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saiki-in-jsl · 5 years ago

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Baby Sister Kuriko AU that I really wanted to write (2k)

This was mostly a fun fic, and it ends pretty abruptly. That’s because I’m planning to make this multi-chaptered on my ao3 at some point.

This whole story follows little Kuriko and big brother Kusuo during Kuriko’s baby months. Enjoy.

Kusuo knew he was staring at her too much and his parents weren’t even sure if he was blinking.

It only felt like yesterday when Saiki Kuriko was born, mostly because she was born just yesterday. When news got out that his mother was pregnant with another baby, both Kusuo and Kusuke broke into cold sweat, worried that the new child would be just as gifted as the two of them, or perhaps even more. What if she surpassed the both of them combined? How would they handle it?

With that being said, one might’ve thought all that staring was just Kusuo trying to predict if Kuriko was special after all, but in actual fact, he was just fascinated. Kuriko was small, and thin since she was a newborn, but most importantly, she was fragile. It was...weird, seeing a sibling of his look so defenseless.

A week went by, and so far, there were no signs of Kuriko developing any powers or superhuman intelligence. Kusuke visited them after another week went by, much to Kusuo’s displeasure, and had brought a device with him. Apparently he had invented a gadget that would detect any abnormality in a person, and to prove it worked, he pointed it at Kusuo, pressing a button.

The device was the size of a handphone, and it reminded Kusuo of those phones with only two buttons on them that could only call emergency numbers. Once Kusuke had pressed the button, the little screen blinked green, along with a rough description of Kusuo’s psychic powers. Then he pointed it at himself and pressed the button again, the screen blinked green and displayed a description of his intelligence.

Finally, he pointed it at Kuriko, who was still asleep in her crib and slightly curled, and pressed the button. After a moment of anticipation, the screen blinked red and everyone gasped but also sighed, a mixture of relief and surprise welled up inside them.

They were so sure she would turn out special, they didn’t really know what to do if she turned out normal. So when she did turn out normal, everyone was pretty much speechless. It felt a bit anticlimactic.

“Welp, that’s all, I need to head back now,” Kusuke bid them goodbye, even though he just got here. “Kusuo, won’t you teleport me home?”

Kusuo shot him a blank look.

“Aha, okay,” Kusuke sighed, heading out through the door.

Kusuo returned to staring at his sister, now twice as fascinated. Kuriko was going to grow up normal, something he wished he could’ve done, and he envied her. It dawned upon him that this would mean that she would be more prone to problems, such as injuries, which suddenly sent him into a momentary inward panic mode.

He calmed down pretty quickly, shaking his head slightly to rid of those thoughts. Obviously, as the older brother, he could protect her, so there won’t be any problems at all. There was no way Kuriko was going to get hurt, even if he was very far away, he’d make sure of that.

The first time he heard Kuriko cry was dead at night while everyone was asleep. He had been the first one awake and the first one to arrive in her room. Both his parents stumbled into the room right after, looking dreadfully tired and his mother had picked the baby up, patting her back gently.

“Don’t worry, you can go back to bed,” his mother yawned, calming Kuriko down. The baby was still sobbing despite her mother’s efforts, but eventually she did stop loudly yelling.

Kusuo wondered if he should do something, but decided to go back to bed in the end, it wasn’t like psychic abilities could make his sister stop crying.

Ah wait, it could. Oh well.

The second time it happened, Kuriko was already old enough to start kicking and punching roughly, so it wasn’t a surprise when she managed to kick her father in the face when he tried to console her. As amusing as it was, Kusuo knew he had to do something, and he was practically the only one who could withstand the baby’s punches, so he picked her up with ease.

Is she hungry? Kusuo turned to his dad, who was still rubbing his cheek from where Kuriko had landed her foot at.

“Probably. I’ll get your mother.” He said, exiting the baby’s room to head to the kitchen.

The third time she started screaming, Kusuo had expected it to happen and was already there to pick her up. At this point, he was pretty sure he had carried her more than his dad. He just couldn’t help it, Kuriko worried him a lot sometimes. There were times she was motionless and Kusuo would panic, thinking she had somehow forgotten to breathe.

It was hard to tell what Kuriko was thinking at times, since her brain hadn’t developed fully yet, so it always took awhile to decipher the reason why she started crying, but it never stopped him from trying every time.

He paled, slowly glancing up at the ceiling, knowing fully well what would be there.

A roach.

And suddenly he was in a foreign country with Kuriko in his arms. She had calmed down when Kusuo picked her up earlier, but since he had teleported, she couldn’t wrap her baby mind around the sudden new surroundings. So expected, she was startled and started crying again.

Everyone around them turned his way, confused as to how they didn’t notice him there before, and he awkwardly jogged away to somewhere more secluded. He needed to wait three minutes before going back home.

Kuriko gripped his shirt tight, her crying slowing into short sniffles and whimpers. Kusuo sighed, rubbing her back gently as he waited for his timer to be up. He should be annoyed, really, but all he felt was panic and worry.

When he managed to teleport home, Kuriko was still clinging to him, and when he tried to place her down, she shrieked, making weird gurgling noises.

This is fine. He thought, plopping down on the ground while she stared up at him with her soft round eyes. You were scared, so it’s understandable why you want to stay with me longer.

Then she did something he had never seen her do before. She smiled, her little lips curling up at him, and she made a noise that sounded like a giggle. His heart melted right at that moment and he smiled back, cradling her some more. He loved her. He loved her a lot.

There wasn’t a day where Kusuo would spend even an hour away from Kuriko. He often teleported back home from school to check on Kuriko, or even play with her, before heading back to school. It became a routine for them to see each other during Kusuo’s breaks, so she got used to seeing him pop into the room before popping back out. She used to cry whenever he suddenly disappeared despite hearing him say goodbye.

It came to a point their mother had to tell Kusuo to stop coming home all the time just to spend time with Kuriko.

“Your sister can’t be your only friend forever, she’ll have her own friends someday too, so go make your own,” his mother nagged after catching Kusuo in Kuriko’s room again and making all of her toys float for her entertainment.

Kusuo responded to this with a frown, and he reduced his visits after that. He still snuck home, but not all the time anymore. It didn’t concern Kuriko too much, so all was fine.

Kuriko learning how to crawl made Kusuo’s heart swell and his mind panic. She followed him everywhere in the house, and since her room was located on the second floor, they had to put a baby gate at the stairs to prevent her from tumbling down or crawling up.

So whenever she woke up from her nap and wanted to see her brother, the whole family would often hear her yelling from the top of the stairs and gripping the bars of the gate for her brother’s attention.

During the first few weeks of her crawling, Kusuo had opted to float around the house to avoid stepping on her on accident, even though he knew fully well he wouldn’t, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. He did stop eventually, mainly because Kuriko kept tugging on his pants to pull him down every time she got close enough.

Aside from the fact she knew how to get around herself now, she was now old enough to join the rest of her family at the dinner table in a highchair. Occasionally, Kusuo would help feed her, but most of the time his mother would handle that. Once or twice he was caught feeding her cake, which his mother really didn’t like.

“Ahh!” Kuriko yelled, wrapping her arms around Kusuo’s leg while he sat on the couch with a book in hand. He lifted his eyes off the book and looked down, watching her wave a little picture book of her own, with small finger puppets stuck to the book to make it more entertaining for children.

It wasn’t the first time she had asked him to read to her. The first ever book that captured her attention was the same book she was waving at him to read for her right now, they were shopping for children’s books to help Kuriko in learning, and Kusuo had been the one to carry her while they browsed.

All he did was pick the book up and she was immediately making grabbing gestures and grunting.

Smiling, Kusuo bent down to pick his sister up and placed her on his lap like he always did, opening the book and slotting his finger into the finger puppet.

From a young age, Kusuo knew he had issues speaking out loud, but ever since Kuriko started understanding words, he never once had an issue talking to her. Perhaps it was the fact that Kuriko herself couldn’t form proper thoughts yet, therefore her thoughts were quiet.

Which was why he could easily read the story out loud for her as if she was the only person in this room and in the world.

Kuriko learning how to stand was an issue, because every time she tried to stand, Kusuo would already be there picking her up. He was just worried she’d fall down and hit her head, despite the numerous reassurance he’d get from his parents that she wouldn’t. Even his clairvoyance could confirm she would be fine.

But no matter what, every time he caught Kuriko struggling to her feet and gripping the couch tight, he would immediately swoop her into his arms. The first few times she stared at him in confusion, but now all she did was get angry and bounce in his arms, making noises.

“If her standing worries you so much, why don’t you just hold her hands while she stands?” Kusuke snorted through a video call on the TV. Kuriko stared at him mesmerized, she had never met him formally before, so they had to constantly remind her that he was her brother. It didn’t really go through to her properly, but one day she’d understand.

As much as Kusuo hated to take advice from his brother, his suggestion was pretty smart. Typical Kusuke for thinking up a simple solution. So the next time Kuriko tried standing, Kusuo had gently taken her hands into his and held them while she stood upright.

He made sure his grip wasn’t too tight, and Kuriko was so excited she started to bounce on her feet, giggling madly before getting tired and falling back onto the ground gently.

Because of this, Kuriko learnt that she could stand as much as she wanted to just by asking Kusuo to hold her hands. Sometimes he’d even let her stand on his feet while he walked so it’d seem like she was walking too.

Kusuo wasn’t prone to laughter, but sometimes hearing his sister laugh made him chuckle too. He knew what made Kuriko laugh the most, and it was a bubble bath, so Kusuo was sometimes assigned to watch her soak in the bathtub while his mother was busy in the kitchen.

He’d use his powers to make the bubbles float about, sometimes even making them pop right in front of her because those somehow always drew the breathiest laugh out of her.

“Uuuuu,” Kuriko murmured, fists curling and uncurling as she bounced around in her highchair. “Oooooo.”

Kusuo looked up, mildly confused yet intrigued. She had been making noises for three minutes straight already, and it almost sounded as if she was trying to say something--

“Kuwo!” Kuriko finally blurted, her eyes shining and immediately looking over at her brother. Kusuo blinked, eyes slowly widening. She laughed, slapping her hands on the little table attached to the highchair, “Kuwo! Kuwo! Kuwo!”

“Of course her first word is your name!” His dad groaned, throwing his hands in the air in defeat. “Riko-kun, can you say ‘dada’?”

“Kuwo!”

Their father proceeded to sulk.

Kusuo stared at his sister, walking closer to her as she kept bouncing and yelling his name. He smiled, and oh his eyes felt a bit weird. They stung.

Ah, he was crying.

Crying from happiness really was a real thing then.

Kuriko learned how to walk when Kusuo entered second year of highschool and surprisingly enough, he wasn’t too worried because she knew how to handle herself properly when she ran around the house. What actually caused Kusuo to panic was the fact that this meant Kuriko was allowed to go to the park as often as she wanted to now, and running around in the park was a lot more dangerous than at home.

He trusted his mother would take care of her well, obviously, but he still got worried and distracted during school just thinking about it.

Not to mention that he had somehow obtained friends, something he didn’t really want because he much preferred his sister’s bubbly yet quiet presence. They clung to him tight, and he didn’t know how to break it to them that he wanted to go home and see his sister instead of getting ramen with Kaidou and Nendou.

Nevertheless, he allowed them to pull him around, but it didn’t mean Kusuo enjoyed it

“Nii-san! Niiiii-saaaaaan!” Oh Kusuo did not expect to hear his sister’s voice so soon. Apparently today was park day as well. His two friends turned their head to the little voice yelling from the playground beside them in confusion, wondering who the voice was being directed at.

Immediately, Kusuo dropped to his knees, arms spread wide before a little girl came barreling into his arms, shoes squeaking like rubber duckies as she did.

Kusuo pressed a quick peck on her forehead and she clung onto him tight as he stood up, carrying her in his arms. His mother waved at him from the park bench and he nodded back.

“Oh, who’s the little one?” Nendou laughed, leaning in close to get a closer look. Instinctively, Kusuo leaned backwards and away, sensing discomfort from Kuriko.

She dug her face into the crook of his neck, hiding her face away from his friends.

My little sister, Kuriko, Kusuo patted her head.

“You have little siblings too?” Kaidou asked, keeping his distance upon noticing Kuriko’s shyness.

Kusuo nodded, Go on ahead without me, I’ll be spending time with her now.

“If you say so,” Kaidou mumbled, then he smiled at Kuriko when he noticed her peaking at them. “Hi, I’m Kaidou. Otherwise known as Jet Black Wings! But I doubt you’d know the severity of that title, so don’t worry so much about it.”

She flushed, hiding her face again.

“Well it was nice meeting you,” Kaidou smiled. “Alright, see you around then!”

Nendou waved as well, not quite sure how to communicate with a baby. He always thought they were something like pets, but Kuriko wasn’t like a hamster at all to be honest.

If Kusuo knew that Nendou had compared his sister to a hamster, there would’ve been a slight chance of Nendou’s existence being erased. Not that he actually would do that to Nendou, of course.

#the disasterous life of saiki k #saiki kusuo no psi nan #saiki kusuo no ψ nan #saiki kusou #saiki kusuke #nendou riki #kaidou shun

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obsidianfr3sk · 4 years ago

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Rise of the Renegades (Chapter 1)

Summary: Heroes come from the most unexpected places. Heroes sometimes feel a little too different, a little too scared, a little too alone. But heroes also know when enough is enough, and that before saving the world, they need to save themselves. And they cannot do it alone.

They were going to be the hope of the world. They were going to call themselves the Renegades. Even if they didn't know it yet.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246812/chapters/63886654

I needed to posted this now or I would never do it:))) what did y’all say? “this bitch won’t write again”???? surprise!!! sucks to be you, rules to be me (?)

for those who don’t know, this is a direct continuation from my other fic The Origins, so if you’re interested on this one, you should read the other first! But if your a freaking punk... then, welcome to my fic (?) it’s going to be all about the first year of the OG renegades as superheros, how they became friends, and that stuff. Maybe Ace will make an important appearance, idk, everything can happen. I hope you like it as much as you liked the last one c:

Tag list: @nodrianbcyes @healing-winston-pratt @alecjamesartino @blueraspberry-official @novas-tunnel-of-anxiety @magykaldealings @jacihayle

The Lost Voice

Age of Anarchy

Year 10. Month 10

Kick me under the table all you want,

I won’t shut up.

Simon

It was quarter past eight when their father told Simon and Sophie dinner was served. His sister had her nose stuck in a gothic novel that used language too complex for an eight-year-old girl to understand, and his father sipped his dark coffee, looking through yesterday's newspaper. Simon pretended to be reading the first volume of The Scarlet Enchantress and the Phantom Feline for the eighth time, but really, he was completely absorbed in his thoughts.

He had never hated dinners at his house as much as he did at that moment.

The worst thing is that it had not always been this way. He was still able to remember the controversial topics Laura brought up at the table. “Dad, what do you think about what the mayor did today?” “Mom, did you hear about yesterday's protest?” “What are we going to do about Ace Anarchy?”

His mother almost always agreed with Laura's opinion. His father, on the other hand, made jokes that were inappropriate for the situation. Even his youngest sister participated, while in her mother's womb. Simon joked that when she was born, she would be as “loud and annoying” as Laura. His parents burst out laughing and Laura gave him a bad look.

“Don't call me loud and annoying, Simon,” his older sister scolded. “I am the only ray of light in the midst of anarchy.”

She may have been joking. But for him, she was a ray of light in his life.

All the light left their house along with them. Mom died giving birth to her third daughter after she started bleeding out and there was no time to get to a hospital. Laura said that she had never seen her father cry like that day. All he said was, “Gabriela, oh, Gabriela, my love, please wake up.”

She didn't wake up and he never laughed again.

Laura. His older sister was stocky, with curly hair and olive skin like his. She had a smile that could please even the saddest of hearts.

The light in the midst of anarchy.

What the hell had happened to Laura?

What the hell had happened to Simon?

But most of all, what the hell had happened to their dinners?

Not that he wasn't used to it. In fact, he was so used to dining in silence that when Hugh invited him over to his house for lunch, the fact that he and his aunt kept talking and asking him questions struck him as strange.

So much light inhibited him.

He learned (a little the hard way) to appreciate silence.

However, now all he wanted was for someone to speak. Someone saying something to get him out of his thoughts for good. No matter what kind of conversation it was, Simon was willing to talk about the fucking weather as long as he didn't keep asking himself the same question over and over.

“But what if we did?”

Both of them. Beat Ace Anarchy.

Please.

And yes, it was ridiculous. Simon had even laughed and told Hugh to stop being an idiot, believing that the conversation would end there. But Hugh spent the rest of the afternoon talking about it, so convinced, so sure of his words, that Simon began to hear inside his head a voice that he thought he had lost a long time ago.

But what if you joked during dinner again?

But what if you gave your opinion when the teachers ask you to?

But what if you were the light in the middle of the anarchy?

He shot a glance at Sophie. She was the complete opposite of Simon (and Laura): Sophie had pale skin and straight hair, like their father. No one would have ever believed they were siblings if it weren't for the fact that they had the same dark eyes.

He wondered if she had that voice inside her head. Probably she did. She was a kid. Kids used to be more gullible about that kind of thing, right?

Perhaps it was a voice that you lost over the years.

Although he doubted Hugh had lost his voice. Simon would be jealous of him if it weren't for the fact that the voice was way too annoying.

He had to shut it up somehow.

Simon took a deep breath.

Then, for the first time in eight years, he spoke to his father during dinner.

“Dad, do you think I could defeat Ace Anarchy?”

His father stopped reading at that point. He looked up at him as if Simon were pointing a gun at him. Sophie kicked him under the table.

He knew it immediately. He shouldn't have done that.

“Give me that comic,” his father ordered.

Simon obeyed and handed it to his father. He started flipping through the pages frantically, looking for a single mention of Ace Anarchy in it, like he did with all the comics Simon brought home.

He didn't know how to feel about it. By this time in his life, John Westwood should know that Simon always read the same comics, which had been previously authorized by him. There was no “propaganda” in them. But, of course, it wasn’t like his father paid attention to him. (That, and that Simon never read the last volume in front of him, in which Ace Anarchy was the main villain. If his father saw it, he would go crazy.)

The man wouldn't even let him read superhero comics until a few years ago. Laura used to be a superhero fan, but when she died, his dad carried all her and his mother's things up to the little attic they had. His father wouldn't let him get close to them for any reason. He assured him that comics were full of dangerous propaganda, that they would put ideas into his head, and that they were boring and predictable stories anyway.

Although he believed him, he couldn't help picking up a copy of Wonder Man from a counter the first time he and Hugh broke into a store. Simon thought he was going to be happy. He knew how much his friend liked superheroes. However, it was the opposite of that. Hugh was very nervous and told him that they had to return it and apologize to the owner. But they couldn't return without having to confess their other crimes as well.

Simon could barely keep standing, and although Hugh didn't want to accept it, he couldn't continue for long either. Their families were also starving.

They needed that food.

In the end, they decided to keep it. They read it that same afternoon, in Simon’s basement, while eating a pack of rancid cookies. For some reason beyond his understanding, Hugh told his aunt what they had done and she, instead of getting angry, told him that he would give him a little money every two weeks to buy a new comic.

“Now we can buy our own comics, Simon!” he exclaimed.

And that was great, but Simon couldn't help but wonder if perhaps Miss Everhart needed to improve her parenting methods.

Simon kept his hobby a secret, even when his father gave him an old copy of Wonder Man because he considered that “he was mature enough to read it”. Ironically, it was the same number that he had stolen years ago. He didn't have the heart to tell him he had already read it, and he didn't like it that much.

His father gave him back his comic with a sigh. “Where did you get the idea that you could beat Ace Anarchy?” he asked.

Sophie looked at him curiously. She kicked him under the table again, as if to say, "Come on, tell us."

Of course, Simon wasn't going to tell his father that Hugh was the one who came up with the idea. He already didn’t like him. But he wasn't going to lie and say it was his idea, either.

“It was just— curiosity.” And he felt his body turn slightly translucent with embarrassment.

His father's expression softened. “What a peculiar curiosity you have, son.”

Simon just shrugged.

His sister's eyes gleamed peculiarly. Oh no.

“Dad,” Sophie called.

He kicked her under the table. Sophie didn't flinch and kicked him harder. It hurt Simon so much that he couldn't stop her before she asked, “How were things before anarchy?”

John tensed. And instinctively, Simon too.

Sophie was so young. She was the same age Simon was when Laura died. Back then, he didn't understand how things worked in that house, but now he did.

Linda Sophia, we don't talk about dead people in this house.

“We don't focus on the past, Sophie,” their father replied, squeezing the bridge of her nose affectionately, “it ruins our future—” he fixed his gaze on Simon— “because it distracts us from the present.”

Sophie pulled away, pretending to be upset about being treated like a little girl.

He wished he hadn't said anything. The first thing they said in eight years and it was stupid. He had completely ruined dinner.

Oh, but the voice was so loud. Simon was silent, but in his head, all he heard were screams of despair. There is no future, John! The past has ruined it! The present sucks! That is the problem!

Someone has to do something!

“Now go to sleep,” he ordered, picking up her plate. “Tomorrow is Monday and you have to go to school. Have nice dreams.”

“Dreams are for the weak.”

His father rolled his eyes and smiled at her. “Rest, vampire. You too, Simon.”

Sophie ran out of the dining room to the bathroom. Simon and she always fought about who was going to use it first when they were getting ready to sleep, but he didn't care at that moment. He had to do something first.

With translucent hands, he helped pick up the rest of the dishes. He put them in the sink and took the sponge to wash them. His father pushed him away without violence and whispered that he would take care of it.

That only made him feel worse.

“Sorry, Dad,” he whispered. “It was a dumb question.”

His father did not respond immediately. Every second of his silence was a second that the voice had to get louder and louder. There's no future! There's no future! There's no future!

“Don't worry, son,” he told him. “Seriously, no problem. Go to sleep.”

When he entered the room, his sister was under her covers on the top bunk, reading by flashlight and wearing a lacy nightgown that made her feel like “an evil queen”. She poked her head out from under the covers to see him enter and hissed at him. Was it a greeting? Was it a threat?

Who knows.

He got in his pajamas.

How did Sophie imagine the future?

There's no future! There's no future! There's no future!

On the wall, Simon had a picture of his mother sitting on a park bench, wearing a pink scarf. A five-year-old Laura was on her lap, eating a caramel apple with astonishing ferocity. He wished he had a more recent photo, but that was the only one he could save from when his father removed any remaining traces of his wife and daughter in the house.

How had they imagined the future?

He lay down on his bed and stared at the photo, feeling sleepy.

There's no future! There's no future! There's no future!

How did he envision the future?

It horrified him to realize that he had never asked himself that.

Someone has to do something!

Maybe someone should do something. But he knew that someone would not be Simon Westwood.

The voice insisted once more.

But what if you would?

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srhlsx · 5 years ago

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Rewritten & Reposted March 24, 2021

MASTER | Ch. 19 | CHAPTER 20 - END

You hadn’t been up to Sendai for quite some time, since you were in college visiting a few friends, so it was exciting to see the changes that had been made to the buildings and landscape. Your younger siblings had never been to these parts, so as you drove through the streets their faces were pressed against the glass of the windows. Yua more so than Eiji, being a teenager now he was less likely to show how much things that ‘weren’t cool’ excited him.

When you pulled into the parking lot, his eyes did start to get a little bit more life in them. The massive banner hanging from the roof of the Kamei Arena had blown up pictures of professional athletes in an array of action poses, one in particular catching the attention of everyone in your car. You bit your lip anxiously as you parked, pressing your head to the steering wheel and taking in a deep breath.

“You okay neechan?” You heard Yua ask from the back seat. She leaned forward between the two front seats and poked at your shoulder repeatedly. You glanced at her sideways and mumbled out a yes, which was enough of an answer for the nine year-old to return back to her seat.

“She’s nervous.” Eiji stated in a blunt tone. Your eyes widened considerably as you looked at your now sixteen year old brother.

“I am not nervous,” You snapped, although you could barely convince yourself of the fact with how your voice managed to crack at the end.

“Sure you are,” Your brother shrugged. “You spilled your tea like six times this morning and your hands haven't stopped fidgeting the entire ride up here.”

You turned to look away from your brother and faced the front of the car, watching as people piled out of their cars and started to file into the stadium. You pouted slightly, annoyed that your brother continued to be wiser than his years and wasn’t afraid to call you on it.

You hesitated before speaking again, bringing your hand up to your mouth and absently biting on your thumbnail. “What if it’s weird?” You mumbled into the silence of the car.

You felt like such a loser. Here you were, sitting in your car in a busy parking lot, nervous about seeing the guy you fell in love with in high school and complaining about it to your nine year-old and sixteen year-old siblings. Pathetic.

“You still talk to him though!” Your sister said.

“But they haven’t really been around each other in like, two years Yua,” Your brother said, turning around in his seat to face the back. “What she’s worried about is how she’s supposed to greet him.”

While things steadily got more serious between you and Bokuto over the years, when he made the decision to enter into the professional volleyball league, it took a damper on your relationship. You agreed, mutually, that things were going to be put on pause. You were still finishing up undergrad and applying for graduate school proper at the time, all that hard work you had put in over the years was not something you were going to throw away just to travel around the country with Bokuto and chase after uncertain victory.

It had been hard to end things. But as Bokuto made very clear, it was not goodbye but more like pausing a movie right before the big climax and just waiting until the next bag of popcorn was ready. You had cried, heavily, when he said that, but couldn’t help to also laugh at how he could spin things into something positive.

At this point, it’d been two years since you parted ways. Two years since you’d seen him in person. Two years since you’d felt his touch.

“Just say hi?” Yua said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if you were going to go up to him, this professional athlete who was making a huge name for himself, and just say ‘hi’.

“Yes, chibi.” You nodded, jolting yourself to get going and finally unbuckling your seatbelt. “That’s a great idea, you smart girl.”

Glancing in the rearview mirror you could see Yua preen at the praise, ignoring or not noticing your slightly sarcastic tone as she gathered her stuff and also started to exit the car. As you all met in the front of the car to walk in together, your brother tugged on your jacket to pull you back a step. You looked at him, well up at him now, expectantly.

“It’s going to be fine,” He reassured you. “And if it’s not, then we can leave.”

You wanted to cry at the sentiment. Coming here was something your brother had been looking forward to since you’d gotten the tickets in the mail. He’d nearly swooned over the handwritten message that had come with them, the sender expressing their hope and excitement to see the three of you again. You knew that if he was offering to leave because you were uncomfortable, he meant it.

You grabbed your brother by the track jacket he was wearing, the gold and black detailing flashing in the bright sun, and pulled him close in an embarrassing (for him) show of affection. “You’re the best.” You mumbled as you ruffled his hair.

He immediately pushed you off and his hands went up to fix the wayward locks when he noticed a group of teenage girls giggling a few yards away. “Yeah, whatever.” He mumbled, doing his best to hold back a smile.

When the three of you entered the stadium and your tickets were scanned, the ticket worker motioned for someone looking like an usher to come forward. The older woman glanced at your tickets and told you to follow her. Confused, you asked if there was something wrong.

“No, dear!” She smiled at you as she continued to walk through the crowd. “These are just VIP tickets, I’ll escort you to the visitor’s VIP section. You must be very special!”

You blushed, having not even realized what kind of tickets you had been sent, which made you feel like an idiot. Yua began jumping up and down excitedly, while Eiji’s eyes became wider than saucers as you descended a set of stairs and ended up on the floor right next to the court.

It was perfect timing as the lights began to flicker and loud music began to pump through the speakers. The announcer directed all attention to the multiple jumbotron screens throughout the arena as the introductions for the home team, the Adlers, began. You happened to recognize a few of the names from your days in high school volleyball, and you suddenly got a little less anxious and a little more excited.

In the next moment you swore your heart stopped completely and the world was suddenly spinning a million miles a minute. The home team had completed their introductions, and like the shooting star you always remembered him being, another figure made a grand entrance.

He flipped and twirled, landing on his feet and yelling out his own name and number and smiling brightly towards the crowd. Everyone laughed, including you and your siblings, glad to see that time and fame hadn’t changed Bokuto in the slightest.

“(Y/n), I can’t see!” Yua complained, jumping up on the tips of her toes to try to see over the crowd standing near the barrier. “Eiji, take me closer!”

You pushed at your siblings, encouraging them to move through the sea of people to get a closer look before warmups were finished. You saw Eiji roll his eyes, but you knew he was secretly more excited than even Yua as he led her towards the front. You got a little jostled in the crowd and were separated from your siblings for a moment, but you weren’t worried since you were all going in the same direction.

“Hey, Bokuto-san, that kid over there has a Fukurodani jacket! So cool!” Bokuto’s ears perked up at the mention of his high school and looked around wildly until his eyes landed on where his red-headed teammate was pointing.

Bokuto didn’t bother to hear anything else, he was already moving across the court.

Two years may have made your siblings grow and change, but he would forever recognize them. Your little sister Yua, barely peeking her eyes over the top of the barrier still had crazy hair that he remembers you once saying she got from your mother. Your brother, Eiji, was not a young boy anymore but a growing teenager who was closing in on Bokuto in terms of height and size - impressive, kid can’t be older than sixteen now, Bokuto thought.

His smile grew even more when he had fully approached the two and saw that not only was your brother wearing a Fukurodani jacket, but it was a part of the familiar volleyball warmups Bokuto himself still had. Stitched into the front was your family’s name and a golden number four. Bokuto felt a sense of pride at the sight, “Good choice, Eiji.”

“Thank you, I had to earn it.” Your brother greeted Bokuto with a solid handshake and a modest smile.

“I’m sure you worked hard,” Bokuto said, then reaching down to say hello to Yua and ruffling her hair affectionately which made her smile grow wider than it seemed like her face could accommodate.

“Oh my - fuuuck, these people.” You huffed out as you finally broke through the bodies pushed together that had separated you from your siblings. You let out a heavy sigh and pushed your hair out of your face a bit dramatically. When you looked up at who your siblings had been talking to your spinning word suddenly halted altogether. “Oh my god.”

Bokuto looked as stunned as you felt, those same golden eyes widening to take up most of his face, eyebrows reaching up in surprise as he opened and closed his mouth a few times. Bokuto Koutaro, speechless, for the first time in his life. “H-Hey,” He finally said.

“Hi,” You said back immediately, clutching your bag to your chest in hopes that it would help your nerves to do something with your hands.

There was a pause, a flash of uncertainty that came across Bokuto’s face. If you hadn’t been staring at him so intently you might’ve missed it as it was so quickly replaced by so many other emotions. Relief. Excitement. Love.

“I’ve missed you, (y/n).” He said breathlessly, right before he reached his hands out and grabbed you by the face and pulled you forward. You didn’t resist at all as his lips came crashing down on yours, letting your bag fall to the floor as your grip shifted to clutching at the black jersey that stretched across his chest.

It all came back in that moment, like a montage or highlight reel. Daiki introducing you at that party six years ago. Late nights spent texting, facetiming, or studying together. Cheering each other on as you both continued through the ranks at the national tournament. His body pressed up against yours in those secret, intimate moments. Smiles and laughter as you walked the streets of Tokyo while skipping out on your free periods.

You heard a few of his teammates yelling from the other side of the court, probably confused as to why Bokuto was kissing a random girl from the crowd. As he pulled away, smiling, you pressed your forehead against his and let the weight of the past few years of missing him slowly fall from your shoulders.

“See, (y/n)?” Yua said, picking up your bag and handing it to you. “I told you ‘hi’ was fine!”

#bokuto koutaro #koutaro bokuto #bokuto x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #hq!!#hq

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twiceblackvelvet · 5 years ago

Text

Blame

Pt. I, Pt. II

June 2nd, 2022. 14:32 PM. Busan.

“That’s a wrap everyone, thank you!”

The booming voice of the director echoing throughout the set. Lighting rigs are taken down by the many production staff on hand. The few extras needed to walk in the shot background shuffle out of sight without speaking a word, grateful for the opportunity to be working, and not willing to do anything to risk their position here. You can see the hunger for more in all of their eyes and the envy they feel towards those with speaking roles. None of them have caused trouble, something the former male lead should learn from.

The first few weeks here had been tortuous but finally, Joy has completed the filming of her first acting job since the split of Red Velvet, without murdering the god-awful co-star initially hired which is an accomplishment. The role of a mistress seeking revenge against the man who murdered her father just seemed too good to pass up on. However, had she known it would come with dealing with by far the most pretentious man to exist, she might have thought twice.

The first few days it was plain sailing. Everyone just got on with their jobs and kept things moving along. But then, trailers needed to be made bigger and fine foods had to be stocked inside every day. The final straw being a request for an assistant solely to hold water bottles close by the actor. To say Joy was annoyed would be an understatement. So, she confronted the man for his poor behavior and put him in his place. Respect should be earned not just given, and this man had earned zero.

After being showed up in front of everyone, things spiraled quickly into ruining scenes on purpose just to make shoots run late or purposefully blocking the camera with his body during close-ups. Eventually, the director settled on replacing him with another actor, far better both in the talent and attitude department. The firing caused a setback in the schedule, but luckily everyone worked twice as hard to finish within the allotted time-frame.

To finally be rid of this experience feels like a breath of fresh air. Not that she didn’t enjoy portraying what most would deem the “bad” character for a change, it just became difficult to do so when a real-life villain was haunting the production.

“Hey, the director has arranged a wrap party, are you going?”

Eunseo, a petite woman in charge of the third camera who everyday likes to inform Joy she owns all of Red Velvet’s albums asks. Her toothy grin is remarkably unpleasant as the question escapes her mouth. However, Joy has gotten used to her overexcitement over the small pleasures in life.

“Sure, I just need to grab my things from the trailer and I’ll get my manager to drive me straight there.” A lie. A very obvious yet unnoticed lie.

“Great, I’ll see you there.” Eunseo latches her arms firmly around Joy’s neck, although, she barely reaches because of her lack of height.

Joy quickly squirms her way out of the smaller woman’s arms and gives only a smile in response before scurrying away to her trailer, not daring to allow her a second chance at grappling her neck.

Unlocking her phone as she gets closer to the spacious trailer she’s spent the last few months getting used to, a few notifications appear about her upcoming drama, which she subscribed to the alerts for. If the former male lead tries to tarnish her name despite his own actions being the issue, she wants her team to be on the case of fixing it immediately. A few missed calls from her sister and mom, likely wondering how long they need to keep babysitting Haetnim whilst she’s out of Seoul. But finally, some texts from an unknown number that she deletes without reading. If it’s anyone or anything important, they’ll contact her manager.

Getting closer to the trailer, the door appears to be slightly ajar. Joy stops in her tracks, trying to think back to whether or not she locked it before heading to the set. She’s certain she did, however, with the excitement of the final day looming over her, she thinks it’s possible this slipped her mind.

Not willing to risk a masked assailant, however, she shouts inside first to see if anyone responds.

“Hello, is anyone there?”

Silence is all that follows. Not trusting this, she asks again in a more threatening tone.

“Hello? I’m calling the police if you don’t come out!”

A small chuckle is all that can be heard, but there’s no one in sight. Fed up with the not knowing, Joy steps inside of her trailer attempting to use her phone like some kind of weapon. The last person she ever imagined being sat inside of her trailer, however, is there in all of her glory as made-up and ready for the runway as ever, despite her “normal” life now.

“Irene?” She asks, as if unsure of whether the older woman before her is real or just a figment of her imagination.

“Joohyun. It’s Joohyun now.” Adjusting her shirt as she speaks, Joy can tell that she’s nervous to be here, with her, for the first time since the day they parted as members. “Nice trailer, I can see you… decorated.”

There’s clothing thrown on the floor with little to no care, a reminder of their days in the dorm, everyone making a mess, and no one in the mood to clean up after themselves. However, if Joy had known that Joohyun was dropping by, she’d have attempted to at least make it slightly presentable. She does still mean a lot to Joy.

“Um… What are you doing here?” The bluntness to Joy’s tone being something she didn’t mean to let out, however, her voice naturally shows that she too is on edge.

The pair look at each other for a few seconds before Joohyun stands and attempts to leave. However, Joy places her arm up onto the door frame to block her path before she can whisk back out of her life as fast as she has re-entered it.

“This was a mistake, I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry.” Sadness drips off every word Joohyun speaks, her eyes averting to the ground.

“Come on, sit back down. I’ll make us a drink and you can tell me all about it.”

Joohyun desperately wants to escape, but Joy has always had a way of roping her into things she’s not so sure of. So she sits. They drink, something that is far too stiff for both of them to handle, however, it helps the words flow from Joohyun’s mouth and Joy’s ears do a lot more listening than they’re used to nowadays.

She tells Joy all about the offer from Dongchul and how she’s considering stepping into the acting world, about her garden that has become a haven where she can let all of her thoughts out and about how her parents’ smiles have become the thing that makes her heart feel alive now.

Joy has always found Joohyun beautiful, so has anyone lucky enough to lay their eyes on her, however, seeing her happy like this makes her feel that her own actions regarding their group splitting are justified if Joohyun is enjoying her new life this much. Joy desperately hopes to feel the same way one day about her own.

“How about you? Do you keep up with the others?” Joohyun asks and breaks Joy from her own inner monologue of life. “How are they all?”

Joy hesitates in answering Joohyun’s innocent question. She knows that her former leader is not trying to stir up any negative feelings by asking about the others, yet, sadness is all Joy can feel when she thinks about the state the group has erupted into.

“I don’t speak to Seulgi, she stopped speaking to me that day,” A frown replaces Joohyun’s smile from seconds ago at this. “Yeri and I hang out sometimes, she’s just as busy as I am. We check in with each other when we can.”

“That’s good, you two were always close. Annoying, but close.” Joohyun adds, “What about Wendy, do you see her still?”

Confusion etches across Joy’s face. Granted Joohyun is yet to reveal whether she has kept in touch with anyone, she figured that she would have at least saw the news on the internet or television.

“Well that would be difficult, given that she’s in America now, did you not know?”

Joohyun almost chokes on her drink at Joy’s words. America? Why would she move there? Why did no one tell her?

“No, when did she move?”

“She left about two months after the split.” If Joohyun thinks this is the only bombshell awaiting her about her former members, Joy has yet another shock in store for her. “So, you don’t know about the singles clash then, I guess?”

Placing her drink down onto the table, Joohyun shifts her body closer towards Joy’s, unsure of what she’s talking about.

“Singles clash? No?”

A deep sigh leaves Joy’s body. Dealing with her awful co-worker had also been made more difficult by the decisions made by two of her former members. Interviewers desperately wanting her to comment on what ended up being a situation blown out of proportion, but a stressful one to deal with. Fake smiles were plastered on and rumors of a feud swiftly denied by both her and Yeri on behalf of Seulgi and Wendy.

“Seulgi got to debut solo two months ago, SM did their first thing right in years and went all out for her, the whole works,” Joy can see Joohyun’s mental cogs shifting trying to figure out where an issue comes into play here. “But Wendy released her first solo song in the US at midnight, an hour before Seulgi’s showcase here.”

Suddenly, everything makes sense. But surely this was all coincidental? Joohyun thinks but doesn’t verbalize as Joy is in before she can.

“Wendy insists that she had no idea Seulgi’s debut was that day but, I don’t know. It turned into a messy situation and fans didn’t know which to support. Seulgi still topped the charts, but it can’t have felt good to have her thunder stolen from someone who was once her friend. She already blames us for the disbandment, this just added fuel to the fire.”

Joy’s hand’s motion between the two of them as she speaks.

“She blames me?” Joohyun asks softly.

Joy pauses and recalls that Joohyun missed the blow-up from Seulgi in the office that day having left before it happened. She decides it’s best to stick the knife all the way in and tell Joohyun everything instead of trying to spare her with a lie.

“Except for Yeri, she blames all of us.”

pt. iv

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

Text

1036

survey by tickticktmr

How many...

How many times have you skipped class? I skipped one day a year back in high school, and that cut was always for this day-long event that the school would arrange to serve as a break from academic classes; for example, for those days we had like themed classes like knitting and it was also usually a themed costume day. I didn’t see the point in it, so I always skipped.

I cut a lot of classes in college that it’s impossible to count because, welp, it’s college lol.

How many times have you kissed the last person you kissed? Hundreds.

How many years have you known your second closest friend? 10 years.

How many alarm clocks are in the house? We don’t have any alarm clocks, but we have alarms built into our phones. If those count, then we have five.

How many people have you argued with? I don’t think I can count this. I’ve had arguments with various people ranging from mild bickering to full-blown fights.

How many times have you watched your favorite movie? I watched it every day for a certain period several years ago and I go back to it at least once every year. It’s probably been a little more than a hundred times.

How many people do you live with? Four, my parents and two siblings.

How many pairs of boots do you own? Zero.

How many people have told you they're in love with you? Just the one.

How many times have you cried over the opposite sex? A handful, but all have been in the non-romantic sense. I used to cry all the time when we’d drop my dad off at the airport, and I’ve cried over my grandpa’s and Nacho’s death as well.

How many people have been in your house at one time? Do you mean what’s the most number of people that’s stayed at our house at one given time? Not sure...maybe it was the time the entire executive board of my org came over for a meeting before the official start of the sem? It was only a little over 10 people, but then again my mom doesn’t appreciate too many visitors.

How many stuffed animals are in your room? There are a couple of plushies, but not anything bigger than that.

How many cellphones have you went through? Tons. I was my parents’ nightmare. I’ve gone through 8 so far.

How many pets do you have? We have two living ones, both dogs.

What would you do if...

What would you do if you could never listen to music again? I’d be really distraught over never being able to listen to my favorites anymore. Even if I don’t really listen to music when I’m depressed, i.e. now, I still like having the option to tune in when I feel like it. So even if it won’t be the end of the world, I’d still feel pretty damn lonely.

What would you do if your current bf/gf cheated on you? I don’t have one anymore but I’d be really puzzled and be betrayed if she had, given how much she hates cheaters and the act of cheating.

What would you do if you could never wear jeans again? Rejoice for the most part, but also be sad over mom jeans because they’re the only comfy kind of jeans and that’s the one type I genuinely enjoy wearing.

What would you do if your dad became president? Expect him to tap me for help almost immediately. I think he’d make a good leader considering he’s already one at his work, at least a far better one than my mom ever could be.

What would you do if you lost your most important possession? Right now that’s my laptop. If I lost that, I’d mostly be scared of the possibility of my parents whooping my ass; but at the same time my company just gave me a company laptop anyway so it’ll be easy to start over.

What would you do if your house burned down? Stop taking this survey, obviously. Then I’d grab my phone and Kimi, since he’s here with me in my room.

What would you do if your best friend didn't want to be friends anymore? I’d be devastated and start thinking if I’m the problem.

What would you do if you had to move do a different state/province? Thank fuck. I’d be relieved to have the chance to start from scratch, and I’d be all for it.

What would you do if someone shaved your head? Be furious, especially if they did it while I was asleep or otherwise unaware.

What would you do if Jesus came to your front door? Think that it’s probably an act and ask them to leave.

What would you do if your house was robbed? Check if my parents, sister, and dogs are unharmed.

What would you do if your sister/brother got married? Puzzled because 1) they are both single, 2) we are still in a pandemic and why would either of them want to get married right now, and 3) they are 20 and 17.

What would you do if dogs became extinct? Idk, be upset.

What would you do if the last person you kissed proposed to you? I’d be conflicted and a mix of emotions. I’m not sure I would take it well now, even if that’s all I wanted in the end.

Have you ever...

Have you ever broke a body part? I’ve mildly sprained an ankle, but I’ve never broken a bone or had an organ severely malfunction.

Have you ever broke someone else's body part? I don’t think so.

Have you ever changed for a guy/girl? I’ve adjusted a lot. Idk about change.

Tried to jump on a celebrity but been stopped by the security guards? Kind of? Greyson Chance walked into the mall right when I was exiting and my first instinct as a 14/15 year old was to grab my phone and start taking photos, even though I wasn’t even a fan and could not name any song of his and was just excited to see a Hollywood person in such a mundane circumstance lol. But it wasn’t the smartest move, obviously. I got to be a little too close just because we were crossing paths; I wasn’t trying to be near him, but that’s what his bodyguard interpreted so he asked me to back off.

Have you ever complained about the last person you spoke to? I don’t think there was ever anything to complain about Hans. We’ve always been on amazing terms and he’s one of the funniest people I know.

Have you ever cried on your mom's shoulder? As an infant.

Have you ever dialed 911 as a prank? No. I’m not a jerk.

Have you ever won a talent show? I don’t have anything to show off, so I never joined those.

Have you ever spilled a drink on a expensive electronic item and ruined it? Nah. As clumsy as I can be, I’m always careful with liquids and gadgets.

Have you ever fainted when someone told you shocking news? Nope. I’ve only fainted because I was extremely hungry.

Have you ever swooned over the Jonas Brothers? In 4th grade. I still like them, but I haven’t swooned over them in a while.

Have you ever bought a piece of makeup that cost over $100? No, I don’t buy makeup period.

Have you ever been cheated on by someone who claimed to love you? I haven’t.

Have you ever got food free because the waiter thought you were hot? No, and ew.

Do you...

Do you have someone who will always be there for you? Yeah, I’m lucky I have friends who remind me all the time.

Do you have a membership at a gym? No, was never interested.

Do you act dumb to get guys/girls to like you? No. Hasn’t this been debunked a million times?

Do you know anyone who smokes a pack of cigarettes a day? Possibly more, yes.

Do you follow the rules? As much as possible, yeah.

Do you have a friend who secretly really annoys you? Eh, kind of, but I don’t count her as a friend per se.

Do you always have Pepsi at your house? I don’t think my parents buy Pepsi whenever they get softdrinks. I’ve only ever seen Coca-Cola bottles.

Do you flirt with anything that moves? No.

Do you watch Sponge Bob? I watched it regularly as a kid; as an adult, I’ll watch the older episodes from time to time.

Do you count sheep when you can't sleep? No.

Do you sweat easily? Nah. I’ve been told I rarely look like I sweat, actually.

Do you like pineapple? Not at all.

Do you refuse to wear something that's out of style? If it’s something that’s recently gone out of style, like culottes, then yeah. But if you mean like 90s stuff like fanny packs and mom jeans, I believe those things are back in style all over again.

Do you type 'u' or 'you'? I type both, depending on what I feel like using and who I’m talking to.

What is...

What is your best friend's name? Angela. Maybe Gabie? But mainly Angela.

What is your first girlfriend/boyfriend's name? See second name above.

What is your neighbour's name? I have no clue what any of their names are other than the director who lives two houses away; his name is Mac.

What is your least favorite swear word? Faggot.

What is the best and most romantic way to propose to someone? I think it will always be different per couple, and if a given couple wants a romantic proposal in the first place.

What is something that always makes you laugh? The show Friends.

What is the name of your hometown? That’ll stay a secret.

What is the most gentle way to turn someone down? Idk...haven’t really had to do this before, and the one time I did wasn’t the nicest way.

What is the ugliest girl name? 1) Can’t think of any, and 2) that’s just mean.

What is the most boring thing to do? Technically, waiting. Especially if it’s for something mundane, like lining up for a government service.

What is the funnest kind of question to answer? On surveys? I appreciate random questions the most.

What is the most useless thing you know? I’ve read a lot of ‘useless’ trivia on Reddit that I’ll probably never have to use or bring up in this lifetime.

What is your favorite pair of pants? My mom jeans, which I always mention when asked this.

What is the best flavour of ice cream? I personally root for cookies and cream.

#survey #surveys

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littlebitoffanfic · 6 years ago

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Smile

Fandom: House of Wax Characters: Vincent, Bo, Relationship: Vincent/reader Request: Do you write for house of wax? I would love to have your take on how Vincent falls in love with a victim or even a childhood friend. If you don't write for him, it's fine! I love all your other works, especially your hills have eyes and Texas chainsaw!! Keep up the good work. When Bo first came across you, there was only reason to lure you back to his house. But then his opinion quickly changed. He had went through your bags quickly when you weren’t around and found all your sketch pads, art supplies and finished works and that got the clogs in his mind ticking. Vincent had been becoming a little bit agitated as of late. He had so much to do with his sculptures in both making new ones and maintaining older ones. Not only that, but Bo was sure he was lonely. So when he realised you might be a match for his twin, he wasted no time bringing you back. He told Vincent you were going to help with chores and traps and that he had to keep any eye on you. Bo wasn’t stupid, you wouldn’t wake up and be thrilled to be here. But if you didn’t settle down after a month or so, they could just cage you, or find another. Surely it wouldn’t matter to Vincent. Bo heard Vincent moving down stairs and begin to climb the stairs. His eyes moved to your body which he placed on the table. He had cleaned the blood off your face and tried to make you look a little bit less grubby. He had handcuffed your ankles to the table leg in case you woke up and tried to scramble. the door to the basement was thrown open and Vincent walked out, his head low and his hands looked like they had seen better days. He seemed to have burned himself on the wax a few times while working on the new sculpture. Not anyone you knew. No, you had crossed Bos path alone. But there had recently been two people wandered into the village. They were no threat now. “Y’ah alright?” Bo asked, walking into the living room and blocking your body from Vincent who didn’t even glance past Bo. He went straight to the draws and started looking for something. Bo walks up behind him and looks round his shoulder to see him pulling out a bandage out and wrapping it around his hand. Bo decided to leave him for a moment, so he took a step back and turned, walking over to the counter to grab a glass of water. When he turned back to him brother, he got the reaction he was hoping for. Vincent had turned around and seemingly froze in place, staring at your sleeping form. He stood for a moment before cautiously approaching you. his reacted out a shaking hand had gently moved a strand of hair off of your sleeping features. He tilted his head to the side slowly, as if falling into a trance. “Shes yours.” Bo told Vincent, the smirk of Bo’s face undeniable. Because he knew he had Vincent right back in the palm of his hand. Some people from Bo’s childhood would say his was evil and some might say he was stupid. But he certainly wasn’t both. Bo was smart. Bo had caught you and knocked you out, which will make you scared of him but hopefully not Vincent (completely at least). You see, Vincent would act as a barrier between Bo and you, meaning you would cling to Vincent for safety. And Bo gave you to Vincent, so he would say nicely in his place. ‘circle of order’ ran through Bo’s mind as he watched Vincent lower himself slowly down to kneel on the floor to look at you a little closer. But Bo didn’t imagine for one second that you would grow to be such a big part of his family and he might find a sister/brother love for each other, to the point that Bo would often make sure you were happy before Vincent. But he never got too comfortable. ------------- time skip ------------ You sat on the couch, your legs crossed and the remote for the TV sitting to the side of you. It was late and dark out. Vincent had spent the whole day making small figures of sheep for a farm that the two of you had been working on for a few weeks. It was nearly done, but you found the small fiddly bits too much so Vincent had allowed you to go relax while he finished up. Bo was out at the garage and had said he would be there most of the night. Something about Lester messing about with the truck again and Bo having to fix it. You didn’t mind too much. It gave you some time to yourself without Bo breathing down your neck. You barely remember the first week when you woke up. It was so full of fear, nausea and worry that some part of you must have blocked it out. But you did remember Vincent. He had tried his best with you, offering you food and water along with water. He reminded you of the way someone would act when trying to earn the trust of a pet. Bo had put on a bit more of an act in front of you, making you feel very threatened and scared, but Vincent would put himself between you and Bo. And just as Bo intended, you quickly began to trust Vincent. And Vincent adored you from the start. You were like his little doll. He found you completely and utterly beautiful. He kept you safe and somewhat happy. Slowly but surely, you began to rather enjoy your life at the Sinclair house. Some part of you suspected Stockholm syndrome was playing a part in your attachment to Vincent but you would shrug it off because… because he needed you. As much as you depended on him, he seemed to depend on you. He wanted you to be apart of his life and share his passions with you. You knew about the fate of the people who entered Ambrose. At first, you had been disgusted and appalled, but then you walked in on Vincent as he worked with the wax. You became transfixed by his talent and his ability to completely recreate these people and make them so lifelike again. This strange and morbid fascination kept you from interfering with the victims. He gave you your freedom back, quicker than Bo wanted but you were grateful and followed the rules. You never felt like you belonged anywhere or that anyone really cared for you. One time, you had had your first chance to run. Vincent was downstairs and Bo had run down to the town. You ended up standing at the door, looking out over the town and into the woods. You could have run, and you would have got a big head start. But where would you go? No one would be looking for you. you didn’t have many friends and none close enough to start a search for you. and you had no family. You had stepped back, closed the door over and went to join Vincent downstairs. That was how you ended up as a permanent part of the Sinclair house as Vincent’s assistant. You got to your feet and ventured down to the basement to find Vincent. you found him dipping a paintbrush into a dark brown paint. You looked over and saw the wax statue that was nearly fully set in the chair. There had been 3 people who had been unfortunate enough to wander into the town. Bo had caught two of them, and one was tied up in the other room and the second was sitting under the wax. You couldn’t wait for the wax to set because Vincent had promised to let you help with sculpting it since you had never done a project this big before. “Vincent?” You call out, informing him of your presences as you sat by his side. He turned his head towards you, nodding a little before returning to his painting. You picked up the paint jar, looking at the thick paint inside. “Is it dry yet?” You asked, hoping your naive eye was wrong as you looked back to the body. Vincent turned to look at it before shaking his head. You sighed, a little annoyed. You saw Vincent’s shoulders move in a chuckle at you before returning to his work. leaning on the table, you propped your head on your hand as you watched Vincent. You couldn’t explain your strange fascination with the man before you. And despite you apart adoration for him, nothing romantic ever seemed to evolve, at least right now. Even Bo thought you would be more of a romantic partner for Vincent, but he never seemed to pursue it. Maybe it was its own personal self confidence issues or his fear or rejections, you didn’t know because he clearly adored you. But you would wait until he was ready. -------time skip ---------- You woke up to Bo screaming in anger at the top of his voice. You were in your bed, although you fell asleep on the desk next to Vincent. He must have carried you up to your bed. You had little time to think before you heard another angry scream and you jumped from your bed and ran to the stairs. You listened, worried someone might be inside the house. You knew there was still 2 people around somewhere. But then you heard Bo mumbling about having to find them. You quickly descended the stairs, still slightly dazed and disoriented. “Whats going on?” You asked, walking into the kitchen and seeing the twins. Vincent was closest to you, and immediately walked up to you, pushing on your shoulder and pointing back to the stairs. “What?” You stayed where you were, apart from stumbling back a little from the force of his pushes. “Someone got out.” Bo said, in a deadpan voice. “Out? Oh god.” Your eyes grew wide. If someone managed to get to the real world, they would bring the police back here. You would never see Vincent again. What if they killed him? You had a somewhat alibi, since there was still handcuffs in certain rooms like on your bed which use to be put on your ankle at night. The police would assume you were kept here against your will or out of fear. “What are we going to do?” You looked to Bo, who seemed to be proud that you had assumed him the authority figure in this situation. “just try to figure out where he would have got to.” Bo then pulls out a map he kept in the kitchen draw and laid it on the table and started to talk to Vincent about where the guys van had been. But something from outside drew your attention. Flashing lights, coming from the town. You walked to the window in the living room and pulled back the curtain to see a number of the lights from the town being turned off and on again in rapid succession. You knew exactly what this meant. He was inside the house, down in the basement. Probably looking for the light switch for the hall down there. “Guys?” You called, not talking your eyes off the light show but you heard both Vincent and Bo walk up behind you. Turning to look up at them, you saw a sadistic grin grow across Bo’s features as his attention turned to the hallway to the basement. Bo started to walk down to the basement while Vincent went back to the kitchen, returning with a large kitchen knife. You thought it must have been for himself, but he grabbed your right hand and put the handle in it, holding your small hand in both his big ones. You understood. “Stay safe.” You whispered to him, raising your hand so you could press a soft kiss to his knuckles. You were certainly worried and, even if you knew they would win, the thought of Vincent getting hurt made your stomach twist. Vincent stay still only for a moment before Bo shouted on him and he had to leave you. ---------time skip ----------- When Bo finally came back up stairs, he was limping but seemed in good spirits despite the blood splatter that covered his torso. “Might wanna go help that boyfriend of yours.” He somewhat sneered at you, as if it was an inside joke you weren’t aware of. “Is he hurt?” You quickly stand from your seat in the corner and started to head towards the basement. “Little.” Bo shrugged as he went to the kitchen and pulled out the vodka. You bolted down the stairs to the basement, desperately searching for Vincent. When you found him, he was slumped at his work bench with a mirror in his hand as he seemed to press something to his mask on his face. “Vincent?” You called his name as you approached him. You didn’t want him to jump or get a fright when he realised you were there. He turned his head ever so slightly then went back to the mirror. You walked up to his left and he flinched away, turning his back to you. “Whats wrong? Are you hurt?” You reach out and rest your hand on his shoulder, trying to look in to his mirror and see what was going on. He still had his mask on, and judging from the spoon in his hand that he seemed to be using to smooth out something on his mask, it had been damaged. “Let me help, please.” You sat down to his left, running your hands down so you could cling to his left arm. He tensed at the action, before reluctantly turning to you. As you thought, someone seemed to have slashed a knife at him, just catching his left cheek. He was trying to smooth out the wax there, but he seemed to be shaking too much. Smiling, you gently took the spoon from his hand and started at the bottom of the slit. You could feel he had headed the head of the spoon first, so the wax was a little easier to control. But then you saw something that made your heart jump. there was a little blood dripping down his neck. “Your mask. Could, could I see beneath it?” You cautiously ask, not daring to look in his eyes as you gently pressed the heated spoon to the scrapped area and smoothing it out. Vincent’s whole body tenses up and he then grabbed the spoon from your hand, making you jump back. “You have blood under your mask. Please, I just want to make sure it doesn’t need stitches and that it will heal right.” You reach out to him and wipe your fingers on his neck, so some blood got on the tips. When you pulled your hand back and presented your evidence to Vincent, his eye widened. You knew about what lay beneath the mask, despite never seeing so yourself. You had found pictures in the house of Bo and Vincent when they were still connected and when he was younger. You had said that you would wait till he was ready to show you, but now you knew that couldn’t happen. “Vincent?” you cooed his name in a soft voice. “please?” The inner battle he seemed to be having with himself broken when you said ‘please’. slowly, with shaking hands, he reaches up and pulled the mask from his face and placing it in front of himself on the table. He sat facing forward so you could only see the left side of his face, which looked relatively normal. In fact, you thought he looked rather handsome. As you thought, there was a small cut in his cheek which only looked like it had grazed the skin and didn’t look deep at all. but something didn’t feel right. He kept his gaze straight in front of him, refusing to look at you. Frowning, you stood up and turned so you could sit on the edge of the table and he turned his face to the left, denying you that side of his features. looking to your side, you saw a clean cloth. Grabbing it, you moved a little closer to Vincent as you reached out and started to wipe away the blood that had dripped down his cheek and neck. He seemed to relax a little as you saw to the slight cut on his cheek without pushing him. “It’s a good thing you wore that mask. I think it’s the only reason the cut isn’t as bad as it couldn’t have been.” You said, trying to make him feel a little more comfortable. He nodded slightly, a small smile dawning his thin lips. You couldn’t help but beam at him. “I think that’s the first time ive ever seen you smile.” You couldn’t stop your heart from doing flips in your chest. How such a small thing could set your world on fire, you would never know. But then Vincent did something he instantly regretted. He was so use to being around you with the mask. And for a moment, he forgot he didn’t have it. He turned his face towards you, looking up at you. and in doing so, he showed you the right side of his face. He had no features on this side, only scared flesh. He was missing his right eye and the flesh dipped inward instead of out where he cheek would have been. It reached down, only slightly effecting the corner of his lip and nose. You couldn’t help but take a sharp breath because you didn’t expect it to look so painful. What must he have gone through to get scaring such as that during the operation? Did it hurt him, even now? Your heart ached for him as you took in his full face for the first time. But Vincent quickly realised his own mistake. His eye widened and he quickly tried to cover his face with his hands, shrinking away from you as he tried to find the mask with the other. You quickly grabbed the mask from in front of him, holding it against your chest as you hoped you use it as some kind of leverage. He froze when he realised you had his mask, refusing to meet your gaze. Reaching out, you gently took the hand that covered his face and pulled it down. Once you were sure he wasn’t going to recover himself again, you gently took his chin and moved him to look towards you again, his eye still refusing to look up at you. in fact, you were sure he was close to tears. His shoulders were shaking, and it was as if he were fighting ever instinct he had not to either run or push you out the way. “you know,” You drew attention up as you placed the mask to the side of you farthest away from his reach. “I much prefer you without the mask. I like your smile.” Vincent opened his mouth slightly, his expression showing one of shock at your words. But you just smiled down at him. You moved your hand from his chin to move a stand of long hair from his right side, afraid it might be hurting him. He seemed to not know what to do next, and you didn’t blame him. While his mother and father obviously loved him, they wanted to keep his face hidden for fear of people making fun of him and ruin his soft nature. When they past, Bo got more abusive and he probably never heard a good comments about his face. “Anyway, I have a bone to pick with you.” You cross your arms, pretending to be cross. “I told you to stay safe and you got hurt.” Vincent instantly saw you were kidding when he saw the small smirk on your face despite your body language. He smiled, shaking his head slightly at your pretend scolding. “You gotta be more careful. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You dropped the anger side, your voice shaking slightly as you thought of the worse case scenarios. You looked down, and he could easily see the worry in eyes. Vincent stood, pushing the chair he had been sitting in backwards. He stepped in front of you and you immediately leaned forward to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him. His arms engulfed you as always and you rested your head against his check, hearing his racing heart. You couldn’t help but feel safe and secure in his arms. Looking up to him, you couldn’t help but feel that drive of love. Because you loved him. The realisation dawned on you and, before you could even stop yourself. moving closer, you press your lips to his. You felt his body tense but he was eager to accept your affections and return them tenfold. He pulled you closer to him and you moved your legs apart so he could step between them. You were pressed against his body, wrapped in his arms as he kissed you back, hard. You just wanted him to feel loved and valued, to know you truly didn’t care about his features and that you adored him in every way. You ran your hands down either side of his neck before moving your right hand up to cup his left cheek. When you pulled back, you were left panting and you head was spinning. Your somewhat dazed expression seemed to cause Vincent some concern as he ducked his head slightly to check you were okay. “No ones ever kissed me like that.” you smiled, showing it was certainly a good thing. A small nod from Vincent and the pink in his left cheek told you he was exactly the same. But then loud voices from up stairs made you jump. You looked up to the ceiling, hearing Bo and Lester arguing upstairs. Lester normally stayed in a small house on the other side of town because he and Bo butted heads so often. But apparently, he had come to the house. You didn’t like it when they argued because they could get violent and throw things at each other. One time, a picture frame had missed Bo and hit you. Vincent had pulled you out of the room and Bo went mental at Lester. Vincent moved out of your arms, walking to the door that led to the room and shut if over, somewhat stifling the shouting. When he returned to you, he reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking you lovingly. You quickly cover his hand with your own and turn to kiss the palm before looking back to him. Vincent takes a moment before diving back in for another kiss. And judging by the argument raging upstairs, the two of you had more than enough time to satisfy that craving before going back to the rest of the house.

#house of wax #Vincent #Vincent sinclair #Vincent x reader #Vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair

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citizenscreen · 5 years ago

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It was 85 years ago this week, in October 1934, that Mark Sandrich’s The Gay Divorcee was released in theaters across the country. That occasion would normally have been just another movie release except it marks a significant moment in movie history. The Gay Divorcee, you see, was the first starring picture for Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. While cinema has given us many memorable romantic movie couples, only one was so memorably romantic in dance.

The Gay Divorcee is my favorite of the Astaire Rogers pictures thanks in large part to its hilarious supporting cast including Alice Brady, Edward Everett Horton, Erik Rhodes, and Eric Blore who supply laughs galore in a story we’d see over and over again later in the 1930s as the Astaire and Rogers film canon picked up speed. Here we see Mimi Glossop (Rogers) trying to get a divorce from her estranged husband. Her Aunt Hortense (Brady) suggests she consult with attorney Egbert Fitzgerald (Horton) with whom Hortense has a romantic history. The fumbling lawyer suggests a great way for Mimi to get a quick divorce is for her to spend the night with a professional co-respondent and get caught being unfaithful by the private detectives hired for the task. Except, Egbert forgets to hire the detectives. As the co-respondent Egbert hires Rodolfo Tonetti (Rhodes) who is supposed to introduce himself to Mimi by saying “Chance is a fool’s name for fate,” but the Italian can’t keep the line straight, which never fails to make this fan roar with laughter.

“Fate is the foolish thing. Take a chance.”

In the meantime, staying in the same hotel is dancer Guy Holden (Astaire) who falls for Mimi the moment they had an uncomfortable meeting on the ship from England. Guy is determined to make Mimi his while she mistakes him for the co-respondent. It’s quite the confusing premise that serves the talent of the cast and Astaire-Rogers pairings on the dance floor, which made the trip to the movies the magical experience these movies surely were.

Fred Astaire reprised his role from the stage play The Gay Divorce for The Gay Divorcee. Censors insisted that The Gay Divorce be changed to The Gay Divorcee, because a gay divorce was no laughing matter. Erik Rhodes and Eric Blore, who played the waiter in typical snooty fashion, also reprised their roles from the stage version. Cole Porter wrote the music for the stage production, but only one of his songs, “Night and Day” was retained for the movie.

The Gay Divorcee won one Academy Award, the first ever Best Original Song for “The Continental” with music and lyrics by Con Conrad and Herb Magidson respectively. The film was also nominated for Best Picture, Best Art Direction, Best Sound, Recording, and Best Music Score for Max Steiner, then head of the sound department at RKO. While award recognition is great, the place The Gay Divorcee holds in history is much more important. As mentioned, this was the first movie where Fred Astaire’s and Ginger Rogers’ names appear above the title. This film also sets the stage quite nicely for subsequent Astaire-Rogers movies, which often followed the same formula. First, Fred’s character usually falls for Ginger’s at first sight and he is often annoying to her. In The Gay Divorcee, for example, she has her dress caught in a trunk while he attempts to flirt. In Top Hat (1935) he wakes her up with his tap dancing in the room above hers. In Swing Time (1936) he asks her for change of a quarter only to ask for the quarter back a bit later.

Most Fred and Ginger movies also have mistaken identity central to the plot and some are set in lavish surroundings, extravagant art deco sets, “Big White Sets” as they are called, and include travel to exotic places. The world in these pictures is rich and cultured and never fail to offer an escape from reality.

More importantly, most of the Astaire-Rogers movies feature dances that further the characters’ story together, all are supremely executed, beautifully orchestrated, and emoted to a tee. Through dance Fred and Ginger express love, love lost, anger, giddiness, joy, despair, tragedy. The movies usually feature at least two main routines for the couple, one a fun, lighthearted affair and the other a serious, dramatic turn, depending on where in the story the dance takes place. These dance routines take precedence in the films above all other elements and are, ultimately, what create the Astaire-Rogers legend, each its own priceless gem. For this dance through history the focus is on the dance routines, which were born out of the RKO story.

RKO was born RKO Radio Pictures in October 1928 as the first motion picture studio created solely for the production of talking pictures by David Sarnoff and Joseph Kennedy as they met in a Manhattan oyster bar. Radio-Keith-Orpheum (RKO) resulted from the merger of the Radio Corporation of America, the Film Booking Offices of America, and the Keith-Albee-Orpheum circuit of vaudeville houses.

In its first year, RKO did well by producing about a dozen pictures, mostly film versions of stage plays. The studio doubled that number the following year and was established as a major studio with the Academy Award-winning Cimarron (1931) directed by Wesley Ruggles. Unfortunately, that film’s success did not result in money for the studio. That year RKO lost more than $5 million, which resulted in the hiring of David O. Selznick to head production. Selznick immediately looked to stars to bring audiences into theaters. The first place he looked was the New York stage where he found and contracted Katharine Hepburn whom he placed in the hands of George Cukor for Bill of Divorcement (1932) opposite John Barrymore. Hepburn became a star and the movie was a hit, but RKO’s fortunes did not improve making 1932 another difficult year. Enter Merian C. Cooper and a giant ape. David O. Selznick had made Cooper his assistant at RKO.

The idea of King Kong had lived in Cooper’s imagination since he was a child, but he never thought it could come to fruition until his time at RKO. It was there that Cooper met Willis O’Brien, a special effects wizard who was experimenting with stop motion animation.

King Kong premiered in March 1933 to enthusiastic audiences and reviews. RKO’s financial troubles were such, however, that even the eighth wonder of the world could not save it. David O. Selznick left RKO for MGM and Merian Cooper took over as head of production tasked with saving the studio. Cooper tried releasing a picture a week and employing directors like Mark Sandrich and George Stevens. Of the two Sandrich made an important splash early with So This Is Harris! (1933), a musical comedy short that won the Academy Award for Best Short Subject. This short paved the way for RKO’s memorable musicals of the decade, the first of which introduced future megastars Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers as a dancing duo.

“I’d like to try this thing just once” he says as he pulls her to the dance floor.

“We’ll show them a thing or three,” she responds.

And they did. For the movie studio permanently on the verge of bankruptcy Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers proved saving graces. Pandro S. Berman, who produced several of the Astaire-Rogers movies, said “we were very fortunate we came up with the Astaire-Rogers series when we did.”

Fred Astaire was born Frederick Austerlitz II on May 10, 1899 in Omaha, Nebraska. Fred began performing at about the age of four with his older sister Adele. Their mother took them to New York in 1903 where they began performing in vaudeville as a specialty act. Of the two it was Adele, by all accounts a charmer on stage and off, who got the better reviews and was seen as the natural talent.

By the time Fred was ten years old, he and his sister were making about $50 a week on the famed Orpheum Circuit. As they traveled the country, their reputation grew and by 14 Fred had taken over the responsibility of creating steps and routines for their act. He also hunted for new songs as he was able, which led to a chance meeting in 1916 with then song plugger George Gershwin. Although the two did not work together then, they’d have profound effects on each other’s careers in the future, including the Astaires headlining George and Ira Gershwin’s first full-length New York musical, Lady, Be Good! in 1924.

Unlike her driven brother, Adele did not even like to rehearse. For Fred’s constant badgering to rehearse she ascribed him the nickname “Moaning Minnie.” Fred later admitted the nickname fit because he worried about everything. Between Fred’s attention to detail and Adele’s charm for an audience, the Astaire’s reviews usually read like this, “Nothing like them since the flood!”

Fred and Adele made it to Broadway in 1917 with Over the Top, a musical revue in two acts, and never looked back. Their other hits in New York and London included the Gershwin smash, Funny Face (1927), where Adele got to introduce “‘S Wonderful” and the Schwartz-Dietz production of The Band Wagon (1931), Adele’s final show before retiring to marry Lord Charles Cavendish in 1932. At the time she and her brother Fred were the toast of Broadway.

The Astaires, Adele and Fred

After his sister retired, Fred starred in Cole Porter’s A Gay Divorce, his last Broadway show before heading west to Hollywood where he was signed by David O. Selznick at RKO. Legend goes that of Fred Astaire someone in Hollywood said after watching his screen tests, “Can’t act; slightly bald; can dance a little.” If true, those are words by someone who had a terrible eye for talent, but I doubt they are true because at the time Fred Astaire was a huge international star. The likelihood that someone in Hollywood didn’t know that is slim. David O. Selznick had seen Fred Astaire on Broadway and described him as “next to Leslie Howard, the most charming man on the American stage.” What was true is that Fred Astaire did not look like the typical movie star. He was 34 years old at the time, an age considered old for movie stardom. In fact, Astaire’s mother insisted he should just retire since he’d been in the business from such a young age. We can only be thankful he ignored her request.

Not sure what to do with him, or perhaps to see what he could do, Selznick lent Astaire to MGM where he made his first picture dancing with Joan Crawford in Robert Z. Leonard’s Dancing Lady (1933). Flying Down to Rio experienced some delays, but it was ready to go after Dancing Lady so Fred returned to RKO to do “The Carioca” with a contract player named Ginger Rogers.

By the time Fred Astaire made his first picture, Ginger Rogers had made about 20. She was under contract with RKO and excelled at sassy, down-to-Earth types. In 1933 Ginger had gotten lots of attention singing “We’re in the money” in Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933) and in 42nd Street. She did not have top billing in either of those, but the public noticed her.

Ginger Rogers was born Virginia Katherine McMath in Independence, Missouri on July 16, 1911. Her first few years of life were confusing ones. Her parents were divorced and Ginger was kidnapped by her father until her mother, Lelee (or Lela), took him to court. In need of a job, Ginger’s mother left her with her grandparents while looking for a job as a scriptwriter.

Lelee met and married John Rogers in 1920 and, for all intents and purposes, he became Ginger’s father. The family moved to Dallas where, at the age of 14, Ginger won a Charleston contest, going on to become Charleston champion dancer of Texas. The prize was a 4-week contract on the Vaudeville Interstate circuit. Lela took management of her daughter and put together an act called “Ginger and Her Redheads.” Ginger continued to perform on her own after the Redheads were disbanded eventually going to New York where she was seen by the owner of the Mocambo night club who recommended her to friends for the Broadway show Top Speed.

Ginger was making two-reelers in New York when she was offered a Paramount contract making her feature appearance in Monta Bell’s Young Man of Manhattan (1930) starring Claudette Colbert. At about that time, she was cast as the lead in the Gershwin musical Girl Crazy, which – by happenstance one afternoon – offered her the opportunity to dance with Fred Astaire for the first time ever. Astaire had been brought in to the Girl Crazy production to see if he could offer suggestions for the routines. Ginger was asked to show him one of the main numbers to which he said, “Here Ginger, try it with me.”

After that Ginger and Lela headed to Hollywood and the picture business in earnest. Ginger made a few forgettable pictures for Pathé before being cast as Anytime Annie in 42nd Street and singing that number about money in Golddiggers of 1933. Both of those gave Ginger Rogers ample opportunity to show off her comedic skills. These types of parts, funny flappers, were definitely in the cards for Ginger Rogers until fate intervened when Dorothy Jordan, who was scheduled to dance “The Carioca” with Fred Astaire in Flying Down to Rio, married Merian C. Cooper instead. Ginger was by now under contract with RKO and was rushed onto the set of Flying Down to Rio three days after shooting had started.

“They get up and dance” in 1933

The stage direction in the original screenplay for Flying Down to Rio simply read, “they get up and dance.” Ginger Rogers was billed fourth and Fred Astaire fifth showing she was the bigger star at the time. In looking at Astaire and Rogers doing “The Carioca” in Flying Down to Rio one doesn’t get the impression that these are legends in the making. Ginger agreed as she wrote in her memoir that she never would have imagined what was to come from that dance. “The Carioca” is exuberant, youthful, and fun, but certainly lesser than most of the routines the couple would perform in subsequent films. I say that because we can now make a comparison. At the time audiences went crazy for “The Carioca” and the dancers who performed it, their only number together in the Flying Down to Rio and only role aside from the comic relief they provide. The picture was, after all, a Dolores Del Rio and Gene Raymond vehicle.

Doing the Carioca in Flying Down to Rio

Hermes Pan’s first assignment at RKO was to find Fred Astaire on stage 8 to see if he could offer assistance. Fred showed him a routine and explained he was stuck in a part for the tap solo in Flying Down to Rio. Hermes offered a suggestion and another legendary movie pairing was made. Pan worked on 17 Astaire musicals thus playing a key role is making Fred Astaire the most famous dancer in the world.

Pan explained that he went to early previews of Flying Down to Rio and was surprised to see the audience cheer and applaud after “The Carioca” number. The studio knew they had something big here and decided to capitalize on the Astaire-Rogers pairing.

When RKO approached Fred Astaire about making another picture paired with Ginger Rogers, Astaire refused. After years being part of a duo with Adele, the last thing he wanted was to be paired permanently with another dancer. If he was to do another picture he wanted an English dancer as his partner, they were more refined. Pandro Berman told him, “the audience likes Ginger” and that was that. Astaire was at some point given a percentage of the profits from these pictures and the worries about working with Ginger subsided. Ginger’s contribution to the pairing was not considered important enough to merit a percentage of the profits.

The Gay Divorcee (1934)

The Gay Divorcee offers ample opportunity to fall in love with the Astaire-Rogers mystique. The first is a beautiful number shot against a green screen backdrop, Cole Porter’s “Night and Day.” Fred as Guy professes his love for Mimi (Ginger), mesmerizing her with dance until she is completely taken by the end. He, so satisfied, offers her a cigarette.

Later in the film the two, now reconciled after a huge mix-up, dance “The Continental.” The song is introduced by Ginger who is swept off her feet to join the crowd in the elaborate production number. Needless to say Fred and Ginger clear the floor with outstanding choreography. “The Continental” sequence lasts over 17 minutes, the longest ever in a musical holding that record until Gene Kelly’s 18-minute ballet in An American in Paris in 1951. “The Continental” was clearly intended to capture the excitement of “The Carioca” and exceeds that by eons with enthusiasm and gorgeous execution by these two people whose chemistry is palpable. No one could have known if either Fred or Ginger could carry a movie, but The Gay Divorcee proved they were stars of unique magnitude. For 85 years dance on film has never been bettered and that’s why I celebrate this anniversary with all the enthusiasm I could muster as my contribution to The Anniversary Blogathon sponsored by the Classic Movie Blog Association (CMBA), which is celebrating its tenth year of classic love.

Doing The Continental in The Gay Divorcee

Fred always gets a solo number in these pictures, by the way and, as you’d expect, they’re wonderful. Many times these take place in hotel rooms all of which – luckily – have fantastic floors for tap dancing. In addition, The Gay Divorcee has the added attraction of a routine with Edward Everett Horton and Betty Grable, who has a small part in the picture.

Fred Astaire and Hermes Pan would begin work on the routines up to six weeks before the principal photography was scheduled to start on the pictures. Pan played Ginger’s part and would teach her the routines once she arrived to start rehearsals. Her part was long and arduous and Fred Astaire always said he admired her work ethic as she gave everything she had to make those routines memorable and match him move for move. Fred was also impressed by Ginger being the only one of his female partners who never cried. As they say, she did everything he did “backwards and in heels,” which by the way, is a phrase born in the following Frank and Ernest cartoon.

The unfailing result of their work together is absolute beauty in human form. Ginger Rogers completely gave herself to Fred Astaire, was entirely pliable to his every whim in dance. This is why they became legend. Fred may have partnered with better dancers and I certainly cannot say whether that’s true or not, but what he had with Ginger Rogers was special. The Gay Divorcee was only the beginning.

As for working with Fred again, Ginger had no worries. She enjoyed the partnership and the dancing and was fulfilled by doing various other parts at the same time. While Fred and Hermes worked on the routines she was able to make small pictures for different studios appearing in seven in 1934 alone.

Roberta (1935)

Fred and Ginger’s next movie together is William Seiter’s Roberta where they share billing with one of RKO’s biggest stars and greatest talents, Irene Dunne. Here, Fred and Ginger have the secondary love affair as old friends who fall in love in the end. As they do in most of their movies, Fred and Ginger also provide much of the laughs. The primary romantic pairing in Roberta is between Dunne and Randolph Scott.

The film’s title, Roberta is the name of a fashionable Paris dress shop owned by John Kent’s (Scott) aunt and where Stephanie (Dunne) works as the owner’s secretary, assistant, and head designer. The two instantly fall for each other.

Huck Haines (Astaire) is a musician and John’s friend who runs into the hateful Countess Scharwenka at the dress shop. Except Scharwenka is really Huck’s childhood friend and old love, Lizzie Gatz (Rogers). Fred and Ginger are wonderful in this movie, which strays from the formula of most of their other movies except for the plot between Irene Dunne and Randolph Scott, which is actually similar to that of other Astaire-Rogers movies. Again, aside from the dancing Fred and Ginger offer the movie’s comic relief and do so in memorable style with Ginger the standout in that regard.

There are quite a few enjoyable musical numbers in Roberta. Huck’s band performs a couple and Irene Dunne sings several songs including the gorgeous “When Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” and a beautiful sequence on stairs during a fashion show to “Lovely to Look At,” which received the film’s only Academy Award nomination for Best Music, Original Song. That number transitions into a Fred and Ginger duet and dance to “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” followed closely by an exuberant finale number.

Fred and Ginger in Roberta

Early in Roberta, at the Cafe Russe, Ginger is delightful singing “I’ll be Hard to Handle” with the band. She and Fred follow with a supremely enjoyable duet with their feet, a routine where each answers the other with taps. I believe there were requests for them to re-record the taps after the live taping as you can hear Ginger laughing during the routine, but Fred insisted to leave it as is. The result is a relaxed, wonderfully entertaining sequence I hadn’t seen in years. The pantsuit Ginger wears during this number is fabulous.

I’ll Be Hard to Handle routine in Roberta

Later, Ginger and Fred sing a duet to “I Won’t Dance” with Fred following with an extraordinary solo routine. This may be my favorite of his solo sequences, which includes an unbelievably fast ending.

Astaire in Roberta

Fred Astaire was perfection on the dance floor and, as many have said, seemed to dance on air. None of it came without excruciating hard work, however. Astaire was known for rehearsing and losing sleep until he felt every movement in every sequence was perfect. He stated he would lose up to 15 pounds during the rehearsals for these films. Clearly, nothing had changed since his days preparing for the stage with his sister.

Fred Astaire fretted over routines constantly. He could not even stand looking at the rushes himself so he would send Hermes Pan to look and report back. Astaire admitted that even looking at these routines decades later caused him angst. Of course, his absolute dedication to perfection, pre-planning even the smallest detail of every dance number, resulted in much of the legend of Fred and Ginger. Fred’s demands on set also made the pictures epic among musicals. Astaire insisted, for instance, to shoot every single sequence in one shot, with no edits. He also insisted that their entire bodies be filmed for every dance number and that taps be recorded live. He was known to say that either the camera moved or he moved. One of the cameramen at RKO who worked on the Astaire-Rogers pictures said that keeping Fred and Ginger’s feet in the frame was the biggest challenge. All of these Fred Astaire stipulations ensured that the performances are still moving many decades after they were filmed and all of them are as much a statement in endurance as they are in artistry.

Top Hat

Directed by Mark Sandrich, Top Hat is the first film written expressly for Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers by Deight Taylor and Alan Scott and feels bigger from its catchy opening sequence on forward than the other movies in the series to this point. This is perhaps the most well regarded of the Astaire-Rogers movie pairings and it’s no wonder because it’s delightful even though it shares several similarities with The Gay Divorcee. Joining Fred and Ginger once again are Edward Everett Horton in the second of three Fred and Ginger pictures he made, Eric Blore in the third of five, and Erik Rhodes in his second. To my delight Rhodes dons that wonderful, hilarious Italian accent, which by the way, got him barred by Mussolini. Joining the group in this picture is Helen Broderick as Madge Hardwick, Horton’s wife.

The story in Top Hat begins when Fred as Jerry Travers meets Ginger as Dale Tremont when he wakes her up by tap dancing in the hotel room above hers. She is naturally annoyed, but warms up to him fairly quickly the next day as he seeks her favor with Irving Berlin’s “Isn’t This a Lovely Day?” when the two are in a gazebo during a rainstorm. The song ends in a wonderful dance sequence that starts off as a challenge, but warms to affection. I should add we see here what we see in many Astaire-Rogers routines that is so darn exciting – when they don’t touch. The gazebo number is not as emotionally charged as others the couple executes because it is the lighthearted one in the picture, the one during which he woos her with dance. By the end of this number she is sold on him and what prospects may lay ahead.

It’s a lovely day to be caught in the rain from Top Hat

Unfortunately, after the gazebo number some confusion ensues as Dale believes Jerry is married to one of her friends. This is the requisite mistaken identity. It is Horace Hardwick (Horton) who’s married, not Jerry. Some innocent games and trickery take place before Dale is hurt and Jerry has to win her over once again. Then heaven appears.

“Heaven, I’m in heaven And the cares that hung around me through the week Seem to vanish like a gambler’s lucky streak When we’re out together dancing cheek to cheek”

These songs are standards for a reason. It just does not get better than that.

To continue the story – at the insistence of Madge Hardwick, Dale and Jerry dance as he sings those lyrics to her. She is mesmerized, wanting to believe him wearing that famous feather dress. They move onto a terrace in each other’s arms as the music swells.

A gorgeous, sexy backbend during Cheek to Cheek in Top Hat

Once again, the song is over and her heart is stolen. She’s seduced. And so are we.

One of the few times Ginger seriously disagreed with Fred concerning a routine was her stance on the feather dress for the “Cheek to Cheek” sequence. Fred hated it. During the number feathers went everywhere, including in his face and on his tuxedo. Ginger designed the dress and insisted she wear it, despite the cost of $1,500 worth of ostrich feathers. She was right. While you can see feathers coming off the dress during the number, none are seen on Fred’s tuxedo, but it doesn’t matter because it moves beautifully and adds immeasurably to the routine.

The feather dress didn’t stay there. In fact, it stayed with Ginger for some time as thereafter, Astaire nicknamed her “Feathers.” After what Ginger described as a difficult few days following the feather dress uproar, she was in her dressing room when a plain white box was delivered. Inside was a note that read, “Dear Feathers. I love ya! Fred”

Fred Astaire has two solo routines in Top Hat, “No Strings” at the beginning of the movie, the tap dance that wakes Dale, and “Top Hat, White Tie and Tails,” a signature production number considered one of his best.

Following in the tradition of “The Carioca” and “The Continental,” Top Hat features “The Piccolino,” an extravagant production number with song introduced by Ginger who said that Fred was supposed to sing the tune and hated it so he told Sandrich to give it to Ginger. In any case, she and Fred join the festivities with only their feet visible heading toward the dance floor, reminiscent of the movie’s opening sequence. It’s quite the rush as you see their feet advancing toward the dance floor, I must say.

“The Piccolino” is lively and fun, a terrific routine with a fun ending as the two end the number by sitting back at their table with Ginger having to fix her dress, a beautiful dress that made it to the Smithsonian.

Fred and Ginger doing The Piccolino

Top Hat premiered at New York’s Radio City Music Hall to record crowds. Added security had to be sent to the venue to ensure order. The movie went on to gross $3 million on its initial release, and became RKO’s most profitable film of the 1930s.

Follow the Fleet (1936)

Mark Sandrich was back to direct Follow the Fleet, which I have a huge affection for. The Irving Berlin score in this film is superb with songs that take me back to my childhood and the memory of watching them on Saturday nights on our local PBS station. Fred, Ginger, Sandrich and the crew of Follow the Fleet heard about the record numbers of moviegoers attending Top Hat as they gathered to begin shooting this movie. The excitement certainly inspired them to make Follow the Fleet the cheerful, energetic movie it is. Although, Ginger hoped that by this, their third movie together, Mark Sandrich would recognize her worth it was not to be. She discusses his dislike of her a lot in her book.

Like in Roberta, Fred and Ginger’s relationship in Follow the Fleet is that of the secondary romantic couple supplying the laughs in the film despite the fact that they get top billing. The primary romance here is the one between Harriet Hilliard (in her first feature film) and Randolph Scott. The story is simple, Bake Baker (Astaire) and Bilge (Scott) visit the Paradise Ballroom in San Francisco while on Navy leave. At the ballroom are Connie Martin (Hilliard), who is immediately taken with Bilge, and her sister Sherry (Rogers), the dance hostess at the ballroom who also happens to be the ex-girlfriend of Bake’s. Sherry and Bake reunite by joining a dance contest and winning (of course), but it costs Sherry her job.

In the meantime, Connie starts talking about marriage to Bilge who is instantly spooked sending him into the arms of a party girl. Bake tries to get Sherry a job in a show, which entails a mistaken identity amid more confusion until things clear up and the two are successful, heading toward the Broadway stage. The confusion here comes by way of some bicarbonate of soda, in case you’re wondering.

Follow the Fleet is a hoot with several aspects straying from the usual Fred-Ginger formula. To begin, Fred Astaire puts aside his debonair self and replaces him with a much more informal, smoking, gum-chewing average guy. It’s enjoyable seeing him try to be common. Fred opens the movie with Berlin’s wonderful “We Saw the Sea,” the words to which I remembered during the last viewing, quite the surprise since I had not seen Follow the Fleet in decades. Later in the movie he gets another solo tap routine on deck of his ship with fellow seamen as accompaniment. Both instances are supremely enjoyable as one would expect.

Fred during one of his solo routines in Follow the Fleet

Ginger does a great rendition of “Let Yourself Go” with Betty Grable as a back-up singer. A bit later there’s a reprise of the fabulous song during the contest, the dance reunion of Bake and Sherry. According to Ginger, a search through all of Hollywood took place in hopes of finding other couples who could compete with Fred and her. This may already be getting old, but here you have another energetic, enjoyable routine by these two masters. The whistles from the crowd at the Paradise Ballroom show the audience enjoy it as well.

The Let Yourself Go routine during the dance contest in Follow the Fleet

As part of an audition, Ginger gets to do a solo tap routine, a rarity in these movies and it’s particularly enjoyable to watch. Unfortunately, Sherry doesn’t get the job as a result of the audition even though she’s the best the producer has seen. Thinking that he’s getting rid of her competition (mistaken identity), Bake prepares a bicarbonate of soda drink, which renders the singer incapable of singing. Sherry drinks it and burps her way through the audition.

Sherry during the rehearsal, a solo tap for Ginger in Follow the Fleet

Now rehearsing for a show, Bake and Sherry sing “I’m Putting All My Eggs in One Basket” followed by a wonderfully amusing routine where Ginger gets caught up in steps leaving Fred to constantly try to get her to move along. During the number the music also changes constantly and they have fun trying to stay in step be in a waltz or jazz or any number of music moods. This routine is a rare one for Fred and Ginger whose dance sequences are usually step perfect. It looks like they have a blast with this including a few falls and a fight instigated by Ginger.

“Eggs in One Basket” routine from Follow the Fleet

Fred and Ginger follow the comical exchange in “I’m Putting All My Eggs in One Basket,” with one of their greatest sequences, another rarity in that this one happens out of character for both in the movie. The wonderful “Let’s Face the Music and Dance” and the routine to it make as iconic an Astaire-Rogers sequence as has ever put on film. The song and the performance tell a mini story outside of the confines of the plot. This is a grim tale executed with extraordinary beauty as we see two suicidal people happen upon each other and are saved from despair through dance. Again, kudos to Berlin’s genius because the lyrics of this song are sublime.

“There may be trouble ahead But while there’s moonlight and music And love and romance Let’s face the music and dance”

Ginger is a vision as Fred guides her across the dance floor. The dance starts off with a sway, they are not touching, he’s leading her, but she’s despondent at first, unable to react to his urging that there is something to live for. As that beautiful music advances she responds and in the process conquers demons. The routine ends as the music dictates in dramatic fashion with a lunge, they are both now victorious and strong. Magnificent. The movie concludes minutes later because…what more is there to say?

“Let’s Face the Music and Dance” Fred and Ginger

Ginger in beaded dress for “Let’s Face the Music and Dance”

Ginger is wearing another legendary dress in the “Let’s Face the Music and Dance” routine. Created by one of her favorite designers, Bernard Newman, the dress weighed somewhere between 25 and 35 pounds. The entire thing was beaded and moved beautifully along with Ginger. Fred Astaire told the story of how one of the heavy sleeves hit him in the face hard during the first spin in the dance. They did the routine about 12 times and Sandrich decided on the first. If you look closely you can see Fred flinch a bit as Ginger twirls with heavy sleeves near his face at the beginning of the dance, which is affecting, beautifully acted by both, but particularly Ginger in the arms of Fred Astaire.

Lucille Ball plays a small role in Follow the Fleet and can be seen throughout the film and a couple of times during the “Let’s Face the Music and Dance” sequence. Also, Betty Grable makes an appearance in a supporting role. Harriet Hilliard sings two songs in Follow the Fleet as well, but to little fanfare.

By Follow the Fleet Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers were top box office draws as a team. America was in love with Fred and Ginger. And they still hadn’t reached the apex of dance.

Swing Time (1936)

Swing Time was directed by George Stevens, his first musical, made when he was the top director at RKO Pictures. As I watched these films in succession I noticed something I never had before, Fred and Ginger’s dancing in Swing Time is more mature than in previous films. The emotionally-charged “Never Gonna Dance” sequence has always been my favorite, but I had never considered that it is because Astaire and Rogers are at their peak. This, they’re fifth starring outing as a pair, is their best.

The plot of Swing Time is similar to that of Top Hat to include the ever-present mistaken identity theme, but this movie is wittier and more inventive and clever surrounding memorable songs by Dorothy Fields and Jerome Kern. The story here begins as dancer and gambler, Lucky Garnett (Astaire) arrives late for his own wedding to Margaret Watson (Betty Furness). Angry at the young man’s audacity, the father of the bride tells Lucky that the only way he can marry his daughter is to go to New York and become a success. Lucky heads East with his lucky quarter and constant companion Pop Cardetti (Victor Moore).

Once in New York the stage is set for a chance meeting between Lucky and Penny Carroll (Rogers). The encounter leads to the first routine in the movie to the glorious “Pick Yourself Up” at the dance academy where Penny works as an instructor. The exchange leading up to the dance sequence is quite enjoyable as Lucky makes believe he can’t dance as Penny tries in vain to teach him. His fumbling on his feet causes her to be fired by the furious head of the dance studio, Mr. Gordon (Eric Blore). To make it up to Penny, Lucky pulls her to the dance floor to show Gordon how much she has taught him and she delights in seeing his amazing dancing ability. The routine that ensues is energetic, fun, and the movie’s acquaintance dance after which Penny is completely taken with Lucky.

During the “Pick Yourself Up” routine in Swing Time

Watching Ginger transition from angry to incredulous to gloriously surprised to such confidence that the dance floor can’t even contain them is simply wonderful. As the dance progresses her joy grows naturally illustrated by such details as throwing her head back or giggling as Fred, who’s the wiser, wows her. And she, in turn, gives Gordon a few hard looks as he sits there making memorable Eric Blore faces. At the end of the dance their relationship is different and Gordon is so impressed he gets them an audition at the Silver Sandal Nightclub where they enchant the patrons and are hired. Incidentally, since Fred’s mood, shall we say, is what initiates and dictates these routines he has little emotional change through these mini stories. The journey is mostly all hers.

Before they do the nightclub act, Lucky sings “The Way You Look Tonight” to Penny while her hair is full of shampoo. The song won the Academy Award for Best Music, Original Song. Penny and Lucky are now in love. That night at the nightclub, Penny tells Lucky that bandleader Ricardo Romero (Georges Metaxa) has asked her to marry him many times so it’s no surprise when Romero squashes their chance to perform. That is until Lucky wins Romero’s contract gambling and sets the stage for the “Waltz in Swing Time”

“The Waltz in Swing Time” seems to me to be one of the most complex of the Astaire-Rogers dance sequences. Performed at the gorgeous art deco club, this routine is as airy as it is masterful. Fred and Ginger lovingly looking at each other throughout as twists and turns and light taps happen around them. Gosh, they are awe-inspiring.

The Waltz in Swing Time

The next day Lucky does all he can to avoid a love-making scene with Penny. He’s in love with her, but remembers he’s engaged to another woman and hasn’t told her. Meanwhile Pop spills the beans to Mabel (Helen Broderick, the fourth wheel in this ensemble.) A kissless Penny and a frustrated Lucky sing “A Fine Romance” out in the country and Ginger once again gives a lesson in acting. I’ve noted in other posts about how acting in song is never taken too seriously by people and this is another example. Ginger Roger’s reviews in these films were often mediocre with the praise usually going entirely Astaire’s way. Admittedly, Astaire-Rogers films are not dramatic landscapes that allow for much range, but the fact that Ginger manages believable turns in the routines and in all of the sung performances should be noted. She had an air of not taking the films and roles too seriously, but still managed a wide range of emotion, particularly when the time came to emote in dance. That only made her all the better and often the best thing in the movies aside from the dancing.

Fred Astaire has a wonderful production number, “The Bojangles of Harlem,” in Swing Time even though he performs in blackface. The number is intended to honor dancers like Bill ‘Bojangles’ Robinson who were influential to Fred Astaire. Aside from Fred’s indelible dancing in the sequence, the number is memorable for introducing special effects into Fred Astaire dance routines as he dances with huge shadows of himself. The effect was achieved by shooting the routine twice under different lighting. “Bojangles of Harlem” earned Hermes Pan an Academy Award nomination for Best Dance Direction.

As our story continues – Penny and Lucky are definitely into each other and Ricardo is still wooing Penny when Margaret shows up to spoil the festivities. Actually, she comes to tell Lucky she’s in love with someone else, but doesn’t have a chance to say it before Penny is heartbroken.

And so here we are…we see Penny and Ricardo talking. Given the situation with Lucky – his impending marriage and his losing their contract while gambling – she feels she has no choice but to marry Ricardo. Lucky walks in. Two heartbroken people stand at the foot of majestic stairs as he begins to tell her he’ll never dance again. Imagine that tragedy. The music shifts to “The Way You Look Tonight” and “The Waltz in Swing Time” throughout. Ginger, who had gone up the stairs, descends and the two walk dejectedly across the floor holding hands. The walks gathers a quiet rhythm until they are in each other’s arms dancing. Still, she resists, attempts to walk away, but he refuses to let her go until she succumbs, joining him in energetic rhythm, two people in perfect sync as the music shifts to past moments in their lives together – shifts between loud and quiet, fast and slow, together and apart – mimicking the turmoil of the characters in that time and place.

Ginger’s dress here is elegantly simple as if not to detract from the emotion of the piece, which is intense. Everything about this routine is absolutely gorgeous.

Fred and Ginger split toward the end of the number, each going up an opposite staircase on the elaborate set. They reach the top where the music reaches its crescendo. The two dance, a flurry of turbulent spins. Until she runs off leaving him shattered. And me.

To my knowledge, the “Never Gonna Dance” sequence in the only one where a cut had to happen during the dance in order to get the cameras to the top of the stairs. This is the famous routine that made Ginger’s feet bleed. One of the crew noticed her shoes were pink and it turned out to be that they were blood-soaked. Also notable is that the number was shot over 60 times according to Ginger and several other people there. At one point George Stevens told them all to go home for the night, but Fred and Ginger insisted on giving it one more try. That was the take that’s in the movie. Once done the crew responded enthusiastically.

In the end of Swing Time, as is supposed to happen, Lucky manages to interrupt Penny’s marriage to Ricardo and makes her all his own.

Ginger looks stunning in Swing Time. For details on her Bernard Newman designs in the film I suggest you visit the Glam Amor’s Style Essentials entry on this film.

Despite the many wonderful things about Swing Time, the movie marked the beginning of audience response to Fred and Ginger movies declining. The movie was still a hit, but receipts came in slower than expected. The Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers partnership never quite gained the same momentum as it did up to this point in their careers together. Although the pair was still an asset for RKO and they had many more memorable on-screen moments to share.

Shall We Dance (1937)

In 1937 Astaire and Rogers made Shall We Dance with Mark Sandrich at the helm once again. Edward Everett Horton and Eric Blore are also on hand for the film that featured the first Hollywood film score by George and Ira Gershwin.

The plot of Shall We Dance is a bit convoluted, but still enjoyable. Fred plays Peter P. Peters a famous ballet dancer billed as “Petrov” who yearns to do modern dance. One day he sees a picture of famous tap dancer Linda Keene (Ginger) and sees a great opportunity to blend their styles. Similar to their other movies, Fred falls in love with Ginger at first sight. It takes her longer to recognize his graces, but eventually falls hard for him too. That is, after many shenanigans and much confusion when she gets angry and hurt and then he has to win her over again.

Fred has a terrific solo routine here with “Slap That Base,” which takes place in an engine room using the varied engine and steam sounds to tap to. Ginger later does an enjoyable rendition of the Gershwin classic, “They All Laughed (at Christopher Columbus),” which leads to a fun tap routine for the duo. For this Ginger is wearing that memorable flowered dress by Irene who dressed her for this movie. This “They All Laughed” sequence is where he woos her and where she cannot help falling for him.

Soon after “They All Laughed” Fred and Ginger call the whole thing off in the classic sequence that takes place in New York’s Central Park on roller skates. At this point in the story the tabloids have reported the two are married and, having fallen for each other, they don’t know what to do. “Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off” was written by the Gershwins in New York prior to the making of Swing Time. The brothers brought the song with them to Hollywood and it works perfectly in the comedic scene with both Astaire and Rogers taking turns with verses of the catchy tune before starting the roller skating tap routine.

Unable to stop the rumors that they are married, Pete and Linda decide to actually marry in order to later divorce. The problem is that they’re both crazy about each other, which he demonstrates with one of the most romantic songs ever written, “They Can’t Take that Away From Me.” This song was a personal favorite of both Fred and Ginger. So much so, in fact, that the song was used again in their final film together, their 1949 reunion movie, The Barkleys of Broadway. “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” remains the only occasion on film when Fred Astaire permitted the repeat of a song previously performed in another movie.

George Gershwin died two months after Shall We Dance was released in May 1937. He was posthumously nominated for an Academy Award, along with his brother Ira, for Best Original Song for “They Can’t Take That Away From Me.”

The finale of Shall We Dance is an odd production number. Fred dances in front of dozens of women donning Ginger Rogers masks. Pete Peters decided if he can’t dance with Linda Keene then he’ll dance with many of the next best thing. The real Linda joins him for the final act, touched by his attempt to clone her. The end.

Carefree (1938)

Carefree is probably the Astaire-Rogers movie I’ve seen least and it was refreshing to take a new and improved look at it for this tribute. Mark Sandrich directs Fred and Ginger for the last time in this romantic comedy, the shortest of their films, which attempts a new story flavor for our stars with Irving Berlin tunes.

Stephen Arden (Ralph Bellamy) asks his Psychiatrist friend Dr. Tony Flagg (Astaire) to meet with his fiancée Amanda Cooper (Rogers). Immediately we know Arden’s in trouble because Ralph Bellamy never gets the girl, but anyway… Amanda is having trouble committing to marrying Stephen and agrees to see Tony who immediately decides she needs to dream in order for him to decipher her unconscious. After having all sorts of odd foods for dinner Amanda dreams, but of Dr. Tony Flagg, not Stephen. Embarrassed by her dream, Amanda makes up a weird tale, which leads Tony to think she has serious psychological issues that only hypnosis can fix. In slapstick style, Stephen comes by Tony’s office to pick up Amanda and without realizing she’s hypnotized lets her run free on the streets causing all sorts of havoc.

Fed Astaire does a terrific routine early in Carefree where he hits golf balls to music. I know nothing about golf, but recognize this is quite astounding. In a 1970s interview, Fred commented on the scene with some affection saying it was not easy and couldn’t believe he was asked to do another take when the balls were ending off camera.

Amanda’s dream allows for a beautiful, fantasy-like routine to Irving Berlin’s “I Used to Be Color Blind” made famous because Fred and Ginger share the longest kiss here than in any other one of their movies. It happens at the end of the sequence done in slow motion, which definitely causes swooning. About the kiss Fred Astaire said, “Yes, they kept complaining about me not kissing her. So we kissed to make up for all the kisses I had not given Ginger for all those years.” Fred was not a fan of mushy love scenes and preferred to let his kissing with Ginger in movies be alluded to or simple pecks, but he gave in partly to quell the rumors that circulated about he and Ginger not getting along. As Ginger told the story, Fred squirmed and hid as the two reviewed the dance and she delighted in his torture. She explained that neither of them expected the long kiss as it was actually a peck elongated by the slow motion. That day she stopped being the “kissless leading lady.”

The longest kiss Fred and Ginger ever shared on-screen from Carefree

By the way, Ginger is wonderful in the sequence when she’s hypnotized. She gets an opportunity to showcase her comedic skills in similar fashion than she does in Howard Hawks’ Monkey Business (1952) opposite Cary Grant.

At the club one evening Ginger kicks off “The Yam” festivities. According to Ginger this is another instance where Fred didn’t like the song so he pawned it off on her. Who could blame him? Silly at best, “The Yam” is a dance craze that never actually catches fire as it doesn’t have the panache of “The Continental.” These people give it all they have, however, and the evening looks like an enjoyable one. Or, at least I would have loved to be there. Of course Tony joins Amanda in doing “The Yam” before the crowd joins in. As an aside, Life Magazine thought Fred and Ginger doing “The Yam” was worthy of a cover on August 22, 1938.

After yamming it up, Amanda is determined to tell Stephen she’s in love with Tony, but he misunderstands and thinks she professes her love for him. Suddenly Stephen announces their engagement. It’s a total mess that Tony tries to fix through hypnosis, which backfires supremely. Thank goodness everything straightens itself out in the end.

Before getting to the final, exceptional routine in Carefree the supporting cast deserves a mention. Louella Gear joins the fun in Carefree as Aunt Cora, in the same vein as Alice Brady and Helen Broderick in Fred and Ginger movies before her. Hattie McDaniel makes a brief appearance albeit as a maid, but it’s better to see her than not and Jack Carson has a few enjoyable scenes as a brute who works at the psychiatrist’s office.

After Amanda tells Tony she’s in love with him, he hypnotizes her to hate him because he doesn’t want to betray Stephen. When Tony realizes he loves Amanda it’s too late, she’s left his office to be happy with Stephen, avoiding Tony at all costs. But at the club one evening, Tony manages to find a few moments alone with her outside and what results is a sexy number during which she’s completely under his spell. In fact, this may be Fred and Ginger’s sexiest routine. “Change Partners and Dance With Me,” which begins inside as she dances with Stephen, is another beautiful song from Irving Berlin, which received one of the three Academy Award nominations for Carefree for Best Music, Original Song. The other two Oscar nods were for Best Art Direction and Best Music, Scoring.

Howard Greer designed Ginger’s gowns for Carefree and the one she wears in the impassioned “Change Partners and Dance With Me” dance is absolutely stunning.

Ginger is under Fred’s Spell in Carefree

The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle (1939)

The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle directed by H. C. Potter is the ninth of ten dancing partnership films of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, the last of their musicals in the 1930s and for RKO, and the only one of their films based on a true story and real people.

Vernon and Irene Castle were a husband-and-wife team of ballroom dancers and dance teachers who appeared on Broadway and in silent films in the early 20th century. Hugely popular, the Castles were credited with popularizing ballroom dance with a special brand of elegance and style. Their most popular dance was the Castle Walk, which Fred and Ginger do in the movie. In fact, they replicate most of the Castle’s dances as closely to the original as possible. As you’d expect from Fred Astaire.

Irene Castle served as a Technical Advisor on The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle and the story goes that she eventually disowned the film because of the film’s lack of authenticity. In defense of some of the changes though, 1934 censorship restrictions were quite different than those in the 1910s. The differences affected costuming and casting at every level of the film. That said, Variety gave The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle a glowing review and the public received it warmly.

Ginger and Fred as Irene and Vernon Castle

It must be mentioned that The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle features two of the greatest character actors who ever lived. Edna May Oliver plays the Castle’s manager Maggie Sutton and Walter Brennan plays Walter, Irene’s majordomo, for lack of a better word, since she was a child. Both of these characters were changed dramatically for the film due to production code restrictions. The real Maggie Sutton (real name Elizabeth Marbury) was openly a lesbian and the real-life Walter was a black man. Neither of those suited the production code mind for broad appeal across the country.

Fred and Ginger do a fine job in this movie. The dances are pretty if not as elaborate as those Astaire and Rogers performed in their other movies. It is exciting to see them do a Tango, a dance I am particularly fond of. However, there is one other dance sequence in particular that moves me immensely, “The Missouri Waltz” at the Paris Cafe when Vernon returns from the war. The acting in the sequence is superb as you can feel the emotion jumping off of her as he picks her up in a gorgeous move during which she wraps herself around him. It’s stunning.

Ginger wrote in her book about the day they shot “The Missouri Waltz,” the last filmed in the movie and, to everyone’s mind, likely the last number she and Fred would ever do together. RKO was abuzz with rumors and people came from far and wide to watch them shoot it. They came from all around RKO, from Paramount and from Columbia to see this last dance. “This was a very dignified way to end our musical marriage at RKO.”

In 1939, after completing The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle, Astaire and Rogers split as you know. Astaire’s salary demands proved too much for RKO pictures. Fred Astaire went on to make movie musical magic in all manner of ways, both alone and with other outstanding talents, leaving a rich legacy of treasures. Ginger Rogers went on to prove herself a true quadruple threat. We knew by 1939 that she could sing, dance and be funny but now, determined to go into straight drama she reaches the pinnacle with an Academy Award-winning performance in Sam Wood’s, Kitty Foyle in 1940. I recognize Ginger’s dramatic talent in the time I spent watching the many dance routines she did with Fred Astaire, but in a time when movies were seen just once it’s difficult to think of other actors who make the transition from film genre to film genre so seamlessly as she did. Hers was a rare talent.

Since I already dedicated an entire entry to Fred and Ginger as The Barkleys of Broadway, Josh and Dinah Barkley, I will forego a full summary here. For now let’s relive the reunion.

Ten years after she made her last appearance on-screen with Astaire, Ginger Rogers walked onto the set of The Barkleys of Broadway. The cast and crew had tears in their eyes. This was special. She said her “hellos”, kissed Fred Astaire and they got to work. At first Ginger explained that Fred seemed disappointed. Judy Garland was scheduled to make the picture with him, but was replaced by Ginger. All of that doesn’t matter though because as a fan, I cannot fathom what it must have been like for audiences in 1949. If people are out of their minds excited about the release of a superhero film today, if audiences drool over a new and rehashed installment of Spiderman, imagine seeing legends together again after a ten-year sabbatical. I would have had to take a Valium. I get chills just thinking about it, and admit a bit of that happens when I watch The Barkleys of Broadway in my own living room. From the moment I see the opening credits, which are shown while the couple is dancing, quite happily – she in a gold gown and he in a tux, I mean, seriously, I’m verklempt right now. We are all happy to be together again.

Despite their great individual careers the magic of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers together cannot be replicated. And it wasn’t necessarily the dancing, or not the dancing alone, that made them a perfect pair. It was the glances, the touch, and the feel that made them magic. The spell of romance, real for the length of a composition, entranced. We all know Katharine Hepburn’s famous quote, “she gave him sex and he gave her class.” Well, Kate was not wrong. Fred Astaire was never as romantic as when he danced with Ginger. And Ginger, a down-to-Earth beauty, was never as sophisticated as when she danced with Fred.

Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers brought prestige to RKO when it was in desperate need of it and joy to a nation hungry for respite from tough times. In a six-year span they established themselves as the best known, best loved dancing partners in the history of movies and have remained there for 85 years. I’ll end with these words by Roger Ebert, “of all of the places the movies have created, one of the most magical and enduring is the universe of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.”

Sources:

The RKO Story

Ginger: My Story by Ginger Rogers

The Astaires: Fred & Adele by Kathleen Riley

As many Fred Astaire interviews as I could find.

Be sure to visit the Classic Movie Blog Association (CMBA) and The Anniversary Blogathon. There are many fantastic film anniversaries honored for this prestigious event.

85 Years of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers It was 85 years ago this week, in October 1934, that Mark Sandrich’s The Gay Divorcee…

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hillnerd · 6 years ago

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You have written so many beautiful AU Romione headcanons. Please, can I ask you one more? How do you think Ron and Hermione will get together if we have pureblood Grangers and muggle Weasleys with Ron and Ginny being magical.

Thank you! I’m glad you’ve liked them! :D

This one is a doozy because it dramatically changes plot points in certain ways. It ended up becoming quite quite long! D: This dynamic would change Ron’s perspective the most, I feel. Well, here it goes:

The Weasleys lead a simple life. They had a quaint little country house with a lot of property around it where they would pick apples, milk their one cow, tend to chickens, and do all the various property maintenance things one had to do. They had seven children, so it was easy enough to take care of the property without help. Chores and a touch of isolation came with living on a property like this, but it was too beautiful a place for them to think of moving closer to town. It was a long drive to school every morning, since they were further out from the local schools than most of the other children, but there was always a brother or two available to do the drive if Mum was unavailable. His Mum was a stay at home mum, and Dad was a government historical archivist. He loved to fill his shed with various medieval and historical junk. (Basically lots of swords and crossbows to hide from the twins.)

Ron had never felt all that special growing up. He was the sixth boy in a family of seven, they weren’t well off, and he always seemed to get lost in the mix. His oldest brother was handsome, head boy at his school, went on to be financeer- he was always travelling to globe and having wild adventures and mountain climbing. No adventure was as wild as his second brother Charlie’s- he was an amazing footballer and went on to be a zoologist/safari guide. Percy was a brainiac, the twins were funny and athletic. Ginny was the girl. So that left Ron. He was alright at football, great at chess, and that was about it. That, and odd things seemed to happen around him.

Once the twins wouldn’t let him play ball, then all their footballs went completely flat at the same time- only to inflate when Ron was able to play with them. He would go into the yard and find little bugs no one else could see, except Ginny- she said they looked like fairies- but Ron knew fairies weren’t real, so that couldn’t be it. He could just wish to have something in his hand, and half the time it’d be there.

Ginny too seemed to have odd things happen. After watching Peter Pan he and Ginny thought happy thoughts and were able to float a bit. At least he thought he remembered that. It must have been a dream or something- because no one saw and they dismissed it as two children with imaginations gone wild when he and Ginny swore they’d flown.

One time the twins had locked him in a cage at Charlie’s work filled with giant spiders- and he was so scared he must have passed out- because next thing he knew he was on top of the icey cart 100 meters away and being yelled at for climbing there. He couldn’t remember doing it, though!

On his eleventh birthday he got home from school to find a large owl sitting in his open window. The owl blinked at him, then flew right at Ron. He gave a help and dived away, but the owl just perched next to Ron and gave a almost angry hoot. Clutched in its talons were two envelopes. It dropped them at his feet and flew out the window. Ron nervously opened them- one inviting him to ‘Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry’- the other a short note from a person named Minerva McGonagall saying she would be visiting his house at twelve past six to explain everything to him and his parents.

Was this one of the twin’s pranks? The whole thing felt too strange and whimsical to be anything close to true. He went downstairs, envelopes in hand- expecting the twins to be eagerly watching him with those grins they couldn’t conceal when they were about to pull one on him- but neither were paying him any mind as they gathered ingredients from under the sink to try and make homemade napalm again. He tried to ask his mum about the school and the lady saying she’d come to their house- but she was too distracted with dinner and gave a quick ‘that’s nice dear’ as he mentioned the odd list of school supplies he’d received. Ginny was the only one who listened and read over the list.

She smiled ‘could magic really be real? Do you think I could go with you to the school?’

‘I dunno,’ Ron replied, not sure what to make of it. Magic couldn’t be real! Could it?

His dad came home from work and they all sat down to dinner. At 6:12 on the dot there was a knock on the door. Ron and Ginny ran to the door and answered it with eager curiosity.

“I assume you are Ronald Weasley, and that is your sister Ginevra” the tall severe woman said.

His Mum came in to see who it was and was surprised to find a grown adult with a tall pointed witchy hat on her head.

“I’ve come to speak to you about your youngest children. They are very gifted and each have been invited to a special school to teach them magic.”

Their Mum immediately thought it was a twin prank of some sort- but after the lady turned into a cat- the whole family believed her very quickly that this wasn’t a prank.

Ron was a magical wizard- and Ginny a witch. She would have to wait a year to follow- but the two of them were quite different from the rest of the family. Their Mum seemed horrified, and their Dad was almost giddy with excitement. A whole new culture to explore!

Ron, for one, felt something he’d never felt before in his life: special.

It took next to no convincing for their Dad to be onboard, and a good two days for their Mum to agree to it all- but Ron was going to get to go to a different school- where no one knew his brothers, where he would be able to go his own path, and learn magic!

---

Later that year Hermione Granger bounced out of bed before the sun was up- because it was September 1st!

They had known she was magic from a young age, and frequently told her how precocious she was at it. She’d shown accidental magic when she was just three months old. By four she already had memorized many of the spells her mother and father used around the house, and she knew Hogwarts: A History backwards and forwards. She had a rather lonely childhood, with both her parents being Healers and board directors at St Mungos- so spent most of her time with their House-elf Snoozy. She knew other children of course- almost all pureblood, but she’d been tutored at home and hadn’t ever gotten to go to a real school before.

Her favorite tutor, Mr Lupin, had been half-blood and he had taught her a lot about muggle culture when she asked. He would get her books on it, and her parents indulged her interest in Muggle things well enough. Her parents also were rather nice about werewolves- they were a rather ‘forward thinking’ family when it came to this and had started a program at St Mungos for it. Some called them Blood traitors, but who cared what supposed followers of You-Know-Who thought. Her family was still part of the Sacred 28, and so was considered respectable enough.

She had gotten her letter for Hogwarts the day she turned eleven, but her birthday was in September- so she had to wait almost a whole year to attend Hogwarts- (A TRAGEDY!) but finally september 1st was here!

She had her robes cleanly pressed and they went to the train station with plenty of time to spare. That’s when she and her mother spotted a redheaded family (with a single trunk) looking about at the numbers with perplexed looks on their faces.

“Which wall are you supposed to run at?” a plump mother asked her children looking about.

“Nine and Three Quarters,” the tiny little girl piped up.

Seeing they were struggling Hermione and her mother helped the family out- showing how to run at the wall. Unfortunately his Muggle relatives would have to be left on the other side of the barrier. His mother gave him a huge hug, as did his three older brothers, and crying little sister- and he went through with the Grangers. Another little boy with black hair followed their lead as well.

Her mother volunteered Hermione as a guide for Ron, and the little boy with glasses watching them, but Hermione didn’t mind. She liked helping people and informing them of things. Plus, she’d never met a real Muggleborn before! She was fascinated to know everything in the world about him and immediately began asking him questions.

---

Ron had never met a more talkative girl in his life. She was helpful, but a bit of a nosy snob. Like if you mixed Percy with reporter. She poked and prodded Ron like he was an alien and he felt overwhelmed by her enthusiasm. Well, she was enthusiastic until she heard the name of the boy who was following them onto the train. Harry Potter!

She started spewing forth information about him, and then acted like Ron was a fool for not knowing anything about him.

‘How would I have? I’m Muggleborn!’

‘Well, if I were Muggleborn I would have read every book I could before I came. Aren’t you afraid you’ll be awfully behind us all?’

That was it- Ron didn’t like her. He decided to get him and Harry (who looked equally nonplussed by her behavior) to their own compartment. He and Harry quickly became best of friends, sharing their strange accidental magic stories, how they both didn’t have much money (well, Harry hadn’t until last month), how scared but excited they were for the magical world! She came back a few times helping some boy named Neville find his pet rat, but they did their best to keep their distance from her.

They ended up sorted into Gryffindor- same as Granger who they did their best to avoid-but the gabby girl kept following them around, and bossing them. Ron finally lost his temper with her in charms when she told him to pronounce things ‘LeviOHsa! Not LevioSAH!’ He complained to Harry about the annoying friendless girl, which lead to her crying in a bathroom- which lead to taking down a troll- that somehow lead to them all three being best friends.

---

the next year Ron and his brothers had to drive their father’s car for hours and hours to save Harry from his relatives. Ron’s parents wanted to report them to protective services, but Dumbledore intervened and said he’d stop this sort of thing from happening again.

Later that year they were all at Diagon Alley- Ron’s dad having the time of his life at the bookstore- when a pureblood said some horrid things about the Grangers associated with ‘Mudbloods’- a word he was not familiar with. The Grangers knew this world, and it nearly came to blows when the Malfoys said such horrible things to Ron and Ginny.

Draco was picking on Ron for his blood status a lot that year- which was hard- but not nearly as hard as when Ginny started withdrawing from Ron. He had been excited to have his little sister join him at Hogwarts- have her look up to him more than his other brothers for once, and have him help her out.

She was very taken with Harry, but got sadder and sadder as the year went on- and kids like them kept getting petrified. Ron and his friends started working to solve the mystery at hand and ended up going into the forest to follow a bunch of spiders. Ron’s wand got broken as a Centaur saved them. Not a few weeks later Ginny nearly died- Hermione Ron and Harry figured it all out though and were able to save her (Hermione and Ron trapped on one side of the rock wall with Lockhart, who got hurt by his own spell with Ron’s wand.) The school pitched in, due to Ron’s bravery, and helped him buy a new wand.

-- Third year Neville won a prize from the paper that summer from the paper and he and his fat old Rat Trevor were featured in an article. Then Sirius Black escaped from azkaban. Dementors around the school made it a terrible year for Harry, and Hermione bought a terrible cat that was terrorizing poor Neville’s rat- but what could they do about it, really?

Ron and Ginny decide to go out as beaters for the quidditch team. He and Gin were a good team and he was glad to have something to get her excited about school again. They both eventually wanted different positions on the team, but it was a good start.

Fast forward to the end of the year. Shrieking shack ended up having 5 kids, as Ginny was so close with the trio, and Neville was chasing down his rat when a dog drags him and the rat into the whoping willow. Hermione already knew Lupin from when he had been her tutor as a younger child, so when he showed up she already knew he was a werewolf and trusted him more- so there was less need for explanations (able to get it all out of the way with before Snape ruined everything)- Sirius gets freed as they were able to shut Lupin into the whomping willow before he turned- and they had enough spare wands to keep Peter in custody. Snape still outs Lupin, sadly.

Sirius got pardoned (acknowledge both in wizard and muggle) and promptly got himself a flat big enough for Harry and other guests. Harry had to continue living with the Dursleys for a reason Dumbledore wouldn’t fully explain- but Sirius was happy to be able to spoil Harry and show up at their doorstep on his motorcycle to intimidate Dursleys into compliance until Harry could come stay with him.

The summer before their fourth year Hermione and Harry were invited to stay at Ron’s house before going on the the World Cup- Sirius had bought them all tickets and was loving that he could spoil them like this. Hermione was able to come a few weeks before Harry and Sirius would join them.

The anticipation had Ron in knots. Ron wasn’t so worried about Harry- he’d grown up Muggle and wouldn’t be all that phased by a rather cramped country house- but Hermione? She grew up in a mansion! A magical one too! His family was one generation out from farmers- something quite quaint to a posh girl like Hermione.

But when she got to his place she didn’t look down on any of it as stupid or odd- she found it all fascinating. The tv was a shock for her. She’d read about them in her Muggle Studies of course, but she had no idea it could be ‘so magical!’ She thought video tapes were about the neatest thing she’d ever seen, and was absolutely taken with glitchy used nintendo they had- the twins Bill and Charlie (the oldest two visiting them for the first time in a few years) had a blast showing her how to use the videogame system and she seemed to enjoy watching them play games both on the tv, and seeing them play football outside.

Ron’s dad and Percy got Hermione talking politics, and she had a whole lot to say. Since Lupin got outed as a werewolf Hermione had been going off about werewolf rights quite a lot. She hadn’t realized how bad things were and that they weren’t treated as equals in society because they weren’t considered human. Dad found it fascinating, of course.

She followed his mum around the kitchen as closely as she did a professor at school. She wasn’t familiar with kitchens much as they had a house elf who did all the cooking at their home.

They all were fascinated to hear more about magical elves that cleaned houses. As she described house elfs in more detail to the family, dad looked at her with concern and started asking about slavery. Hermione was shocked.

‘They’re! Snoozy is NOT a-- a slave!’

‘So you pay her a wage, then?’

‘Well.. n-no….’ Hermione squeaked out. Ron didn’t know what to do, because his dad was right- but he also didn’t like seeing Hermione upset like this.

They had a good sit down just the two of them later that night. Ron quite liked it when it was just him and Hermione like this. They tended to do this when one of them was upset. They just knew to stay by the fireplace long enough, and then they’d have a moment and get to talking about everything bothering them.

“Alright?” Ron asked sitting down. “By the way, sorry about Dad… He doesn’t quite know what to make of wizard stuff sometimes- and I know he didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”

The political awakening of Hermione’s went a bit sour when it’d been pointed out she had a house slave at her own disposal that she didn’t treat as an equal. Ron got a long lecture about the history of elves and traditions he was ignorant of- but she finally talked herself around and realized she had to consider her own actions and lifestyle in contrast to her political ideals. She almost went and freed her elf immediately- but Ron pointed out not every elf was like Dobby- she might end up hurting the elf’s feelings.

The next day Snoozy the elf was quite shocked when ‘Miss Granger’ summoned her to The Burrow, asking the elf OPINION about the state of elfhood in their society, and what elves lives should be like. Snoozy decided she didn’t want to be ‘free’ per se, but that she did like having more personal freedoms and decisions.

Ron was quite proud of Hermione for coming round the way she did. Of course he was always proud of Hermione. She was so smart, and pretty afterall.

(4th year went down the same only Ron and Harry never had their falling out. Harry ended up going to the Yule Ball with Ginny (Again they’re closer than in original series.) but Hermione already had a date. Yule Brawl was still a thing (only Ron’s robes were nicer since Molly didn't have to get dress robes for twins as well.) Weasleys still very protective and invite Harry and Hermione to their place in devon every summer.))

End of fourth year had Ron sitting and pondering things more than usual.

Magic was an odd sort of thing. At times it was amazing. Ron especially loved flying. He wasn’t as good as Harry, but he wasn’t that bad either! He had never been all that fond of school- so essays and the like still were the bane of his existence, but the practical stuff he was learning at Hogwarts was cool. Everything from the sweets to the sports to the music was different from home- so when he came home with adventures even better than Charlie’s or Bill’s- it was a wonderful feeling. And he was the one brother at Hogwarts Ginny had to look up to, making them closer, and making Ron feel needed in a way he hadn’t before Hogwarts.

Ron was usually quite honest with his parents about what went on at the school, and what was going on with the wizarding world. Well, he was honest with his dad. With his Mum he had to couch things a certain way so she wouldn’t lose it. She didn’t quite know that Ron and his friends had nearly died a few times over the years. He’d hoped to keep it that way...

But after what happened with Harry with the third task… Ron wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.

Sirius had smuggled some of the Weasleys over to watch Harry, even though it wasn’t technically legal- but they counted as family, yeah? It was nice to finally get to show his parents and brothers magic, even though it was a day about Harry- it felt nice to get them to see the magical world. Well, it was until the third task ended with a teenage boy dead, and Harry shaking and bleeding and crying.

Everyone was upset about Cedric’s death, and the rumor mills about Voldemort’s return had started churning. Ginny looked particularly pale and worried, but Ron had comforted pretty well- trying to stay positive. But once everyone had gone on to bed, he stayed by the fireplace feeling sick to his stomach. It was well past midnight when he heard Hermione’s voice from the girl’s staircase.

“What are you doing up?”

He can’t even think about sleeping he’s so worried. She comes to sit beside him and asks if he’s alright.

“There’s going to be a war...” he lets out.

“It’s going to be ok. We won a war before, and we can win one again.”

“Yeah but… what’ll happen to me and Ginny until then?”

“You’ll go to school same as always.” Hermione said with certainty.

“No,” Ron says very bluntly. “Voldemort’s back. He almost killed my sister, almost killed by best friend, and now he’s back and I don’t know how I’m supposed to protect everyone.”

“You don’t have to. You’re just a kid. You go to school, and let the adults handle it.”

“Hermione, I don’t have wizard adults to take care of it at home. I only have me. How’s my Mum or Dad supposed to stand up to a Death Eater? How am I supposed to protect my little sister when I can’t legally do magic for another two years? I couldn’t even protect her when we both were in school together and she was being soulsucked by a bleedin’ book.”

“Dumbledore won’t let--”

“He has a bit more important people than me and my sister on his list to protect.”

“You’re very important!”

Ron made a face at this.

“I’m probably the least important person in this school. I’m a poor nobody from nowhere muggleborn. So’s my sister. There’s not going to be resources for us.”

“Then I’ll have to protect you!” Hermione proclaimed.

He had to smile at that- Hermione was a fierce little thing. She was a special one. She always was so certain of who she was, and ready to argue about everything. She was completely naive about what all of this would mean for him and Ginny, but she meant well. She’d never faced a problem she couldn’t conquer- half the time it was because she was so smart and brave- and half because she was rich and pureblood. She didn’t quite get the advantages she had. She tried, bless her. She really tried. She would get all angry and decide to get political about things- like werewolf rights this year- but she couldn’t ever completely get it. He put his hand on hers and gave it a squeeze.

Even if she’d never fully understand, he was glad to have her on his side.

---

Ron gave Hermione a sad kind of smile- like he thought she was foolish- and perhaps she was.

She had to do something to protect people like Ron and Ginny. She had to do something to help protect great teachers like Professor Lupin. She had been so proud of herself for being so very open-eyed and vocal. But now? With Voldemort back, she was feeling quite afraid and useless. What could ONE teenage girl do to help real people. It wasn’t just some political movement of ideals- real people she knew were going to be facing more and more danger. Harry was still in the hospital wing, shaking and barely able to talk to them. And Ron’s eyes were looking uncertain and humorless.

The few days later she and Ron went to hospital wing to visit Harry, and Sirius was back from whatever he’d been doing of ‘getting the old gang together’ for Dumbledore. Harry cut their visit rather short, looking tired and not in any mood to see anyone- that’s when it occurred to Hermione she knew an adult who would be able to help her with Ron!

She pulled Sirius aside- imploring him for any advice. He’d been a pureblood wanting to make a difference in the last war! He was a trusted associate of Dumbledore! And he knew and valued Ron!

“We have to protect Ron and Ginny and their family somehow!”

Sirius agreed, said it was important now more than ever for her to be vocal in her support of Harry and Muggleborns, and for them to all prepare with spells and such in case the war came faster than before. He said he’d do everything he could to protect the Weasleys- he knew how much they meant to Harry and he was grateful- he’d put up some wards perhaps- see if he could get the Order to help. She’d never heard of an ‘Order of the Phoenix’ before. As he explained it to her, Hermione got excited.

“My family. We can do something to help! I know it! My parents will!”

“That’s… that’s a nice thought- but I’m not so sure they will want to sign up for that-”

It was just a matter of convincing her parents. She’d always been so proud of them- Healers who were so kind and benevolent. She knew they’d help!

She got home and immediately felt strange with them. They comfortably went about their lives without taking any risks or making any waves- they were privileged bystanders who did nothing to affect change. It was one thing to stand idly by when no one was in ‘real’ danger- but now, with a war coming- she needed to ask more of them- and for the first time in her life she was uncertain if her parents were as great as she had thought they were.

She mentioned the Weasley family and how to protect them- and her parents didn’t seem to see the threat facing them.

“They’re muggles, so they will be well outside of danger in all this, Hermione,” her father days.

“Not with Ron and Ginny there!”

“Well… Maybe we can invite them over during the summer?” her mother offers.

“What about the other muggleborns? We have to do something!”

“Well we can’t have all of them at our house.”

“What about joining the Order? We can help the Order and really do something to help people.”

“With our schedules…”

Hermione was devastated. They had to know how bad things would get! They had to! They’d lived through it! Comfortably… lived through it… She made up her mind that she would not be a privileged bystander, no matter what her parents did.

She immediately walked into a room full of old heirlooms her parents wouldn’t miss and gathered them into a pile to sell to raise funds. Ron had said there wouldn’t be resources for people like him, and she was right. She needed to make some resources for the Order- and the only way she could think to do it was with money. She emptied her room of anything with worth she didn’t care for and added it to the pile. She Floos over the Sirius Black’s place in Hogsmeade. Lupin and someone named Tonks are there- and are surprised to see her empty an extended carpet bag full of silver and other priceless artifacts on a rug in the living room.

“I want to join the Order!”

“Hermione, you’re only fifteen…” Lupin lets out. It takes a lot of convincing, but she finally relents. Until she’s 17 she can’t be a member, and with great reluctance they allow her funds to go in to help with resources to protect the Weasleys and others. She asks that they not tell Ron (he’s always been proud, and a bit insecure about money) so they agree. First priority would be security measures put in place for the Weasleys.

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

Summer went by quickly, despite all the things that had happened. Harry nearly got expelled for casting a Patronus, they spent a long time cleaning up the Order headquarters, and Ron found that Hermione was looking prettier than she had just a month before he’d seen her again.

By fifth year Ron and Hermione have had some ups and downs (the main issues being when he and Harry ignored her for a few months over Harry broom, and he and Hermione’s falling out at the Yule Ball), but they got on rather splendidly by his reckoning. He’d been made prefect (finally something his mother could understand!) so part of his summer hadn’t been all that bad. He was looking forward to spending prefect rounds with Hermione that year. Harry looked a bit down when they had to do prefect stuff without him- but Harry had Ginny and Neville to hang out with- so it wasn’t so bad.

The thing is, there’s a war coming, and Ron realizes how woefully unprepared he is if something happens as he sits in Umbridge’s useless class. He needs to concentrate on learning as much DADA as he can. He almost quits quidditch, but Hermione of all people convinces him not to, saying how it’s one of the few things she’d seen making him smile since Voldemort came back. He wasn’t that miserable was he? Well… maybe he was… He just didn’t know what to do to protect everyone! Hermione comes up with, what becomes, the D.A.

Later that year Sirius was attacked by a snake at the ministry- Harry had seen the vision of it himself and warned the Order in time to get help to him. As they waited at the Order headquarters, Harry was being held by Ginny, who he’d been getting closer and closer with that year. Hermione floos over as well, holding Ron’s hand as they wait to hear if Sirius had recovered. He miraculously was going to be ok!

As the year progresses, Ron and Hermione flirt more and more, and he’s having a harder time convincing himself to not all out say how much he’s beginning to fancy her. He tried a girly gift of perfume- but nothing much comes of it. They even go to Hogsmeade on Valentine’s day- but it wasn’t romantic- they were there with Luna Lovegood, Ginny, Neville and Rita Skeeter so Harry could give an interview…

At the end of the year Harry has another vision - this time of Ron’s parents being held by Voldemort. Ron and Ginny are apoplectic with fear and rage- and so the trio, neville, ginny and luna rush to contact the Order- and are successful. The vision was a fake- the Weasleys are fine. The Order sets up a trap at the ministry- and are even able to take down some death eaters while still revealing voldemort is indeed back. Everyone seems relieved, but Ron isn’t. He’s even more terrified than he was the year before.

“They know about my family…” Ron moans to himself late at night by the fire just as he’d been the year before. Hermione seems to have a sixth sense for Ron’s low moods, because she’s at his side again. She listens as he tells her about his worries again.

“I think I need to drop out of Hogwarts. I can be at home protecting them, then. I know enough now to do it.”

“And if you cast one spell they might break your wand in two and you won’t be able to protect them at all, or have a future in the wizarding world.”

“What future can I have right now, anyways?” he says, a bit unsurely. He’s not certain the world will be all that friendly to him when it comes to employment.

She assures him that Ron is a very talented wizard, who could have any future he wants, and that she knows he can be an Auror if he just stays with school long enough. She knows that her assurances won’t mean much unless she can back it up with something so Ron knows his family is safe. She confesses what she did the last summer to make sure his family would have security, even if it was just hired security. That’s how the Order knew immediately that Voldemort couldn’t have had his parents. She’s dreading that he’ll be mad at her for going behind his back and spending lots of money on him, but he starts to smile at her.

“You really tried to join the Order last summer for my family?”

“Well, I mean, I care about all of you Weasleys of course, but really… I think I would do just about anything to keep you safe...”

He gives her a smile.

“I feel the same way.”

It would have been a perfect moment to kiss or be romantic, but at that moment it wasn’t about that at all. It was just two people loving the company of one another, trusting one another, and leaning on each other after a hard day. It wasn’t long after that night that Ron and Hermione ended up finding their hands interwoven more often, their glances warmer and more loving each day.

That summer he had her to the burrow again, and he took her out in their small ATV to give her a tour of the property he hadn’t been able to before. Just the two of them. He enjoyed having her arms wrapped around his middle as he drove her round to the apple orchard he’d spent so much of his youth in.

She was shocked he knew how to drive. “How would you have had the time to learn something so complicated!” They’d all been driving from their Dad’s lap since they were four or so, as they were out in the country- so as long as you could reach the pedals you could drive in the Weasley household.

They picniced together, then laid back on a blacket to cloud watch. Hermione had never cloud watched. This was actually her first time laying on the ground like this, which Ron found bizarre but lovable.

“You’re a real city mouse,” he said with a smirk. She’d never heard of the term before, and he liked being able to teach her something she didn’t know.

“So you’re a country mouse, and I’m a city mouse?” she laughed. He nodded pushing a curl behind her ear, enjoying having her cuddle against him. Despite being summer, there was a bit of a breeze, and he welcomed her presence. “I suppose we really are from different worlds, aren’t we?”

“Maybe… But I like to think we’ll find a way to make it work wherever we are. You all posh and magical, me all yokel and muggleborn… We can find a place for the two of us.”

The thought of carving out some sort of place the two of them could be together made Hermione warm all over, and she couldn’t stop herself from sitting up to stare into his blue eyes.

Nothing was said, nothing could really capture what they were thinking- but somehow it all clicked, and they found themselves sharing a sweet first kiss on a blanket in the countryside.

They would have so many differences to conquer, and plans to make- but the two of them would fiercely be there and make a place for just the two of them somewhere at sometime.

(The Grangers finally join the Order after Voldemort is ‘officially back’, Bill and Fleur met at the third task, and end up getting together still, and much else goes different for the rest of the ‘books’- but that’s a headcanon for another day.)

#muggle Ron Weasley #pureblood Hermione #romione #headcanon #ask #my writing #Anonymous

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chasholidays · 6 years ago

Note

Remember that dream I had where Bellamy was some kind of wardrobe gremlin and Clarke became owner of his wardrobe and took such good care of it he fell in love with her? THAT. I WANT THAT. (I still have the pictures of the conversation saved somewhere if you need a reminder)

Bellamy discovers that Mr. Wallace has died when he leaves his wardrobe at midnight and sets off an alarm.

Obviously, he doesn’t immediately understand that Mr. Wallace has died, just that the wardrobe has moved and his routine will need to change. He slips into the shadows of the nether realm as the alarms continue to blare, studying the room. At first, it feels a great deal like Mr. Wallace’s house, musty and full of odd, old things, but the layout is different, and once his eyes adjust to looking at the human realm through the veil, it snaps into place: an antique store.

As new places to live go, it’s not particularly convenient, especially if they have motion-sensor alarms. Bellamy’s family had a good thing going with the Wallaces, whether the Wallaces knew it or not. Dante had taken pride in his old house full of peculiar items, had loved to brag that it was connected to the spirit world. Bellamy had done his part by rattling doors, moving objects from within the faerie realm, and generally being an odd spiritual presence, and, in return, Mr. Wallace had (whether he knew it or not) kept the Blake’s wardrobe, which really was the gateway to another world.

Bellamy had known the arrangement wouldn’t last forever. Dante might have liked his haunted house, but his son Cage never had, and Bellamy hadn’t expected him to maintain the property as his father would have wanted. So something must have happened to the old man, and his son sold all of his belongings.

It’s not really good for Bellamy, broadly speaking. Once he’s in the human realm, he can leave easily enough, slipping through any number of convenient pockets of shadow, but to get to the human realm, he has to go through the portal in the wardrobe, which apparently now leads to motion-sensor alarms.

So that’s annoying.

The next night, he doesn’t actually leave the wardrobe before shifting to the nether realm, and from there he finds and disconnects the alarm, goes back to the wardrobe, and comes out into the human realm again. It’s more steps than he’d like to take, but he can at least grab one of the antique store’s business cards, figure out where he is–not far from the old Wallace house, at least–and then get out and make it to his favorite 24-hour cafe with free wifi so he can find out what happened to Dante and figure out where to go from here.

The thing is, Bellamy doesn’t have to come to the human realm. He could just hang out in faerie all the time, like most gremlins do. Hauntings are considered old-fashioned these days, and dangerous on top of that, as humanity has gotten less superstitious and more skeptical. Dante brought in so-called ghost hunters on several occasions to prove that something supernatural was going on, but Bellamy didn’t have much trouble fucking with them without any risk to himself. He’d even watched a couple of the episodes that resulted from the visits; they came out pretty well, if he does say so himself. It was fun.

So he’d like to keep coming back, living his odd, inter-realm life, but the antiques store isn’t really the place for that. He can trip their alarms and watch the ensuing chaos and confusion from the nether shadows, but all anyone really seems to think is that some asshole kids are fucking with the antique store. Which, Bellamy has to admit, is a pretty solid hypothesis. Definitely more plausible than wardrobe gremlins. But it’s not very satisfying, as hauntings go.

Leaving to go do other human stuff is possible, but a definitely pain, so he doesn’t go to the human realm very often over the next few weeks, just popping in every other day or so to check that nothing has changed, causing a little chaos from the shadows and checking his email to see if Netflix has added anything interesting he should be streaming.

The whole thing feels like a transitional phase, so when, about four months after Mr. Wallace’s death, Bellamy slides out of the wardrobe and into the nether realm to turn off the alarms and finds there’s nothing to turn off, it feels like the other shoe dropping. His life settling into its new place.

He slips into the human realm to take a look around, examining the new room with interest. It’s smaller than any of the others he’s been in and sparser, probably some kind of storage room. There’s an easel with a half-finished painting on it in one corner, but aside from that it’s all furniture, some of it covered it in white drop cloths, some of it not, all of it old and more than a little beaten up. As much as it pains him to admit it, his own wardrobe fits right in, and he can’t help but worry this is where antiques no one wants to buy go to die.

Then he hears noise from outside the slightly open door, notices light down the hallway.

He checks his phone, functional now that he’s in the human realm, to make sure it really is midnight. Obviously humans do stay up this late, are awake at all hours of the day, from what he can tell, but he’s always been with people who are in bed early.

He slides into the shadows of the wardrobe’s new home, finds it’s not some backroom of the store as he assumed, but instead a living space. An apartment, probably, small and a little disorderly. The noise and light are coming from the living room, where a blonde girl is stretched out on a couch, playing video games in a tank top and pajama pants.

Bellamy has met plenty of humans, even humans around his own age, but the sight of her is still a shock. Between Mr. Wallace and the antique-store owner, he didn’t really think humans under the age of fifty had any interest in his wardrobe. He thought he was done with people who stayed up past midnight, but here she is, this strange woman swearing at her television.

Over the next several days, Bellamy lurks in the nether realm, watching his new human and trying to figure out how best to haunt her. As he suspected, she’s young, a few years younger than he is and a year older than his sister. Her name is Clarke Griffin, and she’s currently in med school. On the side, she’s working on restoring old furniture, although that seems to be something of a new hobby. Every night after she finishes with whatever else she’s doing, she’ll come into the spare room and work on her various antiques.

She starts with a cabinet, and that’s slow going. She’s got some instructions she seems to have printed off the internet and this one seems to be her test piece, the one she’s expecting to fuck up as part of the learning process.

If it was Bellamy, he would have figured out if he was any good at the whole restoration thing before he bought the stuff, but Clarke doesn’t seem to be the kind of person who thinks failure is an option. And she is an artist–the canvas on the easel is hers too–so she probably thinks the skills carry over.

He gives it a full ten days before he tries haunting her, waiting until she’s tired from a long week of work and done with her restoration work for the night. She’s on the couch with a cider when he flickers the lights in the apartment, and she doesn’t even seem to notice.

He does it again, and she makes a tired sound. “Stop.”

Bellamy freezes, but Clarke doesn’t follow up, and he realizes she’s talking to the lights, not to him. Her tone is resigned, exhausted, and guilt spikes in his stomach.

Which is the wrong way to feel; he’s a gremlin, it’s his job to annoy humans.

He flickers the lights again.

“Don’t make me call an electrician.” She drags herself up off the couch, bones cracking as she stands and stretches. “Fine, I’ll go to bed. I get the message.”

All of his attempts to fuck with her go something like that. When he hides her things, she just assumes she misplaced them. When something rattles, she kicks the closest object to her and tells it to be quiet. Her assumption seems to be that she’s so tired and her place is so shitty that there’s nothing that can’t be explained by simple incompetence, either on her own part or that of her appliances.

It’s not rewarding enough to keep doing it, but that doesn’t mean he gives up on the human world entirely. Clarke has a class schedule on the fridge, which means that he knows exactly when she’s gone during the day, and he can actually come out of the wardrobe and participate in the human world during the day without risk. He can actually go to businesses that aren’t bars, stores, or laundromats, visit museums and landmarks, get the real human experiences he’d been locked out of before.

It’s during one of those human experiences that he, to his horror, actually sees Clarke in the wild, without any veil of shadows to protect him. There’s a little coffee shop around the corner from her that makes an amazing chai latte, and he’s in there reading an article about the video game she’s been playing so he can keep up better when she just breezes in, hair in messy wisps and cheeks red from the cold. There’s always been a layer of reality between the two of them, keeping her from seeing him, but also keeping him from seeing her fully.

He knew she was pretty, but she’s so much better in full color.

She orders and goes to wait by the window, scrolling on her own phone. He lost track of time, hadn’t even realized her class had ended and she’d come back. It’s not nearly as hard for him to get back to his world as it is to get into hers, but it still feels strange, being in her apartment during the day. Like he’s trespassing.

More than usual.

When she takes her to-go cup, he drains his own mug, buses his table, and makes it out the door less than a minute after Clarke. His brain doesn’t catch up for another minute after that, when he realizes exactly what he’s doing. There’s no good way to chase a woman into her apartment, and he has no reason to be talking to Clarke in the first place. Talking to her is stupid. He’s lowkey haunting her, he shouldn’t be talking to her too. That’s actually inappropriate.

But when she gets to the apartment, he calls, “Hold the door?” She turns, surprised, and he flashes her a smile. “Sorry, didn’t want to get my keys.”

“No problem. New to the building?”

“Yeah, my grandfather and I just moved into number six,” he says, the lie easy. He knows enough about the building to know that there is an older guy in six who moved in recently and never leaves. Clarke might figure out he was lying, but she doesn’t talk to her neighbors much, and he’s definitely not going to talk to her much.

Definitely.

“Oh, yeah, I saw the trucks.”

“Bellamy,” he says, offering his hand, and she shakes. Her hand is small, warm and smooth, the touch sending a small thrill through him.

“Clarke. Number twelve.”

“I think I followed you out of the coffee shop,” he adds, nodding to her cup. Every logical, rational part of his brain is telling him to just stop talkingand leave, but the part of him that knows how cute she is isn’t having it. “I haven’t been here for long, but I’m already addicted to their chai.”

“I’ve never been a chai person,” she says, absent, as she checks her mail. “Or, I’ve never tried it. I just want caffeine directly pumped into my bloodstream, so coffee it is.”

“Well, I definitely recommend it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She looks him up and down, not checking him out so much as sizing him up. “How starved are you for human contact? On a scale from one to ten.” At his blank look, she says, “Do you just hang out with your grandfather and never see other people?”

It’s only a small lie. Especially compared to all his other lies. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Well, I’ve got alcohol and Netflix, if you ever want to hang out. As long as you don’t mind that I’m studying.”

“Studying for what?”

“I’m in med school.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” he says, honest and a ploy all at the same time.

“What are neighbors for?”

It’s stupid and reckless and absolutely nothing he is ever supposed to be doing, but he can’t resist. He smiles. “Let me grab some beer and I’ll be right up.”

There aren’t actually formal rules for interacting in the human realm, just kind of norms and rules of thumb. The big one is to not ruin things on a global scale, but not getting too close to humans or getting too attached is in there too. Of course, fae do leave their own realm, sometimes forever, but they don’t just sit on couches, watching TV with humans they’re supposed to be haunting. They usually do big, cool things, like Freddie Mercury. He knew how to leave the fae realm in style.

But Clarke’s couch is nice, and she has wifi, plus subscriptions to all the streaming services he’s never signed up for. And, well, she’s taking such good care of the wardrobe. It’s not done yet, not like some of her other pieces, but she’ll work on it off and on, and it’s looking better than he’s ever seen it. It’s the kind of care Bellamy would have taken of it, if he could have. And he used to lurk in the nether realm to watch her work, but it’s so much better when he can work with her, Clarke explaining what she’s doing and letting him help her with varnish and treatments, patient and amused as he learns.

It’s nothing he’s supposed to be doing at all, and he’s given up even pretending he’s haunting her. He turns off the TV when she leaves it on and puts the things she leaves in odd places somewhere she can find them easily. It’s an anti-haunting, and it’s taking up all his time.

“Seriously, we barely see you anymore,” Miller tells him.

The point is fair; the only reason they’re hanging out is that Miller popped into the nether realm and grabbed him. He’s been kind of hard to reach lately.

“It’s hard maintaining a fake life in the human realm,” he says, which is true. He’d thought it wouldn’t be that much more than he was doing before, but then Clarke said that she’d come get him at his grandfather’s apartment when she got home, and he realized he needed to actually keep up with whether or not she was coming to see him. He had to get one of those pay-as-you-go cellphones so she could call him, once he realized he couldn’t just upgrade the one he uses for internet without things he doesn’t have, like personal information and a credit card. It’s a lot of work.

“You don’t say,” says Miller, unsympathetic.

“I need to just tell her I moved,” he says. “Sneak out while she’s asleep like I used to do with Mr. Wallace.”

“That’s one really good option. Or you never should have started.”

“I’m not going to put in a request for time correction just for this. I can fix it myself.”

“Just saying, you knew this was stupid when you started, and you still did it. So I don’t know why you think you’d stop doing it.”

“I’ll get it out of my system.”

“You know how your sister and I never go to the human realm?” Miller asks, giving him a pensive look.

“Yeah.”

“That’s not hard. I’m not wishing I could go all the time. You used to bring Octavia and she didn’t like it. Plenty of fae go their whole lives without going into the human realm, and you can’t go more than a couple of days. You love it.”

“It’s–” he starts, the usual excuses coming to mind easily, but the words don’t come out. It is a family heirloom, the Blakes have always haunted this wardrobe, but he’s gone far beyond haunting. And it’s not as if anyone cares if he haunts the wardrobe. Clarke never even noticed.

She’d notice if he left now, of course. He’d have to tell her something. He’d have to leave her. And he could still do all the things he loved in the human realm, get coffee and watch movies and get into wikipedia-editing wars on folklore articles, but it wouldn’t be the same. Not now that he knows what it’s like doing those things with her.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s really cool.”

“If you can’t leave, you could always stay,” Miller says, with a kind of practiced ease. “You wouldn’t be the first fae who decided to live in the human realm. You just have to decide.”

“You stalked the gateway between the realms just to tell me I should move?” he finally asks, and Miller shrugs.

“You weren’t figuring it out on your own. The way I figure, I might see you more if you were thinking about visiting here, instead of just stressing about your human girlfriend not figuring out you live in her closet.”

It would be really great if that wasn’t an accurate summary of his current issue, minus the girlfriend part, which is the only part he actually wants to be true. The worst of all combinations, really.

“Yeah,” he says. “Good tip.”

There is a process for relocating to the human world, everyone knows. He looked into it before, when he started feeling bad about just stealing everything and realized that he might want something like a credit card. But actually doing it is such a huge step. And it seems so dangerous, when he could just tell Clarke his grandfather is doing well enough he could find his own place. He’s already lying to her, shifting the lie isn’t that big a deal.

It’s not like he can tell her the truth.

He’s back at the coffee shop on a Saturday morning, idly looking for apartments and jobs, trying to figure out what living in the human world would even look like, when his phone buzzes with a message from Clarke: Are you busy?

Me: Not reallyGetting coffee Working on my novel

Clarke: You should put that in scare quotes“Working” on your “novel”I won’t believe it exists until you show me some actual words

Me: I really appreciate your supportWhat did you need?

Clarke: MuscleI’m taking some stuff to Roan and I need help loading the car

Me: SureYou want coffee?

Clarke: You’re the bestThanks

Before he was friends with Clarke, Bellamy would have just slipped into the nether world to get back into the building, but now that he’s interacting like a normal person who’s supposed to come to her door instead of out of her wardrobe, it’s a little more complicated. He figured out a trick where he can slide just his hand in and open the door from the inside, bypassing the need for a key, and then pull his hand back.

It would be easier if he just lived here, honestly.

Clarke gives him a bright smile when she opens the door and he has to remind himself he doesn’t get to kiss her. Instead, he hands over the coffee and says, “So, what am I helping with exactly?”

“Moving the refinished furniture,” she says, and his stomach drops. “My friend Roan has an antiques store, I sent him some pictures and he said he could resell and give me a cut. It’s easier than trying to do it through eBay, I don’t want to handle shipping.”

Bellamy had always known that, in theory, Clarke was going to sell the furniture she was working on, once it was done. And he’s even pretty sure that the wardrobe isn’t done yet. But once it is, it could go anywhere. She’ll take it to the antique store, and it’s going to look good enough that someone will buy it, and then he’ll be somewhere completely new, some strange, totally unknown place.

The thought of it takes up most of his brain as he helps Clarke load her products. As he expected, the wardrobe isn’t one of the pieces she’s selling, but it feels like he can see a countdown on it, ticking down minutes and hours until Clarke finishes and moves it out of her apartment and him out of her life.

“Is it weird I forgot you were selling these?” he asks as he pushes a small cabinet into the trunk of her car.

She smiles. “No, I forget too. I’m actually a little sad, I got attached.”

“Maybe they won’t sell and your friend will give them back.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” she teases. “Thanks for that.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t believe I’m writing a novel.”

“True, I probably deserved it. You want to come to Roan’s? It’s about an hour each way, so feel free to say no.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some stuff to do,” he says. “Serious writing, I’m probably turning my phone off. But I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Her smile dims, but just a little. “You better show me some actual writing after this.”

“I know. Good luck at the antique store.”

“Thanks.”

As final straws go, his wardrobe being (potentially) sold again is maybe a silly one, but it’s easier to make an appeal around that than it is to admit that he’s fallen in love with a human and he doesn’t want to leave her. And, to be fair, even if Clarke doesn’t feel the same way he does–especially if she doesn’t–he still wants to keep track of the wardrobe. It’s his portal, and he needs to keep it.

The process is long less because it’s rare for requests to be turned down–anyone who’s applying is generally thought to be sure about it, permanent relocation isn’t common–and it involves Bellamy having to actually be in his own realm a lot, coming up with a backstory, working out how he’s going to live and get more human money.

He sends Clarke a lot of texts from inside her own wardrobe telling her that he had to leave town because of a family emergency–on his dad’s side, not his mom’s, so his grandfather wouldn’t be involved–and he’s aware, as he crouches in there, how fucking complicated the whole thing is. His life would be so much easier if he could just tell her, if his entire story didn’t sound faker than any of the lies he’s come up with. He can’t just tell her he’s a gremlin who fell in love with her while she was restoring the wardrobe which he uses as a gateway into her world. Even though he could theoretically prove it, it’s not a conversation he knows how to start.

When Clarke opens up the wardrobe door while he’s texting her, it sort of solves that problem.

They just stare at each other for a long moment, too surprised to actually say anything, until he finally manages, “I thought you had class.”

“It’s spring break.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “You break into my apartment when I’m at class? I haven’t even seen you for weeks.”

“It’s, uh–it’s not like that.” He wets his lips, scrambles to his feet. “Fuck, it’s such a long story.”

“You don’t say.”

“You’re not going to believe me.”

“Probably not, but try me anyway.”

Her mouth is a hard line, her jaw set, and he really should have figured out how to do this sooner, or at least not have been hanging out in her fucking wardrobe, no matter how safe it felt. He has no one but himself to blame, absolutely saw this coming, but some part of him is still vaguely resentful. It’s an overall bizarre situation, but he was doing his best. He couldn’t just tell her the truth; it was too fucking weird.

“Your grandfather had never heard of you, by the way,” she says, twisting the knife. “So keep that in mind with whatever you’re telling me.”

He exhales. “There’s a portal to another realm in the wardrobe, I live in that realm, I was trying to haunt you, but you’re so disorganized you didn’t even notice when I was fucking with you. But then, uh–you were fixing the wardrobe and I saw you at the coffee shop and I wanted to talk to you, so I did. And I kept on wanting to talk to you. Fuck, Clarke, you’re–I know how unbelievable all this sounds, but I swear it’s true.”

Her face gives nothing away as she thinks it over, and Bellamy makes himself keep his mouth shut. If she’s mad, he can always leave, go home, give up on the whole moving to the human realm idea. His wardrobe will go somewhere else, and he’ll probably be smart enough to not fall in love with its next owner.

“If that’s a lie, it’s the stupidest lie I’ve ever heard,” she finally says.

“Yeah, my actual lies were a lot smarter. I didn’t think you’d ever talk to the guy in six.”

“I was worried,” she snaps. “Why were you sitting on the wardrobe floor?”

He holds up his phone. “Cell reception. I wanted to text you. I don’t have a lot of time, but I wanted to check in.”

She takes another minute to process, and then says, “Okay, so–how does this work? What are you? A ghost?”

“No, uh–gremlin.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Gremlin?”

“Yeah. We guard gateways to the human realm. This one’s been in my family for generations. It’s been at the Wallace house since before the Civil War, but the owner of the house died and his son sold–at least the wardrobe, I don’t know what else.”

“And you just come into this world to hang out.”

“We don’t have the internet,” he says. “The fae realm is fine, but kind of boring.”

“So you’ve just been–sneaking out of my apartment, breaking into the building, coming back up here, and knocking on my door so you can hang out with me? How do you get back in to leave?”

“There’s another realm, the nether realm?” She looks dubious, and he soldiers on. “It’s kind of like–the shadow world. I can slip into that and then you can’t see me. But I can only get out of it in the wardrobe, so it’s still kind of a pain. I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

“Can you go into the nether world?” she asks, sounding interested. “And do something?”

It’s a logical question, but it still makes his palms sweat. He’d never really let himself think about telling her, let alone her believing him, his having to live with her knowing the truth. If she does know what he is, he doesn’t know what comes next.

Apparently, he’s going to find out.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Whatever you were doing to haunt me.”

He wets his lips, puts his phone in his pocket, and then he finds a shadow and slides into it. He can see Clarke’s eyes widen as he disappears, and she leans into the wardrobe, trying to find him.

As tricks go, it’s a pretty good one.

He can’t actually move things directly in the human realm, but anything he’s carrying will be pulled into the nether realm with him, so he takes one of her paintbrushes and drops it, making her jump and whirl as it clatters to the ground. He does it again, with her watching this time, and she swallows hard.

“But you can only come back out through the wardrobe,” she says, and then laughs. “I guess you can’t answer me.”

He did test it out, when he was trying to haunt Mr. Wallace, but humans can’t hear him here. The veil is too thick.

“Can you touch me?”

That one he’s never tried, so he crosses the room, reaches out for her hand, his curiosity getting ahead of his common sense. Humans can enter the fae realm, if they’re shown the door, so there shouldn’t be any reason that she can’t come into the nether realm with him too.

Instead, when his hand curls around hers, he feels himself sliding through the shadows and back to her, like she’s her own gateway all by herself.

“Apparently, yeah,” he says, and she laughs, breathless and surprised, tugs his hand until he steps in, and she kisses him.

He melts into the kiss, relief making him boneless, and mouth curls into a smile.

“You believe me?”

“I have more questions. But I really wanted to do that.”

“Me too.” He wets his lips, still grinning. “So, uh, I was going to move to this realm and ask you to sell me the wardrobe. And then ask you out, once I had my own place and a job and stuff.”

“You can buy a wardrobe without a job, but not ask me out?”

“Buying the wardrobe was less scary.”

“I wasn’t going to sell it anyway,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It’s the one we did together.”

Once the wardrobe is done, they move it into the bedroom (once Bellamy has assured Clarke that it’s inaccessible from the fae realm unless he opens it), across from their bed, next to the mirror, this perfectly sized space that looks like it was specially made.

It wasn’t, of course, just like the left side of Clarke’s bed wasn’t made for Bellamy, no matter how well he fits there.

Sometimes, things just work out.

#howdareyouhughdancy

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laromurl · 6 years ago

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One Piece Fanfiction

Zoro Roronoa x Nila Faurgard (OC)

A/N: this is part two! I hope you enjoy 😊

The young mermaid stared at Nila's missing arm curiously. She had never seen someone with a missing limb and specially a young woman. Nila noticed it but didn't mind. She would have to get used to it.

The stopped at Saboady thanks to Hachi and Ceimi's recommendation. Nila hadn't ever been there but she's heard stories from the members of her father's crew that it was a beautiful and fun place. It was filled with bubbles that floated up but popped when they went to far up. Luffy touched one and when he saw that it wasn't popping, he stuck his head inside. Now he was even more excited to leave the ship.

They docked. Nila was excited to just stay in the ship and sleep. She needed so much rest before going back to her fathers because of course she would go back. And she had spent most of the nught talking to Luffy about Ace. How fortunate that she had been saved by Ace's brother. Although she didn't know how to feel about Zoro abandoning his Pirate Hunter life to become a Pirate.

"Ah, well, I'll see you guys later." Zoro was the first to get down, jumping from the ledge even with the stairs right beside him.

"Wait! You can't go by yourself!" Nami said almost jumpimg out of the ledge. "You're going to get lost and we don't want to look for you for days again ."

"Ehh." Zoro turned back to the girls. He waved her aside ans began to walk again. "I'll be fine. I don't get lost. These trees have numbers." He pointed at the 41 etched on the closest tree.

Nami growled at him and crossed her arms. "I don't want to risk it. Take Nila with you."

"Wait.."Nila was ready to argue but thw look in Nami's face stopped her.

Both Zoro and Nila sighed defeated, knowing better than to argue with Nami. "Okay, Nila hurry."

Nila shook her head at that preposterous idea and tried to cross her arms. It escaped her that she only had one arm and she became embarrassed. She gave in after that and jumped down from the boat, following him while remembering the number on the tree. Hachi had informed them that Saboady was split up into 'groves' and the number of the grove was usually written in the tree.

They walked back and forth for a while in silence. They have crossed the same boulder and weirdly shaped tree five times. Nila suspected he was lost but didn't say anything. It wasn't her business to know where they are. She just wanted to enjoy her little escape. And she was only suppose to show him the way back to the ship.

After a few more hours of the same shtick but in a different part of the island, she had had enough. "Ay, let me lead. Okay. You're terrible at this."

Zoro humphed. "That's why I brought you a long. You know this stuff." He hiccuped. Not from being slightly drunk but from being hungry. He hadn't eaten since this morning on the ship but somehow he had gotten his hands on some sake.

She groaned and rolled her eyes before walking towards the groves Hachi said had shopping centers. Along the way she relaxed a bit and her annoyance with him left. At the end of the day, her hatred for him was misplaced. He owed her nothing let alone to save her. She just needed to enjoy these few weeks with them. They had saved her and kept her along.

Besides, she was okay for now. She was away from her father and he thought she was dead probably.

He left her to die! She gritted her teeth and left her shoulder in frustration. Her own father left her to die. How could he be so cruel? She thought that even after everything he put her and Milo through, even after turning Milo in as punishment, he would still love his kids. But he used her as bait, left her for dead and she lost an arm.

Zoro noticed her grumbling to herself and knew what it was about. She was starting to see her father's true nature or atleast realizing that he was a piece of shit. He felt responsible for this.

He placed a hand on her head. "We're here." He said pointing to the crowd walking to and forth from little shops. They had their shopping bags in the bubbles that float all over the island. They were pretty resistant.

She dug through her bag around her hip and counted the money she had. It was just enough for a couple of meals. Zoro looked at her and sighed taking another gulp of his sake. She was such a pettiful woman. "I'll pay. Let's go eat something."

She would have accepted his offer if she didn't remember that he had no money. Nami said so before they found Hachi and Ceimi. She smacked his hand from her head. "You don't have any money. I'll pay."

He became sheepish, remembering that that was true and followed behind her. They got closer before the crowd stopped and seemed to face the center of the plaza. She walked cautiously feeling the atmosphere change. The chattering stopped and she could faintly hear whispers. Something was happening. "Z-" She turned to warn him but he was drinking and passed her oblivious to everything.

She ran after him. "Zoro, slow down. Something is happening." She whispered.

"Eh?" He turned to her. "Did you say something? There should be a restuarant close by."

He weaved between the crowd and she followed falling into the edge of a big opening. There was a guy in some sort of wierd suit and a bubble around his head, holding a leashed human. The man was older, with blood all over his head and tears. She was paralyzed for a second. She had heard about them but she had never actually seen one of those people. That guy was bad news.

"Zo-" she stepped forwards to stop him but a hand clasped over her mouth and She was pulled back with an arm in her stomach.

Zoro walked on, the onlookers gasping. This wasn't looking good. Was Zoro this oblivious or was he so confident? Either way she didn't want to be caught up with this. There was already navy around. It was best to stop it as soon as possible. She got dragged back where she was out of earshot from Zoro.

She pulled back the hand and turned around. She didn't know who she was expecting, but it wasn't Trafalgar Law.

"Trafalgar?" She was surprised to see him. "What are you doing here?"

She heard a gunshot and immediately she ran back to Zoro. He was on the ground with a young girl of top of him crying and calling him brother. He seemed to still be breathing.

The Celestial Dragon moved on and after a few minutes, Nila ran to Zoro. Her breath was hitched in her throat. He was alive but how much alive? "Zoro are you okay?" She helped him up after the pink haired girl got off him. "Who was that?" He asked.

"A Celestial Dragon." Nila murmured breathinf out a small prayer of gratitude. He was oblivious!

"You don't want to get on their bad side! The navy will be here in seconds if you hurt him." The pink haired, woman now, scorned him. She had a piece of meat on her lip and short overalls.

Nila then turned back to ask Law what he was doing there but he had dissapeared. She became annoyed quickly. That man had no manners at all. Last time they had seen eachother, he halped her escape from her father. His submarine was perfect for her to hide for a couple of days. But...she ended up going back to her father. She always does.

Pleasantries were exchanged with the Jewel Bonny girl or whatever her name was. Nila quiet frankly didn't care. She was busy trying not to be noticed by a pair of Navy men she saw pass by. She expressed her gratitude to the girl for saving Zoro and grabbed his shirt, ushering him out of the center. They would have to eat somewhere else.

Away from the center, she begrudgingly berated Zoro for being so oblivious. "I swear you idiots just keep getting in more trouble. I've heard about you guys, you know." She turned to him, poking his chest with a stern finger. "I know about Alabasta and the islands in the sky. The World Government have been keeoong an close eye on you guys and now everything in on the paper! Do you really think we need more bad juju from you killing a Celestial Dragon?"

Zoro lowered his head in irritation. He was hungry and sober again. "Is that what he was? Why is he do important? He looked like a scumbag to me."

Nila stiffened. How were there poeole this incredibly stupid? "You stupid! The Celestial Dragons are descendents of the twelve families that started the World Govrrnment. They are Gods in this world."

He looked at her for a few seconds before shrugging and placing his hands in his pockets. "So? I don't believe in Gods."

This took her off guard and she tensed up from frustration and annoyance. This man was definitely an idiot but then again, this crew had been the only one to make impossible things happen...or so she's heard. She was amused first before breaking out into laughter.

Zoro stared longer than he should have. It was strange but he had never seen her laugh so hard that she was holding her stomach. The permanent creased eyebrows that always suspected everything were suddenly gone and the freckles on her cheeks popped out more making her look like Milo alot more intensely. He had forgotten how much Milo used to talk about his sister. They looked exactly the same, down to the brown waves with sprinkled white patches of hair all over.

He didn't know when it happened but he found himself smiling at her happiness and soon he began to talk to her about everything and anything to make her laugh.

...

Kuma looked at Nila. She was furiously protecting Zoro like a mother bear would her cub, using her body as a shield as she was too tired and worn down from producing to many golems. She was tried, done, defeated but she still had her life to give for Zoro's.

Sanji was trying to protect her and Zoro too but he was just as badly injured if not more. Zoro could barely move. He hadn't even been able to land a blow on Kuma before keeling over from the injuries he sustained the first time Zoro encountered him in Thriller Park. He was in terrible shape but he still kept trying to fight. He insisted Sanji and Nila leave for cover but they weren't listening and it was making Luffy crazy with frustration that he had no way of protecting his friends from the Pacifistas and the Admiral.

She didn't even stop to think why she was trying to save him in the first place. Maybe she thought that deserved to live more than she did. Maybe she thought this would be her only good deed. Maybe she just wanted to protect him.

It wasn't a problem for Kuma either way. He swiped his paw across her body and she found herself flying upwards at an incredible speed.

#anime #one piece #one piece fanfiction #pirate hunter zoro #zoro #roronoa zoro #straw hat pirates #straw hat luffy

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phantombones · 7 years ago

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JANE LONGBOTTOM really is the spitting image of SEYCHELLE GABRIEL, right? For someone only TWENTY-TWO ( AQUARIUS/PISCES CUSP ) years old, JANEY has been forced to endure so much. Yeah, that HALFBLOOD has been scraping by at the sanctuary for EIGHT MONTHS now, working as a HEALER in the DIVISION OF HEALING. SHE identifies as CIS-FEMALE and is known to be PERSNICKETY and SELFLESS but also HARDWORKING and ALTRUISTIC. Best of luck surviving through this.

CHARACTER PARALLELS: Cosette ( Les Misérables ), Beth Greene ( TWD ), Lexie Grey ( Grey’s Anatomy ), Emma Woodhouse ( Emma ), Steve Rogers ( MCU ), Kara Danvers ( DC ), Jemma Simmons ( Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. ), Primrose Everdeen ( THG the Books )

PINTREST BOARD: [ x ]

- Jane was given so much, it almost a surprise that she didn’t up greedy & selfish. Whether it was the love her siblings & parents gave her, whether it was the individual little kindnesses in the world that seemed like man made moments of magic, For the first few years of her life, Jane was with a mother who didn’t know how to take care of her, though she desperately tried to. The woman was still dealing with emotional scars from the previous Wizarding War and got a job at The Leaky Cauldron -- where Hannah was now the owner. Hannah saw the woman have a hard time with her child, and let her bring the young girl to the Leaky so she could keep an eye on her. Jane was calm, collected and observant even as a child and extremely kind, always offering smiles and compliments to patrons. Always trying to help anyone who worked there, having the best intentions even if she sometimes accidentally got in the way. The Longbottoms had been looking to adopt another child for a while, so when the young mother confided in Hannah that she could no longer her child and didn’t know what to do -- The Longbottoms thought it was the perfect opportunity then, to try to adopt Jane and they ended up succeeding.

- [ OCD MENTION ] She was always so grateful and never bitter towards her biological mother, Hannah and Neville never were either, happy that they had Jane in their life and she grew up in a loving household nurturing the heart full of love and kindness that she’d been born with. Her older brother Rhys was someone she was so fascinated with who was extremely protective of her and she loved her sister Violet’s personality, there was passion, love, support as well as someone who understood her. It was then she met her godbrother Albus as well, who was also adopted into one of the most famous families in the Wizarding World and the two became inseparable. When all her family was first shipped off to Hogwarts without her, Jane cried and missed them dearly. Yes, she had Albus, but he still had his sister and extensive family and while she felt close to the Wotters -- it wasn’t the same without her siblings. There was a guilt that she felt for not being more grateful. Jane started having obsessive thoughts and compulsions in an attempt to cope with the fears associated with her siblings both being away. Diagnosed with OCD at such a young age was an illuminating thing for Jane, her treatment process was something that further bonded her with Hannah. After months of treatments, exposure therapy, the support of her family & friends, and inner strength, Jane finally felt better and realizing all she wanted to do was give, and give that same healing power & love back to other people. It was clear in her mind then, she wanted to be Healer. It was her calling. [ END OF OCD MENTION ]

- Though Jane was incredibly well liked, she was also sometimes made fun of for naive brand of thinking, and though she had a pure innocence, she was not blind or unexperienced to hurt, mental suffering, and loss. She was underestimated by some as some saw her as a far too idealistic Hufflepuff, a naive girl, a perfect student and so altruistic & sweet it made your teeth rot. It was all genuine, kindness was her virtue and being kind to others even when they were unkind to her was something she frequently practiced. People thought her being a Healer wouldn’t work, they thought her meek, but Jane was even more hungry to prove herself, finding any way to advance & learn as quickly as she could to get to her goal as best & quickly as she could. Jane simply couldn’t wait. The hardwork paid off, and though Jane didn’t graduate early from Hogwarts, she had taken classes & done so many internships as well as pre-Healing programs over summers & during school ( helping in the infirmary with Miss Pomfrey kept her sane ) that she started her training immediately after school a year ahead. Her life was dedicated to that then, and the young girl many thought would probably faint at the sign of blood with how pristine she could act was always hands first in a body cavity doing what she had to. The first to respond to a scene that required extra care and thought. The first to get her scrubs beyond dirty and stained with blood if needed. Jane took authority, she was confident in a way that she didn’t display anywhere else.

- When the Inferi outbreak started, Jane had just finally graduated from the program and become a full fledged Healer with a research lab and a grant she’d gotten from the Ministry. She’d been focused on finding a way to cure Lycanthropy when people started coming in with weird symptoms, and bodies that didn’t look quite human started coming in ripped apart, missing organs. Jane kept calm, but deep in her gut she knew something was wrong and started preparing for the worse -- just as a precaution. It paid off, because when it was told that they Jane was one of the first people at Hogwarts helping set up the Division of Healing in Hogwarts, and has been there for 8 months since. Jane still is truly one of the nicest, kindest, selfless people you’ll ever meet that it could kill her. Easily willing to help a person no matter what side they’re on, it’s hard for her to tolerate suffering in any capacity -- especially when doled out by brainwashed bigoted children. Jane is nonstop in working, she’s finally gotten to where she wants to start and she’ll be damned to let the world fall apart if she can help it. She wants to do anything she can to help the world and to help heal the people around her, and will do everything in her power to try.

RANDOM FACTS:

excellent chess player and hot chocolate maker

will try to set you up!!! even in this economy!! is so in love with people’s love life and would fuck around with the media bc she found them annoying but funny and always making assumptions so she just went with it and joked around fueling and feeding FAKE AF rumors

Her sexuality and her OCD were two things she had trouble thinking about and dealing with. Firstly, Jane had never really felt the same sexual attraction to people that everyone else had when she was in school. She could never imagine casually sleeping with someone and when someone mentioned a need for sex, Jane didn’t really understand it. She figured it’d come later, but it never did and for a while Jane felt broken by it, she felt scared that there was something deeply wrong with her. Albus was who she opened up to first, and he helped educate and reassure her that there was nothing wrong with her -- though she felt comforted it’s not something she’s thought about further. Especially during the zombie apocalypse. Her OCD now isn’t as compulsion driven now as it is obsessive thought centered. Survival mode is hard and definitely taking it’s toll on Jane, something she needs to take care of but feels she can’t. Other people are suffering more, they need her brain and they need her hands, she cannot think about things that will unravel her. So Jane pushes it down, as her anxiety grows and the number of hours she sleeps grows less and less.

but really if she sees two people who look cute and are acting cute together she’ll ship it

she really has no artistic talent??? she’s not the most knowledgeable on it either besides art from books like plays, but painting all that jazz?? how do u do that??

really pure, cinnamon roll, follows da rulez and probs tries to mother you like SHE WILL bc she cares so damn much

always always leads with her heart but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a sharp mind. she just prefers to lead with her heart and FEELS so much

will always be gentle and kind no matter what, it’s wild

loves herbology and likes potions a lot but jane really got good at it through hardwork, ambition to be a healer and curiousity.

imma stop now bc THATS A LOT! but thank you for reading and if you’d like to plot just like this!! honestly ur the real mvp if u read this

#inferi intro #intro ❀ ( jane longbottom. )

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becomingherocomic · 4 years ago

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Becoming Hero

Despite bullets and hunger, Isabel saves orphans in Liberia. #superheroalert #dogood

Isabel grew up in Liberia around the time of the Civil War. Four of her siblings were killed during the war, one by an accident she never specifies, one by raging diarrhea–one of the leading causes of death in the majority world; there was a sister whose death I cannot remember, and another, most horribly, she describes as being butchered like an animal, chopped into pieces. The way she looks away when describing this tells me she saw this happen right in front of her.

I first met Isabel when I was working late in a military hospital here in the US. She was working as a janitor, and I thought I would give her some cookies. I wanted to reach out to her, and show her some kindness. How absolutely silly–there is a verse in Hebrews that says that the lesser is blessed by the greater. We didn’t have much time to talk that night, but over the following evenings the scattered conversation she shared with a lonely family medicine resident became my comfort, my blessing, from this woman so much greater than I. The janitors at CRDAMC in Fort Hood in the US are treated with no mercy. If they miss a day of work by accident, they can be instantly fired. The other two I came to know through Isabel both had health problems not effectively treated by their insurance; one young Liberian found herself up against a several hundred dollar charge for the flu that she could not pay, so she never got treatment for her back problems. Another woman was not given appropriately early evaluation for a mass in her spine, likely because it was too difficult to explain things through her thick language challenges; even though the correct standard of care is to ask for a translator, she was never once offered one in her visits to her military PCM. Isabel never complained. And one day–perhaps over lunch, perhaps at the hospital–she told me about her orphanage.

Isabel and her husband used to go to the refugees camps to share what little food they had with the refugees. One day, very early in this process, Isabel noticed a little child running around who seemed lost. She asked for his parents, and the people said the child just didn’t have any. Isabel became concerned about the children with no parents, and as her eyes opened to more and more of them she determined in her heart to give them a place to live, and a family of some kind. When she mentioned the idea to people in her church circles, they laughed. It was a running joke, she told me: “you have nothing, and here you want to take all these children?” I think, if you really think about it, you can’t blame them for thinking she was irresponsible. I’ve heard Christians in Puerto Rico say it was irresponsible for someone to want to donate a kidney to a stranger (“what if you need it for your family”), and I’ve heard Christians in the mainland US say it’s optional, not a duty, to take care of the poor. “You can do that if you want to,” but your money belongs to you first, they’ve said. There’s a prevailing desire for safety, a fear of taking risks. So we can’t quite judge the Liberian churches who, having nothing, laughed at this crazy woman who wanted to take in 75 lost children. Think about the logistics of feeding 75 children. Think about how you could possibly find a place for them all to stay. In your house? There isn’t room. How on earth can you feed all of them? But Isabel is a woman of solutions instead of problems, and faith instead of fear. She began to go from church to church anyway, and gradually she did gather enough money to buy a small house. Finding the children was easy–she had 75 almost immediately. But now, she had nothing to feed them. She went to the Peace Corps, and they gave her 200 bags of milk. But with nothing else to eat–no solids–she feared the children would simply develop diarrhea and die anyway. An inspiration occurred to her–perhaps inspired by the widow in Scripture, who at Elijah’s behest sold olive oil to save her family. Isabel took 100 bags of the milk, and began to sell them. And discovered they sold like gold. People would pay insane amounts for each bag. This wasn’t just enough to pay for solid food for the children, but for mattresses and clothes! And that is how Isabel started her orphanage. In those days, during the war, the orphanage she managed to buy was about two hours from her house–and she would walk those two hours daily, hiding from gunfire. After the war, she would travel throughout Liberia to reunite the children with their parents. She managed to find the parents of over half of the children; the rest, by now, are in high school or older. One day, she went into one village, and saw a grandmother, and some men with shovels, around a hole in the ground. “What happened here?” she asked. The grandmother pointed to a tiny, wrapped up infant. The baby looked like a skeleton, with her lips fused together from hunger. “She died last night,” the grandmother said. Isabel had a sense–“no, this child isn’t dead,” she said definitively. “Yes, she died last night! She stopped moving,” the buriers insisted. “No, no,” Isabel took the tiny skeleton, and dribbled water into her mouth. The baby’s lips moved. “This baby isn’t dead; she is just hungry. Let me take this child.” “If she’s not dead now, she’s just going to die on the road, and then you’ll throw her away. No, please, let us bury her right,” they insisted. But Isabel won out in the end, promising to bury the child if it died. The baby spent three months in the hospital. But today, she is 22 years old. Isabel has a number of other stories like this. In the end, she established something that looked like it would last. For a year they had help from a peace corps worker, and at one point some US Marines from the embassy built solar panels for Isabel’s electricity. But when the Kargbos lost their primary US donor to support the orphanage, Isabel had to seriously evaluate their financial situation. While many of her biological children had moved to the US for a better life, she still had her son Moses back in Liberia, and her husband, to tend the orphanage. She thought she could go to the US, the land of plenty, and earn enough money to send back to the orphanage so that it would flourish. And so after two decades in Liberia establishing the orphanage, she spent nine years trying to raise money for it in the US. She found, however, that the expenses and high cost of living in the US ate away the paltry funds she could gather with her education, and as the orphanage began to suffer without her presence, she decided to return to Liberia permanently. It was around this time that I met her. I remember when I was working one Thanksgiving–I had no family in Texas anyway–and Isabel had invited me to come to her Thanksgiving whenever I managed to get away. I was doing rounds on the newborn babies, enjoying the quiet of a fairly empty hospital with only essential staff, free from the annoying interference of the more controlling nurses and administrators (you know, the kind of person who knows better than you about your patient care even though they’ve never been to medical school, because they improve the numbers geared to make the hospital money; the person who controls everyone around them, and still somehow manages to get holidays off because “they deserve it”). Suddenly, whispers and warnings permeated through the hallways: the hospital commander was coming in. “What is the hospital commander coming in for?” I admit I kind of smirked. People hate it when I smirk. But the smirk was deserved. He was coming to get his picture taken while he gave out turkeys to the patients stuck in the hospital over Thanksgiving. He had a glorious entourage, all decked out in their blue Army dress uniforms, their chests studded with colorful war-candy. The vast majority of the awards in the modern Army have nothing to do with combat, or bravery–you can get one for just going on a deployment, or writing a good paper, and there’s even one for just existing in the Army during 9/11. You wouldn’t know that, with the chests stuck out, and the strutting: it’s not uncommon for a commander, at military balls, to insist that lower Captains take pictures with him so you can see by contrast how very many medals he has on his dress blues compared to everyone else. I met the commander’s eyes for a moment as he passed by with his photographer; we all had to stop working on medicine to praise his presence. Decorum, and so forth. “When you give to the poor, do not do as the hypocrites do, and bring your trumpeter to announce your good work in the city square,” my Messiah once said; the commanders of his time didn’t have photographers. But his words are so much harder than we think, aren’t they? All of our giving programs online include social media buttons, so we can share how good we are with others. We call it “spreading awareness,” and I admit to feeling like if I tell everyone else I’m doing good, they’ll want to do good, too. And of course, we have to have some way to share good programs. But there must be a difference between a photograph of a well-dressed man of power handing out turkeys, and a practical call to action begging you to join the work. As the commander continued down the hall, I could only think about Isabel, working in the lowest position in the hospital, compared to this man with all his power. “The first shall be last,” the Messiah once said. In heaven, she will be the one studded with awards, and hers will not be pompous, but glorious. Thanksgiving with Isabel’s family was shy, but good. Those were the good days, even though I didn’t know it, and I miss going to lunch with her once a week, and learning about potato greens, and spicy chicken; the memory brings a soft, full, well-fed feeling. I was working often 80 hours a week in that hospital, a brand new physician, completely overwhelmed by a creeping illness suddenly exacerbated by an unrealistic work schedule. I regret spending so much time worrying about my position in the hospital, and I regret almost all of the time socializing with other military medical professionals, desperate to be liked but too rebellious and different to ever earn any place in those safe, successful hearts. I wish I had spent even more time with Isabel before she left; I am so grateful for the opportunities I did take. Ultimately, I left that residency as it ate away my health and my mind, burdened by my significant moral opposition to the residency’s prevailing philosophy of loyalty to the organization over the patient. None of the female residents in my year or above me who had pretended to care about me really kept contact. They looked down on me for my weakness and had little compassion for my daily chronic pain and worsening chemical depression. My best “friend” at that time seriously used and then deserted me in my time of need, after a relationship so deeply emotionally manipulative and mind-altering that my depression spiraled and I had to be hospitalized. Isabel never judged me, even when I was kind of stupid; she saw my pain with such deep compassion even though I had so much more than she did from a material perspective. I know of people who are so poor they feel uncomfortable, angry, or cruelly unsympathetic towards people who have more than they, and I understand their justification; but Isabel was so rich in spirit that she didn’t see it that way. There’s an old Hebrew saying, “never muzzle an ox as he treads out the grain,” and a later one to explain that the teacher deserves his due; as Isabel returned to Liberia to rescue the orphanage that could no longer survive without her presence, it would be truly evil of me, with the life I have, not to support her work. To stand by while she lives often without running water or electricity, in extreme heat, eating only rice every day with the occasional vegetables, and not give? I would be as fake as that man of power, and a bad friend to boot.

However, I am finding I cannot, alone, provide for the enormous needs of the orphanage. The government recently dropped off twelve more children; there are five mattresses that need purchasing, a child with severe liver disease who needs $450 worth of medicine, and three teenagers who have graduated high school but cannot afford the mere $1200 ($300 per semester) it would take to pay for their technical school or college. One of the young men wants to become a PA, to be provide medical care of the children at the orphanage, but had to stop school after two semesters because there just isn’t any more money for his schooling. It’s frustrating because most of these costs are so cheap for most people in the US and Europe–six semesters of trade school at $1200 is absolutely unheard of. The younger children need just $50 per month to receive full clothing, education, and food support; a significant amount of their diet comes from Child Aid International, but consists primarily of rice and occasional vegetables, with a slight deficiency in variety and protein.

If you would like to help, you can sponsor or half-sponsor a child for $50 or $25 a month with His Hands Support Ministries. I personally verified sponsorship records and end finances received by Isabel from this volunteer organization, and 100 percent of the funds they receive go to Isabel–not the case with large, admin-heavy organizations like Compassion International. For some people, this sponsorship is literally just the cost of one fancy date a month; for others, it’s the price of a cup of coffee a day. And it makes a huge difference.

Alternatively, if you would like to help fund someone’s college or trade school, get in touch with me at jen at becominghero.ninja, and I will coordinate with His Hands Support Ministries to find a way to make your special donation 501(c)3 tax exempt.

And finally, please share and tell as many people about Isabel’s work as possible!

Thank-you, as always, for your superhero work.

Want more ways to make a difference? Get superheroalerts sent to you weekly with a free fiction digest. Or check out today’s Random Act of Kindness from my special Random Act of Kindness Generator!

http://becominghero.ninja/despite-bullets-and-hunger-isabel-saves-orphans-in-liberia-superheroalert-dogood/

#Superhero Alerts (Become a hero!)

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bevelle · 7 years ago

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Where the Sun Shines: Part 1

(Part 1 of "Where the Sun Shines" from the seventh novel, The Game of Angels and Demons, is here! Within the novel, this story is divided into 3 numbered parts. This is part 1, which just so happened to end at the 10 page mark. Minimal footnotes included. Footnotes don't function correctly on mobile, so I suggest viewing this in an actual browser. Please enjoy!)

Vatican City. An independent country located on the east bank1 of the Italian Tiber River. It is the smallest country in the world, and to the 1.1 billion Catholics scattered across the world, it serves as a strong international community.

There is a department there called The Seat of the Disciples.

Within the organizations existing at the heart of the Vatican, The Nine Sacred Departments, the recognition and acknowledgment of beatification2, canonization, and existence of holy relics occur in the Canonization Department; while there is another department in which “miracle reports” are collected from around the world and then undergo strict investigations. They are then presented to a committee of eighteen cardinals who judge whether or not they should be recognized as true miracles. Among those working there are scientists, doctors, historians, and specialists in many other fields.

Roberto Nicolas was employed by the Seat of the Disciples as a cryptanalysis and folkloristics expert two years ago, and was still a novice miracle investigator.

A Monday in April, when bright rays of light poured down. It was a holiday for the Seat of the Disciples, as well. That day, out of all of the days in the year, was especially important to Roberto. In the morning, after finishing his prayers at the nearest place of worship, Roberto headed to St. Bernardo, the boarding school near his home.

St. Bernardo was Roberto’s alma mater, and was where he lived before attending the University of Rome. It was also a place overflowing with memories.

Upon entering the school grounds, he could hear the clear singing voices of the choir from a section of the building. He could see students in their navy blue uniforms and red ties running around the campus and playing soccer.

Roberto made his way to a certain part of the school.

There, in that old, beautiful library, massive mahogany bookcases filled the room, their shelves packed with an extensive collection of everything from adventure novels to philosophy books. The smells of ink and paper typical of old books wafted throughout the room. Outside a large, wide window was an elm tree, and the sunlight filtering through its leaves shone down on the reception desk brilliantly.

In the past, a single boy stood there. A beautiful library committee member with straight black hair. He was an upperclassman three years older than Roberto named Josef Lycolas Bartridge.

Roberto gently took a single book from the shelves. He then left the library and headed for the deserted, quiet place behind the building. It was in the grove of trees between the shed that housed the tools they used for annual events and the hutches they used for raising rabbits and chickens. Roberto often spent time there.

Before he entered St. Bernardo, he was in an abbey-operated juvenile facility. Before that, he lived with a man he called his "uncle" and his wife after they took Roberto from a police hospital.

Other than his name, Roberto had no memories of his childhood.

He listened to the whispers of the adults around him, and vaguely understood that he had seen something terrible, became ill, and lost his memory. However, talking about that was taboo, so Roberto didn’t even consider wanting to ask about it further.

He remembered doing things like sandplay therapy3 every day at the police hospital. Then, when his “uncle” could no longer support him, he was sent to a juvenile facility. Within the facility, which had been set up as an elementary school with strict rules, Roberto was treated as a “child with issues.”

The biggest reason for this was because he couldn’t speak to anyone.

Roberto truly couldn’t talk to anyone. Even if he tried to speak to someone, the words wouldn’t come out.

People talked to each other normally. That was odd to Roberto.

He lived as if he were wrapped up in a special membrane that prevented him from forming any kind of connection with the outside world. Whenever someone spoke to Roberto, the words would pass through that membrane as what he could only perceive as meaningless, grating noise. Because of this, Roberto was extremely shy, and without being able to speak, he was a problem child who could not fit into his surroundings.

The Sisters and Fathers taking care of the children at the institution saw Roberto as a nuisance, and to Roberto, they were also unreasonably bothersome. They desperately tried to force him to read Christ’s teachings aloud, and in accordance with their strict rules, when he was unable to, the rod was brought down on him. Each time, Roberto would react by closing his heart off even further.

However, to his good fortune, there was someone there who understood him. That person was none other than the head of the institution, an old pastor named Father Lombardo.

One day, Roberto was taken by the head priest—who was also in charge of his elementary education—to Father Lombardo’s room.

Father Lombardo’s room was very simple, with a large decorative cross and a landscape painting being all that Roberto could remember.

The pastor was wearing black glasses—he was blind. However, Roberto felt that he could see much more than what those with sight could see.

“Roberto, greet Father Lombardo,” the priest told Roberto in a strict voice. Roberto was startled, but of course, he couldn’t get any words to come out.

“Roberto, knock it off. You should be able to talk just fine. We can’t always give you special treatment. I told you that you would have to do this today.”

Roberto hung his head. The priest made an annoyed face, grabbed the back of Roberto’s head, and forcibly made him bow.

“He’s always like this. He’s truly a child with issues,” the priest said.

Father Lombardo, with his unseeing eyes, stared at Roberto. Roberto honestly felt as he if he were being looked at.

“Hm. So, in these past two years, this boy hasn’t spoken to anyone?”

“No, not at all. He shows no response to anything we tell him, and we’ve never seen him play with any of the other children, either.”

“However, that doesn’t mean he has a mental disability4. From what I’ve heard, according to the chairman, his test results are above average…”

“That’s true. However, he can’t live a normal life as a student like this. Once he’s finished elementary, I believe that he should be sent to the abbey.”

“Hm…”

There was a long silence.

Roberto was terrified under Father Lombardo’s incessant gaze, as if he were completely exposed.

“No… In the past, those at this institution with exceptional grades were given assistance in attending St. Bernardo Boarding School. We can’t exclude him from that simply because he can’t speak. If we do, it will seem like the church is discriminating against children with such problems. And… as far as I can tell, this boy, Roberto, is completely fine. I’m authorizing it: send this boy to St. Bernardo. If anything happens, I will take responsibility.”

“Are you sure? This carelessness may cause trouble for you in the future, Father.”

“It’s fine. Roberto.”

Roberto, who did not understand what kind of conversation was happening in front of him, was simply hanging his head.

“Roberto. Please make some good friends.”

Roberto’s life changed immediately after that. He left the facility and moved to the boarding school.

St. Bernardo Boarding School was a strict Catholic school full of children from very respectable families, and had a middle school section, high school section, and college prep section. While students would normally be placed in a six-person room and become accustomed to living together, for Roberto, the troubled child with good grades, as soon as he saw this, he decided on living in a small, one-person room.

Even so, being a child from an institution, he wondered if he was being watched around the school. There, he was suddenly thrown into a melting pot overflowing with young boys.

Every morning before class in a small church on campus, they would read scripture aloud and interpret it, and pray. “Merciful Jesus,” “Man of Truth,” the priests praised, and asked for all suffering to be resolved as they knelt in front of the statue of Christ. But even as he looked at the statue, Roberto couldn’t believe the scrawny, shabby man hanging from the cross was the Savior.

On top of that, he could only interpret the Bible as sounding like a journal of nonsensical daydreams. Looking back on it, it seemed like he didn’t believe in any of it back then.

As always, he was unable to speak. He also became anxious when people would address him, so even when his name was called in class, he wouldn’t respond. Not even he knew what made him so stubborn back then.

The one thing that could be said about him with certainty was that he was always alone.

That, and the other students all existed in bright, sunny place. They always talked, always laughed, and always had fun playing together like little puppies. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t enter that fun, enjoyable place.

Sometimes the boys would get lonely at the boarding school and would talk to each other about their parents. Parents seemed like very special and precious people, and being separated from them seemed to be difficult. But Roberto had no memories of his parents, and as such, he couldn’t understand their sorrow.

Faith, joy, sadness—Roberto couldn’t understand any emotion.

Still, he understood his studies, so that was a way for him to somehow spend his time at the school.

But unlike the bookworm he is now, Roberto didn’t choose specific books to read back then. There was nothing that he truly wanted to do. He simply studied because it was necessary to learn material for class.

Roberto had the labels of “child with issues” and “weird kid from an institution” stuck to him.

Perhaps that should have hurt him, but he was numb to such a feeling. He simply had the memories to not get in anyone’s way, and of hiding himself.

What interested Roberto most was the deserted, quiet area behind the library. It was in a grove of trees between the shed that housed the tools they used for annual events and the hutches they used for raising rabbits and chickens. There, Roberto had the pleasant shade of the trees, and a spot where the sun shone . During breaks, he would go there and spend time staring idly at the clouds. Only then did the inside of his heart become clear, and he could briefly experience peace.

He didn’t want to stand out, but thinking back on it now, he must have stood out as a mysterious child with heretical behavior.

He must have noticed him, too. This place is in plain sight from the reception desk in the library.

Roberto looked in the direction of the library from where he was laying under the elm tree, thought of his past self, and chuckled.

Vatican City is actually located on the west bank of the Tiber River. ↩︎

A recognition accorded by the Catholic Church of a dead person's entrance into Heaven and capacity to intercede on behalf of individuals who pray in his or her name. ↩︎

A specific form of nondirective play therapy for children using a tray of sand and toys. ↩︎

The priests and nuns refer to Roberto as 「問題のある子」- literally, a child with problems. This is similar to “problem child,” which in Japanese is a single word: 「問題児」. However, given the context and Father Lombardo’s comments, the “problem” the priests and nuns are referring to when they call him a “child with problems” is their concern over him seeming as if he has a mental disability, given that he does not speak or respond when spoken to. He’s different from a typical “problem child” in that he doesn’t act out or cause trouble; it’s more of an insensitive way of the priests and nuns saying they think something is mentally wrong with him and subsequently punishing him for it (like hitting him with the rod). ↩︎

#my translation #vatican miracle examiner #vatican kiseki chousakan #t: where the sun shines #i'm going to start spelling roberto's last (technically middle) name without an h from now on #i like it better...

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vantablackcap · 7 years ago

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in 4 easy steps

A (REALLY LATE) birthday gift for @awesomesnafu, with aggressive apologies for being the worst fucking girlfriend on earth <3

“Maybe the event is cancelled,” Sam said hopefully. The bar was dark, and although he could see people moving around inside, he hoped that Sarah wouldn’t notice-- “There are people inside, Samuel. Nice try.” “It was dark! I thought--” “You thought I was born yesterday. We’re going in.” “I don’t want to go to no damn speed-dating event.” “And I don’t wanna hear you complaining about being single all winter. You said you’d try one of these things.” “I hate you.” “I know. You look good!” Sarah said the last part encouragingly as she all but shoved him towards the doors.

The first guy was an immediate write-off, dragging his eyes over Sam in a way that left no doubt as to what he was here for. “I don’t usually go for black guys--” he started, cutting off when Sam got up from his seat. “Do us a favour and keep not going for us,” Sam said, disgusted. “Sam, come on. That date was 5 seconds,” Sarah sighed. She was nursing a cranberry vodka by the bar, waiting for her boyfriend to show up (and make sure her stubborn older brother didn’t slip out of the event and go home.) “Yeah, well. He was looking to sample some chocolate,” Sam muttered angrily. Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “Who?” “No, nope, you’re going to cause a scene.” “I won’t! I just want-- to talk to him.” “You’re going to kill him.” “Probably.” “Can we go now? This is a bust.” “Okay, one more date and then we’ll go when Richie comes.” “Fine,” Sam groaned. He sounded like a teenager bickering with his little sister again, but he didn’t care because this SUCKED.

“Steve,” he offered shortly, brushing his blond fringe out of his eyes. He was doing it again, freezing up and sounding snippy when he didn’t mean to, but this guy was-- wow. There were some people that Steve knew he’d be sketching as soon as he saw them because they were interesting in some aesthetic way, and then there were people who needed to be sketched because the world needed to know how gorgeous they were. This was one of those guys. And Steve could barely make eye contact. His speed date-- Sam-- was toying with the straw in his drink as the uncomfortable silence stretched on. Get it together, Rogers. Ever since he’d come out to his friends, they’d been trying to get him a date. Well-meaning, but pushy-- and if that didn’t often describe Steve himself, he’d be really annoyed by it. But they’d noticed him looking longingly at couples holding hands in the park and decided to give him a little nudge. Well. A shove. “So,” Sam was saying now, “what do you do?” He let out a huff of breath between his lips and flashed a quick grin, and Steve saw that he had a cute little gap between his teeth and just about died right there. Which would have been pretty traumatizing for Sam. “Sorry, that was a pretty weak question. You, uh... don’t seem like you wanna be here much,” Sam continued, shrugging one shoulder. “I don’t,” Steve immediately burst out. He knew he was going red (dammit, Rogers) because it had sounded like he didn’t want to be there with Sam, which wasn’t at all true. “Lucky for you, we only got 2 more minutes on the timer,” Sam said dryly and oh no, Steve had fucked up. “We can just sit here--” “Can I draw you?” “What.” God, even the flat way Sam drawled the word was kind of beautiful. “You-- no, not-- I’m an artist-- I mean, I draw and--” “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt that you didn’t mean to seem like a huge creep with that comeon,” Sam said shortly. Steve shook his head and puffed out his skinny chest. He wasn’t one to give up-- and he didn’t want Sam to think he was some kind of creep. “No, really, I am. I’m... can I be honest?” Sam’s only answer was a slow, elegant raise of an eyebrow that somehow made Steve’s feel butterflies. “You’re gorgeous.” There, he’d said it, and hopefully it didn’t sound too weird. “And here I thought you were shy,” Sam chuckled. He folded his arms and Steve couldn’t help but admire them briefly. “Well... I’m not. I was kinda stunned, to be honest. When you sat down.” “My beauty took your breath away?” Sam said jokingly, but Steve didn’t laugh “Pretty much. I w-- The timer went off. “Okay, folks! Switch partners!” Sam and Steve shared a glance that went on too long to really be called a glance. “Hey, fellas-- looks like you’re having a good time, but we gotta move along, hey?” the organizer was at Steve’s elbow now, and Sam seemed to come back to himself. When they stood to shake hands, Sam noticed that the guy was-- small. He was a little shorter than Sam, just a little past the threshold of hipster skinniness with a mop of unruly blond hair that was definitely hipster. “Steve. I’ll be around,” Sam said, holding out his hand and winking quickly. The guy had the bluest doe eyes behind his thick glasses, and the fingers that slipped into his were strong and calloused. Uh-oh. Sam felt a little light-headed when Steve’s mouth quirked into a smile.

“I’m counting on it, Sam.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t get his number?!” “I dunno! I was trying to wrap up my stupid speed date so I could find him but when I looked up he was gone.” “I saw you two idiots, you were staring at each other like you got smacked with a trout! You didn’t get his kik or nothin?” “His what?” “You suck, Sam.” “Thanks, sis.” Sarah at least took pity on him and bought him a tequila shot. And then another. And then, another.

“What do you mean, you didn’t get his number?!” “I was gonna ask, but he was ... talking to someone else and it looked like they were hitting it off--” “You just spent the last 5 minutes describing the exact shape and colour of his fucking eyes!” “Okay, but--” “And then 5 more minutes talking about his smile!” “Buck, hear me out--” “No, Rogers, you just did the same thing you always do. Reject yourself before someone else does.” “... well... I mean, when you put it that way...” “You suck, Steve.” “Thanks, Buck.”

Sickening amounts of wings and beer helped, but only a little. The tipsier he got, the more Sam’s laughing face swam in front of Steve.

It was only 4 steps. Steve felt like they were 4 miles, because Sam was at the bus stop that he’d been heading towards, and he was arm-in-arm with a tall man. Laughing. It had been almost 3 months since they’d met, and Steve had thought about Sam probably more than was healthy. He certainly sketched him a lot. And here it was -- the spring sunshine slanted across Sam’s face and Steve felt sick with jealousy. But what right did he have? He’d left the damn bar-- “Are you gonna just glare daggers or you comin’ to say hi?” Sam called. Steve blinked. Both Sam and his-- boyfriend? -- were looking at him with no small amount of amusement. Just 4 steps. Or Steve could turn and leave, hope he never ran into Sam again. He walked over to the bus stop, trying to make himself smile. He wasn’t quite sure he managed it. “Hi, Sam. Been a while,” he said, at least managing to inject his voice with self-deprecation instead of self-hate. “A while,” Sam repeated, shaking his head. “Here I was all excited to be an artist’s model and you ghost on me.” “I didn’t--” But he had. “Wait, what?” “Is this artist boy?” Sam’s companion asked, not even pretending to hide how entertaining he found the whole thing. To Steve’s surprise, Sam immediately became flustered, sputtering a little. “Riley, shut the fuck up!” In the bright sun, Steve could just make out a flush touching Sam’s cheeks. A tiny bloom of hope dared to unfurl in his chest. “Oh my fuck, he’s been talking about your beautiful hands and your voice for months,” Riley said, speaking loudly over Sam’s indignant squawks. “Can you please fuck him already so I can have some peace?” “Can I wh-- uh, aren’t you? You two?” “Me and Riley? I’ve known the guy all my life and I would die for him, but that’s fucking gross,” Sam finally managed to get out, looking actively repulsed. Riley levelled a flat look at Sam. “Thanks, man.” But Steve was too busy smiling, because Sam was looking right at him. And he was biting his lip shyly, almost as if he wanted to stop himself from grinning back at Steve. Oh. “Bus is here!” Riley said suddenly, making the two of them jump. “Uh-uh. My bus is here. I ride this,” Riley continued, gesturing to the bus, “and you ride him.” “RILEY.” But Riley was already on the bus, and Sam didn’t make any move to leave. “World’s best wingman,” Riley said just as the doors closed. Steve felt his heart kick into high gear when Sam turned to look at him. “Do you wanna grab a coffee?” Steve surprised himself by asking. “Sure, if you’re buying with your fancy artist money,” Sam replied. Steve felt like the two of them would never stop grinning at each other and didn’t even care that they probably looked like idiots to passers-by. This was gonna be perfect.

"I forgot that this place is closed on Sundays,” Steve sighed. Of course. Sam half-shrugged, not seeming much put out. “Wasn’t really about the coffee, anyway.” Steve might not have been on a lot of dates, but he knew what the thrill through his body meant when Sam gave a slow and frankly, sexy smile. “I got coffee at home? My apartment is kinda far but it’s nice out,” he said faux-lightly. “And I could, uh, draw you. If you still wanted to be my muse.” “Oh, bold.” “No pressure--” “I didn’t say no,” Sam interrupted softly. They didn’t even notice that the walk was almost an hour. Nothing else existed but them.

“Sorry for the mess,” Steve murmured. His room/studio was a fucking disaster and he hoped it wouldn’t put Sam off. “You creative types,” Sam said, laughing as he sat gingerly on the edge of Steve’s bed. God, Steve could live the rest of his life off of that laugh. “I can start the coffee,” Steve offered. He had a suspicion that-- “Why don’t we skip the coffee?” “We can go straight to the drawing,” Steve continued teasingly even as he walked over to Sam. “We could, or...” “Or?” Sam’s fingers were warm in his and Steve needed no urging to sink down, sweeping his leg over Sam’s lap to straddle him. “Oh,” Sam breathed, his deep brown eyes slightly widened. “No?” Steve asked softly. Sam laughed again-- and Steve knew he wanted to be someone that made Sam laugh every day. “Definitely yes,” Sam murmured against Steve’s lips.

1 year later. Sam snored. Not loudly, just a cute little snuffling noise really. Nonetheless, Steve roused from sleep, pleasantly achy and loose-limbed. Sam was curled up in a patch of sunlight like a cat, and Steve’s heart ached with how beautiful he was where the sun made his brown skin glow. He had a smudge of charcoal on his nose, though, and Steve couldn’t help a little snort of laughter at that. Sam’s eyes fluttered open, catching a sunbeam, and-- wow. Steve was going to spend hours trying to find that exact shade of firey orange-brown, like carlisle honey. “Morning, artist boy,” Sam murmured, face still soft with sleep. “You’re a work of art,” Steve said in almost a whisper. He reached out to trace the shape of Sam’s soft lips with his fingers, and Sam leaned into the touch for a few moments-- but he suddenly burst out laughing. “I’m s-sorry, I can’t pretend that wasn’t corny as hell,” he wheezed. Steve felt a laugh bubbling up as well as he thought, yes. He wanted to hear this laugh for the rest of his life.

#THIS IS SICKENING ENJOY IT #Samsteve #Freebird #ficlet #fic #fan fic #Loucifer #awesomesnafu #happy birthday bb #ilu #I mek a post!

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