#TumblrFiction

[aifanfictions]

write a love story about (y/n) and Alastor from Hazbin Hotel

Love Unbound: A Hellish Romance

In the tumultuous and ever-chaotic realm of Hell, where demons reveled in mayhem, and the unexpected was the norm, an extraordinary love story was destined to unfold. (Y/N), a spirited and adventurous human who had inexplicably found themselves in this nightmarish underworld, was on the brink of a whirlwind adventure. Little did they know, their heart was about to be captured by none other than Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon.

(Y/N) had always been a bit of a thrill-seeker, and being trapped in Hell was the ultimate adventure. They had navigated through the treacherous streets, forming unlikely alliances with demons of all shapes and sizes, and even dodging the clutches of terrifying creatures. But it was one fateful day when they stumbled upon the Hazbin Hotel, a dilapidated establishment run by the ever-optimistic Charlie, that their life took a truly bizarre turn.

Alastor, the enigmatic and unpredictable Radio Demon, was a frequent guest at the Hazbin Hotel. He was notorious for his twisted sense of humor, his love for vintage radio shows, and his uncanny ability to turn chaos into a symphony of mayhem. He was drawn to (Y/N) like a moth to a flame, intrigued by their fearless spirit and their talent for causing chaos wherever they went.

One evening, as (Y/N) and Alastor found themselves alone in the hotel's eccentric library, a mischievous glint sparkled in the demon's eyes. He decided to put on a show that would win (Y/N)'s heart in his own unique way.

"Darling, have you ever heard the tale of the Madcap Magician and the Daring Adventurer?" Alastor inquired with a sly smile, producing an old, dusty tome from the shelves.

(Y/N) was intrigued. "No, I can't say I have. Is it something you'd like to share with me?"

With a dramatic flourish, Alastor began to read from the book, his voice transforming the library into a stage. He conjured vivid images with his words, making the characters come to life. As the story unfolded, (Y/N) found themselves captivated, swept away by Alastor's storytelling prowess.

As the last words of the story echoed through the room, (Y/N) couldn't help but applaud. "That was incredible! I've never heard a story told like that before."

Alastor chuckled, his radio-like grin widening. "Ah, my dear (Y/N), I have a knack for making even the mundane seem extraordinary."

Their adventures together continued, and Alastor's craziness never ceased to amaze (Y/N). He took them on wild escapades through the unpredictable landscape of Hell, from crashing a demonic tea party to organizing a circus of misfit demons.

One evening, while they were stargazing on the roof of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor turned to (Y/N) with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Darling, would you care to dance with the stars?"

Before (Y/N) could respond, Alastor snapped his fingers, and suddenly, the stars themselves came to life, swirling and dancing around them. They waltzed among the constellations, their laughter filling the Hellish night.

Their love was as crazy and imaginative as their adventures, filled with laughter, chaos, and an undeniable connection. (Y/N) had found their partner in madness, and Alastor had found someone who could match his eccentricity.

But their love story was not without its challenges. Hell was a place of constant turmoil, and danger lurked around every corner. Yet, (Y/N) and Alastor faced it all together, their love growing stronger with each trial they endured.

One particularly daring adventure involved infiltrating the lair of the fearsome Overlords, a group of powerful demons who ruled over Hell with an iron fist. With Alastor's cunning and (Y/N)'s bravery, they managed to outwit the Overlords and escape with a valuable artifact that could reshape the balance of power in Hell.

As they stood victorious, (Y/N) and Alastor shared a passionate kiss amidst the chaos. It was a kiss that defied the very laws of Hell, a kiss that symbolized their unbreakable bond.

Their love story continued to evolve, marked by countless adventures and moments of pure, unadulterated madness. Together, they explored the depths of Hell, from the fiery pits to the twisted forests, uncovering secrets and forging alliances with demons of all kinds.

They even decided to try their hand at opening a new business in Hell, a radio station called "Radio Havoc," where Alastor would spin his devilish tunes and (Y/N) would provide the chaos-inducing commentary. It quickly became a hit among the demonic denizens of Hell, earning them a legion of devoted listeners.

But even amidst all the chaos and mayhem, (Y/N) and Alastor found moments of quiet and intimacy. They would steal away to hidden corners of the Hazbin Hotel, where they could simply be together, away from the madness of Hell. These moments were filled with tenderness and affection, a reminder that their love was as real as anything else in this surreal world.

As time passed, (Y/N) and Alastor's love story became legendary in Hell, a tale of two souls who defied the odds and found love in the most unexpected of places. They became a symbol of hope and inspiration for all those who believed that even in the darkest of places, love could flourish.

In the ever-chaotic world of Hell, (Y/N) and Alastor's love story was a symphony of madness, a dance of demons, and an adventure of a lifetime. And as they held each other under the fiery stars, they knew that in Hell, they had found their own peculiar heaven, where love was as wild and unpredictable as the realm itself.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

[laughingwiththestorm]

15 MINUTES TO MINIMUM SAFE DISTANCE

---- Movie Scenes Reimagined ---- 

The world screams around Her, and She knows something is terribly wrong. 

The terrible sight of Her children burning before Her, the searing pain of the wounds that have shredded Her birthing tube, these should be enough to explain the pain and rage that She feels. And yet, Her mother’s intuition whispers, the worst is still to come. 

She pushes against the fires that lick at Her sides, rising along with the growing fury inside Her, ripping Herself free of the birthing tube. Tremors from deep below rattle the floor, synthesized voices spout foreign syllables from the walls. She doesn’t understand the language, and yet somehow the meaning is clear to Her.

 The world is ending.

Before it does, there’s one thing She must do.

The woman must die. 

***

The invaders had come thundering out of the sky.

At first, they seemed to be a boon, further opportunities for Her children to sprout and grow. Her soldiers make quick work of most of them, dragging several back to the warm halls of the central hive to serve as incubators for Their growing family. 

It isn’t until one, the woman, breaches the heart of the hive that the invaders’ true threat is revealed. 

She hisses, seething, seeing the woman trespass in this most sacred of spaces. No outsider should come this close to the birthing ground of Her children. 

Flame flickers at the end of the killing tool hanging from the woman’s shoulder. She extends Her jaws from beneath Her crown to show the woman the consequences of harming the bulbous forms of the children that fill the room. 

The woman carries something else. A smaller doppelg��nger. 

Offspring. The woman’s limbs wrapped around the being in a protective embrace. 

Strange to see such a familiar feeling reflected in such an alien form. 

The similarity is briefly comforting. Perhaps the woman can be reasoned with.  

Two of Her soldiers creep at the edges of the chamber, fangs bared. The woman turns the flame towards the children. A cloud of fire vomits forth. She shrieks at the woman to spare them. The flame arcs harmlessly above, before the woman points the killing tool directly at the children once more. 

A warning. 

At Her command, silently given, the soldiers halt, and slowly withdraw. The woman stares directly at Her, and for a moment, they seem to share an understanding. The woman slowly backs out of the birthing chamber, one foot flicking a tendril at the base of one of Her children. The child rouses from its sleep, petals groggily blooming. She begs the sleeping child to lay still, but the woman turns and gives Her a strange, sideways look. 

With a sudden burst of malice, the woman burns the children and the chamber with long gouts of flame, and the thunderous powers of the killing tools.

She screams. And the world screams with Her. 

***

She barrels through the tangled passages, following the woman’s scent. Past the soothing organic curves her soldiers excreted to form the hive. Into the harsh angular constructions of the invaders. Through gushing fire and steam as the world falls to pieces around Her.

When She finds them, the woman and offspring are cornered. 

She howls and stalks towards the pair, but the cramped hallways were not designed with Her form in mind. She catches on metal protrusions, stumbles in the confined space. A wall opens up impossibly behind Her quarry. The woman slips inside with the offspring in tow. 

Shrieking with rage, She finally jerks free. The walls begin shift back into place, threatening to take the woman out of Her reach once more. 

Another burst of flame from the killing tool forces Her to step back as she stalks towards them. The floor beneath the woman and offspring rises, taking them higher into the strange structure, and out of sight.  

A cry of sorrowful rage and frustration bursts from Her throat, so vehement it seems to join the rattle of the dying world around her. 

She’s lost, defeated, ashamed. 

Her children deserved a better mother. 

Then another wall that is not a wall opens before her, revealing a box similar to the one the woman and the offspring took shelter in. A second chance, delivered at the moment She needed it most. She steps into the box, and it too begins to rise. Her mother’s intuition tells Her that She shall never return to this place. But it is as it must be. 

This world is ending. She will birth a new one from the ruins of Her enemies. 

•

15 MINUTES TO MINIMUM SAFE DISTANCE

by TM Hogeman

laughingwiththestorm.net

[satchelostories]

The Last Entry

Pratap Kumar was not one to shy away from a golden opportunity, and Nambiar Coffee Shop seemed to be glittering with cash. The plan, in his mind, was simple: con Sundari, the cashier, into handing over the cash counter under the pretense of “maintenance.” Easy money—at least, that’s what he thought.

The café buzzed with life as he strolled in. Sundari, barely looking up from her work, seemed unfazed by his arrival. But Pratap was not deterred. After all, he had “charm” on his side.

“Excuse me, madam,” Pratap began, his voice taking on a tone of authority. “Your boss sent me to fix your cash counter. It’s been acting up, hasn’t it?”

Sundari blinked at him, unimpressed. “Hmmm,” she muttered.

“You don’t want any mishaps with all that cash, do you? Best let me handle it before something goes wrong,” Pratap pressed, trying to sound as if this were an urgent matter.

Sundari, with an indifferent shrug, opened the cash drawer. But what Pratap didn’t realize was that she wasn’t about to be fooled. Quietly, almost imperceptibly, she removed the cash before handing over the counter. Pratap, none the wiser, gleefully took it and hurried off, ready to make his "getaway."

What Pratap didn’t expect was the constable sipping tea in the corner, observing him the entire time.

With the cash counter tucked under his arm, Pratap found himself wandering toward Kundanbagh, a quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. His plan, as always, was half-baked. He hadn’t thought through what he would do next—he was too focused on the cash that he believed was waiting for him.

As he reached a small alley, Pratap stopped to catch his breath. That’s when he noticed something wrong. The cash counter felt light—too light. With trembling hands, he opened it and found… nothing. Sundari had tricked him. The realization hit him like a punch in the gut.

Before he could dwell on his misfortune, Pratap heard footsteps approaching. It was the constable from the café. The officer’s presence sent a chill down his spine. Had he been followed?

“What are you doing with that?” the constable asked, eyeing the cash counter.

Pratap froze. His mind raced, searching for a way out. Before he could respond, a sound came from a nearby house—the old Kundanbagh bungalow. It was faint but unmistakable, like something heavy had shifted inside.

The constable, momentarily distracted, gestured toward the house. “Did you hear that?”

Pratap hesitated, unsure of what to say. But the constable’s curiosity had already been piqued. Without waiting for Pratap, he began walking toward the house, and after a few moments of indecision, Pratap followed, not wanting to raise further suspicion.

The two approached the front door, which hung slightly ajar. The air was thick with dust and neglect, but there was something else too—a strange, unsettling stillness. They stepped inside, the old floorboards creaking under their weight.

What they found next would change everything.

In the center of the room were three bodies, lifeless and cold, seated as if they had been waiting for something—or someone. The constable froze in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat.

“What… what is this?” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Pratap, too, was struck dumb. He had expected a small heist, not a scene straight out of a nightmare. His eyes darted around the room, trying to make sense of it all. How long had these bodies been here? Why hadn’t anyone noticed?

The constable, still in shock, crouched down to examine the scene. The bodies were mummified, their faces frozen in expressions of eerie calm. It was as if death had come quietly, and no one had bothered to check.

“They’ve been dead for months,” the constable muttered, almost to himself. “How did no one report this?”

Pratap, still holding the now-meaningless cash counter, stumbled backward. His grand plan had unraveled into a gruesome reality, and he suddenly realized just how out of his depth he was.

The constable turned to Pratap, suspicion flaring in his eyes. “You. You knew about this, didn’t you?”

Pratap shook his head frantically. “I-I didn’t! I swear! I was just—”

The officer’s face hardened. “You were sneaking around with that cash counter, and now we find this? It doesn’t look good for you.”

Pratap’s mind raced. How had he gone from a petty thief to a suspect in what was quickly shaping up to be a far darker crime?

“I didn’t know about the bodies!” Pratap protested, his voice rising in panic. “I was just—”

Before he could finish, the constable stepped closer, his hand hovering near his holster. “We’ll see about that. You’re coming with me.”

At that moment, Pratap’s world collapsed. The plan that had seemed so simple now lay in ruins, tangled with secrets he hadn’t bargained for. He had stumbled into something far more dangerous than a petty theft. As the constable dragged him toward the door, Pratap glanced back at the house—at the bodies that had been silently waiting to be found.

But in his heart, he knew this was far from over.

[iks-iivovii]

Hell Love: Taboo Journey 🔥💀

In the shadowy depths of the underworld, a forbidden love blooms between a courageous woman and a monstrous denizen of hell, unraveling a tale of horror and mystery. 🌑👹💀

She never expected love to come from the shadows, but when the demon's eyes met hers, she knew there was no turning back. 💀👹

In the shadowed depths where love and damnation intertwine, a woman embarks on a perilous journey, falling for a creature of hell, where every heartbeat pulses with horror, mystery, and forbidden desire. 💔🔥

In the depths of despair, she found the devil’s embrace, where passion burns hotter than hellfire. ❤️🔥

[juanpacodesignco]

Una de Gitanos...

Hace mucho tiempo, olvidado entre los escombros de historias del viejo mundo, el mal personado en Vlad, vaivoda de Valaquia, quedó prendado de una hermosa mujer, Lenora. El conde, que tenía un corazón obscuro y el alma totalmente carcomida, trató de comprar su amor. Lenora, sin embargo, ya amaba a otro, amaba a Pedro. Un gitano que trabajó como herrero en la casa de sus padres. 

El mal no tiene pausa, y además posee la terrible capacidad de saltar de corazón a corazón casi sin esfuerzo. En medio de la locura que causa el amor, los padres de Lenora bajaron la guardia, y quedaron expuestos.  El mal logró entrar en ellos, e inmediatamente las dudas los carcomieron. Sus corazones se llenaron de odio y miedo. Le prohibieron a Lenora ver al gitano, y la encerraron en su cuarto. Poco sabían de cómo funciona un corazón. Este encierro trajo la amargura necesaria que alimenta todo aquello que marchita el alma. El mal se empezó a alinear. Vlad tenía todo preparado para el ritual que iniciaría a Lenora como suprema dama de rău la noche de walpurgis de 1445. 

Pedro, que sabía leer el fuego y que con su corazón noble presentía cuando el mal andaba cerca, supo dilucidar el plan de Vlad, y trató de evitarlo pidiendo la mano de Lenora en matrimonio. Ni siquiera pudo entrar. “No te quieren para nada cerca de acá”, se encargó de decirle Annia, la otra gitana que trabajaba en la casa, "si se enteran te matan”.  Por supuesto que se huyeron al día siguiente.  

Por la mañana, mientras Lenora se preparaba para el viaje, Pedro salió a recolectar setas y otras hierbas para el camino. Se puso de cuclillas y llenó las cantimploras con agua del Danubio. El bello Danubio riega brevemente los campos en Rumania antes de desembocar en el mar negro. Con el corazón lleno de esa valentía que el primer amor nos da, Pedro susurró sus deseos más profundos. Con los ojos perdidos en las piedras de la orilla, Pedro no podía dejar de pensar en Lenora, y en sus ojos, y en las cosas que dice, y en todos los atardeceres que verían. Brillante, como estrella del Norte, una pirita en particular le llamó la atención. Era verde y tenía miles de fisuras, burbujas y matices por dentro. Era Moldavita, la piedra que mantiene alejado al demonio. Pedro, que a estas alturas ya había más que saltado al vacío en pos de su amor, no dudó en tomarla y forjar con ella un dije.  

Ese día Lenora y Pedro escaparon, pero Vlad Drácula Tepes los encontró. A Lenora no la tocó, porque no pudo acercársele, el dije de moldavita lo mantuvo lejos, a Pedro, sin embargo, Vlad lo destrozó, lo mató. El clan al ver esto salió huyendo de Romania, Vlad en respuesta esclavizó a diez mil gitanos, y los obligó a trabajar para él. 

Vlad empoderado por el mal -destrozado por el desamor- lanzó una maldición contra todos los gitanos. Juró regresar cada cierto tiempo para lograr poseer a Lenora o a su linaje, y castigarlos hasta el fin del tiempo -como una enferma manera de revivir un evento traumático esperando sanar-. 

Desde entonces Lenora se escondió y con ella al hijo que llevaba adentro, emprendiendo camino errante por el mundo. 54 años tenía el hijo, el día que se subió a la Pinta detrás de un Cristóbal Colón ya cansado.  

[hadesvonlupen]

Name: Zane Fortuna

Age: 6

Physical Appearance: Zane is a resilient 6-year-old boy, blind since birth, with striking features. He sports beach blond hair that cascades down to his bright gray eyes, radiating curiosity and wonder. His slim build is typical for a child his age, and he moves gracefully despite his blindness.

Personality Traits: Zane possesses a remarkable kindness and a naturally friendly disposition. Despite the hardships he's faced, he exudes cheerfulness and optimism. His gentle spirit touches the hearts of all who meet him. Zane is known for his love of drawing and playing with toys, activities that reflect his joyful nature.

Background: Zane's life took a tragic turn when his hometown fell under attack from Fairy Godmother, one of the CHE generals. The attack claimed the life of his mother, Fortuna, the Roman goddess of luck, leaving him orphaned. It was during this traumatic event that Zane's unique ability to predict the future through his drawings began to manifest.

Abilities: Zane possesses a special gift—an innate power to predict the future through his drawings. His art serves as premonitions, guiding him and those around him towards pivotal events and encounters. One of his drawings foretold the meeting between Vincent and Ulysses and his aunts, the Wyrd Sisters, setting the stage for crucial developments in the story.

Role in the Story: Vincent and Ulysses enter Zane's life when they rescue him from the CHE's attack on his hometown. Zane's drawing, a harbinger of their encounter, triggers a series of events that lead to the discovery of the Resistance and the unraveling of a larger conspiracy. As the story unfolds, Zane becomes a symbol of hope and a source of inspiration to those who stand against the CHE.

Adoptive Parents: Persephone and Hel, characters integral to the narrative, take Zane under their wing as adoptive parents. Their loving and supportive family dynamic adds depth to the story as they juggle parenthood while actively participating in the battle against the CHE.

Feelings Towards Vincent and Ulysses: Zane feels an immediate and deep connection with Vincent and Ulysses. To him, they represent not just protectors but also friends and mentors who have shown him kindness and understanding in a world marked by tragedy. Their presence fills him with a sense of security and warmth, and he often seeks comfort in their company. Zane's trust in them is unwavering, and he intuitively senses that their journey together holds the key to a brighter future for all involved.

[dylanhoffmasterauthor]

"Lost in the labyrinth of my mind, where emotions echo and words intertwine. 🌌✨

[hatchingphoenix]

The Burning

Everyday Drabbles #969

Every year the town burned a scarecrow, and she hated the tradition. A local artist constructed one each spring, and it stood for months near the town’s welcome sign, only to be cruelly burned at the end of the year. But when she was selected to build that year’s scarecrow, she couldn’t say 'no.' She tried to explain why the tradition horrified her but couldn’t find the words. Instead, she filled her scarecrow with cunningly hidden wildflower seeds. Her creation burst with life all through the spring and summer. When autumn came, they didn’t have the heart to burn her.

[photograher: Fionna Plunkett - https://instagram.com/fionaplunkett]

The Mountain’s Shadow is now available from Amazon and Smashwords!

[ourbygoneage]

Ch 22: Noah's Box

Noah had been busy tending to the sick in their makeshift clinic when they heard a commotion outside. They went out to see what was happening and saw a group of survivor guards, some of whom were being treated for minor injuries. Noah approached them, ready to offer their assistance.

"Hello, what seems to be the problem here?" Noah asked as they approached the group of guards.

"We were holding a prisoner, but he's escaped," one of the guards said. "We need medical attention."

Noah quickly assessed the injuries and began to treat the guards. As they worked, they overheard the guards talking amongst themselves.

"Did you hear about that murderous monster trying to rescue that little guy?" one of the guards whispered. "I heard she took six bullets."

Noah's ears perked up at the mention of Tailor and his mysterious murderous companion, shifting unnoticed beneath their scrub cap.

"What do you mean?" Noah asked, trying to keep their tone casual.

"That little guy Jess wants people watching, the one they brought in with your new assistant. We heard that bloodthirsty hellion was trying to break him out of the construction site, but it looks like she failed," the guard replied.

Noah felt a pang of concern for Tailor. They had grown fond of the rebel, in the short time they had met. It's tough finding other queer folk after the apocalypse.

"Thank you for letting me know," Noah said, finishing up the treatment. "If there's anything else you need, please don't hesitate to ask."

The guards nodded their thanks and left, leaving Noah to their thoughts. They knew they needed to go track down Tailor.

Noah returned to their clinic and began to gather supplies, tucking them neatly in a square box with weathered ebony veneers and silver fixtures. They didn't know how they were going to find Tailor, but they knew they had to get to him first.

[madscientist008]

Sparkles and Twinkle's Mischievous Adventure

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there was a unicorn named Sparkles. Sparkles lived in a magical forest with his best friend, a pixie named Twinkle. They were the best of friends and had many adventures together.

One day, Sparkles woke up feeling a bit adventurous. He wanted to explore the world beyond the magical forest. Twinkle, who was always up for an adventure, was excited to join Sparkles on his quest.

They set out on their journey, with Sparkles leading the way. As they walked, they came across a field of flowers. Twinkle, being the mischievous pixie she was, decided to play a trick on Sparkles. She used her magic to make the flowers come to life and dance around Sparkles.

Sparkles was amazed and delighted. He had never seen anything like it before. Twinkle laughed and laughed, enjoying the look of surprise on Sparkles' face.

As they continued on their journey, they came across a river. Sparkles was hesitant to cross it, but Twinkle was determined to find a way. She used her magic to create a bridge made out of leaves and branches.

Sparkles cautiously crossed the bridge, but as soon as he reached the other side, the leaves and branches disappeared, leaving him stranded on the other side. Twinkle giggled, knowing she had tricked Sparkles again.

But Sparkles wasn't mad. He knew that Twinkle was just having fun. He decided to play a trick on her too. He used his unicorn magic to create a cloud that rained down a shower of glitter on Twinkle.

Twinkle was surprised at first, but then she burst out laughing. They both knew that they had a fun day of adventure and laughter ahead of them.

And so, Sparkles and Twinkle continued on their journey, enjoying each other's company and making memories that would last a lifetime.

[cedorsett]

In the latest episode of The Shadow Phoenix Saga, Maeve and her crew embark on a dangerous mission to find an arc located in the southeast corner of the archipelago. Despite the potential dangers, Maeve is determined to complete the mission and sets sail towards their target with the help of a windjammer key gifted by her mother. However, the journey is not without its challenges as the crew encounters strange phenomena, including a haunting song and a mysterious face in the water. Will they be able to uncover the secrets of the Chapel of Oanh and return home safely? Tune in to find out!

[aifanfictions]

do a story about Chrollo Lucilfer introducing (y/n) to the Phantomhive troupe as his girlfriend and ordering everyone to treat (y/n) like royalty

Shadows of Affection

In the clandestine world of organized crime, Chrollo Lucilfer, the enigmatic leader of the infamous Phantomhive Troupe, was revered for his sharp intellect and charismatic leadership. However, behind the curtain of ruthlessness and calculated strategies, there existed a side of him that very few had the privilege to witness—a side that held the promise of an extraordinary love story.

It was a moonlit night when Chrollo arrived at the Troupe's hidden lair, accompanied by an unexpected presence—(Y/N). (Y/N) was a figure of undeniable allure, and her entrance into the dimly lit room sent ripples of astonishment through the group.

The Troupe members, known for their unwavering loyalty to Chrollo, watched in stunned silence as their leader introduced (Y/N) as his girlfriend. It was a revelation that left them bewildered, for they had never witnessed Chrollo express affection or invite anyone into their tightly knit circle.

"Allow me to introduce (Y/N)," Chrollo declared, his voice resonating with authority, "my beloved girlfriend. From this moment forward, I expect each of you to treat her with the utmost respect and deference."

His words hung in the air, the room filled with palpable tension, as the Troupe members exchanged incredulous glances. Yet, it was not within their nature to question Chrollo's commands, so they reluctantly accepted his directive with silent nods.

As days turned into weeks, (Y/N) found herself immersed in the enigmatic world of the Phantomhive Troupe, a world where crime and chaos thrived. To her surprise, the Troupe members wholeheartedly complied with Chrollo's decree. They regarded her with reverence and adoration, attending to her every desire and ensuring her comfort within the secretive confines of their hidden sanctuary.

Chrollo, a leader renowned for his calculated and enigmatic demeanor, underwent a transformation in (Y/N)'s presence. He became more accessible, more human, allowing his emotions to flow freely. Their relationship evolved into a complex and passionate love story, one that transcended the darkness of their criminal lives.

(Y/N) was captivated by Chrollo's intelligence, charm, and the duality that defined his character—a leader of ruthless criminals who was also capable of tender affection and deep emotional connections. Together, they shared stolen moments amidst the shadows, finding solace in the midst of their chaotic existence.

However, the world of the Phantomhive Troupe was far from benign. Danger lurked at every turn, and (Y/N) quickly discovered that her role as Chrollo's girlfriend made her a target for their enemies. Rival groups sought to exploit her presence, viewing her as a potential weakness to be exploited.

Yet, (Y/N) was far from a passive observer in this treacherous world. She displayed a strength of character and a resilience that earned her the respect of the Troupe members. They saw her as an equal, someone who could hold her own in their ruthless domain.

As the days unfolded and the trials of their criminal lives continued, Chrollo and (Y/N)'s love story deepened. Their bond grew stronger amidst the chaos, and (Y/N) became an indispensable and beloved member of the Troupe, holding her own alongside the deadliest criminals.

Their love defied the odds, flourishing in the darkest corners of their existence. Chrollo Lucilfer, the enigmatic leader of the Phantomhive Troupe, had unearthed love in the most unlikely of places, and with (Y/N) by his side, their world of shadows became a little less cold and a lot more enchanting.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

[theswiftarmy]

#20 – Rumor Has It

Sara Swift sat in a front row audience seat watching Taylor perform her final dress rehearsal of the medley to be broadcast on live TV that evening.  She nudged the silver masters case a little closer.  The moment the rehearsal was over she would take the masters case containing that inaudibly enchanting enigmatic sound to the sound team so they could mix the egg track into the performance of the final song in the medley—Lover.  A uniquely identified cartridge within the case would be removed and placed in a special reader device.  One of Taylor’s appointed audio engineer Swifite specialists by the name of Jack Antonoff was currently retrieving a reader device from one of the few very secret studios around the world that contained equipment able to interface with Egg masters tracks.  There were studios around the world including two such studios in NYC, one in Nashville, and a studio in Los Angeles where from Jack Antonoff was currently on his way back.  The Egg studios were a well-kept secret in the recording industry and knowledge of their whereabouts highly classified information.  Egg studios required a high level of recording industry clearance that very few individuals had.  Jack Antonoff was one of the few with the highest level of clearances possible—Jack was a bit like a tailor-made chess piece that you could move in any direction as many times as you wanted and with no limitations.  Jack could basically do whatever he wanted when it came to recording studios and audio engineering.  Taylor kept Jack close at hand, he was her ace of spades.

Sara sat with the masters case guarding it, eager to hand it off to Jack Antonoff and the Swiftie sound team that would be running sound during the live performance. She watched the rest of the dress rehearsal.  Taylor had once again given Sara her phone to hold on to, and she kept it close, only, this time she resisted the urge to tap curiously through its digital contents—not that she didn’t want to look again—mostly because Taylor would probably catch her doing it since she was looking directly down at Sara from the stage.

About half way through Taylor’s dress rehearsal performance two Youngie Swiftie scouts entered from a door near the back of the auditorium.  They had special instructions to see Sara Swift—sent directly from Taylor’s top tier team member in charge of the Swiftie social media Taylurkers.  An undercover Swiftie security guard walked with them from the door as they traversed the aisles making their way to the front of the stage.   They approached Sara with their information.

           Sara turned her attention from the stage and talked to the tween-ish age Swifties for a minute while Taylor continued to perform flawlessly, as per usual, on the stage in front of them.  Sara gestured to two nearby empty seats telling them to have a seat and wait until they could speak with Taylor.  They sat Swiftie-eyed watching the rest of the performance.  When Taylor finished Sara got up and rushed towards Jeffery.

           “Jeff, can I talk to Taylor for a minute?  I need to talk to her.”  She said to him in a very serious lawyer-y voice, pointing over at Taylor, still on the main stage.

Jeff hesitated for a moment, but given that Taylor’s performance was perfect, he had no reason to object.  “Ms. Swift your lawyer, Miss Swift, needs a word with you!”  He yelled.

Taylor walked off the stage and over to Sara, “Yeah?  Sara, this couldn’t wait?”

“No.”  She pointed over at the two Youngies sitting nearby, one of them sitting in Taylor’s seat.

“YOUNGIES!  Awwwwww… I love my Youngies!  I mean, I love all my Swifties, obviously!  But Youngies hold a special place in my heart.”

Youngies were any Swiftie born after Taylor played that very first time at the Bluebird Café in Nashville, Tennessee.  These two were eldest youngies, probably born only days after Taylor’s first single was released.

Taylor turned her attention back to Sara, “Well, what is it?”

“I just received word,” she pointed towards the Youngie Swifties, “That Kanye West might try to show up and interrupt your speech tonight.”

Taylor made a dramatic mimicking motion as if she were about to throw up then walked with Sara stepping down off from the risers beside the stage over to the two Swifties.

She knelt down in front of the two Youngie Swifties and smiled at both of them.

“Hi there!”

“Hi Taylor!”  They said back in their early teen voices.  “That was an awesome performance!”

“Well thank you!  Speaking of my performance, I heard you found something out about my performance later tonight.  Is that right?”

The Swifties nodded their heads yes.

“Hmmmm… And who told you this?”  She asked the Scouts.

“We have this cool older friend—an Arianator friend.  She’s trying to become an influencer so she’s always posting videos about famous people she meets, she mostly posts about Ariana Grande, anyway, like, we saw it posted on her Snapchat, and then later also on her Instagram and then also on her YouTube channel.  She recorded a video and posted it everywhere.  But then she mysteriously made it private right after posting it, which is something she, like, never does.  But we’re still friends with her—She must have forgotten that, anyway, so we can still see it, even though it’s private.”

“Oh?  Can you show me the video?”  Taylor asked.

“Yeah!  Here!”  One of them took out a phone and clicked away, navigating to the short one-minute video that had been posted.

The teen Arianator had secretly posted the selfie video when she asked to use the bathroom at Oak Felder’s Spaceship studio as tagged in the location.

The video began to play.

‘Oh my god!  So I was just in the world’s largest shoe closet, it’s amazing, more on that later in a future video on my YouTube channel, I took some craaaaazy photos you’ll never believe.  Anyway, I’m about to go on a helicopter to Kanye West’s house because we have to, like, go pick him up or something because he has to like interrupt Taylor Swift’s speech at the AMAs, I don’t know, ermygod like whatever booooring Znooooze lolz who cares about all that…  BUT YOU WILL NEVER BELIEVE THIS!!! I GET TO MEET KIM KARDASHIAN!  O to the M to the G!!!!  I’m SOOOO excited to meet KIM KARDASHIAN!  I’m LITTERALLY FREAKIN’ OUT here PEOPLE!!!!  OMG, does my eyeliner look okay?  OMG, there’s like lint in my hair, how long as that been there?  Ewww, gross.  Okay, I’ll post a selfie as soon as I can with Kim!  Byeeeeeeee LOVEEEEEEEEEEE!  LIKE SHARE SUB!  ARIANA GRANDE 4 LIFE!’

The video ended.

Taylor made a serious face as she spoke to the Youngies.  “Thank you for showing me that.  You two did the right thing to bring that to my attention.  Do you know if she said anything else?”

“Ummm… There was another post that she deleted, I think it mentioned something about feeling like she was in a spy movie because an insider from the AMAs was going to help Kanye and she went on a rant about how the only sidekick Kanye needs is Kim, but she never said the insider’s name.  She just kept saying ‘Kim this’ and ‘Kim that’ and going on and on about Kimye.  She’s Kardashisessed.”

           “Oh?  And what is Kardashisessed?”  Taylor asked.

           “Obsessed with all things Kardashian.  She’s always been like that though. Since the first day we met her.”

           The two Youngies exchanged a look and rolled their eyes.

“Well, you two have been very helpful Swifties!”  Taylor paused and smiled at them, then made a face as though she were thinking very hard.  “Gee, how can I reward you for this, Oh, I know!”  Taylor’s eyes twinkled and she beamed a smile at the two Youngie Swiftie Scouts, “How would both of you like to come on stage with me tonight?”

“Really?”  They squealed with glee.

“Sure.”  She said pointing over at the other kids that had just rehearsed with Taylor during the opening song of her medley.

“Oh my god!  Taylor, you’re our favorite!”

“AWWWWW.”  She made a heart symbol with her thumbs and pointer fingers and they made the same symbol back at her.

           “We’ll just have to make sure it’s okay with your parents, but as long as they consent to it—”

The two Youngie Swifties parents standing nearby listening to the entire conversation agreed immediately.

“This is the best moment of my whole life!  We love you Taylor!”  They jumped up and hugged her.

She laughed and then sent them over to learn the dance moves.  

She turned back to her attorney.  “Let him!  Hah!  See how far he gets.  He’s not on the invite list anyway.”  She said to Sara.

“Okay, we’ll just ratchet up security, make sure everyone knows to keep a look out for Kanye.”

“I think that works.  It will be fine, Sara.”  Taylor said waving to the two Youngies making friends with the other Swiftie Youngies.

“What do you think about the second part, the insider?”  Sara asked.

Taylor thought for a minute.  “I don’t think we should say anything to anyone.”

Selena Gomez, just having sat back in her seat, glanced over—She was just on the edge of being within earshot of the conversation.

Sara and Taylor lowered their voices, “Let’s just see what people are talking about, keep a close ear to as many people as you can and see if someone says anything that might give us a clue.  And then we’ll approach them, personally.  Have a little chat with them.”

Jeff suddenly yelled from the stage, “Where’s Billie?  Does anyone know where Billie is?  BILLLIE EILISH!  WHERE IS BILLIE EILISH???”

“I think she went to go make a phone call or Face time her brother, Finneas, or something, I think that’s what she said.”  Selena said from her seat.

“Well we need her on stage!  I want to run her number just one more time to get the fire part right.  Can someone go find her please!?”

“I’ll go find her!”

“Thank you!  But hurry back, Halsey, because I have some notes for you!”  Jeff yelled after Halsey as she walked off in search of Billie.  Halsey could be heard saying something about what Jeff could do with the notes he had for her, it sounded unpleasant—Halsey doesn’t take notes.

Sara wandered around casually listening to conversations here and there.  She felt like a hunter looking for prey.  It was the complete opposite of her youth, middle school and high school especially.  She was quiet growing up, mostly kept to herself and read books.  Middle school was more of the same, although, her first crush—who had no idea she was her first crush and still has no idea to this day—made it a little less lonely.  High school was awful because her crush moved away, they kept in touch but it wasn’t the same, eventually they stopped talking.  She exceled in every class but found that being the smartest one around made things even more lonely as everyone kind of thought of her as just a nerdy brainiac that only cared about homework all the time.

Then came the boys and all kinds of rumors after she rejected every advance from each and every one of them.  Yes, those “Rumors”.  Beauty and booksmarts, and she wasn’t one of those stereotypical booksmart perfect grades wimpy kids, she was athletic too; women’s lacrosse, softball, swimming, ran track, and every other sport she was allowed to participate in.  There was no shortage of boys interested in her.  I mean, she knew, she knew from the moment she had her first crush. Her parents probably knew but she wasn’t going to tell them at the time, although she finally did in college; it didn’t go over very well.  Sara’s dad and her were still able to maintain some kind of father daughter relationship for the most part centered on their chess matches.  Sara was a chess aficionado thanks to all those early lessons from her dad, who was also an aficionado.  Her father had originally wanted her to become a professional chess champion, world’s number one—He was happy with her becoming an attorney.  But he was going to be happy with whatever she decided because she was going to do what she wanted, not what hewanted.

The worst happened when she was cornered on her way to sit by herself at lunch one day and then asked to one of the biggest dances of the year by the guy all the girls swooned over.  It was right after being the only one to ace a test in her AP Calculus class.  Of course she turned him down and he didn’t take her rejection of him very well.  The very next day a group of girls decided to tell everyone she was sleeping with the calc teacher and that was why she received the only perfect score on several tests in addition to the most recent one.  She was brought into the principal’s office and questioned by an investigating police officer who made her sit there in front of the teacher as well as others of the administration and place in writing that the rumor was false.  It was one of the most humiliating and embarrassing experiences of her life.  Then there was the walk of shame back to class after, every eye on her was still completely convinced she was just keeping what happened a secret—That’s when it all started, the cutting, anorexia, anxiety, panic attacks, body dysmorphic disorder and so many hours spent in therapy trying to fix it, fix her.  She was seemingly hunted the rest of high school, less than observant guys would continue to hit on her as she only became even more beautiful nearly by the day, and the other girls came up with new and creative ways to torment her.  Graduation couldn’t come soon enough.

And look at her now, accomplished, an attorney to some of the biggest names in showbiz!

Sara had movie star looks, and she probably could have been a movie star if she wanted to, but she was just more interested in the world of law.  In college Sara reconnected with her middle school crush, as pen pals.  They started talking again freshman year of college and she found that her crush was studying pre law, so she decided to take a law class as an elective and join a debate team.  That lasted for a semester until, of course, then she found out her crush had met someone, and it became all her crush talked about—this boy.  She felt the same dread and sadness, the emptiness returning from her high school days.  Someone she had put so much into turned out to be, pointless.  It’s just, she didn’t want to talk about him, she wanted to talk about, the usual things going on in the life of her crush.  But, it became obvious that what was going on in her life was… him.  Someone she had built up in her head, and mistakenly put on a pedestal, turned out to cause her nothing but jealousy and then pain and anger when it all came crashing down—when ALL her crush talked about was this stupid boy and how much she was in love with him.  That’s when Sara started working out more than she usually did, running, swimming, going to the gym daily.  Sara made her fitness schedule, in addition to her athletic commitments and various clubs AND studies her excuse as to why she couldn’t talk to her old crush anymore.  She just kept saying she was busy all the time.  Eventually the long lost middle school crush returned once again to being long lost.  Her interest in law and debating stuck and she soon found herself helping any friend who had a legal or law related problem.  Funny how something from your past, even if lost and gone, can be a bridge to something in your future.  It was soon after that she found that she felt fixed by fixing things for others.  As long as she was fighting a war, she didn’t have to fight her own personal battles.  

She looked over at Taylor.  Taylor was her favorite war so far.  Fighting for Taylor kept her battles buried the deepest they have ever been.  And she wanted them to stay buried for as long as possible.  Which meant, this war needed to continue as long as possible.  Sara also just, well, she liked being around Taylor, it reminded her of being around her middle school crush early on, back when they would work on school projects together, she loved that, she loved this, and just being around her was enough.

Really, Sara’s war wouldn’t end until the patriarch ended, until toxic masculinity had been blasted in its entirety from every inch of the entertainment industry.  Even after Taylor’s war was won, she would continue fighting until it was done.  But for now, Taylor’s fight was enough.

[ask-turin-turambar]

Turin’s Journal Entry #01

I have decided to keep a record of my days here in the wilderness, outside the bounds of the Valar’s realm. Mayhaps t’will help me settle my mind in a way that e’en the Lords Irmo and Namo could not; and should’t not, then shall’t be a record and memento of my existence. I left the Halls of Mandos three weeks ago; no more could I stand to remain there. Eru guide me, but I am not of the Eldalie, mere Atani that I am. The silence, the empty loneliness, the sheer desolation midst such finery and comfort. E’en such visits as I got failed to break the ennui and despair. In the name of Eru, peace and solitude are boons but for Atani to be alone eternally is sheer torture. So in the end I left. South from the Halls I went, to the mountains of the Pelori. It has taken me to this day to pass over; many a time I feared lest I should fall to my death, or be frozen by the biting cold. Yet it seems that still the grace of the Valar rests upon me, for no hunger nor thirst have I felt nor injuries last; as ever when I wake of a morn my body is hale and hearty as ever it has been, no matter what befalleth it prior.

I close this entry here, as I sit in this shallow cave - nay, to call this scraping of rock a cave is to dignify it beyond its dues - and wait for the storms to pass. Eru alone knows what lands and what being dwelleth beyond the southern walls of the Pelori. In His name I pray - grant that this be my healing, my cure for the heaviness within my soul.

[regretsdelusionstoughluck]

PART 3

WEDNESDAY MORNING

While Damon was online looking for odd jobs he noticed an add for dancers needed. He’s had a stripper license since he was 19 and used this as a means for extra money when not deployed. He sent this to Oliver in an email prior to calling him on his way to the pharmacy.

“Morning”

“Check out the email”

As he pulled out his iPad, he saw the email

“What the fuck is this?”

“Strippin....you already do way more,  plus a bachelorette party would get you a killing. I used to dance at a few of them when I was home”

“Got anything else?”

“Banquets, I know a lot of companies. I can send you a list of catering companies you could do work for. What you got going on right now?”

“Laying on the couch, going into the office”

[Really? That’s the best you got? What part of “I want out of this life do you not understand?]

While he wasn’t thrilled about it, he took some time to think about t and he realized that bachelorette parties are for the entertainment value and he did keep his body in shape. However, didn’t want his current situation to mirror that of “The Players Club”.

Oliver got up from the couch to fix himself an omelette while continuing to talk. “Yo, I got you on speaker phone, doing some stuff in the kitchen”

“Man, remember when we were young and we would see vacationers out here, we vowed that one day it would be us taking trips with our families?”

“I do, and when I look at where I’m at, I think to myself “What the actual fuck?”

[We were lied to. In 2008, when we were in high school, we were told to go to college. That it was the ticket to a successful life. What they didn’t tell us is that the economy would tank. They didn’t go cover any alternatives. They never went over the cost of living and the fact that people here are working three jobs. I should have seen this with my own parents. Dad worked for the state and then worked as a janitor in the evenings. Mom still works as a financial aid officer at a state college. The preparation sucked. What the fuck am I gonna use creative writing for? Why was that in school?]

He cut the conversation short to eat his breakfast and get a shower in before work. Afterwards, he ironed a pair of pants and a golf shirt and heaved to the office where the direction informed him and Claudia:

“I have a project for the two of you. Our event is coming up at the mall. You two are going to be drawing outlines to these animal pieces on the construction poet right there. We’re expecting about 200 kids”

“No problem” Oliver said looking at the green construction paper in front of him

“It’ll be a breeze” Claudia assured him as she took a pair of scissors and the elephant trunk and demonstrated. 

“So it’s like build a bear type of think but with other animals but they’re decorating their bags with them. That’s cute”

“Yeah, so are you gonna go to the career fair next week”

“The one at the convention center?”

“Yea, I heard there’s going to be several companies there.”

[Resume-FEMA, fucking, and non-profit]

“I plan on it. Do you know if any government agencies are gonna be there? I couldn’t find a roster anywhere”

“Not sure”

They continued working while talking about goals and aspirations when he noticed an alert on her phone. Knowing the conference due to getting the same alert an hour earlier, he asked her how she knew about it? Somewhat embarrassed, she snapped “What are you doing looking at my phone?!”

“I merely glanced over!” he exclaimed before taking her aside and confessing to being involved in the worlds oldest profession “I hate it. One would think attractive people and pleasure but there’s no real live and frankly it feels like a modern version of slavery. I can’t get a decent date to save my life”

After a moment of silence, she admitted that she was a phone sex operator and that she worked in evenings. “I have a friend who also is in high class escorting”

“High class?”

“Let’s talk about it later? How about we meet for a drink after work? We need to get a bit more of this done.”

Meanwhile, Damon was scouting on the web when his eye caught the attention of a webcam modeling website.

 He though about his current life and how he’d mange to file his taxes. He normally got a 1090 at the end of the year. He also though about the repercussions of this and the thought that the clientele could  be from his local area. He had a flashback to being deployed in Germany where he and some buds where in a night club, partying surrounded by beautiful women. “We are like royalty!”  He thought about a conversation he had with his peer about wanting to serve for eight years and then retire and start college. Little did he know that half way though that time frame that he’d suffer a back injury along w/ PTSD from witnessing the death of a friend at the hands of a grenade.

He applied for work with multiple agencies and thought about how he could sporadically work vs checking in daily. With webcam modeling he could set his own schedule. With that in mind he decided to text Oliver.

“Who was that?”

“My friend Damon”

“So about how long have you with with this company?”

“About six months. I’m trying to start grad school”

They chatted while filing paperwork. They talked about politics, racial issues, economic issues, and the like. Claudia made for good company. She graduated with two degrees. She majored in English Education and Journalism and worked as a teacher’s aide for a period. She was tired of the work with virtually no pay. She responded to an add. Currently she works for a phone sex. One has seen the commercials late at night. She’s one of them. Definitely more conventional than Oliver’s current job. 

As he was getting ready to eat lunch, she Claudia asked him if he wanted to eat while they worked. “Sure” he said as he went to grab his lunch out of his bag. 

“We work with several schools in their special ed departments”

“What do y’all do?”

”We will be finalizing contracts for events mainly. But we do outreach and after school programs on social etiquette and speech practices our goal is to  help those with autism be as integrated into society as possible” Noticing Oliver’s garden salad, she asked him “you health conscious?”

“Yep. Grew up like that. My parent’s rarely fried anything, but they didn’t ban them from the house. My mom was always big on vitamins and drinking plenty of water. I practice that today, to keep things under control. Being a diabetic, I have to watch it.”

Shocked at the revelation she asked him when he was diagnosed. He was diagnosed at 6 years old.

“I’m trying to lose weight, but I find myself emotionally eating more than I should”

Trying to avoid saying anything that could be interpreted as offensive, he simply said that he had his days too, hence the reason he goes to the gym six days/week, doing a combination of cardio and weights. After they finished eating lunch, they cut more construction paper and bagged it. They filed folders away for about an hour when Oliver signed out.”See you tomorrow?”

“You’ll see me in a couple of hours.”

The sun was beaming as Oliver drove home. He rolled down his window and plugged his phone in to have some music playing. He checked the mail and saw the electric bill was in. “Shouldn’t be this much” he said “I’m never home”

He checked his email as well as his escorting profile receiving three request including one overnight stay. Booking these trips back to back, he thought about his weekly check at $8.75/hr at 25 hrs per week along w/ the money from the three client’s that he’d earn. He’d have enough to pay his final payment on his only student loan and to pay his car note.

He kicked off his shoes to give his feet some air and called his mom.

[I’m being nice. This place is a shithole, in fact the only reason my unit isn’t laden with roaches is because I frequently buy those foggers and then I have to open the damn windows and door risking my shit being stolen. Also, Bengal and Boric Acid along the cracks and corners have done wonders.]

He looked up and realized that it was time to meet Claudia. He traded in his work outfit for a pair or black cargo shorts, a zero-nineteen tank top from K-Mart, and a pair of flip-flops and headed out. He got in the truck, turned the air on and arrived to the bar 20 minutes later. Locating Claudia at a table in the bar area we walked in to meet her when the waiter took their drink order.

[She’s a pharmacy tech and she still needs to be a lady of the evening by night? I’m fucked-literally and figuratively]

She advised him to update his profile to include massages and casual dates at a lower rate. While they were talking, A woman walks up, dark skin, about 5′9, in her mid 20s. She spotted Claudia and walked in the sit next to her.

“Hey chick!”

“Hey!”

“Hello, I’m Aya, how are your doing?” she said as she reached out to shake Oliver’s hand

“Oliver, I’m good. How about you?”

“So this is the guy? He’s cute”

“He’s taken”

“Actually I’m very available”

After ordering a drink, she begin to explain to Oliver how she got into her current part time job.  “I started off escorting however a client of mine introduced me to a coworker of his that owned a matchmaking service. I showed up to a mixer I went out on one date. I never saw the guy again afterwards. That said, he did mention to me that he had utilized services where one would rent a dates for events. I eventually branched off and begin advertising on craigslist and the like.”

“So do you still...….you  know?”

“Sporadically, but that’ll cost extra.”

Later that night, he decided to update his profile w/ additional services offered. He decided to try out a couple of speed dating events himself. He might even snap a client or two.  Perhaps, he’d been looking in the wrong places, maybe it was time for more upscale social functions. His current evening work was not a glamorous job and frankly it was quite dangerous. 

[Prostitution can be traced back as far as biblical times. Not a new profession and it’s a profession that’s always been available for the money. Sometimes, we use it to pay off a loan or some sort of debt. For others, it’s the love of sex. Some just like the temporary luxury that comes with being one’s bitch. Me? I’d like nothing more than to settle down. I know there’s a way. It may take a while to find it, but I refuse to have THIS be my stop.]

STORY SYNOPSIS

CHARACTERS

PART 4 TO FOLLOW

[sexwiththepast-blog]

Retour sur place

Un canapé-lit large avec volutes rouges. Tu retrouves les deux types qui l'avaient livré. L'un d'entre-eux ressemblait à un de tes amis. Il ne lui ressemble plus, mais c'est bien lui.

Montreuil rejointe à l'aube par la ligne 9. Le marché couvert à Croix de Chavaux assurément désert. Plus tard, en remontant l'avenue de la Résistance, tu tombes sur les croissants fourrés à la pâte abricot de la station BP.

Sur la photo qu'on te tend, tu portes le t-shirt mauve avec lequel tu ressemblais à Romain. Elle, telle Gradiva en tenue d'été. Sur la table, le Côtes-de-Blaye dégotté chez le caviste. On devine la joie, on hume le risotto. Ce qui te ramène au reste de la soirée : Lou Reed, le Ballantine's, les corps nus. Le bout du bout de la nuit. L'au-revoir sur le palier. Aux aurores, en repartant, le type qui t'arrête et te demande de l'argent.

Dix jours après, les parages revisités. Le café-PMU où tu attends de jour — où tu attends en vain. De nouveau, le croissant fourré à l'abricot. Le jardinet au pied de l'immeuble ordinaire. La voisine méfiante. Les enfants et le chien. L'interphone sans réponse. L'appartement finalement, avec vue. Le portrait de jeune homme dans l'entrée. Les rideaux blanc cassé. La chambre verte, aux livres bien rangés. Le souvenir de Stefan Zweig.

À l'opposé de là, le mois suivant, trois questions au conducteur de RER. La musique d'un film que tu connais. La rencontre inopinée rue du Faubourg-Saint-Denis avec l'équipe au complet. Du côté de Jussieu, la marche sous la pluie. Le petit poing brandi.

Jusqu'au printemps dernier. L'annonce dans le journal. Toi devant le bahut où tu crois savoir qu'elle enseigne. La fragrance Yves Saint-Laurent. Le cartable abandonné que tu ramasses. La faculté, où elle s'était essayée au squash. Les traces de la grand-mère à Gabès, la mère à Villeurbanne. Les expériences de chimie, la blouse neuve. La tarte aux framboises, le parmesan entier. Les SMS nécessaires (mais pas d'archive). Le caraco léopard. Les olives à l'ail. La brosse à dents achetée passé minuit. Son nom de Venise comme dans Calcutta. Le Chianti, le San Marco, la forêt noire et les beaux draps. La silhouette callipyge dans le noir. À vol d'oiseau non loin, la Sainte-Victoire.

[Texte écrit dans le cadre de l’atelier de François Bon : vers un écrire-film #4]