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Harry Styles isn’t exactly dressed down for lunch. He’s got a white floppy hat that Diana Ross might have won from Elton in a poker game at Cher’s mansion circa 1974, plus Gucci shades, a cashmere sweater, and blue denim bell-bottoms. His nail polish is pink and mint green. He’s also carrying his purse — no other word for it — a yellow patent-canvas bag with the logo “Chateau Marmont.” The tough old ladies who work at this Beverly Hills deli know him well. Gloria and Raisa dote on him, calling him “my love” and bringing him his usual tuna salad and iced coffee. He turns heads, to put it mildly, but nobody comes near because the waitresses hover around the booth protectively.

He was just a small-town English lad of 16 when he became his generation’s pop idol with One Direction. When the group went on hiatus, he struck out on his own with his brash 2017 solo debut, whose lead single was the magnificently over-the-top six-minute piano ballad “Sign of the Times.” Even people who missed out on One Direction were shocked to learn the truth: This pinup boy was a rock star at heart.

A quick highlight reel of Harry’s 2019 so far: He hosted the Met Gala with Lady Gaga, Serena Williams, Alessandro Michele, and Anna Wintour serving an eyebrow-raising black lace red-carpet look. He is the official face of a designer genderless fragrance, Gucci’s Mémoire d’une Odeur. When James Corden had an all-star dodgeball match on The Late Late Show, Harry got spiked by a hard serve from Michelle Obama, making him perhaps the first Englishman ever hit in the nads on TV by a First Lady.

Closer to his heart, he brought down the house at this year’s Rock & Roll Hall of Fame ceremony with his tribute to his friend and idol Stevie Nicks. “She’s always there for you,” Harry said in his speech. “She knows what you need: advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl.” He added, “She’s responsible for more running mascara — including my own — than all the bad dates in history.” (Backstage, Nicks accidentally referred to Harry’s former band as “’NSync.” Hey, a goddess can get away with that sort of thing.)

Harry has been the world’s It boy for nearly a decade now. The weirdest thing about him? He loves being this guy. In a style of fast-lane celebrity that takes a ruthless toll on the artist’s personality, creativity, sanity, Harry is almost freakishly at ease. He has managed to grow up in public with all his boyish enthusiasm intact, not to mention his manners. He’s dated a string of high-profile women — but he never gets caught uttering any of their names in public, much less shading any of them. Instead of going the usual superstar-pop route — en vogue producers, celebrity duets, glitzy club beats — he’s gone his own way, and gotten more popular than ever. He’s putting the finishing touches on his new album, full of the toughest, most soulful songs he’s written yet. As he explains, “It’s all about having sex and feeling sad.”

The Harry Charm is a force of nature, and it can be almost frightening to witness in action. The most startling example might be a backstage photo from February taken with one of his heroes, Van Morrison. You have never seen a Van picture like this one. He’s been posing for photos for 50 years, and he’s been refusing to crack a smile in nearly all of them. Until he met Harry — for some reason, Van beams like a giddy schoolgirl. What did Harry do to him? “I was tickling him behind his back,” Harry confides. “Somebody sent me that photo — I think his tour manager took it. When I saw it, I felt like John Travolta in Pulp Fiction opening the case with the gold light shining. I was like, ‘Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t show this to anyone.’”

In interviews, Harry has always tended to coast on that charm, simply because he can. In his teens, he was in public every minute and became adept at guarding every scrap of his privacy. But these days, he’s finding out he has things he wants to say. He’s more confident about thinking out loud and seeing what happens. “Looser” is how he puts it. “More open. I’m discovering how much better it makes me feel to be open with friends. Feeling that vulnerability, rather than holding everything in.”

Like a lot of people his age, he’s asking questions about culture, gender, identity, new ideas about masculinity and sexuality. “I feel pretty lucky to have a group of friends who are guys who would talk about their emotions and be really open,” he says. “My friend’s dad said to me, ‘You guys are so much better at it than we are. I never had friends I could really talk to. It’s good that you guys have each other because you talk about real shit. We just didn’t.’”

It’s changed how he approaches his songs. “For me, it doesn’t mean I’ll sit down and be like, ‘This is what I have for dinner, and this is where I eat every day, and this is what I do before I go to bed,’” he says. “But I will tell you that I can be really pathetic when I’m jealous. Feeling happier than I’ve ever been, sadder than I’ve ever been, feeling sorry for myself, being mad at myself, being petty and pitiful — it feels really different to share that.”

At times, Harry sounds like an ordinary 25-year-old figuring his shit out, which, of course, he is. (Harry and I got to know each other last year, when he got in touch after reading one of my books, though I’d already been writing about his music for years.) It’s strange to hear him talk about shedding his anxieties and doubts, since he’s always come across as one of the planet’s most confident people. “While I was in the band,” he says, “I was constantly scared I might sing a wrong note. I felt so much weight in terms of not getting things wrong. I remember when I signed my record deal and I asked my manager, ‘What happens if I get arrested? Does it mean the contract is null and void?’ Now, I feel like the fans have given me an environment to be myself and grow up and create this safe space to learn and make mistakes.”

We slip out the back and spend a Saturday afternoon cruising L.A. in his 1972 silver Jaguar E-type. The radio doesn’t work, so we just sing “Old Town Road.” He marvels, “‘Bull riding and boobies’ — that is potentially the greatest lyric in any song ever.” Harry used to be pop’s mystery boy, so diplomatic and tight-lipped. But as he opens up over time, telling his story, he reaches the point where he’s pitching possible headlines for this profile. His best: “Soup, Sex, and Sun Salutations.”

How did he get to this new place? As it turns out, the journey involves some heartbreak. Some guidance from David Bowie. Some Transcendental Meditation. And more than a handful of magic mushrooms. But mostly, it comes down to a curious kid who can’t decide whether to be the world’s most ardently adored pop star, or a freaky artiste. So he decides to be both.

Two things about English rock stars never change: They love Southern California, and they love cars. A few days after Harry proclaimed the genius of “Old Town Road,” we’re in a different ride — a Tesla — cruising the Pacific Coast Highway while Harry sings along to the radio. “Californiaaaaaa!” he yells from behind the wheel as we whip past Zuma Beach. “It sucks!” There’s a surprising number of couples along the beach who seem to be arguing. We speculate on which ones are breaking up and which are merely having the talk. “Ah, yes, the talk,” Harry says dreamily. “Ye olde chat.”

Harry is feeling the smooth Seventies yacht-rock grooves today, blasting Gerry Rafferty, Pablo Cruise, Hall and Oates. When I mention that Nina Simone once did a version of “Rich Girl,” he needs to hear it right away. He counters by blowing my mind with Donny Hathaway’s version of John Lennon’s “Jealous Guy.”

Harry raves about a quintessential SoCal trip he just tried: a “cold sauna,” a process that involves getting locked in an ice chamber. His eyelashes froze. We stop for a smoothie (“It’s basically ice cream”) and his favorite pepper-intensive wheatgrass shot. It goes down like a dose of battery acid. “That’ll add years to your life,” he assures me.

We’re on our way to Shangri-La studios in Malibu, founded by the Band back in the 1970s, now owned by Rick Rubin. It’s where Harry made some of the upcoming album, and as we walk in, he grins at the memory. “Ah, yes,” he says. “Did a lot of mushrooms in here.”

Psychedelics have started to play a key role in his creative process. “We’d do mushrooms, lie down on the grass, and listen to Paul McCartney’s Ram in the sunshine,” he says. “We’d just turn the speakers into the yard.” The chocolate edibles were kept in the studio fridge, right next to the blender. “You’d hear the blender going, and think, ‘So we’re all having frozen margaritas at 10 a.m. this morning.’” He points to a corner: “This is where I was standing when we were doing mushrooms and I bit off the tip of my tongue. So I was trying to sing with all this blood gushing out of my mouth. So many fond memories, this place.”

It’s not mere rock-star debauchery — it’s emblematic of his new state of mind. You get the feeling this is why he enjoys studios so much. After so many years making One Direction albums while touring, always on the run, he finally gets to take his time and embrace the insanity of it all. “We were here for six weeks in Malibu, without going into the city,” he says. “People would bring their dogs and kids. We’d take a break to play cornhole tournaments. Family values!” But it’s also the place where he has proudly bled for his art. “Mushrooms and Blood. Now there’s an album title.”

Some of the engineers come over to catch up on gossip. Harry gestures out the window to the Pacific waves, where the occasional nude revelry might have happened, and where the occasional pair of pants got lost. “There was one night where we’d been partying a bit and ended up going down to the beach and I lost all my stuff, basically,” he says. “I lost all my clothes. I lost my wallet. Maybe a month later, somebody found my wallet and mailed it back, anonymously. I guess it just popped out of the sand. But what’s sad is, I lost my favorite mustard corduroy flares.” A moment of silence is held for the corduroy flares.

Recording in the studio today is Brockhampton, the self-proclaimed “world’s greatest boy band.” Harry says hi to all the Brockhampton guys, which takes a while since there seem to be a few dozen of them. “We’re together all the time,” one tells Harry out in the yard. “We see each other all day, every day.” He pauses. “You know how it is.”

Harry breaks into a dry grin. “Yes, I know how it is.”

One Direction made three of this century’s biggest and best pop albums in a rush — Midnight Memories, Four and Made in the A.M. Yet they cut those records on tour, ducking into the nearest studio when they had a day off. 1D were a unique mix of five different musical personalities: Harry, Niall Horan, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik, and Liam Payne. But the pace took its toll. Malik quit in the middle of a tour, immediately after a show in Hong Kong. The band announced its hiatus in August 2015.

It’s traditional for boy-band singers, as they go solo and grow up, to renounce their pop past. Everybody remembers George Michael setting his leather jacket on fire, or Sting quitting the Police to make jazz records. This isn’t really Harry Styles’ mentality. “I know it’s the thing that always happens. When somebody gets out of a band, they go, ‘That wasn’t me. I was held back.’ But it was me. And I don’t feel like I was held back at all. It was so much fun. If I didn’t enjoy it, I wouldn’t have done it. It’s not like I was tied to a radiator.”

Whenever Harry mentions One Direction — never by name, always “the band” or “the band I was in” — he uses the past tense. It is my unpleasant duty to ask: Does he see 1D as over? “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t think I’d ever say I’d never do it again, because I don’t feel that way. If there’s a time when we all really want to do it, that’s the only time for us to do it, because I don’t think it should be about anything else other than the fact that we’re all like, ‘Hey, this was really fun. We should do this again.’ But until that time, I feel like I’m really enjoying making music and experimenting. I enjoy making music this way too much to see myself doing a full switch, to go back and do that again. Because I also think if we went back to doing things the same way, it wouldn’t be the same, anyway.”

When the band stopped, did he take those friendships with him? “Yeah, I think so,” he says. “Definitely. Because above all else, we’re the people who went through that. We’re always going to have that, even if we’re not the closest. And the fact is, just because you’re in a band with someone doesn’t mean you have to be best friends. That’s not always how it works. Just because Fleetwood Mac fight, that doesn’t mean they’re not amazing. I think even in the disagreements, there’s always a mutual respect for each other — we did this really cool thing together, and we’ll always have that. It’s too important to me to ever be like, ‘Oh, that’s done.’ But if it happens, it will happen for the right reasons.”

If the intensity of the Harry fandom ever seems mysterious to you, there’s a live clip you might want to investigate, from the summer of 2018. Just search the phrase “Tina, she’s gay.” In San Jose, on one of the final nights of his tour, Harry spots a fan with a homemade sign: “I’m Gonna Come Out to My Parents Because of You!” He asks the fan her name (she says it’s Grace) and her mother’s name (Tina). He asks the audience for silence because he has an important announcement to make: “Tina! She’s gaaaaay!” Then he has the entire crowd say it together. Thousands of strangers start yelling “Tina, she’s gay,” and every one of them clearly means it — it’s a heavy moment, definitely not a sound you forget after you hear it. Then Harry sings “What Makes You Beautiful.” (Of course, the way things work now, the clip went viral within minutes. So did Grace’s photo of Tina giving a loving thumbs-up to her now-out teenage daughter. Grace and Tina attended Harry’s next show together.)

Harry likes to cultivate an aura of sexual ambiguity, as overt as the pink polish on his nails. He’s dated women throughout his life as a public figure, yet he has consistently refused to put any kind of label on his sexuality. On his first solo tour, he frequently waved the pride, bi, and trans flags, along with the Black Lives Matter flag. In Philly, he waved a rainbow flag he borrowed from a fan up front: “Make America Gay Again.” One of the live fan favorites: “Medicine,” a guitar jam that sounds a bit like the Grateful Dead circa Europe ’72, but with a flamboyantly pansexual hook: “The boys and girls are in/I mess around with them/And I’m OK with it.”

He’s always had a flair for flourishes like this, since the 1D days. An iconic clip from November 2014: Harry and Liam are on a U.K. chat show. The host asks the oldest boy-band fan-bait question in the book: What do they look for in a date? “Female,” Liam quips. “That’s a good trait.” Harry shrugs. “Not that important.” Liam is taken aback. The host is in shock. On tour in the U.S. that year, he wore a Michael Sam football jersey, in support of the first openly gay player drafted by an NFL team. He’s blown up previously unknown queer artists like King Princess and Muna.

What do those flags onstage mean to him? “I want to make people feel comfortable being whatever they want to be,” he says. “Maybe at a show you can have a moment of knowing that you’re not alone. I’m aware that as a white male, I don’t go through the same things as a lot of the people that come to the shows. I can’t claim that I know what it’s like, because I don’t. So I’m not trying to say, ‘I understand what it’s like.’ I’m just trying to make people feel included and seen.”

On tour, he had an End Gun Violence sticker on his guitar; he added a Black Lives Matter sticker, as well as the flag. “It’s not about me trying to champion the cause, because I’m not the person to do that,” he says. “It’s just about not ignoring it, I guess. I was a little nervous to do that because the last thing I wanted was for it to feel like I was saying, ‘Look at me! I’m the good guy!’ I didn’t want anyone who was really involved in the movement to think, ‘What the fuck do you know?’ But then when I did it, I realized people got it. Everyone in that room is on the same page and everyone knows what I stand for. I’m not saying I understand how it feels. I’m just trying to say, ‘I see you.’”

At one of his earliest solo shows, in Stockholm, he announced, “If you are black, if you are white, if you are gay, if you are straight, if you are transgender — whoever you are, whoever you want to be, I support you. I love every single one of you.” “It’s a room full of accepting people.… If you’re someone who feels like an outsider, you’re not always in a big crowd like that,” he says. “It’s not about, ‘Oh, I get what it’s like,’ because I don’t. For example, I go walking at night before bed most of the time. I was talking about that with a female friend and she said, ‘Do you feel safe doing that?’ And I do. But when I walk, I’m more aware that I feel OK to walk at night, and some of my friends wouldn’t. I’m not saying I know what it feels like to go through that. It’s just being aware.”

‘Man cannot live by coffee alone,” Harry says. “But he will give it a damn good try.” He sips his iced Americano — not his first today, or his last. He’s back behind the wheel, on a mission to yet another studio — but this time for actual work. Today it’s string overdubs. Harry is dressed in Gucci from head to toe, except for one item of clothing: a ratty Seventies rock T-shirt he proudly scavenged from a vintage shop. It says “Commander Quaalude.”

On the drive over, he puts on the jazz pianist Bill Evans — “Peace Piece,” from 1959, which is the wake-up tone on his phone. He just got into jazz during a long sojourn in Japan. He likes to find places to hide out and be anonymous: For his first album, he decamped to Jamaica. Over the past year, he spent months roaming Japan.

In February, he spent his 25th birthday sitting by himself in a Tokyo cafe, reading Haruki Murakami’s The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. “I love Murakami,” he says. “He’s one of my favorites. Reading didn’t really used to be my thing. I had such a short attention span. But I was dating someone who gave me some books; I felt like I had to read them because she’d think I was a dummy if I didn’t read them.”

A friend gave him Murakami’s Norwegian Wood. “It was the first book, maybe ever, where all I wanted to do all day was read this,” he says. “I had a very Murakami birthday because I ended up staying in Tokyo on my own. I had grilled fish and miso soup for breakfast, then I went to this cafe. I sat and drank tea and read for five hours.”

In the studio, he’s overseeing the string quartet. He has the engineers play T. Rex’s “Cosmic Dancer” for them, to illustrate the vibe he’s going for. You can see he enjoys being on this side of the glass, sitting at the Neve board, giving his instructions to the musicians. After a few run-throughs, he presses the intercom button to say, “Yeah, it’s pretty T. Rex. Best damn strings I ever heard.” He buzzes again to add, “And you’re all wonderful people.”

He’s curated his own weird enclave of kindred spirits to collaborate with, like producers Jeff Bhasker and Tyler Johnson. His guitarist Mitch Rowland was working at an L.A. pizza shop when Harry met him. They started writing songs for the debut; Rowland didn’t quit his job until two weeks into the sessions. One of his closest collaborators is also one of his best friends: Tom Hull, a.k.a. Kid Harpoon, a longtime cohort of Florence and the Machine. Hull is an effusive Brit with a heart-on-sleeve personality. Harry calls him “my emotional rock.” Hull calls him “Gary.”

Hull was the one who talked him into taking a course on Transcendental Meditation at David Lynch’s institute — beginning each day with 20 minutes of silence, which doesn’t always come naturally to either of them. “He’s got this wise-beyond-his-years timelessness about him,” Hull says. “That’s why he went on a whole emotional exploration with these songs.” He’s 12 years older, with a wife and kids in Scotland, and talks about Harry like an irreverent but doting big brother.

Last year, Harry was in the gossip columns dating the French model Camille Rowe; they split up last summer after a year together. “He went through this breakup that had a big impact on him,” Hull says. “I turned up on Day One in the studio, and I had these really nice slippers on. His ex-girlfriend that he was really cut up about, she gave them to me as a present — she bought slippers for my whole family. We’re still close friends with her. I thought, ‘I like these slippers. Can I wear them — is that weird?’

“So I turn up at Shangri-La the first day and literally within the first half-hour, he looks at me and says, ‘Where’d you get those slippers? They’re nice.’ I had to say, ‘Oh, um, your ex-girlfriend got them for me.’ He said, ‘Whaaaat? How could you wear those?’ He had a whole emotional journey about her, this whole relationship. But I kept saying, ‘The best way of dealing with it is to put it in these songs you’re writing.’”

True to his code of gallant discretion, Harry doesn’t say her name at any point. But he admits the songs are coming from personal heartbreak. “It’s not like I’ve ever sat and done an interview and said, ‘So I was in a relationship, and this is what happened,’” he says. “Because, for me, music is where I let that cross over. It’s the only place, strangely, where it feels right to let that cross over.”

The new songs are certainly charged with pain. “The stars didn’t align for them to be a forever thing,” Hull says. “But I told him that famous Iggy Pop quote where he says, ‘I only ever date women who are going to fuck me up, because that’s where the songs are.’ I said, ‘You’re 24, 25 years old, you’re in the eligible-bachelor category. Just date amazing women, or men, or whatever, who are going to fuck you up, and explore and have an adventure and let it affect you and write songs about it.’”

His band is full of indie rockers who’ve gotten swept up in Hurricane Harry. Before becoming his iconic drum goddess, Sarah Jones played in New Young Pony Club, a London band fondly remembered by a few dozen of us. Rowland and Jones barely knew anything about One Direction before they met Harry — the first time they heard “Story of My Life” was when he asked them to play it. Their conversation is full of references to Big Star or Guided by Voices or the Nils Lofgren guitar solo in Neil Young’s “Speakin’ Out.” This is a band full of shameless rock geeks, untainted by industry professionalism.

In the studio, while making the album, Harry kept watching a vintage Bowie clip on his phone — a late-Nineties TV interview I’d never seen. As he plays it for me, he recites along — he’s got the rap memorized. “Never play to the gallery,” Bowie advises. “Never work for other people in what you do.” For Harry, this was an inspiring pep talk — a reminder not to play it safe. As Bowie says, “If you feel safe in the area that you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area. Always go a little further into the water than you feel you are capable of being in. Go a little bit out of your depth. And when you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting.”

He got so obsessive about Joni Mitchell and her 1971 classic Blue, he went on a quest. “I was in a big Joni hole,” he says. “I kept hearing the dulcimer all over Blue. So I tracked down the lady who built Joni’s dulcimers in the Sixties.” He found her living in Culver City. “She said, ‘Come and see me,’” Hull says. “We turn up at her house and he said, ‘How do you even play a dulcimer?’ She gave us a lesson. Then she got a bongo and we were all jamming with these big Cheshire Cat grins.” She built the dulcimer Harry plays on the new album. “Joni Mitchell and Van Morrison, those are my two favorites,” he says. “Blue and Astral Weeks are just the ultimate in terms of songwriting. Melody-wise, they’re in their own lane.”

He’s always been the type to go overboard with his fanboy enthusiasms, ever since he was a kid and got his mind blown by Pulp Fiction. “I watched it when I was probably too young,” he admits. “But when I was 13, I saved up money from my paper route to buy a ‘Bad Motherfucker’ wallet. Just a stupid white kid in the English countryside with that wallet.” While in Japan, he got obsessively into Paul McCartney and Wings, especially London Town and Back to the Egg. “In Tokyo I used to go to a vinyl bar, but the bartender didn’t have Wings records. So I brought him Back to the Egg. ‘Arrow Through Me,’ that was the song I had to hear every day when I was in Japan.”

He credits meditation for helping to loosen him up. “I was such a skeptic going in,” he says. “But I think meditation has helped with worrying about the future less, and the past less. I feel like I take a lot more in—things that used to pass by me because I was always rushing around. It’s part of being more open and talking with friends. It’s not always the easiest to go in a room and say, ‘I made a mistake and it made me feel like this, and then I cried a bunch.’ But that moment where you really let yourself be in that zone of being vulnerable, you reach this feeling of openness. That’s when you feel like, ‘Oh, I’m fucking living, man.’”

After quite a few hours of recording the string quartet, a bottle of Casamigos tequila is opened. Commander Quaalude pours the drinks, then decides what the song needs now is a gaggle of nonsingers bellowing the chorus. “Muppet vocals” is how he describes it. He drags everyone in sight to crowd around the mics. Between takes, he wanders over to the piano to play Harry Nilsson’s “Gotta Get Up.” One of the choir members, creative director Molly Hawkins, is the friend who gave him the Murakami novel. “I think every man should read Norwegian Wood,” she says. “Harry’s the only man I’ve given it to who actually read it.”

It’s been a hard day’s night in the studio, but after hours, everyone heads to a dive bar on the other side of town to see Rowland play a gig. He’s sitting in with a local bar band, playing bass. Harry drives around looking for the place, taking in the sights of downtown L.A. (“Only a city as narcissistic as L.A. would have a street called Los Angeles Street,” he says.) He strolls in and leans against the bar in the back of the room. It’s an older crowd, and nobody here has any clue who he is. He’s entirely comfortable lurking incognito in a dim gin joint. After the gig, as the band toasts with PBRs, an old guy in a ball cap strolls over and gives Rowland a proud bear hug. It’s his boss from the pizza shop.

In the wee hours, Harry drives down a deserted Sunset Boulevard, his favorite time of night to explore the city streets, arguing over which is the best Steely Dan album. He insists that Can’t Buy a Thrill is better than Countdown to Ecstasy (wrongly), and seals his case by turning it up and belting “Midnight Cruiser” with truly appalling gusto. Tonight Hollywood is full of bright lights, glitzy clubs, red carpets, but the prettiest pop star in town is behind the wheel, singing along with every note of the sax solo from “Dirty Work.”

A few days later, on the other side of the world: Harry’s pad in London is lavish, yet very much a young single dude’s lair. Over here: a wall-size framed Sex Pistols album cover. Over there: a vinyl copy of Stevie Nicks’ The Other Side of the Mirror, casually resting on the floor. He’s having a cup of tea with his mum, Anne, the spitting image of her son, all grace and poise. “We’re off to the pub,” he tells her. “We’re going to talk some shop.” She smiles sweetly. “Talk some shit, probably,” says Anne.

We head off to his local, sloshing through the rain. He’s wearing a Spice World hoodie and savoring the soggy London-osity of the day. “Ah, Londres!” he says grandly. “I missed this place.” He wants to sit at a table outside, even though it’s pouring, and we chat away the afternoon over a pot of mint tea and a massive plate of fish and chips. When I ask for toast, the waitress brings out a loaf of bread roughly the size of a wheelbarrow. “Welcome to England,” Harry says.

He’s always had a fervent female fandom, and, admirably, he’s never felt a need to pretend he doesn’t love it that way. “They’re the most honest — especially if you’re talking about teenage girls, but older as well,” he says. “They have that bullshit detector. You want honest people as your audience. We’re so past that dumb outdated narrative of ‘Oh, these people are girls, so they don’t know what they’re talking about.’ They’re the ones who know what they’re talking about. They’re the people who listen obsessively. They fucking own this shit. They’re running it.”

He doesn’t have the uptightness some people have about sexual politics, or about identifying as a feminist. “I think ultimately feminism is thinking that men and women should be equal, right? People think that if you say ‘I’m a feminist,’ it means you think men should burn in hell and women should trample on their necks. No, you think women should be equal. That doesn’t feel like a crazy thing to me. I grew up with my mum and my sister — when you grow up around women, your female influence is just bigger. Of course men and women should be equal. I don’t want a lot of credit for being a feminist. It’s pretty simple. I think the ideals of feminism are pretty straightforward.”

His audience has a reputation for ferocity, and the reputation is totally justified. At last summer’s show at Madison Square Garden, the floor was wobbling during “Kiwi” — I’ve been seeing shows there since the 1980s, but I’d never seen that happen before. (The only other time? His second night.) His bandmates admit they feared for their lives, but Harry relished it. “To me, the greatest thing about the tour was that the room became the show,” he says. “It’s not just me.” He sips his tea. “I’m just a boy, standing in front of a room, asking them to bear with him.”

That evening, Fleetwood Mac take the stage in London — a sold-out homecoming gig at Wembley Stadium, the last U.K. show of their tour. Needless to say, their most devoted fan is in the house. Harry has brought a date: his mother, her first Fleetwood Mac show. He’s also with his big sister Gemma, bandmates Rowland and Jones, a couple of friends.

He’s in hyperactive-host mode, buzzing around his cozy VIP box, making sure everyone’s champagne glass is topped off at all times. As soon as the show begins, Harry’s up on his feet, singing along (“Tell me, tell me liiiiies!”) and cracking jokes. You can tell he feels free — as if his radar is telling him there aren’t snoopers or paparazzi watching. (He’s correct. This is a rare public appearance where nobody spots him and no photos leak online.) It’s family night. His friend Mick Fleetwood wilds out on the drum solo. “Imagine being that cool,” Gemma says.

Midway through the show, Harry’s demeanor suddenly changes. He gets uncharacteristically solemn and quiet, sitting down by himself and focusing intently on the stage. It’s the first time all night he’s taken a seat. He’s in a different zone than he was in a few minutes ago. But he’s seen many Fleetwood Mac shows, and he knows where they are in the set. It’s time for “Landslide.” He sits with his chin in hand, his eyes zeroing in on Stevie Nicks. As usual, she introduces her most famous song with the story of how she wrote it when she was just a lass of 27.

But Stevie has something else she wants to share. She tells the stadium crowd, “I’d like to dedicate this to my little muse, Harry Styles, who brought his mother tonight. Her name is Anne. And I think you did a really good job raising Harry, Anne. Because he’s really a gentleman, sweet and talented, and, boy, that appeals to me. So all of you, this is for you.”

As Stevie starts to sing “Landslide” — “I’ve been afraid of changing, because I built my life around youuuu” — Anne walks over to where Harry sits. She crouches down behind him, reaches her arms around him tightly. Neither of them says a word. They listen together and hold each other close to the very end of the song. Everybody in Wembley is singing along with Stevie, but these two are in a world of their own.

#harry styles #rs #260819 #drug mention

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thisbitchinthecorner · 5 years ago

Text

1503 and 1519 Day- 28 Snowball

For @drawlight

Snowball Prompt

1503 Part 1

“Signore Crowley! How good it is to see your face once again.” The painter hugged the tall and stately gentleman as he entered his workshop.

“And yours. It has been too long.” Crowley said as he returned the embrace.

“Yet the years have been kind to you, still as handsome as ever. Tell me, have you settled down yet? Found a companion to share your life with?” The artist asked eagerly.

“There is someone, but I know nothing will come of it. We are just too different.”

“Why is that?”

“Because my love is like an angel, good and pure, with eyes of blue and pale hair. Too perfect for someone like myself.”

“I see. This angel of yours is out of your reach then?”

“Unfortunately. But I suppose that’s my lot in life, to suffer the curse of unrequited love.” Crowley grumbled. “How goes the painting? Finished the lady and the weasel yet?”

“Ah, Signore Sforza’s mistress. Yes, yes all done. I have a new commission, one that stirs me to my very soul. I fear I may never finish.”

“What is it about this subject that is so difficult? Are they that ugly?” Crowley scoffed.

“On the contrary, she is mysterious, aloof and throughly captivating. There is something hidden just behind her eyes, it’s as if she has a secret that I could uncover if I look long enough.”

“Sounds like you’re making it harder than necessary.”

“Perhaps.” The artist concluded. “Come, have a look. This is a sketch that has damn near driven me to madness.”

“Looks alright to me, just an ordinary woman.” Crowley said, clearly unimpressed, while the painter studied him closely.

“Ahhh, can I ask a favor of you, my friend? Will you sit for me, so that I might paint you? I could use some inspiration, and there is no greater subject than you.”

“Well, I suppose. But I’m going to need some wine- and not that cheap stuff you give your apprentices!” Crowley quipped while pulling up a chair.

“I will need to see your eyes, Signore Crowley. How can you expect me to capture your radiance?”

“Is that necessary? I have this condition, and the light bothers me...”

“You think that I don’t know what you are, what you truly are? Ha! You’re not the only one keeping one of Her secrets.” His old friend offered a half smile as he gathered his paintbrushes.

Crowley sat, bewildered by this revelation, and a look of confusion set upon his face. How could he know? He’s just a man?

For a long while, the demon pondered his old friend’s words, mulling them over as he sat.

“It’s brilliant!” The painter exclaimed as he gazed over his work. “Just brilliant.”

Crowley slid from his seat, eager to see his likeness, yet the artist showed him away.

“No no! I’m not showing you! You will say something that will make me hate it, and I need this as a reference. Perhaps when I am finished with Signore del Giocondo’s commission, I will show you.”

“I will be away for a while, but I will get back here to see you as soon as I’m able.” Crowley clasped his friend on the arm as he said his farewell. “Perhaps next time we can talk about Her.”

“Perhaps.” Leonardo da Vinci said with a wink.

......

1519 Part 2

In the vibrant city of Florence, an angel leaving the library sees a familiar face in the crowd.

“Crowley? Fancy running into you here.” Aziraphale’s smile was warm and welcoming. “What brings you to Florence this time of the year?”

“Hello Aziraphale.” The demon said with surprise. “I’ve been in and out of this city for quite sometime now, this is the center of the world, and I’d be a fool not to make my presence known. Though I’ve only recently come back here in the last few months. Seems my return was too late...”. Crowley’s voice trailed.

“Don’t tell me you’re tempting these good people into evil deeds? These humans have become quite progressive and made great strides in their quest for knowledge.” The angel fretted as he patted a book in his hand.

“No! I’m not here on business, just enjoying the sights, that’s all.” Crowley grumbled at the angel’s assumptions. “Spending my Christmas here, no Hell, no duties and no temptations.”

“There is much to enjoy here. Care to stroll through the marketplace? I hear it’s filled with exotic treasures and delicious treats.” Aziraphale grinned as he raised his eyebrows.

“Always about food with you.”

“And wine! They have excellent vineyards not far from here, and the wine is some of the best in the world. We’d be amiss if we were to pass on this opportunity.” Aziraphale didn’t wait for the demon to answer, he began meandering down the cobblestone street towards the bustling center of town. The demon, as always, followed.

They strolled together, side by side, inspecting the wares from far and wide; carts and stands peddling fine silks, spices and teas settled in between painters offering their works, jewelers with gold and silver, writers and poets reading aloud from their latest offerings. Aziraphale, enchanted by them all, marveled at the market’s splendor. Crowley stood and watched his counterpart with amusement.

“Enjoying yourself?” Crowley asked as Aziraphale took a bite from a green fruit.

“Oh! This is delicious.” The angel sighed. “Try a bite. It’s called a pear, and it’s heavenly!”

“Pass. What is this here?” Crowley started towards a group of musicians, eager to hear their songs. Aziraphale slipped away to a booth located in the center of the market.

“The artist is very good.” Aziraphale said to the man seated among a slew of artwork; some were sketches of machines, one was of a set of seemingly mechanical wings.

“Signore da Vinci was the best in the world. Why, you’d be fortunate to have one of his works.” The man, clearly a former apprentice, answered.

“This one is particularly lovely!” Aziraphale remarked as he pointed to a rough sketch of an exquisite being, long flowing hair, a sharply angled jaw and vibrant eyes that appeared to peer straight through him. “I say, how much for that one?”

Aziraphale paid the peddler and looked once more at the sketch. “Such a beautiful subject, reminds me of someone.” The angel glanced knowingly at the demon who stood listening to the group of musicians, unaware that he had stepped away.

“Lively music!” Aziraphale said as he appeared beside the demon.

“They have an interesting sound.”

“Look, chocolates! How fortunate!” Aziraphale said with excitement as his eyes grew wide.

“I’ll take the lot.” Crowley handed the woman some coins as she packaged the candies. “You can’t have all of them, I need a few of them for some friends.”

“Friends?” Aziraphale questioned.

“What’s wrong with that? A demon can’t have friends?”

“I did not mean it like that! I was just surprised, that’s all. I’ve been trying not to become attached to them, the humans that is, I get oh so upset when they die.”

“Tell me about it.” Crowley frowned remembering the one he just lost. As if on cue, the sky changed, the air grew crisp and cold and frozen bits of water fell from the sky.

“Oh Crowley! It’s snowing!” Aziraphale’s eyes lit up as the tiny white flakes descended upon the ground.

“That is unusual, even for this time of year.” Crowley shivered as the snow began to fall harder. “Care for a drink? I would prefer to out of this weather.”

Aziraphale noticed the demon’s discomfort. “I would love a drink. Do you happen to know anywhere in the city?”

“I do, this way.” Crowley rubbed his arms briskly to keep warm.

Aziraphale linked his arm with Crowley’s, pulling his body closer, in the attempt to warm the freezing demon. Such a gesture was a simple act of kindness.

As the walked together, arm in arm, the angel chatting happily about the various wines he’d come to adore, when they were interrupted by a group of children. A ball of snow unexpectedly struck Aziraphale in the back and a second snow ball stuck Crowley in the chest.

“Signore Crowley! We got you! We got you!” Several of the children laughed as they circled the pair. “Pardon, Signore, we weren’t aiming for you.” One of the kids apologized to the angel.

“That you did, but now it’s my turn! You’d better run!” Crowley grinned as he scooped up some fresh snow from the ground and tossed it gently into the air, making it burst in spectacular fashion as it fell around the kids. They laughed with delight, as did the demon, smiling at the mischievous youth. “You’ve won, fair and square. Here now, have a chocolate. But save some for me and my companion. Oy! Not that one, it has liquor inside.” Crowley continued to smile as the children each picked from the various treats before running off.

“Friends of yours?” Aziraphale asked as he brushed the snow from his jacket.

“Just some of the kids around the neighborhood. Normally we throw tomatoes at each other as a means of a game. They’ve never hit me before, seems I was a bit distracted.” Crowley shrugged.

Aziraphale softened. “You’ve always had a way with kids. It’s sweet.”

“Maybe I’m just corrupting them. Planting the seeds of evil while they’re young.”

“You and I both know that’s a lie.”

“I like children, they’re curious and innocent and they don’t judge you.” The demon remarked plainly.

Aziraphale felt a pain of sadness, God judged you for your curiosity, you didn’t deserve the harsh punishment you received. Such a realization had not dawned upon him before, and he felt tears filling his eyes.

“You alright?” Crowley asked.

“I’m fine, just a bit of snow in my eyes, that’s all.” The angel answered, linking his arm once more as the demon lead them into a small inn.

The pair enjoyed their share of wine and chocolates as the snow continued to fall.

“I must say, thank you for the treats and for the wonderful afternoon.” Aziraphale said with sincerity. “I have something for you, I found it today at the market and I thought of you.” The angel produced the sketch and gave it to the demon. “Such a beautiful subject, the artist did a magnificent job capturing their likeness, don’t you think?”

Crowley looked at the portrait, remembering the day he sat for his friend and the strange revelation the painter revealed to him- the revelation he never got to hear due to da Vinci’s recent passing. The demon said nothing as he shrugged, however the blush upon his cheeks and the catch in his throat let the angel know that he was thankful.

I know he was dear to you, he was dear to me too and I also miss him terribly. Aziraphale thought as he looked at the ground, trying not to give himself away.

“Anyway, Happy Christmas Crowley. I’m off to London, meant to do some blessings for the New Year. Until we meet again.” Aziraphale offered a little wave before leaving the inn.

Happy Christmas, dear Aziraphale, this gift means more to me than you could ever know.

Crowley sat a while longer, he continued to stare at the sketch as he drank. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he remembered the man who was kind, genuine, curious, sincere and above all, incredibly talented and a genius ahead of his time.

#31 days of ineffables #ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #justenoughofabastardtobeworthknowing

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godzillamendoza · 6 years ago

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My story of abuse and trying to overcome it

I talked about her before. Said some fake name. Avoided details. I’m ready now to tell the whole story. Maybe sharing it will help me get better. Because I can’t keep living like this. This is the story of how I was abused. And how I’ve tried to recover from it.

It’s 2015. I am 16 years old going on 17. I go to a small private school. Everyone’s either there because their parents keep them sheltered or they were kicked out of somewhere else for being a shitty student. She was the latter. I was the former.

She was really into sex for her age. Guys lined up around the block to ask her for a go. She had been at our school for less than 4 months and had already dated 2 other guys for a bit. I should have seen that as the first warning sign. I sat behind her in history class. I think she noticed one day that I just didn't pay attention to her the same way the other guys would. I just trained myself not to stare. To be polite and keep my feelings to myself after having so many girls treat me badly in middle school. I think she saw me as a challenge because I wasn’t an easy target.

So she started talking to me more. She got my phone number from one of my friends instead of just asking me for it. That should have been the next warning. I talked to her and developed a little crush, but I still had my reservations. She was so abrasive and crude. She cussed like a sailor, smoked behind the school at lunch, and showed up to class buzzed at times. She was set on partying and causing chaos. I was quiet and shy. Back then I had barely said the word "fuck" 3 times in my life.

Eventually she asked out another guy, and he said no. So she texted me about it. By that time I was in her friend zone and I was comfortable there. I assured her that this guy didn't know what he was missing and she'd find someone better. She asked me if I was someone better. She asked me to go out with her. I shut her down and said she was just in the rebound after a rejection and not thinking clearly. We stayed friends after that though.

So she asked again while we were talking one night. And I still said no. I told her I didn't want it to affect our friendship. I think half of it was my fear of her lifestyle and the other half was just not being used to those kinds of interactions. I wasn't ready to be in a relationship yet. Aside from some one-off dates with 2 girls prior that didn't go far, I had never had a girlfriend before.

One day she and a friend of hers called me on Skype while I was play Gmod with my friend Jackson. At first it was just 4 friends hanging out, but she kept steering the conversation, and her friend helped. Both girls kept saying I would be a great match for her, and that we'd be really cute as a couple. She kept insisting and the peer pressure of 2 other people being there made me say yes. She changed our relationship status on Facebook immediately to dating. My family and friends saw it. They were excited for me. A friend of hers named Lexie absolutely hated it and had an angry meltdown in the comments on that post. At first I thought she was being protective of her friend and thinking I wasn't good enough since I wasn't really part of their clique. Those girls dated soccer players or popular kids. I was the quiet guy that no one knew.

The next day was awkward at school. I didn't know how to be a boyfriend so I just acted how I always did. Nervous and always trying to make a joke. I figured if I could make her laugh I was at least doing something right. Her friends gave us nasty looks at lunch and in math class. Lexie was very disapproving and angry, and I thought it was at me for the longest time. I talked with Lexie again recently. She confided in me some very personal things and revealed she was angry about my relationship because she knew her friend was "going to eat you alive, Xavier." She was right. I forgive her for being angry now, because I understand it wasn’t at me.

At the end of that first day I tried to walk home but she grabbed my arm and asked if I was forgetting something. I had my first kiss. Her friends stood around us watching. Judging. Waiting for me to walk away do they could laugh and giggle like teen girls do. I felt terrible because I wanted my first kiss to be more romantic and intimate. Not this awkward, rushed, public thing.

We dated for around 5 months at first. We only got to hang out outside of school twice. The first was a somewhat pleasant date for Valentine's day. It was embarrassing how my mom had to drive us around because I hadn't gotten my drivers permit yet. But otherwise it was okay. We took pictures in a photo booth and hugged and kissed and played games. At the end when I dropped her off, I met her mom. Her mom intentionally spilled hot soup on one of her previous boyfriends, but she liked me. She thought I was charming and smart. She said dating someone like me would be good for her daughter. I really was different from all the guys she had been around. That's my last happy memory with her.

After that, our interactions would sour. She would tell me to stop sitting with my friends at lunch and just stay with her group, who all hated me and didn't talk when I was around. She'd force me to talk with her on Skype for hours while she did boring things like browse tumblr or text her friends. She would guilt trip me if I tried to leave to do anything else.

After 2 weeks, Lexie asked us in the hallway a very forward question. "Have you had sex with her yet?" Lexie seemed baffled when I said no. The girl seemed angry and disappointed. That was a turning point.

She would start being more provocative, more flirtatious. Sending me photos of her in her underwear, slipping her nipple out of her shirt while we talked on Skype. Asking me to send her shirtless pictures. I played along as well as I could but I never took the bait. I never fully gave in and it frustrated her. She started getting more aggressive in asking me and saying sexual things. I could tell she hated how little I reciprocated, but I just wasn't built for it. I didn't know how to do that and I wasn't ready.

I found out she sent pictures of me undressing to her friends. She showed me their reactions like I was supposed to be excited that they complimented my body, but that was a major breach of privacy and trust. One of the girls said "face ain't that great, but the abs are *thumbs up emoji*" or something and it really hit my self esteem. I stopped undressing for her a d taking those pictures. I just cut off from all of that part of our relationship. She hated it.

One day it snowed. Snowed harder than it has in a long time. The sky was just a white void. The ground was covered in fog and blizzard. It looked like Antarctica in our back yards for a day. But the school didn't cancel class.

After school ended, a student veered off the parking lot and hit a post. It caused a lot of chaos as the staff tried to help him and other students put on their parkas and gauked. She took it as an opportunity. She took me to a part of the school where no one went. An isolated little antechamber between the halls and the outside. My grandpa used to drive me home from school because my parents had to work. He called me and said he was outside waiting. She told me to tell him to wait. I made up a lie that I was finishing an assignment. I hung up and she started to kiss me. She got on top of me. I didn't like what was happening. I was frozen and timid. She grabbed my hands and made me touch her because I was too afraid to. I could taste the cigarettes in her mouth. Her braces scratched my lips. I just stopped being in that moment and looked outside at the snow falling. Her hands were cold and I felt this awful shivering in my bones while she touched me in ways I wasn’t comfortable with. It kept escalating and my phone kept ringing over and over. Eventually I found my courage and pushed her off me and told her I needed to leave. She was disappointed and angry that things didn't go any farther. That she didn't get what she wanted again. I felt so violated and sick and disgusting. I went outside in the snow. I couldn't even feel how cold it was. I got to my grandpa's car and he yelled at me for making him wait 40 minutes. I just apologized and asked to go home. He passed away earlier this year in 2020, and he never knew why I was so quiet on that ride home from school. I never told him why I was so afraid and sad on the ride TO school every day after that.

She was angry then. She said hurtful things all the time. Told me sex stories about her previous boyfriends to maybe make me jealous or change my mind. Some days she'd corner me with her friends and they'd make jokes and pressure me to do things with her while they watched. One of her friends tried to pull my shirt off. She called me a faggot. The girl just laughed with them. She didn't see how much it was bothering me. Feeling pressured and watched and all those hands grabbing me and touching me. She just thought it was funny like the rest of them.

She started talking about going to hang out with another guy she met on snap chat. Some guy named Patrick. I said I was worried something would happen between them and she made me feel guilty. Said I was being controlling. I backed off and acted complacent. I was well trained by that point. She didn't hurt me when I just gave her what she wanted. The day after she saw him, she was unusually mean. Calling me names and acting sick of me. I asked her what I did to deserve it and. She broke and told me she felt guilty because something did happen with her and Patrick. For once I decided to stand up for myself. I demanded to have his number. I texted him and asked what had happened. He gave me details while she just stood there, staring at me and looking guilty. He said they had been intimate. That he could give her what I couldn't. He said she complained about me all the time and he would have her by the end of the week. She said he was lying and she loved me, but I knew better. I felt the first panic attack of my life. I started shaking uncontrollably. I couldn't breathe. I was trying not to tear my hair out and cry. I was so panicked that after I was done calling her I just laid on the floor of my room and hyperventilated.

She did the last nice thing she ever did to me. She was so worried about my mental health that she told me to call my mom and tell her I was having anxiety attacks and needed some help. I think she did this out of guilt for me and someone else she had hurt. She told me a story about another guy she had dated. This guy took a bunch of pills one night and killed himself in the bathroom of his home. His mom called her the next day to tell her what happened. To this day I don't know if that story was true, or just a fearful prophetic vision she wanted to avoid me fulfilling. I completely ignored the cheating and just latched onto that lone act of kindness since they had been so rare. I tried to talk myself down and pretend I forgave her and loved her.

After that it was weeks of uneasy normalcy. She stopped asking for sex and nudes. She talked to me a little less. One day I overheard her tell a story to one of her friends about how she lost her virginity at a party when she was 14... To a 25 year old. She told the story with pride like it was a fun romp, and not something disgusting and wrong. I understand now why she struggled with the concept of consent. She was a victim too, but didn't even know it. Or maybe just didn't care anymore.

The second time we hung out outside of school was a fashion show she was a part of at school for some art class. Her and her friend (the one who tried to pull my shirt off) drove me to school. They bragged to each other about guys they had slept with and which ones had the biggest dicks. She knew I could hear them. I think she wanted to spite me with it. Or worse, she just didn't care about me being able to hear it. The show was stressful. Behind the stage I saw her put on her dress while acting cold. Wanting nothing to do with me. After the show we all went to the store. I bought her flowers to help her mood change, but she acted annoyed. She said she didn't have anywhere to put them. They dropped me off at home. Even though she was the one being cruel and spiteful, I was still the one who apologized to her. Like always. I thought about killing myself that night.

Instead I started working on this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t-ypqagJNXY&feature=youtu.be

I showed it to her after it was done some time later. She said it was too nerdy and didn't watch past the first 30 seconds.

Days after the fashion show, she told me she just didn't feel like she was in a good place to be in a relationship. That she needed time to be single again, but she still loved me. I started sitting further away from her in class. I finally got to be around my friends again. I think I was more quiet at school than I was even before her.

She started posting pictures of herself and some girl holding hands on Facebook. I asked her why she lied about not being ready for a relationship. She just wanted to finally officially date this girl she had been cheating on me with for a few weeks (since apparently Patrick couldn't quite "measure up") I told her I didn't want to see her again. She begged me not to go and said she had gotten so used to me being in her life. I was her longest relationship by that point. As usual, I conceded and just forgave her. She and this other girl broke up maybe a week later. We then spent these awkward few weeks doing finals and avoiding eye contact. She told me one day she was transferring schools. Maybe because she was too guilty to stay and see me every day. Knowing what she did to me. Maybe she realized how fucked her reputation was at that school because none of her old friends talked to her anymore. Maybe she just wanted to get out and find a new hunting ground since guys here knew she was bad news. Maybe she wanted to transfer to help her chances of graduating because she had bad grades in every class except the one with a teacher who wanted to fuck her (And might have, I don't know. He was like 25, seemed really annoyed seeing me with her, ate lunch alone with her some days, and gave her A+ grades on assignments she didn't turn in) The last day of school came around and I knew it would probably be the last time I saw her in person. She was wearing one of my old jackets she had taken. A Batman hoodie that was too big for me, so it looked like a trench coat on her skinny body. I heard the bell ring and we both stood up. And I stared at her. I couldn't think of anything to say. So I just hugged her. And then I walked away. I never saw that hoodie again.

For a few months I was alone again. Burying the trauma and heartache. I was so disgusted by my own body I stopped looking at myself in the mirror. Stopped looking down while taking a shower. Some days I would just lay on the floor in the bathroom feeling this empty hole in my chest grow bigger. I never lied to myself and pretended it was all because I missed her. I felt relieved to be away from her. But I felt worthless and unloved.

Comic Con came again that summer. I was having fun. I was happy. I was finally starting to get back to normal. Then she messaged me... Told me she was there too. Asked me to come meet her. I was in a Deadpool costume having fun with my friend Jackson, who I made a Rorschach cosplay for since Watchmen was his favorite comic. I didn't want her to ruin it. So I gave her bad directions so she couldn't find me. I was eager to get to the hotel and change out of the costume so it would be harder for her to spot me.

Later we went to the hotel and she texted me, saying she was sorry for how things went and that that she missed me. She asked if we could try again. The thing about abusive relationships, is that even when you don't want to, even when it hurts you, you give the other person what they want. It's like being hypnotized. You just can't see them sad. Even if deep down you hate them. Even if you wish they'd die, you just say yes to them. It doesn’t make sense until you live through it yourself. Remember that next time you judge someone for giving in to someone who hurts them repeatedly. They can’t help it.

When we were dating the first time, she never went inside my house. She always had an excuse for why she had to skip dinner and meeting my family. I cleaned my whole house top to bottom 4 times because she promised to visit me 4 times. It took me a whole day each time. The 5th time I didn't do anything. I left my room a mess because I knew any minute I'd get that text saying "sorry I can't make it..." I knew that would happen again. A few days after comic con, I asked her if we could meet up. I was tired of being in a long distance relationship with someone who lived 20 minutes away. I told her to come to my cousin's graduation party.she swore she could make it. Then she didn't. And i told her I was tired of being let down. I wanted to just stay friends. She said she missed the party because a fight with her mom and she refused to just be friends with "someone she was still in love with" She told me she was in love with me. After everything that had happened. Everything she had done.

Time goes by. She texts me out of the blue again. She's now started dating another guy, and they're having problems. He wants to have sex in the first few weeks and she's stonewalling him. She says she's reevaluating why her relationships keep falling. Why they only last 3 weeks maximum. And she remembers we dated on and off for close to 7 months. Something was different about me. She says it was because I was the only one who never pressured her or asked. I keep my distance and wish her well. By that point I was too busy working on Spider-Man retrospective part 3. Sometimes it’s hard playing Web of Shadows now because I associate certain parts of the game with pausing to text her and what she was saying at the time.

More time passes. More failed relationships. She keeps failing to hook anyone. She talks to me again. Says she missed me. She's in a new relationship with a new guy ALSO named Xavier. I don’t even know how to interpret that. She keeps acting like she can't stand him and I was “the one that got away.” She very much wants to rekindle things with me once again. She asks me to meet up for my birthday that was coming soon on July 4th. In the same stupid subservient trance, I say yes. I know she won't be there.

The night we were supposed to meet, she says she got too busy and we'll try again some other time. Then on Facebook she posts a picture of her and the other Xavier kissing with fireworks in the background. I connect the dots that she only talked to me when she was mad at him. I was the new Patrick.

I write her a text. A long, angry, paragraph of hate for her behavior towards me. Her friends text me the next day asking "what did you say to her? She's been crying all day. You're such an asshole." Her boyfriend texts me. He asks what's going on, so i tell him "I know you're trying to defend her honor but she made plans to cheat on you with me. She's not good for you. She'll just hurt you." He tells me to go fuck myself. Makes a joke about me being a ginger. Clearly what i said bothered him. They break up shortly after.

In that long message to her, I never once brought up the sexual abuse. I still hadn't even accepted it happened. I just ignored it and yelled at her for everything else. A few bad relationships happen over the next 2 years. One with a girl I didn’t have feelings for, but I felt safe with because she was too afraid to even mention sex. The other with another girl that was just as verbally abusive and emotionally distant as the first one. These are just more weights on me.

Then i met Anna. This was when my life changed. I fell in love with Anna almost immediately after we started talking. I had dated other girls after the first one, but I was never this... at peace. I never felt like they understood me or cared for me like Anna did. She was different. She had also been abused by her exes, but in different ways. One day while dating Anna, I start breaking down crying. I tell her everything that happened to me. I cry for maybe 5 straight hours. Anna cried with me. Both over what happened to me and her own traumas. She promises she'll never force me or hurt me. But now Anna realizes why we had been dating for weeks and I never brought up sex. Why I just completely avoided it. After that night we started getting more intimate. She wanted me to feel safe so she eased me through it. It started to feel fun to send pictures or flirt. She taught me how to do everything step by step. She was amazing. In the time since writing this initial post I’ve visited Anna in the Philippines. Being with her physically was freeing and felt different from everything I experienced before. I always felt safe with her and never afraid when we were intimate in person. I know she’s the girl for me, and we plan to get married later this year.

I wrote the first girl one last message. Saying goodbye. I talked about the sexual abuse. How it made me feel. How it ruined me. How it gave me nightmares. I told her I wanted to make peace and move on And let go of the hate. She laughed at me and insulted Anna. And that was the last time I ever talked to her.

I still have nightmares about her. Trying my hardest to forgive her. My natural defense mechanism of just being her pet. I keep dreaming of meeting her and trying my hardest to be nice, even though I'm so afraid I'm shaking. A year after we stopped dating I had a dream about marrying her and being terrified. I have dreams have her touching me again and I wake up. Some days the first thing I say when I open my eyes is a panicked "don't touch me." I developed a twitch in my neck from her. When people touch me unexpectedly, or when I'm stressed, or when the weather gets cold and the snow reminds me of that day. Just recently I woke up covered in sweat and hyperventilating just because I heard a voice in my sleep saying “we need to talk about__________” and saying her name. That’s all it takes sometimes apparently. Just hearing her name.

I still have a hard time with physical contact. I push people off if the hug me for too long. I feel my skin crawl when I think of her. I get these panic attacks where I feel her cold hands again. It feels like they're inside me. Feeling my skin from inside. Squeezing my ribs and lungs. It feels like there are ants on on my body and I want to claw out of my skin. Just tear it all off.

I hate how I owe all my current life to her. She made me so depressed and sad that I spent nights awake writing my novel. I wrote whenever I was sad, and she made me finish all 250 pages of it. When I ran out of book to write, I made that YouTube video. I was considering suicide every day and i made part 1 of the Spider-Man Games Retrospective to distract myself from thoughts of self harm. I think it makes sense in retrospect. There's jokes about self harm in there. An overly shocking joke about how awful it is to think Spider-Man wasn't there to stop someone from being raped because he was too busy catching balloons. I guess at the time I was angry no one tried to save me. Feeling like all the role models in my life were just out catching balloons.

If she hadn't made me that fucking depressed, I never would have made these videos. I wouldn't have the success of the channel. I wouldn't have met the scores of friends I have now. I wouldn't have Anna.

Everything good I have in life now is because of the awful thing she did. And it all feels a little tainted by that fact sometimes.

I've never really written it all out like this in this amount of detail before. It feels good to just lay it all out. But at the same time it makes me feel sick. I do think things have gotten better. With the help of a loving and amazing fiancee, and more friends than I think I deserve-- it’s gotten better. The nightmares are less frequent. I can handle being with someone now, and I want to be with Anna for the rest of my life. For whoever you are, if you know what it’s like to deal with this, and you’re afraid that people will judge you... I promise you that you’re valid and people will care and accept you. It does get better. Being open and trusting about what happened makes it easier, because you no longer have to deal with it alone.

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ladywolfmd · 6 years ago

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carpe diem, the night is young and so are we

7:02pm: Sansa sips slowly from her glass of fresh lemon-strawberry slush while slowly nodding..and generally just trying to make some effort to look polite while her blind date - Harry Hardying, was trying to (and with great enthusiasm) chat her ear off with his many wins, being, as she discovered, as a decorated fencer from the Vale and then some. She can’t really remember because somewhere in the middle, she started zoning if she was being honest. It turns out though, that she has been using the same tactic for the course of the half-hour run of their date at Meraxes and Queen beside the Dragonpit up in Rhaenys' Hill, in between replying polite 'hmms' and 'ohs'. She would pick at her food, and give warm smiles in between, but in her mind she'd already decided that, great smile and stellar achievements not-withstanding, there would be no second date. He was nice. He was handsome. She decided. Yet she felt more a head hunter being talked to, the way he listed his qualities like a curriculum vitae. She then starts regretting that maybe she should've ordered something with alcohol to get through this but decided that she'd fare better with a clear head.

8:50pm: After a very hasty good-bye to her date (it literally dragged too long as she thought anyway), she took a ride down to Smallfolks, one of the outdoor drinking hubs that occupied the night food strip, stretching along the Street of the Sisters, getting stuck a bit in traffic. Once she got off the taxi, she was immediately greeted with jeers and cheers from her friends, Mya Stone, Myranda Royce, Marillion Flowers, and the siblings, Beth and Jory Cassel, as they raise their bottles of cheap beer and different meat-on-sticks. She waves them off with a playful roll of her eyes and takes the offered bottle and sits down, telling them of her lackluster date and how she would never trust them to set her up again. While her friends, who by the looks of it, had been here for a while now were busy rambling about everything, she swirled her bottle, nodding away like earlier while she half-listened, finding the other people coming in and out of the busy street against the neon lights more interesting.

10:45pm: She was only on her second bottle, resolved not to get drunk tonight though tomorrow she was still off duty. Not too long after she thought that when she smirked as she received a group text from her co-workers at Visenya Hill Hospital, with the invite to Alchemy, the new themed music pub. Excusing herself from her merry friends promising to come back, she started walking the short distance to Alchemy, weaving in and out of the people on the busy street expertly only to be almost tackled to the ground by no other than Dr. Rhaenys Targaryen and a smirking Dr. Arianne Martell. She laughed and relaxed as she was lead to a private booth with the best view of the band of the night. Ska. She thought as she heard the music. They were treated to cyber-electro-Ska tonight and green Absinthe housed in test tube shooters, Wildfire, as it was infamously named - the former by the two-man band Dunk & Egg, the latter, from no other than her fellow Neurosurgeon, Dr. Jamie Lannister. Despite feigning obliviousness to the doctor's flirting, Sansa was having a great time relaxing to the music and enjoying being with her visibly relaxed and loose-for-a-change friends when she suddenly bolted out the door after hurried excuses.

12:06pm: Sansa ran into the nearest 24-hour store, calming herself by the frozen goods at the back as she recalls seeing her ex, Joffrey Baratheon walk in Alchemy arm-in-arm with Margaery Tyrell. How dare he, she thinks furiously. She shakes her head and thinks instead, how dare she? She calms down as she receives a text from Rhaenys telling her "Oh" and then suggests she find Mya and the others or go home. Unless she wants Jamie to come get her? Or one of them? She sighs and shakes her head as she replies that she's walking back to Smallfolks. She gets the smallest slushie to go, her eyes still puffy with some frustrated tears that came out and paid without issue. The cashier has likely been there too long tonight to care enough to ask how she was.

12:10pm: Halfway she gets a call from her brother Robb asking where she was and if she's seen their sister Arya's posts on instagram. She tells him she'll check with Arya first then call him back. Once she fires up her instagram, it's flooded with Arya with Gendry and Hot Pie, tearing holes in Fleabottom's scene, one ig-story after another-- #NotToday. After calling Arya, promising to get Robb off her back, she calls Robb telling him that they'll both be fine and would call in the morning then ending by guilting him about his own time in King's Landing before the "Age of Jeyne Westerling."

12:23pm: Sansa arrives in Smallfolks only to find out that her friends already left. She finds out that they are in Cobbler's at Cobbler's Square where they asked if she'd follow. She replies with a maybe, not really wanting to take the slightly long trip there but still wanting to go somewhere distracting. Her phone is on fire tonight, she thought when she received another invite but frowned when Harry's name lit up her phone, telling her that he was at The Mockingbird Bar and asked if she'd let him buy drinks for her. She types furiously a "no way in seven hells", knowing that The Mockingbird had a bar and a "boutique hotel" adjacent to it that was a fancy way of saying bordello. Almost giving up the night or stay mingling with the street walkers - anything, she sees a familiar face. Black curls in a man bun, grey eyes behind metal frames, was Rhaenys' younger half-brother, Jon Targaryen, now Jon Snow, who everyone called the Crow doctor in the North. He sees her first and shyly smiles at her when he approached, asking why she was alone and if she's hungry.

1:03am: Sansa is on her second bowl - or more precisely, Jon's (she makes them swap after tasting his and he lets her easily while ordering another bowl of the same for him - he doesn't like the Sea Men Seafood Surprise she ordered) of Crazy Chasu Pork ramen in Weird Essos Noodle House, situated in a corner of Eel Street. Jon laughs as Sansa still manages to daintily slurp but she somehow feels comfortable with him as she listens (this time with actual interest) about how he had his own disastrous evening. Sansa teases him about changing his name and he said it was appropriate as he did self-exile himself to one of the veterans hospital at the Wall, far far from King's Landing. They talk about how she's adjusting to being on her first year as a full fledged surgeon in Visenya Hill, as well as how he was also still struggling but happy in Eastwatch-by-the-sea as one of their Trauma Surgeons. She asks him why he never talked to her when he used to visit Robb. He tells her, flushing while rubbing the back of his neck, that he never got the impression that she wanted him to talk to her. And they lapse in a tense silence, finishing their food and avoiding glances.

2:15am: While they both were waiting for their own Uber, Sansa, suddenly confessed that she thought he didn't want to talk to her. "What?" Jon blurts out incredulously, blushing curiously and then Sansa remembers that she was a bit of a prissy brat back in the days, before her brother Bran's accident and thinks that maybe this miscommunication was more her fault. Feeling bad she asks him if he wants to go to The Hook to dance their unfortunate night away. After saying that he actually was more of a Fleabottom hidden pub guy, he agrees to come happily anyway and both cancel their rides to book a new shared one. And to Sansa's surprise as they dance goofily away, she starts to think that Jon was starting to look cute but shrugs it off, thinking, it's only because he's the single most genuinely nice guy of the night.

4:35am: They decided to share an Uber to Street of Steel to get to Recovery the 24-hour breakfast place for night owls with hopes to refuel from their awkward yet fun dancing - with mostly Sansa drawing out Jon from his shy shell and Jon, despite being out of his element, letting her get away with everything. On the ride to greasy eggs and bacon, Jon notices Sansa growing silent. He points it out and she just smiles at him brightly in answer, showing him that she's happy with the way the night turned out despite the lousy date and the lousier run-in with her bastard ex. She doesn't notice Jon trying to hide his blush and looking at her weirdly as she turned to look back out the windows. They finish their breakfast in comfortable silence. And for the first time this night-no-morning, she was sad that it was drawing to an end. So before they left, Sansa was surprised when Jon said, "If only it wasn't cold. It might be nice to walk around the Blackwater Rush." Sansa looked down where they can faintly see the bay from where they are and looked at it longingly. It would be nice to walk there. Nicer if she was with Jon. She remembered that night at the Regency in Casterly when she and Jon watched the docks to the Sunset sea and wonders if he remembers. That night meant so much to her and she felt bad that she never followed up with Jon. But he didn't either so maybe he was just being his usual nice Jon self. She also didn't know that as she was looking at the bay, Jon was looking at her instead.

5:15am: Jon walks Sansa to her apartment despite her protests. Once at her door, they stare down the floor awkwardly. Sansa braves looking up and grinning at him and tells him sheepishly "We should've just tried to talk before. Forgive me for being a priss back then." Jon grins back and it's the first time she sees that rare smile trained on her, all crinkly and lopsided and warm. "There's nothing to forgive. I was a judgmental coward too," he replied with a shrug. She beams and blushes. "Crazy night right?" Jon laughs and shakes his head, his hand finding its way to his neck again. "It was certainly interesting." They laugh for a moment, share a look before being interrupted by the alarm she forgot she set up blaring from inside her apartment. She huffed a sigh before apologizing. Jon shakes his head and motions for her to go inside, saying he should probably go as he was going back to Eastwatch in a few hours. "I'm glad I ran into you" she gives him an awkward hug after they couldn't figure out if they shook hands or kissed cheeks or something before settling. "Me too." Sansa opens her door before looking back and calls out to Jon. Jon stops walking and looks back at her. She doesn't really know what to say but she wants to say something. So she settles for "Take care of yourself there Jon." Jon looks like he wants to say something more but decides the same with Sansa. "You too, Sansa. Be safe." They part happy, knowing that their night could not have gone the way it had if they didn't run into each other. But then come the next day, Sansa and Jon went back to their respective work, going through surgeries and patients and then some, the night becoming just another memory - fond as it was - as life went on.

It would be three years later when they would meet again by chance and once more on another eventful night but this time, on Jon's territory where they, like this night, explore more than the harsh beauty of their new city at the North, but more importantly, each other.

#repost #jonsa #jon snow x sansa stark #doctors au #modern au #vignette #because i'm too sad to work #doctor on leave

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cheeseeatingtrashmonster · 6 years ago

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Forces

LadyNoir July day 31: Promise/Sunrise. Thank you for organizing this, @lovesquare-squad! It was a great month, and I loved seeing everyone else’s submissions. So here’s the last piece!

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Read the whole month on AO3

Emilie Agreste was alive and well. Gabriel and Adrien Agreste were rushed to her side. Rumor had it, Adrien had been living with his former bodyguard and had limited contact with Gabriel. They were accompanied by Adrien's girlfriend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a budding designer. Emilie was found by Nathalie Sancoeur, Gabriel's former assistant, when Emilie escaped her kidnappers. She was being treated at a hospital in Argentina.

This was the story released to the public.

Emilie was alive and well. Gabriel, Adrien, the Gorilla, and Marinette went to meet her, Nathalie, and the Greylings. She was being treated in a hospital in Argentina. Emilie had not escaped her kidnappers, exactly.

"Emilie." Gabriel fell to his knees at her bedside, tears streaming down his face. "I tried so hard to find you," he said.

"I heard," she said, laying a hand on his head. "Nathalie told me everything you did."

Gabriel collapsed.

"Father?" Adrien started to panic. He couldn't get one parent back just to lose the other.

"He'll be fine," Emilie said. "A little trick I learned. It looks like someone else modified his memory before. A crude job, like using an ax to perform surgery. But no matter. When he wakes, he'll have no memory of being Hawkmoth, and he'll be incapable of discovering it again."

"Mom?"

"I learned a lot while I was away, dear."

/*****/

Gabriel was admitted through the emergency department and the Gorilla agreed to stay with him so Adrien could be with his mother.

"Tell me about everything I missed, dear," she said, holding out her hands and pulling Adrien to sit next to her on the bed when he came close enough for her to reach. "And introduce me to your friend here."

"This is Marinette, my girlfriend." He wasn't sure what else to say.

"Wonderful to meet you, Marinette," she said. "There's not a lot of room, but come sit with us."

Adrien kept trying to ask his mother where she had been, what had happened. She kept brushing him off and begging for more information about him and his life.

"Mom," Adrien said after showing her pictures of Alya and Nino, "I'm trying to be patient, I'm trying not to worry but I need to know something, anything, about what happened. Are you scared? Is that why you won't tell me?"

"Oh, no dear," she said. "There isn't much I fear. It's just a lot of nonsense that you don't need to worry about. I was gone, but now I'm back, and I love you so much." She pulled him into a hug, and he noted she was strong, much stronger than he expected for someone who had to be airlifted to a hospital.

A doctor came by and kicked them out a few minutes later, and they made their way to find the Gorilla and Gabriel. Nathalie was pacing the hall outside Gabriel's room.

"He just finished yelling at me," she said. "I didn't miss that. You'd think he'd be at least a little grateful, but I left him without a replacement when I 'disappeared'."

"Can you tell us more about finding her?" Adrien asked.

"First can you tell me what happened to your father? I step away to get coffee and come back to this?"

Marinette recounted Emilie's actions. "Could that really be possible? Or should we be worried she's..." Marinette searched her mind for the name of the correct mental health symptom to cover such a break from reality.

"I found her sitting in a little ice cave without a jacket in Antarctica," Nathalie said. "I wouldn't have believe it had Felix not been there, too."

"Are you telling them?" Bridgette was tugging Felix along behind her, rounding the corner towards the group. "Adrien, your mom's crazy powerful. The peacock can sense magic, did you know that?"

"What is going on?" Adrien asked.

"I have a theory," Nathalie said. "But let's go somewhere else to discuss it."

Nathalie, Felix, Bridgette, Marinette, and Adrien found their way to the cafeteria. Felix sulked over a cup of coffee from which Bridgette stole sips. Marinette was struck again with the sight of the two of them.

"You were more than eager to tell me your theory six or seven times on the way back from that frozen wasteland," Felix grumbled when Nathalie sat staring at her coffee cup in silence for a minute too long.

"I've known Emilie a very long time," Nathalie said. "She's always been magically powerful. She never had much interest in it, but she had the inborn talent. She wasn't very good because she didn't care and didn't practice, but she had potential."

"That's why you said it was in my blood?" Adrien asked.

Nathalie nodded. "She's had trouble in the past with groups and individuals approaching her to work for them as an amateur magician, even without training. My theory is that one group didn't take 'no' for an answer."

"Dear Nathalie, why didn't you ask me?"

Emilie sat at the table with them, clad in a hospital gown covered by a robe and still looking more regal than anyone in the building.

"Obviously you're going to worry anyway so I might as well tell you what happened.” Emilie said to Adrien. She paused. ”You didn’t worry like this before.” She smiled sadly, shook her head, then looked at the two couples. “You four are all miraculous holders, yes?"

"You know about the miraculous?" Adrien asked. "I mean, you mentioned Hawkmoth-"

"I've followed the news as best I could while I was gone. I'd know my son anywhere," Emilie said, lifting Adrien's hand and looking pointedly at his miraculous, "and he's dating such a nice young lady," she brushed Marinette's hair behind her ear with a glance at her earring. "And you two fit the descriptions of the new heroes in Germany. In fact, I think one of them shares a name with you, Greyling."

Bridgette, Marinette, and Adrien froze. Felix rolled his eyes.

"Get to the point. I'm still not warm from dragging you out of your little ice hut."

"Nathalie is mostly right. A group decided they needed my magical power. But I wouldn't call them anything so ordinary as magicians. No, they were... Forces."

Marinette looked around the table. Was she supposed to know what that meant?

"Anyway," Emilie said, brushing her hair back, "I was taken against my will, and never became powerful enough to escape on my own, but they were training me. I gained magical power that makes the miraculouses look like toys."

"I mean... yoyo, fan, trompo..." Bridgette said with a shrug.

"If Gabriel had succeeded and made his wish, nothing would have happened," she said. "The combined power of creation and destruction cannot rival the Forces."

"That's not true," Plagg grumbled from Adrien's shirt. "They'll tell you that, but last time we met, Tikki and I sent them running."

"You fought the lesser Forces, Plagg," Emilie said. "You know there are more than those you faced."

Plagg said nothing.

"Anyway, I guess when they saw that Nathalie here wasn't going to stop looking, they decided my training was complete enough." Emilie's hand fell on Nathalie's where it rested next to her coffee cup on the table. "Soon the real work begins."

On that cryptic note, Emilie bid the table goodbye and went to get food.

"Was she always like this?" Felix asked.

"Felix! You can't ask things like that!" Bridgette smacked his arm.

"She's always been calm like that," Adrien said slowly, "but I don't... The rest is new."

"I have to agree," Nathalie said. "She's different, but she's still Emilie."

/*****/

Bridgette and Felix headed home that afternoon. The Agrestes and company went home the following day when Emilie was discharged. Adrien felt more overwhelmed than he had thought possible.

"Where am I going to live?" Adrien whispered to Marinette when he snuck into her hotel room the night before they left. "Is she really okay? What is Nathalie's plan now? Do you think mom'll let me keep being Chat Noir?"

"Kitty," Marinette said, kissing his nose, "we'll be alright. If nothing else, we know your mom can take care of herself. And Nathalie will sort herself out in time. As for your father, we've kept him in line all this time, I don't think we need to worry any more than normal about him. We'll handle each thing as it comes."

The flight home was quiet until Gabriel decided all hell needed to break loose.

"Adrien, you will be moving back to the mansion and returning to the rules and activities we set forth. We will get you a new bodyguard. And you will have to be more responsible about your time spent with Miss Dupain-Cheng."

"He's not living at the mansion? Adrien, where have you been living?" Emilie asked.

"I've been with the Gorilla. He has custody of me," Adrien said.

"Oh, after..." Emilie shifted so Gabriel couldn't see and made a butterfly sign with her hands. "I suppose that makes sense. Nathalie, why didn't you take him in? Aren't you listed as his guardian if something goes wrong?"

"Nathalie was part of... that," Adrien said.

Emilie went silent. Her disappointment filled the jet like smoke.

"Were you?" Emilie asked.

"For you, yes," Nathalie said, not backing down.

Emilie looked on the verge of tears. "Well then." She turned to Gabriel. "Let's let him stay where he is until things settle down. We only want what's best for him, right?"

Gabriel and Emilie fought the rest of the ride home. Adrien found that escaping to the farthest chair from them and blasting music on his headphones did little to calm his shaking.

This was not what he had hoped for.

/*****/

Adrien was more grateful for the Gorilla with each passing day. Every visit he paid to his parents resulted in the two of them fighting. The staff he spoke to in the mansion said it wasn't just when he was here, they fought all the time. So a month later when Emilie asked for a divorce, no one was surprised.

"It's not just him," Emilie said over lunch with Adrien, Marinette, and the Gorilla. "I told you the real work starts soon. I have to help keep some of the Forces in check. It takes a human to look out for humans. Well, of course you know that," she said, reaching over to squeeze Adrien's hand. "Just look at all you and your team do." She reached for Marinette's hand with her free one. "With a leader like you? How could your team not?"

There still had been no explanation of what or who these forces were.

Two months later, paperwork finished and things packed away, Emilie came to say goodbye.

"You need to know that you don't need to worry about your father any more," Emilie said. "I'll be keeping an eye on him. He is not your responsibility. I can handle him, and you shouldn't have had to anyway."

"I don't mind," Adrien said. "It feels like I can do a little to make up for all he did by making sure he never does anything like that again."

"No," she said, taking a firm grip of his shoulders. "You be a kid for a little while. I've got this."

"Really?"

"Really." She sighed, cupping his face. "I missed you so much while I was gone, and I'll miss you while I'm working. I'll visit every holiday that I can, and some weekends, too. And you can always reach me, my phone will never leave my side."

Adrien hugged her, holding tight. This time he knew she was leaving before she went. This time he had a way to talk to her while she was gone. It wasn't the same. But it felt like it, just a little.

/*****/

Ten Years Later

"Fancy seeing you here."

The thump of boots was something Ladybug could identify in her sleep. She had, in fact. Carapace, Rena, and Chat had a competition to see which of them Ladybug could recognize from a dead sleep by the sound of them landing on a roof behind her. She got Chat right every time.

"Sit," Ladybug said, patting the shingles next to her. "I've been waiting for you."

"To think, after all this time, My Lady waits for me, expects and hopes for me to show up, as if a meager alley cat could brighten her day."

"Sit!" she said, reaching up to tug at his wrist. He sat and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Hi," he said, leaning over to kiss her. "How was your day?"

"Bridgette is more stressful than her kids," she said, leaning on him hard. "I can't believe she's pregnant, in the middle of her second adoption, and still running circles around me."

"I still can't believe grouchy Felix is going to have four kids."

"Oh, if you think they're stopping there, you're vastly underestimating their desire for children."

“And you two worked out the details of your new joint boutique?”

“Yes, lots of boring paperwork.”

"But the Greyling clan was fun?"

"They were," she said. "How's Nino?"

"He needs to stop experimenting with stuff from the Grimoire unsupervised," Chat grumbled. "Only minor burns this time, but his left hand turned half purple, so that was interesting to explain to the doctor."

"Well, he always has you to look out for him."

"And answer his panicked calls asking for another ride to the hospital, like I'm not busy educating the next generation."

Ladybug hummed in agreement, leaning harder against Chat until she pushed him over on his back. She laid next to him, resting her folded hands on his chest and her chin on her hands.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi yourself."

"How's it going?"

"I had a question for you, if you don't mind."

"Anything, love."

"Hold on," she said, fumbling with the pocket of her suit. "Ha, got it." She held up a silver band, light reflecting off it in the setting sunlight. "Will you marry me?"

Chat laughed. He grabbed her in his arms and pulled her to his chest, rolling them over so she was beneath him and attacking her face with kisses.

"Of course," he said. "I'd like nothing more."

They lay there, on a random roof, giggling and kissing and exchanging "I love you"s until darkness had fully settled and Ladybug's yoyo started ringing.

"Hey!" Rena said, "can you two get your butts over to the park near the bakery? There's something going on, and I'd prefer a little help."

"Be there in five," Ladybug said.

They landed in the park and were met with the other three heroes.

"There's nothing here," Chat said. "You interrupted a lovely evening for nothing."

"Okay, whatever it was, it shifted to the old middle school," Carapace said. "I think we should detransform, go in as civilians first. They looked easily spooked, and I don't want innocents getting hit because of us."

"Fine," Ladybug said, dropping her transformation. "Lead the way."

"Surprise!"

Family and friends had gathered. A banner said, "Engaged!" in giant painted letters that could only be Nathaniel's handiwork. A cake bore their names, clearly Tom's work. Bridgette, Felix, and their three children were there, and Felix even cracked a smile in honor of the occasion. All their classmates from “the akumatization year” were grinning and cheering. The Gorilla and his son and his son's family (most of them just as big as the Gorilla) were putting the finishing touches on the food table. Almost everyone was there, and it was perfect.

"It's been an hour!" Marinette said, throwing her arms in the air. "How?"

"I'm friends with the jeweler who sold you that ring," Chloe said, nodding to Adrien's hand.

"And I saw you put the ring in your pocket when you were leaving tonight," Bridgette said.

"Plus you two are super predictable," Alya said, kissing Marinette's cheek. "So enjoy your surprise engagement party!"

"What if I'd said no?" Adrien asked.

Everyone laughed.

The night only got better when Adrien called for everyone's attention a few minutes later.

"So it turns out, everyone was expecting us to get engaged," Adrien started. "And apparently more than a few of you expected Marinette to be the one to ask." The mutters and laughter agreed with him. "But what none of you know, not even my dear Nino, is that I have been carrying this around for eight years." He pulled a ring out of his pocket and went down on one knee in front of Marinette. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng, you asked me to marry you tonight. Now I'm asking you the same. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

"Eight years?"

"It would have been even longer, but it took me a year and a half to decide on a ring."

"Get up here and kiss me," Marinette said.

They were just finishing cutting the cake when Emilie tried to slip into the room without being noticed.

"Mom!" Adrien said. "I thought you were on your way out of town!"

"I was until I heard about this," she said, kissing his cheek and then moving to hug Marinette. "Congratulations, you two. You were meant for each other."

"Thanks, Mom." He looked around. "Did Nathalie come with you?"

"No, she's at home, there are some things to be taken care of, but she sends her love." She looked around for a moment before lowering her voice. "Actually, I know it's not great timing, but I do need to speak to you two tonight. The Forces are gathering. Nathalie and I won't be able to hold them off much longer. It's a good thing you five have been training with your miraculouses for so long because we'll need every strong fighter and magic user we can get."

"Are you finally going to tell us what 'the Forces' are?" Marinette asked, skeptical.

"All that and more," Emilie said with a glint in her eye. She kissed them both on the cheek again and stepped away.

"Nothing stays quiet for long, huh, Bug?" Adrien asked, reaching for Marinette's hand.

"I'm happy so long as I have you," she said. She glanced around the room, at all their happy friends and family. "In fact, what do you say we sneak out for a quick patrol? Just of the neighborhood, nothing too far."

"I'd love to, My Lady," he said, bringing her hand with her new engagement ring up to his lips to kiss. "Everything's better with you."

#LoveLadyNoir #miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #emilie agreste #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #pretty much everyone else #my writing #events #patrol is better with you #it's done!#what did you think?#yes emilie and nathalie are together now #just didn't have room to work that in #it's not their story anyway lol

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destiny-islanders · 7 years ago

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You (Comrades Protag) + The Chocobros | Part II - Prompto

Part I - Gladio |

STRAP IN, FOLKS! I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS ONE. YOU AND PROMPTO ARE ABOUT TO GO ON AN ADVENTURE.

So after you eat Gladio’s I’m-Sorry-I-Gave-You-A-Concussion Cup Noodles, he gives you his phone number, just in case you figure out how to unlock your phone.

He knows that you’re a pretty big deal in Lestallum; people recognize you and know that you’re busting your ass to help keep the city safe. He asks you to keep him posted on Lestallum’s progress via Iris.

You and Iris become pretty good friends. And you take pictures of everything.

Pictures capturing the progress of construction projects around Lestallum

Pictures of your handwritten notes from your meetings with the elected leader of Lestallum, Holly, Cor, Libertus, Dave, and a handful of other key players in the power restoration efforts.

You even send him a photo of you and Iris posing in sweaters you knitted for each other by hand

Yes, you know how to knit now. When night falls, and the people of Lestallum are forced to hide within the safety of the city’s walls, they’re left restless, anxious, and with way too much time on their hands-- time to learn how to actually play a game of chess, time to learn how to play every single card game known to man, and time to hear just about everyone’s stories of loss and faint, fragile hope for a brighter future.

One day, Gladio texts Iris to let you know that a friend of his will be swinging through Lestallum soon, and that he might track you down for some combat practice.

Iris seems excited to see this friend of her brother’s. She says his name is Prompto and that you’re going to love him.

The name doesn’t ring a bell, and you have no idea what he looks like. You guess you’ll recognize him when he taps you on the shoulder and asks if it would be okay to beat you up behind the power plant.

Prompto shows up while Cid is tinkering with your favorite weapon, imbuing it with the power of that griffon feather you and your friends found yesterday. You take it from Cid and give it a few practice swings, testing out its weight, admiring its shine in the light.

Prompto: “Yikes. Hope you don’t end up hitting me with that thing lmao”

Turns out that, just like Gladio, you’ve seen this guy before. He’s another one of the prince’s royal retainers. He was a last-minute addition, with next to no formal training. But you guess he must at least have some kind of raw talent, to have survived this long as a hunter.

The extent of your former interactions with Prompto: You were collecting herbal ingredients in Duscae for a medicinal remedy that a sickly friend of yours desperately needed. You’d just about gathered everything you needed when you heard screaming from across the lake. You glanced in the direction of the noise and saw a cotoblepas charging towards two tiny figures standing way too damned close to the water.

You: “SHIT SHIT SHIT”

It’s a good thing you didn’t spare a second to think this through, because you would have realized how stupid you were being if you had. Instead of trying to warp around the lake, you decided to warp straight across it. Your intentions were noble; you wanted to help these people as quickly as you could.

But yes you fell into the water and approximately twenty-seven (27) gallons of it shot up your nose. But you chucked your weapon into the air and kept going

You barreled into one of the people fleeing the cotoblepas and warped, putting as much distance as you could between yourselves and the beast. You put a hand on the person’s shoulder, shouted, “Stay!” and got ready to warp back for the other.

Turned out you didn’t have to bother; the other idiot could warp, too.

You: “...Prince Noctis?”

YEP! Prompto knew that you were a Glaive and was waaaaaay too intimidated by you to lie. He explained that they essentially Did It For The Vine.

Did the key to the salvation of Eos almost get himself trampled by a cotoblepas for a photo?????

Prompto showed you the photo.

You: “Okay that’s actually pretty sick, bro”

Noctis: “Hell yeah”

You: “Oh shit my fucking weeds”

Prompto: “Your what now”

Prompto and Noctis understandably felt guilty when they realized that the herbs you had worked so hard to collect for your friend were soaked, dirtied, and ruined because you fell into the lake. They helped you collect more before you parted ways.

Prompto: “So... Gladio said you might be down for some sparring?”

You lead him to the Lestallum equivalent of the bicycle rack: the same quiet corner where Gladio had brooded in a constant state of exhaustion.

No one cleaned up the crates you broke with your body in the back of the alleyway...

Prompto: “Go easy on me, ‘kay?”

This guy is smaller and more noodly than Gladio. You hope that means you actually stand a chance this time.

Nope. Wrong. Bitch you thought. You don’t. One second you’re standing there, getting ready to fight, the next, you’re frozen in place and unable to do anything but watch as Prompto takes a selfie with your petrified body

No sooner have you regained yourself than he’s casting Starshell and inflicting you with confusion.

Where are you? What are you doing here? What day is it? Who’s President?

Why are you asking that? Lucis has a monarchy?

You literally end up putting your weapon down and sitting by a dumpster, your head spinning and your thoughts a muddled, confusing mess in your head

Prompto sits down next to you and listens to you rant and rave, riding out the status effect until it’s run its course

You, Confused: “Why do they call it instant ramen when it takes three minutes to cook”

You, Confused: “That’s not instant”

You, Confused: “Does it hurt grass when we step on it?”

You, Confused: “Why are bees”

Prompto: “Why are bees what?”

You, Confused: “Just. Why. Why are bees”

You, Somehow Even More Confused Than Before: “Tissue fabric running tire folder clean”

Prompto: *Is trying so hard not to fucking laugh right now. Literally he has never seen someone react this way to the confusion status ailment* “That’s right. Let it all out.”

You finally come back to yourself and look at Prompto for what feels like the first time.

You: “Did... did I win?”

Prompto: “I’d call it a tie.”

You don’t spar again that day. You just hang out.

You will fight again a few more times! Turns out he’s not so tough once you manage to dodge his attacks and get in close.

Punch him! He bleeds!

Please don’t punch him. He bleeds. :(((((((

The score ends up being 4-3 in Prompto’s favor. You try to argue that the first fight shouldn’t count because of the Status Ailment Hell he banished you to, but Prompto won’t hear a word of it

You’ll get him next time

You think Prompto’s great! You can’t remember the last time you laughed this much. It feels good to laugh. There’s not much to laugh at in this dark day and age.

Prompto gives you his number before he leaves Lestallum. You promise you’ll text him when you remember your passcode.

That leaves Iris to once again be an intermediary between you and another Chocobro, though this one is more for fun than it is with Gladio-- since most of your communications are related to relief efforts around Lucis.

IRIS’S PHONE BECOMES A HUB FOR POST-APOCALYPTIC MEMES

It’s like a “laugh in one eye, cry in the other” situation

You guys end up texting so much that Iris can’t take it anymore. A friend of hers in Old Lestallum has an unlocked smart phone and gives it to you until you can unlock your own.

The meme-ing gloves are off now. Uh-oh.

Group chat with Gladio and Iris. Prompto names the group “Annoying the Amicitias”

Where has Prompto been all your life? You’re memesters in crime

Fast-forward seven months. Iris bursts into your tent in the middle of the night in tears.

Iris: “I just got a call from Gladio. Prompto went with some hunters on a supply run. They haven’t come back. They’re all missing.”

You’re getting out of bed and reaching for your jacket in an instant

You: “I’m going.”

Iris: “I’m coming with you.”

Gladio promises he’ll meet you in Hammerhead, and that Iggy’s coming, too.

You have no idea who Iggy is, but Iris looks happy about that news, so you will be, too

You don’t tell Gladio that Iris is coming with you.

He’s going to be PISSED.

AT YOU.

WHY DO YOU GO OUT OF YOUR WAY TO MAKE THIS GUY ANGRY

HAVE YOU NO FEAR

Continued under the cut!

You and Iris meet Cindy in her garage, and she explains what had happened. She and Prompto had been talking about those special headlights that can be used to keep daemons away. If the possibility even existed that there were more in Insomnia, it had to be looked into. With the nights growing longer, it would soon become suicide to drive between safe havens without them.

A search party had been sent to Insomnia a week after the original group had left. They’d made it to the city, but they couldn’t find Prompto or the hunters anywhere-- alive, or dead.

You: “What if they never made it to Insomnia?”

Gladio: “Or they made it to Insomnia, but were on their way back when they were attacked?”

Cindy: “Will be a right mess if either one o’ them is the case. They could be anywhere between here ‘n there.”

Gladio: “And splitting up to cover more ground is out of the question.”

Iris: “So what do we do, Gladdy?"

Ignis: “We travel in pairs.”

You witness the True Power of the Amicitia Family when Iris and Gladio get into a spectacular argument about whether or not Iris should join the rescue mission.

You and Cindy kind of watch them bicker in awe. The way that I imagine one of the humans in Jurassic Park watched in awe as the dinosaurs fucking killed each other.

Gladio finally relents. BUT. Iris has to travel with him. Ignis, still trying to adjust to life as a blind man, will travel with them, as well.

Gladio hadn’t even tried to tell Ignis to stay behind for this one.

Ignis devises a plan for the rescue mission.

You all create five search parties and plan out the routes each of you will take with a map. At this point, there are only a few hours of light each day, so the plan is to drive out together in two trucks, fan out and search the area, and then return to the car and drive back as it starts to get dark.

The keys are left in the glove compartment of the unlocked car. Six forbid that the person with the keys gets killed or goes missing, leaving the survivors stranded without an escape vehicle

You get paired up with a hunter named Kravyn. You’d worked with him on a few hunts before. He’s as capable a hunter as anyone.

You both get out of the truck and head northeast. It already seems like the sky is growing darker. Are the days even shorter now? Will the time come when the sun doesn’t rise at all?

Iris and Prompto seem convinced that Prince Noctis will return before that happens.

You do your best to not lose hope that he’ll return at all.

The clock is ticking. The timer you’d set on your phone shows that you only have fifteen minutes before you need to head back.

That’s when you see blood in the grass.

You follow it.

The trail leads you through the grass and into the woods. It’s so dense... you can barely fit between the trees. It’s so dark beneath the canopy of leaves overhead that you have to take out your flashlight so that you can see the blood splattered around.

The blood leads you to a corpse. It’s not Prompto’s.

You take the dog tags. They belonged to a woman named Janda.

Kravyn: “Fuck. Fuck. We gotta head back. This is way too dangerous.”

You: “I’m not leaving. We still have... seven minutes. The rest of them could still be alive somewhere.”

To Kravyn’s credit, he doesn’t abandon you. You can tell he’s terrified, but he stays by your side and helps you search.

The alarm on your phone starts to beep right when you see a boot jutting out from behind the trunk of a tree.

It’s Prompto. You’ve found him.

He’s covered in blood. His eyes are closed. He’s not moving.

You: “SHIT SHIT SHIT”

You snatch a hi-elixir from your back and break it over his head, since he’s covered in so much blood that you can’t even tell where he’s injured and you don’t want to waste time poking around trying to find out where.

He lets out a soft moan when you give him the curative. He’s still alive! Thank the Six!

Why didn’t you check for a pulse first? You could have wasted a precious curative on a corpse!!!

You: “You’re hurt, Prompto. Tell me where.”

Prompto: “Everywhere.”

You: “YOU ARE BEING VERY UNHELPFUL RIGHT NOW.”

You end up giving him two more elixirs. He’s still in a pretty bad way, but his breathing is significantly less labored, and his pulse feels strong enough to repair some of your confidence about his chances of survival.

Kravyn: “This is great that we found Prompto and everything, but we really should be heading back.”

You, Reaching to Pick Him Up: “Right. Up we go, Prompto.”

Prompto: “I can walk.”

He moves his right leg a little bit and stops immediately.

Prompto: “I lied.”

You: “As I was fucking saying. Up we go, Prompto.

Prompto: “Omg I’m so heavy you’ll never make it.”

Is Prompto heavy, or are you just really strong? Both? Neither? Who cares? What matters is that you’re able to pick him up and carry him without too much trouble.

You can pinpoint the exact moment he passes out because he stops apologizing for how heavy he is and for making everyone worry and for the fact that you risked your life to find him

You and Kravyn make it back to the truck. Everyone else has already returned, but the plan had been to wait an hour before heading back to Hammerhead, so they had all been waiting for you.

Iris starts crying again when she sees Prompto. Even Gladio gets really quiet and dewey-eyed. Ignis rests his hand on Prompto’s chest, as if to feel his heartbeat.

Ignis: “Bloody idiot. Thank the Six...”

Prompto is the only missing hunter the rescue team was able to find.

Iris found a dog tag. Including the dog tag you’d found, that leaves two of the missing hunters still unaccounted for.

You all agree that you’ll head back out again tomorrow to search further north.

You take Prompto back to Hammerhead to get proper medical treatment. He’s going to be okay.

#final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv comrades #ffxv #prompto agentum #prompto #comrades dlc #text #destiny headcanons #Destiny Answers #long post #there you go! you guys saved prompto! nice going :)#ffxv spoilers

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tsatsm · 3 years ago

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[chapter 1: before the storm]

The chill of the morning quickly dissipated into the scorching summer heat on the 14th of February, 1900, with the boys of the Marble Hills College eagerly and unabashedly giving and receiving love letters from their would be suitors.

It was a tradition of sorts, one Will Doherty, the oldest son of the college’s headmaster, presented some odd years ago as a jest at first, which quickly grew roots and only became more elaborate as the years went by.

Today was also the day of the much expected trip to Hanging Rock, a mountain not too far from the college itself, where their annual picnic was held as a way to let the schoolboys loose for an afternoon before heading back to the order and familiarity of the college.

The first to wake up was, as usual, the light sleeping Karl Haas, whom the previous night had been haunted by terrible nightmares and wondrous dreams.

Samuel P. Nabel, his roomate and close companion, found him reading tarot cards once he awoke much later that morn. “Any good news from your friends on the other side?” was all he needed to say to push poor Karl out of his trance like state and back into reality.

His eyes were sunken from lack of sleep and his hand shook, holding a familiar card to the Nabel boy. Upright tower. He remembered that one being either particularly nasty or particularly good, and by the looks of his roomate, the former one was truer in this circumstance.

“It- it represents chaos and change..” Karl said quietly, to which Samuel sighed. His broad shoulders slumped as he waddled his way out of the now terribly warm bed and stretched.

“Well, it can’t be all that bad, old chap. I’m guessing the only chaos and change happening today is we finally get a few crumbs of freedom for the afternoon.” He smiled. “Besides, we also have a few interesting things to look forward to excluding that. Like figuring out who exactly wrote to me in their love letter this year. I already have a few guesses.”

The Haas boy nodded, his blue and brown eyes looking away from him at that moment, blush creeping onto his ears. Samuel instantly took notice, and concern spread across his face like ants over a newly rotting apple. He placed his hand over the boy’s forehead,“Are you feeling unwell? Should I call a teacher or the headmaster-”

The sudden movement away surprised Samuel, and Karl practically leapt away from the touch. “No, it’s.. it’s just too damn warm. In here. We should get ready, to not make the others wait.”

He hopped off his bed with little grace, but he still landed on his feet, so it was a small success. “Besides, if we doddle, we’d have less time on the rock.”

“I guess.. not like that place is interesting in any way, shape or form..” Sam watched as his friend poured some water into the basin to freshen himself up.

“Well, I like it.”

“Only because of the spiritual bullcrap you generally like. It’s a rock that’s been there forever, and it’ll be there long after all the humans are gone off the planet.” He could hear small giggles between the cool splashes of water infused with rose petals.

“That’s why I like it so much.” Karl’s voice became so quiet it’d be considered a breath, if even that. “It’s waited all these years- all these forevers- just for us.”

Though he did not see it, the Nabel boy’s concern hadn’t faded away with those words. They did the complete opposite, in fact. Even if Karl would never see the face, he could still feel something off with Samuel. Dressing up for the day without peaking had become a chore all on its own, now that the boy’s poor hormones worked against him in every aspect possible. To distract from this, Karl’s eyes focused on the tower tarot card, squinting ever so slightly before he was brought back by Samuel’s excited voice. He knew what had to be done today.

[...]

George Welford had never slept in before. He wasn’t the most timely fellow of his class, that was true, but he was never so late his slacker friend Dorian Thatcher had to be the one to knock on his door to make sure he was up and about.

The boy’s raspy voice from all the secret cigarettes he’d smoked on the roof, coupled with his rather obnoxious banging on the door, made George painfully aware that he was, in fact, late.

Cursing himself for being so careless, he dressed up quickly, almost forgetting to put his black gloves on before being seen outside his room, and opened the door. The blond boy with rather long, unkempt hair that morning, smiled mischievously as he spoke, “You’re gonna miss the trip at this rate, idiot. As a fellow lazy man, I only saw it fit that I try to pull you out of that dreadful slumber of yours once and for all.. at least for today.” The devilish wink did not go unnoticed by the shorter brunet, who rolled his eyes so hard they hurt by the end of this.

“Only because I had a dreadful sleep last night. Must’ve been that Haas boy working his witchcrafts on me-”

“To make you fall for him?” Dorian rudely interrupted as George’s face flashed pink. “Or to fall for someone else who paid him to do a little spell on you?”

“You absolute fiend! I’m sure he has no such- such idiotic knowledge! By God, you embarrass me every day by saying nonsense as if your life depended on it.”

“Well, maybe it does. Don’t you like it when I-” The boys quickly turned at the sound of something whooshing through the narrow opening between the door and the bed. The two looked at each other, then back at the strange card, curiosity filling the room like honey, ever viscous and ever present. “..Do you know what that is or..?” Dorian was the first to make a sound.

George, slowly, picked the card up, brows knit tightly. It was unmistakably from Haas’ little tarot collection, the picture depicted a tower burning and collapsing, people jumping or falling to their deaths. “What the hell..?” The name of the card was ‘the tower’, and its number was sixteen written in bold roman numerals.

“Ominous. I love it. We should probably give this back, right, George?” The Thatcher boy looked at the slightly frightened companion who just nodded along, not listening one bit. “Or.. we could burn it. Teach him a lesson for messing with us, yeah?” George’s head shot up in relief, as though he’d just now figured out what to do and how to do it. “I’ll be right back. You wait for me in the lunchroom, yeah? This shouldn’t take long.” He was already halfway out the door when Dorian realised what was happening.

“Wh- hey, where are you going, leaving me in your room like I’m some pervert!” He closed the door behind him, but he was no match for the running boy. Frozen in place, Dorian grit his teeth ever so slightly. “..It’s for William, isn’t it?” He spoke all too quietly at the dead air.

[...]

“-And besides, it’s not my fault dad enrolled me here a year earlier. Now I have to wait a whole year before I get the chance to see High Rock up close!” Thomas fidgeted as William brushed his baby brother’s golden hair carefully. “And then you’ll be last year, so you’ll probably be too busy-”

“Tommy.” His brother shushed, “You can still go to High Rock without me, you know that?” William’s laugh sounded almost like bells to Thomas, always surprising him despite knowing him his entire life. “And besides, it’s high time you find friends of your own. Friends besides me and father and the calculus professor.”

“It’s not my fault Mr Talbott simply likes me more than the rest.” He stated proudly, eyes and smile shining like the crests of Orion. “I bet I’ll be his favorite soon enough.”

“I’m sure you are already, but..” William looked to the ground, still combing carefully, “I won’t be here for much longer. ..At the college, I mean. And I’m worried you’ll only stay by my side and never come out of your shell.”

As Thomas looked at their shared mirror, he couldn’t help but notice the gap between him and his brother. William, the tall, intelligent and charismatic leader of every group he is in, and.. Tommy. The younger brother with no potential and too big shoes to fill. “..I’ll try, Will.”

“That’s all I’m asking of you.” With a quick hug and a light ruffling of hair, he smiled again. “Now, don’t forget your gloves or father will be furious.”

The younger Doherty boy laughed, taking his ironed gloves off the dressing table, noticing all the strange gadgets and trinkets his brother had collected over the years. Most were stones, all pretty shapes and wild colors, all things he knew nothing of but knew that it made William happy, so he was content with just that. Carefully, he picked up the shimmering fool’s gold and twirled it in his hand. “What’s this one for?”

William, now without glasses, turned and made a small huff. “I told you a million times already, Tommy. It’s for confidence.” He pointed to the thicker book on his nightstand. “Any more questions you have, Miss Hannah Rose has all the answers for you.” His slender arms looked ridiculous in that puffy shirt that they called a part of their school uniform, Thomas thought to himself.

A quiet knock filled the room, and before William had the time to even open his mouth, the Welford boy rushed in, holding up a card with a weird drawing on it. The younger boy tried to squint to see the illustration better before George gave it over to Wilbur, “Can you help me with this? I’m not sure who it belongs to.”

A deep, terrible silence befell the Doherty room, one where the awful heat simply added to the bad feeling pooling down in the pit of Thomas’ gut. Something seems wrong today, and it was only the morning. Sure, it had become a normal part of the day for a boy or two to come into his and William’s room for advice or a chat, but this.. didn’t feel like any of the other times.

“Tommy, can you wait for me in the lunchroom? I’ll be down shortly.” With a soft, comforting smile only his brother could do, Thomas had no choice but to nod and leave the room as quickly as possible, still holding on to the fool’s gold.

It was for courage, after all.

0 notes

acekatherineplumber · 5 years ago

Text

Last questions, I swear!

1. Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? Spotify

2. is your room messy or clean? Pretty clean!

3. what color are your eyes? Blue-green-gray

4. do you like your name? why? I do! I think it’s really cool, and I like the spelling

5. what is your relationship status? Single

6. describe your personality in 3 words or less Intelligent, kind, fierce

7. what color hair do you have? Dirty blonde

8. what kind of car do you drive? color? Blue 2015 Toyota Corolla

9. where do you shop? I shop on Modcloth and Amazon mostly

10. how would you describe your style? Femme, polished

11. favorite social media account Tumblr

12. what size bed do you have? Twin

13. any siblings? 1 younger sister

14. if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? London would be a cool city to live in. Living somewhere in France would be cool, but I’m not sure if I want to deal with paperwork in my second language and French bureaucracy for the rest of my life

15. favorite snapchat filter? I don’t use filters. I barely post on Snapchat

16. favorite makeup brand(s) NARS, Huda Beauty, ABH, Smashbox, and Becca

17. how many times a week do you shower? 3-4

18. favorite tv show? Currently running, Brooklyn 99. Not running, Parks and Recreation

19. shoe size? 7.5

20. how tall are you? 5’4.5”

21. sandals or sneakers? Sneakers

22. do you go to the gym? When it’s not Coronavirusing outside, yes

23. describe your dream date Indian food and a Shakespeare play

24. how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? No cash at the moment, but I just got back from Europe two weeks ago, and have been quarantined the entire time

25. what color socks are you wearing? I’m currently barefoot

26. how many pillows do you sleep with? Typically 2

27. do you have a job? what do you do? Currently, no

28. how many friends do you have? 5 close friends

29. whats the worst thing you have ever done? I’m not putting that on the internet. If you’re a good friend, you know. It was bad.

30. whats your favorite candle scent? Vanilla

31. 3 favorite boy names Damien, Florian, Robert

32. 3 favorite girl names Katherine, Stella, Abrielle

33. favorite actor? Idk, Dwayne Johnson?

34. favorite actress? Anne Hathaway

35. who is your celebrity crush? Anne Hathaway

36. favorite movie? The Princess Bride

37. do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? I do! My favorite book is Les Misérables

38. money or brains? Brains

39. do you have a nickname? what is it? No

40. how many times have you been to the hospital? Twice in recent memory

41. top 10 favorite songs They’re constantly changing

42. do you take any medications daily? I take 13 different things a day (mostly vitamins), 11 in the morning, vitamin C powder with lunch, and melatonin at night

43. what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc) Oily

44. what is your biggest fear? Failure

45. how many kids do you want? Zero

46. whats your go to hair style? Low bun

47. what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) Medium single family home

48. who is your role model? My academic adviser from college

49. what was the last compliment you received? Someone told me my business French was really good

50. what was the last text you sent? I sent one of my best friends a video that I also sent to the group chat because she’s rarely in the group chat

51. how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? Seven? I think?

52. what is your dream car? I don’t have a dream car

53. opinion on smoking? Disgusting, and I won’t date people who do it

54. do you go to college? I graduated from undergrad last year. Grad school has a very scary price tag, so I’m putting it off

55. what is your dream job? Teacher

56. would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? Neither. City!

57. do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? Yes

58. do you have freckles? No

59. do you smile for pictures? Yes

60. how many pictures do you have on your phone? Over 1,000

61. have you ever peed in the woods? Yes

62. do you still watch cartoons? Not many, but a few, like Tangled the Series

63. do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds? Neither. I don’t eat meat

64. Favorite dipping sauce? Ketchup

65. what do you wear to bed? Oversize t-shirt

66. have you ever won a spelling bee? No. I spell quite well though

67. what are your hobbies? Reading, language-learning, listening to musicals, traveling, watching Disney movies, and playing with my cats

68. can you draw? I’m working on it!

69. do you play an instrument? I sing and can play a little piano

70. what was the last concert you saw? I don’t remember.

71. tea or coffee? Tea

72. Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? Starbucks

73. do you want to get married? Yes

74. what is your crush’s first and last initial? M.M.

75. are you going to change your last name when you get married? No.

76. what color looks best on you? Teal

77. do you miss anyone right now? One of my former roommates

78. do you sleep with your door open or closed? Closed

79. do you believe in ghosts? Yes

80. what is your biggest pet peeve? Not being listened to

81. last person you called My dad

82. favorite ice cream flavor? Vegan Rocky Road

83. regular oreos or golden oreos? Regular, although there are definitely better cookies

84. chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? Rainbow

85. what shirt are you wearing? I’m wearing a dress

86. what is your phone background? The sunset at the docks at my university

87. are you outgoing or shy? I would say I’m reserved, but friendly

88. do you like it when people play with your hair? YES

89. do you like your neighbors? I don’t know them well. They both moved in while I was away at university

90. do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? Both

91. have you ever been high? No.

92. have you ever been drunk? Plenty in college. I barely drink anymore though.

93. last thing you ate? Two Thin Mints

94. favorite lyrics right now “Grow yourself into something new” from Frozen 2

95. summer or winter? Neither. Autumn.

96. day or night? Night

97. dark, milk, or white chocolate? Dark

98. favorite month? October

99. what is your zodiac sign Leo sun, Libra moon, Virgo rising

100. who was the last person you cried in front of? My former roommate, because I was leaving and was going to miss her

#story of my life

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thedeptmuggleinterests-blog · 7 years ago

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Inferius. Part 2: St Mungos (2nd August 2017)

Padma:There was a steady thrum of pain behind Padma's forehead, as she waved an engorgio spell over the samples of blood. She couldn't believe what she had found, so had to triple check it before she passed any information on to Albus and Aldora's parents. Working as a healer was Padma's passion and a profession that she found fascinating, but right now she felt nothing but tension and stress. It had been a long few days to say the least and the fact that she was treating her close friends' and a pair of former Slytherin's children, the pressure was starting to get to her, let alone the exhaustion. She glanced up at the clock and bit her lip, knowing she was behind, but as she waved a final incantation over the samples, her eyes widened and she let out a short gasp. She snatched up her clipboard and ran out into the corridor, heading to the paediatric ward.

Daphne: After just arriving in the paediatric ward of St Mungo, a large buttered cappuccino in her hand, Daphne was clueless as to which direction to head in. She had originally headed to the hospital to see Padma, however at the request of her younger sister, Daphne had been asked to stick around and pressure the healers and mediwitches for information about Aldora.

Spotting Padma further along the corridor, Daphne began to follow. "Padma..." She shouted after her, not waiting for an answer before trying to get her attention again. "Padma!"

Padma: Padma skidded to a halt as she was about to fly round a corner to another corridor. "Daphne!" She beamed, and scurried quickly over to her. Their online conversations had been friendly, although the two witches hadn't actually conversed properly in person, Padma was happy to see her and the large steaming coffee in her hand. "You are far too kind" she said, gesturing to the coffee. "I don't think I've slept properly for the past three days...not that it matters" she stumbled "I just want the answers as much as anyone else"

Daphne: "You're doing me a favour, so bringing you coffee is the least I can do." Daphne held the cup out to Padma, smiling at her. "Are you heading to the ward? I'm supposed to be helping Astoria find out what's going on?"

Padma: She took the cup carefully from Daphne and took a sip straight away, not caring about the harsh scold of the coffee, but savouring the buttery taste. Her eyes widened as Daphne mentioned Astoria and she snapped back into action, waving her clipboard. "Yes. You can come with me if you like? I'll show you the way." She paused for a moment and said quietly "I think I know what it is... it's... it's so ridiculous and you might think I'm crazy but I swear the results are showing it as true..."

Harry: Round the corner a tense Harry Potter stood pacing outside the room where his son lay inside, purple and raging with blistering welts. He felt guilty, like it was his fault almost for Albus getting ill, but mostly he felt entirely helpless, not knowing what to do. He had to get Ron to frogmarch Ginny out of the hospital to go home and get some rest. The worry hadn't done her any favours and she looked like the living dead. He ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation as he continued to pace. 'I think I know what it is...' he heard a voice say. "Padma" he whispered, before darting down the corridor and turning the corner to see her standing there, coffee cup in hand and a worried expression on her face as she chatted to Daphne Greengrass. "What is it?" He exclaimed "Padma, tell me what's wrong!"

Astoria: Astoria hurriedly cast a charm over herself as she half ran into the pediatric ward. In an attempt to rid herself of the smell of drink and smoke, it now lingered under the sent of fried mushrooms. Her head was too chaotic to give the spell the attention it needed as she cast. Her shoes tapped heavily on the polished floor, while she tried to remember the way to her daughters bed. As she turned the corner, her shoes squeaked as she came to a halt. A short distance away she spotted them and her heart sank. Frozen for a moment before taking a breath, she strode through the hallway, pushing her sister aside with her hand. “Well?”

Daphne: A crowd of concerned parents had began to gather around them. Harry had heard Padma's voice and swiftly joined them to ask what was wrong with his son, and Daphne smelled her absent sister before she heard or saw her join them in the corridor. Excuse you." Daphne spat at Astoria, pushing herself back into the conversation. "Both you and your attitude stink. At least I was here to try and find out what's going on with Aldora." It made Daphne's blood boil that her younger sister thought it was so easy to push her aside. She might not have been a parent, but Astoria had asked her to be there, and she still cared for her niece.

Astoria: Astoria turned sharply to her sister, glaring at her as she spoke through gritted teeth. "Do not test me right now, Daphne." She knew she owed a lot to her sister for this and for all the times she had left Aldora in her care but thanks was the furthest thing from her mind. Her attention moved quickly to Padma, "tell me you know what's wrong with her! She's been here for over a day now and if you were doing your job correctly, all of this children would be at home!"

Harry: Harry watched as the confrontation unfolded in front of him. He wanted answers as much as Astoria did, but nobody spoke to his friend like that. "Hey, watch your mouth, would you?" He snapped at her "You don't see me or any of these other people shouting at Padma or the other staff, do you? Of course she's doing her job correctly, otherwise our children wouldn't be stable and we would all probably be attending funerals by now, so shut. Up." He paused and breathed for a moment, calming himself down before turning to Padma.. "So... what were you about to tell Daphne, before we were so rudely interrupted?"

Padma: Padma's knuckles had gone white from where she'd been gripping her clipboard so hard. All eyes pointed in her direction and she gulped with anxiety before clearing her throat and holding the coffee cup out to Daphne. "Daph.. would you mind while I..?" And she thanked the eldest Greengrass as she kindly took the cup from her grasp. She took a deep breath in and raised her head, pulling her shoulders back to address the small crowd that had formed around her. "So..." she began "I'm so sorry that it's taken so long to give you answers. I can imagine how frustrated you've been feeling..." she glanced around the group, looking at everyone with huge apologetic eyes. "All of our first tests came back inconclusive and all of the charms we tried performing backfired with little working or making a huge amount of difference. But with the blood samples I have managed to make a breakthrough.. a very unusual one that you might not believe, but I am adamant is true. I know what it is..."

Blaise: Blaise had spent the better part of his time fighting his way into his daughter's room, and once he had finally managed to successfully get there, he had spent all the time possible. Ever since his daughter was born, he found his life, and the way he used to view things, constantly changing. It was no longer all about him. It never would be again. When Aldora finally fell asleep once more, he got up to stretch his legs and get a cup of coffee. He was on his way back when he saw the congregation. He hesitated, wanting nothing more to go back to his daughter, but when he heard the last few words of Padma's, it sent him directly to the group. "What is it?" He asked her. The man was exhausted and stressed and was still upset enough with Astoria he wouldn't even look at her.

Padma: Padma looked over to Blaise as he approached the group and nodded in acknowledgement before continuing... "What I found in the children's bloodstream is Peruvian Vipertooth venom, which causes dragon pox." Padma ensured that she spoke slowly and articulately so that everyone could hear. "Now, this would explain the change of skin colour and welts, however dragonpox usually turns the patient predominantly green, not purple." She took a moment to refer to her notes and clear her throat once more... "Not only was the venom in the bloodstream, but the appearance of the venom was different to what I've usually seen, like it had almost curdled? So I did a further breakdown of the cells using a few muggle techniques and found that the blood also tested positive for one thing, something I wasn't expecting to see... a muggle drug called heroin. I don't know how or where these children have managed to ingest this kind of thing, but I looked it up and there is a new psychedelic drug being sold on the Wizarding black market called 'Inferius'. It sends the user into a zombie like state and gives hallucinations. But this particular batch had bad viper venom in it, thus being particularly deadly and if injected into the vein would have caused immediate death."

Astoria: Astoria listened intently to every word that came out of Padma's mouth, not noticing that Blaise had joined them. Her heart in her throat, and stomach threatening to empty itself, her voice cracked. "How did my child get that in her system?"

Padma: Padma was taken aback by Astoria's unusually quiet tone. "I don't know. But what I do know is that the likelihood is that it was inhaled, hence why they are only severely sick. Dragon Pox as you know is quick to manifest in young children and the elderly, but because of the curdling it was sped up. As soon as I make an antidote for the sickness I will also have to make an injection for those who have been in direct contact with your child whilst they have been ill. As you know we have kept the children in quarantine bubble charms, but we cannot take any risks." She paused for a moment to let it sink in, giving a reassuring but timid smile before turning to Harry. "We need to find out how this happened."

Harry: Harry nodded in agreement before turning to address the group. "I will have my team come in and take statements from you all individually from the time that your children first showed any symptoms and also about their whereabouts over the weekend. I think we can all agree that the past few days have been a living nightmare and that we can all thank Miss Patil and her team for all of their hard work during this crucial time."

He looked at Padma thankfully before addressing the crowd once more... "I'd also like to promise each and everyone of you here, that my team and I WILL find whoever is selling this awful drug and also whoever is supplying it." He took a long look at each member of the group, pausing momentarily on Astoria. "I'll make sure that justice is served to them"

Daphne: Daphne was overwhelmed by the information they had just received, as this was not at all what she had expected. "It's all well and good us talking about taking statements, but no one has actually asked if either of these children will be okay and if they're going to make a full recovery." Although she was more than willing to recount every hour of the last few days to try and help, she knew there wouldn't be much in her statement to help. Her mind was going into overdrive. "And what about everyone that's not here right now that has been in contact with Albus and Aldora? There are going to be a lot more people that need that injection than just us, right? Is there going to be enough?"

Blaise: "Are they going to be okay and make a full recovery?" Blaise asked, stepping closer to Padma. He was grateful; that was an understatement, for the care she had given not only Aldora, but Albus as well. He was just still too flustered and upset to think about voicing that yet. "And how the hell would they have gotten into contact with heroin?"

Astoria: Her eyes widened as Astoria noticed Blaise was standing with them. But avoided eye contact with him, turning slowly to Harry before directing her question at Padma. "How long will it take you to make this antidote?"

Blaise: Blaise glanced at Astoria, but made no move to go closer to her or even to really speak with her. He decided against his coffee, mainly because his hands were shaking so horribly he doubted he could manage to drink it when if he thought he could stomach it.

Padma: Padma watched the parents, as they all moved closer to her. She wanted to take a step back at the overwhelming sensation that began to seep over her, yet kept her feet fully planted on the floor. "I have the ingredients to an antidote, I just need to go to the lab and mix it. It's basically a dragon pox antidote with a magical remedy that counteracts the muggle drug. Because this is a brand new case, I can't tell one hundred percent how it will work, but myself and my team are positive that it'll work, as the children's symptoms are very similar to dragon pox." Padma paused and took a deep breath before looking up at Daphne. "In terms of the injection, we will be administering it to the parents and guardians and any young children or elderly in the family to be safe. We will also send out a widespread message with the symptoms and to bring whoever may present these symptoms straight to St Mungo's where we can treat them swiftly and accordingly" Finally, she turned to Blaise "As for how they came into contact with the Inferius... I can't answer that as I don't know. However the fact that all of you brought your children in within the same 24 hours makes me wonder whether it was a location that you've all taken your children to, where they could have inhaled the fumes?"

Daphne: Daphne had only had Aldora in her care couple times recently. The last time she had looked after her, she was already sick, and the time before that she had done all she could to entertain the girl. "How recently could this have happened? Because I know that before Aldora was ill, my husband and I had her overnight, and the following day we took her for lunch and to a play centre, but this was all last week."

Harry: Harry's ear pricked at the mention of a play centre and he could see the other parents' thoughts buzzing in their heads to try and remember where they had taken their children over the weekend. Ginny had taken Albus to Happy Hippogriffs on Saturday, the day before he'd started to fall ill. "Which play centre did you go to?" He asked, stepping forward. "Ginny took Albus to one over the weekend"

Daphne: Daphne had to think about the name of the play centre. It had been Cormac's idea to take her there and Aldora had practically bounced the entire way after they asked her if she wanted to go. "The place has a creature in its name. Like Griffin or Hippogriff or something."

Harry:Harry's heart began to beat a little bit faster... "Was it Happy Hippogriffs by any chance?" he asked. He glanced around the group and he could see that a few parents' eyes were wider than before and some were furiously muttering to one another in recognition of the name.

Daphne: "That's the one." Daphne said, nodding at what Harry had said. "It seemed like a nice place at the time."

Astoria: Astoria turned sharply to face her sister, glaring at her. "You did this to her? You took her to that disgusting place full of other people's children!"

Blaise: Blaise stepped forward, towards Astoria. "I've taken her there before," he frowned. "She can't live in a bubble, she has friends, it happens. Maybe she got sick from me taking her. It happens. Things happen. She's not to blame."

Astoria: She didn't move to look at him, she just huffed and looked to Padma "Just do what you need to do. And Potter, figure this out quickly. Before I start calling for your job." She didn't wait for a response. Instead she turned around and began heading down the corridor to find her daughter.

Padma: Padma watched as she left before turning to the rest of the crowd "I'm going to brew the antidote now. It shouldn't take more than an hour. If you have any questions at all please don't hesitate to contact one of my colleagues. I'm so sorry that you've all had to wait so long..." she nodded and smiled softly at everyone, lingering on Harry, Blaise and Daphne... "I'll catch up with you soon, thanks so much for the coffee" she said quietly to Daphne, before shuffling around the group and heading off quickly down the hall.

Blaise: "Thank you," Blaise nodded. "Your efforts have been appreciated and have not gone unnoticed," he told Padma, before she departed. He sighed and rubbed his face once she left, before he nodded at both Harry and Daphne and then made his way down the hall after Astoria, towards their daughter.

Harry:Harry responded warmly to Padma's nod and smile and watched her disappear, so grateful that she had a cure. He turned to the others.. "You all get back to your children. My team will be in within the next 24 hours to take statements from all of you and get a proper investigation launched. Rest assured I will find out what happened. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be getting back to my son." He smiled and turned on his heel, looking forward to the prospect of being able to hug his son once again.

https://twitter.com/thenameispotter

https://twitter.com/Astoriagreengra

https://twitter.com/theonott2017

https://twitter.com/Padma_x

https://twitter.com/Fortheloveofron

https://twitter.com/MacMcLaggen

https://twitter.com/mionejane

https://twitter.com/pansyparksy

https://twitter.com/DGreengrassx

https://twitter.com/BlaisetheBomb

https://twitter.com/DracoTheGod

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one-of-us-blog · 6 years ago

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Ebbtide for the Defense (TGP, Episode 5)

Today Eli is forced to watch and recap Ebbtide for the Defense, Episode 5 of The Golden Palace. The girls find themselves in a delicate situation when the hotel is overbooked with lawyers and judges. Meanwhile, Chuy is visited by an unwelcome figure from his past who insists on sticking around. With a house this crowded, will the gals find a way to restore order? Keep reading to find out…

Drew may still be on hiatus, but that doesn’t mean that he’s resting on his laurels! Cap, I can’t believe that you’re taking the bullet of watching the entire run of James Bond Jr.! Not even the hosts of the James Bonding podcast are that dedicated, and I’m certainly not, so I can’t believe you’re putting yourself through the experience. I also can’t believe the makers of that show were apparently shameless enough to recycle classic Bond villains who were very clearly dead! Regardless, I salute you, and only hope that such an endeavor doesn’t sour you to the actual franchise. For now, I have my own far less ambitious business to tend to at The Golden Palace, so let’s check on in and check this out!

Buttocks tight!

Episode written by Marc Sotkin, directed by Peter D. Beyt

The episode opens with Sophia, Chuy, and Roland cooking up a storm, and we discover that Roland is a big pansy afraid of giblets, bugs, and bathroom interactions. Blanche is in the lobby fielding a call from an annoying guest, and we also learn that the hotel has been overrun with a convention of personal injury lawyers. They will be checking out on the 9th of the month, but Rose reveals that she has mistakenly booked a group of judges on the 8th. The hotel will be overbooked, and they are already short of help in the kitchen. Miraculously, a random dude walks in and hands them his resume, claiming to be a chef looking for work. Blanche hires him (apparently with no paperwork), and sends him to the kitchen immediately. It is there we find that this is Rubin, the former best friend of Chuy! We also find that Rubin was once caught in bed with Chuy’s wife! Oh, the drama! Chuy threatens the scoundrel with bodily harm and attempts to chase him off, but Rubin points out that he can’t be fired without good cause, and there is a swarm of lawyers at hand ready to take his case.

To add to the woes of the hospitality business, we next learn that the hotel has had its liability insurance cancelled, due to some minor incident in which Rose nearly drowned a guest beneath a pool cover. Big deal, right? Needless to say, the gang will have to be careful not to get into any legal trouble. Rose mentions that she has a plan to board both the lawyers and the judges, based on the details of the St. Olaf Big Monkey Trial. Don’t ask. According to Rose, if they all get cozy in a couple of rooms, and if one lawyer shares a room with one judge, they should just be able to handle everyone. Wait, why does it have to be two strangers instead of two of the lawyers or two of the judges? WHY? Roland isn’t happy about the situation either, but Blanche is on board. In the kitchen, Chuy is still angry that he has to work with Rubin, though his former best friend says that he loves and misses him. Chuy isn’t feeling particularly forgiving, and even mentions a time when Rubin stole his crayons when they were children. Probably the kind with the sharpener built right into the box. They may have been best friends once, but Rubin has taken enough from him.

While Roland fails to acquire new liability insurance, Rose chats up a lawyer (Steve Hytner, or Bania from Seinfeld). She convinces him to share a room with one of the judges, Mr. Angel, by offering a discounted room for the night, but the “Judges of Jacksonville” choose that moment to arrive for check-in. They are actually a terrifying biker gang, headed by the “Angel of Death.” Mr. Angel is happy to bunk with the much smaller lawyer, who is now threatening to take the hotel for himself should anything happen to him. Who could have foreseen such a turn of events?

That night, we find Blanche, Rose, and Sophia sharing a bed like the good old days. Blanche breaks the bad news about the insurance, and Sophia attempts to warm her frozen feet on the hot thighs of her bedmates. In the boys’ room, Roland will be bunking with Chuy while Oliver sleeps in a makeshift tent in preparation for a future of homelessness (I assume). Somewhere in another room, the lawyer and his new biker friend are singing a round of “Kumbaya.” We cut back to the girls to hear them lamenting the difficulties of the hotel business, but Rose gets the same idea as Oliver and decides to construct a tent to play camp, and Sophia offers to share a scary story: “The Day Dorothy Quit Smoking.” Meanwhile, the biker gives his new bestie the lawyer a tattoo.

The gang apparently pulls off their scheme, because for the final scene we simply cut back to the kitchen to find Chuy and Rubin working together. Rubin mentions that it’s his last night working there, and he makes a final plea for Chuy’s forgiveness, also giving him some brand-new crayons. In an act that will almost certainly be good for his own peace of mind, Chuy decides to forgive his friend…for the sake of the old Rubin that he remembers so fondly.

The End.

Well, I have to be honest, I didn’t really like this one. Both of the plotlines here were pretty boring and predictable, at least for me, and I honestly felt nothing between Chuy and Rubin. Drew let me know he had been under the impression that the guest role had been played by Tommy Chong (rather that Gregory Sierra), and I actually think that might have added some chemistry and made the relationship seem more interesting. But worst of all, I just couldn’t get past the “solution” to the booking crisis. Why, oh why, did the solution have to entail a lawyer rooming with a random stranger? If one shared room between guests was all that was required, as they suggested, then I’m sure that two of the lawyers knew each other, and I’m positive that all of the bikers were friends. Somebody would have taken the free room, and been perfectly happy to bunk with a pal! There was no need for this step aside from making a couple of jokes that didn’t even end up being funny! Anyway, I’m sorry gals, but the best I can give Ebbtide for the Defense is a rating of 2 poofy hairdos out of 5.

Drew will be returning soon with his take on The Living Daylights, the first outing of Timothy Dalton as James Bond, and then I’ll be back with a recap of Can’t Stand Losing You, the next episode of The Golden Palace. Until then, as always, thank you for being a friend, and for being One of Us!

#golden palace #golden girls #one of us

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rvinsounds · 7 years ago

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— really really in which jess stresses sina out and then nadine and jess stress megan out.

a/n: another v self-indulgent engagement fic that came from my reading back the line chat and finding ridiculous shit for me to write about LOLOL. but also that’s not all the fic is about i just liked how that sounded ok it’s about the bridesmaids being chosen and stuff HAHA also this was supposed to be a crackfic but now it’s become sappy what the fuck a/n2: this is why i shouldn’t be allowed to write at 4am ...

they’re gathered in jess’ cafe, much to her exasperation — “is this just a place for you guys to have meetings? i have actual paying customers you know!” “shut up jess, you know you’d be angry if we held this anywhere else.” — after the unsurprising announcement of their eldest couple’s engagement.

“ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today —”

“why the fuck does this sound like a funeral?”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

“language.”

“sorry dad.”

“anyways, i think sina has an announcement.”

the former hufflepuff only looks amused, allowing nadine to have her moment of being the MC for their little meeting, before he exhales and smiles warmly at their group of friends gathered there. they’re missing seungyeon and chanuk, both of whom couldn’t make it to their little gathering because of work, and euncheol who was out of the country at the moment.

“as you know, megan and i are getting married.”

“holy shit, really?” he slants a glare at the current youngest slytherin in their midst, and jess has the audacity to grin back at him, but he just shakes his head before pulling out two little cards out of his pocket, unshrinking them in the next moment with a tap of his wand. he clears his throat, glancing around at his group of closest friends, and selecting one of the cards from the two in his hand. “saebom, would you do me the honour --”

“i call best man.”

“what.”

sinhwa doesn’t even have time to react, to retract his hand holding the card out to saebom before it’s snatched from his fingers, jess grinning like the cat who had gotten the cream. the two men look very shocked, frozen in their spots as nadine cackles loudly and reaches out to high five her friend. it takes a moment for sinhwa to recover before he scowls playfully and indicates for the ex-slytherin girl to hand the card to her boyfriend.

“anyways — oh saebom, would you do me the honour of being my best man?” jess quietly slides the card into her boyfriend’s hand, leaning her head against his shoulder he takes it, opening the card and grinning at the former hufflepuff.

“it would be an honour,” saebom replies, his dimple showing in his cheek and jess can’t help but lean up to kiss him on the cheek at his obvious happiness.

“and minseok,” the ex-gryffindor perks up at his name, the corners of his lips turning up at the corners as he receives the card, his chaser reflexes helping him evade interception from his own girlfriend, though nadine’s (lack of) height helps in that case as well, “kim minseok, will you do me the honour of being a groomsman?”

“’course,” minseok grins, pocketing the card with a little salute. jess gets up after basking in the happy glow around all of them for a moment, returning about ten minutes later to their regular chatter with a new round of drinks for everyone, sliding the cups in front of their respective receivers.

“i can’t believe you gave best man to saebom when i fucking called it first,” she huffs playfully at sinhwa, plopping herself into saebom’s lap in a show to prove she wasn’t really angry about it and was purposely just being a brat.

“you don’t just call best man,” arazely offers from across the table, rolling her eyes playfully at both the older girl’s words and her actions. they’re all still sort of getting used to jess showing her affection for saebom in public, though it’s become much more common within the confines of her cafe nowadays.

“what — no, it’s like how i called shotgun in minseok’s car the other day,” she points out, just to be contrary, grinning. “fuck you saebom.”

“hey, you love me.”

jess ignores his words in favour of pouting at him, her puppy eyes big and exaggerated. “why are you always stealing my spotlight? i wanted best man.”

“do i not get a say in this?” sinhwa sighs, slanting the words in a soft murmur to his fiancee, megan mostly just smiling fondly and half exasperatedly at jess’ antics, knowing that the younger girl would get it out of her eventually. they both also knew she was just taking the piss anyway, so there wasn’t really a point in arguing with her when she was set on making life difficult. “no, i don’t think you do.”

“you can be best man at our wedding in five years,” nadine volunteers, a cheshire-like grin on her face as she added fuel to the fire, ignoring minseok’s “hey!” of protest.

jess turns to nadine, rolling her eyes. “can saebom not for once, like i get he’s pretty and all but he’s not that pretty — like, he’s aight, i guess.”

saebom pouts at her before she grins, patting his cheek in a show of affection, leaning in to murmur something in his ear before she gets up again. “just kidding, i gotta get back to work. let me know if y’all want more drinks, okay? say bye if you gotta go!”

—

the dinner is a fancy affair. they know the moment they hear which restaurant it’s in, despite it being in muggle london. it’s one that’s rather famous even in the wizarding circles, considering it’s high class but not over the top fancy.

they arrive in pairs, as usual besides sinhwa’s brother and mimi, and they wait in the lounge, assuming they were to enter at the same time, and are lead into the private room megan and sinhwa had booked.

it’s decorated beautifully, with hints of silver and blue, the choice of colours obviously the theme of the wedding in the future. the table is laid out with glass and silverware, a box placed at each seat next to a placard with their names on it.

they all step into the room, eyeing the namecards from the entrance to make sure none of them awkwardly hovered trying to find their spot, sitting down once they had all found their places: jessica and saebom in front of sinhwa and megan respectively, nadine beside sinhwa with minseok across from her and sinhwa’s brother beside megan, mimi across from them. they settle down, grinning at the soon-to-be bride and groom.

it was obvious what they were there for, but there was a buzz of excitement in the air nonetheless. considering the placements, everyone already knew which positions they would be — not considering that all the males in the room had been asked already — but that was beside the point.

they all drew their wands once they had sat down, quiet as they glanced at megan for instruction, tapping the boxes in front of them gently, the wrapping paper melting away as if it had never been there in the first place. it’s quiet, the little glass cases before them clear, almost as if the glass wasn’t really there, though still obscuring what was inside.

another tap from their wands had the glass dissolving, the jewelry glinting prettily in the lighting of the restaurant. in front of each of the girls in a simple, dainty bracelet. each bracelet is silver, with a charm of the first letter of their names hanging next to a pearl of different colours for each of them — pale pink for jess, lavender for nadine, cream for mimi — with jess’ having a little gem on the ‘J’. jess grins, sliding the bracelet on, adding it to her collection of trinkets already adorning her wrist, tucking the little card baring the words ‘my ‘i do’ wouldn’t be the same without you’ into saebom’s suit pocket. the other girls follow suit, before turning to see what sinhwa had planned for the groomsmen.

as the boxes in front of the bridesmaids had done, the glass melts away in from the males as well. the boxes are flatter, less fancy than the ones for the females, but inside they hold a complete set of cufflinks and a tie bar — each piece has the groomsmen’s korean names engraved on them.

they’re all quiet for a moment, as if worried to break the serenity and peace of the moment, saebom quietly swapping out his cufflinks for the new ones and tucking the box into his pocket, glancing around to see the other two men had done the same surreptitiously.

no one really notices nadine and jess signalling to each other, obviously both of them having planned something as well, and it catches everyone off guard when they both flick their wands and two bottles of champagne float over before popping open, dousing everyone rather thoroughly with the bubbly liquid, including themselves.

“you guys are fucking getting married!”

“FINALLY!”

it breaks the silence, in a way only nadine and jess can ever manage, and it’s some special sort of champagne (bought from weasley’s) that soaks you to the core but doesn’t linger, and they all find themselves dry within a couple minutes, after lots of grumbling.

dinner comes in soon after, delicious as it always is when it comes from this restaurant, and they all immerse themselves in conversation, talking and getting to know each other better, considering they only really knew the people within their group of ten very well. once their food is finished, they tuck into dessert, and then split to head home soon after.

on their way out, jess and nadine can be heard arguing over the fact that no one had cried.

“i thought it was for sure that saebom would cry —”

“hey!”

“shut up saebom — but no, i thought you��were gonna cry. what the heck.”

“whatever, it doesn’t matter, the bets are still on for the actual ceremony right?”

“yeah, and the reception.”

“i think minseok has ten galleons on one of them.”

“ten? that’s weak from him.”

“will you guys stop betting on my wedding?” a third voice joins in, and the two turn to see megan standing behind them, hands on her hips, though they can see a smile fighting to break it’s way out of the frown on her lips.

nadine and jess both pause, glance at each other as if considering it, before answering in the exact same, sing-songing tone of voice. “no~”

megan sighs, watching as they all disapparate to their respective homes, glancing at her fiance with a fond smile playing on her lips before she leans over to kiss him gently. “why do i put up with them? actually, a better question is, why did i choose them for my bridal party. they’re gonna ruin everything.”

her fiance laughs, tugging her into his arms before they have to separate for the night, just holding her there for a moment. “but you wouldn’t change anything for the world, would you?”

it’s quiet as they both take in the mess in the private room, and it’s with an easy smile that she answers.

“not even for the universe.”

#!drabble #otp:even the sunlight dims in the presence of you #otp:black coffee never tasted so sweet #otp:the path may be a long one but it is sweeter with you #!wc:1832 #why can i never write things that are short and sweet #why do they become monster fics that are 1k+ words #lord #someone stop me #ithis was supposed to be crack

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samanthasroberts · 7 years ago

Text

‘I know their vital stats, their romantic histories’: how Sunderland AFC saved me

For this Chinese Jewish Texan, England was a difficult place to feel at home. But all that changed when she discovered football

Thats shite, man! the man behind screams. The discontent in the crowd is reaching a critical mass. Useless twats, snarls a father below, opening a packet of crisps for his nine-year-old son.

I stand frozen, wrapped up in a scarf and down jacket. Who are we yelling at? Why are we so angry?

Its Boxing Day 2012 and Im at the Stadium of Light in Sunderland for my first ever football match. Its freezing cold; it begins to rain. And then it happens. A Sunderland player fires a shot that creeps past the Manchester City goalkeeper and into the bottom corner of the net. The stadium thunders as a sea of 46,000 bodies fall over each other, total strangers hugging their neighbours, while simultaneously jumping up and down. The man next to me screams so loudly in my ear that Im momentarily deaf. Then he turns me towards him, grabs my shoulders, locks eyes with me and shakes my body. Ahhhhhhhhhh! he screams, in happiness and disbelief.

Ahhhhhhh! I scream back, in fear.

***

When I moved to London, I got a job as a junior editor on a luxury lifestyle website. The site was run by a flamboyant man from Croydon named Carlos, with coiffed salt and pepper hair. Never one to pass up an opportunity to show off, Carlos liked to introduce me to visiting VIPs as our New Yorker who speaks fluent Mandarin and went to Harvard.

None of these things was true. I grew up in a small town in Texas: Amarillo. For some reason, Carlos didnt think this as impressive as being from New York (despite Amarillo being the helium capital of the world and the home of Tony Christies sweet Marie). As for fluent in Mandarin, my dad is Chinese, but I speak only broken Mandarin after living and working in Beijing for a few years. I didnt go to Harvard I was rejected but I did go to a university an hour away. None of these things made sense to Carlos, so he went with his own version.

My exchanges with Carlos were stilted. Our interactions ended in awkward silences. He was twice my age and we had nothing in common. But he was well known in London media circles and I was desperate to get him on side.

After Beijing, I assumed it would be a breeze to assimilate in a country where I no longer faced a language barrier. In China, I had spent a good amount of time miming my interactions. I also had to get used to Beijing locals asking me how much money I made, or telling me I was looking fatter than usual. But it was a bluntness I came to embrace: at least I knew where I stood.

Not so in London. The city was so rife with passive aggression that I didnt know when people were being rude or kind. A woman thanked me on the train for moving my bag and I was almost certain what she was really saying was too fucking right. A man squeezed by me on the escalator and the pitch of his seemingly polite May I? was so snide, it nearly brought me to tears. Carlos asked me if I want to do something for him at work and I wasnt sure if it was an order, a helpful suggestion or sarcasm. The words themselves were unfailingly polite, but it was all in the tone. Other Americans I knew suffered the same way. I genuinely dont know if my colleagues are making fun of me or being nice, a friend from Chicago confessed one night over drinks.

London can be a tough city for newcomers to crack. Compared with the US, people prefer to keep to themselves, especially in public. Im shy, so this was wonderful at first. No one approaches you to chat. I once fell in a crowded street in broad daylight and began the, Im fine, Im fine, honestly protest. But no one had stopped. I lay on the ground, impressed with peoples dedication to not getting involved with strangers. I began to think that I might never find a way to break through the famous British reserve. Would I ever find common ground with Carlos? If only there was some magic key.

And then one day, I witnessed a man bite another man on live TV. This happened during a football match that was on in a pub I happened to be in. I was immediately intrigued: by the biting, the drama, the getting caught, the primal emotion of the incident. I didnt realise it at the time, but this was it: my in.

On a bus, I sat with a couple of friends who were discussing live scores; soon, the entire upper deck had joined the conversation. It was like a portal to another dimension in which everyone was chatty, friendly and open on public transport.

Football was everywhere, it turned out. Once I noticed this, I began to absorb football facts, though only certain things stuck. I loved it when footballers cried. Maybe it was the persistent myth of the stiff upper lip but seeing a player moved to tears, to me, showed he cared more than anyone else. It wasnt like watching an actor pretend to tear up. This shit was real.

I loved any sort of drama on and off the pitch. Family tensions, love problems, scandals, shoving matches; before long, I became a reliable source of useless, soap opera-esque information about players.

I also became a fervent Sunderland supporter. Why would a Chinese girl from Texas living in Highbury, north London, become a Sunderland supporter? Because I had married one. Ian, born and bred in Sunderland, talked about his teams players as if they were his family. That made them my family, too. I knew their names, their shirt numbers, their vital stats, their romantic histories. I was also a natural fit for Sunderland because I love an underdog and by God, I had chosen the underdog of underdogs. The big clubs, with their expensive superstars, were boring to me. Our wins were rare, but they were so much sweeter for it.

I watched televised matches, sometimes without Ian if he was busy or out of town, something that had my friends and family baffled. During visits home to Texas, Ian and I zealously woke early to catch the Sunderland game. My father would observe me, puzzled. My mother, who is Jewish, was also bewildered but said, Well, you were the most athletic of our family of klutzes. It was my childhood best friend Jori who called me out. We were in a Waffle House diner surrounded by grassy plains. I asked Ian if he knew how Sunderlands relegation rivals had fared in their six-pointer, when she interrupted me. Are you talking about British soccer? Who are you? I told her the truth: Im just a girl, standing in front of the TV, hoping a footballer scores a winning goal in the last minute of a high-stakes match and then weeps about it.

A young fan lets rip as Sunderland take on Man United. Photograph: Getty

Do you know who really liked football? Carlos. We soon developed a rapport. Every Monday, hed rush to my desk and wed discuss the weekends matches. He was obsessed with playing style, formations and league tables. Meanwhile, I was the expert on the fights, the crying and the hissy fits. Suddenly, we were friends. He wasnt just my scary boss who got annoyed that I didnt know who Lynyrd Skynyrd were. We were bonding.

They say that to assimilate in a foreign country, you have to speak the language, and now I finally did. Did I make friends from learning about football? I would go out on a limb and say that yes, I did. I made friends with Dave at the Three store when I sat there for two hours after accidentally flushing my phone down the toilet. I bonded with a Ghanaian driver as we discussed a former Sunderland player from his country. In a hotel in the Lake District, there was a communication breakdown with a concierge that ended happily when we both agreed that Diego Costa was a jerk and Jermain Defoe a great goal scorer. When cab rides were too silent, no problem. Lets talk about the match, driver.

***

Dinner in the north-east of England is different from dinner in Texas. Here the food is cooked well-done, the weather is colder and greyer, the company more polite, the table quieter.

Ians dad, brother and uncles are lifelong Sunderland season ticket holders. Ask them a question about what they want to eat, or their favourite movie, or their preference for boxers or briefs, and they will reply, Im easy. Suggest that Jack Rodwell is a decent footballer and they are unleashed animated, passionate, opinionated. I enjoy bantering with Ians brother and dad about football, but we argue a lot mostly because there is one thing I havent been able to wrap my head around since my first game.

After that first Boxing Day match, on the walk from the Stadium of Light to the car with Ian, his dad, his uncle and his brother, I ask the question thats on my mind.

Why do we yell mean things at our own players?

Silence. And then: They just didnt show up. For most of the match, they were bloody awful, Ian says. Good use of we, though, he adds.

But shouldnt we be supporting them? Encouraging them?

Ian shakes his head and sighs.

You know, like being positive and lifting them up? I was still trying to make sense of why 46,000 people would call themselves supporters when they gave the most vitriolic, abusive commentary on their own players. Their support was downright terrifying.

This was your first match, Jess. Weve suffered years of pain while watching players go through the motions. Ive been enduring this for 25 years, Ian says. Twenty-six years, Ians older brother says. His dad: Try 60 years. And finally, I understand the British subtext: You are a wide-eyed idiot.

You got me into this: Jess with her husband, Ian. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

At my high school in Texas, there was a club called Senior Spirits. Senior Spirit members met to boost the egos of our sports teams and rally other students to support those teams. To quote from the yearbook, their mission was to make posters and give our school spirit. In the photo, a group of 20 girls wearing matching T-shirts and ponytails, grin at the camera, 100% heartfelt.

These werent cheerleaders. And they werent affiliated with the Steppers, the ultra-serious dancers who performed at pep rallies, the hour-long ceremonies dedicated to whipping up school spirit. Nor were they the student marching band that played during football matches to help stoke, yes, even more team spirit. Team spirit was like an elusive ghost permeating the school and we all had to worship it.

That spirit was partial to posters with marker pen and glitter, to ponytails, to cakes shaped like American footballs and prayers before the big game. It revelled in exclamation marks. It did not like folded arms and booing and sarcasm. It did not like being called a useless twat.

Apparently team spirit isnt a thing in north-east England. So how do English secondary schools pump up their sports teams? I imagine the halls of these schools are lined with posters of a different sort: You better not screw this up, Jones! and Dont do any of that long-ball shit, Gibbons.

I still struggle with this complete inversion, but it unlocked something core in the English mentality how ingrained the cynicism is, as well as the tendency to proceed from a position of cautious defeat. Expect to lose so it hurts less when it happens, and if we win, no harm done.

Diehard football fans remain sceptical of me. At matches, I ask questions. I get looks when I yell cheerful encouragement. I cant stop shouting, At least you tried! every time a player takes a shot but fails to score. Some have the gall to question my passion for football until I do well at the pub quiz football round. If you love something, does it matter if you love it for all the wrong reasons? Apparently, to them, yes. But one thing was for sure: I was emotionally committed.

In May 2016, at the end of that years season, Sunderland were on the brink of doom, as we are every year. Hundreds of fans gathered at the Old Red Lion in Angel, north London, for one of the last matches of the season. I am 5ft 2in, so I left Ian and his friends and waded through Mackems to get to a good vantage point to watch the match. We were playing Everton, and this would seal everything: would we stay up and relegate bitter rivals Newcastle in the process?

Awaydays at the Drayton Park pub in north London, before taking on Arsenal at the Emirates. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

The first time we scored, someones pint of beer, spilt in jubilant joy and shock, doused my head. On the second goal, the shouts were deafening. On the third, a man threw his arms around me and together we jumped up and down and screamed with pure joy. I left the pub dazed, half-deaf, hair soaked in booze and my face aching from smiling.

I became a UK citizen last year. At a city town hall, I swore my allegiance to the Queen and stumbled through the national anthem with 17 other newly minted UK citizens. But that moment didnt come close to the buoyant feeling of pure joy and belonging I felt in the arms of a stranger as we celebrated the victory of our beloved team. If the root of football passion is said to be a sense of family and place, then this Chinese Jewish Texan has found her new home.

Unfortunately, that home is sometimes a den of pain and despair. By the time you read this, we will have played three Championship matches in the new season. Ian assures me we will not have won one: Sunderland havent won a league game in August or September for four years in a row.

In April this year, we were finally relegated from the Premier League with four matches left to play.

Useless losers! I yell at the players as Sunderland fail to score even one goal. Its all over. Nothing to hope for now, no Match Of The Day to look forward to.

As I shout at the players, Ian pats me hard on the back. Well done, he says. I look at him, confused. Now you know what it feels like to hate your own team.

Commenting on this piece? If you would like your comment to be considered for inclusion on Weekend magazines letters page in print, please email [email protected], including your name and address (not for publication).

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/17/i-know-their-vital-stats-their-romantic-histories-how-sunderland-afc-saved-me/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/09/17/i-know-their-vital-stats-their-romantic-histories-how-sunderland-afc-saved-me/

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allofbeercom · 7 years ago

Text

‘I know their vital stats, their romantic histories’: how Sunderland AFC saved me

For this Chinese Jewish Texan, England was a difficult place to feel at home. But all that changed when she discovered football

Thats shite, man! the man behind screams. The discontent in the crowd is reaching a critical mass. Useless twats, snarls a father below, opening a packet of crisps for his nine-year-old son.

I stand frozen, wrapped up in a scarf and down jacket. Who are we yelling at? Why are we so angry?

Ahhhhhhh! I scream back, in fear.

***

A young fan lets rip as Sunderland take on Man United. Photograph: Getty

***

Dinner in the north-east of England is different from dinner in Texas. Here the food is cooked well-done, the weather is colder and greyer, the company more polite, the table quieter.

After that first Boxing Day match, on the walk from the Stadium of Light to the car with Ian, his dad, his uncle and his brother, I ask the question thats on my mind.

Why do we yell mean things at our own players?

Silence. And then: They just didnt show up. For most of the match, they were bloody awful, Ian says. Good use of we, though, he adds.

But shouldnt we be supporting them? Encouraging them?

Ian shakes his head and sighs.

You got me into this: Jess with her husband, Ian. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

Awaydays at the Drayton Park pub in north London, before taking on Arsenal at the Emirates. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

In April this year, we were finally relegated from the Premier League with four matches left to play.

Useless losers! I yell at the players as Sunderland fail to score even one goal. Its all over. Nothing to hope for now, no Match Of The Day to look forward to.

As I shout at the players, Ian pats me hard on the back. Well done, he says. I look at him, confused. Now you know what it feels like to hate your own team.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/17/i-know-their-vital-stats-their-romantic-histories-how-sunderland-afc-saved-me/

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artsyarchangel-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Gunbreaker

So i read a lot of light novels these days and so i decided to write something in a similar style. It's mostly meant to be a learning experience, purely for fun. Try to see it as that, or don't, not that it matters. The plan is to publish something every month, gradually it will become bigger and bigger. This is the idea at least. I won't really talk about the subject of this Web-Novel, see for yourself. It contains some mature content though and will gradually ramp up in that regard.

But enough of that, just enjoy the little something i’ve written up here.

Chapter 1: Days of Justice 1 Life can be so terribly dull, so very uneventful. Going through the motions, following the daily grind it's easy to just shut off your mind and do whatever you are told. A chosen few will come to detest this truth, but only the smallest number will successfully rebel against it, without being crushed into submission. But some events make you appreciate just how easy life actually is. Events like a sudden shootout, when you find yourself surrounded by maimed corpses, blood splattered all over you in merely a second. Yes, an event like this might cure these childish thoughts of rebellion,of changing the world, but for me, they were awakened. All i felt was uncontrollable rage, like a wild beast unleashed on this world. Not that it mattered, i was only lucky to survive the first barrage and the next one would surely extinguish my life. If it wasn't for the girl, that is. I don't think i ever thanked her for that... The faint blue color of the screen was the only light source in my small room, as i chugged down another can of my valuable energy-drink. Well listen, my allowance was really small at the time and those stupid cans were expensive as hell, it's not like i had an addiction. Anyway, it was another all-nighter for me, watching my favourite shows or playing games together with a few slackers called my friends. I had school tomorrow, but what of it, this useless educational system could go straight to hell for all I cared. Still gonna go in the morning, of course, otherwise my mom would yell at me. Didn't matter, I just slept in class, you could say I mastered this technique over time. No one ever noticed. Because the teachers are stupid, completely retarded. I spent many a night like this, wasting away, basically doing nothing but diminish the energy to actually achieve something in my life. I was 15 though, gimme a break, okay? Now this night, though, this night was special and in many ways it shaped my whole future. As I browsed through meaningless videos, funny threads filled with smart people (who always seemed so much more clever than my dumb teachers) and, of course, I left my own comments, receiving praise in the thousands, by my fellow internet brethren. What joy, I felt elevated, but this happened regularly, so that is not what I am talking about. No, the night was made special the moment I opened another video titled “The truth of the wastelands”. The footage showed a small village, utterly ruined, smoke rose from the roofs while armored vehicles moved into the frame, spilling heavily-armed soldiers out of their guts. Now mind you, this is the first time I laid eyes on supposedly real firearms and it was also the first time I saw a human being die. They rushed into a hut, one of the few unscathed by what could only be an artillery-strike and dragged out a few people, bearing all the qualifications of a family. And then they just shot them, one after the other. There wasn't any sound and the footage wasn't of the highest quality, but the way the bodies, former humans, jerked after having a gun put to their head, made me sick to my stomach. Just then, the screen faded to black, showing only my reflection and my disgusted face. A message spread across the screen:”This video was taken in one of the rural areas surrounding our walled cities. This world is not safe, this world is not peaceful and we do not live in prosperity. They are lying to you. They keep you safe in your cages while they do as they please.” The message was signed by a group named “Hermes”, their logo a pair of red winged sandals on a black background. I never heard of them before, yet I felt like they were right, like they had something to say that needed to be said. Outside of the cities, such horrific crimes took place? Could it be? How was I unaware of that, how was everyone unaware of that? As I read through the comments, I slowly started to understand: “This looks fake.” “lol, take off your tinfoil-hats!” “who are these guys anyway?” “wow, nasty, they just popped her head, lmfao” “Is this real? Then someone should change this! Actually, screw that, I want to change this, I am so mad right now!!” The last message belonged to me, my true feelings, written down by a 15-year-old highschooler. Even today it makes me chuckle and before I could receive any reaction on my comment, the video was gone. I refreshed the page, there was nothing, just the error message. Now I could have just forgotten about it, there were a million reasons why this video got deleted. Maybe it violated the guide-lines of this website, maybe the contents were stolen from someone else, maybe it actually was fake and the administrator tried to prevent the spreading of such bullshit. Or maybe it was all a grand conspiracy and the government themselves deleted the video, to cover up their crimes! You are free to guess what was most plausible in my mind there. Now let me say something to my defense though, it wasn't actually that outlandish. It was like an open secret that you can not leave our five major cities. If you were born in one, you were going to die in this same metropolis. It was commonly known, obviously, nobody could cover up the fact, that the mainland of our planet was a hellish landscape, unfit to any human life. Yet people lived there, apparently and maybe seeing that triggered this anger in me, this self-righteous justice. Everyone else was just lying to themselves, because they weren't the one on gunpoint, they were safe and only later, I understood them. That it was easier this way. You were simply happier and fighting it was futile, you tried to climb a mountain without any limbs. But back then, I didn't see it that way in my youthful recklessness. Ultimately, it really didn't matter anyway. I was helpless, there was nothing I could do to help those poor people living outside the safe zones. There was nothing to be found online, I searched every nook and cranny, stumbling over baseless rumors. One suggested that Hermes was actually the government themselves, luring in stupid teenagers and offing them once they got their personal information. I also met at least a dozen people claiming to be Hermes, but that soon proved to be just trolling. There was nothing left and it depressed me a little, I became distant to my friends, I never replied to their requests to play some games, I was obsessed with that video. How their bodies went limb, how they were meaninglessly slaughtered. Now that was my own interpretation of the scenes, for all I know this family could have been a band of mass murderers and the armed forces only exacted revenge, but in my conviction, I had to save innocent lives. Me, a failure of a student, with no exceptional intelligence to speak of. Really, if Hermes had any sense, they'd tell me to leave as soon as I made contact. Instead, after a week of frantic searches, asking around online, I received a message: “We witnessed your resolve, brother. If you still want to bring the deserved peace to this world, then join us.” 2 Embedded in this simple message was a link. The logical assumption would be that this would either lead me to some fucked up porn or a virus, ready to just disintegrate my entire system. Naturally, I clicked it without a moments hesitation. Nothing bad happened against all odds, instead I found myself in some chat room. They really were serious with me! There was no members-list, no previous message, radio-silence. I felt like I stepped into a hall of heroes, onto the round table itself, only virtually of course. My real scrawny body was still hunched over the keyboard, not knowing what to say, what message I could write. Really, I blacked out completely, I didn't even know a simple online-chat room could feel so awkward, yet here I was, frozen stiff. I typed a simple “hello” and deleted it before I could send it. Then I wrote some eight-grader nonsense of justice and prophecies and thankfully deleted that too. I have enough cringy memories, I didn't need that one...on further thought, does one more on the huge pile really matter? Only then, he finally broke the silence: HERMES: So you want to change our fate, breaking free, destroying the influence of the five Warlords? Tell me, brother, what motivates your actions? Why do you want to join our justice? Yeah, turns out this guy was as much of a child as I was. Of course I replied enthusiastically, but at this point I had no screen-name yet. I thought long and hard about my answer, actually only a minute, I didn't want them to think I just left. ANON: I saw the video you guys published a few days ago and since then, I simply cannot stand by while innocent lives are erased. Please let my join in your noble cause, my brothers, in your pursuit of liberation! I don't know what to say here... I could practically feel how the people on the other side of the screen laughed their asses off...is what I want to say, but in reality, I felt pretty damn proud after my convincing answer. HERMES: Very well. A good answer. Yet we see that you are still unrefined, without a strict direction. Without a plan to actually achieve our ends. Fret not, we are here to guide you in your path, but you have to take action yourself, just as you did before we found you. HERMES: Are you capable of doing that? This is your trial, identify who is responsible for these crimes, we will contact you in another week. And just like that, I was back on my homepage, unsure of what to do. The culprit? The person who is responsible? Or was this about an idea, the motive behind these actions? Come to think of it, why would they turn our planet into an unruly land, where only the strongest survive and the laws are made at the muzzle of a gun? What could be the meaning of this? I had to mull it over and most importantly I could not disappoint these internet-warriors. For all I knew they were just kids, maybe not even a group, some teenager who knew a little more about computers and managed to abuse a security-leak. There was absolutely no guarantee that Hermes was the real thing. It's just that it didn't even matter to me. I was just happy to escape my boring life, to have a sense of purpose so many teenagers are missing. A feeling of superiority filled my very being, I was better than all these blind idiots, lying to themselves just to preserve their peaceful lives. This would all change, I'd fight to birth a new world. Or at least I was about to. 3 The following days I did nothing but research, I even skipped school, coming up with an excuse how terribly sick I am. Maybe I laid it on a little thick, my mother almost send me to the hospital, but the end-result was me sitting in front of my computer-screen, looking up everything I could think of. Some things I looked into were common knowledge, that every one of our five cities were independent states, governed by a prime minister and that there was a big conference every four years. This already struck me as odd, were they allowed to leave the cities? And wasn't it a little to convenient, five cities for five warlords? Surely there must be some sort of conspiracy on a government-level so I dug deeper, I needed to know everything of our administration down to the districtional plane. Needless to say, I found nothing and that in itself was weird. You'd expect a bunch of theories online, some baseless rumors, some insane people dedicating everything to bring some shocking truths to light, even if there is no proof. Hermes wasn't much different, after all. However, I found nothing, like the entire network was curated by some unknown source. It was scary, I seriously considered giving up, who knows what they would do to me... if they could track me. Well, I had a lot of countermeasures against that, at least I thought I did. Hacking or cracking, these were never skills I acquired, so I just relied on some tutorials to set up an impregnable barrier. Feeling safe like that, I naturally continued, but I couldn't shake this bad feeling. The only information I could gather out of direct conversations, groups similar to Hermes, just not as influential or effective. Cause when I mentioned the group, everyone held their breath, metaphorically of course. For the first time, I heard of their reputation, how they brought down the website of the government, putting their logo across the entire screen whenever you tried to access it or how their leader escaped multiple raids on his home-base, injuring the special forces in the process. I never even knew our police had a special force! It was awe-inspiring to me and more than ever, I wanted to be a part of this organization. Again, there was no proof for any of this, only my faith. Surely nobody would do such a terrible thing, just telling lies on the internet. So while I did acquire some information, true or false, no matter, I didn't really feel like inching closer to my goal. What was the reason, how could I find out? In the end I even pinned everything I found on a board in my room, feeling like some kind of TV-Detective. If my parents caught me, they might have send me to the therapist, but luckily they never entered my room without knocking first...for both our sakes. I put down all kind of names, organizations, looking for a link that shouldn't be there, evidence for some sketchy business. The video flared back into my mind, how all life left the body of this innocent woman, but it wasn't just about that, not just a reminder for the injustice I vowed to destroy. No, I looked for something, an emblem, a badge on the soldiers, maybe a number on their weapons, anything I could use. Hermes gave me nothing, our exchange took maybe five minutes, then they send me on my way, to prove myself, but what did they expect? How could a student figure this out, if no one else could? Nobody knew why we lived confined in these cities, nor when it even began. It was lost to history, maybe all accounts of a time before the metropolis were deleted, maybe destroyed in some kind of catastrophe. This was the most likely scenario, that nobody meant for this to happen, just some natural disaster scorching the earth. But if that was the case, Hermes wouldn't fight against...against someone. Who was it, I had to know! The five Warlords, yes, I remembered, but who are they? The deadline was drawing near, tomorrow, at night most likely, they would expect my answer. No sleep was found this night, not until I could come up with something, anything. The most embarrassing thing would happen if I just had no answer at all, if I'd just stay silent. Or spout some generic shit, like “The government” or “the Banks, they are responsible for our misery”. I could not let it end here! So I stayed up all night thinking about it, I continued to rack my brain in the morning, eventually, I couldn't go on any longer and just fell asleep on my desk. The sound of a notification woke me up and there it was, another message. It didn't say anything, which did nothing to ease my nervousness, only provided a link again. The sender was clear though, so there was no doubt, Hermes contacted me just like they said they would. But I still had no answer. Regardless, I had to dive in, of course, always thinking about this video. It was the only definite hint that I had, so the answer had to be in there. Who is behind all of it, what is the reason for the sorry state of our planet? The reason...wait, it could be so simple! HERMES: Now then, Initiate. Did you find the solution to our query? I hesitated, I wasn't sure, it might be too simple, it might even be idiotic. It was all I had, however. With trembling fingers, I hammered my answer into the keys. ANON: The reason these crimes are possible, the true culprit...is the weaponry used by men. This was my answer, this was my solution. I had to wait a while for a response and every second served only to make me more anxious. HERMES:...Weaponry. Very well! This is the first time we heard this answer, yet it strikes closest to the truth, well done! Now let us show you the true works behind our government, our true leaders. Let us talk about the five Warlords.

#creative writing #light novel #web novel #learning #gunbreaker #chapter1 #part1

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