#but since it did make it through the boot sequence a few times it must not be fully fucked? so i am hoping it instead is something fixable.
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i miss my 3ds actually :( it was working fine for years and years and then i dropped it a month ago and it stopped turning on and the frustrating thing is now i cant figure out whats wrong with it. usually the issue its having (blue light, but screen flicker before it actually boots up) means one of the screens or ribbon cables is damaged... but i put the motherboard into my brothers old 3ds to see and it still wont boot :( i thought it was maybe a poor battery terminal connection issue because one was a little bent and with slight pressure on the battery i could get it to boot and stay alive for a few seconds but it has since stopped even doing that no matter how much i try to make sure everything is in its proper place. -_- since the cables didnt change anything and fiddling with the battery did let it boot for a bit it could just be that the entire battery terminal part needs to be replaced and i have access at work to the tools i would need to do that... but i cant seem to find the replacement part online -x-
#THERE ACTUALLY is a single ebay listing that shows up in search with the battery connector part. BUT. when i click on it i get an error. -_-#i should probably bring the battery and 3ds to work and use one of the voltmeters to check the battery and connections..#plus theres probably some sort of power supply at the office with the right output voltage that i could hook up to test that out also...#if that doesnt work i may just have to get a replacement motherboard... but that would mean losing my save data for most games :(#may spend a few minutes fucking with it again to see if i can squeeze any life out of it. i just want to back up my saves...#oh it COULD also be that one of the ribbon cable connectors on the motherboard is damaged. in which case its just fucked#but since it did make it through the boot sequence a few times it must not be fully fucked? so i am hoping it instead is something fixable.#st#WAIT WAIT. THE EBAY LISTING LOADED. its 12 dollars with free shipping so if i cannot get it to boot after fucking with everything else i-#-will probably buy the part and try that#.pdf
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Echoes of the Past - Day 21
Prompt: âWhich is the true nightmare, the horrific dream that you have in your sleep or the dissatisfied reality that awaits you when you awake?â
CW: Torture, Dream Sequence, Neglect
The pain echoed through his body stretched out on an operating table, spread wide like some experiment. His wrists had long grown raw and Logan wasnât sure when he had stopped fighting, it must have been hours, maybe even days. All he knew was no matter how hard he had screamed, no one came. However, it was only once he stopped fighting that the true pain started, a golden thread weaving it's way across his lips no matter how he moved. He let it happen, tears streaming down his face as his lips were sewn shut and his words were taken from him. No one would hear him again.
âThis really is for the best,â he heard Janusâ voice echo throughout the room, but he didn't hear the deceitful side. Logan was alone in this sterile room. âNow that you arenât such a nuisance they will listen to you more.â He could hear Janus walking around a linoleum area, each echo of his boot making more tears fall from Logan's face. âHonestly, I did this to help you. You want your family to love you, right?â Janus suddenly appeared by his side, leaning over him as he spoke. âThey will after this, now that you are quiet, they will care, and you know that's the truth.â
The metal cuffs around Loganâs wrists snapped open and as he quickly reached up to touch his mouth, he realized he didnât have a mouth at all. Fear ran through him stronger than any pain, terror that he would never speak again, never read out loud, or wrap, or sing with the others, no matter how begrudgingly he had done so before. Logan lamented his loss as fear tore through him stronger than any pain.Â
He shot awake in his bed, real tears still streaming down his face.
Logan was quick to feel for his mouth again, and when he realized it was completely intact and there werenât any stitches, he began to relax. He wasnât prone to nightmares, but the past few weeks of being ignored had been difficult on him. This wasnât the first time he had woken in a cold sweat, terrified that his words had been taken from him. Each time was different, graphic, and it terrified him. Sometimes it was Janus, sometimes it was Patton, and occasionally it was even himself, taking away his ability to share knowledge and discuss the world he loved so much. Maybe it was time to tell someone, time to ask for help. He hesitated, not sure if any of the other would want to help, their relationships had all been a bit strained since the wedding, but he couldnât keep going like this.
Even if no one would listen, he had to try.
Getting up, Logan got dressed, hesitating to put on his tie as he remembered another rather vivid dream where his voice was stolen, but after a few deep breaths he was able to secure the knot around his throat and leave his room. Patton would be downstairs cooking and if anyone was willing to listen it would be the fatherly side. Patton had been stressed lately, but he was always the most caring. He was the one who wanted to make sure the others were taken care of. Logan walked into the kitchen, knocking on the wall to get Pattonâs attention.
âOh hey kiddo, whatâs up?â Patton was bustling around the kitchen, trying to get the dayâs meal together but Logan still hoped his question was genuine.
âI had a nightmare I would like to discuss.â
âOh well thatâs good, Iâm glad you slept well.â
Patton obviously wasnât paying attention as he attempted to scramble eggs and cook French toast at the same time. Logan felt his throat dry out. It was hard enough asking for help but repeating himself was so much harder, the weight weighed on him. He wasnât sure if he should tell Patton again or just let it go. Maybe right now wasn't an opportune time. Maybe he should just wait until later.
âHey, would you mind putting the milk back in the fridge for me?â Patton asked, and in that moment Logan's words dry up. He would wait, maybe he would ask for help later.
âOf course,â He answered, putting away the milk and helping Patton where he could. If Loganâs tie felt a little bit tighter, if his hands shook a little bit more, it didnât matter, at least he was helping his family. He would be fine, really, what were a few nightmares?
By the time they had finished, the other two had shown up, and Logan didnât intend on having this conversation in front of multiple people. He had seen in the past how seriously they took his issues. Still the dream nagged at him and he felt his tie tighten around his neck even more.
âThank you for your helped Logan,â
âOf course,â Logan whispered as his nightmare rang through his head, now that you are quiet, they will care. That wasnât the truth, he knew that, but then why did it feel like his nightmare was right?Â
Logan sat down at he chair, barely touching the food that had been made. He hid his hands under the table, trying to hide the way they shook. This was illogical, he had no idea what their responses or reactions were going to be until he spoke up and said something, yet he couldn't find a way to say anything. He found with the echoing voices in his head, repeat after repeat of the nightmares he had been having. Logan felt like he was going to cry, like he was going to burst if he didn't say anything.
He opened up his mouth, looking at the others, but they were already gone. He hadn't even noticed them leaving and now the feeling of being alone sat heavy in his stomach.
Had they even noticed the stress he was under while they enjoyed the breakfast in front of him?
Logan stood up, curling his arm around him as he put his coffee mug in the sink to clean out later. Maybe he would come down later? Each step felt heavy, and since Logan hadn't been sleeping well, he thought he might sleep off the feeling of hopelessness he had.Â
At least in his dreams, there was a hope that they would care for him. In this cold reality he found himself in. Logan wasn't sure that was ever going to be truth.
@simplestoryteller @fantasticfangirl21 @joylessnightsky @melaniidarling @tsshipmonth2020
#Untypical Creations#Sanders Sides#Sanders Side fic#Fanfic#eotp2022#Logan Sanders#Patton Sanders#torture mention#dream sequence#neglect#logan angst
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Of Wolves and Witches
Pairing: Werewolf!Bishop Losa x Witch!Reader
Word Count: 3088
For: covers the monster square for @adarafaelbarba 's moodboard fall bingo
TW: violence and accidental death via a nightmare/flashback sequence, brief mentions of mental, emotion, and physical abuse, PTSD, and covering up a crime scene
Author's Notes: The Mayans Werewolf AU that no one asked for, but i wrote it anyway. It starts out dark, but ends with fluff, I promise. This is my first time writing for Bishop, so please go easy on me... a big thank you to @itsjustmyfantasyroom for letting me run this idea by her and reassuring me that it wasn't crazy, and for encouraging me to write it.
Tags: @madamsnape921; @prurientpuddlejumper; @thatesqcrush; @welcometothemxdhouse; @raulesparza4eva; @teamsladsandgents; @rosequcrtz
He stormed into your living room, rage storming in his eyes. His aura was a swirling void of red and black. He shouldnât have been able to break the locks on your front door, he shouldnât have been able to walk right through your magical wards, but here he was. You straightened your posture and stood your ground, determined to not let him see how terrified you were.
âHow did you get in here?â
âReally?â He pulled a glowing amulet from out of his shirt. âNot that hard when you have a little help. Benefits of having hunters for friends.â
Your eyes went wide as you realized what you were looking at. It was an enchanted amulet, one strong enough to get through your warding. You could only hope that it wasnât strong enough to dampen your powers.
âYeah, thatâs right,â he smirked. âI know what you are. Makes me a wonder what else you havenât been telling me.â
âAlex, get out! I donât want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.â
âYou little bitch!â he spat back. âYou think you can just break up me? You think you can just walk away?
âI can and I did. Weâre done, Alex, itâs over. You donât get to hurt me anymore. Itâs not my fault that your fragile, insecure male ego canât take a fucking hint.â
âBitch, Iâll fucking hurt you whenever I fucking want to! And I donât see your little biker friends here to protect you.âŠâ
Then he charged, and suddenly you were on the ground with his hands around your throat.
âThou shalt not suffer a witch to live!â
You could feel the murderous intent radiating off him, and put your hands on his chest, trying to push him off you, but then you felt the release of kinetic energy through your palms, and Alex was flying across the room. He hit the wall, and you prayed to whatever goddess was listening that the sickening crack you heard was just the drywall breaking behind him. But then his eyes rolled back in his head, and his head lolled to one side, at what could only be described as an âunhealthy lookingâ angle. His lower body twitched a few times before going limp. He hung there for a moment, suspended in the air, pinned to the wall by your invisible force. Still shaking in terror, you finally lowered your hands, and Alexâs lifeless body fell to the ground with a thud.
*********************
âNo!â you cried out, sitting bolt upright on your couch. You were covered in a cold sweat and your whole body was shaking. Your lungs gasped for air and your eyes darted around the room, searching for Alex, but he wasnât there. You werenât even in your old house anymore. You held your hand in your hands and took deep breaths. You were in your apartment, in Santo Padre, Alex was dead, and you were safe. The Saturday afternoon sun streamed in through the window, and the TV was still on, a marathon of Guyâs Grocery Games playing at a low volume.
âI must have fallen asleep,â you said softly to yourself, âit was only a nightmare.â
You grabbed your phone off the coffee table and checked the time. It was only 3:30, plenty of time to shower and freshen up before Bishop would pick you up at 6. You stood, and after checking your locks and wards, made your way to the bathroom.
***********************
Despite your best efforts to push them down, the memories of what happened next came flooding back as you stood under the warm shower spray. You had been in shock, understandably so, but you were now exposed as a witch, and had to protect yourself. The logical side of your brain kicked in and you got to work. After verifying that Alex was dead, you had used your telekinetic abilities to rip the amulet off his neck. A quick examination verified that it had only been enchanted enough to allow Alex to breach your magical wards without getting zapped, but not enough to block your own powers. The enchantment was also crude and amateurish, probably done in haste by someone with limited knowledge of witchcraft. He had mentioned having hunters for friends, and you cursed yourself for not sensing that sooner. He hadnât been one himself. You would have read that in his aura the moment you met him, but you also hadnât sensed his dark side. The mentally and emotionally abusive and manipulative side, the one that turned violent during an argument when you had tried to call him out on his bullshit and break up with him the first time. You had ended up in the hospital, and when you confronted him the second time, you had friends with you to back you up. And after destroying the amulet, those were the friends you called on for help with your predicament.
The Blood Moon Motorcycle Club was a found family werewolf pack, led by Jack Reynard, a fearsome and intimidating Alpha. But Jack was fiercely protective of his friends and allies and didnât hesitate to show up with four of his most trusted lieutenants when you called and tearfully explained your situation. They got to work cleaning up the scene and going through Alexâs phone and wallet. They found a business card for an elite and dangerous organization of hunters, and the contactâs name and number on the card matched up with one of the contacts in Alexâs phone. Jack told you to start packing your bags and to make sure that you included any magical artifacts that you had. You would spend the night at their clubhouse under round-the-clock security, and in the morning, they would get you out of town. Anything that couldnât be packed that night would be shipped to you once you were settled elsewhere. They would dispose of the body; it wasnât the first time theyâd had to do so.
Jack had called Bishop Losa, president of the Mayans Motorcycle Club in Santo Padre, California. Jack and Bishop had served together in the Marines in their younger days, and the Mayans and the Blood Moons were allies as a result of that friendship. The Mayans were another found family werewolf pack and protected Santo Padre alongside the Galindo Pack. The town was a safe haven for all supernatural beings and the humans who lived there were none the wiser.
And now you had been here for six months. You worked in a bookshop owned by another a witch, Matilda, and lived in the apartment above it. In addition to the books, you also sold your homemade herbal teas and did Tarot card readings in the shop. 2-3 times a week you would bake cookies and muffins and sell those in the shop. Your teas were so popular that you now did tea making demonstrations on Saturday mornings. You were thriving but were still plagued by nightmares and PTSD and attended therapy once a week to help you work through your struggles.
And then there was Bishop. At first, the Mayan president and Alpha had been your friend and protector. You had been too traumatized to even think about pursuing a relationship, and so you both denied the unquestionable and inexplicable attraction. The more you got to know each other, the more you were drawn to each other. Two months ago, he finally made a move while the two of you had been outside getting some air at a party at the Mayans clubhouse, asking if he could kiss you. Youâd been a couple ever since.
*********************
You had just finished lacing up your boots when you heard the sound of a familiar motorcycle pull up to your building. You ran to the window and looked down to the street. You saw Bishop getting off his bike and removing his helmet. You exited your apartment and ran down the stairs, meeting him at the entrance at the side of the building. You threw your arms around his neck and kissed his lips. His arms encircled your waist and pulled you close.
âHola Querida, you look beautiful.â
âThanks, youâre not too bad, yourself, handsome.â
That got a chuckle from the Alpha. He removed one of his arms from around your back, revealing the bouquet of roses in his hand. âThese are for you.â
âBish, theyâre gorgeous, thank you. You shouldnât have.â
âAnd pass up the opportunity to surprise you? Not a chance.â
âCome on up. Iâll put these in water, grab a few things, then Iâll be ready to go.â
Bishop nodded and held onto your hand as he followed you up the stairs.
************************
You held onto Bishop as the two of you went speeding down the back roads, away from Santo Padre. You loved dates like this: just you and Bishop on the bike, heading somewhere unknown, away from all the stress and bullshit of the day-to-day. His torso felt warm, sturdy, and safe. You could feel the vibrations from bike rattling through your body as you watched the scenery fly by. Youâd been on the road for at least half an hour now.
âAlmost there, Querida,â Bishop called back. âYouâre gonna love this spot, I promise.â
After a few more minutes he pulled off the road and the motorcycle slowed to a stop. Bishop turned off the engine and stored the keys in his pocket. You both got off and removed your helmets. You looked around at the small, wooded area and smiled, breathing in the fresh air.
âThis is nice, babe.â
âOh, this isnât the spot, âhe told you, unlatching the soft fleece blanket and cooler from the back of his bike. He handed you the blanket. He took the cooler in one hand and grabbed your free hand with his other, interlacing his fingers with yours. âItâs this way.â
You walked for a few minutes down a short path before finally arriving at a grassy clearing. The view was breathtaking. You could see everything from your elevated perched; Santo Padre, the valley, green leafy trees swaying in the breeze, fields of wildflowers. A sense of calm settled over you that you hadnât felt in months. You didnât jump when Bishop came up behind you and slid his arms around your mid-section, instead relaxing into his touch and leaning against his sturdy frame. Bishop softly kissed your shoulder.
âYou okay, baby?â
âYeah,â you sighed, âthis is perfect, this place in perfect. The energy here is so peaceful, and so alive. I love it.â
âIâm glad. I was thinking we could eat dinner, watch the sunset? And wait until the stars come outâŠYou can show me all the constellations?â
You turned and slid your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his.
âYou would have thought that you were such a romantic?â
âJust donât tell anyone, okay? Gotta maintain my tough guy image, you know?â
âMmmâŠyour secret is safe with me.â You pecked his lips once, twice, three times, each kiss lasting a bit longer than the rest. When you finally pulled your head away you noticed that the blanket was laid out on the ground with cooler sitting on top.
âCome on,â said Bishop, directing you over to it. You both sat down, and Bishop opened the cooler and started setting out its contents: sandwiches from the local deli, fresh strawberries from the farmerâs market, giant cupcakes from the gourmet bakery, a bottle of beer for each of you, and bottled water. He popped the caps off the beer bottles and handed you one. âCheers.â
The two of you sat and ate, completely at ease with each other, and the conversation flowed easily. Bishop told you about the dayâs antics down at the scrapyard, and you told him about the business plan you and Matilda were working on to expand the bookshop into the empty cafĂ© next door.
âThe theory is, that having a space to sell food and drinks will drum up more business. I can sell my tea and baked goods and do my demonstrations there. We would obviously need to hire some extra people to help, but I think we can make it work. We canât tear down the wall between the buildings and expand without the proper permits.â
âIâm sure the town will approve whatever permits you need. Theyâre not going to say to ânoâ to something that will bring more business into Santo Padre.â
âWow, you werenât kidding about the sunsets,â you said, gazing at the red, orange, and purple hues of the evening sky. âHow did you find this place?â
Bishop laid down on the blanket and you stretched out next him, placing your head on his chest.
âMe and the guys had just come back from a run,â he began, âThings didnât go so well, and I was pissed, needed to blow off some steam so I just rode around for a while. Next thing I knew, I was here. I shifted, ran around for a while until my head was clear. I come back whenever I need to get away from everything.â
You tilted your head up to meet his gaze. âThank you for bringing me here. I needed this.â
Bishop caressed your cheek with his fingers. âYouâre welcome, Querida. Iâll bring you up here whenever you want.â
âBish, can I ask you a personal question?â
âOf course, Querida, you can ask me anything,â he replied with a chuckle.
âCan I see you in your wolf form sometime? Thereâs no pressure, only if you want toâŠâ
Bishop mulled the question over in his head. You had caught him off guard with the query. None of the women heâd ever been with had asked to see his wolf form, not even his ex-wife. These days, he only shifted when it was absolutely necessary. There were advantages to being an older and more experienced wolf. He could shift at will and didnât have to worry about losing control. But what if you didnât like what you saw? What if he scared you away? Heâd never forgive himself if that happened. Your soft, sweet voice interrupted his thoughts.
âBish, Iâm sorry, forget I said anything- â
âNo, itâs okay,â he kissed your forehead, âI just wasnât expecting that question. Iâll do it if you want me to, but just be prepared, okay? I promise I wonât hurt you, but it might not be what youâre expecting.â
âI trust you completely, and I promise, I wonât be scared.â You looked at his aura and saw the hesitancy there. He was scared. âYouâre not going to lose me.â
He cupped your face with his hand and his lips found purchase with yours. He had a way of kissing you that made your mind go blank and get lost in the moment, and you loved every minute of it. You kissed him back with equal fervor, hoping that somehow you were able to convey the trust and faith you had in him. The smile on his face when you broke away seemed to indicate that youâd been successful.
Bishop rose and walked a few feet away.
âWhat are you doing?â you asked, confused by his actions.
âShifting is a lot easier without clothes on,â he replied with a wink, beginning to undress.
âIâll close my eyes and give you some privacy then,â you giggled, shutting your eyes, but occasionally cracking one open to steal glimpses of his increasingly naked form; and damn if you didnât like what you saw!
Bishop finished disrobing and crouched down on the soft grass. He breathed deeply and cleared his mind, focusing his intention. He felt his muscle start to ripple and his joints and bones shift. It didnât hurt at his age; it was just slightly uncomfortable. All his senses sharpened. Body hair became fur, his hands and feet morphed into oversize paws with razor sharp claws. Even his teeth changed shaped, becoming longer and more pointed. A few moments later, he stretched and shook out his fur. He looked over towards you, still sitting there with your eyes closed, and cautiously padded toward you.
************************
You could hear the footfalls of his paws, and then felt his large wet nose nudging your arm. You opened your eyes and saw a massive wolf standing before you. His fur was brown and black, with specks of gray in various places. His legs were strong, and his paws appeared large enough to take out a person with one blow. But his eyes, his eyes were gentle, and you would know them anywhere.
âOh, Bishop, youâre beautiful!â
He sat and cocked his head to one side, appearing confused.
âYes, you heard me correctly. May I?â You held out your arms to him. Bishop bowed his head and leaned forward, allowing you to embrace him and bury your face in his fur. âYour fur is so soft!â
He put his head on your shoulder and let out a contented groan when your fingers began to massage the spot right between his ears. You giggled at that. âI take it you like that, huh?â Bishop lifted his head and licked your face in response, making you laugh even harder. You massaged his head for a little while longer before resting your forehead against his. âThank you for letting me see you like this. I love you, Bishop.â
There was suddenly a very naked, human man in your arms. Bishopâs hands cupped your face, his eyes scanning it for any indication that he might have misheard you.
âBish- â
âSay that again, Querida.â
âI said, I love you, Obispo Losa.â
Bishop pulled you into his lap and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with more intensity and tenderness than he ever had before. Any doubts that you may have had about him not feeling the same quickly melted away. It went on for what felt like forever before the two of you had to pull away and come up for air.
âI love you, too, mi reina.â
You held onto one another like that for while before Bishop got dressed and rejoined you on the blanket. You spent the rest of the evening wrapped in each otherâs arms and gazing at the night sky. And when a shooting star passed overhead, you made a wish that you could stay this way forever. No more looking over your shoulder, no more nightmares; just you and Bishop, ready to take on whatever the future might hold.
#adarafaelbarbaseptmeberbingo#bishop losa x reader#bishop losa#mayans#mayans mc#mayans fandom#mayans fanfic#bishop losa imagines#werewolf au#my writing
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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 19, part one
(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)
Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!
Chilling in Yiling
We start off with Wei Wuxian hanging out in a busy area of Yiling, which is a really dumb place to pick for a fugitive rendezvous. Â
He's wearing a fashionably distressed brown robe, and a woven disguise hat, that makes him invisible to his enemies until the moment he takes it off, kinda like the mask he wears in his second life. Unfortunately he is a polite boi so he takes off the disguise hat when he goes indoors to get a bite to eat, and promptly gets smacked down by Wen Zhuliu.Â
Xiao Zhan's stunt double is really good at this wire-pull+table-smash move; this is the second time Wei Wuxian goes crashing through a table (the first one being when Yu Ziyuan was beating him). This time he clutches his now core-less abdomen, in a move we're going to be seeing a lot of, going forward. Abdominal surgery is a bitch. OP can personally attest to this.
Wen Zhuliu provides some comic relief by looking at his hand in puzzlement; he clearly can tell Wei Wuxian has no golden core, but he isn't going to bother telling Wen Chao that.
Wen Chao gloats and steps on Wei Wuxian's hand while Wei Wuxian stares at his shoe and OP wonders, not for the first time, how they make rubberized zig-zag treads in Ancient Fantasy China.
(more after the cut)
This is all happening in the Yiling Wine house where Wei Wuxian will later share the most important meal of his life, the one in which A-Yuan lays claim to Lan Wangji, ultimately giving LWJ a reason to live long enough for Wei Wuxian to be resurrected. If that doesnât deserve a good Yelp review, nothing does.Â
Dream a Little Dream of Me
While Wei Wuxian gets ready for his big whump scene, Jiang Cheng is dreaming, and looking absolutely breathtaking in this deceptively simple robe, that's made of a really complex fabric, that catches the light all over its surface. Â The lighting here is warm and romantic, giving everything a nostalgic glow.
He looks around the courtyard in his dream, and sees Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian come running in the gate carrying kites.Â
A child fetching a kite was the first casualty of the Wen attack on Lotus Pier, so this image may already be a little fraught for Jiang Cheng. In this initial image of his family, Jiang Cheng isn't present as a child, but then his junior self comes running up, to be warmly greeted by his mother.
Jiang Cheng's reaction to the scene playing out in front of him is not a simple one. We've seen him externally expressing his trauma at the fate of Lotus Pier and his family - his anger and his despair - and this dream shows us his private, interior trauma.Â
His body has been repaired by Wei Wuxian and the Wens, but his psyche has not.
This family interaction can't possibly be one that ever happened. It's too lively, too affectionate, too comfortable. The family he was part of as a young adult was cold, angry, cracked. Â Families don't change that much in 10 years, unless there's a major trauma that alters things in a fundamental way.
Even the glimpses we got of his childhood contradict this image. This warm group is not the family of "I sent your dogs away" or "wait in the cold until Jiang Cheng lets you in" or "I won't tell Clan Leader Jiang what happened" or "I'm only 11 but I'm in charge of soup and bedtime already"
Jiang Cheng smiles at the affection he sees enacted in front of him, but quickly moves to grief. When a toxic person dies, you don't just lose the relationship you had with them; you lose the hope for a better relationship. Perhaps Jiang Cheng has always imagined this version of his family; now nothing like it can ever come to be.
The pleasant scene vanishes into nightmare, as his mother starts bleeding from her eyes, ew. This is like Nie Mingjue when he qi deviates, but dream Yu Ziyuan is perfectly chill about it.Â
Jiang Cheng is not perfectly chill about it.Â
He turns around to see Lotus Pier burning. When he turns back, his family has been replaced with Wen Zhuliu, who is particularly gleeful as he reaches into Jiang Cheng's chest and melts his core.
Jiang Cheng wakes up on the mountain, alone (as far as he knows), and quickly stands and boots up his new golden core.
It's purple, because of course it is. King. The nightmare is gone and he smiles, maybe for the first time since the attack on the pier.
In a moment that is probably going to feel really embarrassing in hindsight, he kneels and bows toward the mountaintops to thank Baoshan Sanren, who is totally not there.Â
Wen Ning, on the other hand, is there, although we only see a little bit of his belt and robe as Jiang Cheng walks off to Yiling to meet his brother. This entire plotline walks a very weird line in which the audience is told just enough about whatâs really happening to be confused, but not surprised.
Do the Whumpty Whump
After some initial roughing up, Wen Chao has his dudes stand Wei Wuxian up so he can question him without actually getting any information out of him at all. They take turns calling each other dogs, with Wei Wuxian saying that when Wen Chao talks he just hears a dog barking. (Of course if he really heard a dog barking he'd be terrified)Â
Then he says "isn't that right" to Wang Lingjiao, and Wen Chao gets super pissed; don't disrespect me to my woman.Â
He has his minions do a Nancy Kerrigan to Wei Wuxian's knee and then kick him for a while.
Then they kick the shit out of the camera operator.
Wen Chao is really not about fighting his own fights. Â He also keeps threatening to have Wen Zhuliu melt Wei Wuxian's core, and Wen Zhuliu keeps popping up his hand and then putting it back when Wen Chao changes his mind, which gets more hilarious every time I watch it. Feng Mingjingâs physical embodiment of Wen Zhuliu is endlessly entertaining, even in scenes where he has literally no lines.Â
I Ainât Afraid of No Ghost
Wei Wuxian continues to goad Wen Chao, telling him that more torture is good because then he'll die with loads of resentment. He says that after he dies, he will come back as a ferocious ghost, which is...almost exactly what happens, except he stays alive for the ferocious part.Â
They go back and forth about the feasibility of this whole haunting plan. Wang Lingjiao is the voice of reason, for once, arguing the "ghosts aren't real and anyway fuck this guy" position.
Wen Chao thinks that he canât haunt them because of cultivator security hardening procedures soul-calming rituals, but Wei Wuxian wasn't born into a gentry family so didn't have the anti-fierce-ghost treatment that other cultivators get.
This is the only time in the whole of the show when Wei Wuxian says, himself, that he's the son of a servant. He's using his reputation as a commoner to bolster his threats.Â
Wei Wuxian is working hard to put on a scary-guy persona, which works pretty well on Wang Lingjiao but not as much on the rest of the group. Three months from this time, however, he will have become the scary, vengeful creature he's currently spitballing about. He will also become way, way better at torture than the people who are currently mistreating him.Â
Wang Lingjiao and Wen Chao go through a whole sequence of ideas about what to do with him. For whatever reason Wang Lingjiao doesn't insist on chopping his arm off even though she's been craving it for ages.Â
She does gleefully burn his burn some more, causing it to bleed directly into the giant obvious bag he has hanging from his belt leaking resentful energy. Which the Wens do not take away or search.
Wen Chao, incidentally, starts calling him Wei Ying during this encounter, which is rude of him. Tch. Finally Wen Chao decides on a plan, which involves sword-flying effects so terrible that no soul can survive them.
Jiang Cheng is looking for Wei Wuxian in town, wearing a woven hat like Wei Wuxianâs. This...is not a disguise. If you want to be inconspicuous, maybe take that giant piece of silver off of your head.
He hears random people talking about the Wens being in town, and then he apparently looks up at the sky and sees the Wen dudes flying on their swords with Wei Wuxian, but it looks so ridiculous that Jiang Cheng's mind cannot process what he is seeing.
While they "fly," Wen Chao delivers a massive brick of exposition about the burial mounds, while Wei Wuxian looks genuinely frightened. The VFX of random, undifferentiated mountaintops and clouds do nothing to sell this menace, but the exposition is actually pretty good, creating a real sense of disturbance and threat.
Then they toss him in, and we go from the terrible VFX of sword flying to a visual effect that they mercifully did really well throughout the show - the black resentment smoke. This time it catches Wei Wuxian and holds him for a few moments, before dropping him the rest of the way to the ground. It also apparently pulls the turtle sword out of his belt bag, but we don't see that part.
They Say That Every Man Must Fall
Having seen Wei Wuxian at his lowest point (so far) and dream Jiang Cheng also in deep distress, we go to the Dafan Wen sibs, who have also reached a breaking point. Because they helped Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, they are traitors to their clan - unquestionably so - and are being punished for it, with Wen Ning having been tortured in addition to being locked up.
I see my light come shining From the west down to the east Any day now, any day now I shall be released
You know how Lan Xichen successfully argued for Wen-Clan-Member Meng Yao's life and status, because Meng Yao betrayed Wen Ruohan to help them? Even though Meng Yao killed a bunch of Nie guys? Wen Ning and Wen Qing also betrayed Wen Ruohan and helped the Sunshot Campaign, without killing a bunch of guys. They should have been treated as allies by the four other clans, but they got diddly. Â
Iâve Been Dead Once
We return to Wei Wuxian in the burial grounds, where he's lying on the ground surrounded by resentful energy and by strained, desperate voices calling his name. This whole sequence is remarkable, since it effectively communicates the horror he's experiencing, through little more than Xiao Zhan's face and good sound design.
I hang around dying to be tortured You'll never be alone in the bone orchard
The voices call four versions of his name. A variety of voices call him Wei Wuxian, Wei Gongzi, and Shixiong, which (I think) is what the young Jiang disciples would have called him. And in the midst of those voices, Lan Wangji's voice, low and calm, saying "Wei Ying." Upon hearing that Wei Wuxian starts to drag himself up.
For a show with definitely no zombies in it, they sure do use the visual language of zombie films for Wei Wuxian's first motions after hitting the ground. Starting with twitching fingers, then gradually pulling himself halfway up and crawling, lurching across the ground. Wei Wuxian comes slowly back to life, the very first member of his army of the dead.
He makes his way across the ground toward the floating turtle sword. Along the way he accidentally grabs the world's most bowlegged thigh bone; the lack of sunshine in the burial mounds puts the skeletons at risk for rickets. Â All of the skeletons in the show are exactly what you would expect from the practical effects team that made the demon hand and the animatronic dog.
The turtle sword is roiling with resentful energy, and is talking to Wei Wuxian as he crawls toward it, asking if he wants revenge. And what a coincidence, he DOES want revenge.Â
He grabs the sword and plunges it into the ground in an explosion of resentful energy. (Ground: why you gotta take it out on me?)
The sequence ends with the most compelling, ominous shot of Wei Wuxian's face...a new man.Â
Soundtrack: 1. I Shall Be Released by Bob Dylan 2. Beyond Belief by Elvis Costello Â
Writing Prompt: The Day Wei Wuxian arrived, from the POV of a Burial Mounds ghost.Â
#fytheuntamed#the untamed#the untamed gifs#the untamed meta#cql#restless rewatch the untamed#canary3d-original#my gifs#wei wuxian#burial mounds#jiang cheng
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HASO, âTake Me to Your Leader.â
I hope you guys are all having a great week, and I hope you enjoy the read.
Captain Kell sat in his room's boots up on the small desk space as he watched the news report filtering in from over the feed.
âEarly this morning the chairwoman of the UN has announced a state of emergency and launched a formal investigation into the attempted assassination of the GAâs Admiral Vir. This all comes in response to the announcement by UN president late last night that they were unable to identify connections to any internal terrorist organizations after a woman was caught attempting to assassinate the Admiral during one of his speeches two months ago. The failed assassination was thanks to 25 year old marine Angle Ramirez who dove in front of the bullet for his commanding officer, and is now (as his family claims) fully healed and back to work. Since the incident, GA and UNSC leaders alike have encouraged Admiral Vir to stay away from earth as much as possible and remain on his ship until further notice. At a request from one of our journalists yesterday morning, he agreed to a statement from his ship the Omen.â
There was a flickering on the screen as a face appeared on the news feed. It was, somewhat from a distance, and the lens seems grainy from radiation interference, but the man seen was tall and blond and had one green eye though he was wearing an eyepatch. Captain kell thought he looked a little more lean than the admiral, but it was hard to tell with all the distortion.
When the man began to speak there was something missing in the voice as well, but it would hardly be noticeable.
There was a knock at his door and he quickly threw his feet down from the desk walking over to throw the door open and step outside into the hall. Angelo was waiting for him there and without saying a word the two of them walked down the long hallway and to the planning room.
Mace was still discussing with some of the other men and women there., and Geea and Beatrice were still loitering at the back.
Captain Kell couldnât keep the distaste from his thoughts as he looked at the two of them. There was a prime example of toxic love if he had ever seen it. The two were clearly partnered or, at the very least, dating, but he had never seen two people who enjoyed pissing each other off as much as they did. WIth them there was plenty of jealousy and mistrust to go around. And as for Geeaâs views on Drev religion, well they were backwards to say the least.
He had seem the same sort of fanaticism in certain shamed drev generals after the war, radical, and suicidal almost in nature.
She had no real idea what the meaning of the new law was.
As soon as he walked in the two women turned to look up at him, their arms crossed over their chests. Beatrice was playing with some big ass knives like that was likely to impress anyone, but really all he saw was some crazy asshole whose parents probably didnât give her enough attention when she was a kid.
He sad down at the table.
Geea leaned forward expectantly.
âSetting course/â
He turned his head to look up at her, âYes, setting course to whatever cesspit of corruption spawned you.â
Geea pulled back, âExcuse me, but we hired you for a job, not for insults.â One of her hands reached for the weapons on her belt, but Noble stepped forward spear at the ready. He was a good foot taller than she was, and he knew for a fact he was probably a better warrior. He had a natural talent for it.
He leaned back in his seat, âYou hired me for a job and now expect me to fling my dead corpse at the Omen like my ship is going to be able to handle that.â he shook his head, âYou hired me which means we are going to do this MY way, which means we are going to do it quiet, and we are going to do it proper. That means NONE of this comes back on me. If we show up at the omen right now and bust down their doors, we are going to get atomized by two platoons of marines and an entire clan of Drev. LEts not also forget that the Admiral Isnât exactly going to be easy to just kill.â Captain Kell waved a hand wildly, âHe has a fucking Drev SAINT on his crew, that is hardly something I think I want to deal with.â he shook his head, âNo no, this is going to take me a lot longer to plan, and it is going to require a lot more material that I donât already have.â
Geea bristled in impatience and indignation.
âI am not going to throw my life away for this mission, and if you want to push that, than I will throw you out of the airlock faster than you can say, âplease captain, please I was just being a whiny little bitch.â The room was silent around Geaaâs seething, but he paid her no mind. She didnât exactly scare him.
She was a minor player in the black market at best, and the way she moved told him she was no great shakes as a warrior either. Probably used to fighting humans so developed a habit of using brute force to overcome them with her height. As for Beatrice, he had a feeling that she made up for skill mostly in unpredictability and sheer fury.
Anyone can look scary if they scream real loud and flail their knives at you.
The way their crew behaved was enough to tell him as much. No one on the ship really respected them, and Geea ruled mostly out of ear, her men were not as loyal to her as she thought they might be, and he had a feeling that, for the right price, he could buy them off if he wanted.
He rested his palms flat against the table before him, âYou understand if I am going to do this I am going to need all the right equipment. You want the man gone but I want it to look like some freak disappearance The last thing my crew needs is the long arm of the GA down on our heads.â he shook his head, âNo we need to do this strategically, and we need to do this quietly, and we are going to start by getting the tech we need to pull this off without being seen.â
He turned to look at the two of them, âI am assuming that you two know where I can get those sorts of thingsâŠ. Under the radar.â
Geea crossed her arms over her chest, âAnd YOU donât. You are a pirate after all.â
âYeah, I generally tend to STEAL from other people and sell it to middle men. I donât generally tend to buy any of the goods.â
Geea stood, waiting for a long moment before finally uncurling her hands in annoyance, âFine, Fine, but we make this quick.â
He nodded his head once and motioned her to continue on following her up and to the bridge where he watched her set a course.
He tried to make it look like he wasnât watching her, but in the back of his mind he was quickly memorizing the coordinates that he saw appearing on screen. Granted he did have a bot installed that should copy it for him, but you can never trust technology to do exactly what you expect it to do.
When she was done, he moved forward and slid into the Captainâs chair, familiar with the machine as he prepared it for a warp sequence.
Despite him being very familiar with this ship, more than one time he found himself accidentally reaching for controls that werenât there. He cursed his muscle memory, though he forced the ship into doing what he wanted, alerting the crew to the imminent warp before he could accidentally kill one of them by sheer freak accident.
Geea watched him from behind.
He knew she didnât much like him.
That was fine by him. She wasnât exactly the kind of person that he would want to be liked by.
They came out of warp a few moments later with a hard lurch through the internal dampeners were doing their job to avoid smearing him across the front windscreen like window pizza.
She walked up to stand beside him and rested her hand of the chair, the gesture reminded him of someone else, and it felt wrong to have her do it, though he tried not to show his discomfort.
âJust beyond that asteroid.â
Captain Kell raised an eyebrow. This was all very interesting. Here he was thinking they would end up back on Noctopolis, for he had been sure that that was the hub of all pirate activity in the universe, but he guessed not. As they came around another asteroid, his eyes fell on a large chunk of rock that must have been over ten miles wide in his shi[s estimation, and from here he could already see the hive of docking ports and extending protrusions built into the rock.
He blinked in awe at the glittering blue lights and the hive of activity surrounding the massive asteroid.
Ships flew in and out through open docking bays landing here and there on extending arms. Good were moved by silent crane arms through space as add ons were constantly being made by men in space suits scurrying over the rock. The palace wasâŠ. Amazing at the same time it was an absolute disaster of engineering. You would never see something like tat made by the GA or UNSC, but from here he could see plenty of influence from all parties.
As they flew closer, they were absolutely dwarfed by the massive rock, and itâs protruding arms. All around him he saw human building techniques, and Tesraki logos stamped on almost everything as they moved forward. Massive viewing screens were all around them doing advertisements on things would would never have seen on a location run by UNSC or GA interference.
The one to his right was some sort of bootleg pill for weightloss, while, on the other side, someone was advertising some kind of flamethrower. The screen above that was giving the specs for the newest design in railgun technology.
His eyes were wide as he stared at all of it, and his heart began to race fast inside his chest.
Now THIS was awesome.
Being a space pirate sure did have its perks.
Over the radio feed static rolled in and out as the broadcasts from the different advertisements tried to pick up his frequency.
But one voice came in clear and crisp above all others, âUnknown aircraft. Identify yourself.â
âThis is the Infinity requesting docking.â
There was a momentary pause over the other end of the line, as their ship was likely scanned before, âDocking permission granted, please proceed to hanger E docking space 6.â
He did as ordered, flying his ship down to the entrance of the docking bay, where he was ordered to slow, and then a large mechanical hand grabbed them around the hull and pulled them further into the asteroid.
They were dragged inside a ways, though he could definitely have flown in himself, and eventually sat down on E6.Â
There was a sharp jolt as they made connection with the airlock, and he stood rom his spot, turning and walking past Geea and towards the cargo bay where his men were waiting. He looked at them each in turn, making slow eye contact with them.
âYou know what to do?â
There was a nod as they recognized the true words behind his eye contact, and they quickly moved into pairs of two discussing which piece of âequipmentâ they were looking for. It likely wouldnât take them long, but he didnât expect that part of their mission to take that long anyway.
Following after them, he was accompanied by Geea, Beatrice and Noble as they walked out into the tube and finally, into the absolutely massive atrium of the hidden Pirate city.
He had to stop, he just couldnât help it, it was like nothing he had ever seen before, and his mind just couldnât wrap itself around the massive room full of people and billboards and holograms. There were railed transports on the floor, and there were vendors selling strange food at every turn. It might have been any normal metropolitan area if it werenât for the sort of advertisements for weapons, and strange illegal creams.
There was one place that was advertising body modificationsâŠ.. With a ten percent discount if you got the limb removed with them as well.
On another wall someone was advertising a new mechanical eye. The technology hadnât been released to the public yet, but the featuresâŠ. Well the features were amazing. He found himself dragged in and rendered mostly stunned. They had him hooked by the first demonstration.
He wanted a cool new mechanical eye.
But Geea grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him, âArenât we supposed to be doing something.â
Angrily he frowned and held up a hand turning on her with his eyes narrowed.
He prodded her in the chest in a show of dominance towards her. Letting her know that he wasnât afraid of being insulted or intimidated by someone like her. To him she was nothing.
âLook, Iâm not stupid. I know that this genius little assasination attempt wasnât your idea, so right here and right now, you better take me to the asshole who set you up for this is you can color me gone. I donât work through third parties.â He prodded her in the chest again with one finer, âI donât trust them.â
The Drev stared down at him with absolute rage and consternation.
âDonât touch me.â She hissed.
He prodded her again, âJust try and stop me.â
She reached for his hand, but he caught her by the wrist and twisted it. He knew the way Drev joints worked, so he knew exactly what NOT to do. She howled in pain and Beatrice moved forward to help, but a spear to her throat by Noble was enough to stop her in her tracks.
âShow me your boss, or your girlfriend becomes a kabob, your choice.â
There was a sharp growl and finally Geea agreed, taking her hand back with some measure of pain and annoyance, âFine, fineâŠ. Follow me.â
She stalked away grumpily and Noble kept an eye on beatrice as the were led further into the station.
The captain kept his head turning this way and that distracted by the bright and colorful ads, advertising things that he wanted, and some things that he didnât.
To his surprise, more than once he saw advertisements for Iron eye Knockoffs. He would have dared get a procedure done on this back alley asteroid, but it was still quite shocking. This air of shock continued along with him as he was led down through the darkness and into the tight passages and tunnels of the Asteroid.
Eventually Geea stopped in front of a door and knocked once.
The camera above the door whirred and looked down at them. Geea waved to it and with a hiss it finally opened.
They were led into a small waiting room with pristine little couches as if he was expecting to see a doctor at any moment, but after a few minutes of sitting another door opened and they were allowed through into the next room.
Geea told him to stay put as she was led behind yet another door.
Not to be left Behind, Beatrice followed after, giving him the opportunity to slip over to the door and quickly deploy a small circular camera which used technology unknown to him to see through the door.Â
It streamed directly into his fake eye as he closed the real one, and glanced around the room.
He could hear voices, and enhanced the sound of his implants.
âDid you get the assassin.â
âYes, but there have been some, hiccups.â
âWhat might that be?â
âHe is insisting on meeting his employers.â
The voice seemed almost bored with the idiot pirates, âThen let him meet someone, he doesnât have to know. Jerah over there will do just fine.â
He turned his fake eye towards the source of the voice falling on some sort of hologram. He quickly looked up just as Geea was turning back towards the door.
He managed to make it up to the personâs face, a Rundi, how str-
Then he froze in shock and disbelief.
Geea reached towards the door, and it was only with a swift movement he was able to pull his camera away in time an leap from the door as she stepped from the room.
He tried to keep the horror and shock on his face in check as he was led into the room to meet his âemployer.â
He didnât care though.
He knew the truth.
There was plenty of evidence on that camera. Evidence that the chairwoman of the GA had ordered his assassination.
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can you write jangobi - they have to team up together to save their dumbass kids??? and maybe their weapons get switched around so obi ends up shooting people with jango's westars and jango ends up stabbign people with the glowy murderstick???
(such a cute concept!! more mandalorian weapons flirting, more obi being a chronic âsaber-dropper, more boba absolutely whooping anakinâs ass at hand to hand â obi really needs to step up the training there. i put this in the jarâkai canon divergence (first part here) because this prompt had interesting parallels. you get a whopping 2,000 words!! still not over lightsabers being called âglowy murder sticksâ fandom peaked like five years ago and also IâM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG i was going to write this on friday and then fiori and i got into it about dha karâta and iâm ruined. anyways have some competence kink.)
  "We really must stop meeting like this."
  Jango growls and slams a new charge into his blaster, like it will prevent him having to turn around and acknowledge his newest headache. "I don't need your help, Kenobi," he grits, as he dodges a piece of the falling ceiling and ducks behind the barricade block Kenobi is crouching against, hands as loose as the smile on his face.
  âOh, no, Iâm sure you have it well under control.âÂ
  An explosion rocks the warehouse, clouds of duracrete dust whipped into their faces by the evening wind; Jango is thankful for his helmetâs respirator, but Kenobi doesnât even seem bothered. Theyâre in the middle of karking nowhere in the industrial district of the planetoid Odos, where no one in their right mind is outside after midday for the wind storms, and Kenobiâs appearance confirms Jangoâs suspicions that this mess is jetiise related osik.
  âWhereâs that foundling of yours?â Jango demands, popping up over the barricade to take a shot at the scaffolding where a human bounty hunter had managed to get the drop on him.Â
  Kenobi hums and closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the barricade like the building isnât currently threatening to come down on them. âI imagine heâs about where yours is. Iâm sorry to say that it seems Boba has been caught up in my padawanâs first mission as a knight.â
  Dropping back down next to him, Jango has to resist putting his westar-34 to Kenobiâs head. âThat seems to be going well.â
  âYes, well, you know Anakin,â Kenobi says easily, smiling wider as he opens his eyes. He raises a brow at Jangoâs blaster aimed suspiciously in his direction, but there is no fear in his expression, and Jango wishes he had the time to show him just why there should be. And then out of left field Kenobi asks, âYou have two of those, yes?â
  And Jango doesnât know what the kriff to say to that. Are jetiise even allowed to use blasters?Â
  He glances down and notices that Kenobi doesnât have his jetiiâkad on his belt or in his hand, not a visible weapon on him, and suddenly the hiding behind a barricade makes a lot more sense.Â
  âWhereâs your âkad, jare jetii?â
  Kenobi sniffs in offense, tugging Jango to the side to avoid a blaster bolt fired from above. âWell, thatâs hardly fair, I did have it, before your friends upstairs blew up the wall.â Jango just growls and takes out the âfriend upstairsâ, watching with satisfaction as they drop three stories to land in a heap on the duracrete.Â
  Kenobi looks impressed, stirring something warm in Jangoâs chest, like his stupid heart wants to do anything to keep that expression on his face. So of course Jango burns the thought and tells his heart to shut the kriff up.
  âOnly until I get Boba back,â his mouth says without his permission, yanking his second westar out of its holster and holding it out to Kenobi grip-first. Heâd be concerned about the jetii using mind tricks on him if he didnât still have his beskar helmet, but heâs tempted to still shoot him anyways.
  Every year under Jasterâs tutelage screams at him as Kenobi takes the blaster, oh Force he hadnât even let Sheeka touch his westarsâ
  âOnly until we get Boba back,â Kenobi agrees, a strange pinch between his brows as he looks down at the blaster for a long moment. Then he switches off the safety and itâs like nothing had ever crossed his face as he smiles cockily sideways at Jango. âWell, shall we?â
-
  Jango comes to learn that Jedi arenât forbidden from using blasters, but he sees why they shouldnât.
  Kenobi cleans the scaffolding of four Odos weapons dealers in a single burst, ducking in a fluid motion to dodge the counter attack before popping back up, firing Jangoâs westar exactly as itâs meant to be: in ferocious volleys that would melt other blasters. And the implication that Kenobi has had experience with multiple kinds of blasters makes his throat go dry.
  Crouching back down, Kenobi clicks out the charge pack and slips a new one in, that Jango hadnât even seen him take from his belt. And then the jare karking Jedi jumps over the barricade and sprints for the humans knocking their way into the warehouse.Â
  Jango finally gets his head out of his ass and says kriff it, following Kenobi over the barricade and kicking his jetpack into flight, covering the crazy Jedi from above. Not that Kenobi seems to need it, easily alternating between the westar and hand to hand, moving almost too fast for Jango to be sure he doesnât accidentally shoot him.
  An absolute hulk of a Weequay manages to clock Kenobi in the face, sending him skidding back a few feet before Jango can put a blaster bolt through his head. Kenobi wipes his face on his sleeve, smearing blood on the white of his armour, and itâs as if every Mandalorian thatâs ever marched away* is screaming âthis one!â in Jangoâs brain; he nearly flies into a column and decides itâs safer to be on the ground until he can somehow get the image of an angry, bloody Kenobi out of his head.
  No sooner are his boots on duracrete that a human yells and throws himself at Jango, and they must be smuggling spice as well as weapons if they think trying to use their fists against full beskarâgam is a good idea. The human goes down in three hits, just in time for Jango to see the Weequay get another lucky blow, shooting Kenobiâs shoulder to make him drop the blaster.
  Jango!â Kenobi shouts, dodging the Weequayâs fist, and oh, theyâre on a first name basis now?
  But Jango tosses him his blaster like sharing weapons on the battlefield isnât frowned upon for being too intimate, and watches Obi-Wan fire from his left hand with the same ease as his right, before Jango has his own Weequay to worry about.
  Itâs only when both he and Obi-Wan manage to push their assailants back enough that they all spill out into the freighter depot that Jango realises he now only has his vibroblade and flame thrower, the latter of which he canât use without having to worry about Obi-Wan.
  âWait,â Jango says, kicking a human in the chest and sending them flying. âWhereâs that commander of yours.â
  âAh,â Obi-Wan winces, somehow having the presence of mind to both shoot and look guilty. âI should technically not be helping my former padawan on his mission.â
  Another dumbass father, then. Jango snorts, using his jetpack to hop across the depot and stop a human from running away, sticking them through the throat with his vibroblade. âThen why the kriff are you here?â he taunts, and then immediately almost gets shot, because Obi-Wan laughs and shouts,
  âBoba called me!âÂ
  Jango curses every Kyrâtsad commando and Jedi he can remember the name of, because itâs their fault his life has played out in a sequence of events that has somehow landed him here, noticing Obi-Wanâs âkad on the ground and picking it up. Itâs a little charred and could use a wash, but doesnât appear to be broken.Â
  He doesnât have time to decide if he plans on hurling it back to Obi-Wan before a vibroblade is shoved in his face, barely missing scratching his visor, and Jango doesnât think as he flips the jetiiâkad on, relieving the human of their entire arm.Â
  Oh, he likes this weapon.
  The beskad is not Jangoâs favourite weapon by a long shot, heâll take distance weapons over up close and personal any day, but he canât deny the effectiveness in such situations where heâs stupidly given and/or thrown his blasters to a kriffing Jedi. Fairâs fair, he supposes he gets to use Obi-Wanâs weapon until they find Boba, equal exchange and all that.
  Heâs just thankful there arenât any other Mandoâade around to witness it.
-
  When the ground is littered with bodies and every muscle in Jangoâs body screams for rest, Obi-Wan is staring at him.Â
  He still has the westar, held loosely enough that the Odus winds buffet it to match the hair that Obi-Wan had cut since their last meeting. He watches Jango with a complicated expression from several yards away, dried blood on his upper lip and Jangoâs blaster in his hand, and those taab'echaaj'la Mandoâade* are yelling at him again,Â
  Jango powers down the âkad and breaks them from their reverie, Obi-Wan blinking back to himself and offering Jango an unsure smile.Â
 âIs it safe now?â
  Jango startles at Bobaâs voice and quickly searches for the source, only letting out his breath when he finds his boy peeking down from the hatch of the fighter closest to them. Obi-Wanâs foundling pops his head out of the same hatch, and Jango shouldnât even be surprised anymore.
  âObi-Wan!â Anakin says cheerfully, swinging down from the fighter to trot over to his former master, his new knight hair looking rather unfortunate all stuck up with blaster smoke like that.Â
  Boba follows easily, not looking even a little bothered by the dayâs events and comes to stand next to Jango while Obi-Wan frowns at Anakinâs fresh black eye.
  âAnd whatâs this?â he questions, reaching up to Anakinâs face before the foundling shrugs him off.Â
  ââRan into Boba. He didnât recognise me.â
  âHe was wearing a mask!â Boba protests, making an aborted gesture to the bodies of the weapons dealers and scowling. âHe needs to learn more hand to hand combat.â
  Obi-Wan laughs at that, then seems to realise heâs still holding the westar and abruptly stops. He clears his throat and quickly brushes the dirt from the blaster with his robe, then spins it around to face Jango grip-first. As if he hadnât just cleaned Jangoâs blaster in front of both their younglings.Â
  Boba looks between them quickly, lips parted in surprise, and Jango really doesnât know what to tell him. So he does the only thing he can think of and wipes the soot off Obi-Wanâs âkad with his cloak, closing the space between them to hold it out to him pommel-first.
  Obi-Wan blinks, looking from his âkad to Jangoâs face, and, well, that certainly answers the question of him being aware of weapons courting. Jango takes his westar back and holsters it, still holding the âsaber expectantly as Anakin stares insead at Obi-Wanâs limp right arm.
  âMaster, are you bleeding?â
  Something icy lodges in Jangoâs throat, but doesnât get the chance to repeat the question as Obi-Wan looks down at himself and promptly tips forward into Jangoâs chest with a muttered,
  âOh, goodness.â
  Anakin yelps and leaps forward to help Jango catch him, and Jango really wishes just about any other Jedi had saved him from the Bando Gora, because they wouldnât give him heart attacks.Â
Mandoâa: jetiise â Jedi pl., sing. jetii jetiiâkad â lightsaber, lit. âjedi saberâ jare â someone taking a life-threatening risk, not a compliment; similar to kamikaze but not a direct comparison. beskarâgam â Armour made of beskar, âMandalorian Ironâ that was actually probably a steel alloy. Kyrâtsad â Death Watch, lit. âDeath Societyâ beskad â traditional curved Mandalorian saber Mandoâade â Mandalorian, lit. âChild of Mandaloreâ
*based on the Mandoâa word for the dead/deceased âtaab'echaaj'laâ, or âmarched far awayâ, best explained in the Mandoâa tribute to dead comrades, ânot gone, merely marching far awayâ. the idea of Mandalorian ancestors gets sketchy when lineages arenât like. a thing. but yeah, every Mando thatâs walked the path is telling Jango to climb Obi like a tree.
#crispy writes#prompt fill#jangobi#jango fett/obi-wan kenobi#jangowan#ask#anon#prequel trilogy#clone wars#tcw#oh man this one was fun#mando'a#weapons courting#mandalorian culture#obi-wan kenobi#jango fett#boba fett#anakin skywalker#not sure what to call this divergence#competence kink#sharing weapons as a form of flirting#whether intentional or not#ask box is always open!#*sings* read mores can eat my aaaaaass#weapon courting au
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Couldn't stop thinking about your post about accidentally sending boobies pics to the guyd so I'll add this for funsies:
Another one of your long work shifts just ended. The life of a prohero was as they said, jampacked with action. You had seen it coming, knowing that even though the hero training at UA was tough, it was nothing compared to the line of herowork you chose. Being born with a powerful quirk both had it's advantages but also left high expectations of you.
The material of your hero outfit is rubbing uncomfortably against your skin as you make your way to your apartment. The lights turned one in a sequence after you rounded the corner and lit the hallway up enough so you could spot the small package left by your door. An ounce of excitement surge through you as you remember given yourself permission to treat yourself with a gift... or a few.
After closing the door and taking off your high tech boots and carefully placing them aside you make your way to the sofa. The package seemed in well condition, which is what you would expect of an expensive brand. You took out your phone and snapped the girls from high school a quick pic of the awaited box. They of course knew about it, as it was both their idea and they also helped you pick out what would fit you best.
Even though the excitement was eating up at you, you prepare yourself with a shower first. Stepping out of your work attire feels relieving and you spend a great amount of time letting the hot water pour over your sore muscles.
As you step out you decide to simply letting the towel stay tucked around your body. You come back to several snaps expressing the girls' need to see it on you asap and asking you to send pics.
To be honest, sharing revealing pics wasn't something you usually contributed to. Not that you felt weird about it. You always hype up the other girls. Something about taking pics in what could be considered lewd positions was embarrassing to say the least.
You open the neat box and underneath the layers of wrap is several bikinis and bathing suits all in bright neon colors. Thanks, Mina. You pick up one of the more decorative ones and try to find what's up and what's down.
You check out yourself through your camera and find the green swimming suit with holes on either side of your ribcage to be quite flattering for your physique.
You take a simple pic angled from above so the girls can see the whole attire while giving a teasing peak of your cleavage.
A few seconds go by and you get spammed with both texts in chat and pics of the girl making exaggerated faces to show their support. Messages of encouragement to show more of them also arrive to your phone and you can't help but giggle at their attitude.
After sending a few pics with simple poses to the gc and getting an overwhelming amount of compliments and praise you find it in you to play around with the skimpy bikinis, purposely not tying the straps and having the hang loose across your collarbone.
You open a snap that mina sent to the gc. She's showcasing a new homemade iced coffee with the text "having to quench my thirst after seeing y/n".
You tap to send back a pic of your untied bikini top that is hanging over the skin beneath your tits now. Your crane your neck to show off more of your bare skin and place heart emojis over your otherwise free nipples and hit send.
You sit back to enjoy their hopefully shocked reactions but you only get one single reply from Uraraka.
"how long can it take to put on a bikini?? đ"
The response confused you. You remember hitting send but had it not gotten to her yet? You check the chat to see if it was still sending but... why wasn't it showing that you had sent a snap?
Your thoughts were interupted as a notification pop up saying "Local Plug⥠replayed your snap again"
What....??
You go back to the chat page and watch as a new snap show up in another groupchat you have with your other hero associates and also former classmates. It's a group chat Mina and Denki started in your last year of high school cause they thought to bring their best friends together and it's been active ever since.
You think back to the last few minutes of confusion and fear the worst. You take a deep breath and click upon the unopened snap.
A picture of Denki's recognizable hair placed at the bottom of the screen and his headboard with his posters in the back pop up on your screen. You read the text above his head that says "WAUW đđ and here I thought you couldn't get seexuer đ„đ„đ„". That's... could it be? Did you accidentally sent it to the wrong-
Another snap comes from Mina in the same chat. "Sharing with the boys too I see". And another. "Remember I called dips first".
Not long after comes one from Sero. "Was about to ignore the sudden spam but wowie I'm glad I chose not to
Are you sending more or are we gonna have to admit this picture to memory?"
You are in shock to say the least. You sit still and stare ahead while imagining their reaction to getting a nude from you out of nowhere. But is it a nude? I mean, you covered your nipples.... You at least didn't bare yourself completely. Can you play it off?
All kinds of thoughts are jumbled in your head as you receive even more snaps, supposedly discussing you disappearing as quick as you showed up.
Oh god it's gonna be so awkward when you meet again. Well, Sero and Denki would occasionally discuss sexual topics between themselves, but what about Kiri and Bakugo? Oh nonono. Hopefully Bakugo didn't strive off from his usual bedtime at 8 pm otherwise you would not have a lot of time to come up with an excuse. But then there's Kirishima. Sweet and tender Kirishima. He's often teased for not persuing women the same way the others do. What a shock it must be for him to suddenly see you like that.
You open the new snaps and you can't help trying to rid yourself of those haunting thoughts. The suggestive comments didn't help the growing heat between your legs. "Leaving us just like that, princess?" "What a tease" "I bet she's busy playing with herself to us" "You guys should have seen how she fronted herself to the girls" "she's prob making a mess of her new bikini"
Your cheeks are heating up more and more by each message. You are sure that you no longer could send any pictures without giving your flustered self away. Not that you were going to! Something about these messages leave you wondering if they have had an interest in you before this incident. You would be lying if you said that you hadn't had instances where you would be thinking of them when you were playing with yourself. Is it the same case for them?
- I'm sorry I'm gonna be stopping it here đ€ it got reaalllllyyyy long and this is such a bad place to leave on a cliffhanger oOF
Thinking bakugou đ„”đ„”đ„”đ„”đ„” oops sorry bakugou
Didn't mean to send my massive milkers to you and Kirishima đ
Omg Nonny this was great thank you so much!
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Hellsing Liveblog Ch. 35-40
This is the one-part âXanadoâ, and the five-part âFinal Fantasyâ.Â
So last time, we saw a Millennium team led by Rip Van Winkle take control of a British aircraft carrier, which forced Hellsing to send Alucard to deal with the situation.  He accomplished his mission, but now heâs stuck on the boat by himself, because vampires canât cross running water.  I suppose Hellsing would have arranged a second aircraft to pick him up, but theyâve got bigger problems on their hands.  Just as Alucard finishes off Winkle, reports come in of communication breakdowns all over Great Britain. Military, intelligence, police, all out of reach. Integra recognizes this as Millenniumâs next move.   By taking out the communications networks, they ensure a clear shot for their invasion force to move in.  But how did they pull this off?
Simple, they did it the same way they arranged all those vampire attacks during the summer, and the Valentine assault on Hellsing Manor, and the Brazillian Police raid on Alucardâs hotel suite, and Lt. Winkleâs takeover of the H.M.S Eagle.   They convinced a bunch of Brits to betray their country in exchange for being turned into vampires.  The only real surprise here is the sheer breadth of treachery this time around, as Millennium must have created dozens of sleeper agents throughout the country, each tasked with hijacking or sabotaging key defense systems. And Vice-Admiral Penwoodâs command is no exception.   Those a-holes who gave Integra a hard time earlier?  Turns out they were in the tank for Millennium all along, and now that the invasion force has arrived, theyâve revealed their true colors.  At first, theyâre pretty thrilled to have captured Integra Hellsing herself, but she calmly informs them that theyâre minor league vampires at best, and theyâve foolishly revealed themselves in the presence of expert vampire hunters.
And Walter calmly slices them all up with his magic wire powers. Cool.
But thatâs not going to stop the one thousand vampire soldiers currently heading into British airspace.  I think the most striking visual in this part of the story are the expressions of sheer excitement on these guysâ faces. Theyâre just so thrilled for whatâs about to happen, and when you consider how long theyâve waited, it only makes sense.  Itâs almost infectious, until you recall just what it is theyâve come here to do. Â
Meanwhile, Alexander Anderson watches the Millennium blimps roll in.  Oh, right, I forgot about him.   Back in chapter 25 he was still in Brazil, trying to locate Millenniumâs HQ, but all he found were human agents trying to stop him, which he found rather insulting.  Then Maxwell contacted him to explain what he learned from the summit with Hellsing, and he ordered Maxwell to come to London in preparation for a great crusade.  But unlike the Crusads of old, their enemy is not Allah, but Mars, since Millennium is so devoted to war.  Anyway, Andersonâs here and ready to rock.
Meanwhile, the people of London finally spot these blimps rolling in, and itâs pretty horrifying stuff.  Weâve already seen the carnage that can be wrought by a few vampires, and now itâs a thousand vampires, and theyâre all Nazi soldiers to boot.  The sense of dread here is just palpable.
Aboard the flagship (flagblimp?) the Major starts giving his men their orders, and they even have a stupid invasion handbook for the occasion.  Warrant Officer Schrodinger lost his and has to share with the Captain.  I suppose this is intended to alleviate the tension, except, no, it really doesnât.   These guys are all horrible monsters in every sense of the word, and theyâre about to do awful, unspeakable things.   Schrodingerâs comic relief moments only make it worse.
The Major gives an extra-long speech for the occasion, basically outlining all the buildings and people in London that he wants his men to destroy (tl;dr: âall of themâ). He then assigns Lt. Zorin Blitz to take one of the blimps with a contingent of men and head for the Hellsing mansion on the outskirts of town.  She figures thatâll be an easy gig, since Alucard is away, but the Major warns her not to underestimate Integra Hellsing or Seras Victoria.  He doesnât exactly explain his concerns about Seras, but the mere fact that sheâs Alucardâs servant is probably reason enough to be mindful, and Integra is Alucardâs master, and she comes from a long line of vampire hunters, so the Major considers them both to be archenemies on the same level as Al himself, despite their inexperience.Â
So the Major explicitly orders Zorin to go to the mansion but not to attack.  Her task is to observe an wait for the Majorâs order.   This will be important later.
Then the Major orders a bunch of V-1 and V-2 rockets launched at London.  I mean, geez, were the hundreds of vampire soldiers not enough? Did he think he needed to soften the city up first? Â
Then the troops jump out of the blimp to begin their assault. They look like theyâre parachuting down, but I donât think any of them are wearing parachutes, since they shouldnât need them. Itâs almost pathetic the way they talk to each other with all of this professional military talk and congratulating each other on a successful landing.   London is virtually defenseless and this is a slaughter, not a battle, but theyâve been psyched up for this for 55 years.
Back at Penwoodâs base, Integra warns him to flee before the main invasion force arrives, but Penwood insists on remaining at his post.  He confesses that heâs completely incompetent, and he only has this position because of his inherited title, but he refuses to abandon his duty, since thatâs the only honorable thing he can do.  Integra leaves him a gun with silver bullets and wishes him well as she heads for her own duty.   Penwood orders his men to evacuate, but they refuse, since Penwood canât actually operate any of the equipment here.
So now we get an extended sequence of Milennium marching through London, basically sacking the city and slaughtering anyone they meet.  This is accompanied by the lyrics to âAkuma Stockingâ which I think was used in the anime adaptation as well.  Thereâs a lot of gory scenes here, but the three main visuals that stuck with me in the anime are these:
First, this motherfucker eating a baby.  Â
Second, all the Londinian civilians they bite end up rising up and transforming into ghouls, who then join in the slaughter.   Itâs easy to forget about ghouls at this point, but Millennium never forgot.  Their artificial vampires canât turn virgins into new vampires, and I think that may be by design.  They were counting on their victims rising up to compound the horror.  Â
Third, just a lot of bayonet-usage going on here.  Youâd think theyâd be content to bite and shoot people, but these guys seem to enjoy hoisting up their prey to show them off.  Itâs a horrific nightmare and thereâs no end in sight.  Â
Integra and Walter speed home as fast as they can, but they stop to take out a Millennium soldier in a shootout with London police.   She canât save the cops, but she does avenge them.
Back at the Naval base, Penwood sends out a final transmission as he expects the enemy to enter his post at any moment.   His men are all dead, with the last one shooting himself to avoid becoming a ghoul. He tells anyone who can hear him to resist and do their duty.   Then he recalls his first meeting with the young Sir Integra.  Back then, he found it ridiculous that a 12 year old should be in charge of Hellsing, but she quickly puts him in his place, and established that she would be asking him for favors from then on. Â
But Penwood wonât be granting any favors to the Kraut bastards who storm his post. Instead he sets off the explosives they set up earlier and I guess they all die together.  I wouldnât have thought an explosion would kill these vampires, but they are a lot less formidable than Dandyman or the Valentines.  Luke couldnât regenerate his foot, for example.
When Integra shot that one vampire, she gave away her position, and now Millennium is on her trail.  Just when it seems they have a clear shot at escape, someone blocks their path, and Walter tells Integra to take the wheel and find another route.   Heâs going to stay behind to fight this guy, but he doesnât think he can hold him off for long.
Integra does as he asks, but orders him to return alive âat all costs.â  Hmm.
Walter uses his wire power, but it turns out this is the Captain, and heâs apparently powerful enough to foil his attack.   Walter recognizes him, presumably from when he and Alucard fought the proto-Millennium in the 1940s.
And then the Major flies along in his blimp and confirms it.Â
Meanwhile, Integra gives the Last Battalion a merry chase, but eventually she crashes the car and seems to be cornered. One asshole tries to get closer to finish her off, but she decapitates him with her sword.
His comrades accuse her of being a âsore loserâ and tell her to give up, but she mocks them all for being cowards who surrendered their humanity. Sheâs hardcore, sheâs hardcore.
But before she can fight all these vampires alone, somebody comes along and throws a bunch of blessed bayonets at them.  These did a number on Alucard and Seras, but they didnât cause any lasting harm.  Seras was even able to pull them out without too much trouble.  But this shithead just disintigrates on the spot. Remember, the Last Battalionâs main advantage is their number.  Individually, theyâre not terribly impressive, at least as vampires go.
But yeah, itâs Alexander Anderson, along with his two sidekicks, Heinkel Wolfe and Yumiko Takagi, the stars of Kouta Hiranoâs earlier manga, âCross-Fireâ.  Weâve seen Heinkel in Hellsing before, but I think this is Yumieâs debut here. They chastise Anderson for interfering, since they were only sent to observe, but Anderson is too fired up by Integraâs fighting spirit, and he wants to kill some vampires, dammit.
Turns out thereâs quite a few of these Iscariot guys here, maybe all of them, but Anderson starts doing a whole routine with them, as they chant all this stuff about how theyâre assassins in the tradition of Judas, the disciple who betrayed Christ. Iâm not sure I get much of this, but itâs nice that Hirano put some thought into Section XIII as the super-secret death squad of this fantasy version of the Vatican.
And thatâs all we have for now.  Â
#2021 hellsingliveblog#hellsing#sir integra hellsing#alexander anderson#walter c dornez#seras victoria#sir shelby penwood#the major#the doctor#warrant officer shrodinger#the captain#zorin blitz#heinkel wolfe#yumiko takagi
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his side, her side | 5:00 p.m.
genre: angst/fluff/implied smut;Â (bold = genre for this particular drabble)
pairing: reader x jungkook;
length: 2.5k;
synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.
a/n: this is not a chronological series; more so, his side her side is a collection of drabbles in which each drabble helps paint the overall picture. each drabble can be read separately without having read the others. // alternatively: his side, her side pt. 2;
her side;
Musicâitâs a magical force lying somewhere between evil and good. The closest form to humanityâs long-sought time machine, it merely takes a simple sequence of three notes for the winds to blow, for the skies to set and the clock to rewind, until you find yourself warped in a fragment in time unreachable by all else means.Â
Truly, itâs an otherworldly craft, one that comes and goes, not on a quest to fulfill a beckoning, but rather, on a quest of its own whimsical accord. In forethought, you were thankful for such an uncontrollable phenomenon that could defy even the grasp of time; but it doesnât take you more than three ephemeral months of infatuation for you to look back in horrifying awe at the way something so hauntingly beautiful could revive even the faintest of memories you had once misperceived as long buried in time.Â
And the secret to such a double-edged sorcery?
Willingly or reluctantly, you would soon find out.
<<now playing: i like me better - lauv>>
It all started on that treacherous night midway somewhere between the breezy fall and the frostbitten winter, when the sun prepares for an early slumber and the skies drape a blanket of impending starry darkness, that your fickle heart embarks on a trek of no return. Temperate leaves color the brick road a spectrum between red and orange. Its crunches under your boots accompany the bass of an upbeat track youâve been blasting throughout summer âtil now. With a dipped head and a pair of hands buried into the depths of your pockets, the world is made aware of your one-way-ticket to hellâor, in other words, work.Â
5:00 P.M.Â
Whew, just on time.Â
A sigh escapes your lips in a puff just as the windâs chill on the upper half of your face barren of a scarf dissipates under the hands of your companyâs heater. Eyes like darts and lips grumbling incomprehensible curses, itâs apparent to both you and your chattering colleagues that this is the last place you would like to spend a Tuesday night. You scan through the meeting room cluttered by numerous two-seat desks and make your way to the corner of the room where no one could bother your already ruined evening.Â
Sure, itâs extra pay, but who holds project meetings at 2 P.M. and 5 P.M. in the evening? To make it even worse, why did your supervisor have to assign you to the latter, the worst time slot of all?
Pulling out your phone, you scan through your phone to pull up the list of participating colleagues that your supervisor had sent out last week.Â
One scroll, two scroll, yup, not a single person you knowâoh, well, if that isnât a surprise. His name rings a bell, one that leans closer to good than bad: Jeon Jungkook; because even though itâs been a name you havenât muttered since exactly one year, where you had beckoned for the reclusive boy to sit next to you and your friend and he had the audacity to refuse, you can sigh in relief because now you have someone else joining you in the aloof club. Other than the first friendly words you had spoken to him at the cafeteria and the once-in-a-blue-moon tips you had given when he sought for your help, you havenât exactly befriended that man despite the more than coincidental bump-ins throughout the company building.
Wouldnât it be funny if maybe, just maybe, fate pairs you with him on the basis of feigned happenstance for just one last time?Â
If thereâs one thing you find amusing in this life-draining room, it would be the mugshot of an ID photo displayed next to his name. Lips grim and eyes looking into the camera, his picture must have been an exact mirror of your expression if it werenât for your chuckles at the moment.Â
He just doesnât give a damn, huh?Â
âY/N,â your supervisor points at a table in the center of the room, smack in the middle of other encircling tables, âthat tableâs off limits. Could you move to this table?â
Nodding, although reluctantly so, you pick up your belongings and start your trek to the middle when you lift your head only to spot the very subject of your snickering; because there he is himself, Jeon Jungkook walking into the room, fashionably late as always, and eyes scanning through the filled room. Reaching the desk, you glimpse through your peripheral vision to quickly come to the conclusion that a few chairs remain unoccupied⊠one of which is right next to yours. Itâs unlikely that he would choose to sit next to you, out of all other seats, right? Considering he had so adamantly refused to take your offer for company last year?  Â
But no.Â
Swiftly but unhurried in that nonchalant, indifferent mien of his, he seats himself right next to you.Â
âI know there are plenty of other places you would rather spend your evening at, trust me,â your supervisor announces, âbut please utilize this time to introduce yourselves to your partner and get working on the project.âÂ
Keep calm, Y/N, you tell yourself as you slowly turn to face your partner, donât let him figure out that you rememberâshit, does he remember rejecting your offer last year? It was supposed to be a friendly gesture and nothing else! He doesnât think youâre into him, does he?
Jungkook stares at you. Eyes peering down at you, lips too lazy to even put on a friendly mien, and face emanating of giving no fucks, it seems like an eternity has passed as he waits for you to speak first. Or at least it seems like an eternity to you.
Is this really the same guy your friend told you she found cute?!
â...I think I already know your name,â you deadpan, trying to put on an equally apathetic front.Â
Finally, he smirksâand when he does so, you think something has your heart jolting. What was that? Judging by his ongoing impression, heâs probably just another cocky bastard. Born with the looks but maybe not so much with the smarts, he must be all up in his head. He must think youâre smitten. He probably doesnât even remember your nameâ
ââY/N,â he greets you, cracking a crooked grin.Â
What was that again?Â
The next hour passes by in the blink of an eye. Your supervisor proceeds to explain the project albeit poorly so, but all you can remember from that day was you shrinking away at the sight of the boy beside you through the corners of your eye. Having forgotten his existence until now, you havenât realized just how much has changed between you two. Just a year older and heâs already popped his own bubble, opting for tank tops and gym shorts instead of his conservative hoodies and slim jeans from last year⊠probably eager to show off those newly built muscles of his. Remarkably, heâs probably also grown tallerâbecause now, he stands a good three or four inches taller than you. A year must do a lot, seeing how heâs changed from the reclusive boy to an equally reclusive man, and you begin to wonder if heâs noticed the changes in you, too.
Focusing on your supervisorâs wrap-up for the day, you donât notice just how long Jungkook has been staring at you with those unreadable eyes of his; and when you finally do, turning your head and peering up at him with quizzical, wide eyes, he smirks.Â
âWhat?â you cinch your brows.Â
âNothing,â he insists, despite how much harder he starts snickering.
âWhat?!â you gawk, mouth agape in full offense but lips curled into a cheeky smile for who knows what.Â
Do you have something on your face? Does he think you stink? You donât know why but your face begins burning beet red.Â
âNothing!âÂ
He only laughs harder, the corners of his eyes wrinkling and the apples of his cheeks rising along with the wide grin he slacks openâand at that moment, staring at him in a momentary awe you would recall for as far into the future as a distant year, you marvel at the sight before you.
Has he ever smiled this hard before? Youâve never seen him like this, even with the few friends he had. Or is this a sight others have yet to witness?Â
Nowadays, when your playlist goes on shuffle and you stumble upon that one melancholic winter beat meant for feverish summers, the expired ache in your heart returns with vengeance.Â
But in that moment, you were hoping for forever and that was your first mistake of many. If the walls of your heart had managed to fend off many others before, then why did you not listen to the sirens in your head at that very moment? After all, you shouldâve known that devilish grin of his lethal charms meant he was only on a search for something temporary.Â
Embarrassed and ashamed, itâs been a year later and you still canât listen to that particular song without recalling the moment you fell too hard, too fast.
Maybe, just maybe, you once remarked to yourself, Tuesday evenings wouldnât be so bad after all.Â
-
his side;
This is the dumbest shit Iâve ever had to attend, Jungkook mentally curses with the roll of his eyes as he strolls into the building. The sweat he had shed after hitting the gym had long been washed off after a quick shower and the forfeit of the relaxing winter chills in exchange for the companyâs heater only ticked him off further. With a water bottle in his hand, he tosses the plastic wrap of his protein bar into the trash. He then draws the door wide open with utter ease in his hands and a one-way-ticket to the playground in his heart.Â
Great, not only does the supervisor forget to send a list of participants, but now that heâs finally here to see for himself, he scans through the room, there isnât a single person he recognizesâwell, maybe not.Â
âY/N,â Jungkook watches as the accursed supervisor points at another desk in the middle of the room, âthat tableâs off limits. Could you move to this table?â
Why the fuck put a table there if itâs off limits, then?
In the corner of his eye, he notices the girl rise from her seat, although begrudgingly so, before trudging toward the other desk. Meanwhile, Jungkook had just finished his prolonged entrance into the room, skimming through the room with just one thought on his mind: get. me. out. of. here.Â
Well, thereâs really only a few seats leftâhell, why is everyone literally an hour early? Itâs either he sits at the back of the room, where he could slack off and honestly would have preferred, or he sits at the very front with someone heâs somewhat familiar with.Â
Does she even remember him?Â
Jungkook doesnât really give a damn, for his feet has already begun its trek toward the empty seat beside her. Judging from the few interactions he had with her, she never really seemed to take a liking to him. She was friendly, no doubt, but maybe too friendly. She probably even realized her own unnecessary benevolence, for Jungkook recalls the multitude of times she had purposely ignored his presence ever since that one time he declined the offer to sit beside her in the cafeteria. Now, she probably saw him as the dumb guy at work who asked her too many questions.Â
Maybe now heâll finally get a chance to really know her.Â
The supervisor babbles a bunch of shit, and before he knows it, people are chattering again and Jungkook mentally cursed at himself for zoning out. Turning around, he looks down at the girl beside him. Is it just him or does she not look too pleased? Well, not that he really cares. Itâs not like sheâs acquainted with him, nor is she obligated to smile.Â
â...I think I already know your name,â the girl mutters.Â
Oh, so she does remember, Jungkook canât help the lopsided grin that escapes onto his lips.
âY/N,â Jungkook utters simply, returning his attention to the front of the room where the supervisor continues speaking and failing to notice the look on his partnerâs face.Â
The next hour passes by dreadfully slowly. In fact, it takes Jungkook everything not to rest his head on the table and ask Y/N to wake up from his nap once the supervisor was done. Instead, his mind wanders elsewhereâŠÂ
Why did he sign up for this again? Oh, right, he needed the cash, and this time fits perfectly after his gym sessions.Â
Why did he choose this seat then? Well, beats him. Something about his constant run-ins with Y/N has even him, the most indifferent of them all, scratching his head. Itâs almost as if this is fateâs own way of begging for him to give her a chance.Â
Does she actually hate him? Still, Jungkook wouldnât mind either way, although he wouldnât say he isnât curious. Considering how she still remembers his name, however, something tells him she doesnât exactly despise him, and thatâs a bit of a relief. Why? Well, no, he doesnât really care. Really.
Sheâs changed a bit, Jungkook remarks as he turns to take a look at his partner. He recalls her long locks from orientation as well as the beginning of the year when she had cut them short. Now that another half year has passed, her hair had somehow returned to its original length⊠or to whatever extent of a difference a boy like Jungkook could notice. Sheâs gained a bit of weight, or maybe thatâs because sheâs bundled underneath all her winter layers as compared to the halter romper he had first seen her in at orientation. Either way, she looks⊠different, perhaps a year more mature. One thing that hasnât changed though, he observes as he watches her devote every ounce of attention on the rambling supervisor, is her undeniable work ethicâŠ
...maybe thatâs why he caught wind of a certain nerd, Taehyung, crushing hard on his infamous partner who had ghosted the poor boy.Â
And yet, here he is, Jungkook muses with a half-smile, sitting next to that very infamous girl.Â
Something about that thought gives him power and he canât quite pinpoint why.Â
âWhat?â she says a bit more offended than he would have expected.
âNothing,â he says truthfully, because to him, there really isnât anything to say.Â
What? Is he supposed to apologize for staring?Â
âWhat?!â she repeats.Â
The confusing mix between offence and laughter that plasters across her reddening face only amuses Jungkook further; and at that moment, he figures thereâs something oddly satisfying about teasing this girl.Â
âNothing!âÂ
The boy doesnât notice it until heâs already burst into laughter, a full leap beyond his usual chuckles done out of social obligation, but heâs actually laughing. Mouth agape, teeth showing, eyes squinting into crescents, he really doesnât know what heâs laughing at and he doesnât really care that others are staring at the two of you.Â
Hey, maybe gym sessions arenât the only form of entertainment heâll be looking forward to on Tuesday nights.Â
#bts scenarios#bts x reader#bts angst#bts smut#bts fluff#bts scenario#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#bts x you#bts imagines#jungkook fanfic#jungkook imagines#jungkook scenarios#jungkook scenario#bts fanfic#bts angst scenario#jungkook angst scenario#jungkook fluff scenario#bts fluff scenario#wouldn't it b funny if i tagged this as seagull#seagull scenario#HAHAH
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Tale As Old As Time
Draco X Gryffindor!Reader
Part One   Part Two   Part Three   Part Four  Â
Part Five   Part Six   Part Seven   Part Eight
Part Nine  Part Ten
Summary: The Yule Ball is finally here and maybe just once you get to be the princess in a fairy tale.
A/N: Guys, guys, this chapter IS SO SWEET AND SOFT AND IâM ASDKJDADGAD anyway. Hello to those of you who are new! I love you all so much (and if anyone would like context or a visual for this chapter see Cinderella or ya know your favorite Disney princess dance sequence... there are so many) I love you all! Please let me know what you think! Also catch this on AO3 soon!!
Tags: @un-limiteddd @geekysimmerthings @coffee-addicti @ilikestuffproductions @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18 @whygz @crazywritingbug @dolphincommander @bisexualbumblebeesstuff @fuzzy-panda @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @jillanaholland @shookyungsoo @savingdraco @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @chaotic-good-gemini @memalfoy-spidey @theres-a-dog-outside-omg @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise @dietkiwi @katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things @tmnt-queen @mccloudchloe @hxneybgb @justsomerandomgurâ @belcvayelenaâ @moviesbooksandfandomsâ @howdycharlieâ @littlethingsinmymindlaâ
Christmas Eve and it seemed like the week had passed faster than the week before. Between finding a last-minute presentâand a letter to Mrs. Weasley to see if a miracle could really happenâand wrapping the ones I already had, I was exhausted come Christmas Eve, so I did what I did every year: I read a book.
âSo, do you have a dress for the Ball?â Hermione asked as we lounged in the Common Room watching the boys play chess.
âYeah, my mother sent me one, it was the parcel I got the other morning,â I noted, my eyes not leaving my bookâA Christmas Carol.
It was the evening before the Ball as well, and we were enjoying the buzz of the common room as Christmas approaching in the morning had everyone in a stupor. I had seen Draco at dinner, but Hermione stole me back for the evening, well, she tried.
Penelope swooped in and a letter landed in my lap.
âOh, come on, I just got you back in here,â Hermione groaned. âDoesnât he have his own party at Slytherin?â
âMaybe heâs invited her. Iâve heard so much about how good Slytherin parties are,â Ron looked up hopefully.
I smiled and rolled my eyes, breaking the seal and opening the letter.Â
~
Meet me at the Astronomy Tower as soon as you can, dress warm.Â
Draco
~
Three pairs of eyes were on me.
âI... have to go?â I offered sheepishly.
âA party?â Ron asked.
âNo, just... never mind. Itâs not a party.â I shrugged as I got up and stretched.
Grabbing my winter boots, scarf and fur lined jacketâthat my mother also sentâI headed own the drafty halls and up to the Astronomy Tower.
âDraco?â I called as I reached the top step. He turned, a smile making its way to his face.
âHey,â He helped me up the stair, taking my gloved hand in his. âThese are new?â He mused, eyeing the black leather fur lined gloves.
âMother sent them; someone must have told her that I was cold.â I gave him a side eyed look. He chuckled and pulled me close
âSo, the ball is tomorrow,â He began
âYes, that is how time works,â I mused. âI believe it is Christmas as well,â
âYes, I havenât forgotten,â He scoffed with a smile. âAnd I assume, since you werenât... here growing up, I assume you have no idea how to dance,â He raised an eyebrow.
âOh, and you do?â I scoffed.
âYes,â He answered simply. âThis isnât my first Ball Y/n,â
âSo, youâve danced with other girls before?â I raised an eyebrow. I wasnât as jealous as I let off, it was just fun to watch him scramble over something so simple.
âYes,â He sounded strained.
I smiled and pulled him to the center of the walkway, pulling him close.
âTeach me then,â I took his hand and he pulled me close, into first position. âYouâre right, I have never danced before,â I confessed.
âI know,â He mused. âThis is going to be horrendous,â
A laugh escaped his lips and mine. I sighed and took his hand as his other rested on my waist and mine on his shoulder. Music came from somewhere, but I didnât question it, I was too focused on not stumbling.
âItâs a pattern,â He told me. âOne, two, three, four,â He instructed.
It took a fewâhundredâtries, but Draco was persistent. Soon I was tripping over my own feet less and spinning around the Tower laughing as I danced almost flawlessly in sweatpants. Now only if I could do it in heels and a dress.
Draco pulled me in and be began to speed up the pace, leading me into new steps before his hands moved quickly and he easily dipped me.
âDraco!â I exclaimed and gripped for him as he righted me.
âDid you think I was going to let you fall?â He teased as our dance stilled, the two of us closer than ever.
âHavenât you already?â I asked, my hands drifting to their familiar place around his neck.
âHave you fallen for me then, Miss Lupine?â He asked softly, the electric current growing stronger as the distance between us closed.
Staring into blue eyes, I felt the coolness of a river, and the gentle waves of the ocean, comforting me with their chill. An entire world laid behind them, one that I yearned to explore and know every part of.
âI think so,â I whispered the confession. âA Lupine and a Malfoy,â I scoffed softly.Â
âWhat an idea,â He pondered. âTo fall for someone like you,â
I smiled and pressed my lips softly to his, basking in his warmth. Now that we had stopped dancing, the winter air began to seep through my clothes. When I shivered, he pulled away and chuckled.
âYou know, with all the spell and potions and charms out there, you would think there would be something to keep you warm,â Draco baited.
âI have you, donât I?â âI suppose you do,â
Draco walked me back to the Gryffindor portrait in comfortable silence. Another fleeting goodnight kiss and I was far from being cold.
âIâll meet you here tomorrow then? Seven forty-five?â
âAre you sure about this Draco... your father and the Ball...â I looked down, still worried.
âStop it Y/n,â He chided. âIt will be fine. Weâre safe here.â He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. âNow go get some rest.â
âGoodnight Draco,â I whispered. âAnd Merry Christmas,â
He eyed me and an amused smirk played at his lips.
âHappy Christmas,â I couldnât tell if it was a correction or if he had meant it. âGoodnight Y/n,âÂ
Again, we exchanged a glance, three words unspoken between us: I love you.Â
_____________________________
Draco woke early Christmas morning to Penelope fluttering annoyed at his side, cooing for attention. He had half the idea to shove her off the bed and go back to sleep, but you couldnât really push a bird anywhere and expect it to stay away.
Groaning and sitting up, he saw that Penelope was sitting upon two parcels, and a letter accompanying each. It dawned on him that it was Christmas morning, not just any morning, and these must be from you.
Taking the one that had your letter attachedâmarked by your red wax sealâhe opened the letter.
~
Merry Christmas Draco,
We had these sweets (we called them candy) in America, I had my mother send me some, and thought you might want to try them. Sour Patch Kids are my favorite, Iâm not one for chocolate, but I did include some for you to try. If not, Iâm sure Crabbe or Goyle wouldnât mind having them.
Mother also sent all of my Latin books to you because you seemed interested in it the other night. Please be careful with them, theyâre worth more than you can imagine, they belonged to my great great something grandfather. I will kill you if you ruin them. Though I suppose they are yours now... still.
And, from me... well, I got you a fountain pen. It was my grandfathers, a gift from a Muggle. I know, I know. But, itâs so small, and very useful. You use it like a quill and ink, but it doesnât splotch or smear and dries instantly. I rewrite all of my class notes with a pen so that theyâre neat, and I thought you might appreciate one as well. If you donât want it, thatâs fine too...
I hope you have a merryâhappy Christmas morning. I await our dance tonight,Â
Yours,
Y/n
P.S. I sent a letter to Mrs. Weasley as well and I do believe that she sent you one of her hand knitted sweaters, so donât be surprised if you get one. It was me. Again, if you donât want it... itâs okay. I know itâs a lot.
~
Draco tossed the letter aside and tore open the package that accompanied it. Inside, as you had said, was a few thick books, come colorful plastic wrapped candy, and a long black velvet box.
Taking the box, he discarded the lid and nestled inside was a sleek silver cylindrical object. Removing it, Draco stared at the small thing, wondering what use it had and how had Muggles ever used this when ink and quill worked just fine.
Pulling of the cap as he would an inkwell, a small golden tip greeted him, similar to the ends of his quills, but less fragile. Taking your letter, he leaned it against one of the books you have gifted to him and he wrote his name with the pen.
It glided easily across the page, leaving dark ink in its wake, spelling his name delicately. There was no need to dip it back into an inkwell, and running his finger over it, he discovered that it didnât smear or stain his fingers.
As much as he wanted to hate it and dismiss it, claiming that nothing smart logical or good came from Muggles, he couldnât. This pen was something else. It was useful. And he hated it. But he also loved that it was from you and that you had clearly spent a lot of time trying to figure out what would prove worth to him even though it was Muggle.
He set the pen back into the box and placed it on his desk. Having a good idea what was in the other package and who it was from, he begrudgingly opened the letter attached.
~
Mr. Draco
I was quite surprised when I got a letter from Miss Y/n asking for her to make this for you, but I couldnât say no to herâshe is quite persuasive and truly seems to care about you having a good Christmas this year and who was I to refuse?
Have a Happy Christmas Draco, because someone out there really cares for you.Â
Mrs. Weasley
~
Dreading opening the package, knowing exactly what was inside, Draco opened the parcel and found an emerald green and grey striped knitted sweater. There was no sign of the god-awful initial of his first name. No, it was just a normal sweater, as if you knew what to ask for and what he would wear.
A smile touched his lips as he slipped the sweater over his head and picked up the book you sent: Wheelockâs Latin. Flipping through a few pages he could see you steady writing in notes littering the margins and little bookmarks placed in odd places to him.
The room around him started to come alive as the others around him awoke, and began to tear through their presents, but he remained on his bed in his own little bubble, leafing through the books and making his way through the American sweets you had sentâparticularly enjoying something called Mike and Ikes.
Because of you, he had one of the best Christmas mornings that he had in a long while. He hoped that you were as well.
___________________________
The excitement of the morning had me awake earlier than normal and I saw that Hermione was already awake. Smiles spread across our faces as we wished another a Merry Christmas then began to open the presents that laid at the foot of our beds.
Hermione had gotten me a bookâthe same book that I had taken from Malfoy in the libraryâ âso that you can have your ownâ she explained. Harry and Ron had joined together and gotten me a new set of inkwell and quill and a bound book of parchment in emerald and gold. Mrs. Weasley went above and beyond as normal with snacks and the usual sweater; this year it was a deep red with a forest green trim and gold accents. There was another set of graphite pencils and sketchbook from my mother and new diamond earrings from my grandparents.
On its own, on my bedside table was a small package in silk green wrapping and a letter with a matching green seal. My heart fluttered as I picked it up, knowing that it was from Draco. I hope that he had gotten what I had sent and that he had accepted it.
Opening the letter, it was short and unbearably sweet:
~
Dearest Y/n,
For you, to remind you that we are more than names and houses.Â
Happy Christmas. Iâll see you tonight,
Yours,
Draco
~
Smiling I opened the small box and inside cushioned was a necklace. It held neither an emerald nor ruby, instead a sapphire, the color of the sea, the color of his eyes, the feeling of Animi Amoris. On a delicate silver chain and lain in a diamond encrusted heart the sapphire sat, smiling at me.
âOh Draco,â I murmured softly.
âWhat he get you?â Hermione asked, grinning, coming over to my bed in her Weasley sweater.
IÂ showed her the necklace, not letting it leave my hold.
âHe really is a sap, isnât he?â Hermione sighed
âYeah, he is,â I smiled, putting the necklace on. âHeâll never admit it though.â
Harry and Ron met up with Hermione and me in the common room, and we went down to breakfast together. I didnât catch sight of Draco at breakfast and I wondered where he was. Deciding not to fret too much I spent the morning in Gryffindor Tower, where everyone was enjoying their presentsâas I was, starting to sketch with my motherâs present.
Lunch was just as extravagant and featured so many turkeys I wondered exactly how long it had taken for them all to be cooked. I did see Draco at lunch, but other than a wave and a smile, there was no time for a proper hello in the fervor of the festivities, not that we didnât try.
Time flew and soon Hermione and I were up in the Gryffindor Tower getting ready for the Ball. I had to help her with her hair and makeup, knowing a bit more in the area.
âHe asked you out last night to teach you to dance?â She squeaked. âThat is the cutest thing, I honestly donât believe it,â
I rolled my eyes and pinned her hair into place.
âI think heâs been so worried about keeping up his reputation that he doesnât know who to be, ya know? He doesnât have the parents we do... or the friends. Heâs just...â I trailed off.
âI understand, itâs just odd.â Hermione smiled.
âYeah, but heâs still himself... just good.â I placed the final pin. âThere, that should stay for the rest of... well forever.â I grinned. âNo one will know itâs you Cinderella,â I teased.
âOh, and who does that make you?
âYour fairy godmother of course,â I mocked a bow
âIâm pretty sure that makes you Belle and youâre living Beuaty and the Beast,â She pointed out mischievously.
I laughed and started to work on her makeup. She then helped me curl my hair and place it into a plaited bun. It was great fun. I teased her about Krum, and she teased me right back about Draco. We finally had time to sit and talk without anyone prying and without a deadline.
The time came and we both got into our dresses, doing finishing touches. Hermione held herself higher as we looked in the mirror, her periwinkle dress playing off of my crimson red one. Dracoâs necklace hung at the hollow of my chest.
We both left the fray a bit early, I had to meet Draco and she had to meet Krum. Just as he had promised, Draco met me outside the Common Room, looking nervous and very handsome. His suit was well tailored, the stark black and white playing off another.
âWow,â He breathed out, making me look down, blushing the color of my dress.
âMy mother does have a dramatic flair, doesnât she?â I asked, running my fingers through the layers of tulle and speckled diamonds that danced in the candlelight.
âI donât think she has anything to do with how breathtaking you look right now,â Draco offered his hand.
I took it, taking careful graceful steps in the heels that my mother also sent me.
âYou look quite handsome as well,â I complimented. âQuite a change from school uniforms is it not?â
âOne that I rather enjoy,â He smiled as I held onto him, descending the stairs toward the Great Hall entrance.
Everyone in the hall stopped with the sight of us, gawking. A hush fell over the crowd as we entered the mass of students, all dressed for the occasion, all gapingâor glaringâat the two of us. I tried to not let it bother me, but I couldnât quite let it go.
âPeople are staring,â I whispered.
âY/n Iâm sure youâve seen yourself in a mirror, you are more than worth staring at.â
I looked down, suddenly very focused on not tripping. When the Great Hall doors were opened, I caught sight of Harry and Ron with their dates, the Patil twins, and gave him a small wave as we were ushered out into the lawn.
It was captivating, the sight of it all. I leaned against Draco, marveling at the fairy lights and enchantment of it all. The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.
âLike a fairy tale,â I whispered, letting my eyes wander.
âShall we then,â Draco asked, leading me to one of the front tables where myâour friends were sitting.
âIf heâs the Slytherin Prince then no doubt tonight youâre the Gryffindor Princess,â Fred muttered in my ear.
I let out a small laugh and looked to Draco, who raised an eyebrow in question, but I shrugged and shook my head, taking his hand in mine. With the Triwizard champions having sat and Dumbledore beginning the feast, the Hall was filled with talking and laughter and merriment.
It was comforting, watching it all. Draco fit in with the crowed around us and Hermione and Viktor were having what seemed like the best time at one of the head tables. I was happy for her; she finally was seen on the outside who she was on the inside.
Dinner had come and passed and with a wave of his wand, Dumbledore transformed the Great Hall into a dance floor. Anxiety fluttered in my chest at the thought that I would have to dance in front of people soon.
âI can hear you worrying,â Draco murmured softly, as he stood behind me his hands at my waist.
âI have to dance,â I fretted. âIâm going barefoot, I hope you know that,â
He chuckled and nodded, whether in acknowledgement or permission, I wasnât sure. Soon other couples began to join the champions. I broke from Dracoâs hold and discarded my heels under a nearby table. When I went back, I couldnât find Draco. My eyes scanned the crowd until I felt a hand on my shoulder.
Relaxing I turned and saw gentle blue eyes.
âMay I have this dance?â Draco bowed slightly, offering his hand out again.
âYou may,â I grinned and took it as he led me to the dance floor.
âI wonât let you fall,â He promised in a soft voice as we fell into a familiar pattern, learned only the night before.
The world faded around us as he guided me on the dance floor. My eyes never left his and a smile never left either of our faces. It was our own little world as we waltzed across the floor.
The moment held another sort of magic, one where we didnât have to do anything but fall into step with another and dance upon the notes left by the music around us.
âReady?â He whispered and I nodded.
Gently, as the music ended, he dipped me, father than before, but I wasnât afraid.Â
He wasnât going to let me fall.
.
.
Part 12?
#draco malfoy#draco x reader#draco x gryffindor!reader#draco x y/n#draco malfoy x oc#draco malfoy x reader#draco malfoy x y/n#draco malfoy x#slytherin x gryffindor#slytherin#weasley twins#hermione granger#gryffindor#harry potter#viktor krum#grabbe and goyle#muggles#christmas#hogwarts#yule ball#ravenclaw#hufflepuff#triwizard cup#triwizard champions#triwizard tournament#beauty and the beast#cinderella#draco deserved better#hp x reader#hp x oc
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Chapter 8
Buster woke the following morning feeling like hell. His nostrils were so stuffy he could barely breathe out of them, his nose was on fire, and his mouth still tasted like blood even though heâd brushed his teeth twice before bed. He stumbled to the bathroom to look at the damage. Two small purple bruises underscored his eyes and the bridge of his nose was swollen to twice its size. His appearance confirmed that canceling filming had been the right decision. He swallowed some aspirin, cleaned his teeth again, and took a shower, letting the steam open his clogged sinuses.Â
The aspirin barely touched the pain. He toweled off and pulled on a dressing gown, then poured himself a breakfast whiskey to go with the steak and eggs he ordered. Once heâd eaten, he called Nate. To his relief, he was patched over to her line; she hadnât left for Sunday brunch at Dutchâs yet.Â
âHello?â she said.
âHi, how are you?â he said.
She told him that she was well.Â
He said, âI broke my nose in the game last night.â
âOh, Iâm so sorry. How?â
He explained the eighth-inning fastball to the face. âBut we won the game. 9 to 6.â
âDid you?â she said. âThatâs too bad about your nose though. Iâm sorry, darling.â
She sounded suitably sympathetic, but he craved more. He wanted the soothing, the Iâll-be-right-there, the kissing and canoodling.Â
âHow are the boys?â he said.
âThe usual,â she said. âFull of the devil.â
âGood,â he said. âI wonât be filming for a few days because of my nose. You should really consider bringing them up. Theyâd love the steamboats and Iâd like you to see the set. They say the shopping is good in Yolo, too.â
âOh Buster,â she said, her tone telling him the answer was already a big fat no. âYou know Iâd love to, but six hours on a train is too much for them, donât you think? I know youâre disappointed, but we must think of whatâs best for them. And wouldnât they be in your way? Iâd have to bring Connie to mind them, and I think four is getting to be a crowd. I donât suppose your suite would hold another four, would it?â
âNate, you donât have to bring the governess. I think youâre perfectly capable of managing them for a few days, donât you? We can get a second suite or even a third, if thatâs what has you concerned.â
âIâm flattered by your faith in me,â she said with a little laugh, âbut youâve never traveled with three- and five-year-old boys! I know Iâm letting you down, but itâs only another month, isnât it? Five weeks tops? Thatâs really not so bad when you think of it.â
âYeah, itâs not too bad,â he said, echoing her hollowly.
âI miss you dreadfully,â she assured him, before launching into a story about the picture Dutch was filming and the party she intended to throw with her sisters at the Villa next weekend. He listened with only half an ear. He wasnât surprised about her answer to his proposal, but he still felt lousy.
Since Bobby had been born and Nate had booted him out of the bed, heâd accepted that his needs would have to be satisfied by other women. He knew that Nate hated him for it, even though heâd stuck to his original promise and been the soul of discretion. In spite of her rejection, he still desired her and wanted to win her back, but the most she would ever permit was necking and light petting. If he so much as thought about taking things further, sheâd squirm out of his grasp. He just didnât understand, even three years since heâd last made love to her, why he couldnât have both a wife and the rights that other husbands were entitled to. Heâd gone over it in his head a thousand times. Was he a bad lover? Was it her upbringing? Pegâs sermonizing? Her religion? Could she be a lesbian? He didnât know and God forbid he even try to broach the topic. Sheâd give him such a withering look before she stalked out of the room that he felt like he ought to be thrown in jail on charges of sex depravity for even mentioning the idea.Â
Divorce was out of the question, naturally. There were relationships to preserve: the one with Joe for starters and those with his famous sisters-in-law. He didnât trust that Nate wouldnât try to keep the boys from him, either, if he tried to end it. He could just hear her saying to some attorney, âWell, he doesnât see them much anyway.â In the meantime, all the saphead could do was to keep trying vainly to find that opening in his wifeâs affections. Casting her as his leading lady hadnât worked. Building her a little love-nest, then a great big love-nest, hadnât worked. Heâd recently decided that maybe a real honeymoon instead of the post-nuptial cross-country train trip that had masqueraded as one might work on her. He figured deep down it wouldnât change her mind, but still he had his foolish hopes.Â
When Natalie was done prating, he told her he had to get ready for lunch with Joe and said his goodbyes. There wasnât any such lunch, but he no longer wanted to talk.Â
He ended up spending the afternoon at the new zoo, disguised by a fake moustache, a tweed cap, and jumper vest that constricted him in heat on what was already a sweltering day. It worked, though. No one looked twice at him. The zoo was a disappointment. To begin with, it was extraordinarily tiny, but more importantly most of the animals featuredâdeer, wild turkey, raccoonsâcould be seen if you just sat in a Muskegon tree long enough. The most exotic offering consisted of some listless-looking monkeys in cages. A pack of adolescent boys thumped on their wire enclosures and screeched at them to perform. âPick on someone your own size!â he yelled at them, and they scattered. The monkeys blinked back at him, not seeming to care one way or the other.Â
He did have dinner with Joe that night at the Italian Restaurant in the Julius Hotel. As Buster tucked into his truffle tagliatelle, Joe dropped the bomb.Â
âWe canât have the flood sequence.â
Buster laughed. âIt sounded like you just said âWe canât have the flood sequence,â Joe, but I donât think I heard you right,â he said, and took a bite of tagliatelle. âGood one, though.â
âIâm not kidding. Think about how itâll look. Youâve got a river thatâs supposed to be the Mississippiââ
âSacrasippi,â Buster said, lifting his eyebrows.
âCut it out,â said Joe, frowning. âIâm trying to be serious. Youâve got a river thatâs supposed to be the Mississippi and itâs supposed to flood. Well, you know as well as I do that hundreds of people just lost their lives in the Mississippi floods.â
âSince when do you care?â said Buster. If there was one thing heâd always liked about Joe, it was that he let him alone and let him make the pictures his own way. Something about this smelled fishy.
âItâs in poor taste. Itâs not going to get laughs, itâs just going to bring bad publicity. I donât want it to flop. Thereâs too much money in it.â
Buster set down his fork. Two words had stuck out: publicity and money. âThis is Harry, isnât it?â he said, narrowing his eyes.
Joe gave a slight wave of his hand, dismissing the comment. âNow donât go blaming Harry. I happen to agree with him. It would be a risky thing, and God knows what it would cost to pull it off anyway.â
âWell that god damn bean-counter,â said Buster, anger flaring. âWeâve already got everything set up for a flood! The entire god damn picture is about a flood. Thatâs the entire point!â Joe looked at him with a firm expression. âIâve made up my mind. We canât do a flood.â
âWell, we may as well can the whole picture then,â Buster said. âAll my best gags are built around the flood. I canât just start from scratch.â
âLook,â said Joe, continuing to eat his own meal. âWeâre talking about lost lives here. You can see that, canât you?â
âHorseshit,â said Buster. âRemember Chaplinâs picture Shoulder Arms? The ink wasnât even dry on the Armistice when he released that. I remember âcause it was the first thing I saw after I got back from France. Everyone loved it. No one was thinking about how many soldiers had just gotten their heads and legs blown off in the war, they just knew a funny picture when they saw one.â He clenched his left fist in his lap.Â
âWhy not try another disaster?â Joe said.
âLike what?â he said. He stabbed at the pasta with his fork and took a bite without pleasure.
âIâm not the brains here.â
âWhat, like a cyclone? Joe, I bet you tornadoes and hurricanes kill more people each year than floods. Sure we wouldnât get bad reviews and angry letters from folks whose families have been killed by tornadoes?â
Joe waved his hand again. âA cyclone sounds just fine. Anything thatâs not a flood, you can do.â
It stunk to high heaven as far as Buster was concerned, but he knew Joe well enough to see when heâd made up his mind. He finished his tagliatelle in silence and didnât even pretend he was willing to pick up the tab when Joe went to pay. He took a taxi back to the Senator and went to bed early, tossing between the sheets and stewing about his lost flood. There were butter cookies in the brown paper sack making dark greasy spots on its sides. Nelly stood outside Busterâs dressing room, her heart racing with the memory of what had happened last time sheâd stepped inside it. Before she lost her nerve, she tapped on the door.Â
âCome in!â called Buster.Â
She slipped through and closed the door. He was sitting at his table again, not in costume today but wearing dark slacks and a long-sleeved blue jacquard shirt with faint stripes.
âHi, itâs Nelly,â she said, by way of greeting.Â
âI havenât forgotten your name,â said Buster, one corner of his mouth quirking. âWhat do you have there?â
She stepped a few feet forward and extended the bag. âI made you cookies.â
He looked from the bag to her as he took it, surprised. âWhat did I do to deserve such an honor?â
âI heard you broke your nose,â she said. Indeed, she could see up close that his nose was swollen near the top and there were small faded bruises beneath his eyes, not noticeable unless you were next to him.
âSo you baked me cookies.â He peeked inside.Â
âYes. I wanted to thank you, too,â she said, feeling the full ridiculousness of her gesture. âFor taking care of me last Friday night.â
âNo oneâs ever made me get-well cookies before, not even my own mother. Iâd just get cod-liver oil, even for sprains.â He sounded pleased.
âHowâs your nose?â she said, as he bit into a cookie.Â
âHurts like the dickens,â he said, chewing. âIâm hoping the swelling will go down by Friday so I can start filming again.â He didnât remark upon the cookie as he finished it, but she noticed he pulled another out of the bag. âWeâre doing the night scenes soon.â
She was still a little fuzzy on Steamboat Billâs plot, but this weekâs filming had involved hundreds of local extras, and the grander of the two steamboats was piloted up and down the river, belching out huge plumes of black smoke. Sheâd taken a break to watch the spectacle. The crowdâs enthusiasm for the steamboat seemed real. The whole set certainly looked real thanks to all the props down by the riverside, the small boats, the large pennants reading KING, and the patriotic bunting draped on storefronts. Buster had been on hand near the cameras helping direct, but hadnât noticed her in the throngs.
Buster went on. âIâve got this publicity man who says I canât have a flood because of the lives that were lost when the Mississippi flooded, so weâre changing everything up for a cyclone.â She marveled a little that he was telling her anything about the production, but tried not to show it. âI wondered what those airplane propellers and big motors Bert had me order were for,â she said.Â
âThese are good,â said Buster, pulling a third cookie from the bag. âRemind me to get hurt more often.â
âOr rescue foolish girls from themselves more often,â she said.Â
âIt was nothing,â he said.Â
âIt was something to me.âÂ
He considered her as he started on the third cookie.Â
âAnyway, I already took lunch. Iâve got to get back to the shop,â she said.
âOkay,â he said.Â
She had her hand on the door when he spoke up again.Â
âWhy that Shrew play, anyway? Why not Juliet?â
She turned back and looked at him, thoroughly confused. She had no idea how he knew about one of her dearest and closest ambitions.
He noticed her puzzlement and clarified. âYou said your dream was to star in that Shrew play. Why? Why not Romeo and Juliet?â
âI donât remember telling you that,â she said, feeling abashed
âWell, donât get bent out of shape about it, I was just asking,â he said, a little defensively.Â
âNo, Iâm not bent out of shape, Iâm surprised,â she said, as she faced him. âI donât remember saying that. Iâm afraid of what else I, uh, might have said that night.â She cringed to think of what else might have come out of her mouth. âI hope I didnât beg you for a break or anything.â
He regarded her with a calm expression. âYou didnât. Iâd still like to know, though.â
âWell, Kate has a mind of her own. She wants to control her own fate. Marriage isnât for her,â she said, conscious of how clumsy her words were. âSheâs fun to play. Romeo and Juliet is a little boring.â
In truth, it was Katherineâs spirit which she loved, the rebellion against her father and Petruchio, and hang the end of the play. In her experience, the audience never remembered the end of the play, only the beginning and middle where Katherine was at her most defiant and fiery.Â
Buster nodded, elbow on the table and finger sliding absently under his lip. The silence stretched on for long enough that Nelly said, âAnyway, Iâll see you around.â
âThanks for the cookies,â Buster said.
Note: Itâs easy when writing a fiction about Buster Keaton to cast Natalie Talmadge as a villain. I prefer to listen to Busterâs granddaughter Melissa Talmadge Cox who points out that the divorce is ancient history and that fans should get over it! Even though Iâm writing a story that is obviously canon divergent, I always remember that Buster lived happily ever after with Eleanor Norris Keaton and considered himself to have had a lucky life with very few dark spots. Why did Natalie put a end to her sex life with the gorgeous, winsome Buster Keaton? I think the likeliest explanation is that she just wasnât attracted to him or simply didnât like sex. I do think Buster really loved her too and wanted things to work out, which is why their marriage lasted as long as it did. Iâve tried to convey that with this story. Also, Iâm with Natalie. Trying to travel hours on a train with two young rambunctious boys sounds like a nightmare, even with a governess. And yes, the Keaton governess was also named Connie, not to be confused with Constance âConnieâ Talmadge, who was also frequently called Dutch. Finally, with a lot of digging through newspapers I learned that the date Buster broke his nose was July 30th, 1927! So the first scene takes place on the 31st. The second occurs on Wednesday, August 3rd.
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5 underrated Richard Donner movies you need to see
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Richard Donner will forever be remembered as the filmmaker who created the blueprint for the modern superhero blockbuster with 1978âs Superman starring Christopher Reeve.
Yet that doesnât tell even half the story of the Bronx-born filmmakerâs brilliant filmography.
Donner was in his late 40s by the time Superman came along, having made a name for himself in Hollywood two years earlier, with 1976âs suitably terrifying The Omen.
Prior to that, he was a budding director making the transition from the small screen to the world of cinema. Donner worked on everything from Gilliganâs Island to The Twilight Zone. Even then, it was clear he was destined for bigger things though, as anyone who saw âNightmare at 20,000 Feetâ, the iconic episode of The Twilight Zone he directed, starring William Shatner, can attest.
While a disagreement with producers ultimately saw him walk away from Superman II, the 1980s saw Donner establish himself as an incredibly versatile big budget director capable of handling everything from the epic family adventure fun of The Goonies to the balancing act of action and comedy found within the buddy cop antics of Lethal Weapon.
It was a skillset that drew admiration from the very best in the movie industry, including Steven Spielberg who was among the first to pay tribute to Donner after learning he had passed away, aged 91.
âDick had such a powerful command of his movies, and was so gifted across so many genres,â Spielberg, who worked with Donner on The Goonies, said.
âBeing in his circle was akin to hanging out with your favourite coach, smartest professor, fiercest motivator, most endearing friend, staunchest ally, and â of course â the greatest Goonie of all.â
Donner may not have had the same impact in the 1990s and early 2000s but he still enjoyed major success with the Lethal Weapon franchise and as a producer with movies like Free Willy and X-Men.
More importantly, the other films he made during that period and in the years between some of his biggest hits remain well worth revisiting or seeking out for the first time â starting with these five.
Ladyhawke
Coming hot on the heels of The Goonies and two years prior to Lethal Weapon, Ladyhawke represented another major departure for Donner. A dark medieval fantasy, it centred on Rutger Hauerâs mysterious Captain Etienne Navarre and his female companion Lady Isabeau (Michelle Pfeiffer), a pair of star-crossed lovers on the run from a vengeful bishop who has placed a demonic curse on their heads. While Navarre transforms into a wolf by night, Isabeau exists as a Hawk by day. Teaming up with petty thief Philippe Gaston (Matthew Broderick) they embark on a quest to overthrow the evil bishop and break the spell.
Something of a passion project, Donner had attempted to get Ladyhawke off the ground several times before finally getting the green light from Warner Bros and 20th Century Fox in the mid â80s. The film then suffered another setback when Kurt Russell, originally cast as Navarre, dropped out during rehearsals.Â
That ultimately proved a blessing in disguise with Hauer going on to deliver arguably his best performance since Blade Runner. Not everything about Ladyhawke works â Broderickâs character feels a little too close to Ferris Bueller while the runtime could be trimmed down â but it remains a beautifully realised fantasy epic, full of memorable action set pieces, stunning cinematography and a spellbinding turn from Pfeiffer.
A box office bomb upon release, Ladyhawke has stood the test of time too, garnering a cult following as an authentic and fresh take on the sword and sorcery formula.Â
Maverick
Maverick is the film Will Smith must have hoped Wild Wild West would be; a funny, clever action comedy based on a classic TV show. Coming in an era when most westerns were deadly serious, Donnerâs film also felt like a breath of fresh air and benefited hugely from a masterful William Goldman script that was both witty and unpredictable.
The latest in a series of films featuring Donnerâs muse-of-sorts, Mel Gibson, this time out Mel plays Bret Maverick, a brilliant card player and equally impressive con artist trying to collect enough money to earn a seat at a high-stakes poker game. Along the way he is forced to contend with a fellow scammer in the form of Jodie Fosterâs Annabelle Bransford as well as lawman Marshal Zane Cooper, played by James Garner, who starred in the original TV series.
While the glut of cameos from country music stars and the likes of Danny Glover can be a little distracting, thereâs something wonderfully charming about Maverick with Gibson, Foster and Garner all on top form and boasting an undeniable chemistry that helps keep things entertaining.Â
The climactic poker game which sees Maverick face off against Alfred Molinaâs psychopathic Angel is also expertly handled by Donner, who cranks up the tension as Maverick reveals his final, decisive, hand with a slow-motion toss of the final card towards the camera. A critical and financial success, Maverick has been largely lost in the shuffle since its release but should be sought out.
Conspiracy Theory
Thereâs something strangely prescient about Conspiracy Theory given the current predilection for such thinking on the internet at large. One of Donnerâs most inventive and intelligent outings alongside Gibson, this time out Mel plays Jerry Fletcher, a New York City cab driver with a penchant for paranoid conspiracy theories.
Jerryâs life takes a turn for the strange when he finds himself being targeted by a set of shady government goons led by Patrick Stewartâs Dr Jonas. He quickly realises one of the conspiracies he has been promoting in his weekly newsletter (this was the â90s) is based more in reality than he thought. The question is: which one?
An engrossing thriller featuring Donnerâs trademark dashes of witty humour, Conspiracy Theory is bolstered significantly by the presence of the ever-reliable Julia Roberts as a government lawyer with a soft spot for Jerry. Despite a lengthy run time, Donner also keeps the action moving along at an engaging pace while Gibsonâs performance is just the right side of manic to keep you rooting for him.
A first foray into the kind of deep state conspiracy thrillers that were commonplace in Hollywood at the time, the film also boasts some genuinely striking moments, not least the sequence where Jerry undergoes âpsychotic testingâ at the hands of Dr Jonas, which wouldnât have looked out of place in A Clockwork Orange.
Though it was a hit with audiences, Conspiracy Theory earned mixed reviews but appears increasingly worthy of reappraisal.
Timeline
Some movies are big, dumb but lots of fun. Timeline sits firmly in that category despite what many naysayers would have you believe. Itâs a brash, simplistic sci-fi flick to rival the likes of The Core and Geostorm and thoroughly entertaining to boot.
The fact that it features Gerard Butler, as well as the late, great, Paul Walker only adds to that sentiment.
Walker plays Chris Johnston who, along with Butlerâs Andre Marek and a team of fellow archaeologists travel back in time through a wormhole to 14th century France to rescue their professor, Dr Edward Johnston (Billy Connolly), who just happens to be Walkerâs characterâs dad too.
Based on a book by Michael Crichton, Donner had been in the running to direct Jurassic Park a decade earlier and jumped at the chance to adapt Timeline for the big screen. While filming went off without a hitch, Donner repeatedly clashed with Paramount Pictures in post-production and was forced to re-cut the film three times in a development that saw the release date pushed by nearly a year. The resulting edit did not sit well with Crichton either, who disliked it so intensely he stopped licensing his work for a few years after.
Whether Donnerâs original cut would have earned better reviews or Crichtonâs approval remains to be seen but what remains of Timeline is still a well shot, enjoyable sci-fi yarn with some neat medieval action flourishes.Â
16 Blocks
Donnerâs final film also ranks among his most unappreciated. On the surface, 16 Blocks sounds like the perfect fodder for a game of buddy cop movie bingo.
It stars Bruce Willis as Jack Mosley, a worn-out NYPD Detective with a drinking problem tasked with transporting Mos Defâs trial witness Eddie Bunker to court. Problems arise when some of Jackâs fellow officers arrive to kill Eddie and prevent him from testifying. Eager for redemption, Jack decides to take the would-be assassins on and get Eddie to court on time.
A formulaic enough premise, 16 Blocks is emboldened by the fact it plays out in real-time with Eddie required at the courthouse by no later than 10am. In this sense, Donner found himself in new territory with an action thriller that thrives on a unique sense of urgency.Â
While the filmmaker is no stranger to the action formula, this setup sees him imbue events with a renewed sense of chaos, as Jack and Eddie fight their way through armed adversaries, busy crowds and bustling traffic, all against a cacophony of shouts, car horns and gun blasts.
Ostensibly a chase movie on foot rather than four wheels, the action traverses 16 blocks in 118 minutes and rarely lets up for a second with Donner proving a dab hand at balancing the action with the engaging back-and-forth between Willis and Def who are both understated yet effective throughout.
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Throw in the ever-watchable David Morse as the leader of the shady cops baying for Eddieâs blood and you have arguably one of the most underrated action thrillers of the early 2000sÂ
The post 5 underrated Richard Donner movies you need to see appeared first on Den of Geek.
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SUNLIGHT
Summary: Welcome to Mattina ed Estasi, an art gallery dedicated to show the art of seduction. This story is dedicated to the discover of true sex.
A/n: each day has a painting, please click on the link, likes and reblogged are love and if you come talk to me about it: Iâll love you forever. Please read end notes, itâs important
Find my masterlist HERE
Find the Pinterest page for this fic HERE
Somewhere in Italy, 1978âŠ..
Day 1: Mattina ed Estasi https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-Extasy/300907/4211239/view
Lavignia was going to have a syncope. She was sure of it. It was hot, hotter than any other summer she has ever lived in her 25 years of life upon this earth. Her pink loose dress was sticking like glue because of the heat and she was late for her first day at the new job.
Fucking amazing, right?
The bus was late and then she got lost because she should have turned right but she took a left and her Italian isnât amazing enough to understand what the old lady was trying to explain her, she was speaking too fast and Lav was far too nervous to concentrate.Â
But finally she saw the brick walls built in an elegant way. She saw the big stained glass with the mermaid. She had finally found Mattina ed Estasi, or âmorning and ecstasyâ in English. This is going to be her new job - new home- for at least the next 18 months (that was what the contract said, at least).Â
Having graduated just a year ago from the University of CoimbrĂŁ with a major in arts and communication, Lavignia found herself without a job and without the possibility of asking for her folks to help since they didnât want her to go to college at all (she had one job and that was to marry wellâŠ. and thatâs clearly not what she did).Â
But a friend of a friend told her one night about this gallery in Italy that needed someone to work there. This person had to speak English, to communicate with all of the tourist and had to know a lot about art.Â
Thank god she knew both.Â
Packing her bags, she dished her job at the bar and went to Italy on the morning train all the way from France. With all of her articles about art and the hope of a brand new start.Â
Taking a deep breath she walked through the doors, coming face to face with a tall red head: âyou must be Vanessa! Mrs. Lovelace told me you would be here.Â
She was nervous, feeling short when standing side by side with this gorgeous woman. Her hair all messy from the wind and heat. But Vanessa, with a freckled face and very blue eyes, opened a smile and refused her hand shake, going for a hug.Â
âHello, Lavignia. Yes, Mrs. Lovelace has told me all about you, she seemed excited, she loved your article about the art movements as protest against the military coups in Latin-America.âÂ
âIâm glad. And please, call me LavâÂ
âOf course. Ready to begin our training?â
They started to walk around the gallery. An intimate space with golden artificial lights, a crew of men was working with all of the artwork for the new exposition: âLove and Sexâ.Â
âWhat do you know about our new work? I just need to know everything you were told so I can help you with the restâÂ
âWell, I received a lot of books to study the theme on the last few days. Love and Sex is all about the the raw emotions of the human body, showing how much they are alike but also not so different. One complements the other but at the same time you can have sex without feeling in love, and you can fall in love and not have sex.â She could feel the embarrassment from talking so much about this subject with someone she barely knows but since it was about art becomes more acceptable.Â
âYes. You are very correct. We are getting pieces from the renaissance era till the new paining by erotic artist Joan Semmel, our biggest conquest of this is actually her painting âSunlightâ, but Harry still has to bring that oneâ
âNice. But who is Harry?âÂ
âOh, didnât Mrs. Lovelace told you about the owners of the shop?âÂ
Lavignia shook her head in a negative but said âonly that she was one of them.â
âWe have three owners. The first one is Jeannie Lovelaceâ the one who interviewed Lavignia just 5 days before. She was around her late sixties, beautiful long silver hair and blue eyes. Very elegant lady always using nice bell pants and white shirts. âWell, first, never call her Mrs. Lovelace to her face, she doesnât like being treated like she is elite, even if she is. Some people say that on her younger days she had an affair with Duke Elligton, can you imagine?âÂ
They laughed together, this beautiful old lady must have so much to tell if given the opportunity .Â
âAnyway, she was the founding mother of this beautiful gallery. She never got married so her true love is art. She founded this gallery back in 1961 with the money she inherited from her father company back in the U.Sâ.Â
âNice. There is two others right?â She said while pointing to a board with the story of the gallery âThis Harry you just told me about and Jesse right?âÂ
âYes. Let me start with the worse: Jesse Fire. Firstly, Iâm pretty sure thatâs not his real name. Heâs this elite lawyer and a jackass with everyone he doesnât find worthy of his time. He only puts money on this gallery because itâs a good investment and makes him have a âintelectual imageâ for the tabloids. Donât worry too much about him but if he ever appears just try to not talk to him, and youâll be fine. He is on holiday and wonât return for another three months. And he lives in Rome, so even when heâs in the country he comes here only for big openings and our parties. We are all safe.âÂ
She opened a huge smileÂ
âNow, letâs talk about the last one: Harry. Do you happen to know H.E Styles?âÂ
âYou mean the erotic poet and composer? The one people are always talking about his sexual escapades and charming waysâÂ
âThat one. Well⊠thatâs Harry. I mean, we all know Harry made his money with art and he likes to spend his money with more art. Shocking, right? He has the biggest collection of sensual masterpieces. From paintings to sculptures and even vintage sex toys: he has it all. Actually this exhibition was his idea. The main pieces will have a poem by him attached to it.âÂ
âAnd how many pieces are we hoping for?â
âAround 10. Heâs going to write new poems for the main events, inspired by a few of the art pieces and will release a book at the end of everything. And thatâs the reason why we still donât have the painting by Semmel. He is struggling with that one and took home last Friday and promised to bring here today.Â
âAnd itâs not here todayâ said a raspy slow voice from the back door. He was using a blue chiffon shirt almost completely unbuttoned with a pair of high waisted white jeans and a glittery boot, with heels that gave him at least 3 inches more. âI am so glad to see my favorite red hair today. It was a tuff weekendâÂ
He got closer and she could finally see his face: green eyes, beautiful wavy brown hair and a nice crooked smile with dimples just to make it more adorable. And he had a mustache. Lav absolutely hates mustaches, but if itâs this handsome fellow that has oneâŠ. she wouldnât complain.Â
âWhat happened? Couldnât find inspiration again?â Vanessa said while touching his arm. Of course a guy that hot would go for a girl like Nessa. They looked like a power couple together.Â
âFirst I thought I could get inspiration if I could just stare at the painting. But it didnât work so I called Daniel and Melissa, maybe with a fun three way party I could feel inspired, wrong. Then yesterday, I thought âmaybe I need to see the world with different eyesâ so I popped a few acid tablets⊠didnât work. So now Iâm here, on a Monday morning, asking you PLEASE let me have the painting for a few more daysâÂ
It was too much information for Lav to take, in three days he had done more than she has done her whole life. That made her feel quite uneasy.Â
âThat depends, Styles⊠will you borrow your beach house for the summer so I can have my honeymoon with Cathy there?âÂ
Oh, she has a fiancĂ©e, thought Lavignia, how silly could she be, thinking they were a couple.Â
âI was already going to offer you this and you know it. But of course, my Calihouse is yours for the time you want it for your honeymoonâ he finally locked eyes with the brunette who was feeling like an outsider listening to private conversation: âand who is this Dove? Is she the new curator you and Lovelace were talking about?âÂ
âYes, Lavignia this is Harry. Harry this is LavigniaâÂ
 She gave him an awkward smile.Â
âNice to meet you, Mr. Stylesâ
She raised her hand to shook his that was already reaching out for her. But, instead of a shake, he took her hand and before giving a kiss he whispered to her hand âplease, call me Harry.â He kissed her hand and let her hand go, using the tips of his fingers to caress her arm on the way down from its previous position.Â
âShe is actually going to create the sequence for the pieces and the artistic and historical explanation of the pieces from the the exhibitionâ.Â
âI thought I was going to write thisâÂ
âYeah but she has the technical knowledge. So you are going to look at the art, find a meaning behind and she is going to write the explanation for the techniques and whatsoever and to the presentationwould be interesting if you guys worked togetherâÂ
Thatâs when it hit Lavignia: they had 6 days till the opening and absolutely zero idea of what they were going to produce.Â
âWaitâŠ.. we have six days to plan this whole thing?â Â
Harry laughed.Â
âYes, we have done a lot but still, we have a lot do. Right now the focus is to create a storyline to exhibit everything and it has to go well with the main theme. Welcome to our galleryâ he said with a smile. âBut Iâm sure itâs going to be an easy job. Because love and sex are so inherent to the human beingâÂ
That wasnât going to be an easy job. She didnât know much about love or sex.Â
.
After their conversation, the day was just a blurry memory: checking the pieces, looking for articles and references about each one. Harry would once in a while come and check on Lav, ask her if she wanted anything and sometimes he would just look at her, like he was trying to memorize her face.Â
It was already 7 pm and Lav and Nessa were getting their stuff to leave when Harry came up to talk to them:Â
âGirls, Lovelace just called the office and asked if we want to have dinner at her place. Iâm going, care to join?âÂ
âI canât, have to meet Cathy. We have a dinner date to try and finally find a date that is good to get marriedâ said Nessa âbut I think it would be good for Lav so she can get a feel about how we workâÂ
âI can give you a ride if you wantâ Harry offered with a sweet smile, putting both of his hands on the reception table and getting closer to her face.Â
âUh, sure. Let me just get the rest of my stuffâÂ
âSure, Iâm waiting outsideâÂ
Vanessa was looking down at her with cheeky eyes and knowing smile: âyou are going to have the best fuck of your lifeâ Lav eyes grew wide âoh me and my fiancĂ©e once had a threesome with Harry. A one time thing but didnât he gave us the ride of our livesâÂ
âThere will be no fu⊠mingling with the boss for me. Thank you very muchâ Lavignia said while getting the rest of her stuff and walking away with heavy steps and wide angry eyes. She was already out of the door but she could still listen to Vanessaâs laughter.Â
She started looking for a nice and extravagant car but what she found was Harry leaning on a very red Harley Davidson. Picking at his nails, tearing off the nail polish in the process.Â
âHey. Ready?â She was shaking she had never walked on a motorcycle.Â
âKinda. Never been on a motorcycle beforeâÂ
âWhat a pleasure to be the your first ride thenâ Harry said giving her a blinking eye and a mischievous smile. âFirst letâs put this thing on youâ he got closer to her with a blue helmet with silver stars in hand.Â
First he caressed her messy curls and then slided the helmet on her head, never taking his green eyes off of her: âyou look perfect with this on, like you belonged on a fast ride, just like this ride Iâm going to give youâÂ
She didnât know how to answer that, she could just blush.Â
âLetâs go?â Nodding with her hand and getting onto the bike with Harry, Lavignia had this nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach: it burned. Every single time he turned a left she would end up brushing her front against his back that was covered by the thin blue shirt. She never felt this spark before, almost like something in her body was screaming for the feel of him. Maybe was the fact they spent the day in the middle of sensual pieces of arts, maybe was the fact that the smell of vanilla on his neck made her think of sex.
And she never thought of sex, never understanding what was the appeal to showcase something it was supposed to be so intimate, and he didnât have any filter when it comes to it. Maybe the almost 4 years without someone between her legs have finally got her and she was going crazy.
After it felt like an eternity in a war with her own thoughts, they came to a stop on a small circle park with 5 houses surrounding the area . All of them were big and out of a art decor movie. They came to a stop in front of one of the houses: this one was yellow with high walls and a lot of plants all over the entrance.Â
âThis is Jeannie Lovelace house. My house is the other one on the other side of the parkâ Harry finally said, without taking his helmet off, pointing towards a house with a bright orange tone to it with rounded windows and a balcony that was exposed for the street, full red roses. âShe is already expecting us, you can go inside, Iâm just gonna drop my bike at my house. Do you live close?â
âNo, I live close to the beach, close to that souvenir shop, you know? Itâs about 30 bus stops from the gallery.â
âYou can stay at my place, if you wantâ he said in a normal tone but a sparkle was found inside his eyes, maybe she wasnât the only one that was left shook from their little trip standing so close together.
âI donât think thatâs a good ideaâ she could admire him, but she couldn't touch. She only knew him for a few hours but she knew it was trouble. And maybe her tone was quite condescending because Harry changed his posture and stopped smiling and just pronounced a small and guilty âokayâ before driving towards his house, acting almost like he was feeling shameful. Before Knocking on the door there was only one thing in her mind: this was going to be an extressfull dinner.Â
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Day 2: Woman with the black stockingsÂ
(Painting they talk about: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/ac/Schiele_-_Frau_mit_schwarzen_StrĂŒmpfen_-_1913.jpg )
âDarling, wake upâ she could feel Jeannie elegant voice talking quietly âitâs almost 9, if you want to be on time to your meeting with Harry, you have to wake up nowâ
Meeting? When did she and Harry settled a meeting hour? Lavâs last memory was from getting another glass of the green drink because she was quite overwhelmed with the conversation topics. She didnât even knew there was so much it could be talked about sex.
âSorryâ she said getting up âmy head is killing me. Thank you for letting me crash here, I donât even remember how I made it to this bedâ she looked around, being in a big room with with walls and drawing of flowers all over it, Lovelace was standing right next to her holding a plate full of food.Â
âOh, darling there is nothing to be sorry for. You should thank Harry, he was the one who carried you over hereâ she said while settling the plate on her lap âbut a little piece of advice? When it comes to absint you donât drink more than 3 shots, now eat. Do you remember what we talked about last night?â
Oh God, she didnât want to hear all of that AGAIN but she had to be honest: âafter my third glass my mind is just a blackout. Iâm so embarrassedâshe said while getting the beautiful croissant and taking a bite of it and it was so good âYou only know me for two days, you are my BOSS and I made a complete fool of myselfâ
âAgain: nothing to be sorry for, everybody in the gallery is like family to me. Not counting Jesse, he is just someone that gives us moneyâŠ. think of him like the awful uncle that everybody has to deal withâ laughing at her own joke âWe just talked about the opening then me and Harry stared to exchange stories⊠that was when you started to drink a little too much.â
âI just⊠I hope this doesnât get me fired but, you all just treat sex like it isnât an act it should be kept in your bed and I got nervous yesterday with the topics of the conversation once we stopped talking business and especially Harry I meanâŠ. I met him when he was talking about a menage he had in search for inspiration to write about an art pieceâ She said with open eyes and exasperated sigh
âLavignia, sweetie, you know that this gallery is about sex right? We showcase pieces with a sensual and sexual background. Also we hold parties, books reading, music. Look at the name we gave it: MORNING AND EXTASEâ
âOh god, Iâm so sorry Mrs. Lovelace, when we talked you only told me about this exposee we are doing and I thought that was it. I know that sensuality and art are two themes that often come together but âŠ.â
âThere is no problem, Lavigniaâ she said in a more serious tone, yeah, Lav was out of a job only on her second day, she was sure of it. âLook, I was so ecstatic to have someone with your resume that I only talked about what we are working on right now. Can I ask you something? Give us a chance, please? Especially Harry, he is a sweet guy who lives and feels everything, he gives himself whole in everything: art, friendship, love, sex. I wish I could have met someone like him when I was younger, I would be married, maybe.â She said with a sweet smile âWhen we are over with the planning of this, if you wish, you can let us go. But try and immerse yourself with us, there is more to the world than âwaking up, growing old and dyingâ. If at the end of this you donât wanna stay, I will find you a job at the most traditional art gallery. But, give us a chance, there is something behind your eyes that longs for something, I can see it, let us show you there is no shame in living.â
Looking at her hands, Laviginia thought about how she was never satisfied, leaving her parents home when they wanted her to get married to their neighbor, going to college in another country, then going to Paris to find a job and failing and now having this big opportunity in her hands: she couldnât say no; so she nodded and got a big hug from the elegant old lady.
âNow, I asked Harry to get you a few clothes âcause I figured you wouldnât want to be another entire day with the same ones. He is already here with the clothes Iâm going to get it for you. Take a shower. Weâll be waiting for you in the living roomâ Jeannie said getting up from her sitting down position in bed but before she could reached the door she turned to Lav and said âand another thing: donât ever call me Mrs again, either Jeannie or Lovelace. Okay?â and with that she left the room and Lav went to shower, knowing she had a chance in her hands and the only person who could mess this chance up.Â
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After taking her shower Lavignia came back to the room to find not only clothes but shoes and underwear and even a perfume, on top there was a note:Â
Lovelace would not forgive me if I got you clothes and didnât bought you a perfume. According to her a woman is naked without a scent. I hope I got the sizing right.Â
H.
PS: I would love to see you wearing the lingerie, this one was all Jeannie.Â
Of course he would said something like that. The clothes consisted of a black mini dress with red little hearts and a high turtleneck, together with black boots and a thigh high black stockings. The lingerie was pretty, a set with a bright cherry color made of lace and satin. She loved looking at the mirror using such a beautiful piece, there was something about her she didnât knew it could be achievable: she looked quite sensual. She felt like she was Twiggy herself (even if she didnât look at all like Twiggy).
Last but not least: the perfume. It was Paris by YSL and it smelled like richness and sex. Of course he wouldnât give any less than something like this. But she couldnât lie, she was grateful for him, Lav knew she was quite harsh to him just the night before with her judgmental looks and words, but even then he got out of this way to help someone he only knew for 24 hours.Â
Getting down the stairs she could ear the light tone of their conversation, something about âopening yourself for loveâ, it seems like Lav was not the only one that was getting a preach from the one and only Jeannie Lovelace.Â
With the sound of her footsteps getting closer, Harry turned around and smiled: âglad I got the sizing right. You look nice.â He was getting up and so was Jeannie
âIâm going to give you guys a ride and then Iâm picking Nessa up, we are going to the train stationâ
âI thought we all were working together todayâ Harry said while walking side by side with both women toward the backdoor that lead to the garage. Jeannie gave them both a big smile:
âEarly this morning I got the news: We got the Corregioâ in that moment Harry lifted Jeannie up and started to kiss her cheeks while saying âI knew you could do itâ.
Antonio da Corregio was an painter from the italian renaissance, being able to get one of his pieces to put on display outside from its home museum in Viena was almost impossible . Lav was looking at the interaction and saw it for the first time: Lovelace saw Harry like a son. They were a little happy family. What she didnât expect was Harry to put Jeannie down and take her into his arms, giving a big hug and involving her in his smell all over again.Â
âNow, letâs go kids. You two have to analyse the Schiele piece and me and Vanessa have a date with Corregioâ. And so they left in a very lilac mercedes.Â
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Laviginia couldnât stop sweating, she was standing side by side with Harry in front of a big painting of a woman sitting down, pushing her skirt up so she could show all of her private parts. With very red lips and nipples and black stockings, very similar to the ones Harry got her, and from his face, she was sure it was not a mere coincidence.
âWhat do you think we should do with this one?â Harry asked
âI think every piece of art tells a story and we have to discuss about this piece, what story does it tells usâ Lav said getting away from the painting and closer to the books she had spread all over the table, looking for her bookmarks about Egon Shiele and any piece of information about his painting The woman with black stockings. She looked over at Harry and he looked relaxed with his with long sleeve shirt full of drawings on the sleeves and blue jeans. He was calm while waiting for her to tell him about whatever piece of information she found on the books. Her mind was going crazy, she was sweating through all of her pores, there was the same unfamiliar warmth in the pit of her stomach and there was Harry, changing his attention between her and the naked woman like they were talking about the weather. Finally she found the information she was looking for in one of the many bookmarks she made âThis dates back to 1913, he got arrested countless time because of his artâŠâ
âItâs ridiculous being arrested for making his art, especially one so intimate but I understand the time but so be it, I hate it when people make sex such a taboo. But please, continue with what you were telling meâ
Cleaning her throat, she continued âaccording to this the reason behinds his arrests were his nude and semi-nude portrayals of his lovers. It also says those portrayls are so beguiling is quite simple: they have a filth quality to it. He likes to portrait his adoration towards woman and sexâ
âWow, thatâs probably the most of dirty talk you have ever made in your life, Iâm proud you got to reading all of this only blushing a bitâ he looked at her with kind eyes and a smirk gracing his beautiful rosĂ© lips âOkay, he wants to show devotion and rawness to it, right? There is this gorgeous woman spread open for him, longing for him as I hope he was longing to get between her legs and get so deep they donât know when one ends and the other begins. I think that the theme of this is want, is the disinhibition, not being ashamed of wanting something that is so goodâ Lav felt like he was talking about her and not the painting âHe has a dirty mind freakness, doesnât only show people what he is seeing, he shows us his desire and let us get into his intimate for one reason: he painted his lovers, people he knew from inside out, people who must have some meaning to him. The fact that he can put together adoration and the most primal act of the human race, takes his art from merely beautiful to widely eroticâ
âWhat does it feel like?â she asked him âbeing able to see and feel and talk about this without feeling like itâs wrong? Being able to let yourself goâ
Harry looked at her and she had no idea what his face was telling her. He was sitting on the floor and pated the place in front of him in a silence request for her to join him. She sat in front of him, folding her legs and looking him in the eye
âI always felt like there was more to life than the one I was leading on, you know? My family came from money, but everything just felt the same, so one day, as soon as I turned 18, I went to Los Angeles, that was 10 years ago, ending of the 60s and beginning of the 70s, David Bowie was still becoming what he is now, Beatles had just broken up Fleetwood Mac didnât have Stevie Nicks. There I met people who showed me more and more of living and then I started writing, becoming myself. It was with my art that made my own money and got kind of famous but I never actually showed my face to magazines till I came to Italy when I heard that the gallery wasnât doing very well, offered to help and I gained a second mother in Lovelace, she was there for me all the time and she was the first one to tell me that I didnât have to be ashamed of who I was, if I like a bit of everything or if I dress quite flamboyant or anything.â Harry smiled â Thatâs what she wants for everybody: have a fulfilling life like hers, without any fears. Itâs all a learning you know, one day at the time, you get there.â Harry took her hand and gave it a kiss âtomorrow weâll all be together to look at the Corregio, you can talk about whatever you are feeling, I promise you: no one is going to judge you.â
âYou know it would be nice to just be able to talk about this without feeling like Iâm going to hell and I donât even believe there is a hell.â
âIf hell is full of people who donât care about labels and know how to have fun⊠I donât wanna go to heaven â Harry smiled âbut you know, Iâm a GREAT teacher, I would love to teach you how to be less awkward when it comes to the theme, after all you are working for a gallery about sexâ
âIâm not having sex with youâ
âGod, Lav, donât be such a pervert, I was talking about being less shy when it comes to talking about it. Come on repeat with me âfuck meâ without blushingâ
âFuck meâ
âNo, fuck meâÂ
âFuck meâÂ
âNoâ
âFuck meâ
âFinally! Thatâs my girl.â Harry said giving a peck to her nose. âNow, how about we go eat a nice gelato, my treat. Then we can come back to talk about the paintingâ
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Day 3: Jupiter and Aphrodite
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/fb/Correggio_028c.jpg
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/fb/Correggio_028c.jpg
âI crave your mouth, you voice, your hair/ Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets/ Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day/ I hunt for the the liquid measure of your stepsâ the words from the poem left Harryâs mouth like honey. When they both arrived early to the gallery, Harry sat on the floor with a poetry book and asked if she wanted him to read for him. âI hunger for you sleek laugh/ your hands the color of savage harvest/ hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails/ I want to eat your skin like a whole almondâ
When Harry said that sentence he stopped briefly and looked at Lavignia, wanting to see her reaction. He didnât choose that poem with no intend, he wanted her to see how sexuality and love could be show on poem, with such a easy passion, no shame. She was looking right at the pearls he was wearing around his neck, thinking he didnât noticed the way she was staring at his chest and necklace, he licked his lips and continued: âI want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body/ the sovereign of your arrogant face/ I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes.
The more Harry read, the more Lavignia was imagining he was doing all the the things quoted, adoring her body with such hunger, she was thanking God that he was close to finish his reading: âAnd I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight/ Haunting for you, for your hot heart/ Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratueâ He closed the book and looked at her:â so, that was the Love Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda, what do you think of it?â
âItâs beautifulâ
âOnly beautiful? What do you feel when you listen to those words. Erotism can also come in form of beautiful words, to show those feelings and to have them returned are a bliss, if is a one night or a lifetime.â
She wanted to be like him, like everybody she met during those 3 days, so she trying to raise her voice and finally say something:
âI feel hunger. Hunger for life. I donât want to feel like itâs wrong to desire someoneâ
Harry got closer to her, almost touching their knees together. The moment he walked through the door last monday he was captivated by the girl wearing the cherry tree print dress. He couldn't stop watching her every movement, how she would stare at each art piece with a passion observation yet timid eyes, how she would like at him like he was from mars, she had so much inside of her screaming to break out of the coffins of her mind and heart, and Lovelace made him promise he would help her, she saw so much of her in Lavignia.Â
âWould you like to try and live the life you always longed for?â he asked her.âYou will never be judged here, that is a promise I make you, in the name of everybodyâ
She was hypnotized by his eyes and the thought of finally exploring whatever she felt since she was younger and everybody always told her how wrong it was: this hunger. Ever since she read the Betty Friedan book âThe feminine mystiqueâ and was shocked to find out that women also could find pleasure in sex just like men. Never having the courage but each day inside the gallery she could feel the same insistent pit in her stomach always asking for moreâ So she just nodded and Harry got even closer, so close she could see the blue and golden inside his eyes and could hear his breathing and smell the mint in his breath.
This guy that just this weekend was having threesomes was going to kiss her shamelessly inside their workplace. And she was going to let him.Â
âGood Morning darlingsâ said the elegant voice of Jeannie coming from the front door âIâm a little bit late but I got fresh macarons from the french bakery close to Nessaâs place. She is just parking the ⊠ohâ Finally looking at the young couple on the floor so close that it was unmistakable that they were about to kiss when the owner of the gallery busted through the door âwellâŠ. young passion, always a good feeling when you just canât wait till you can get home and enjoy each other but please do whatever you were going to do away from the art pieces, we wouldnât want another incident like the party we threw back in 75â
Harry gave Jeannie a cheeky smile while the only thing Lavignia could feel was shame, absolut and complete shame. Opening her mouth to defend the situation she found herself in:Â
âBut we werenât going toâŠâ
âLavignia you know Iâm the biggest and most precious work of art from our little galleryâ Harry said at the same time she was trying to come up with any excuse, looking at her while getting up and offering his hand.
âOh Harry if I was 30 years younger you wouldnât scape meâ Jeannie answered. Today she was using a elegant bright red dress and a scarf around her head and by the smile on her face, Lav understood what they were trying to do: they wanted her to feel comfortable so they were joking to show her there was no problem in whatever they were doing.
âNow, enough talking we have two pieces to figure it out today and Harry where the fuck is the Semmel?â Lovelace said taking her heels off and started to walk around, checking everything they had already done. There was still 3 pieces for them to figure out how they would showcase.Â
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They were all sitting on the bench Harry dragged to the middle of the room, with watchful eyes resting on Lavignia that was right in the middle of two art pieces. They all were waiting for her to begin her explanation:Â
âSo, if you look at my right, we have the famous Correggio painting: Jupiter and Io, dated back 1530. So, we all know the Romans saw Jupiter as the equivalent of the Greek god Zeus. According to the tale, he was attracted to everything that was beautiful, especially Io, she was one of Heraâs priestess. Jupiter was always tempted by others beauty and would disguise himself to be closer to them. In the case of the Correggioâ she said posting towards the bluish god that was encasing the woman in a sensual way âhe took the form of a velvet fog to reach for Ioâ pointing through naked woman encased by the fog, she took a break, waiting to see if they wanted to add something but Jeannie just gave her a small smile, telling her to continue: âitâs from the Italian renaissance, as we all know and the technique is oil on canvas, itâs height is around 5â4 and is has been in the Austria museum since the XVI centuryâÂ
Harry raised his hand not wanting to disrupt her talking, he was quite fond of the way she lost all of her shyness and insecurities when it comes to art. When she was done she looked at Harry when he raised from his sitting position to get closer to the painting:Â
âIf we look next to her face, we can see a face form itself on the fog, thatâs Jupiter, right? He is there taking her pleasure as his own and giving his pleasure to her as her own. Itâs a mutual feeling, she isnât dreaming about the fog, he is there. This is such an erotic turn, showing us this woman being involved with this fog, her face looks like she was being pleasured. Itâs about the feeling of letting go, she was letting herself being encased by this fog, encased by desireâ turning his face to the redhead sitting close to Lovelace he asked âwhat do you think, Nessa?âÂ
Crossing her long legs that were covered by a letter flared jumpsuit she stayed quiet, taking the pairing calmly.Â
âI think I wanna hear about the Aphrodite before making a decisionâÂ
Harry pinched Lavignia cheeks lightly as if saying: come on, we are waiting.Â
Lavignia was looking at the piece. The three naked woman with no shame, laying together on top of the blue satin sheets: one was laying down with her hands above her head, the other was on her fours atop of the laying girl and the third was encasing the the same girl that has her eyes closed in delight. It was clear that she was the one they were intending to adore, she was Aphrodite.Â
âAphrodite is one of the famous goodness, she is the goodness of love and beauty, she was responsible for the perpetuation of life, pleasure and joyâŠâ Lav lost her train of thoughts the moment she looked at Harry.Â
He looked calm, standing so next to her, listening so attentive, as if every word that came from her mouth was precious to the subject. His eyes were extremely green thanks to the green and blue crochet vest he was wearing together with a high waisted jeans but everytime he raised his arms she could see a bit of his soft belly and what it seemed to be a butterfly tattoo.Â
âEarth to Lavignia?â said the fant voice of Jeannie. Shaking her head a muttering a small âsorryâ, she continued:
âAnyway, this illustration on paper was made for the Pierre Louysâs book, the artist is Maurice Ray, we donât know the date but itâs from the 19th century, so itâs nearly not as old as the Correggio, so if we want to sort by date: we canât. They are too far apart. We have to find the common ground beside both being created after myth. But we donât have much on the creator of the illustration to help us built the story. It could be helpfulâÂ
âYou knowâ Harry started âitâs good when people donât know the life of an artist. I mean, I donât want people to read my poetry and think what inspired me. Like my âcherryâ poem, and think âitâs about his last girlfriend who left his heart brokenâ, I want people to look at my art and take it as their own. The moment I give it to the world, itâs not mine anymore. Each person has their own claim for the piece, their own meaning, their own story. I look at those pieces and I donât wanna know if the woman in Correggio was the one that got away, I wanna look and see what this makes me feel, how this tells me a storyâÂ
Harry had a girlfriend who broke his heart? Does he always write from his own perspective? Where can she find one of his poems? She wants to know more about the boy who seemed to never look anything but a full rainbow with his colours and happiness.Â
âSo, we only have now to work with Sunlight to finish the preparations for the grant opening. Nessa is everything okay with the catering?âÂ
âYes, I spoke to the cantina owner, you know, Angelo. He invited us to have dinner there today, so we can try everything he wants to bringâ then opening her purse and getting a red notebook âI think we have everything covered: food, drinks, journalist to come, photographers, invitations has been send. I think the only thing lacking is the Sunlight⊠Harry, where the fuck is the Sunlight?â
His eyes opened and he looked a little bit frightened at Vanessa: âshit, Nessa, donât pull those eyes on me, I always get scared. I promise: it will be here, okay?â nervously he looked at both Jeannie and Vanessa, and then at Lavignia, in a suplic for a little help.Â
âWhat time should we be at the cantina?â she changed the subject
âIn a few hours, itâs only 2 pm now, maybe at 6, the music is going to start at 6 but we know nothing actually works on time hereâ
âOkay, so maybe letâs just revise everything? And maybe finally find the order we want to exhibit everything? Lav, do you have any idea?â
âI can only think the cliche: year and techniqueâÂ
âWe have been here for the last four hours searching, reading, talking about those paintings. Can we do it tomorrowâ Asked Nessa, raising her arms to stretch.
âSure, how about you two go and write all that has been discussed today while me and Harry talk business in the office upstairs?â Lovelace said, taking Harry by the hand and leading him to the stairs that stood almost in a hidden part of the gallery.
When they were long gone, Vanessa questioned if she knew that they werenât going talk business and when she didnât respond, she continued:
âHarry ex-girlfriend cheated on him and then left with some french preppy guy saying he wasnât the one because she could never deal with his ways. This was almost a year ago, he was pretty depressed, to be honest, cried a lot, never wanted to sleep aloneâÂ
âDoes he ever want to sleep alone?â
âYou know, you are fast to judge people, when I think you are opening up to us... â she stopped to get one of the posters for the gallery and pointed towards the front exit, needing help to put the poster in its place.
When Lavignia thought she wasnât going to hear anymore of that, she finally continued the talk: âhe hates being alone. He practically moved to Lovelaceâs house for the first month, was always listening to Fleetwood Macâs Landslide, crying. Actually, I think during those first three months he only took one person to bed and he cried during it. He started to get better when he wrote his book, travelled all around Asia, he vanished for maybe 45 days. When he got back, he was him again. Maybe a better version of himselfâ
âWhy are you telling me all of this, you donât even know if Iâm going to stay at the gallery or Iâm gonna take the other jobâ
âYou know⊠I can see in your eyes, the sparkle when you talk about those pieces, when you let yourself go. But then, it's like something turns it on in your brain, almost like itâs short circuiting, and then⊠you stop, you blush and you give us judgmental staresâ
âYou know, I canât help itâ
âI knowâ Nessa said with a faint smile âbut we can help youâ
.
They were all laughing over bottles of chardonnay and pasta, Lovelace was in the middle of telling one of her many stories about the roaring 30 and all that she done back in New York. They got there half an hour ago, the music crew were beginning to put all the instruments over the small stage. The cantina was only two blocs from the gallery. They were sitting outside, in a round table with red and white tablecloth, with fairy lights to illuminate the place, trees that gave the place a certain fairy look.
When they arrived, there was a petite black woman with a sundress and braids on her hair, she recognized to be Nessaâs fiance, but she couldnât bring herself to remember her name, no matter how much she tried.
When they sat, she was in the middle of Jeannie and Harry. She could feel his arms brushing her back every time he talked.Â
âGuarda se non sei la donna piĂč bella di tutto il nord italiaâ said a tall man, he must be around his sixties. Very blue eyes, gray hair and charming smile. He had honeyd voice, and man, she really needs to improve her Italian if she wants to stay.
âQuindi mi ci abituo, Angelo. E come sempre: il cibo Ăš delizioso.â
They continued to talk for a bit, Lavignia ended up losing the conversation, looking at the small stage, that now had a singer, maybe she was finally going to be introduced to some good italian song besides Volare.
âPerdona la mia mancanza di istruzioneâ he looked at Lav âsei nueva qui, guisto? La tua nuova ragazza, Harry? Che bellaâ
âNei miel piĂč grandi sogni, forseâ God, Harryâs voice sounded even more charming in italian âLavignia Ăš il nuovo impiegato della galleria. Ma penso she dovremmo parlare in ingleseâ
âI am so sorry, my dearestâ he said with a very strong accent â I didnât knew you didnât speak Italian. Itâs a pleasure to meet you, Iâm Angelino and welcome to my humble restaurantâ
âThank you so much. I know a bit of Italian, but itâs the language I speak the least and with all the noise and people talking at the same time, it gets hard to understandâ
In that moment, the song beguin to play âOur music guess is starting now, if you excuse me⊠Jeannie, mi concede questo ballo?â taking her hand he lead her to the dancefloor, followed by Nessa and Cathy, who she finally remembered the name.
âAnd then they were twoâ Harry whispered turning to herÂ
She took another bite of the pasta containing a moan while Harry finished his glass, getting another bottle and pouring for both of themâ
âIt was my bad Italian or Jeannie and Mr. Charming over there were flirting?â Harry smirked with her statement:
âYou are absolutely, right. They flirt all the fucking time. Itâs cute but sometimes I just want to push them towards a bedroom with a very big bed and say they can only leave after they fucked their brains outâ
The more they talked, the more Harry got closer. He asked about her life before Italy and she asked about his book. She told about how she was trapped with her parents even after she graduated, so she left. He told her about his traveling through Asia, the people he met, how he went to a David Bowie show in Japan, that each city he visited brought him back to himself.Â
âYou know, maybe...can I buy one of your books?â she asked, with a timid glint all over her eyes âI just want to know what type of art you writeâ
âOh, my poetry is all about having sex and feeling sadâ
âWell, I still want to. I might blush a lot and maybe wonât be able to look you in the eyes on the first few days, but then Iâll get over itâ
âHow about this, you dance with me and tomorrow I give you my book to read. DealâÂ
âDealâ shaking hands then getting up towards the dancefloor.Â
Putting both of his hands on her hips, Harry got closer. They could listen to the calming voice of the singer. Softly singin the chorus of the song, with his mouth close to her ear.Â
Lavignia could smell his cologne and feel the heat from his body, almost like he was encasing her in a protection spell from the wind.Â
âYou seem to know the words to the song. Who is this guy?â
âOh, he is Pino Daniele, right now he only performs at small bars, weddings. But all of his songs are so good, give him a few years and Iâm sure heâll be big, at least here in Italy. Thatâs for sureâÂ
After that they were quiet for a moment, she was trying to catch the words to the song. Feeling distracted by the environment they had: fairy lights, the jazz with a popish sound to it, people dancing without a care, everything so colorful. The heat of the summer night was disguised because of the slightly cold wind that came from being close to the beach. Harry cleaned his throat to get her attention:
âI need your help. The Joan Semmel painting is so hard for me to decipher and I think I know why, she painted from such a tender female point of view. And I know I could ask anyone to help me, but I love how in love with art you are. How you lose yourself describing and talking about the piecesâÂ
âOkay, I can help. But are you sure Jeannie and Nessa wonât be mad?âÂ
âI already talked to Jeannie and Nessa a little bit before we had to leave the gallery, actuallyâ the slower song came to an end but they couldnât let each other go. There was comfort in this embrace and light conversation. Almost like they had done this a thousand times before.Â
âYou could come by my place tomorrow. We can fix this, maybe I can read some of my poems, since youâre so curiousâÂ
âSure, what time?âÂ
âAround lunch? There is no hurry since itâs close to eight and I donât think weâll be going home anytime soonâÂ
She had a night full of dancing and wine ahead of her. She could only wonder what would happen tomorrow when the sun came out.Â
Day 4: Office Love https://www.phillips.com/detail/A/NY040210/233
The sky was cloudy when Lavignia knocked on the mahogany door. The house from the outside was already beautiful, with vines all over the place, the orange color of the wall and big door.Â
âHeyâ Harry said while opening the door, dressed in just a satin robe âI was drawing, I lost track of time. Would you like to come in?âÂ
The door lead her to his living room, there was a big hello round couch, with red walls and a Indian tapestry. The red walls were full of art pieces - all of them pretty much leaning on the sensual side - the three ceiling to floor windows gave a beautiful view of the street and grey sky.Â
âFeel like youâre at your own home, okay? Please put your shoes over thereâ he said pointing towards a small cabinet âIâm just going to put on some clothes and Iâm be backâÂ
With Harry upstairs, she was left alone to wander through the living room. There were magazines and vinyls all over the place as well as books about a few of the artists they were going to exhibit. He was doing his homework, apparently.Â
But then something got hold of her attention: it was a black and white photograph. It seemed like it was an office, a typical American one. With two big windows and a rectangular desk but there, laying at the same desk, there was a barely dressed woman with her breast out and a man -completely dressed- devouring the womanâs chest.Â
âDo you like the work of Helmut Newton?â She heard Harryâs voice just behind her, when she turned around there he was with a graphic white t shirt full of little watermelons drawings and jeans shorts.Â
âYou scared me, you walked down the stairs really quietâÂ
âI wasnât quiet, you were just really paying attention to the photograph. So do you like Helmuts job?âÂ
âI never heard of him âtill todayâÂ
âWell⊠he is a German photographer and is known for his studies of the female body. He worked a lot with Yves Saint Laurent and that was actually how I met him, I loved his fashions editorials of the brand. Then when I was at the fine arts museum in Boston last year, I saw this photograph. He was touring with his new exhibition when I bought this one. But it only arrived last month, when the tour was doneâÂ
He was side by side with her, looking at the piece for a few seconds before continuing his explanation: âthe name of this photograph is Office Love. When I had the chance to talk to him he said he wanted his photographs to arouse. And they do, because he so boldly explores his longings. But, in my personal opinion, what makes his art so sexy is his obvious belief that sex in the most important thing in the worldâ he looked at Lavignia âso, what do you think?âÂ
She looked at him with wide eyes and open mouth.Â
âYou donât have to say anything to me, okay? But think about this painting when youâre alone. I lost the count of how many times I sat on this same couch looking at her and imaging it was me on the picture. Especially this weekâ did he said what she thinks he said? âAnyway, would you like to eat something before we start? I brought my book with me, thought we could eat a peanut butter sandwich and Iâll read somethingâ. When she nodded, Harry took her hand and lead her towards the kitchen.Â
.
His kitchen was all black and white: black and white tiled floor, black electrical appliance with white walls. Black table with white chairs.Â
He made the sandwiches and got them a glass full of water. When they were halfway done, he got one his book and asked what type of poem she would like to hear.Â
âAnything. Just want to get to know your artâÂ
âIâll just open randomly thenâŠâ and when he did, his smile flared a little bit, maybe this poem represents a sad moment in his life. When she was close to telling him that there was no need for him to read if it hurted him, he cleared his throat and said: âthis is The cherry sonetâÂ
Along with the cherry trees came hopeless sorrow
The cherry color reminds me that Iâll still hurt tomorrow
Dreams of you erupted in my wakingÂ
My broken heart is still yours for the takingÂ
When you met him, did he called you ïżœïżœïżœcherriĂšâ?
When you kissed him, did you remembered me?Â
And when you left me
Did you feel like you were finally free?Â
But donât you call him babyÂ
Donât you dareÂ
To call him what you used to call meÂ
But donât you call him babyÂ
Donât you dare
To call him what you used to call himÂ
She felt tears in her eyes, that was the first time he was avoiding looking at her. Closing the book he gave her and whispered âitâs yours. Take care of itâÂ
âHarry, Iâm so sorry. No one deserves to feel this heartbreakâÂ
âIt was a long time ago. I donât miss her, I donât even love her anymore. But every time I remember what she done to me and how much pain I went through my hearts remembers the heartbreak.âÂ
âI understand if you donât wanna talk about it, but, who was she?âÂ
âHer name doesnât matter. She lived here for a while, I fell in love so deeply, I donât think I was ever in love before her. It was like the world gained color and I didnât have to be so lonely, anymore. I was still trying to figure it out where I stood in the world, and for that to work out, I tried to be the perfect match for her. I think i lost a bit of me when I lost her. But that was never truly me, you knowâ he paused to drink some water â She didnât like how I treated matters of privacy. She didnât like the theme of the gallery and she didnât like Lovelace either. Said she was a bad influence. So to prove her I could work with other themes, I made this work with a French gallery owner. She cheated on me with him.âÂ
âHarry⊠I donât know what to say to you. I never fell in love and donât even remember liking someone that liked me back, you know? I donât know much about you, but I can see that youâre good and you donât deserve any of thatâÂ
He got her hand that was over the table and took in his. Not saying anything but it was like their conversation was happening without needing any words.Â
âI think we need to work on the Semmel. Do you want me to bring here or would you mind if we go to my music room. I left it thereâÂ
.
The music room consists of a place full of music instruments, more vinyls and more books. With pillows and tapestry all over the floor, there was no couch or chair. If you wanted to sit, you had to sit on the floor. On the far left of the room there was a painting with a purple bed sheet covering everything.Â
âReady?â He pulled the sheet and she was left marvelous.Â
Joan Semmel is a New Yorker painter and writer. Most of her works are about the female point of view. But, even with the knowledge about the artistâs life, nothing could prepare Lav for the pairing ahead of her: it was a woman sitting down on her bed, relaxed and completely naked. She was touching her body and her body was golden from the sunlight. You couldnât see her face, she was painting from her point of view.Â
âYou know I can write about any perspective but Iâm having trouble with this one because it shows such a intimate view of the womanâs body. I called Lovelace to help me as soon as we got the thing but she said âdarling Iâm too old to remember the feeling of looking down at a younger version of my bodyâÂ
Lavignia couldnât mutter a word, she was too much hypnotized by the work. And also jealous: she doesnât know what it is to be naked on her own bed just taking in her own body. She didnât knew that could be so much freedom when youâre ânormalâ. Because one thing is too see Bowie and Jagger preaching sexual freedom. She thought it was made for the ones that had an unusual life. But here she was meeting people that had no problem with showing themselves to her.Â
âSo, what do you think?â Harry asked her.Â
âShe has a classic technique of color mixing andâŠâ
âDarling I know all of that part. I need your take about the painting, whatâs the feeling behind that and what it compares to true life, and then, together, we can figure it out how to fit inside the theme, how to display it and finally decide the story we are going to tell with Love and Sex because, Iâm sorry, my dove, but we have such an unique gallery and exhibit that I donât want to waste it with cliche display options, I know we only have two days but if we think something NOW, we have tomorrow and the entire morning of saturday to fix it.â
It was too much. It was too much. It was too much.Â
This isnât right. This isnât right. This isnât right.Â
So Lavignia almost screamed without having second thoughts:Â
âThatâs not right, I canât go on and talk about that! She had her thoughts while doing this piece, but there must exist this lack of control when people make such works. Life HAS to have control, Harry. YES itâs a wonderful piece but I donât feel anything while looking at itâÂ
âYouâre lying. I can tell when youâre looking at me like thatâ Harry said with a sad yet angry look upon his eyes âyour problem is that you never let yourself lose control. You donât think I notice... but I do. You give everyone the same staring eyes, judgmental eyes when you remember about your âlack of controlâ. When Jeannie asked us to give you a chance, I went with an open heart. I just undressed my soul to you while reading that poem, I thought you were different from her, she judged me and left me. And here you are judging me. How many days till you walk away from the gallery? When we are on the day of the opening and you leave us with all of the work it should be also yours? We are a family down at the gallery and you have no right to fuck that up with your precious controlâ his voice started to raise âbut let me tell you one thing: one day you are going to have a cock so deep in you that youâll feel it on your tummy, fingers messing with your button and a tongue down your throat and youâre going to find down there is more to life than your precious controlâÂ
He turned his back and finally said: âGet out of my house, Iâll call Lovelace and ask her to fix the Semmel for me. I donât think I will go to the gallery until the opening, I canât look at you when youâre looking at me like Iâm sick. If you want to stay, we all are going to welcome you with open arms. If you still want to learn how to let go of your prejudice like you said it to me yourself: Iâm here. But as long as you are judging us and messing with people's hard work: I canât look at you.â He gave her one final look and opened his mouth one last time: âdo me a favor and only go Saturday if you are willing to try. If thatâs not what you want itâs not fair to you to continue to suffer what our daily works entails. And itâs not fair to us to be kept on the fence if youâll stay or not. And itâs not fair to me to be lead on and think I have a chance of you being mineâÂ
And with that he left the room. Letting Lavinia alone with her own thoughts. She had to get of his house. She need to talk with someone.Â
She needed Jeannie Lovelace.Â
.
She knocked one time.Â
Nothing.
Another.
Nothing.
One more time and Lavignia would go home and pack.
The door was opened.Â
âDarling, are you alright?â Said Jeannie Lovelace. She was with a beautiful black silk skirt, barefoot and a simple white shirt: âI thought you and Harry were going to spend the day together. Come in, come inâÂ
She went inside still paralyzed. Jeannie lead her towards the nearest couch (the heart shaped one) and said: âLaviginia, do you want a hug?â
She hugged the old lady that smelled like lavender. She felt at home. She cried.
âWhat happened? Do I need to go and kill Harry?â
âI think Iâm the one that needs the killingâ and so she begging the story. From the time they met, to all the flirst, how Harry tried to help her to feel at home and more comfortable with her own skin and nature. Told about the flirting and the night before. And then⊠told her about what happened just a few minutes ago. When she was done, Jeannie looked at her and finally started to talk:Â
âLav, I donât think he was right to say those things, but I donât think you were right to judge so harshly. You know, we are what life made usâ she paused âI canât talk about you, I just met you. I hired you not only because of your knowledge and because we needed someone with your background, I could easily get somenome from Rome for that. But it was because I trust my instincts and it felt like there was a little fairy whispering to me âsheâs the one you needâ. I donât know how much do you want to open up, but Iâm hereâÂ
Lavignia opened her mouth without even thinking âdo you know why I was in Paris? Because after I graduated my father told me that now that I could say I was educated and fulfilled my âfeminist dreamâ I should go back to real life and marry. He wanted me to marry the neighbor, by the way. When I said no, he just told me to leave. I still had a bit of money and one of my classmates was French, so thatâs where I went.âÂ
âYou know, for someone that is so afraid of life, you are quite braveâÂ
âSo Iâve been toldâ she paused âbut⊠how will this fix the shit Ihave done to him?âÂ
âMy darling, he is no stranger to heartbreak. He is a free spirit, yes, but he longs to have someone to be free with him. There was something about you that made him feel enchanted, the same way he was some time ago with that girl⊠but she wasnât the one for himâ
âBut I have done the same thing: I was quick to me judgmental with himâÂ
âThere is a huge quote by the one and only AnaĂŻs Nin that goes like this: âYou live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book⊠or you take a trip⊠and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awakenâ. Do you understand that, darling?â
âI do. How do you remember so much of this big quote?â
âBecause it was thanks to this book that I woke up. You see, my family had same expectations for me. But imagine that 40 years ago⊠women barely could go to university. It was - still is, sadly - a manâs world. But, day by day, we can get our space. And thatâs in everything, including sex. Donât be ashamed to own your power. Own your body. Give your life everything what it deserves. Think of you first. And⊠when you find out who you are and if that person wants people like us as your friends, will be here. If you want Harry to be with you, he will be. And he will take you on your craziest adventures because come on⊠heâs an aquariusâÂ
âIâm a LibraâÂ
âItâs a good matchâ Lovelace laughed âwould you like some wine? I was about to drink some rosĂ©?âÂ
One hour later they had bruschetta and one bottle of wine almost finished. She was listening to Lovelace talk about her adventures and, unlike last Monday, she was lovinâ it. That woman had such good stories.Â
Maybe was the wine but Lavignia finally had the courage to ask: âDo you think Harry will forgive me?âÂ
âDarling, the moment you said yes to the wine, I know he will forgive youâÂ
âWhy?â
âBecause you stayedâ
.
Day 5: sunlightÂ
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joan_Semmel#/media/File%3AThe_Jewish_Museum's_Wikipedia_Edit-a-Thon_20.jpg
Lavignia woke up with the rays of the sun hitting her face. She looked at the window and it was completely opened. Didnât she close it last night?Â
After all the drinking and talking with Jeannie, she called her a taxi so she didnât have to ride the bus alone and slightly intoxicated.Â
Looking at the clock she had beside the mattress on the floor - she really didnât have time to make her complete move just yet so her small loft was quite simple: off white walls, a dresser, a kitchen, her mattress and a little door to the bathroom with a a bathtub. There were boxes all over the floor, the Sunday after the opening she would fix everything, maybe paint the walls and get a few posters: one of Stevie Nicks, one of Frida Khalo and one of Bridget Bardot: her most divine life examples.Â
Looking at her door, she saw her blue knee high boots and her purse and inside her purse she could see just a little bit of the light pink and blue book cover.Â
Maybe ⊠she could?Â
She really didnât want to get up so she crawled towards her purse and got the book. She could imagine his reaction to her crawling for something of his.Â
Back to her bed, Lavignia was lost looking at the book cover, trying to catch all of the details. One side was blue and the other pink. The front cover he had the name âFine Lineâ and there was a drawing of him laying down, naked. But you couldnât see nothing, just the contour lines. Nothing else. At the back of the book there was a simple quote:Â
This is a story about my journey.Â
The one where I found and lost love.Â
But I found myself.Â
Do you know who you are?Â
As soon as the book was opened, Lavignia found the dedication, it was for his mother and Jeannie - who he calls his American mother. Then, there was a list of 15 poems and prose with the number of pages next to it: the cherry tree sonet, I saw an angel; from the hallway I write you this poem; donât call me baby, again; the fruits of your body; the lights; golden as the sun; adoration; sex is medicine; summertime and butterflies; from Tokyo, with love; the little gallery.Â
What was better? Reading the book from the beginning or do just like Harry did not even 24 hour ago and choose randomly. Lavignia went with the later. This time it was a little prose:
AdorationÂ
I like the love language our eyes share. When we are so together laying in bed with the sounds of the city having a conversation behind the windows. We are so close that I can feel our lashes touch. Do you know I adore you?Â
There are words you canât say yet. And I understand, darling. You donât have to say you love me. But I have to tell you: I adore you.Â
Please, let me adore you
I adore youÂ
I love youÂ
Reading this made her understand more about him. Lovelace wasnât lying when she said Harry feels everything to its maximum. He was so pure when it comes to the matter of the heart. She felt so guilty for how she treated him. But she knows that at the time she was a different person than she is now, just a day later. All thanks to Jeannie and her AnaĂŻs Nin quote. Wanting to read another, she opened the book in a random page, this time it was a poem:Â
The fruits of your bodyÂ
From the tangerine smell of your bodyÂ
To the dreams I have of your lipstickÂ
Itâs strawberry lick, isnât?
From the way you hold my bodyÂ
To the way you make me love it
Itâs sultriness, isnât?Â
From taste of watermelonÂ
That slips all the way down your legsÂ
I suck it all up. Donât I?Â
From the way you make me grow
To the way you make me shiverÂ
Iâm at your feet
Yours.Â
Yours while youâll have me.Â
Yours.Â
As long as the fruit season lasts.Â
I hope it lasts forever
The more she read, hotter she felt. It was never like this. She ripped her dress off. She ripped her underwear off. She wanted to get off. For the first time.Â
But how?Â
And then she remembered something a certain curly haired man with a mustache told her: âthink about it when youâre aloneâ.Â
That painting. That damn painting. All of the art pieces she looked this week. The smell of him. The way his body moved. The way he looked at her. She was on fire. The sunlight coming from the window ignited the fire on her body. She was finally on fire.Â
Looking down at her body, knowing she was treasure map, ready to be discovered. So her journey begins:
A light touch to her neck, with the tip of her finger. The heat grows inside. Her breast so full of desire: she grabbed them. Massages them. Pinching each one of her nipples. Changed the pressure. Moaned and arched her body. She needed more but she didnât want to stop her exploring, so she raised to her knees, getting one of her pillows.Â
Right between her legs. With her hands getting acquainted with herself she rolled her hip and thought of green eyes watching her. Would he have a smile on his face? She hopes so. Because she is so fucking proud of herself. She was a queen in search of the pleasure she never had the right before.Â
Her body. Her pleasure. Her orgasm.Â
When she got tired from riding the pillow she laid down again. Her hands went to her heat. And she touched and touched and touched.Â
And then⊠sunlight. She was covered in light. She was the sunlight. Her body reactions is like a morning light: beautiful and so unique.Â
When she had finally calmed herself she looked around. And something just clicked.Â
Getting up and taking a shower was the first thing she needed to do. Then⊠Lavignia would run as fast as she could to the gallery: she knew what to do about the opening.Â
Day 6: perfume https://fineartamerica.com/featured/perfume-1910-luigi-russolo.html
Lavignia was going to have a syncope. She was sure of it. The sun was finally setting but it was still hot. Hotter than ever. And if she didnât hurry she was going to be late for the opening.Â
The silk white dress Lovelace gave her was from her own wardrobe. âFrom my peach daysâ she called. The dress had thin straps and it reached mid thigh with a fringe assuming the rest of the outfit till it reached her ankle. It was a true fastidious dress from the 30s. And she felt in character.Â
Just the day before Laviginia stayed back at the gallery till almost 3am together with Jeannie and Vanessa (and Cathy, she got there with dinner for them and stayed to help).Â
It was hard but the moment she told her idea, Jeannie and Vanessa fell in love with it. It was original and so in touch with everything the gallery stood for.Â
Sitting on the bus she looked at the the street. It was almost night time and people were starting to begin their Saturdays festivities. Lavignia felt her stomach turn and turn, the closer she got to the bus stop the more her nerves were making her crazy.Â
She was going to do the presentation. Yes, that was Jeannie and/or Harryâs job. But well⊠it would be a miracle if he showed up today and Lovelace said it was all Lavignia, so she is the one that making all the talking.Â
Getting out of the bus was easy. Finding her around the streets that lead to Mattina ed Estasi was easy. There was music and people talking loudly. From the window of an old building she could see the shadow of a couple making love.Â
But the moment she saw the red Harley, nothing was easy. Her heart was beating fast. Harry was already there. He probably saw the way they fixed everything. Just the paintings with a small description to it. The order didnât offer any technical logic. Maybe he was mad. Maybe he was curious. Maybe he was just as anxious as she.Â
But Lavignia knew she wouldnât get her answer if she just stood there. She had to walk through those doors and face everything.Â
She was ready.Â
.
The moment she was inside the gallery she felt so proud of herself. Looking at all the pieces circling the space. Forming a cycle. A love and sex cycle. And four of those pieces where on the center stage: first is Sunlight, followed by Correggio and the Aphrodite, the gods and goodness deserved to be together. And, finally, the one she was so afraid on her second day of work but became one of Lavâs favorite art pieces to ever exist: the women with the black stockings.Â
When she dressed today, she was inspired by the painting. But, instead of black, it was white. White lace and see through lingerie her friend from France gave her but she never had the courage to wear - till today - with white stocking. A little innocent gif, if Harry was willing to open when the night is over.Â
And by the way⊠where is Harry? The opening was only for another hour and she knows she was the last one here.Â
âOh, youâre finally here. Goodâ she heard Nessaâs low voice. Dressed in a black glittery jumpsuit with wide legs and a heart shaped cut in the chest area. Looking like the disco goodness she was âLovelace was getting worried. You look beautiful, by the wayâ giving her a small kiss on the cheek she continued âI have to go and see if all of the catering is ready but Lovelace and Harry are upstarts. Any second now⊠okay?âÂ
And she was alone again. But not for long.Â
She could smell him before she could actually see him. The same vanilla and tobacco. But if Lavignia thought she was feeling a little bit woozy with his smell. Nothing could prepare her for the outfit he choose: white trousers and tank top with a white blazer. Something John Travolta would wear. He had a bit of scruff but his mustache was still the first thing she noticed in his face, together with the pink sunglasses.Â
Harry was looking at her, frozen at the top of the copper stairs. Â
âWe matchâ she said about the all white assembly they both were wearing.Â
âYou cameâÂ
And he gave her a small smile. Maybe not everything was lost.Â
.
Even with their little exchange, Harry hasnât talked to her. The opening was keeping everybody busy. There was photographers and journalist to entertain. A lot of people from the villa, too.Â
From the corner of her eye, she could see Jeannie in her bright pink spaghetti dress talking to Angelino. He was wearing a blue velvet suit. They fitted together.Â
The clock read 8:47 pm, more 13 minutes and she would go to the little stage and do the presentation. She was nervous. Lavignia was in need of a drink.Â
As if he heard her thoughts, Harry got closer to her for the first time in the evening with a champagne glass:
âYou look nervous. Everything is perfect, you can relaxâ he said, with a faint smile. Up close she could see the birds tattooed in his chest âand donât you look quite dazzling tonightâÂ
âThanks. You look quite handsome yourselfâ accepting the glass and taking a big gulp, her shoulders finally relaxing a bit âIâm nervous about the presentationâÂ
âDonât be. Lovelace always dazzles everyone. And Iâm quite curious to find out why she chose this order to present the worksâÂ
He didnât know.Â
âShe didnât. I did. And Iâm doing the presentation. Iâm so nervousâ Harry looked at her with shocked eyes. Then he looked around. Then back at her, finally taking his glasses off and looking right inside her eyes:Â
âThen can you help me make sense of everything?â
âI think Iâll let you find out with the rest of the people hereâÂ
âWhy are you teasing me so much? I wouldnât do thatâÂ
âNo, you would do worseâ she looked at him with a glint inside the honey color of her eyes âactually, I think you will do worse to me, one way or anotherâÂ
âDepends, if youâre a good girl then it wonât exist any teasing. So come on⊠enlighten me. Tell me why everything is organized like thisâÂ
âItâs a story. And thatâs everything Iâm gonna tell you right nowâ even with their light conversation, Lavignia felt like there was an elephant in the room, so she finally decided to talk about it âcan we talk? You know⊠about what happened?âÂ
âAfter this, maybe?âÂ
âWhy arenât you upset with me? I thought I would have to get on my knees and beg for you to talk to me todayâÂ
âYou stayed. The moment you decided to stay, I decided to give you a little bit of my heart. But after the presentation, we can steal a bottle of champagne and go to the office upstairsâ he took the bit of her hair that was loose and fixed behind her ear âabout getting on your knees: you still can, darlingâ smiling he gave her his own glass âand there is my favorite embarrassed little girl. Now drink, Jeannie is going to the stage right now, your presentation will start soon.Â
The anticipation she felt about the promise of an âlaterâ with Harry was only bigger than the wheels that were turning inside her stomach. Lovelace was getting up on the stage, god she was going to die.Â
âLadies, gentlemen and everything that is in between, good night and welcome to our new exhibition: Love and Sexâ people were clapping and shouting âBefore telling the story behind those pieces, I wanna thank Angelino, from Villaggio dellâamore, for making such a delicious dinner for us. Also I would like to thank Vanessa, she works for the gallery since 1975 and since she got here, we only got better the same goes to Harry âshe said posting her glass towards Nessa then Harry âyou not only came here and invested in our little gallery but you gave us so much more, most of the pieces from today wouldnât be here if it wasnât for you. You had this idea and with our little help, we created this magic. So thank youâ he raised his glass and say something in Italian that she couldnât quite pinpoint with all the clapping.Â
âNow, not long ago our family got a new member. She came here with her doubts but the moment she allowed the pleasure behind the art envolve her completely, she changed this exhibit for the better and today sheâs going to be the one to talk to you. Graduated in Arts in Communication and my new adoptive daughter: LavigniaâÂ
Harry gave her a small pat on the but like saying âyouâre upâ.Â
When Lavignia climbed the three steps to the little stage, she could feel like she was shaking. When she hugged Lovelace, she was shaking. The moment she saw all of those people faces, she was shaking. But when she saw his smile, she wasnât shaking. He gave her peace of mind.Â
âThank you, Jeannie, for the lovely introductionâ he gave her a not âWelcome to Love and Sex, today, we are going to tell you a little storyâÂ
âFrom the start of the day, we have this huge Sunlight, a piece from Joan Semmel. Sunlight here isnât only the signal of a new day that begins. When we talk about Love and Sex, we also talk about the discover of yourself. Know your pleasure, own your pleasure. Make love to your own body. You will never get the meaning of true love or sex, unless you become acquainted with yourself. Inside out. Thatâs what Sunlight is about: is the vision of the artist upon her own body. When she loves what she see and knows each part of her; what makes her quiver and long. When she makes her own body shake with love and sex is when she is ready to discover the world. Because the moment you understand yourself, you can understand others without any prejudice or pride. The moment you allow yourself is when you can finally deliver yourself to the fogs of pleasure, so well represented by Correggioâs Jupiter. Because here Jupiter is desire, is temptation, itâs the deliver. Itâs when you embrace the feeling of bliss. Thatâs actually why we put gods and goodness together, because when you look at Aphrodite, you want to be inside the piece, you want to be this woman that not only represents beauty but also love. Itâs when the pleasure you search itâs at its peak. Orgasm. High. Whatever word you might want to call itâÂ
Harry was looking at her with attentive eyes. A proud smile. A promise of an later. Everything about the way he looked at her made her feel anything but ashamed for the things she was saying. She had a speech prepared. But she remembers nothing of it because the moment she was on stage nothing else mattered beside her feelings towards the pieces, at the end everything is about feelings.Â
âAnd then, we finally have The woman with the black stockings; because sometimes you have the chance to find people whose intensity matches yours and you just want that person. You dream and you desire, because now, sex is not only sex but is also love. You fuck at 10 am but have slow sex in the evening. Whatever this person wants, is theirs. You are opening yourself. Not only literally but metaphorically, as well. And you can only hope this person doesnât get scared only because youâre so openâÂ
The whole moment she was talking, people were walking around the artworks. But now, they were all looking at her. Now was the time to close her explanation and kiss her man, the same man that was so attentively looking at her and helping her since the first day.Â
âIf love is a prose, sex is poetry. From all the artworks I just told you all about it, they all share the same theme but are shown in a different way. From the fog that encapsulates the young woman in Jupiter to the woman with her open legs showing to her lover that everything that is hers is also his. Giving him the privilege to see her in such a tender yet sensual way. Because love and sex are privileges. You can have one without the other, but together they are powerful. Is a privilege because you canât find that in others so easily. The ones that can see what pleasure is all about, that there is no shame in longing, in wanting, in quivering for someone but also recognize than when you do it all of this with love: Is irreplaceableâ
Looking around she saw people with tears in their eyes. Lavignia was so proud of herself.Â
âIs a privilege because not everybody can find that. A few people spend all of their lives without knowing the true pleasures of the flesh and others spend their lives wanting to be loved, waiting for someone to fit inside of them just like a puzzle. But, sometimes, all you need is you. The world is quite boring but some people know how to make it colorful, just like those artist that shows us the most inherent sentiment of the human race with the most primal desire of the human race.Â
This, is love and sex. Enjoy your night. Thank you.âÂ
Lavignia could hear the applause. Lovelace went to give her a kiss on the cheek, Nessa and Cathy were hugging her, welcoming her to the family. Journalist wanted to talk to to her. She could see cameras flashing and unknown faces congratulating her. But her focus was in looking for him, and she found him: at the top of the stairs, with a bottle on his hand, he gave her a nod, pointing toward the office door. Lovelace, that was standing right beside her told her to go.Â
.
The office had baby blue and white walls. That was the first thing she noticed. There was a bathroom and a big window showing the hot Italian summer night. In the middle of the room was a desk and sitting on that same desk, there was a man picking at his nails with a champagne bottle next to him. When he heard the door, he gave her a smile and stood up.Â
âI thought you were going to ditch meâÂ
âNo. Just had a lot of people wanting to talk. SorryâÂ
âNothing to be sorry forâ he took a step closer to her âcan I just start by saying how Iâm so fucking proud of you? You gave such a nice speech and you made the theme so much better than what we initially thought. Cheers to thatâ he gave her a small smile and the bottle. Taking from his hands and drinking a big gulp, the sweet taste of the champagne that had notes of cherry filled her tastes buds. She gave him the bottle back so he could drink and asked him:Â
âWhat was the message you took from everything?âÂ
âThat love and sex is to let yourself go. As you said, itâs a privilege⊠and what a nice privilegeâ they were standing in the middle of the room, the sound of the party downstairs was nothing compared to the silent conversation that was happening behind every word they exchanged.Â
Harry thought Lavignia looked beautiful with the lights from the night sky illuminating her beautiful face. It was only then and the moon. Their only witness was the moon. He wanted to get a paper and write everything he was thinking. Maybe he would named Her and the moon and would say something among the lines: even the moon takes chances in betting that our love begins tonight. Strong or weak. Happy or sad.Â
But they still had so much to talk. So Harry decided to begin: âwhy were you so harsh to judge? Not only me but everybody here, actuallyâÂ
âI think I was intimidated by you. You came telling about your weekend and I could only think âhe has done more in three days that I have done my entire life. And I donât know I think when you mix that with the unknown, I ended up misjudging you. More than once. Even when you were always so open to meâ she got the champagne, drinking some more âIâm so ashamed for how I treated everybody here. You and Nessa and even Lovelace that first night, drinking everything and passing out.â
âYou donât have to be ashamed, we are family here. And family forgives, right?â he pinched her nose âAnd yeah, I understand what you mean, we tend to fear the unknown. Were you really discussed by me? And the fact I like a little bit of everything?â
âI think I was jealous,actually. And I hated myself for the feeling you gave me since last Monday when I saw you walk through the door. But I donât think I was actually discussed, you know? Not at you, at least. Maybe at myself. It was hard to understand all the feelings I was having and also understand that feeling all of this is okayâÂ
âI thought you were beautiful, you know? I was captivated by you since the first day. And we were always on and off during the week. There were days I thought you were finally understanding us and days I was sad because you looked at us as if we were monsters... exept when you start talking about art. Thatâs beautiful. You lose yourself in it.âÂ
She was so closer to him now, playing with his rings. Harry noticed little lines on her forehead, like she was thinking about something.Â
âYou seem like you want to ask me somethingâ
âDo you still want to get to know me? Or have I missed my chance?â He laughed at that.Â
âOf course I wanna get to know you.â
In that moment, both of them let go a relieved breath. It was crazy to think about how much could change in one week. Lavignia always thought you could only feel like she was feeling was you know someone for years, but sometimes you have the privilege.Â
It was a brand new start, the Sunlight was a reborn for her. And now they were on the same page. They were both open. They both wanted a real chance.Â
âWill you be patient with me?â She asked himÂ
âAlways.â
âWhen are you going to kiss me?â
âWhen Iâm finally inside of youâ
âAnd when is that?â
âIn a few hours from now, when the party has died down a little bitâ
âI was thinking you were going to kiss me now.â
âWell... we can do other stuff, you know?â
âLike the painting at your house? Itâs quite sensualâÂ
âLook at you. How do you managed to be able to talk like this in just two daysâ
âYou canât see it because of the lack of light but Iâm blushing right now but... you are right. I had to discover myself. Actually one of your poems helped me, and all of those paintings, they created a good picture in my head.â
âAre you saying you got off to one of my poems?â
She nodded her head. Affirmative.Â
âWhich one?â
âThe one about the fruitsâ
âFuck... you are making real hard for me not to kiss you right nowâ
âWhy donât you?â
âIâm going to. Just not now. If Iâm going to kiss you Iâm going to do it right. Laying on my bed, with me inside of you. But it doesnât mean I canât do something to help you. I can see youâre squishing your thighs.â getting closer to her, he looked right inside her eyes, making her feel dizzy.Â
âTell me, darling. Ever heard about voyeurism?â Harry asked with his deep voice just above a whisper.
She was feeling dizzy. His perfume was increasing all of her nerves. The smell of vanilla marking her melt while the notes of tobacco was igniting a fire within herself she never felt beforeâ
He got closer again and grabbed her hips âIâm not going to ask again... ever hear of voyeurism?âÂ
She nodded her head. A negative.Â
âWell...itâs when you have satisfaction of watching people engage in sexual situationsâ he said in a low whisper close to her ear, she was shaking. Harry was walking her backwards till her back was against the desk âI would love to see you hump this pretty table till you get lost in the feeling of a delicious high. And then Iâll take your wet panties from you and put it on my front pocket, close to the part that is aching the most to get to know youâ he raised her to sit on the desk, opening her legs in a position her clit was resting on the cold and hard surface âthen we are going to mingle. People are going to come to you and talk about how good your speech was. Cathy and Nessa are going to want to take photographs. Poor them, little they know my little girl is without any underwear, wet and waiting for us to get homeâ he started to help her move her hips on the desk. The first few waves of pleasure passing through her body like little flicks of energy âand then Iâll take you home and fuck you properly for the first time in your life, would you like that, darling?â She nodded her head and he gave her a peck in one of her eyelids âgood. But, for all of that to happen I need you to do me a favor and comeâÂ
âWonât people hear me?âÂ
âAnd whatâs the matter of that. We are not working anymore. We are enjoying a very sensual party, just like everyone else. And I can promise what we are doing here... everybody down there had done at least two times worseâ she was hypnotized by him and his damn perfume âfuck it, right?âÂ
Fuck itÂ
Lavignia felt her hips moving more and more. Her toes were turning inside her boots. Harry was whispering dirty nothings close to her ear, leaving light kisses across all of her neck and chest. Holding her tights open, helping her move, sometimes moving his hips closer to her just so she could feel the promise of later.Â
Harry let go her trembling body so he could watch her. Taking two steps back he admired her, her body was moving like an erotic dance, one of the straps of her dress was falling of her shoulder, showing him a little bit of the left breast that was covered by the thin fabric of the bra. And then⊠that was when he saw it: the white stockings.Â
âArenât you a work of art.. I wish I could paint you right now, make Shiele quiver with jealousy that he didnât get to capture youâÂ
She could feel her orgasm approaching, the little flicks of pleasure growing stronger the harder she rolled her hips on the hardwood table.Â
âWhen we get home, Iâm going to spread you open, Iâm going to kiss and lick every single part of you. I might have to sell my soul just to not come to soon because my body itâs so hot for you. So so hot. Come on, little darling. Come for meâÂ
And she came.
 Like an avalanche starting from between her legs and making her whole body treble, forming incoherent words and losing its strength. But before she could fall off the desk, his body was back, holding her close and telling her to breath. Taking care of her.Â
When she came down completely of her high he took her panties off. She was wide eyes when he smelled and said to himself something among the lines of âdeliciousâ.Â
This was only the start of tonight.
.
The wind was hitting Lavignia in the face, getting closer to his neck. His Harley was running around the Italian streets. She no longer felt ashamed for the thoughts going round her head in comparison to their first ride together.Â
After their little encounter at the office they went downstairs holding hands. Getting funny looks and a thumbs up from Nessa and Cathy and a smile from Lovelace.Â
They danced with people, looked at all of the artwork together for the billionth time, Harry introduced her to a designer that was at the opening and a few other people. When they noticed it was close to 2 am and people were leaving.Â
They stayed to help to dismount the stage and be sure nothing happened to the pieces but Lovelace told them to go home.Â
So now it was 3 am and Lavignia was taking advantages of her position behind Harry to stuck her nose in his hair and take in his smell. Maybe she needed to see a doctor. She was addicted to his perfume.Â
When they finally reached his place, Harry gave her his key to open a little gate so he could park the motorcycle. She noticed that he had a very yellow BMW.Â
âNot that I donât like the Harley but how come you never drive this beauty?âÂ
âThe gallery is so close from my place that I donât see a reason why. But, Iâll take you for a ride anyday. How âbout that?â
She nodded her head while still looking at the car but the moment Harry touched her back, indicating to go in through the backdoor, she stopped everything to follow him.Â
They were back to the black and white kitchen. Harry took of his white blazer, now only with the white tank top and the trousers. She could finally see his tattoos now. The naked mermaid, the ship. Lavignia was so hypnotized by him that she didnât move from the door.Â
âSee something that you like, darling?â He asked putting the pink glasses on the table together with his blazer. Lavignia didnât answer anything, closing the door, she walked towards him. Taking off her shoes and putting her purse on the table as well.Â
âCan I get you anything?â He asked âsome wineâ she hugged his middle and nodded her head in a negative âor maybe water? Something to eat?â She noticed his smirk, he was living to tease her, but it was a week long teasing âlittle darling, if you donât say anything Iâm just going to keep asking. Put those pretty red lips up to good use and tell me what you wantâÂ
âYou made me a promise early tonightâŠâÂ
âHey, come on⊠to be shy on me nowâ he was so close, the heat of his body could be felt in her back, he was closer and closer till⊠oh, he was already hard?Â
âYou said you were going to kiss meâŠâÂ
âI was going to kiss whenâŠâÂ
âYouâŠâ she could do it, she could say it âwhen you are finally inside of meâÂ
âThatâs my girl, come upâ
He lead her towards the stairs. Lavignia wanted to see every artwork he had around the house but she was too focused on him (and his damn perfume). Soon enough they were in front of a dark wood door.Â
His room had light pink walls, tall floor to ceiling windows and in the middle of the room a huge bed with a canopy. He told her to feel comfortable and she went to sit on the bed with her feet barely touching the ground.Â
âDonât you look pristine sitting all straight and proper. You can get more comfortable darling, I swear the bed isnât going to bite youâÂ
He was kneeling in front of her, with both arms at each side of her body.Â
âWhy are you on your knees?âÂ
âBecause Iâm going to prayâ
âI didnât know people prayed before having sexâ she joked
âDarling you canât be seriousâ she laughed and he was stuck admiring her but then she stopped at looked at the painting he had on the wallÂ
âIs that the 1910 painting by Luigi Russollo?âÂ
âYeah, I like the way he uses his synesthesia to make the most sensual paintingsâ he kissed her cheekbones and started making his way down her neck, using his hands to fiddle with her dress. But he wasnât done yet, we wanted to make her blush a little more âso⊠can I begging my prayer?âÂ
When she nodded her head he attacked her left breast over the dress, she was lightly moaning and he was getting dizzy. She was the best type of drug, every little thing seemed to me a new feeling for her and he wanted to watch her while she discovered more and more of the pleasures of the flash.Â
âItâs too hotâ she said is a whisperÂ
âCan I take of your dress?â Giving him a small yes, she helped him take of her dress, now, only in her bras and white stocking. She looked like a goodness, deserving its place with next with the Aphrodite back in the gallery.Â
Harry used his hands to make her lay and opened her legs. He they started to kiss her legs, going up to the inside of her thigh, when she could feel his breath, he went to her other leg and made the same path.Â
When he felt like both of her legs were full of loving, he kissed just above her little point of pleasure, just to see how she would react. She whispered a little âstayâ and he couldnât wait anymore, he has to pray, he couldnât delay it anymore so he just gave a full lick from her opening to her mound. Playing with her labia but never touching her clit, he wanted her swollen for him. Anxious for his lips, longing for his cock.Â
Using the tip of his fingers, he was playing with her opening, but never actually penetrating her. When he thought she was getting loud enough, he started to suck at her clit the same moment his middle finger entered her. Using a come here motion, he found the button inside of her.Â
Lavignia felt like she was in heaven, she was being adored by this manâs mouth and hands. She wanted more, she needed more. Trying to move her hips towards his mouth to get an even better feeling.Â
Normally, Harry would hold the person down, but Lavignia looked like an angel and she had such a sweet taste. He just couldnât so he gave her everything he could and let her take anything she wanted from his mouth and fingers.Â
It didnât take long till she was a trembling mess. Her release was sweet like honey and the most enjoyable thing to watch.Â
While she was calming down from her high, Harry got up and took of his shirt, he was sweating too much. Then he help her up the bed and started to kiss her eyelids and comp his finger through her hair.Â
âHiâ she saidÂ
âHeyâ he gave her a peck on the tip of her nose âdo you want anything? Maybe water?âÂ
âNoâ she used her leg to press the tent that was appearing in his crotch area âI want what you promised meâ
âAre you sure? We can do it tomorrow, I donât mind if youâre tired. You came pretty hardâÂ
âPlease, I want to feel youâÂ
âOkayâÂ
He was hers. Anything she wanted, he would give to her. So, her wish was his command. He stood on his knees and opened his pants never taking his eyes off of her.Â
Lavignia was feeling her body burn so much. She was close to the point of hyperventilating, the moment she saw his member spread free.Â
âNo underwear?âÂ
âIt gets in the wayâÂ
When they were both fully naked (with the exception of her white stocking, âthis one staysâ he told her) and he was on top of her, he took one of her hands and asked if she has done that before.Â
âA few times, almost five years agoâÂ
âIâll go slow. Please, hold my hand and tell me if it hurts too badlyâÂ
When she nodded, Harry got hold of himself and started to massage her with it, her clit, her labia, trying to get himself wet with her moisture. Thatâs when he remembered âon that nightstand I have a lube, itâs water based and smells like orange. Would you mind if I used a bit on both of us? It might help to ease myself into youâÂ
âSureâ she said with har breath starting to pick up again. So Harry for the bottle and warned her it might be a bit cold.Â
Using the gel with both of his fingers, he got in easy, making the same come here movements and sliding his finger out with a âpopâ sound.Â
When he went to pass on his own dick, she stopped him and with a shy voice asked if she could do it for him. And he said yes.Â
So she used both of her hands to be able to get his entire shaft and massaged him, up and down, squeezing when she got to the base and using the top of her finger when it was the head, all following his instructions.Â
âStopâ he told her âif you continue Iâll come before we even start and I donât think I canât handle anymoreâÂ
So, they were back to the same position as before, he on top of her, both of her legs were intertwined with his, his left hand on her right hand and they mouths finally close to each other.
When he started to enter her, she felt a small burn. It wasnt bad, but she isnât didnât knew if it was good. He was slowly easing himself and after a while she decided that it was a good type of burn.Â
When Harry was all the way in he finally said: âIâm gonna kiss you now, okay?âÂ
It was a weird first kiss, but it was perfect. He was inside of her in more ways than he could explain. People say that when you have sex, even if itâs a one night stand, your essence connects with person, and they were connecting in a way that it was rare in any galaxy.Â
Then he started to move, painfully slow, they didnât have anywhere to go, that was no reason to rush.Â
âYou know, itâs not going to be good for my ego if I come too soonâ he told herÂ
âAfter a week of reading I was hope for you to blow my mind not to blow your shot too soonâÂ
âHeeeet, thatâs meanâÂ
He was loving it, he was having sex with the most amazing girl and they were still able to have that banter he loved so much. God, he was going to fall in love with her. He could feel it.Â
After that, they let their bodies to the talking. She was moaning and so was he. It was sweet. It was hot. It was everything love and sex is all about.Â
When they were done, Harry got them water from the kitchen and a banana. Then she wanted to do it again, so they did it, this time against the bedpost. When they were done, they talked for hours, finally getting to know each other. They feel asleep the sun was already high in the sky and there wasnât any worry or shame for her neither any pain for him. They were cured and were ready to begin another journey, this time with one another, another day, another sunlight.Â
Day 7: a balcony in Italy https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Paintings-Bedroom-Balcony-In-Italy/1131921/4490457/view
She woke up alone inside the bed, completely naked with the exception of the satin sheets. There was a single sunflower resting on top of the tiny desk next to the bed with a simple paper that read:Â
Good morning, bunnyÂ
Get out of the room and take a left. You will find a round wooden stairs that will lead you to the balcony. Iâm waiting you for breakfast.Â
Getting a purple robe that smelled just like Harry she went upstairs, finding a suspended garden with all types of flowers she could think. There was an old table that looked from 1930, on top of the same table there was fruits and pancakes. The sunlight was shining from the big balcony, letting the Italian summer fill their lungs and eyes.Â
She found Harry sitting on one of the chairs, wearing a green and white striped shirt with washed blue jeans. She could see he had shaven because there was no scruff but his mustache was still there. Just from looking at it she feels a chill running down from her back till it reaches her most private parts at the memory of the same mustache passing across all of her body in his always there teasing manner.Â
Harry didnât see Lav at first, but he did listened to her footsteps. Writing something in his journal, not touching his food. Waiting for her.Â
âYou know... how long are you planning on staring at me? Should I get naked to make it better for you?â He said with a smile on his face, finally looking at her with a shine inside his eyes. One that hasnât left since they made up yesterday.Â
âSorry I didnât...â
âBunny you can stare at me all you want. But I bet youâre hungry, so why donât you come here and eat with me?â
Lavignia started to walk towards Harry but he stopped her:Â
âNakedâ that made her pause all of her movements. âTake of your robe love, and come and sit on my lap. Letâs eat together, shall we? I wanna be close to youâ Messing with her tangled curls she looked around and at the balcony: what if someone sees me?Â
But it only took one look at Harry to know that there is no problem because even if someone sees them: fuck it, right? Isnât that what she learned from this crazy week?
So she took off her robe, trying to look Harry in the eyes, no matter how much she wanted to look at the ground. Walking towards him, she won a beautiful smile as a present for her courage.Â
Now, on his lap, with her back against his front, she relaxed. Maybe was his smell - the fant reminder of the perfume and sex - or the way he kissed the back of her neck and passed his hands through her hair.Â
âSo what do you want? We have coffee,orange juice. Bread and eggs. Pancakes and fruits.âÂ
âIsnât a bit late to be eating breakfast? Itâs almost 3 pmâÂ
âI mean... we did go to bed almost 8 am. And I see there is nothing bad with having breakfast for lunchâÂ
With that Harry served her first (she wanted strawberries and pancakes) and then choose a slide of watermelon to start his meal - god knows how much they needed to eat after the night rolling around the bed.Â
âHow did you have the time to make such a big breakfast?âÂ
âOh, I only made the pancakesâ he said using his free hand to caress her right thigh âwas planning on getting you breakfast in bed, and all of that. You know how smitten I am with you, bunnyâ he gave her a pitch on the cheek but continued talking: âBut Lovelace sent this big breakfast as a thank you for the success that was the opening night yesterday. So I thought: change of plans. Organized everything here and left the note for you. But it didnât take long because I donât think I waited more than 20 minutes till you showed up using the robe even if I was very clear that you should come nakedâ he said giving her a funny look, pretending to be disappointed.Â
âWell... I donât see you being nakedâÂ
âThat can be arranged in 30 seconds, if you wantâÂ
She laughed and they continued to eat, the only sounds they could listen was the birds and the faint radio from someone outside, playing a romantic yet cheesy Italian song none of them ever heard.Â
Harry was using his free hand to tease her. Pressing his leg upon her mound. She was getting wet, feeling the heat of June so much hotter than actually way, like she was inside a stove.Â
âSo, is here that you and your...â Lavignia was curious about his miscellany in bed, but she didnât want him to feel mad or think she was jealous, she was just curious âguests âyeah, she choose the right word âhere to refresh?âÂ
Harry laughed: âmy guests never actually even been here or my bedroomâÂ
âOh, so Iâm different from all of them?âÂ
Harry turned her around on his lap, with both of her legs each side of his waist. He took her head in both hands with a serious look:Â
âFrom the moment I saw you I was captivated. When I noticed how different you were I was so afraid you wouldnât give me a chance because I have had my fair share of broken heart: from being cheated on to people who just said I canât imagine the father of my children dressing the way you do all of that hurts, you know? I always give everything of me to the world but I never see the return of something that could be meaningful. And I think you mean something. I know you for only a week but there is a piece of me that wants to get to know you, fuck, even if you didnât wanted to try and open up for life I would still find a way to be in your life either way. There is something inside those honey colored eyes that made me get so lost inside of them that I started to talk so much nonsense the day we metâ he shook his head in a sign of denial â I know I am a bit out of the usual guy but the first thing you heard from me was about a three way I had just the weekend before, that is no way to met someone you would wanna take out on a date, rightâÂ
âNo. I was intimidated. I still am. There is so much I donât know about the world and I only found out when I walked through that gallery door.âÂ
âI think we balance each other and I canât wait to figure it out more of us. If you wantâÂ
âI would like thatâÂ
âSo, can I take you out on a date?âÂ
âIsnât this a date?âÂ
âNo, I wanna proper wine and dine you. Maybe take you to the movies. Fleetwood Mac is coming to Rome next month, we can have a little weekend getaway togetherâÂ
âOkay. You can take me on a dateâÂ
He kissed her with fire in his soul after this. He was so used to being used just for his body or people with the dream of being one of his muses. And now he finally had a chance to start something amazing with this shy girl who is thrust so much in him.Â
âGood. Now that is settled, I wanna try something.âÂ
He raised her up to her feet, opening his pants just enough to free his semi erect cock: âcome and sit on meâÂ
She looked at him with questioning in his eyes: âwhat about breakfast?âÂ
âWe are going to eat breakfast, come onâ and with that she carefully sat on him. Both of them growling.Â
He took her plate and gave her a bite of the pancake. Everything seemed surreal for her: he was growing bigger inside of her and she was getting wetter. Every time she tried to move to get a bit of friction he would stop her. So there was only one thing for her to do: accept the food in her mouth and watch when he took bites of his watermelon looking at her. There was just something so erotic about everything.Â
âYou knowâ Lavignia said when they were done and Harry rested their plate on the table âyou are stuffing me full both ways right nowâ with that joke they started to laugh togetherÂ
âOne week ago you wouldnât say thisâ Harry noted âIâm proud of you bunny. So proud that Iâm going to give you a reward.Â
She looked at him, questioning. But he just took his hand and tapped her lips saying:Â
âOpen upâ she opened her mouth âtongue outâÂ
And he did what she wasnât expecting but it wasnât a surprise at all: he sucked her to the inside of his mouth. Using his right hand to pull her hair while the other was getting down her body.Â
âTastes just like strawberries, so fitting for this summer eveningâ He said before going in for more.Â
They started to kiss and his fingers were playing lightly with her clit. Never giving the pleasure necessary but always there... remembering her of the feeling of him inside and outside of her.Â
The more they kissed faster he would move his hand in her intimate parts while the other was manhandling her, with a strong grip on her hair, she couldnât move. She was completely at his mercy.Â
When they both couldnât take it anymore, Harry got hold of her hips, lifting her up and slamming her down his body, sending sparks through both of their bodies.Â
In that moment, she was stuck with the feeling of him he was the only thing that mattered. If someone could see them from the balcony: so be it. Even being on top, he was the one making her move. She couldnât wait till the day sheâd have the courage to be the one in charge.Â
âIâm not gonna last longâ said Harry âsorryâÂ
âItâs okay...â she said moaning. She was close to coming but from the sounds and the beating of Harryâs heart against her own: he was closer. Following her instinct she started to roll her hips every time he slammed her down, biting his neck and moaning in his ear: just for him.Â
It didnât take long till Harryâs movements got a bit out rhythm so she said: âfill me up, come on. I need to feel you, to see youâÂ
Harry was a goner. Closing his eyes and opening his mouth. He looked like an angel, if angels could be naughty as him.Â
When he opened his eyes, there was this adoration inside the way he looked at her. It was so loving that Lavignia said a little ïżœïżœïżœohâ when he simply got up with her on his lap,used his hand to get whatever was on his way and her threw her on the desk, in the middle of the food, books, flowers.Â
He got down on his knees, looked at her through hooded eyes, mouth close to where she needed him the most and said: âsecond breakfastâ
And third.Â
And forth.Â
The end
Oh, God, this was almost one moth of work and Iâm so glad it all turned out just like I wanted, but first, i need to thank someone.
This fic exists thanks to the book âWoman, myth and godnessâ, itâs a book about the represetation of the woman inside arts, literature. It was how I found out about Sunlight, and fell in love with the concept.
And last but not least: I decided to use an OC because she had such a strong personality I needed to give her a name. If anyone is curious the faceclaim is a south american singer from the 70s called Gal Costa, so yaaay for poc charecter.
Anyway, I hope you guys like it!
#majorharry20k#harrry styles#harry styles fic#harry stykes fanfiction#harry styles blurb[harry styles blurbs#harry styles smut#harry smut#harry x reader#harry styles x reader#imagine 1d#harry styles blurb#harry styles blurbs
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Sexy Little Me
This is how Hollywood turns a pretty Texas girl into Sharon Tate, the star.
By John Bowers for "The Saturday Evening Post"
1. Two of Sharon Tate's three pictures have been produced in Europe. Although Texas-born, Sharon spent her adolescence abroad, and much prefers London to Hollywood.
2. Sharon will be shown off to American audiences for the first time in DONâT MAKE WAVES. On the set, she reacts prettily to a compliment from co-star Tony Curtis.
3. At 6 months Sharon won Dallasâ âMiss Tiny Totâ award.
4. Portraying a Las Vegas showgirl who becomes a superstar in VALLEY OF THE DOLLS, Sharon had to wear a 10-pound jeweled headdress which âgave her a headache.â
5. This picture of Sharon and her father, Maj. Paul Tate, at a 1965 Fort MacArthur party is from a large âfamily eventsâ scrapbook that Sharon dutifully keeps.
6. Relaxing on the set of YOUR TEETH IN MY NECK, Sharon listens attentively as the Polish-born Polanski explains how she can improve her performance in the next scene.
May 6, 1967 â Sharon Tate had finished her last scenes for The Vampire Killers (later to be called Your Teeth in My Neck), and had no film work for the moment. At 95 Eaton Mews West, London, she moved about in the late afternoon looking for something to do. She sat Buddah-style on the living room floor and put on fake eyelashes, one eyelash at a time. She worried that a sunlamp treatment, taken a few hours before, was going to make red cracks in her face. âDoesnât it seem to be getting all red on the cheeks? Look close now.â
She wore a gray sweat suit and furry boots, having been to her daily gym class that afternoon. She didnât like the gym class, but Roman Polanski, her director, had told her she must go. She frowned into a hand mirror, thinking she saw a red streak. She started to bite a fingernail, but stopped. Roman had forbidden any more fingernail biting; she had a tendency to bite them down to the nub. She went to the refrigerator, and amidst Wyborowa vodka and Carlsberg beer, brought out the makings for a salami sandwich. She would not drink a beer because it might bloat her, and Roman was taking her out for dinner.
There was no place in the apartment for her to settle back and relax now. Everything inside had a transient look, as if the tenants would only be there a short season. A complicated stereo set sat on crates; Bach on top of a stack of records, Cannonball Adderly on the bottom. There were no pictures, no pets, no cozy heat. Upstairs on the wall was a framed citation stating that Knife In The Water under the direction of Roman Polanski had been nominated for an Academy Award. As Sharon reached for a folder of still photographs from The Vampire Killers to show a male visitor, she stuck up her bottom in a way she has; as she went through the photos, she pooched out her bosom. But she did it by reflex. Her thoughts were totally on her director, who was not there. She had been in three unreleased films â 13, Donât Make Waves and The Vampire Killers, all with different directors.
If she caught the publicâs fancy in any of these pictures, she would become a movie star. And she was pleased with her work in The Vampire Killers. She was in a nude bathtub scene in it, and in a brief sequence in which she got spanked.
The phone rang; it was a strange female voice with a French accent. âIs Roman there?â
âNo, Iâm sorry he isnât,â Sharon said, in her accent of the moment, which was English. âWho shall I say is calling, please?â
âOh â I just wondered if he were in. Tell him Barbara. Thank you very much..â
The dull London afternoon turned dark, and still no Polanski. He could be cutting The Vampire Killers, or he could be tied up in London traffic or he could be sitting in a cafĂ©. She took off her furry boots and put her feet into his house slippers, which rested at odd angels by a mammoth bed that cost over $600. The slippers were far too big for her. She wondered if tonight she would be thrown with people who would overwhelm her with their wit, their awesome knowledge, their self-confidence. When she was out in public with Roman, she never felt adequate enough to open her mouth. She could only talk to him alone. Her problem was that she had always been beautiful, and people were forever losing themselves in fantasy over her â electing her a beauty queen, imagining her as a wife, dreaming of a caress. Most people had fantasies. But a few people, like Polanski, took charge.
At the age of six months Sharon Tate was elected Miss Tiny Tot of Dallas, Tex. Her mother had sent in photos of the beautiful baby to contest officials. Sharonâs father was (and is) in the Regular Army, and was then stationed in Dallas. (Both her parents are natives of Houston.) As Sharon grew up, the family moved around in Army style, her father frequently absent from home. She remembers that when her father would return from an overseas tour, and she had reached a nubile age, her motherâs first command would be, âNow you, Sharon Marie, button up that night gown when you come out of your bedroom. Daddyâs home.â Her father was very strict with her as she budded through adolescence, turning thumbs down on potential boyfriends and making her stay in nights. He was very strong and knew how to take charge.
But most people continued to do things for Sharon without her lifting a finger. At 16 she was elected Miss Richland, Washington, and a short time later named Miss Autorama. At the age of 17 she was in Verona, Italy, where her father was stationed, and the prizes mounted. At Vicenza American High she was a cheerleader and baton twirler, and was chosen Homecoming Queen and Queen of the Senior Prom. The Vicenza yearbook for 1961 shows her as a very pretty, large-eyed girl, with hair somewhat darker and hips a little broader than now. She daydreamed at this time about becoming a psychiatrist and a ballerina, and had little to do with her classmates. Yet if any far-out stunts or fads were proposed, this terribly quiet girl was ready to lead the way. âIf miniskirts had come in then, â she says, âIâd have worn the shortest one.â
Today the fad among young girls in cosmopolitan circles is to use the old Anglo-Saxon words in everyday conversation, and Sharon Tate leads the way. But back in Italy at 17, she was just starting her worldly knowledge. She watched the on-location shooting of Barabbas, a film about ancient Rome, and the family scrapbook now includes still pictures of Jack Palance and Anthony Quinn in the movie costumers they wore in Italy. As she walked in Venice one day, she was spotted by the choreographer for the Pat Boone Show, which was being filmed in Italy. She next appeared very briefly in one of Booneâs TV shows, and his glossy smiling face now rests in the album with a fond inscription for Sharon.
When the Tate family moved from Italy to Southern California, Sharon decided it was time to live on her own. She was 18, and she paid a visit to Harold Gefsky, then agent for Richard Beymer, a young actor she met in Rome. âShe was so young and beautiful,â Gefsky, a softly-spoken man, said in his Sunset Boulevard office, âthat I didnât know what to do with her. I think the first thing I did was take her to a puppet show.â
He also got her work because her father, in Calvinistic style, had only given her a few dollars to sink or swim. One of her first jobs was dressing up in an Irish costume and handing out Kelly-Kalani wine in Los Angeles restaurants at $25 a day. She also appeared in TV commercials for Chevy cars and Santa Fe cigars. People who knew her during this period agree on one thing. She was the most beautiful girl in the world. âEverywhere I took her she caused a sensation,â Gefsky said. âI would take her into a restaurant and the owner would pay for her meal. Photographers kept stopping her on the street. Iâve lived in Hollywood since the mid-Forties, but Iâve never seen anything like it before or since.â
But at this point no one, except perhaps Sharon, knew if she wanted to be an actress. Then one day Gefsky took her by to meet his friend Herbert Browar, who was connected with TVâs Petticoat Junction. He thought possibly Browar could fix her up with a minor role, something to tide her over. Browar took one look at her and rushed her in to see Martin Ransohoff, head of Filmways, Inc.
Ransohoff has a strand of hair combed over his bald dome. He wears loose sweaters, torn windbreakers and breeches that are baggy in the seat. He first started producing TV commercials in New York when food particles were glued onto Brand Xâs plate to show the differences in detergents. He branched out into TV programs with such commercial winners as Mr. Ed, The Beverly Hillbillies and Petticoat Junction. He then tackled movies on the order of The Americanization of Emily and The Loved One, which got mixed reviews but generally made money. He founded the company in 1952 on $200, and today it operates on a budget of over $35 million. He will talk about Oswald Spengler or H. L. Mencken and then croon into his ever-present phone, âHelloooo, Bertie, baby. Whereâs the action, kid?â He chews gum till his head rings, smokes two packs a day and sends everyone to the wall with his adrenaline. He can be gratuitously cruel in speaking of others â âSheâs got a lunch pail for a mouth,â he said of an aging actress, âand if we take out insurance on her, itâll have to be that sheâll die.â Then he can take his twin sons to a football game, clean up a dogâs mess in his Bel Air living room, and talk to anyone in the world who has guts enough to call him. A rich manâs son, he sold pots and pans from door to door while going to Colgate and claims the experience taught him what the public will or will not buy. He had little interest in films before he became involved in them, and his favorite actress in the old days was Deanna Durbin â who, coincidentally, was also Polanskiâs favorite. Both vividly remember her pedaling a bicycle down a shady street and singing through a dimpled smile. Not everyone has had pleasant dealings with Ransohoff in Hollywood, but all agree he is a super salesman.
When he first saw Sharon Tate, he squinted his right eye and did something that was very impulsive, even for him. âDraw up a contract,â he shouted. âGet her mother. Get my lawyer. This is the girl I want!â
He had not seen a screen test, not even a still photograph. She had hardly opened her mouth. But Marty Ransohoff, like the rest of us, has his fantasies â and Sharon Tate walked into one of his fondest ones. âI have this dream,â Ransohoff said, âwhere Iâll discover a beautiful girl whoâs a nobody and turn her into a star that everybody wants. Iâll do it like L. B. Mayer used to, only better. But once sheâs successful, then Iâll loose interest. Thatâs how my dream goes. I donât give two cents now for Tuesday Weld or Ann-Margret..â
âI think heâs just trying to pull one over on the public,â Gefsky said.
Sharon signed a seven-year contract, and Ransohoff took charge. Gefsky, a nice man, bowed out. At first she lived in complete fear of Ransohoff, and did as she was told. âShe wouldnât even eat a hamburger if he told her not to,â a friend from that period said. If Ransohoff said she was to appear on The Beverly Hillbillies disguised in a black wig, she appeared. If he told her to go on a moments notice to Big Sur, New York, London, she went. Off and on she studied acting.
Jeff Corey, one acting coach, said, âAn incredibly beautiful girl, but a fragmented personality. I tried to get reactions out of her, though. Once I even gave her a stick, and said, âHit me, do something, show emotionâ ..If you canât tap who you are, you can never act.â
Charles Conrad, another acting teacher, said, âSuch a beautiful girl, you would have thought she would have all the confidence in the world. But she had none.â Among her friends, however, she began to refer to herself as âsexy little me.â
Ransohoff tried to place Sharon in The Cincinnati Kid â his own movie â but failed when the director demanded Tuesday Weld. He packed her off to New York to study under the personal direction of Lee Strasberg at the Actors Studio. âShe was only with me a few weeks,â Strasberg said, âbut I remember her. She was a beautiful girl.â In New York Sharon had a romance with a young French star, who offered her relief from her Texas style, Puritan upbringing. The actor was tall, dark and very nice. When they broke up, the actor bungled a suicide attempt.
Sharon continued to fear Ransohoff. Once, while driving at a high speed near Big Sur, she turned her car over four and a half times, but somehow managed to crawl out with only minor injuries. Her first thought was that Marty would be mad. The first picture he finally placed her in was his French made 13, in which she plays a chillingly beautiful, expressionless girl who goes about putting the hex on people. Completed many months ago, â13â still rests in the can waiting for a 1967 release date. Ransohoff flew Sharon back to Hollywood for her second film, Donât Make Waves, in which she plays a beautiful, deadpan skydiver. Sharonâs first two directors were older men. Britishers â very polite, very nice and understanding with a novice actress.
And then Ransohoff began dickering with Roman Polanski, the Polish director living in London, to make a picture. Polanski, a tiny, baby-faced man whose explosive manner and Beatle-like appearance belie his much-admired skill as a maker of art films, wanted to do something with Ransohoff called The Vampire Killers, a spoof of horror movies. He wanted to play in it himself, and, as in all his movies, he wanted a beautiful girl in a supporting role.
âHow about Sharon Tate?â Ransohoff said. âI was thinking more in terms of Jill St. John,â Polanski said.
At Ransohoffâs instigation, Sharon and Polanski had dinner together. He looked at her from time to time, but said nothing. On a second dinner date he was painfully silent once more. Real weirdo, she thought. Whatâs he waiting on? She found out shortly. Walking in Londonâs Eaton Square, he suddenly put a bear hug on her and they fell to the ground, Polanski on the bottom. Sharon clouted him and stormed off. âThatâs the craziest nut I ever saw,â she said. âIâll never work for him.â
But Polanski apologized, and they saw each other again. One night he took her to his apartment which had even less furniture than it has now and no electricity. He lit a candle and excused himself, flying upstairs to don a Frankenstein mask. He crept up behind her, raised his arms, and whinnied like a madman. Sharon turned and emitted a terrible scream. It took over an hour for her hysterical weeping to subside. Not long afterward Polanski informed Ransohoff that Sharon would do fine for The Vampire Killers. On the set he treated her as if they never saw each other at night. He cajoled, flattered, got angry â which ever worked â and never had lunch with her. During the nude bathtub scene, he snapped still pictures of her. Still enthusiastic, he had her pose all over the set in the altogether, and then sent the results to Playboy. She plays a gorgeous redhead in The Vampire Killers â and she shows
Roman Polanski walked into his apartment in a sharp blue blazer and high-gloss shoes, carrying a briefcase. He had a good-sized nose and searching, deep-set eyes, and he nodded briskly to Sharon. âA Barbara called,â she let out daintily. âDo you know who that could be?â
âA Barbara?â he called from the kitchen, out of sight. A pause. âYou didnât get any last name? Always get last names. I donât know any Barbara that would be calling. Sharon, Sharon. Thereâs no liquor here. Always see to it that we have enough whisky. Canât you do that?â
Sharon went on the phone to order some, worrying about which brands to specify. She didnât want to be embarrassed by asking Roman â although he would certainly tell her. He knew the correct whiskey brands in London, the good pastrami places in Manhattan, and the right topless spots in Hollywood. He learned a countryâs customs and its language in a couple of weeks. He took a bath now upstairs, calling down for Sharon to fetch him some tea. Later he descended the stairs in a cowboy outfit and boots, ready for dinner. Some movie friends had shown up, and he led the party on foot toward Alvaroâs restaurant.
At the restaurant Sharon basked in the eyes that roved over her. She listened big-eyed to Polanski explain the difference between the sunâs heat and that on earth, apropos of Truffautâs Fahrenheit 451. The only trouble was that it was difficult to digest pasta in such a giddy atmosphere, and she complained of her stomach. After Polanski figured out how to work the waiterâs ballpoint pen, he signed the check.
In a dreamlike state, Sharon began slipping into her fox fur coat in the foyer. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a tall Englishman with a prep-school tie and large teeth popped up and put his arm around her. âUmmm, you have a sexy feel, love. Donât we all love to touch you now..â She squirmed away.
Out on the street, she said, âRoman, a complete stranger began hugging me in there.â
âYeah? Really?â A short distance away he suddenly spied a blond in fox fur who had the same duck walk that Sharon has. âHey, there goes Sharon,â he said. âLetâs get her and put the two of them together!â
âDonât you dare,â she said, her anger flashing. Another day, away from Sharon, Polanski said, âIâm trying to get her to be a little meaner, Sheâs too nice, and she doesnât believe in her beauty. Once when I was very poor in Poland I had got some beautiful shoes, and I immediately became very ashamed of them. All my friends had plain, ordinary shoes, and I was embarrassed to walk in front of them. Thatâs how Sharon feels about her beauty. Sheâs embarrassed by it.â
Sharon has a quarter-inch scar under her left eye and one beside the eye, the result of accidents which she keeps having. As Polanski drove with her one night in London, meticulously keeping on the left in the custom of the land, an Englishman with a couple of pints under his belt hit him from the right. The only one hurt was Sharon, whose head bounced off the dashboard, spraying blood on slacks, boots and fur. An angry red wound appeared at the start of her scalp, and it will leave another whitish scar on her head. With blond hair combed down over her forehead to hide it, she skied at St. Moritz. And then she caught a jet for Hollywood because Ransohoff had called. She must redo a few scenes for Donât Make Waves. She grumbled a little. She found she could grumble to Ransohoff now. She hated Hollywood, and she didnât want to leave Polanski. Also, she hated to fly. She had to be drugged to endure it.
And then she appeared beside Ransohoff at La Scala restaurant in Beverly Hills. She had a black costume that looked more like a slip than a dress, and her blond head caught glints of movie-star light as she turned this way and that. âOh, thereâs David! David Hemmings. David, David!â
David Hemmings, who had been featured with her in 13 and had gone on to star in Antonioniâs Blow-Up waved. Other celebrities flicked glances her way, at each other, to the door to see what majesty might enter next. Occasionally they looked down at food or drink. The place was as crowded as Alvaroâs in London, the customers practically the same. Ransohoff wore an open-neck sport shirt and shapeless coat, and he talked business. âListen, sweetie, Iâm going to have to cut some stuff out of The Vampire Killers. Your spanking scene has got to go.â
âOh, donât do that. Why would you do that?â âBecause it doesnât move the story. The story has got to move. Bang, bang, bang. No American audience is going to sit still while Polanski indulges himself.â
âBut Europeans make movies differently than Americans, â she explained to the producer she once feared. âBlow-Up moved slowly. But wasnât it a great film!â
âIâll tell you something, baby. I didnât like it. If Iâd have seen it before the reviews, Iâd have said itâd never make it. Itâs not my kind of picture. I want to be told a story without all that hocus-pocus symbolism going on.â
âBut that one scene, Marty. When the girl showâs her, ah ââ (only Sharon said the Anglo-Saxon word). In Hollywood, New York and London they all talked now about Blow-Up, dwelling on that scene.
âYeah, I got to hand it to the guy for that one.â Ransohoff said, chuckling. âHe pulled a good one off there.â
âOh, I want to do a complete nude scene,â she said. âSay youâll let me!â
âOK, OK,â Ransohoff said, bored, looking toward the door. âYes, yes.â
âDo it now. Donât just say it.â Then Sharon got bored.
Early in the morning Sharon appeared before the camera at Malibu Beach, redoing a scene for Donât Make Waves. The sun had a hard time getting through the wisps of fog, and strong klieg lights helped out. In a sequence with an undraped David Draper, âMr. Universeâ, Sharon stuck out her backside and shot out her front. Magically, a button or two came undone on her polka-dot blouse, and after close examination of camera angle, director Sandy Mackendrick decided to leave it that way. He gave Sharon guidance in rubbing mineral oil over Draperâs bare back, as the scene called for. âTreat him like a horse,â he said. âPat him just as you would an animal. Thatâs the way..â
She lovingly went over Draperâs muscled back, and then went âughâ when the camera ceased to roll. The scene was done over and over. In her tiny trailer dressing room, she took a break and smoked daintily. âIâm happier when Iâm working,â she said. âI donât have time to think to much that way.â
One thing to think about was a visit to her parentâs home in Palos Verdes Estates, an hourâs drive away. (Her father was stationed in Korea, her mother and two younger sisters were at home.) Driving to the house one night in a heavy seaside fog, she became quieter and quieter, her words less Anglo-Saxon. A passenger beside her remarked, as the car neared its destination, that the fog reminded him of snow. âYou know what it looks like to me?â she said. âVomit.â
Her mother â a pleasant, plump, dark-haired woman â turned Sharonâs face this way and that. âHave you had your blood count recently, honey? You look so pale to me.â What did she think of Sharonâs becoming a movie star? What did she think of Roman Polanski? âYou know,â she said, in the voice of every middle-class American mother, âI donât care â just as long as sheâs happy.â
Back in Hollywood Sharon moved from hotel to hotel, from one friendâs home to another. She talked to Polanski by phone. (It embarrassed him to try to write letters in English because of his mistakes.) So many things were unresolved, shadowy. Ransohoff was sore at Polanski because Polanski had gone way over the budget on The Vampire Killers (âVery un-Hollywood of him,â a Filmways executive said; another only referred to him as âthe littleâ.â); Polanski was mad at Ransohoff because Ransohoff was cutting away at his film and postponing its release in the States. (Ransohoff had also had difficulties with Tony Richardson, the English director, over the budget and the cutting of The Loved One.) âThe thing is,â said Sharon, âthat Roman is an artist.â
At night Sharon went to The Daisy, a private discotheque in Beverly Hills. She wore an aviatorâs leather jacket, slacks, and tinted Ben Franklin glasses. Seated near the dance floor, she silently watched young actresses her age go through their gyrations. Suzanne Pleshette and Patty Duke did subdued turns; Linda Ann Evans, in a miniskirt, did a much more spirited fling. Carolyn Jones, who only yesterday had played the ingĂ©nue, now looked like a chaperone. Sharon gave Linda Ann Evans the once over and said, âIâve worn a much shorter mini in London. Thatâs nothing.â
From another table a slim, bronzed young man with a pampered black hair ambled confidently past Tina Sinatra, Patty Duke, Suzanne Pleshette â and hovered over this strange blond beauty in an aviatorâs leather jacket. He had the air of a football star in a small town high school, who was used to having his pick. He showed his beautiful white teeth and said, âLetâs dance.â
âNo,â she said, âletâs not.â
He kept the smile on his face as he backed away. He was now another who had tried to bring Sharon Tate into a private fantasy â but he didnât know that she had passed his type long ago.
She was going to fly to London and get engaged to Roman Polanski. Then she was going to fly back to star in Valley of the Dolls. Ransohoff was lending her to 20th Century-Fox to play a sexy bombshell who goes to Europe to star in nudie movies and who bewitches the world with her improbable lushness.
#sharontate#sharon tate#sixties#1960s#vintage#hollywood#old hollywood#1967#sexy little me#john bowers#saturday evening post#article#cinema#fearless vampire killers#valley of the dolls#don't make waves#roman polanski#paul tate#fort macarthur
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search for spock post 2 bc i sincerely would not shut up this time
 - this entire breakout scene oh my god im going to lose it
- LIKE ITS SO DELICIOUS. KIRK GOING IN THERE. PUNCHING THE GUARD. COMING OUT, PERFECTLY TIMED, TO SULU KNOCKING THAT DUDE AND JUST BODYING HIM. DONT CALL ME TINY, HE SAYS. IN THAT FUCKING LEATHER JACKET THING.
- i actually , again, must say: kirk notwithstanding, i do really love the outfits. omg.
- NO SHUTUP THIS ENTIRE SEQUENCE. SCOTTY BEING A LITTLE BITCH. AND NO LESS. NO LESS AT NO LESS- MISS UHURA!
might i say her hair is so gorgeous in this she is in general my god
fuck it up fuck it up fuck it up fuck it up fuck it up fuck it up fuck it up fuck it up
- HOLY SHIT THE DREAM TEAM ARE REALLY DOING THIS. THEYRE REALLY KIDNAPPING OUR GIRL, THE ENTERPRISE. LEGENDS. ABSOLUTE FUCKING LEGENDS.
 - SINCERELY THOUGH IT IS SO FUNNY THEY HAVE TO GET THE ENTERPRISE I GET IT SHEâS PROBABLY THE ONLY GAL THAT CAN GET OUT THERE AND DO WHAT THEY NEED BUT LITERALLY ALSO THE DRAMA OF IT ALL
- no but hang on the entire energy of this im so happy and smiling so big at all of them coming together and theyre such a mess theyre like lowkey ruining all their careers but theyre a little family and theyre going to save SPOCK , theyre going to help MCCOY and i only just watched tmp , like, a few hours ago so im thinkin abt him arriving and not saying anything and everyon bein like okie dokie... BUT NO. THEY ALL LOVE. CARE HIM. CARE EACH OTHER.
- BABY SPOCK?
-Â But I was so caught up in the euphoria of found family (in space) antics, that I forgot about the Klingons
- i also keep forgetting that david is straight up kirkâs son. what the honest to god fuck.
- thereâs a lot happening int hsi whole thing but it doesnt feel unbalanced at all frankly like i said im having a whale of a time its just taking me so long to watch bc i keep pausing to go apeshit and speaking of
- i jinxed it you will not be dealing with pon farr in this movie. i will not allow it. hard no.
- FRIENDSHIP ENDED WITH SEARCH FOR SPOCK. I HATE IT HERE NOW.
- ABSOLUTELY NOT THE TIME AND THE PLACE, BUT: since you now are making it pretty obvious that vulcan hand business is like that and you had kirk and spock with their hands pressed through the glass at each other. uh well you know what you did, star trek. we both know what you did.
- also may i ask. what is the point of a red alert thing if thereâs, like, 4 of you here.
 - why, when james t. kirk was put onscreen on the klingon ship, did he whip his ass round like that. sir whoâs it for! the klingons arent going to fuck you!
- congrats kirk. you had a son for, like, less than a week.
BASTARD?
- HI DID HE TELL ANYONE. I CANT TELL. EVERYONES JUST UFKCING STARING AT HIM HAVING A LITTLE MELTDOWN.
- OH DEAR GOD THEYRE DOING THE DESTRUCT SEQUENCE THING NO STOP IT THE STRESS I HATE IT
- ARE THEY ACTUALLY GOING TO BLOW IT UP WHY AM I SO SO SAD ABOUT THAT LIKE NOO @ ME ITâS A FAKE SHIP ITS FINE EVEN IF IT WAS RTEAL WHO CARES BUT NOOOOOOOOOOO I LOVE HER I LOVE THE ENTERPRISE YOU CANT KILL MY GIRL NOOOO
BUT I LVOEHER I BUT IM ATTACHED TO THE FAKE LITTLE VEHICLE ITâS HOME . SICK OF IT.
- god. scotty, bones, kirk and sulu all standing at the top of the hill and staring into the sunset as the enterprise burns up... its so fucking sad and beautiful shut up man im going to cry dont LOOK AT ME IM FUCKING EMBARASED IM SICK OF IT I RECOGNSIE BUT IM
- DID KIRK JUST KNEE THE KLINGON IN HIS KLINGDONG
GOING TO SCREAM
- GIVING THIS DUDE THE BOOT TO THE HEAD AND YELLING âI. HAVE. HAD. ENOUGH. OF YOU.â AND THEN KICKING HIM OFF A CLIFF AND INTO BURNING LAVA MISTER KIRK I AM A LITTLE OBSESSED
 - IMAGINE IF THE WORLD WAS BURNING AND COLLAPSING AROUND YOU AND YOU WERE HANGING ONTO THE EMPTY BODY OF YOUR DEAR, DEAREST FRIEND WHO YOU THOUGHT YOU HAD LOST FOREVER
- sincerely though thereâs something about it all. the way they burnt down their careers; the way the enterprise burnt; the way genesis burnt... everything is burning... the fire cleansing... what does it all mean... i dont know girls but im a little weepy and its silly again
- â i dont deserve to live.â âfine. iâll you later. :/â ME TO ME
- câcmon boys.... câmon
- âwho is the keeper of the katra?â (voice breaking) âI A-AM.â BONES.
âat what cost? your ship? your son?â âthe cost owuld have been my soulâ AGAIN. KIRK. MISTER! LIKE- jesus fucking christ my, man.
dont even BEGIN DON TOUCH TME
LOOK AT THS SHIT AND THEN HIM TURNING LOVINGLY TO KIRK, TO JIM....THE WAY HIS EYEBROWS SHOOT UP AND KIRK JSUT SMILES AT HIMA ND THEYR E ALL HAPPY AND THEYRE ALL TOGETHER AND THATS ALL THAT MATTERES NOT THE ENTERPRISE NOT ANYHTING ITS JUST THW98AUF0DPSGJSDGOPSDGJSDGGS THE NEEDS OF THE ONE. OH MY FUCKING GOD.
 SHUT UP GIRLS IM FINISHED EMOTIONALLY SPEAKING
#egg.txt#in the other liveblogs it took me until like#last 10-20 minutes before i had to split the post#this time im not even half way through#STAR TREK LIVEBLOG#CAN REPORT THIS SENT ME UP THE WALL
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After Louis Tomlinsonâs recent show in Madrid, some fans got the chance to meet him. One girl wanted to talk to him about his song Two of Us , which he had written after the death of his mother. The girl had lost her dad, and wanted the singer to know how much his lyrics had meant to her. Heâd never had that in his band One Direction, he says. âWe wrote cool songs, but they were love songs. It only goes so far, and to have someone say that I could help them with myâŠâ He pauses. âIt blows my mind, that shit. I was proper proud.â
It has been a hard few years. Tomlinsonâs mother died in 2016, just as he was about to launch his first solo single. In March this year, his 18-year-old sister was found unconscious at her flat in London and couldnât be revived. We will come to that, but, professionally, Tomlinson was struggling too. One Direction â that supernova of a boy band â broke up in 2015. Or announced they were taking a break. Or ââhiatusâ or whatever word we useâ, he says with a smile.
At the time, Tomlinson, now 27, was finding his place as a songwriter. âI wasnât singing a lot, I wasnât the frontman. Without being a sorry little bastard, I thought: âHow do I do better, how do I make something of myself, an identity?ââ In the last 18 months of One Direction, he says, âI felt like I knew who I was in the band, and I felt a real worth for who I was.â The break up, he says, ârocked me. I wasnât ready for it. I felt like I was getting to be a better songwriter, singer, a more confident performer, and all of a sudden, when I felt I was finally getting some momentum âŠâ
We meet at a bar in north London. Tomlinson greets me with a hug as if I am one of his fans (I am not, particularly, although I am by the end). He seems open but not vulnerable, and more self-aware and modest than you would expect from a man who was once part of the biggest boy band in the world. He is friendly and relaxed, dressed in a black tracksuit, with a beer in front of him.
Tomlinsonâs personal tragedies also meant his solo career has had a bit of a stop-start quality, but now it looks as if there is focus and momentum. He released his single Kill My Mind earlier this month; an album will follow next year. Kill My Mind is an indie-pop delight, not so huge a departure as to alienate his fanbase, but it sounds like the music he grew up listening to â Oasis and Arctic Monkeys â and his South Yorkshire accent brings more than a hint of Liam Gallagher-style northern vocals. He sounds confident on them, more so than on the previous singles he put out, a couple of fairly forgettable collaborations. âI think, in hindsight, that was me trying to find my place in the industry and making music I thought I had to make to get on radio.
âI had this epiphany when I was thinking about the music I grew up with,â he continues. âI kind of had a bit of a word with myself and worked out what I want â to be happy and proud of what Iâm doing. I love those early singles, but I never really felt proud of them, because it didnât feel too true to me.â
As a child, growing up in Doncaster with his mum Johannah, who raised him alone until she married Tomlinsonâs stepfather, he loved performing. âI liked to be the class clown, I liked to make people laugh, to show off, all that.â When his younger twin sisters were cast on TV dramas, he would sometimes go along as their chaperone, earning ÂŁ30. âWhere Iâm from, we donât have anyone whoâs been on TV or anything like that, so it was super-exciting,â he says. He ended up picking up work as an extra. âThe pinnacle of my acting career was one line on an ITV drama. I donât even know if they used my scene,â he says with a laugh.
When he was 15, he joined a drama group in Barnsley, which his mum would take him to when she could afford it. âI think I was confused, thinking I wanted to act when actually what I wanted to do was perform.â
At school he joined a band, where they sang Oasis and Green Day covers, and when The X Factor came up, he made it on to the show in 2010 on his third attempt. He queued from 3am to make sure the producers wouldnât have audition fatigue before they saw him, and he got his goal â to get in front of Simon Cowell âand just have a professional opinion on how I am as a singer. I was so flustered. Going from school performances to performing in front of professionals, TV cameras, a 3,000-strong audience. I wasnât present. I sang terribly. I remember coming away from it thinking: âI wonder if Iâve got through as one of those lads who looks all right but isnât really a good singer.ââ
Yet he ended up in One Direction, the band the show put together in its 2010 series. For six years they sold tens of millions of records, broke America and each made a rumoured ÂŁ40m-plus fortune. Their fans, Directioners, are another level of devoted. I donât know how he coped with the attention, or the pressure.
There were really only a few times when it got too much, says Tomlinson. They were in Australia and a local news station had got a helicopter and a photographer was trying to get pictures of Tomlinson in his top-floor hotel room. âI think I was naked, or just in my boxers, and even in my hotel room there was no escape. I could feel the pressure.â He tweeted about it â âyour standard bratty celebrity tweetâ â and was attacked. âAt times it did stress me out but never was I allowed to whinge, allowed to be a human and say: âToday has got too much for me.â I found that difficult at first.â
But he is keen not to sound as if he is complaining. âThere was much more positive that outweighed that.â And he never blames the fans for their intensity. Theirs is a special relationship, he says. âSo many people have bullshitted about what they feel about the fans, but theyâre like family to me.â
Even when Directioners have got a bit too ardent â there is a conspiracy theory, for example, that he and his bandmate Harry Styles have long been in a secret sexual relationship â he seems more bemused by it than annoyed. Although he is wary, he says, of adding âfuel to the fireâ by talking about it. âI know, culturally, itâs interesting, but Iâm just a bit tired of it,â he says. The HBO drama Euphoria recently showed an animated sequence of Tomlinson and Styles together, as imagined by a smutty fan-fiction writer. Was it annoying that a show had taken something fairly niche and given it new mainstream life? âAgain, I get the cultural intention behind that. But I think âŠâ He trails off, trying to work out what he wants to say. âIt just felt a little bit ⊠No, Iâm not going to lie, I was pissed off. It annoyed me that a big company would get behind it.â
Why does he think he never went off the rails during the bandâs heady period? âMy mates and my family, really. Itâs from my upbringing and where I come from. If I went back to Doncaster and I was dripping in Gucci or whatever, Iâd probably get whacked. Iâm always very conscious of not acting too big for my boots. Itâs the people around me who keep me sane and normal, because they give me insight into real life. Some celebrities, in pop in particular, only surround themselves with amazingness, and all they see is good, good, good, which is lovely, but you donât understand the real world then. I have the luxury of my mates around me, just reminding me how fucking good Iâve got it, really.â
The day of One Directionâs final concert in November 2015, Tomlinson and his bandmate Niall Horan sat together âand had a little cry, because it was such a journey we had been on. That day in general was so poignant. As much as you try and prepare yourself, itâs a whole other thing when it comes.â Because they had worked so much with few days off, he assumed that a break would be exciting. âBut it wasnât like that. When youâre used to working however many days, itâs all that more evident when youâre not doing something. Especially in the first six months. My life became âand I donât mean this to sound derogatory â very normal, from being a life of pure craziness.â
At the same time that Tomlinson was trying to work out what to do with himself, his mother, to whom he was intensely close, had been diagnosed with leukaemia; she died in December 2016. He performed his first single on The X Factor just a few days after her death, then seemed to half-heartedly continue with his solo career, releasing another single in 2017. It would be another two years â during which he became a judge on The X Factor â before he released Two of Us, a raw and beautiful (and under-rated) song.
âAfter I lost my mum, every song I wrote felt, not pathetic, but that it lacked true meaning to me,â he says. âI felt that, as a songwriter, I wasnât going to move on until Iâd written a song like that.â He knew he needed to get it out of him, but there was a lot of pressure â he felt he should be an experienced songwriter before he attempted it. Two songwriters he worked with played him the chorus. âIt was like the song I always wished Iâd written. I went in and put my personal touch to the verses. It was a real moment for me in my grief, and as part of the creative process, because it felt like it was hanging over me.â
Earlier this month, an inquest found that his sister FĂ©licitĂ© had died of an accidental overdose; she had been taking drugs, including anxiety medication, since the death of their mother. He has been through some terrible times, I say, which must put a perspective on a pop career. âExactly,â he says, a little quieter than before. âThat whole dark side Iâve gone through, it sounds stupid to say, but it gives me strength everywhere else in my life, because thatâs the darkest shit that Iâm going to have to deal with. So it makes everything else, not feel easier and not less important, but, in the grand scheme of things, you see things for what they are, I suppose.â
His fans have been crucial, he says. âIâm sure every artist says this, but I do believe it. Weâve been through some dark times together and those things Iâve been through, they carry a weight, emotionally, on the fans as well. And I felt their love and support. I remember really clearly when I lost my mum, that support was mad.â
What have the experiences of loss he has been through taught him about himself? He thinks for a second. âI keep going back to it, but I donât know if itâs a combination of where I grew up and my mumâs influence, but I just have this luxury of being able to see the glass half-full no matter what.â He is the oldest of his motherâs seven children, which is grounding and means, he says, âthereâs no time for me to be sat feeling sorry for myself. Iâve been to rock bottom and I feel like, whatever my careerâs going to throw in front of me, itâs going to be nothing as big or as emotionally heavy as that. So, weirdly, Iâve turned something thatâs really dark into something that empowers me, makes me stronger.â
He gets up to go to the toilet, which I think is his polite way of asking me to move on, although when he gets back he says, by way of a final word on the matter, âI donât want people to feel sorry for me. Thatâs not how I feel for myself. Somehow it fuels me.â
One Direction will get back together one day, he believes. He still speaks to the others. âWeâre not texting each other every day, but what we do have, which will never go away, is this real brothership. Weâve had these experiences that no one else can relate to.â
Styles has become quite the superstar. The others seem to have steady solo careers. Tomlinson says heâs embarrassed to admit that, when he first went solo, he would have been devastated had his album âonlyâ reached No 3, so used is he to everything he did with One Direction going to the top. Is it hard not to measure himself against his former bandmates? âOh, naturally,â he says. âIâd be lying if I said I didnât. Iâve never been competitive like that, but, naturally, you think: âIf theyâre getting this then I deserve that.â I think, the longer time goes on, I can see it for what it is and just be proud of them.â And success means something else to him now. âIt means Iâm happy with what Iâm doing.â
#louis tomlinson#pop and rock#one direction#music#the x factor#press#240919#kmm press#the guardian#Guardian Life & Arts#tw death#stunt mention
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