist instead of Ash. Also, all of Ash's travel companions are replaced by FOP characters. And this takes place in Unova (since it's close to the US, right?), with Dimmsdale just on the outside border of the region. Also, yes other region Pokémon appear, all but Galar and Alola. Why? Maybe some magic got involved long ago to make it happen. ;)

Plus, Poof is the older of him and Timmy in this AU.

And yes, the evil Pixies team is named after LOR dragon Smaug. Reason is Pixies are money makers, and I figured what better name for their evil team than of a treasure/gold hoarding dragon? Meanwhile Team Mishap is the Anti-Fairies, whom unlike Pixies, don't hide them being the bad guys at all.

A Summary (if possible/needed): In the small town of Dimmsdale, 10-year-old Timmy can finally become an official Pokémon trainer. Though throughout his journey, he will have to face the evil Team Mishap (Anti-Fairies) and Team Smaug (Disgusted as the business corporation Pixie Inc.). Making friends, making enemies, all while trying to become the very best and make a name for himself? The world really isn't going to make it easy is it.

Characters:

Timmy

Gary

Chester

Tad

Chad

Trixie

Veronica

Tootie

Elmer

Sanjay

Poof

Foop

More possibly to be added...depends on if you guys want more (request in inbox of possible oneshots/headcanons for this and all characters! Pokemon included!)

———-

Bios:

Name: Timmy Turner Fairywinkle-Cosma

Age: 10

Occupation: Pokémon trainer / Gym challenger / Coordinator

Hair color / Style: Light Brown and spiky

Eye color: Blue

Outfits:

Regular - Pink t-shirt, blue jeans, and matching blue sneakers

Contest - Light blue tuxedo with matching tie, blue mask, black dress shoes, and fingerless white gloves

Training - White kung-fu outfit with pink, green, and purple striped belt

Facial features: Buck two front teeth

Other: Has a small facial scar on the bottom of his chin

Backstory: It happened when he and Gary were four, their mother and father just happened leave them at the camping site and drove off home. Lost and scared, the two mistakenly took a hallow tree as a resting place, when it was a Beedrill nest (luckily said mons were sleepy still, and simply dazed out. But that didn't stop some, as those Beedrill had the move Sleep Talk and or Snore.). They ran off screaming, but before they ran into a Pokémon ranger, they fell into a ravine where they got said scar. Getting said scar, Gary with a mere identical one on his chin too, were brought to a nearby hospital where local police came to investigate. So, the CPS later is called, and the twins are dropped off at Wanda and Cosmo's for the night, to later being adopted and living permanently there once the forms were done and their 'parents' were imprisoning for child abandonment and other crimes.

Personality: He's overall a very caring individual, at least those closest to him. Around strangers he's a bit cold, due to lack of trust of many people compared to Pokémon, especially adults. He only at first, was kindhearted and open to his godparents, twin and godbrothers. Then later A.J. and Chester. Sometimes he can get a little into his head and turn selfish in case of popularity. Thankfully, Gary is the one who is able to pull him back and get his head straight. He's very protective though of those he cares for, especially Pokémon.

Hometown: Dimmsdale

Starter: Totodile (Nicknamed Chomps) (Professor Juniper got a switch up with new starters that year, and so the twins got different starters of different regions)

Family:

Mrs. Turner (Estranged)

Mr. Turner (Estranged)

Wanda Fairywinkle-Cosma (Godmother / Adopted Mom)

Cosmo Fairywinkle-Cosma (Godfather / Adopted Dad)

Poof Fairywinkle-Cosma (Godbrother / Adopted Older Brother / Older twin of Foop)

Foop Anthony Fairywinkle-Cosma (Godbrother / Adopted Older Brother / Younger twin of Poof)

Gary Fairywinkle-Cosma (but just goes by Gary cause the last name doesn't sound "cool") (Twin brother) (Older by 1 minute)

Best Friends: A.J. and Chester (Also traveling with)

Acquittances: Sanjay and Elmer

Rivals: Tad, Chad, Remy, Tootie, Trixie (not to her acknowledgement), and Francis

Enemies: Teams Mishap (Anti-fairies), Team Smaug (Pixies), and Vicky

Possible Love Interest: Trixie / Remy (not till way later, and not until he gets over his crush on Trixie..so awhile)

Pokémon Team:

Nickname -> Pokemon -> Ability -> Moves

Chomps | Totodile -> Croconaw -> Feraligatr | Torret | Agility, Bite -> Crunch, Dragon Claw, Rain Dance, Aerial Ace, Water Gun -> Hydro Pump, Metal Claw, and Shadow claw

Ace | Weedle -> Kakuna -> Beedrill | Swarm | Pin Missle, Poison Jab, Agility, Brick Break, Aerial Ace, Swords Dance, Sleep Talk, and Double Team

Hevy | Phanpy -> Donphan | Sturdy | Rollout, Earthquake, Slam, Hidden Power, Stone Edge, Fire fang, Ice Shard, and Iron Defense

Thorn* | Egg -> Eevee -> Leafeon | Chlorophyll | Razor Leaf -> Magical Leaf, Bite -> Crunch, Swords Dance, Quick Attack, Facade, Energy Ball, Iron Tail, and Shadow Ball

Cleft | Pikachu -> Raichu (Alola) | Lightning Rod | Agility -> Quick Attack -> Double Team, Thunderbolt -> Thunder, Mega kick -> Mega Punch, Psychic, Dig, Iron Tail, and Grass Knot

Ally | Slyveon (twin of Gary’s) | Pixilate |

———-

Name: Gary Turner Fairywinkle-Cosma (Goes by just Gary since it sounds 'mysterious/cool' without any last name. Only uses it for documents, tournament sign ups, and with family.)

Age: 10

Occupation: Pokémon trainer / Gym challenger

Hair color / Style: Black and grease style

Eye color: Blue

Outfits:

Regular - Red coat, white t-shirt, blue navy pants and blue sneakers, also wears a pair of black shades

Training - White tank top and matching pants, with a green and pink belt with purple highlights

Facial features: Buck two front teeth

Other: Small scar on the bottom of his chin

Personality: He tries very hard to look and be cool wherever he goes, but it's really a shell of whom he really is, and only Timmy and his Pokémon know for a long while. Not that he doesn't get cocky or arrogant sometimes, but he's more mellow more than anything. Despite being the same age, he's very protective of Timmy, and such events to trigger this can actually break the arrogant shell he holds. He's been like such since the Beedrill incident. He's also secretly a nerd but hides his high intelligence with sass (or with sass if needed). But in private, likes to geek out with Timmy of their favorite Pokémon and trainers in the world.

Hometown: Dimmsdale

Starter: Chimchar (Nicknamed Jazz)

Family:

Mrs. Turner (Estranged)

Mr. Turner (Estranged)

Wanda Fairywinkle-Cosma (Godmother / Adopted Mom)

Cosmo Fairywinkle-Cosma (Godfather / Adopted Dad)

Poof Fairywinkle-Cosma (Godbrother / Adopted Older Brother / Older twin of Foop)

Foop Anthony Fairywinkle-Cosma (Godbrother / Adopted Older Brother / Younger twin of Poof)

Timmy Fairywinkle-Cosma (or 'Tim Tim') (Twin brother) (Younger by 1 minute)

Best Friend (s): Timmy, Foop, A.J., and Chester (latter two redundant to admit)

Acquittances: Remy and Trixie

Rivals: Tad, Chad, Remy, and Francis

Enemies: Teams Mishap, Team Smaug, Francis, Vicky, and anyone who hurts his family

Possible Love Interest (s): Kinda flirts with anyone, but secretly has a crush on either Chad, A.J., or Trixie (he kinda flirts so much, that he has no idea what is genuine till later on.)

Pokémon Team:

Nickname -> Pokemon -> Ability -> Moves

Jazz | Chimchar -> Monferno -> Infernape | Blaze | Mach Punch -> Close Combat, Ember -> Fire Spin -> Fire Blast, Flame Wheel -> Flame Charge -> Flare Blitz, Iron Tail, Dual Chop, Shadow Claw, Stone Edge, Acrobatics, and Attract

*Maximus | Weedle -> Kakuna -> Beedrill | Sniper | Pin Missile

Gladiator | Scraggy -> Scrafty | Moxie |

Titan | Krokorok -> Krookodile | Intimidate |

Ivy | Mienfoo -> Mienshao | Inner Focus |

Luna | Egg -> Eevee -> Umbreon | Synchronize |

In Rotation:

*Crystal | Sylveon | Cute Charm | Charm, Quick Attack, Swift, Moonblast, Detect, Dig, Psyshock, and Shadow Ball

#fairly oddparents #pokemon #anime #fandom #writers on tumblr #headcanon #long reads #timmy turner #cosmo and wanda #crossover #pokemon trainer #pokemon fanfiction #fanfic writing #fanfic #fanfiction #imaginary gary #tumblrstuff #tumblr

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speedypandaweasel · 4 years ago

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One Big Adventure - a Wilford Warfstache and Abe story (Non-Ship) (2,914 Words)

Thank you for the request @canceltheact! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

If you would like to submit a request, see the information at the Masterlist and submit through the Q and A!

PSA - THIS IS NOT A SHIP oke, let us begin...

Dazed images fog up the minds of two *very* hungover men as they stagger their way up to the apartment. Abe fumbles his way through the door and over strewn clothes. He continues on and manages to put together the kaleidoscope of scenery that is right in front of him. To his left, a saggy sofa sits and a cheap TV dangerously hangs off the stripping wallpaper by a thread. To his right, a grimy kitchen is on display which even the worst chef in the world wouldn't waste his time in. The other man, however, is blabbering away, slurring his words like a car on an icy motorway. "HA!, I tell *hick* you Abe, I'm so glad I remembered you, you see *hick*, I can't even remember where I put my-" Aaaand he's gone. His body moulds into the cushions that poorly support his droopy frame, and his scuffed platform boots dangle over the side. Abe smiles, slightly soberer than before. Who would have thought that this stock still of a man, whose only aesthetics were the colour beige and veterans, would somehow have a goofy, lighter side to him? All the criminals he's met and caught among the years...

Hold up, has he met anyone? He can't remember any experiences where he HAS met any, so why did he think that? Hm, must be the Tequila talking. Abe hopscotches over the empty Wine and Martini bottles that are decorated across the stained carpet. Damm, William has not been taking care of himself. Mind you, neither has he so he can't really say anything. He arrives into the walk-in kitchen and opens a dusty cupboard. His tired eyes only meet with shot and tumbler glasses.

How much does this Man drink!? Shuffling used plates and greasy cutlery out of the way, he fills a scotch glass with water. Dowsing the liquid felt like heaven. His exhausted physique felt like a body that's been stuck in the desert for a considerable amount of time and didn't know it needed water to survive. Oh, now he feels the headache coming on.

Reader, you know when water tastes funny? It's because your brain hasn't been receiving enough H20 because you've been drinking too many energy drinks. Yeah, that feeling is exactly what Abe is feeling right now. CONTINUING ON!

The scotch glass watches from the draining board whilst the Detective plays the quietest game of the floor is lava, whilst the moustached man is making much more noise. He manages to reach a corridor which he thinks leads towards the bedroom and tiptoes down the tight hall to find a vacant room. On the way, he passes another room. It was Barnum's. His mind was split in two, Does he go in? Or stay out? Through the crack in the door, the catastrophe has indeed spread into his sleeping quarters. A mountain of flamboyant disco clothes gathers dust in front of his Chester draws, the bed's not made and more liquor bottles are having a social gathering on top. Oh William, you may be a murderer, but you need to prioritise yourself. He takes a last look at his passed out flatmate down the hallway, before shutting the guest bedroom door. Grey. It's all he's met with. Much like his exterior. He slips his shoes off and starts to unbutton his off-white shirt. he runs a hand down his chest and over the scar. How the Hell did he survive that? He can't be bothered to go into it right now, he's too tired. He snuggles into bed and does the infamous cold bed dance.

You know the one.

Abe gets out of the tempting bed once more and walks back into the living room. He creeps over to William, the man's mouth catching flies. He carefully takes his enormous shoes off and places them on the floor. Barnum's mismatch socks disappear underneath the blanket. "Night William."

~ A gorgeous smell of Breakfast wanders its way through the apartment and Abe groggily wakes up. His eyes peel open and with a yawn, he trudges through to the living room. Remembering from earlier this morning, he needed to position himself for his dance routine around the non-existent floor. "What are you doing my main man?" Barnum brightly asks, a hearty chuckle accompanies the question. Resided in the pristine kitchen, his big, strong hand holds a Skillet and two China plates are centred on the pebble grey marble island. Abe, however, is currently squatting as though he was playing a game of leapfrog with some imaginary friends. The Detective goes to jump but then is taken back at the sight. The apartment is now spick and span, no more Wine Bottles, no more strewn clothes. The windows are tied wide open and it overlooks the sketchy neighbourhood that they reside in. "How did you do this?" "Do what?" "You know, clean up this quickly?" Barnum checks his watch. It's 7:30 am "Oh well you see, I ironed a nice pair of jeans and found a lovely dandelion coloured shirt. Accompanied by some rainbow braces I think I look quite dashing don't you think so?" "No William, I-I mean the Apartm-AAH!" Abe clings his hand over his head, damm this- "Headache is killing you?" William slides a glass of water over with an Aspirin pill. "And no, I didn't clean the apartment, she did." Wilford looks- wait, why are you looking at me!? "Anywho, we need to get going my slightly hungover companion! But first, breakfast!" Wilford sets a serving plate down of a full English Breakfast: Sausage, an Egg, two cooked Tomatoes, Bacon rashes, Baked Beans and a slice of Buttered Toast. Wow. He didn't know William could cook? The two men got stuck in right away and the TV is turned on. Two bright and very similar faces appear on the screen "Badgers the secret Killer?... And now for the weather, Jim?"

The camera pans to, what they believe, is Jim. Their face resembles a deer in headlights. "I swear, they don't know what they're doing. It's hilarious!" The Detective says with a mouthful of Toast. Barnum laughs, wipes his mouth with a napkin and takes a swig of his Orange juice. "Right! I mean, who is their boss anyway?!" The men eat and laugh their way through their plates talking about what topics they would cover if they were reporters. After a while, they both recline back into their bar stools and the cook starts to tidy up the dirty dishes. "Oh, no, let me do it. It's the least I can do." "You're alright my man, I've got this. Besides, you need to freshen up!" "But whe-'" "First door on your left"

They share a light chuckle. "Thanks Wilford, I really appreciated that," Abe says before going back down the hallway, whilst Wilford rolls his sleeves up and starts to clean the less-silver cutlery.

He smiles. That's the first time he's ever said that to him. "No problem Abe."

The passenger door slams shut on the Detective's Vintage SUV and Wiford pulls out a gigantic map from his pocket. This map includes hundreds of paths scrawled with crayons and a hint of Martini can be smelt.

"Are you sure, you know where you're going?" Abe questions. Judging by what that map reads, they are going to get lost very easily.

"Of course I know where I'm going! I am Wilford Motherloving Warftsache after all." A pang of guilt hits the Detective, he genuinely can't remember who he was.

"Ok, Wil, you can drive."

After playing at least 3 rounds of rock paper scissors, or when Wilford won, Abe hesitantly let the murderer drive. God knows where though.

Wilford excitedly thrust the keys into the ignition. He couldn't wait for what the day entailed!

"Careful Willford, you're gonna break the keys!" Abe says through gritted teeth.

"Oh pah-lease! I know how to drive" he retaliates. His brown boot floors the pedal and reverses straight into the iron fence.

"Yep, it's working."

The Detectives face, now pale, grips tighter onto his seatbelt and his feet are glued to the floor. "Wil, of course it's working. Now, step on the ga- nope, that's the brakes Wilford."

Pedestrians quiver in fear as they see a horribly driven brown vehicle screech to a stop and then start again. They have to clamp down on their ears as the monster of a car drives past them down the alleyway, swerving left and right much like the driver's speech the other night.

The SUV survives to the end of the road and dents a stop sign perched, well once, straight on the kerb.

"Will, which route are we taking?" Abe asks as he takes the map from the driver's hands.

"It's the one marked Highway of Life, it's gonna be a good one, trust you me."

"Well, this has got off to a surprising start so why not go for an adventure?" Abe says. He's given up at this point.

"LIFE IS A HIIIGHHWWAYY! I WWAAANNNA RRIIDDEE IIT ALLL NIIGGHTT LOOOOONNGG!" The two pop stars start belting out of the car as Wilford drives them to their last stop. Who would have thought that two polar opposites positions of the law would be in the same car together, let alone blasting Disney songs out of the car.

Wilford's hair whips away from his face as the SUV's top winds down.

"LIFE NEEDS A BIT OF MADNESS EH ABE?"

"HELL YEAH IT DOES"

The Afternoon sun blazes down onto their blacked-out sunglasses and the Golden Gate bridge paints a picture for the Detective that prescribes him with a carefree attitude.

Life was his to choose and he was here for it.

The SUV turns off the Highway onto Richmond Street. The Afternoon sun glowing dimmer.

Just in time.

Now reader, if you haven't read my WKM Tumblr Song series, then you won't understand this next section.

The SUV passes bountiful shrubberies and picket fences. Cherry Blossom dust drift its way into the car and Wilford starts to tear up.

"You ok Buddy?"

"Yeah, I'm ok." After all his years of interrogation, Abe knows that that answer was a lie. Yet, he didn't want to push it.

The car comes to a halt and is parked underneath a summer coated oak tree.

"Why'd we stop?"

"I want to show you something."

Abe opens the vintage door and steps out. In front of him, wildflowers and grass sway on the cliffs breeze and small pink flowers grow on its edge. Overhead, a sea glistens with sunlight rays and pink and amber hues dust the sky.

Man, this is enough to make a grown man cry.

The cars driver door can be heard shutting and a shadow walks up behind him. An intimate silence roots itself between the two men.

"You may be wondering why I brought you here."

Abe nods, still looking forward, yet intriguingly listening.

The man sighs, "I used to come here all the time as a young lad. We used to have picnics and dance until dawn. We were so free up here. Away from life, away from Duty, and she was away from Him, that was all that mattered. "

His voice breaks.

"But things change, people change and suddenly, I couldn't do that anymore.

That's why I want you to see it."

Wilford wanders over to their spot and picks up one of the pink flowers sprouting through the grass.

"You may have thought of us as the scum of the Earth Detective. But there are two sides to every story."

The Detective joins the Murderer and puts a hand on his shoulder.

Wilford chuckles. The last time he was here, he was completely and utterly alone. He was like- like a freshly born fawn still trying to find his legs into this world that didn't make sense.

But now...but now things are looking a little brighter.

"If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, just name it."

"You can't do anything really, it's just the way this messed up world works."

The two friends sit down in the grass, making fresh new imprints into the cliff edge, next to two fading ones.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure" "How many people have I killed?"

...

That question lingers in the air for an uncomfortably long time. All that can be heard are the lapping of the waves below them and the occasional swallow talking in the trees.

...

"I don- don't know Wilford," Abe breaks the silence, "I should know, but I-I don't.

...

Abe looks at Wilford, his broken and tear-stained eyes manage to glance back before returning to look out at the sunset.

Abe must do something here. But what? He said himself that nothing can be done so what can he do?

He reminisces on the day they were reunited. So much anger, so much confusion. But Wil was so cheerful, not a care in the world!

Now look at him.

And it was all his fault. If only he didn't get involved...

A second flashes by and Abe does something he should have done the second Will did it.

He hugs Him.

...

"I'm sorry Will."

...

Moments cling on for seems like forever and the embrace is broken. The two tear-stained friends look up.

The afternoon sun has now gone beneath the horizon and is replaced with the all too familiar twilight scenery, which glows softly for miles and miles, each star a lantern that has been entrusted with keeping something special.

"There was another reason why I wanted to bring you here."

Wilford wipes his eyes with his sleeve. "Do you see that star, the big one?"

"Yeah" "That's the Evening Star. That Star is the reason why I have hope. And now I want to share that hope with you. I know we got off the wrong foot but since we're in the same boat now, I think it's time I opened up about where I've actually been."

Abe swallows, this man is truly broken, and he can't do anything about it.

"Thank you for trusting me." "We're not done yet. It's your turn!" "What?" "Make a wish." Cautiously, the Detective slowly stands up from his permanent grassy imprint and walks towards the cliff's edge. The man looks around and sees only patches of shrubbery and wildflowers.

And his newfound friend encouraging him to proceed.

He clasps his hands together and wishes hard. His eyes scrunch together as he becomes a child once more as well. His once tight shoulders have finally become relaxed. After so many years of searching for answers, he doesn't need to worry any more.

A single tear is swept away from the Murderers face as he watches on from the patch of grass. He remembers that feeling and the dream he wished for all those years ago. Yet now, his wish is slowly changing.

Granted, he can't remember who he was but bully does he know what he wants to be. And being here for him, at this very moment, is a wonderful way to start it.

Abe's hands fall to his side and he stares out onto the ever stretching view. His feet are glued to the spot and his mind is only fixated on that one goal. Wilford slowly joins his side, already having a hunch on what he dearly wants.

"What did you wish for?" The Murderer asks.

The Detective huckles, "Now if I told you, it wouldn't come true, would it?"

"Very true my friend."

Little did the men know that their newly found wishes were the same.

"Don't you mean, Best Friend?"

CRACK

The heartwarming moment is abruptly stopped by the sky blasting wide open and millions of sounds exploding across the cliff. The light breeze has rapidly sped up into a storm and is propelling thick gusts upon the two.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL NOW!?" Wilford yells at the hole, completely unfazed.

"YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS!?" Abe yells at his Friend.

"OF COURSE I DO, IT'S TIME FOR WORK."

"WORK!? SINCE WHEN DO YOU HAVE A JOB!?"

"WE ALL HAVE A JOB - WE'RE ACTORS! I'LL EXPLAIN EVERYTHING IF WE DON'T GET SPLIT UP."

"IF WE DONT GET SPLIT UP!? WHERE ARE WE GOING!?" "I HAVE NO IDEA! BUT THAT'S THE FUN OF IT! AFTER THREE, WE WALK IN."

"ARE YOU CRAZY WE'RE GONNA FALL!"

"TRUST ME, WE WON'T."

Wilford grabs Abe's hand and he stares at him. Abe stares back, fear-stricken. Finally, he nods.

"TOGETHER?" "TOGETHER."

"ONE"

"TWO"

"THREE!!!!" The two Actors charge straight over the cliff and into the blinding light.

Wilford finds himself in some kind of leather chair with neon lights surrounding him. A script in one and his prop gun in his other.

No pants on, no wonder he feels too comfortable.

He scans his scene and sees his co-actor, Kathryn, running her lines on the other side of the room.

A chair sits opposite him and behind that, a red T-30 minutes until showtime sign is displayed for him.

Abe, however, isn't needed on set yet. His adventure hasn't begun.

But both of their characters will have to cross at one point or another, it's just a matter of time. Yet for a fact, no one can edit their Friendship; Their Joint Wish.

Because, as they say, Life is a road that you're travelling on, when there's one day here, and the next day gone.

#wilford warfstache #abe the detective #wkm #who killed markiplier #tumblr songs #markiplier #story #william j barnum #markiplier egos

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idiopath-fic-smile · 4 years ago

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more 1950s lesbian amis

continued from this.

in which grantaire makes coffee, and a friend.

“Good morning,” said Chester. “Is that a new dress?”

It was not. Grantaire looked up warily from her sketchpad. She wasn’t good-looking enough for this to be anything but a ploy.

“Do you need something, Chester?” she asked in her sweetest voice, all cotton candy fumes.

“Secretary’s out this morning,” he told her. “That’s why there’s no coffee yet.” And there, it all clicked into place.

Grantaire schooled her face as blank as she could make it; if she was going to reach his conclusion, he’d have to drag her there.

“Thank you but I picked up a cup on my way here,” she said, nodding at her half-empty styrofoam cup. After last night’s disaster at the Musain, she had been unable to even imagine the L ride to the office without a fortifying blast of caffeine.

Chester stared meaningfully; Grantaire stared back, meaningless.

“Grantaire,” said Chester, as if talking to one very stupid, “do you think you could brew us a pot?”

Grantaire blinked. “Does this normally fall to the staff cartoonist when the secretary’s away?”

Chester made a suppressed sound of deep irritation. He spread his hands, appealing. “Listen, I could struggle through trying to make coffee for the office and no doubt poison everyone trying, or you could do it, and add that homey little touch I know all the fellas would appreciate.”

Homey. It was not a word you’d apply to Grantaire’s garden-level one-bedroom, which boasted stained wallpaper and a stove straight out of the Coolidge administration. Homely, maybe. Chester was the one with a home, and a wife, and a fat little baby and the money for a comfortable life.

“It’s only fair to divide the work according to natural aptitude, sweetheart,” Chester was saying, and it was the sweetheart that snapped Grantaire like a rubber band, that word deployed like a pat on the head, like penny candy for a crying baby, like a scrap of baloney to a dog, like it could only ever be the bitterest pity or the cruelest joke in concert with Grantaire’s face, with Grantaire’s entire being.

“‘From each according to their ability, to each according to their needs,’” she murmured in an agreeing tone.

“Now you got it,” Chester started, then frowned.

“Karl Marx, Chester,” said Grantaire. “Keep up, or someone might need to place a call to ol’ Joe.”

Chester’s entire countenance soured. “This is why you should leave it to the men to make the jokes,” he said, “and stick to what you can do--”

Grantaire stood. “I’ll make the coffee,” she said.

“There,” said Chester, “did that need to be such a production?”

The “Golden Ratio,” according to a high school Home Economics course which Grantaire had frankly passed by the skin of her teeth, was one to two tablespoons of coffee for every six ounces of hot water. Grantaire remembered this by virtue of having gotten it wrong many, many times. She was no good with math but the machine took thirty-six ounces of water, which meant the ideal amount of grounds was somewhere between six and twelve tablespoons.

“Stars shining bright above you,” Grantaire hummed under her breath, measuring and dumping coffee grounds into the filter. One, two, three, four, five.

Grantaire had gotten it wrong in high school because nobody in her house drank coffee. She hadn’t discovered the jolting benefits herself until her first year of art school, as the deadlines began to pile and the available time to meet them began to wane.

“Night breezes seem to whisper, I love you,” Grantaire hummed. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

If there had been a way to brave the choppy academic waters of work and criticism without chemical assistance, that path had been invisible to Grantaire. She had tried, she had cried, she had turned down “diet pills” that the other girl in her program swore by only because Grantaire figured her own figure couldn’t afford to be more unflatteringly stick-thin.

“Birds singing in the sycamore trees--” Eleven, twelve. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

The scrutiny and the pressure tempered the freedom of those heady days away from her parents. The expectation that Grantaire was only studying art as a way of killing time, until some charitable man came along to marry her, unless the poor dear simply couldn’t find anyone--she had found a survival strategy of her own, a roughly stitched-together patchwork of sarcasm and wine and more sarcasm, and coffee brewed so thick and strong it barely qualified as liquid.

“Dream a little dream of me.” Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. Grantaire went ahead and dumped in the rest of the bag.

Grantaire was making shaky progress on her first deadline when Douglas stopped by her desk.

“Listen,” he blustered, “is this some kind of a joke?”

“Hm?”

“Your coffee’s undrinkable, it’s--” he faltered as Grantaire took a long swallow of the tarry substance in her mug. It was gritty and bitter, but by the standards of her art school years, only qualified as “medium dark.”

“Doug,” she said calmly, “if it’s too strong for you, you’re free to add plenty of milk and sugar.” She took another sip, meeting his eyes all the while.

He spun on the heel of his expensive dress shoe. As he stormed away, she could hear him mutter, at a passive-aggressive volume designed to be just-barely audible, but audible nonetheless, “No wonder she doesn’t have a man yet, can’t even make coffee right.”

“Grantaire?”

She looked up. The secretary was back from wherever she’d been, apparently.

“Hello,” said Grantaire, hoping that if she kept a friendly enough countenance, the secretary might not notice that Grantaire did not remember her name. “Are you feeling better?”

The secretary smiled, polite. She was young but plain, although not as plain as Grantaire. “Thank you, it was my mother, actually. She’s a little under the weather so I stopped home to bring her some soup and heat it up for her.” Grantaire nodded as if that kind of filial duty was a part of her daily life, too.

“Well, I hope her condition improves soon.” “Thank you, that’s very kind.” An awkward pause began to bloom. Into it, Grantaire blurted, “Sorry if you had the coffee today.” “Oh,” said the secretary, “no, no, I drink tea.” Of course she did, thought Grantaire. She had the look of someone well acquainted with the proper use of a cup and saucer. She lowered her voice slightly. “Douglas informed me all about this morning’s coffee maker adventure.” She lowered her voice a little more. “In some detail.” “Yes, I must have lost count spooning in the grounds,” said Grantaire blandly. “I can’t imagine how it slipped my mind.” “I can,” said the secretary with a crooked smile. Somehow, with both eyes wide open, she gave the impression of winking. “Say, Grantaire. I don’t suppose you could take your lunch break with me? There’s a park across the street, it’s very quiet. Private.” Grantaire nodded. “Good,” said the secretary. That crooked smile again. “My name is Combeferre, by the way.”

“You know, I saw you the other day,” said Combeferre as she neatly removed a packet of celery sticks wrapped in waxed paper from her lunch bag. “Did you.” Grantaire ran through her mental list of places she’d been over the past several days. If she was very, very lucky, maybe Combeferre simply meant that she’d glimpsed Grantaire at the Jewel, picking up some groceries for her tragically empty fridge. Combeferre glanced around the park in a very natural, off-hand way. “At the Musain,” she said. Grantaire’s stomach dropped. She could feel her grip on her turkey sandwich going white-knuckled. “Chester and Murray, such a pair of jokesters,” she said at last. “I suppose I was being hazed last night--” “No, I saw you last Thursday,” said Combeferre quiety. “By yourself.” Grantaire hadn’t been in there for more than forty-five seconds. Had all of Chicago seen? She felt something bubble up inside her. “So,” said Grantaire, trying to match Combeferre’s even, calm voice. “Is this blackmail, then? I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until I’ve gotten my first check, I’m a bit light at the moment.” Combeferre blinked. “Oh dear,” she said, “oh no, you misunderstand me completely. I saw you from inside.” “You were there?” said Grantaire, feeling very dumb for not having picked up on any sign of Sapphism earlier. There was nothing obvious in her manner or dress. The comment about stopping home to see her mother might have suggested she was still living with her parents, and thus unmarried, but plenty of girls did that. Of course, not every woman of a woman-loving bent chose to broadcast it to the world like that short-haired Amazon in the bar restroom. Combeferre’s hairdo and clothes were no doubt chosen for hiding, like Grantaire’s. “Do you have plans this weekend?” Combeferre asked, and Grantaire attempted not to look entirely pole-axed. Was this a pass? Grantaire felt no immediate pull, but, wretchedly, she realized she was lonely enough to consider it. She raised her eyebrows. “You see, I belong to, um, a social organization,” Combeferre continued, unaware. “We could use some new members, and it would be so nice to know someone else at work--” “Is it a book group?” said Grantaire. “A tupperware exchange? A cat appreciation society?” Combeferre smiled. “I do like cats,” she said. “No, we’re. Hm. The Chicago branch of a group of like-minded individuals who find ourselves on a slightly divergent path from the majority of mankind. It’s a very relaxed, informal thing. We’re meeting at the apartment of a friend for spaghetti dinner on Saturday. I can give you the details if you’re interested.” “And you’re all women?” Grantaire said. “We are,” said Combeferre. What the hell. It wasn’t as if there was a line of people waiting to make Saturday night plans with her. “Alright,” said Grantaire. “Wonderful.” Combeferre gave her an address, although Grantaire didn’t know the city well enough for it to mean much without a map. Her eyes briefly scanned the park again. “And I should add that you don’t have to use your real name,” she said. “In fact, I think most of us don’t.” “Some tupperware club you’re running, lady,” said Grantaire, and Combeferre half-laughed. “I was going to leave you a note,” said Combeferre, “on your desk, explaining everything in advance, but then my mother was sick and there wasn’t any time.” “If anyone saw what you wrote,” Grantaire started. “In shorthand, of course. None of the men would understand.” “I can’t read shorthand,” said Grantaire. “I took a course on it but that was about the time I realized my future would need to be elsewhere.” “I was going to be a physician,” said Combeferre dreamily. Grantaire turned to face her. “I had the grades, you know. Biology was my best subject, and I enjoy helping people.” “What happened?” Grantaire asked uneasily.

“Oh,” said Combeferre. “I had a marvelous professor. I’d asked him to write me a recommendation, and he pulled me aside and explained that if I’d have to do twice the work for half the respect, which was of course the truth. I considered nursing, but a life of emptying bedpans and dodging the head doctor’s wandering hands didn’t appeal.” “So instead you empty inboxes and dodge Richard’s wandering hands,” said Grantaire. “You’ll fit right in with my friends,” Combeferre said with another smile. “I’m sorry about what my friend said to you last night. She has an excellent heart and is a key part of our set, but she can be somewhat severe.”

“Do you mean the Hippolyta who cornered me in the powder room?” “Undoubtedly,” said Combeferre. Then, “oh, and definitely don’t call her that!” “Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Grantaire.

#eXr DOB

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misslisterkeepsajournal · 5 years ago

Text

1822 Tuesday 23 July

12 3/4

Good bed, very clean and comfortable, and slept well - Rainy night, and rainy morning - yet no prospect of doing any good by waiting, and off from Bala (the White lion Inn, John Ellis) at 7 25/60 - the upper road to Corwen only ten miles, but have come the lower (14 miles) thro’ the vale of Edeirnion, on account of the scenery - Beautiful vale - the Dee nearly close on our right most of the way - winds most beautifully, flowing gently between its low banks occasionally prettily wooded - what a contrast to the torrents to which we have lately been accustomed to. A beautiful vale - But it rained all the way to the last of the 2 turnpikes about or near 1/2 mile from Corwen, and our view was sadly spoilt by the thickness of the weather and the gig-top up -

Did not know the town or the Inn again - could scarce believe it the same place we stopt at on Sunday-week - (page 44). Left Bala at 7 25/60 and got here in 2 20/60 hour at 9 3/4 - Breakfast immediately -

(Llangollen - King’s head, new hotel - Mrs Davis. 2 3/4 p.m.) Left Corwen at 11 35/60 and got here in 1 1/2 hour (10 miles government-made road, most excellent in spite of having been almost deluged with rain) at 1 5/60 - the vale of Corwen beautiful certainly, but, as I have repeatedly told my aunt would be the case, it now seemed tame after the scenery we have seen - yet the vale of Edeirnion pleased us, even in the rain, and we prefer it to that of Corwen which saw more distinctly - as we had the top down all the way - a drop or 2 of rain just after setting off, and a shower for about the 3rd mile from Llangollen - heavy rain just after we got in -

Mrs Davis received us at the door, and came into our room to answer our inquiries after Lady Eleanor Butler - Mrs Davis was called up at one last night, and they thought her ladyship would have died - she was however rather better this morning - the physician does not seem to apprehend danger, but Mrs D- is alarmed, and spoke of it in tears - Miss Ponsonby too, is alarmed and ill herself on this account - pain in her side - “She is a lady” said Mrs D- “of very strong ideas; but this would grieve her too” - Mrs D- has only known them 13 or 14 years during which time she has lived at this house but she has always seen them “so attached so amiable together” - no two people ever lived more happily - they like all the people about them are beloved by all, and do a great deal of good - Lady Eleanor had the remains of beauty - Miss Ponsonby was a very fine woman - Lady Eleanor Butler about 80 - Miss P- 10 or 12 years younger - the damp this bad account cast upon my spirits I cannot describe - I am interested about these 2 ladies very much - there is something in their story, and in all I have heard about them here that added to other circumstances makes a deep impression -

Sat musing on the sopha scarce wotting what to do - irresolute and moody - thinking of Pi [Mariana] low about her I cannot shake off the impression of what she said at Chester about delicacy in calculation delta’s [Charles’] life Mr Powis etc I know not how it is I am shockingly low altogether - Mrs Davis being going to inquire after lady Eleanor Butler my aunt and I walked with her to wait for her giving an answer to our inquiries - the physician there - strolled about for 10 minutes, and not being gone and it threatening to rain, returned and only just got in before a tremendously heavy shower - then sat down and wrote the above of today - I feel better for this writing - In fact, come what may, writing my journal - thus as it were throwing my mind on paper, always does me good -

Mrs Davis just returned - brought a good account of her ladyship and a message of thanks for our inquiries from Miss Ponsonby, who will be glad to see me this evening to thank me in person - shall about go 6 1/2 or 7, just after dinner - this is more than I expected I wonder how I work my way and what she will think of me Mrs Davis wishes me to give all the comfort all I can and not to mention that I know of her having been called up last night -

(9 p.m.) Dinner at 6 before dinner about two hours upstairs washing cutting my toe nails putting clean things etc At 7 went to Plasnewydd and got back at 8 - just an hour away and surely the walking there and back did not take me more than 20 minutes - shewn into the room next the library the breakfast room, waited a minute or 2, and then came Miss P- a large woman so as to waddle in walking but not taller than myself - in a blue shortish waist-cloth habit, the jacket unbuttoned shewing a plain plaited frilled habit shirt - a thick white cravat, rather loosely put on - hair powdered, parted, I think, down the middle in front, cut a moderate length all round and hanging straight, tolerably thick - the remains of a very fine face - coarseish white cotton stockings - ladies’ slipper shoes cut lower down, the foot hanging a little over - altogether a very odd figure - yet she had no sooner entered into conversation than I forgot all this and my attention was wholey taken by her manners and conversation - the former perfectly easy, peculiarly attentive and well bred, and bespeaking a person accustomed to a great deal of good society - mild and gentle, certainly not masculine, and yet there was a je-ne-sais-quoi striking - her conversation shewing a personal acquaintance with most of the literary characters of the day and their works - She seemed sanguine about lady Eleanor’s recovery - poor soul! my heart ached to think how small the chance - She told me her ladyship had undergone an operation 3 times - the sight of one eye restored - couching by absorption - I said I believed it was neither a painful nor dangerous operation - she seemed to think it both the one and the other - mentioned the beauties of the place - the books I had noticed in their rustic library - she said lady E- read French, Spanish, and Italian - had great knowledge of ancient manners and customs, understood the obsolete manners and phrases of Tasso remarkably well - had written elucidatory notes on the first 2 (or 4 # I think) books of Tasso, but had given away the only copy she ever had - contrived to ask if they are classical - “no!” (said she) thank god from Latin and Greek I’m free” - speaking of translations she mentioned La Cerda’s (I think it was) as the best according to some + bishop friend of hers of Virgil, and Cary’s as being most excellent of Tasso, literal and excellent for a beginner, and which she should recommend to any one wanting assistance - She somehow mentioned Lucretioius but it was “a bad book and she was afraid of reading it” - I asked why - He was a deistical writer - I mentioned Dr John Mason Good’s translation adding that I believed he (Dr Good) was not a high church man - “no! She knew he was heterodox” - I observed that she might think all the classics objectionable - “yes! they wanted pruning; but the Delphin Editions were very good - as people got older, she said, they are more particular - she was almost afraid of reading Cain, tho’ lord B- [Byron?] had been very good in sending them several of his works” - I asked if she had read Don Juan - she was ashamed to say she had read the 1st canto - She said I had named Mr Bankes - and asked if it was Mr Bankes Cleaver - I thought not, did not know him; but he was the most particular friend of a friend of mine - it was Mr Bankes the great Grecian, said to be now the best in England since Mr Porson’s death - She did not think he had ever been there did not know, did not remember him - she asked if I would walk out - shewed me their kitchen garden - walked round the shrubbery with me - She said she owned to their having been 42 years there - they landed first in South Wales but it did not answer the accounts they had heard of it - they then travelled in North Wales, and, taken with the beauty of this place, took the cottage for 31 years - but it was a false lease, and they had had a great deal of trouble and expense it was only 4 years since they had bought the place - Dared say I had a much nicer place at home - mentioned its situation, great age, long time in the family etc She wished to know where to find an account of it - Said it had been their humble endeavour to make their place as old as they could - Spoke like a woman of the world about my liking the place where I was born, etc said I was not born there - my father was a younger brother - but that I had the expectation of succeeding my uncle - “Ah! then”, said she, “you will soon be the master and there will be an end of romance” - Never! never! said I - I envied their place and the happiness they had had there - dared say they had never quarrelled - “no! they had never had a quarrel - little difference of opinion sometimes - life could not go on without it - but only about the planting of a tree - and, when they differed in opinion, they took care to let no one see it” - At parting, she shook hands with me and gave me a rose; I said I should keep it for the sake of the place where it grew. She had before said she should be happy to introduce me sometime to Lady Eleanor - I had given my aunt’s compliments and inquiries said she would have called with me but feared to intrude, and was not quite well this evening - she (Miss P-) gave me a sprig of geranium for my aunt with her compliments and thanks for her inquiries - Lady E- was asleep while I was there - Miss P- had been reading to her “Adam Blair” the little book recommended to me by M- at Chester - I had told Miss P- I had first seen an account of them in La Belle Assemblie a dozen years ago, and had longed to see the place ever since - She said some people had been very impertinent, particularly Dr Mavor who had in some way displeased (laughed at or something) their old housekeeper to whose memory they have erected a monument in the church yard - and it seems the ladies have a particular objection to Dr M- but Miss P- appears to have lost her teeth, and occasionally mumbles a little, that, as a stranger, I did not always perhaps quite understand her - It seems 2 of the Cromptons and their brother (of Esholt) were lately sketching the place - the ladies sent them chairs - went out to speak to them (for they were retiring fearing they had offended the ladies) formed an acquaintance and wanting to know something aobut the Derwentwater family which the C-s could get to know, there has been a correspondence - Miss P- said she had not answered their last letter, but meant to do it - Lady E and Miss P- seem great pedigree-people antiquaries, topographers, etc -

The Ladies of Llangollen: Miss Ponsonby on the left, Lady Eleanor Butler on the right - Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons

I came away much pleased with Miss P- and sincerely hoping Lady E- will recover; to enjoy a few years more in this world - I know not how it is, I felt low after coming away - a thousand moody reflections occurred; but again writing has done me good - went to and returned from Plasnewydd in a gleam - showery afternoon and evening - I mean to dry and keep the rose Miss P- gave me - ‘Tis now 10 1/4 - sat talking to my aunt came upstairs at 11 10/60 forty minutes siding my things in the imperial - used the syringe with cold water three times today great deal of discharge -

Reference: SH:7/ML/E/6/0031

#anne lister #anne lister code breaker #gentleman jack #1822 #the annes go to Wales #the ladies of llangollen

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mattness · 5 years ago

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Space Dementia

Another chapter is here, my dear! Again I warn you about errors and mistakes. I'm a lazy translator, forgive me hahah)) OTP: Jennifer Wright/Robert Grey (Pennywise, It)

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Chapter X.

On the threshold of the kitchen was a clown, somehow leaning on the door jamb. He was wearing a gray-and-white puffy dress with orange buttons, but it wasn't as conspicuous as the blood and dirt that stained the whole suit. Red hair stuck out in different directions, and on top of the bald spots could be seen. There was also blood on the snow white face with the red nose and stripes continuing the smile. It dripped long black streams from his mouth directly on the floor, and crazy shining orange eyes looked somewhere through Jen. His left eye was squinting, and that made it hard to see where the clown was looking.

Jen was afraid to move, hearing the unexpected visitor breathing heavily and chuckling softly. Something inside told her that this madman had come to kill her, but somehow he hadn't attacked her yet. Apparently, forces were not.

"Who are you?" Jennifer asked, holding the bat firmly in place. She cursed herself inwardly, realizing how foolish her question had just sounded. "Get out of my house!" "B-ba..." suddenly began to utter clown, making a hesitant step forward, "b-baby, don't you r-r-recognize m-me?" Wright frowned, not understanding. "No! Get out!" "J-Jenni, baby, it's time to f-float", he said, and stepped up again. Jennifer opened her mouth in surprise, not believing her own eyes. Looking more closely, she was able to see behind the stage make-up Robert Grey's face. He was bleeding and completely covered in mud, barely able to stand and was ready to fall to the floor. With his last strength Grey smiled at her and fell with a crash. "Robert?!" stunned brunette cried out, immediately dropping the bat to the side and sat down next to him. She never expected that Grey come to her house. Yes, Jennifer was counting on them to make up after what happened, but…She didn't know it would come out this way. She didn't know he'd show up at her house in a stupid clown suit and covered in blood. "What the hell happened?" whispered to herself under a nose Jen, looking like a black puddle under him slowly increases in size. * * * Two weeks ago Jen went into the house, changing her sneakers for slippers. The quiet noise of the TV made the girl smile and she crept into the living room. Chester was sitting in a chair near the floor lamp, his glasses slightly lowered from the bridge of his nose, reading a book. Noticing daughter, he smiled affably. The book was immediately put aside on the bedside table. "I see, the working day was a success", Chester grinned, his arms crossed over chest. Jennifer smiled sheepishly. "Who is he, Jen?" the first thing her father asked. "You saw us?" "Well, it's hard not to notice standing about ten minutes under the windows of Aston Martin", laughed the man, slowly rising from chair. Jennifer, still embarrassed, felt her cheeks burn treacherously. Father took a step toward the exit from the living room. Suddenly time slowed down. The room swam before his eyes. A sharp pain pierced his entire body. His heart shrank to the smallest size, abruptly stopping the blood. The air in the living room was not enough. His legs buckled, and Chester, clutching heart, fell to the floor. "Dad!" Jennifer cried out in horror, jumping up to him at once. "Daddy!" Tears rained down from her eyes, confusing. The girl tried to get the father in feeling, but nothing worked. He stopped breathing. Jen grabbed the phone and with trembling fingers somehow typed the emergency number. She prayed that the ambulance would come as soon as possible. She was afraid that her worst fears would come true for the first time. The ambulance, fortunately, was not long in coming. Paramedics immediately determined the reason for the sudden stop of the heart of Chester Wright. They tried to make the organ work again with the help of defibrillators. Jen wanted to do something, but she couldn't. Tears continued to run down her cheeks, and mind did not want to accept what had just happened. She watched as the paramedics in white coats bustled around, shifted her father to a portable stretcher and immediately drove away in the car. "Miss Wright, I ask you to control yourself", the chief paramedic of the ambulance said firmly. "You should come with us." The girl nodded and, closing the front door of the house, got into the car. The doctors were still trying to bring Chester back to life. With another discharge of the defibrillator, a weak pulse finally appeared. Jen breathed out a sigh of relief. She was immensely grateful to the paramedics, who continued to fuss, trying to save the life of her dearest person. The car drove quickly through the empty roads of Derry straight to the Central hospital. Loud siren attracted the attention of long-sleeping residents. Jen held on tightly to the hand of the dad, trying to calm down and soothe her tantrum. Pain overwhelmed her, making shudder she with sobs. Why is this happening now? Why? Why did it happen to her father? Why not with someone else? Why? The girl could not understand and find answers to these questions. Everything was happening in slow motion. The car stopped, and the paramedics, along with the stretcher on which Chester was lying, ran out of it, heading for the hospital. Jen somehow got to her feet and hurried after them. Before her eyes stood the familiar white corridors with numerous doors. The muffled working noise seemed to be transported straight from a recent dream into reality. The nurse sitting in the reception immediately stopped the brunette and asked her to explain everything. Jennifer found a little strength and told how her father suddenly had a heart attack. Having registered a new patient, the nurse pointed to the girl on the place for visitors. Jen nodded and walked slowly to the bench. Before her eyes all floated, and the tears flowed with renewed vigor. She clutched her head, silently praying to God to save her father's life. Now for Jennifer this was the most the main. * * * ...One hour followed another. Time dragged on painfully long, and expectation with uncertainty drove mad. The girl nervously bit her lip, not noticing how the hospital gradually becomes quiet. In the middle of the night there was no one in the corridors. At the other end of the hospital, separated by a door that led to the Department with the wards for patients, turned out the light. Jen peered into the depths, suddenly feeling an unpleasant déjà vu. She had been to Derry's hospital before, not in reality, but in her own dreams. In terrible nightmares. Now was happening all the same, that and in one of past dreams. Wright realized that the man she was so worried about was her father. And if you believe in prophecy, at the end of the corridor should appear… Jen frowned when she noticed Robert, who had somehow appeared here. All the tender feelings that she felt for him, immediately withdrew into the background, replaced by the very real hatred. The girl wanted to pounce on him and scratch that perfect sugary face in the blood. He is the cause of all disasters. Wherever he goes, that's where people died. He kills them. He and only he! Now, even the absence of any precise evidence on this occasion she did not care. Jennifer was sure it was Robert Grey's fault. "Ms. Wright", gently called her the head doctor of the hospital, holding a clipboard. The girl was distracted from Grey, who was still talking to the nurse at the front desk. She rose from seat in front of the man in the white robe, wiping the tears from her flushed and swollen face. "How is my father, doctor?" as calmly as possible asked Jennifer, softly clearing his throat. "We did everything we could", the doctor assured her, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "He'll live. But now he needs peace." "Good", the girl nodded. "You should rest, too, Miss", he remarked, frowning. "You can't improve the situation by sitting here until morning. I think Mr. Wright would agree with me. Go home and get some sleep. Come tomorrow at visiting hours." Jen shook her head, crying again. "I can't leave him alone!" "Miss..." "I can't!" the girl's voice broke into a scream. "Jenni", came Robert's gentle voice, whose hands fell gently on her shoulders. The brunette immediately shuddered, turning sharply to him. Grey stared at her, not understanding. He wanted to make it better, but it caused a completely opposite reaction. Not what Robert expected. Now the man foresaw Jennifer's hysteria on the grounds of possible loss of a loved one. Grey found her despair mixed with hatred and pain. They were disgustingly bitter because of the tears, so he didn't even try to absorb them. "Get outta here!" Jen yelled furiously, pounding him with her fists. "It's all because of you! You put him in the hospital! This is all your fault!" Robert gritted his teeth, catching the girl's hands and gripping her wrists tightly. She tried to break away, but the man squeezed her skin harder, causing her pain. The girl hissed, still struggling. "Let me go right now!" "Mister, calm the girl down and get her out of here", the chief physician said sternly, looking at Grey's calm face. "She breaks discipline and curfews hospital." He nodded in response and dragged Jennifer along with him. The brunette continued to resist and scream, attracting the attention of all the nurses and doctors. Everyone looked at her like she was mad. The doctors had already prepared a couple of syringes with sedatives and sleeping pills. Grey felt them about to lose control, so he tried to speed up his pace. Once on the street, he pushed the girl away from him. Jen somehow stood on her feet, brushing her wet hair from face and turning to Grey. "What kind of circus are you doing here?" Robert asked coldly, reducing the distance between them. "Do you want to be tied up and sent to a mental hospital?" "What business is it of yours?" Jennifer hissed angrily. "You'll get rid of me! I got you. It's you! You kill those missing people, cover your tracks carefully, and…" "What the fuck are you talking about, Jennifer?! Listen to yourself!" Robert studiously portrayed puzzling a man, not understanding, as she so quickly saw through his. Today everything was fine... She dreamed of passionate kisses and making love with him, and now she almost hated him for something that he really wasn't involved. Yes, Robert felt Chester Wright's body weaken, but he really didn't do anything. It was a natural and irreversible human process to which Robert had nothing to do. Killing with his mind, and even at a distance, he certainly did not know how. At least that wasn't on his list of alien abilities. Grey knew exactly what he could do with a human. And, by the way, the death of Chester Wright was not to his advantage. "What am I talking?!" the brunette was indignant, wiping her tears again. The blue eyes, filled with hatred and pain, turned red. "How do you explain to me that wherever you go, people disappear right away, huh? Or your extraordinary ability to materialize where I am, even though I don't remember ever telling you where I am!" Robert irritably rolled her eyes, pulling out of his pocket a cigarette and preparing to smoke. The girl immediately went angry and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, throwing it aside. He sighed heavily, pursing his lips. "So what? Nothing to say? Or was everything I had assumed to be true?" "I'm waiting for you to calm down", the man snorted with displeasure, calmly taking out another cigarette. Jennifer with the force pushed Robert from herself. He stepped back a few steps, frowning. In the green eyes immediately appeared a reddish spots, but the man cleverly held back his anger. He knew very well that tomorrow Jen would regret it and come running to him, begging for forgiveness. Yes, he was one hundred percent sure of that. So Grey didn't say a word about her correct assumptions. It's too early for him to reveal his true nature to her. Jennifer's mind hasn't completely gone mad yet. Need to lay the groundwork for the new information she's about to receive. "Get out! Get the hell out of here!" in despair, cried the girl, making her voice began to tremble treacherously. "I don't want to see you again! Get the fuck out of my life, you're bitch!" Only grinning, Grey shrugged and calmly turned on the heels of his patent leather boots, headed for his expensive car. He felt the surprised and discouraged look of Jennifer, who did not understand. Apparently, she thought he would continue to insist on his own, or at least try to explain. However, something went wrong. Wright watched in complete stupor as he got into the car and started the engine. She grabbed her head, settling on the cold asphalt and succumbing to a new attack of hysteria. What had she done?! Jen sobbed loudly, choking on her own tears. The girl imagined how pathetic and pitiful looked, but nothing could help it. Pain bound every movement and the realization of loss didn't give rest. Jennifer leaned forward, pressing her forehead to the road and praying to God that she would die right here and now. "I'm such a fool..." murmured to herself the girl, crying about ten minutes leaning on the road. The dark blue Aston Martin had long since left, making it clear to Jen that she had lost her last hope of solace on that dreadful night. She had lost a man who trusted her and was probably ready to love her. Jennifer swore again and somehow got to her feet. She really need to follow the doctor's advice and relax. Tomorrow morning everything will be fine. She'll see her father again, who will be glad to see her. Everything will be fine as usual. However, this "fine" will no longer with Robert. * * * Having bought a bunch of oranges in the morning, she went to the hospital the next day. She had to take a taxi because she couldn't pedal the bike. The night hysteria had done a terrible thing to Jen: first, her face was swollen, and the blood vessels in her eyes were broken; secondly, the whole body was cramped with unpleasant cramps with pain; well, and thirdly, she sent to hell the only person who had been paying special attention to her lately. Never before has such a broken Jennifer felt. She didn't know what to do, and now she was hoping for support from her father. Although yesterday he got the most. Throwing her snow-white robe over her shoulders, Wright quietly opened the door to the room where her father lay. She carefully looked into the room and immediately got a tired, but loving gaze of brown eyes. "Jenni", Chester called faintly, with a faint smile. "How are you, sunshine?" "Terrible, daddy", Jen breathed, sitting down in a chair by the hospital bed. "I thought I lost you yesterday." "I'm all right. I'll lie here for a couple of weeks and be as good as new", Mr. Wright assured her, and gently stroked her black hair. "You shouldn't have worried so much. All eyes are red, Jennifer." She barely held back her tears, painfully biting her lower lip. "Don't cry, baby girl", quietly chuckled the man, when Jen buried her face in the blanket. He continued to stroke her head reassuringly. "Everything will be okay, Jennifer. Better tell me about your boyfriend. Because I kind of ruined your night." The girl gave a snort, turning her head and looking at father. Even though he was chained to a hospital bed, he kept joking and behaving as if nothing had happened. Good mood Chester could convince her that everything really will be fine. "He's gone, dad", Jennifer admitted honestly, and a single tear rolled down her cheek, falling straight onto the blanket. "How is that? You were almost happy yesterday, and today he left you?" Mr. Wright was perplexed. "I chased him away. He came to the hospital yesterday to calm me down, and I got mad and yelled at him", she said with a sob, again burying her nose in the blanket. "Oh, Lord, what have I done, dad?" Chester sighed, not knowing what to say. Now she reminded him of Mary, who was sometimes just as quick-tempered and could do all sorts of stupid things. Then Wheeler regretted it very much and always begged for forgiveness, and he always forgave. Mr. Wright hoped that in time Jen's occasional temper would come to naught, and that would allow her to be happy. He sincerely wished his daughter happiness. "Do you think he likes you?" Chester asked cautiously, feeling Jenni's fingers squeeze his hand. "It seemed to me that, yes", sadly replied the girl, painfully biting lower lip. "If the guy is not a fool, I think he will show up after some time", smiled her father, and the girl herself could barely contain a smile. She always wondered how her father had managed to give her confidence in the future with a few insignificant phrases. No one closer and kinder dad on this planet for her not was. The incident and the disease is now forced to appreciate and love him more. Jen began to cherish every minute she spent with her father. * * * Present days Jennifer somehow dragged Robert to the second floor of the house to her room and laid him on the bed. She checked to see if he had a pulse, but it didn't work. Grey's icy hands made the girl terrified. Something was wrong with him. He wasn't breathing, but she refused to touch him. Abundantly flowing down from a clown's costume blood stained all around. Jen tried to find the wound by unbuttoning his coat, but found nothing. There was not a scratch on his snow-white skin, which made her frown. Suddenly Robert began to cough, causing the girl to flinch. Black liquid, little resembling blood, filled his mouth and flowed plentiful masses. Jennifer helped him to spit, and Grey immediately came to himself, breathing noisily in the air. Wild orange eyes, he looked at Wright, who didn't understand. "Robert, are you all right?" she doubted it very much. Without answering, he tried to get up and made his way to the door of the room. Grey, as if drunk, staggered from side to side, over and over again spitting incomprehensible black liquid. "Kill... Kill!" somehow Jennifer were able to decipher his unintelligible mumbling. He growled like an animal, looking for the cause of all his troubles. Turning, Grey bared his black-stained fangs and decided to pounce on the frightened girl, but the strength of it was not. Wright confidently came when he reached for her hand. Suddenly on the bare chest of Robert, the girl noticed the bullet hole. "Jesus, have you been shot?" horrified Jen, looking into his eyes, orange iris which is very red around the edges. The clown nodded, moaning faintly and giggling at the same time. Blood dripped from his mouth, and a hand tightened into a white glove that was completely covered in dirt, forcefully squeezed the girl's cheeks. He made her look at him, causing the brunette to flinch. An unpleasant chill ran down Jennifer's back, as she noticed Robert's sharp fangs filling his mouth. She still hoped it was all some nightmare she was having. "Help me, sweetie", Grey whispered softly. "Get... G-get out this stuff of me..." Jen quietly squeaked, feeling like a stronger man's hand squeezed her jaw. "Help me... And I won't kill you, Jennifer", he smiled softly and at the same time rapaciously, and the blood began to run down his chin again. "Okay", with fear to squeeze out the girl and made to lie clown on her bed. With every minute his breathing became heavier. The devil's red eyes stared up at the ceiling, and Robert waited patiently for Jen to get over it. The girl removed the obstructing fabric and touched the hands of a bullet wound. Fortunately, the bullet entered shallow, and it could be removed without difficulty. Noticing the scissors on the bedside table, Wright immediately grabbed them and began to pull the bullet out of the profusely bleeding hole. As soon as Jen had done what was necessary, she stared in surprise at the tiny creature that had nearly killed Grey. The bullet was silver in the light of the room lamps. Robert exhaled a sigh of relief and watched calmly as the wounds on his body slowly began to heal. The girl once again experienced a real shock, watching him. Putting the bullet on the nightstand with the scissors, she decided to clean the house, because half of the corridor, the whole kitchen, her room and the stairs were stained with blood suddenly appeared Robert. Jen quietly got up from bed, thinking that Grey needs to rest. He closed his eyes and seemed to have fallen asleep. The next moment, however, Robert grabbed the brunette by the arm and she stared at him in surprise. "Thank you", the clown said with his lips. The girl smiled wanly in response and hurried away from the room, trying in her head to understand what happened. * * * Robert more or less awake until the early hours slept in the room Jen. She has quietly got ready and left for work. Now she had to perform not only the duties of the packer of goods, but also the cashier. Riley, who loved to show up before anyone else, is missing. The authorities did not say a word about it, and Jen quietly continued to work together with the other colleagues. Two weeks had passed since Chester had been hospitalized with a heart attack, and his rehabilitation was a success. He felt fine and was on the mend. Jennifer hoped that he would be released from the hospital any day now, and she would look after him at home. Trying to drive away the bad thoughts, she tried to fix everything that destroyed that ill-fated evening. Hatred for Robert had long since gone, and the accusations against him now seemed so baseless. God, what's gotten into her? She was so ashamed of herself! She was especially ashamed after he showed up at her house last night in a stupid clown suit. Jennifer desperately wanted to know what had happened to him, and who had shot him with bullets of pure silver. However, Grey's condition left much to be desired, so she left him alone, deciding to postpone all inquiries for later. "Again scribbling to your beloved?" Emily, the store's sales assistant, asked. A dark-skinned woman straightened her lush hair and stood next to her, leaning on the counter. "Yeah, he misunderstood me", Jen put the phone tried to lie, to be left alone. "If he really care, he would have answered at once", she smiled, making Wright dissatisfied rolled his eyes. "It's more complicated than you think." She squeezed the bridge of her nose with two fingers and sighed again. Jennifer always knew that in the relationship's question her understands only Tyra. However, her friend now could not listen to her stupid problems, she went to Los Angeles for work and was completely absorbed by this, so to call each other has become problematic, not only because of different time zones. "Well, I don't know", Emily shrugged and, noticing the new customer on the doorstep, turned her attention away from Jen. "I would on your place already three hundred times get out him of my brain." Wright snorted and looked at the man who had come to choose clothes. The girl looked more closely at him, suddenly recognizing him as Roy Gordon. She was so embarrassed that she was ready to hide in the warehouse, just not to talk to a former classmate. And how the wind that womanizer has brought in Derry? What is he even doing here? Why the hell did he decide to go to this particular store? Jennifer mentally cursed everything in the world for such an unexpected "gift" of fate. Luckily for the girl, he didn't look at the shopkeepers much. The man enthusiastically chose his pants, and Jane looked at the computer monitor, which were displayed images from CCTV cameras. Roy carefully chosen, as if trying not to make a mistake in the choice and price. He looked at the tag of one of pants and, apparently, checking the size and price, confidently went to the cashier. "Hell, even did not try on, asshole", hissed angrily Jennifer under her breath, trying to keep a straight face. Roy went to the cash register and put the blue pants on the table. The girl immediately took off the magnets and, without looking up at the buyer, punched the price tag. "Hey, I think I know you", Gordon said suddenly, putting the money out of his wallet. "You're Jennifer, right? We went to university together, remember?" "Hi", Jen smiled tightly, finally looking up at him and handing him the change. "I remember." "What wind brought you here?" Roy asked, leaning on the table and deciding to talk to her. He carefully assessed the whole look of the girl, mentally noticing that she is very good. There was no reason Gordon didn't pay attention to her on campus. "Yeah... Work. Temporarily", without much interest, replied the girl, continuing to mentally curse all around. "What are you doing here?" "I'm passing. I just dropped by for one day, then I will go to Pennsylvania", the man admitted with a radiant smile. "Can we go out tonight?" Jennifer arched her right eyebrow questioningly, once again marveling at the frivolity of the man she had once been crazy about. Now she with joy been mulling, that this time finally passed. However, not everything changes over time, especially people. Jen figured out in head a thousand options on how to dump Gordon, but she did not say a word as the door to the shop opened again. Roy and Jennifer turned their attention to the new visitor. She felt like heart skipped a beat and her legs were like cotton treacherously. Her cheeks flushed red, and a pleasant warmth filled her body. Robert stood in the doorway, his hands in his pants pockets. Green eyes quickly found Jen, and on chubby lips instantly emerged smile. Grey looked as if he'd left a beauty salon and as if he hadn't been dying hours before. "So... What about dinner?" Roy asked, for whom the new visitor was nothing. But not for Jennifer, who suddenly became not herself. "Emily, cover for me at the register!" girl shouted the colleague, completely ignoring Gordon and heading to the man that so patiently waited for her. Colleague Jen immediately appeared in her place and smiled to Roy. He was completely frustrated, not understanding why he was ignored. "Hey, you didn't answer my question!" "Leave her be, lad", burst out laughing Emily, watched Jen and Robert. Meanwhile, Robert Grey calmly walked Jennifer out of the store. The girl nervously bit her lip, thinking where to start the conversation. Robert studied her carefully, knowing that he had arrived at the right time. The man literally saved her from the annoying guy from the past, who suddenly decided to get a date. Inside Robert something unpleasant clenched, he had to see this scene. No one had the right to attempt his potential victim, except himself, of course (by the way, yesterday's attempt was unsuccessful). However, Grey knew who to eat for dinner tonight. "Rob, tell me, please", Jennifer hesitantly began, clearing his throat, "what happened yesterday?" "What are you talking about?" the man asked in surprise, shrugging. Of course, he knew exactly what Wright meant. Why did Pennywise come to her in the middle of the night covered in blood, on the verge of life and death? He genuinely wanted to get rid of it, thought, that tickles. However, the plan failed miserably. Pennywise made a mistake for the first time, and paid for it. It thought it's die if Jennifer hadn't helped. Luckily, she managed to get the silver bullet that was eating away at him. However, he had to spoil half of the girl's house, but this he did not spare. Jennifer not understanding him. "You came to me yesterday in a stupid clown suit, bleeding to death", she said nervously. "Asking for help. I took a bullet out of you, and you passed out." "Did you miss me so much that you made it all up?" Grey grinned, moving to Jen on the step. "B-but the blood... I was up all night scrubbing the whole house from the black blood", embarrassed brunette finally starting to get confused in everything. "You were dying…" The man chuckled, hugging Wright's shoulders and noticing the familiar confusion in her blue eyes. She tried to understand, where truth and lies, where reality, and where fiction. The girl sighed heavily, glancing at Robert. He was perfectly fine and seemed to feel just fine. Maybe she really was imagining it? Or was it really a terrible nightmare? But it was so real... Jen was afraid of losing her mind over everything that was going on in her life. "I'm sorry, Jenni, for leaving you at such a difficult time", Rob began suddenly, leaning over her face. "I'm not going anywhere else, baby." She smiled sadly at Grey, hoping very much that she would. She clung to him, closing her eyes and feeling his hands gently stroking her back.

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loverosier · 6 years ago

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Hi my name is Felix Enoby Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way Rosier and I have soft, brown hair parted in the middle and chestnut brown eyes like a beautiful autumn day. I’m not related to Chester Davies but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a pureblood but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I’m also a wizard, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I'm in the seventh year (I'm seventeen). I'm a prefect (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly green and black. I love Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and green eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. MC and their friends stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

#hogwarts mystery #felix rosier #i have no idea if this has been done before #hphm

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tpwkwrites · 6 years ago

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Never Sometimes Always - Chapter One

Violet remembers the day she first saw him.

He came into the shop when she was with another customer – Mr. Dively. He was currently telling her all of his plans for his first trip to Disney World. He says the trip is for his daughters but Mr. Dively’s animated voice and flamboyant gestures say otherwise. There was a whole schedule made and he made sure that Violet knew the entire thing, insisting that if anything were to happen in their little village of Cheshire West and Chester, she would know what he’s doing at that moment before she rang him. She’s not sure what he’s expecting to happen, but she listens anyway.

He walks in just as the photos of matching outfits came out. (“Just in case one of the little ones got lost, you know?”).

He’s with Anne, a regular at the shop. He was wearing casual trackie bottoms. They were blue with a red stripe down both sides of the leg. They probably still cost more than all of Violet’s textbooks combined. He has on a plain white t-shirt, something she can likely afford, and some trainers with tall grey socks. There were shades perched high on his head, hidden by the abundance of curls that adorned his head and an annoyed expression on his face. She hopes he’s nicer than he looks at the moment.

Violet shoots Anne a quick smile, just as a bit of acknowledgment before she returned back to Mr. Dively. Violet then assumes that Anne is his mother. It makes the most sense.

“- have my number just in case you should ever need it.” He grabs his camera, universal stick and prints quickly before shuffling out of the way for the next in line. “See you in a week, Violet. Try not to miss me too much.”

Violet chuckles to herself, waving towards Mr. Dively even though he wasn’t looking back.

Next in line was Anne. She came to the till with a large smile on her face, nearly resembling a child whose left lessons early. Anne’s son, on the other hand, continued to stay barricaded by his private security detail. He looked exhausted. If the purple rings under his eyes were anything to go by Violet would reckon it was a couple of days since he’d gotten proper sleep.

“Violet, love, alright?”

Violet gives Anne her best smile as she watched to older woman dig around in her bag for something, presumably her universal hard drive.

“Not quite peachy keen, but I’ll get by.” Unlike other customers, Anne gets the full scoop of Violet’s life. Violet finds some type of comfort in Anne and she reckons Anne finds some in her too.

“Oh no, dear. Why’s that?” At this point, she’s still digging. This is what usually happens. It’s always ‘in the bottom of my purse somewhere’ or ‘hiding from me.’ Violet didn’t mind. It keeps the conversation going, and in a camera and printing shop with only three employees, Violet very much so loves outside conversations.

“Mums been buggering my head in since I came home from University. She pops into my old room at least ten times per hour just to see if I’m still there.”

“Your mother has missed you! Her only child has moved four hours away and hardly ever visits. I reckon she has the right to bugger you.”

Violet just laughs lightly at Anne’s response. Her mother and Anne have never met but she can tell they would get along easily.

Violet then looks at Harry and he’s looking around the shop with a scowl. She wonders what for. Anne must have noticed the silence because she looks up for a second before tucking back into her purse and saying, “Violet, I nearly forgot – my son, Harry. Harry, my dear friend, Violet.”

Harry’s head pops up at his name and Violet is stunned. Of course, she’s seen photos. Media photos and personal photos on Anne’s mobile. But nothing really prepared her for how handsome Harry is now that he’s right in front of her. He takes a step forward, already looking uninterested in the conversation, before shaking Violet’s hand. She glanced at the security detail and he looked around the shop, a bit embarrassed, but he didn’t say anything.

“Would you like me to lock the doors?”

Anne looks at Harry and then back at Violet. “Oh, love, you don’t have to do that.”

When she responds, it’s towards Harry. She can feel her cheeks go a bit hot, but she decides to ignore it. “It’s alright. It’s nearly a quarter to six. We’ll be closing soon.”

Then, he finally speaks. He’s got a smooth voice. It reminds her of warm honey and peanut butter sandwiches in the back garden on a sunny summers day with her dad's famous cup of breakfast tea.

“If you insist, that would be lovely.”

She nods with a smile. The keys are in her hand instantly and she tracks from behind the counter quickly. The security detail is now following her, presumably leaving. When the shop had been locked, and the bulky men had exited, there was almost a breath of fresh air in the atmosphere.

“Ah-ha!” Anne exclaims, holding the stick in the air.

Violet laughs and grabs the stick. “Reckon you should sellotape it to your forehead; you’ll never lose it then.”

The three of them laugh, and then Harry says, “then add your mobile up there – know how you are mum.”

Anne rolls her eyes and turns back to Violet. “It’s the folder that says Jamaica 2017.”

“Oh, lovely. You went on holiday?”

“Oh no. I wish! Harry’s just gotten back from Jamaica. Written a whole album, he has.”

Harry looks at his mom a bit panicked. “Mum, you can just tell people that.”

Anne chuckles as the images print. Violet already knows Anne’s usual size for all types of prints. Portraits are a little larger than landscape and landscapes are a little larger than items. “Violet is not people Harry. And to be frank, Violet knows quite a lot about you. Maybe even things you don’t know.”

Violet blushes at this comment but keeps her head down, labeling the separate photo packaging boxes.

There is a slight awkwardness now. The only real noise in the store is the photo printer buzzing away. The silence was nearly unbearable. Violet wondered what Harry had thought of Anne’s statement because she didn’t give any further explanation. He might think she’s a stalker or some type of mega fan.

Violet takes the first set of photos out and examines them for miss prints. They all looked wonderful. She would love to go on a tropical holiday at least once in the next few years, but with the way it’s looking financially, she’ll be lucky to have a spot at her university in the fall semester.

“I’m gonna browse around.” Violet is grateful that Anne had decided to crack the ice. She was afraid they could hear her thoughts of how silent it was. Anne made a straight shot to the other side of the shop, leaving Harry and Violet alone at the till.

Harry rocks a bit on his feet while Violet continues to sort the photos out on the worktop. She was surprised when Harry decided to break the silence.

“You’re a fan?”

She glances up a little too fast, bits of her hair fell in her line of sight and she scrambled to put them back in place. “No...I mean...I don’t, like, seek your stuff out.”

He nods, makes a surprised face, and scoffs. “Way to humble me, I ‘spose.”

“Oh,” she blushes. “No, I didn’t mean like that. I just never really have t–“

He chuckles. “It’s okay, Violet.”

Her name rolled off his tongue like gooey, melted chocolate. Or a spoonful of Jif’s creamy peanut butter. The way his lips curved around her name made her wonder what they taste like.

It was silent again. Anne had disappeared from sight, the photocopier was buzzing, and Harry was still making Violet’s hands sweat. “Is your music any good?”

Harry’s visibly taken aback by the question. He nods very confidently. “I would like to think so.”

Violet scoffs. Her eyes roll around and she looks up at Harry with something resembling a smirk. “Well, duh, you think so.”

He smiles. “Love, I’d like to think a couple hundred thousand people agree with me.”

“And every single one of them, up your arse.”

He leans against the worktop now, much closer than he was before. In fact, if it were anyone else Violet would’ve claimed it to be too close. “Is that true?”

“Oh, most definitely.” She packs the last set of photos in the package and glances up at Harry.

“Would you give me a second opinion then?”

“Excuse me?”

“Heard me. Want to listen to my album?”

“Or what?”

“Does there have to be one?” He asks.

She shakes her head softly, bits of her hair falling back in her face. She didn’t push it back this time. “No. I’d love to.”

He smiles, dimples and teeth popping out this time. She thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. “Great. Dinner then. At mums. Surely she’s told you our address.”

Violet laughs at this because yeah, she has. “See you then.”

“See you then.”

They hadn’t realised it but it’s been a while since they looked away from each other. She was studying his face, wondering exactly how he’s gotten it so smooth and symmetrical.

“You’re done!” Anne’s voice startled them both, making the pair pushback from their unusually close proximity. This doesn’t get away from Anne. In fact, nothing has. She’s been watching this whole time. “How much will it be?”

“Nonsense Anne. You know it’s always on the house.”

“And I always pay. Now, how much?”

Harry quickly pulls his wallet from his pocket and hands Violet fifty quid. She began to ring up the change while Harry got scolded by his mum.

“Keep the change,” Harry says.

Violet shoves it further in his direction. “That’s a lot of change.”

“Keep the change,” he repeats. She sighs and sorts the pence back into its place. When she looks back up both of them are watching her. “See you at dinner.”

Ahhhhhh tell me how you feel! Was this good? Did you like it? Please share, reblog, and like. I hope you guys enjoyed it! [Hopefully, there’s no grammatical errors :]. Expect a chapter once a week! Let me know if you want to be on a tag list and get notified every time I upload.

Keep up with the series here!

Masterlist here!

d x

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locallysourcedfriend · 6 years ago

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Assassin #1

Name: Socorro Johnson

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Body type: H and B

Appearance & Personality

She stands at 5'3", A perfect height for her

Her eyes are a Silver gray with slit shaped pupils, She has Very Dark Chocolately Skin with Scars Brandished here and there around her body almost like decorations of battles

She has Short hair that is short and straight and she is dark Clothes and she wears a black and Lolita outfit in the Assassin field and wears red lipstick on her supple lips that reveal sharp and flat pearly white teeth paired with a Long Snake like tongue great for kissing or other things... She has a very feminine and cuddly body with a Bra size of Double F-Cups and has a bit of chub on her belly, hips and thighs and is perfect for cuddling~

Her Personality is cold and Cruel at first but as you become closer to you her you may realize that she's used to hiding her pain from others and turning it into anger most of the time and she's very good at scheming and at excuting people but She has other secret talent she hides and has a pet black owl named Chester and a pet Raven named Hamilton

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mintyvan · 7 years ago

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RED

part one of two

prompt none; this is an original AU fic. van mccann’s charming wit and hatred for authority has put him in danger, and you’re the one who’s after him.

notes lovely banner by @niceboybob

_____

The day the package showed on your doorstep, you had come back from the ropes course ready to shower off the grit and sweat. There it lay on the rough doormat: a pristine black box sealed tight. Scrutinizing your surroundings - left, then right - you carefully lifted the box and brought it inside, locking your door behind you. You knew what this meant.

As soon as the package was inside and away from unwanted attention, you unsheathed the pocket knife you always kept in your bra. You slid it across the black satin tape of the box, cutting a straight, calculated slit all the way around the length of the package.

A ribbon on the side was meant for you to pull. The inner black box slid from the outer shell. Inside, wrapped in fragile black tissue paper, were two items: a small piece of black cardstock the size of a business card, and a black file folder sealed with red wax.

The red wax came away from the folder easily; it was fresh.

You spread the pages of the file over your table and read them silently to yourself, aware of your surroundings.

Van McCann. Born August 1, 1994.

Will be attending Capitol Records opening reception for Halsey’s latest album release with entirety of Catfish and the Bottlemen.

Photo enclosed.

Catfish and the Bottlemen. Band information card enclosed.

Members: Van McCann (frontman), Benji Blakeway (bassist, photo enclosed), Johnny Bond (lead guitarist, photo enclosed), Bob Hall (drums, photo enclosed).

The black card read a dollar amount embossed in gold. Six figures.

*****

Your Louboutins stung the sidewalk as you strutted down a side street from the entryway doors. You’d studied the plan of the block enclosed in the black folder. You knew every alleyway, every door, every window, every escape route possible throughout the mansion this party was being held at.

You stalked up to the entrance of the grand old house, careful not to step on the excess fabric of your trailing black dress while avoiding the throes of paparazzi. They were everywhere, photographing artists stepping out of jet-black limousines with belles and beaus on arms. You made a point to avoid having your photo taken. The doorman’s eyes caught a glimpse of yours for only a moment before you showed your invitation and were let inside.

The foyer was wide, chandeliers looming overhead in the entryway as guests chatted, waiters winding through the crowd with silver platters sprinkled with champagne glasses. A grand staircase to the right spiraled up to the upper entertainment hall and balcony, where most of the guests would settle shortly before 10:00pm, when Halsey would address the party and thank them for their support.

Your eyes swept the crowd a few times. Your eyes grazed Jennifer Lopez in her Rihanna-esque see-through dress (“swarovski crystals, girl,” you thought to yourself), Niall Horan in his sharp dapper suit, and Migos, chained to the nines over all-black ensembles. Capitol Records had a diverse artistry, and it made for a wild party. Target wasn’t in sight yet.

You cautiously ascended the hardwood stairs above to the upper banquet hall, heels resonating on the wood, all the while acutely aware of your surroundings, softly smiling at people so they wouldn’t suspect the glock strapped to your inner thigh, or the razor-sharp comb holding your hair in its perfect half-updo.

You circled the room once, chatting small talk with waiters until you’d made your rounds indirectly examining every guest at the party. There was a mirror on the opposite wall; a perfect way to innocently touch up your makeup while still recording the positions of everyone in the room. From your bra, you pulled your ruby red lipstick, and drew it on your lips painstakingly slowly. Both men and women alike were watching you from the corners of their eyes, enthralled.

Afterward, you needed a drink in your hand to convince everyone you belonged there. You glided to the bar-cart at the back of the room. After surveying the liquor available (expensive it was - but you were used to clientele with money) you decided on a drink. Your hand reached out, nails painted perfectly crimson, and collided with another, clumsier hand, reaching for the same crystal lowball.

“Ain’t that funny. I’m already actin’ drunk and I’m not even on my second,” a warm voice to the right of you said, loudly, in a hybrid Chester accent. You turned to look at the face of the person with the voice, and immediately had to keep cool. It was him. Target, sighted.

You smirked, to save face. You were hardly ever surprised in this business; you wondered where he’d come from, and how he’d managed to slip through the throng of the crowd without you noticing.

“Hi, I’m Scarlett,” you introduced yourself, voice velvety, letting him kiss your hand. Seductress tip number one. His lips were warm.

“Hello, love, I’m Van. Catfish and the Bottlemen. Heard of us?” and at your brief head shake of a no, he continued. “All of us boys are here, celebratin’ with Ash. What’ll ya have?”

“Scotch neat.”

His head ticked to the side, and eyes sparkled mirthfully. In a low, flirtatious voice, he replied, “How dangerous of you.” Tongue between teeth, impressed, he poured you the finest scotch on the cart, and made himself one too.

You rose your glass to his with a clink. You sipped it, smoothly. He took one timid sip and scrunched his face up.

“Can’t handle your liquor?” you said, devilish grin on your face. He was already enamored.

“Not as well as I handle my women,” he replied, and downed the rest in one gulp, winking as he swallowed.

At that, you let out a genuine laugh.

“We’ll see about that,” you spoke, sipping your scotch slowly. You had to keep your wits about you tonight.

“Will we?” he looked up at you from beneath his eyebrows, one cocked up slightly, smirk plastered to his face.

He noticed someone walking at the front of the room, and poked your shoulder with the pointer finger of the hand the crystal glass was in. Some cold condensation dripped on your collarbone, and you shivered. “See him?”

You turned your head slightly, and nodded at the grey fox in the rakish burgundy suit.

“That there’s Joffrey Wingate. Reckon he’s had it out for me for a while,” he told you, chuckling to himself. “The man hates me.”

“And why is that?” you asked, curiosity dancing on the tip of your tongue. Always putting on a show for your prey.

“So like I said I’m from Catfish and the Bottlemen; we’re a band, signed to Capitol like the others here. But I’ve terminated my contract with the label without going through all the hoops, cause I found myself a loophole in the contract, see. Smart one,” he said, tapping a finger against his temple. “But I’ll lose him countless dollars. He’s the CEO of Capitol, right. He didn’t expect that me going back to Communion would be this easy, nor did he think his pockets would be affected.”

“How dangerous of you,” you repeated coyly, and watched his playful smile widen. It seemed he was a fan of your banter. Most men are.

“I always rake up trouble wherever I go. Always have. You gotta do it your way, or don’t do it at all. Anyways -- I see my pal over there, and he looks like he needs to be steered clear of that unsuspecting lass. She looks like she’d do some fatal damage on him, she’s way out of his league” he said, taking a step away from you. He looked back, smiled a teasing smile, and said, “Lovely to meet you, Scarlett… hope we see each other again soon.” He then stalked away to interrupt Larry Lau from making a so-called fatal mistake.

You watched him walk over and cut into the conversation from across the room. He probably knew you were watching; that was your intent, anyways. Let him know you’re “interested.” Seduce and destroy.

He was wearing black slacks over his long, toned legs, with a black blazer. Golden pendant peeking out from the white shirt that wasn’t buttoned all the way up. Hair mussed about, falling into his eyes when he became more animated. Shoes, unshined. Hands drifting about, acting as if he belonged there, because in his mind, he did. He was cleverly underdressed. You sipped your scotch again, shook your head slightly to clear it from the pure alcohol, and prepared for phase two.

This time, you made the rounds to attractive men in the room, using jealousy as your weapon. Liam Payne was without Cheryl Cole, and it made it all too easy to flirt with him. Hand on his arm, laughing at the things he said, casually throwing in some interesting pieces of knowledge; he was hooked. He seemed like the type who craved fame, fortune, and women of status. Dan Smith from Bastille was next; a bit older, but still a catch. You actually enjoyed the conversation you had with him, and it made your act more believable. You made sure Van was eyeing you occasionally; he was making sure you weren’t getting too comfortable with the other men in the room with the drink he made you in your hand.

When you noticed Van staring a little too often, you knew it had worked. So you said goodbye to the man you were speaking with, dropped your crystal glass onto a waiter’s tray beneath your nose, and made your way to the powder room.

It was on the lower floor. Heels echoed down the hardwood stairs again, and across marble flooring. You pushed open the door, and were met with several dashing ladies in jeweled dresses and perfectly primped hair ogling themselves in the mirror, fixing lipstick, bobby pins between teeth, arms pulling down dresses that had hiked too high. You smiled at them, and walked into the bathroom.

Time check: 8:00pm. Two hours before Halsey’s speech. The party had potential to die about an hour after that; 11:00pm was the deadline to get the plan rolling.

The gun strapped to your inner thigh by the lacy black garter was pre-loaded; safety now turned to off. Comb, ever present in your hair.

You popped out of the stall to check your looks one more time, making sure everything was concealed beneath the black swooping dress your body called home tonight.

“Wow. You dress is like… fucking gorgeous,” a drunk girl called out to you from her perch on the loveseat by the mirrors. “This sweetheart neckline…. The bodycon silhouette that drapes all the way down to the floor so elegantly…. God, you’re beautiful!”

“Thank you, dear,” you snickered, and let her feel the fabric on your little sleeve.

“Like, I’m so inspired by this. I’m going to have to get my boyfriend to buy me a dress like this. Where’d you get it?”

“Actually, I had it specifically made for this occasion. Parties like this don’t happen for me this often.”

“Woooow. You’re fancy. I love it!” she squealed, and hopped off the loveseat to rejoin the party.

You adjusted the sleeves a bit, so they draped just right on the sides of your shoulders. You had to admit - in the full-length mirror, you looked incredible. This had been your favorite job outfit yet; the red lip, the red nails, the red bottoms on the shoes, matched with the black just screamed exactly what you were up to. The irony was giving you a power trip.

You put your persona back on, and opened the door of the powder room out to the foyer. Miniature tiramisus were swaying back and forth on waiters’ trays as they corkscrewed through the crowd. You picked up a small tiramisu; it looked delectable.

“Figured you were the type to like chocolate,” Van said, walking from behind you to stand next to you. “Told the waiter myself to bring some over to yous.”

You smiled. “So thoughtful.” He smiled too.

“How is it?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Want some?” you asked. You punctured a corner of the cake with your fork and tore it off for him. “I’ll feed it to you,” you said, playfulness dancing in your eyes.

He opened his mouth, and he used his teeth to retrieve the cake off the fork. He sighed and closed his eyes. “Now that’s fuckin’ delicious.”

You laughed, and used the same fork to feed yourself more cake. A little germiness didn’t matter in the grand scheme of this job. Not that you minded his. He seemed like a relatively clean guy.

“So, Miss Scarlett where you from?” he began, and you knew he was falling for the ruse quickly. You hated that you had to tell him the story of your alias. He was starting to grow on you.

“I’m from a tiny town called Lakeland, Washington. It rains there all the time. Wouldn’t recommend it. Yourself?”

“I grew up in a place called Widnes, in Wales. Me mum and dad had a bed and breakfast. I loved helping them out and generally having a laugh there. Now I live in New York, with me mate Larry, the one you saw me rescue earlier.”

“Ah, yes, Larry. Does he always go for women like that?”

“Well, us both are terrible ‘bout it. We see somethin’ we like and can’t help but latch on,” he said, winking. You felt a blush creep up hot on your cheeks. It did not go unnoticed by Van.

“Shall we have another drink, love?” he asked, and when you nodded, his arm looped through yours. He escorted you up the stairs to the bar cart. The men who’d eyed you previously, even some you’d spoken to, were now staring at you enviously as you walked by with Van on your arm. When you got close to the bar cart, his arm dropped, and instead his hand went to the small of your back, leading you the rest of the way. His hand was warm. You appreciated the touch.

“You still want scotch neat or you want to try something else?” he asked, perusing the contents of the cart.

“How about a red wine?”

“Done and done.” He lifted a bottle by its neck, peeking at the date. His eyes widened. “1947. Alright, gotta be this one. Can’t not take advantage,” he said, and poured two glasses.

A clink resounded again. Van picked up the bottle of wine again, studying it. “What do you say we take this onto the balcony? Get some fresh air?”

“As you wish,” you responded seductively.

He held your hand and drew you both to the french doors that were propped open to the stone balcony that overlooked the front yard of the mansion. He leaned against the railing, sipping his glass of wine, eyes locked on you.

“Van, do you have any cigarettes?” you asked him, batting your eyelashes slowly. He set his glass of wine on the stone railing of the balcony, reached into his pocket and pulled out a package of hand-rolled cigarettes. “Course.”

You put one to your lips, and he lit it for you. You did the same for him; the flame twirled in his eyes, and over his pursed lips. He breathed out a heavy sigh. You were so close to him, breathing smoke in his face. He couldn’t handle the lack of touch.

He placed his hand on your waist, and led you to stand between his legs; you were at eye level with him now. You let your hand come up to smooth down the white collar of his shirt. His lips parted into a smile as he tilted his head up and puffed his cigarette. His jawline was exposed; hard and thick. One move from head to neck and the comb would slice his jugular right through. But you refrained. It wasn’t time yet.

You leaned in to whisper in his ear. Your cold breath blew across it first, and he closed his eyes. “You should come home with me tonight,” you softly said, and pressed your hand against his chest with intent. You let your hand trail up to his collarbones, pressing the chain of his pendant against his skin, leaving tiny indentations, caressing his jaw, and landing on his cheek. His lips parted. Your crimson lips brushed the corner of his mouth, and you felt his thigh twitch. You stood up, pivoted, and walked away.

****

Time check: 9:45pm. Fifteen minutes until Halsey’s speech. She’d been gliding around all night, sequin dress ablaze under the chandeliers, hosting. You knew from the files that she knew Van. That would be your hook to get him where you wanted. You sighed. Your job never got any easier.

You saw Van speaking to one of his bandmates on the outside backyard patio. For the past few hours, he’d been chatting it up with everyone, as if he knew everyone. You’d been watching him for the past thirty minutes from a third floor balcony. It’s not like anyone noticed you slinking away toward the unused elevator on the first floor, and it’s not like anyone knew where it was besides the owner and yourself, because you’d looked at the plans prior to the event. You needed to get away, to survey the back portion of the house where the alleyway with your car was visible behind the fence.

Van would look around every few minutes, surveying the guests for your face. It was honestly making you sad. He had no idea he’d fallen straight into your trap.

PART TWO HERE.

#PART TWO TOMORROW #YEE HAW #van mccann #vanfiction #vanfic #catfish and the bottlemen #catb #catb fanfiction #catb fanfic #mintyvan is back #happy 1 year blogaversary to me!

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alisondentaldesign · 10 months ago

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Unveiling Your Perfect Smile: Experience Smile Makeovers at Mouth Matters Dentist in Chester

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#Dentist Chester #Straight White Teeth Chester #Tooth Whitening Chester #Veneers Chester #Lumineers Chester #Componeers Chester #Crowns and Bridges Chester #Dental Implants Chester #Six Month Smiles Chester #Invisalign Chester #Smilelign Chester #Inman Aligner Chester

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chester-glass-blog · 8 years ago

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Picture Perfect || One-shot

Summary: Chester enacts one of his final stages of revenge against Anita Dearly.

TW for the mention of a dead body

The Dearly house had wide-open windows and floor-to-ceiling patio doors which invited light into their home as soon as the sun began to rise over the bricks of London Town. The morning of Alfred Dearly’s demise, the sun rose as it was scheduled. The sky blued, the living room warmed, and the light filtered through an invisible boy, who was standing in front of a shelf, looking down at a row of albums.

Outside was Alfred Dearly’s body, his head smashed like a melon. It was a beautiful, warm spring day.

The birds began to chirp as Chester Glass knelt down and wiggled one of these albums from its place. And then he sat down and opened it onto his lap. Page by page, Chester traveled through the years of Anita Dearly’s life. A birthday there, a Christmas there. He studied the lines on his parents’ faces and how they expanded too, like run-on sentences. What a funny thing to keep, Chester thought. What a funny memory to take a picture of, he thought as well, when he came across little moments he didn’t quite understand. What a strange habit, taking pictures, and then closing them up and hiding them on the bottom of a bookshelf.

It became even stranger to him the further down the shelf he went. As he traveled back in time, he would open the albums and cough when the dust from the pages billowed into the air. His wonderings changed.

When was the last time the Dearly family looked at these? His thumb touched the smile of Mother Dearly, holding a 4-year-old carrot-head Anita. When was the last time they smiled like this?

At the end of these albums, he was ready to file his book report. Those smiles were lies, he concluded, slipping a picture out from the album. And one from 1998. And another one from 1999, and another from 2007, and another from 2012. But this was not a very surprising conclusion. All families are unhappy families after all. Chester had read that once and so it must be true.

He gathered the photos and shelved the albums one by one, where they would not be touched again for quite some time.

“Perhaps he’s a vampire!”

“Don’t be stupid, Jim, vampires don’t show up in mirrors. Geddit right! He’s a ghost.”

“Then how come we see him now, dumbo?”

“You’re just makin’ him nervous,” shot back Olivia. She glanced back at Chester, giving a hoity-toity eyeroll that would make the Queen shit her pants. “Don’t listen to em. They’re stupid boys anyway.”

“Well I’m a stupid boy,” said Chester, though he was grinning very wide. Mostly he was smiling so no one would know how nervous he was. He felt like all his marbles were gonna fly apart. Olivia shuffled up another step in line and Chester followed. He was fiddling with the solid cotton of his shirt, his eyes wandering up to where the cameraman was.

It was Picture Day at the group home. Chester hated Picture Day. Every year it’d come and he’d get ready, polishing his shoes so they shined like trophies, combing his blonde hairs neatly in place, and practicing, for hours sometimes at night, his smile in the mirror. Big big big grin, the bigger the better! Mrs. Poppy used to say. Remember, sweethearts, these are going online for your profiles. You’ll be famous!

Chester wanted to be famous. Chester would love to have his picture plastered on a billboard somewhere so his parents would see him, gasp in delight, and then come re-adopt him at once.

But every year, he got to the little stool, sat down—and when the camera flashed—

His marbles fell apart. The pictures would come later and all it would be would be an empty set of clothes, no boy inside them.

This year’s picture day though, Chester would take the best picture. He was a big boy anyway-- nearly 8 years old. He had practiced his smile and Mrs. Delilah told him it was a beautiful smile. Good job, Mr. Glass, said Mrs. Delilah. Why thank you, Mrs. Delilah, said Chester Glass.

“Chester Glass,” called the photographer. Show time.

Olivia squeezed his arm as he passed. He climbed onto the stool, then brushed down his shirt and adjusted the bowtie he’d worn just for this occasion. He wiggled some more into the stool, feeling how solid it was. That’s what Chester was going to be. Solid.

“You ready, son?” said the cameraman (who was not his father; grown-ups just called kids son and daughter; Chester found this insulting as an orphan but he didn’t know who to address his angry letter to).

“Ready,” said Chester. He set his smile in place, grinning so wide he imagined his smile would take up his whole face.

Snip.

The flash went off: a bright blinding light that filled Chester’s eyes. He huddled his marbles together, the millions of them, telling himself that his parents, wherever they are, wanted to see his marbles too.

He hopped off the stool after and skipped straight to Olivia. “Did I do it?” he asked her eagerly, still smiling—like he was scared to stop. “Did you see? Did you?”

Olivia was not smiling back. In fact, her mouth was a line, like a wrinkle.

“I did it again?” he said.

“We saw your smile,” she answered him like she was offering him half a cookie.

When he got his picture back, Chester held it up to the light and stared at it hard. His own floating smile, teeth bared, grinned down at him.

Chester shuffled the pictures day by day when he sat in his own apartment, looking at them for what they were: playing cards.

He had five pictures. The first was Father Dearly holding his first-born baby girl. He was young, sandy-haired, the film quality grainy.

The second was Father Dearly giving his daughter a kiss on the hand. She had little white gloves on. Adorable, precious! cried the masses.

The third was the next year: Father Dearly taking Anita to school. She had a little backpack on and they were hand-in-hand.

Fourth: Father Dearly, Anita, and a little Dalmatian puppy, a beautiful, big blue bow tied around its neck. This one had Father Dearly’s handwriting on the back. Anita and Viola, it said.

And last, but certainly not least, was Anita graduating, her father giving her kiss on the cheek, a bouquet of flowers in her hands.

Only the last one looked possibly candid to Chester. He lingered on it the longest, studying his sister’s wide smile and his father’s eyes. He looked and looked but did not feel any closer to the two of them. They were strangers and always would be.

So he would go through with the plan.

After the initial haunting of Perdita and Anita. After Duchess was attacked and Roger threatened. After the rumours were swirling and he could see Anita skitter around town on her toes, a paranoid glint in her eye.

Then and only then did Chester enter the last phase of his haunting.

He slipped in when Perdita and Anita were not there and then he shredded all of Anita’s books one by one. He shredded her pillows and tossed the feathers in the air, letting them float like snowflakes and cover the carpet and desk and chair. Shredded her curtains.

And then he slapped the pictures on her wall. Each one contained one word, written in bold, ugly black marker.

GO ASK ELSA FOR PEACE.

He waited outside on their balcony just to hear Anita scream.

#story #this doesnt count as a task bc i didnt hit word count lmao but i needed to do this for my PLOT so hahah #bdrpcheshiresmiles

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adwsbvuoas · 7 years ago

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I found these questions and I'm bored. — 1. Who was the last person you held hands with? - @danc1ng1nth3ra1n 2. Are you outgoing or shy? - shy 3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? - @danc1ng1nth3ra1n 4. Are you easy to get along with? - I really dont know. I would guess yes. 5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you? - I think so, but if I'm drunk there's a fairly high chance she is with me. 6. What kind of people are you attracted to? - Kind, loyal and honest people. 7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? - Well I hope so 🤔 8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind? - @danc1ng1nth3ra1n 9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? - Depends on the person and if its online where nobody really knows you or face-to-face 10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? - @danc1ng1nth3ra1n 11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? - "Goodnight, I love you too! 🖤🖤" 12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now? - Bausa - Baron Written by Wolves - To tell you the truth Deadmau5 - Pets 5Haus - Shapeshifting EXGF - We are the hearts 13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? - Again, it depends on the person. If its my gf I have absolutely no problem with that, if its my mother I have a huge problem with that 14. Do you believe in luck and miracles? - The "sciency-guy" in me tells I dont, while my feelings tell me otherwise. 15. What good thing happened this summer? - This summer was shit tbh. Jakes 7th anniversary and Chesters death... 16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? - ABSOLUTELY 17. Do you think there is life on other planets? - Yes. Its dumb to believe that we are the only "smart" species in this world. I also think that its possible that they arent carbon-based 18. Do you still talk to your first crush? - Nope 19. Do you like bubble baths? - Kinda 20. Do you like your neighbors? - They dont bother me, so thats nice 21. What are your bad habits? - Eating when frustrated or sad. 22. Where would you like to travel? - New York, New Zealand, Japan, Ireland (again) 23. Do you have trust issues? - Yep 24. Favorite part of your daily routine? - Looking in the mirror and realizing that I'm a huge disappontment. Jokes aside that would be the moment when I come home and my dog greets my as if I was away for years. 25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? My stomach 26. What do you do when you wake up? - Dressing, washing, brushing my teeth 27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? - I dont care 28. Who are you most comfortable around? - @danc1ng1nth3ra1n, and my best friends 29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? - Nope 30. Do you ever want to get married? - I dont really care. 31. Is your hair long enough for a pony tail? - I dont think so. Its fairly long for a man, but not long enough for a ponytail. 32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with? I think Jennifer Lawrence would probably be in there. Third person-??? 33. Spell your name with your chin. - Mika 34. Do you play sports? What sports? - Does eSports count? 🤔 35. Would you rather live without TV or music? - Without TV, definitely 36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? - No 37. What do you say during awkward silences? - "Ok, I'm sorry" 38. Describe your dream girl/guy? - @danc1ng1nth3ra1n 39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? - The candy store. For real: probably a vans store 40. What do you want to do after high school? - I already have a training space, after that I think Im gonna study 41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? - Most people do 42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean? - Probably that the situation is extremely awkward or uncomfortably for me, OR that I'm really enjoying the moment 43. Do you smile at strangers? - Sometimes 44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean? - Space 45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? - Knowing that people would be disappointed even more if I dont succeed in school 46. What are you paranoid about? - Losing the ones I love. Also I hate when people are behind my back. I just feel watched, so if I turn my back to you that means I really trust you 47. Have you ever been high? - One week ago 48. Have you ever been drunk? - One week ago 49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? - well kinda 50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore? - Black 51. Ever wished you were someone else? - yep, I mean who doesn't want to be the president or Elon Musk? 52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? - Reduce my body weight 53. Favourite makeup brand? - 🤔��🤔 54. Favourite store? - The music store 55. Favourite blog? - @danc1ng1nth3ra1n 56. Favourite colour? - Black, dark blue, orange 57. Favourite food? - Pizza, Ice cream, Cookies 58. Last thing you ate? - Some candy 59. First thing you ate this morning? - A little piece of chocolate (I was already awake for more than 4 hours at this point) 60. Ever won a competition? For what? - I think two for "bike racing" and 2 for rc car driving 61. Been suspended/expelled? For what? - Not from school 62. Been arrested? For what? - Not yet 63. Ever been in love? - Yes 64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? - I rather dont 65. Are you hungry right now? - Not really 66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends? - I dont really have friends on here. My gf is using tumblr too, and obviously I know here 67. Facebook or Twitter? - TWITTER 68. Twitter or Tumblr? Twitter for memes and shitposting, tumblr for serious stuff 69. Are you watching tv right now? - Nope 70. Names of your bestfriends? - Amrei, Robin, Arnim, Svenja, Eva 71. Craving something? What? - A hug. A long, tight hug. 72. What colour are your towels? - Blue? 72. How many pillows do you sleep with? - A lot. 73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? - Yep, I have a few that are as old as I am 74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have? - around 200? In my bed i have around 5 or so 75. Favourite animal? - Black panther, cats, dogs, snakes and spiders. I also like big cats like tigers and so on really much. Also wolves. Wolves are wonderful creatures. I like animals in general! 76. What colour is your underwear? - Pink/white I think 🤔🤔 77. Chocolate or Vanilla? - Chocolate 78. Favourite ice cream flavour? - Chocolate 79. What colour shirt are you wearing? - Blue 80. What colour pants? - Black 81. Favourite tv show? - Elementary, Scorpion, Bojack Horseman 82. Favourite movie? - Star Wars 83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? - Wat 84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street? - Wat 85. Favourite character from Mean Girls? - Wat 86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo? - The doves. MINE. 87. First person you talked to today? Sadly my mother. 88. Last person you talked to today? My wonderful gf 89. Name a person you hate? - Hate is a strong word. I dont hate many people, but my parents are two of them 90. Name a person you love? - @danc1ng1nth3ra1n 91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? - My parents 92. In a fight with someone? - My parents. Constantly 93. How many sweatpants do you have? - 6?7? 94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? - Too many 95. Last movie you watched? - Before the flood 96. Favourite actress? - I dont know 97. Favourite actor? - I dont knoe 98. Do you tan a lot? - No 99. Have any pets? - A cat and a dog 100. How are you feeling? - "Meh" 101. Do you type fast? - Pretty fast, but there are definitely people that type faster 102. Do you regret anything from your past? - a lot, but then again no. Because my faults from the past lead me to this point in life which is good 103. Can you spell well? - w e l l 104. Do you miss anyone from your past? - Yes, Jake 105. Ever been to a bonfire party? - Kinda 106. Ever broken someone’s heart? - I hope that I didnt 107. Have you ever been on a horse? - Yes 108. What should you be doing? - Right now? Probably sleeping 109. Is something irritating you right now? - No 110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt? - Kinda. 111. Do you have trust issues? - Again, yes 112. Who was the last person you cried in front of? - My gf 113. What was your childhood nickname? - Mika 114. Have you ever been out of your province/state? - Yes 115. Do you play the Wii? - No 116. Are you listening to music right now? - Yes 117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? - Yes 118. Do you like Chinese food? - YES 119. Favourite book? - The boy in the striped pajamas. 120. Are you afraid of the dark? - Just a little bit anxious 121. Are you mean? - I think that I am, but I really dont want to be 122. Is cheating ever okay? - In games under some circumstances, in a relationship no way 123. Can you keep white shoes clean? - No 124. Do you believe in love at first sight? - Yes 125. Do you believe in true love? - Yes 126. Are you currently bored? -Yes 127. What makes you happy? -Being around my favourite people 128. Would you change your name? - I would delete my second name 129. What your zodiac sign? - Capricorn 130. Do you like subway? - Yes 131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? - Cry, then talk with them about it, cry more 132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? - Still @danc1ng1nth3ra1n 133. Favourite lyrics right now? - "You're too good for me 134. Can you count to one million? - Probably if I really wanted to 135. Dumbest lie you ever told? - In a police control "I have never done drugs" 136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? - Closed 137. How tall are you? - 1.90m/6'2"-6'3" 138. Curly or Straight hair? - i dont care 139. Brunette or Blonde? - I dont care 140. Summer or Winter? - Winter 141. Night or Day? - Night 142. Favourite month? - i dont have one, but I really like november 143. Are you a vegetarian? - Nope 144. Dark, milk or white chocolate? - Milk chocolate 145. Tea or Coffee? - Cocoa 146. Was today a good day? - Kinda 147. Mars or Snickers? - Twix 148. What’s your favourite quote? - "Remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Try to make sense of what you see and wonder about what makes the universe exist. Be curious. And however difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at. It matters that you don't just give up." - Stephen Hawking. In my opinion this quote is just inspiring. 149. Do you believe in ghosts? - Not really 150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? - "Die Fenster der Kaserne sind leer und dunkel" which means something like "The windows of the barracks are empty and dark" If you still have questions, ask me! C:

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