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prose-for-hire · 4 years ago

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Smile, though your heart is breaking

Pairing: Bi!Cordelia Chase x fem!reader; Xander Harris x Cordelia Chase; Xander x fem!reader (familial/platonic)

Request: hi! i already requested some cordy x reader but i have another idea, if i may! could i have a fic where reader is Xander’s sister, and she walks in on them kissing. reader has a crush on cordy and xander knows this. cue angst and sibling fights 😭!

Requested by: Anon

You had a crush on Cordy. You had played it off as silly and fleeting at first, but as you became closer friends it grew.

She was the reason you realised that you liked women. Discovered and began to love yourself and your sexuality. She was such a gift to you and yet she never knew.

A while after, you told Xander about your sexuality. He was shocked, struggling to comprehend it but he held you in a hug. Showing you that you would always be his sister, even if he was still coming to terms with your news himself.

Eventually you came out to the others. Everyone except Cordy. You weren’t prepared for her not to want to be your friend anymore. You were scared of the rejection. You adored her so much, you were happy with platonic so long as you could be close with her.

The others supported you and those that were unsure at first slowly got more used to it. They loved you, you were such a good friend, a big part of your close-knit little group. Things were going well.

Months later, as you sat on the bleachers with Xander and your friends watching a school football game, he turned to look at you and saw you staring at the cheerleaders.

“Stare much?” He muttered.

“I was trying to, um, pick up the routine” You offered, smiling at him.

“Oh yeah, ‘course. You’re so gay, y/n” He joked, showing how far he had come. How much more comfortable he was with you. He was the only one allowed to tease you though, if anyone else did he got really annoyed.

“Shut up, Xander” You shoved his shoulder and he mock-surrendered. The others all knew now and smiled along with your sibling squabbling.

When the game was over, you and your friends all walked back together. Buffy, your brother, Willow and Cordelia walked with you towards your respective homes. You were in good spirits, it was a rare night where there were no demons or anything. You could just relax and have a nice time.

You lit up when Cordy specifically moved through your little crowd to walk beside you. You giggled together and she gave you one of her pom-poms to hold as you walked almost completely in-step. She spoke to you a lot nicer than she did with anyone else, you were probably the one Scooby that could claim that you were genuinely good friends with her.

She offered you a lift back home in her car that she had parked a few blocks away because so many people were parked in the usual lot. You declined, starting to get nervous that she would find you really lame. Not to mention Xander would have to come too and they just got into a insult-slinging contest when they were both together.

Cordy looked a little disappointed but shrugged and waved goodbye before getting into her car. You regretted it instantly. You could have given Xander the code and told him to walk, but he probably would have insisted to come in the car just to annoy you.

You watched her drive away before you realised that she had left you with the pompom and you smiled down at it. It was like she trusted you. You had a piece of her to take home with you. You smiled the entire way home and Xander thought you had gone mad. Later in the evening, you decided to admit that you were crushing on her. Really hard.

“I think I’m in love” You whispered to Xander, in case anyone else was in the house and could hear through walls. You were both brushing your teeth, a little tradition you had left over from when you were growing up. You used to do everything together.

“Oh yeah? Poor girl” Your brother teased. You rolled your eyes and spat into the basin.

“I’m being serious! I wanna hold her hand and touch her face and-” you started to stare dreamily off into the distance before he interrupted.

“Please say somethin’ normal like have sex with her”

“I want to cherish her, hold her! Tell her that I love her” You frowned at him for being crude. You wanted a love story with her, she was so special to you.

“Who is she then?” Xander asked while the toothbrush was still in his mouth.

“Cordelia” You smiled.

“Not the devil in designer boots!” he was genuinely surprised at this.

“She’s not like that!” You insisted and he gave you a look before you left him to go to bed. He continued to tease you mercilessly about it for the rest of the week. You wished you hadn’t said anything, Xander had never really been a fan of Cordelia.

Although, what you didn’t realise was that somewhere after you had revealed your crush on Cordy, Xander and her had started to steamily make-out in secret. Whenever they got the chance. Today, it had been in a deserted art classroom.

You had been sent there to steal some paper for Giles for the library. There was an inter-department free-for-all on paper and Giles was currently losing the battle.

You opened the door, your intuition giving you a bad feeling. But you walked in anyway. Just in time to see your brother sticking his tongue down Cordy’s throat.

“Oh” Was all you said before you backed away, slammed the door and ran. Tears blurred your eyes as you sprinted, letting your legs take you as far away as you could.

The pair sprung apart immediately. They walked around everywhere looking for you. They squabbled and almost bit each other’s heads off over it. Neither of them had ever wanted you to see that, for very different reasons.

Eventually, when they had stopped an entire football practice by shouting at each other in the middle of the pitch they decided it was better if they split up and looked for you.

Xander found you in the late afternoon, sobbing into a book. You had made your way back to the library after hiding in the bathrooms for most of the day.

You had decided to cry in a change of scenery. Giles had insisted you really didn’t need to be there researching but you said you wanted to help. Or, he thought that’s what you said he couldn’t really hear over all the crying noises.

You were heartbroken. Twice over.

Giles had tried twice to take the book you were leaning over, he wanted to save the pages from water damage. But you had insisted on helping and he didn’t want to make you cry harder. He had retired in his little adjoining office. Crying made him uncomfortable and he was fond of you which made him feel worse for you.

“Y/n! God, I’ve been looking everywhere!” Xander said. As if he didn’t have a care in the world. You stood up, closing the book shut with a soggy snap. Giles took his glasses off and cleaned them, he wanted to come and give Xander a piece of his own mind once you had explained what had happened. However, as you started to speak, he knew you could handle your brother.

“You knew how I feel about her! You knew and you still-” You tried to calm yourself down, but your next sentence came out angrier and even louder, “You don’t even like each other for fuck sake!” Your voice echoed around the empty library.

“Woah, hey, y/n calm down” he said, waving both of his hands out to try and get you to be quieter. He didn’t want people to know why you were shouting. He was embarrassed. It made you feel even worse.

“Are you kidding?! Calm-?” Your temper was rising and you didn’t know if your relationship with him was going to survive this, “You know how much I like her and you just let me talk about it over and over like some idiot! All the while you were kissing her behind my back!”

“Y/n, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t even know it was that serious” Xander shrugged, but he did feel guilty. But he would have done it again, he knew it. Kissing her was fun.

He did become more guilty, especially so when Cordy had explained to him that she was bisexual and he had neglected to tell you. Which, on one hand of course it wasn’t his place but on the other he had done this for entirely selfish reasons.

“You liar! You’re so selfish Xander Harris! I hate you!” You screamed, shoving him away when he tried to rest a hand on your elbow.

You felt so betrayed. You were disappointed in him. He was supposed to be family. Your own brother. He supported you but only so long as it benefitted him. He loved you, but he still whether intentionally or not blocked you from even trying to date the woman you were interested in.

You stormed off, barely missing that you passed Cordelia in the corridor. She had heard everything. But you had tears in your eyes, blurring your vision. You needed to get out of there.

You stayed at Willow’s. You told her everything and Willow explained what she had heard from Xander. Your best friend was completely on your side.

She told you a secret that night, one you kept hidden from the others until she was ready. You bonded over the things you had been hiding. But, you weren’t so sure your affection for Cordelia was hidden anymore.

This was confirmed to you when Willow came up to her room and told you that you had a visitor. You frowned, not sure who it could be. You skipped down the stairs, having put yourself in a better mood with your best friend by your side.

But you stopped as you descended, and you swear your heart did too when you saw her standing there. The light hit her face perfectly, she was glowing. As always.

She smiled, shakily. The corners of her eyes crinkled in that way you adored when she was truly happy. But, why would she be happy to see you? After everything she had found out.

“Cor, what are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing. Is that a crime?” She said a little more half-hearted than she usually would. She seemed almost nervous to face you.

“No, except you did once say that if you were ever seen dead in whatever frumpy bungalow that willow lived in-”

“I know what I said, I didn’t really mean it. They’re just words” She shrugged, interrupting you. She forgot half of the mean things she said sometimes.

“Okay…” You said a little awkwardly. You knew that she knew. So, you thought it better to just let her speak. It was one of her favourite hobbies, after all. A hobby you usually loved, she turned insults into an art form.

“I’m here because-” She took a deep breath, this was so important to her she couldn’t get it wrong, “Because I like women. Uh, but mostly I like you.”

“You… like me? Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“No! I only- I know this makes me look so totally heinous but I only got close with Xander because I wanted to get close to… you”

“You got bored of one sibling and wanted to hop onto the next? I don’t think that I’m comfortable with that” You explained truthfully. It was weird to you.

It was all you had ever wanted her to say, but it was still just so alien to you at the moment. As if you were dreaming. You were ten seconds away from pinching yourself because it felt too good to be true.

“I just wanted you to know, I had nothing to lose anymore. I broke it off with him as soon as I heard what you said” She explained, referring to hearing the way you felt.

“I-I need some time” you explained, your thoughts still spinning so fast around your head that you were starting to get dizzy.

“Anything, for you” Cordy nodded her voice barely above a whisper as she opened her arms to you. You almost fainted in shock, bowling her over as you embraced her. She wrapped her arms around you, inhaling happily.

She had wanted this for so long and you never even knew. She had stolen glances when you weren’t looking. Watched you from afar and imagined detailed fantasies of being close to you. Perhaps even kissing you. She had even gotten way too close to your brother in an attempt to learn more about you. She had been lonely, it was her only explanation.

You moved from the close hug and she wasn’t able to stop herself from grinning. You wanted to trust her, but you weren’t there yet. You needed a change to sort through your own feelings.

She turned and left and you watched her go. Things weren’t great with your brother. Your friendship group was fractured. But as you watched her turn back and wave at you, you had something special starting.

It started small in the back of your mind, but it was slowly growing. Hope.

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bobasheebaby · 5 years ago

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100 Buffy Prompts

I had a lot of fun compiling this list. I was cracking up more than once and now I want to binge Buffy. If there is a show you want let me know because these seriously help me shut of my brain during this covid hell.

1 “NAME, your mouth is open, sound is coming from it. This is never good.” – Buffy Summers

2 “I just want to be alone and quite in a room with a chair and a fireplace and a tea cozy. I don’t even know what a tea cozy is, but I want one.” – Buffy Summers

3 "They were supposed to be my light at the end of the tunnel. I guess they were a train.” – Buffy Summers

4 “I don’t know what’s coming next. But I do know it’s gonna be just like this – hard, painful. But in the end, it’s gonna be us. If we all do our parts, believe it, we’ll be the one’s left standing.” – Buffy Summers

5 “I don’t handle rejection well. Funny, considering all the practice I’ve had, huh?” – Xander Harris

6 "Just because you’re better than us doesn’t mean you can be all superior.” – Xander Harris

7 “I’m leaning towards blind panic myself.” – Rupert Giles

8 “Since the picture you just painted means that I will never touch food of any kind again, you’ll just have to pick it up yourself.” – Rupert Giles

9 "With all the rubbish people keep sticking in my head, it's a wonder that there's room for my brain." – Spike

10 "Oh, I don't know. Looking in the mirror every day and seeing nothing there...it's an overrated pleasure.” – Angel

11 "Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping, waiting, and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir. Open it's jaws, and howl. It speaks to us, guides us. Passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have?" – Angel

12 "Anyway, for real now, I'm gonna ask you something, and you gotta promise you'll be honest and not spare my feelings just 'cause I could kill you. You promise?" Faith

13 "You gotta give me something to do. There's no way I'm sleeping. Don't you need anyone dead? Or maimed? I can settle for maimed.” – Faith

14 "You know, I honestly don't think there's a human word fabulous enough for me.”- Glorificus

15 “I’m cookie dough. I’m not done baking. I’m not finished becoming whoever the hell it is I’m gonna turn out to be. I make it through this, and the next thing, and the next thing, and maybe one day, I turn around and realize I’m ready. I’m cookies. And then, you know, if I want someone to eat m — or enjoy warm, delicious, cookie me, then that’s fine. That’ll be then. When I’m done.” �� Buffy Summers

16 “Seize the moment, ’cause tomorrow you might be dead.” — Buffy Summers

17 “The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Be brave. Live.” — Buffy Summers

18 “No weapons. No friends. No hope. Take all that away and what’s left?” “Me.” — Angelus & Buffy Summers

19 “Don’t you have an elsewhere to be?” – Cordelia Chase

20 “God! What is your childhood trauma?!” – Cordelia Chase

21 “Gee, can you vague that up for me?” – Buffy Summers

22 “I laugh in the face of danger. Then I hide until it goes away.” – Xander Harris

23 “I don’t know what your problem is, what your issues are. But as of this moment I officially don’t care.” – Xander Harris

24 “You’re really campaigning for bitch of the year, aren’t you?” – Cordelia Chase

25 “I mock you with my monkey pants!” – Oz

26 “Funny how preparing looks an awful lot like sitting on your ass.” – Spike

27 “That’s fairly freaksome.” – Oz

28 “Do you have any tact at all?” – Giles

29 “I’ve known you for two minutes and I can’t stand you.” – Spike

30 “Great. Now I’m gonna be stuck with serious thoughts all day.” – Cordelia Chase

31 “You didn’t happen to take a lot of drugs, did you?” – Willow

32 “I’ve seen honest faces…they usually come attached to liars.” – Willow

33 “Can I be blind, too?” – Xander

34 “Gee, I hope I’m not interrupting anything really depressing.” – Riley

35 “And you just accepted that? I only said that because I thought that’s what you wanted to hear.” – Anya

36 “This is the crack team that foils my every plan? I am deeply shamed.” – Spike

37 “We’ve got to face it, we’ve changed. Well, not you—you’re still sadistic and self-centered.” – Giles

38 “Sometimes the most adult thing you can do is ask for help when you need it.” – Giles

39 “Did everybody have their Crazy Flakes today?” – Xander

40 “Do you love me?” “What?” “Do you?” “I love you. I don't know if I trust you.” “Maybe you shouldn't do either.” “Maybe I'm the one who should decide!” — Angel & Buffy

41 “Six a.m.!" NAME cried. "I know that's a number on my clock, but I've never actually been awake to personally witness it!” — Xander

42 “Bored now.” — Vampire Willow

43 “We’ll go be heroes.” — Spike

44 “You have a plan?” “I am the plan.” — Giles & Buffy

45 "Strong is fighting. It's hard and it's painful, and it's every day. It's what we have to do. And we can do it together." — Buffy

46 "I make it through this and the next thing and the next thing, and maybe one day I turn around and realize I'm ready." — Buffy

47 "You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. NAME, the hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Be brave. Live, for me." — Buffy

48 "Make your choices. Are you ready to be strong?" — Buffy

49 “Weird love’s better than no love.” — Buffy

50 “The who having wha with huh?” — Buffy

51 “Whatever you choose, you’ve got my support. Just think of me as… as your… You know, I’m searching for supportive things and I’m coming up all bras. So, something slightly more manly, think of me as that.” – Xander

52 "A lot of things that seem strong and good and powerful, they can be painful." Angel

53 "To forgive is an act of compassion, NAME. It's-it's... it's not done because people deserve it. It's done because they need it." — Giles

54 "In the end, we all are who we are, no matter how much we may appear to have changed." — Giles

55 "I don't have time for vendettas. The mission is what matters." — Buffy

56 "I don't want to protect you from the world. I want to show it to you." — Buffy

57 "Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?" — Buffy

58 "Recognizing power in another does not diminish your own." — Joss Whedon

59 “Out. For. A. Walk… Bitch.” — Spike

60 “You can’t see the stars, love. That’s the ceiling. Also, it’s day.” — Spike

61 “Is everyone here very stoned?” — Spike

62 “I feel safe with you.” [Chokes] “TAKE THAT BACK!” — Dawn & Spike

63 “I love you.” “Oh, my god.” “Hey, no. Look at me. I... love you. You're all I bloody think about... dream about. You're in my gut... my throat... I'm drowning in you, NAME. I'm drowning in you.” — Spike & Buffy

64 “Just... give me something. A crumb, the barest smidgen. Tell me maybe, someday there's a chance” “NAME ... the only chance you had with me was when I was unconscious.” “Oh, wha-“ [screams, then shouts] “What the bleeding hell is wrong with you bloody men/women? What the hell does it take? Why do you bitches torture me?” “Which question do you want me to answer first?” — Spike & Buffy

65 “You can't deny it. There's something between us.” “Loathing. Disgust.” — Spike & Buffy

66 “Could do without the laugh track, NAME.” “But it's so funny. I knew... before you did. I knew you loved the NAME. The pixies in my head whispered it to me.” — Spike & Drusilla

67 “Damn right I’m impure! I’m as impure as the driven yellow snow.” — Spike

68 “I love you.” “No, you don’t. But thanks for saying it.” — Spike & Buffy

69 “This with you, it’s wrong. I know it. I’m not a complete idiot.” — Spike

70 “You always hurt the ones you love, pet.” — Spike

71 "When I say ‘I love you,’ it’s not because I want you or because I can’t have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. I’ve seen the best and worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are." — Buffy

72 "I’m just gonna go home, lie down, and listen to country music. The music of pain." — Buffy

73 "I have feelings for you. I do. But it's not love. I could never trust you enough for it to be love." — Buffy

74 "Weird love's better than no love." — Buffy

75 “People don’t fall in love with what’s right in front of them. People want the dream — what they can’t have. The more unattainable, the more attractive.” — Buffy

76 "Trust is for old marrieds, NAME. Great love is wild and passionate and dangerous. It burns and consumes." “Until there's nothing left. Love like that doesn't last." — Spike & Buffy

77 "This isn't some fairy tale. When I kiss you...you don't wake up from a deep sleep and live happily ever after" — Angel

78 "I love you. I try not to, but I can't stop" — Angel

79 "If I may suggest, ‘This time it's personal.’ I mean, there's a reason why it's a classic." —Oz

80 "Well, to the casual observer, it would appear that you're trying to make your friend NAME jealous, or even the score, or something. And...that's on the empty side. See, in my fantasy, when I'm kissing you, you're kissing me. It's okay, I can wait." — Oz

81 "NAME’s our friend...except I don't like him/her.” — Xander

82 "What am I gonna do? I think about sex all the time! Sex ... Help! Four times five is thirty ... five times six is thirty-two ... Naked girls. Naked women ... Naked NAME ... Oh, stop me!" — Xander

83 "Man, NAME! My whole life just flashed before my eyes. I gotta' get me a life!" — Xander

84 “NAME. You're really campaigning for bitch-of-the-year, aren't you?” “As defending champion, you nervous?” — Cordelia & Buffy

85 "Tact is just not saying true stuff. I'll pass." — Cordelia

86 “Oh please. Like shame is something to be proud of.” — Cordelia

87 “I’m going to give you some advice: get over it.” — Cordelia

88 “Oh, and you’re welcome.” — Cordelia

89 “I’m not a sniveling little cry-NAME. I’m the nastiest guy/girl in PLACE history. I take crap from no one.” — Cordelia

90 “I think it. I say it. It’s my way.” — Cordelia

91 "I don't like spiders, okay? Their furry bodies, and their sticky webs, and what do they need all those legs for anyway? I'll tell you - for crawling across your face in the middle of the night." — Willow

92 "I don't want danger. Big 'no’ to danger.” — Willow

93 "Let's get this straight. I don't understand it. I don't wanna' understand it. You have gross emotional problems. And things are not okay between us." — Willow

94 "NAME, I got so lost." "I found you. I will always find you." — Tara & Willow

95 "But you like him/her, and when you think about him/her, you get that good down-low tickle, right?" — Faith

96 "You hurt me, I hurt you. I'm just a little more efficient." — Faith

97 "Just relax ... and take off your pants." — Faith

98 "I am, you know." “What?" “Yours." — Tara & Willow

99 "I don't have time for bondage fun." - Buffy

100 “It's fine, I don't need to be snuggled.” — Willow

#buffy prompts #buffy quotes #btvs #writing prompts #dialogue prompts #drabble prompts #buffy summers #angel #cordelia chase #rupert giles #xander harris #willow rosenberg #faith #spike #quaratine sucks and making these keeps my mind busy #i live in covid 19 hell

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thelastranger · 5 years ago

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“Man door hook hand ship door”

I have no excuse except the image of Jesper telling Thorn Hookyhand this has not left my mind in several days.

The Herons are sitting around a campfire one night on the The Heron. It's in the middle of their journey and they need a break. Thorn had gone off grumbling about how he needed some alone time and the teens were alone.

"Thorn's not around. Let's tell some scary stories." suggests Stefan eagerly. They all agreed, some more reluctantly than others.

Stefan told the best one of the night so far, but Lydia had a bone chilling tale of a miner and a collapsed mine. Ingvar straight up refused to tell one and Edvin's was too convoluted for it to be truly scary. Finally, it was Jesper's turn.

"This is the scariest tale I know. Be prepared to scream."

None of the Herons took Jesper's warning seriously. They should have. He started his tale.

"man & girl go out to sail under moonlight they stop at on at a side of riverbank

he turn to his girl and say

"baby, I love you very much

what is it honey?

"our ship is broken down. I think the rudder is broken. ill swim and get some more wood."

"ok ill stay here and look after our mangler. there have been news report of mnglers being stolen

good idea. keep the doors locked no matter what i love you sweaty.

so the guy left to get wooud for the ship. after two hours the girl say where is my

baby, he was supposed to be back by now". then the girl here a scratching

sound and voice say "LET ME IN

the girl doesnt do it and then after a while she goes to sleep.

the next morning she wakes up and finds her boyfriend still not there she gets out to

check and man door hand hook ship door"

There was silence for a long time. Jesper had a satisfied smile on his face; he had scared everyone.

Finally Wulf spoke. "What in the name of Gorlog was that supposed to-"

Stefan cut him off with wide eyes. "Shut up! Do you all hear something?"

Everyone strained their hears. Slowly, but surely, they could hear something in the distance. Scritch, scritch, scritch. It was the sound of metal on wood. Scritch, scritch, scritch.

The sound came closer. It was louder now. Scritch, scritch, scritch.

In the loudest whisper he dare muster, Ulf yelled at Jesper. "ARE YOU DOING THIS?"

Jesper shook his head, terror plain on his face. "N-no."

His face white, Stig stood up. "I'll take a look." The dark didn't quite disguise his gulp of fear, but everyone ignored it.

"What if it's the man door hand hook ship door?" Ulf pulled Stig down but was thrown off for his efforts.

Stig crept towards the side of the ship carefully. When he got to the side, he looked around and shook his head.

"There's nothing here you-" A hooked hand slammed down on his hand, interrupting his thought.

"AHHHHHHH!" No one was quite sure who screamed first but soon they were all screaming. Ulf and Jesper ran into each other, knocking the other down. Stefan was halfway out of the boat, frozen in terror.

A shadowy figure burst onto the ship and waved his hook hand around. Everyone screamed louder.

"AAAHHHHHHHHHH!" No one had ever heard Hal scream that high.

Finally, in all the commotion, Ingvar grabbed Edvin's frying pan and slammed it into the shadowy figure's head. The figure dropped and rolled into the firelight. It was Thorn.

Now everyone was really frozen in terror. They heard a splash; Stefan had fallen into the water.

"What are we going to do?" wailed Wulf.

"You knocked out Thorn!" cried Ulf. "He's gonna make us run drills until we die! It's all Ingvar's fault!"

"Don't blame Ingvar," Lydia twirled and pointed at Jesper. "Blame him! H etold the story"

"Me? You're the ones that got scared!"

Stefan was splashing around in the water. "My whole brain is freaking out right now!"

This started a four way argument between Lydia, Jesper, Ulf and Wulf, and Ingvar. Stig was trying to keep the peace, but Lydia kept making some really good points. Thorn was still sprawled on the ground.

Personally, Edvin was more scared of how quickly the brotherband had turned on each other, but all things considered it was a reasonable response. Edvin turned to Hal. "Please tell me you have some idea of how to fix this..."

Hal thought deeply. He looked at the mess in front of him. He looked at Thorn, unconscious on the ground, limbs sprawled all over. He looked at Stefan splashing around. Hal had only one shot to fix this.

"Guys, this may sound crazy but you have to trust me."

Some time later, Thorn started to stir from the frying pan induced slumber. All around him, the other Herons started to wake up and look around. All Thorn could remember after he came back to the Heron was dark shapes, a whole lot of screaming, and not much else.

"What in Gorlog's beard happened?" He said, rubbing a bump on his head.

The Herons exchanged guileless looks with each other.

"I guess we ALL got hit with a frying pan." Hal was a bit too nonchalant in his deliver, but Thorn didn't notice the over enunciation.

"Yeah, somebody hit all of us with a frying pan," Jesper swayed a little. They really needed to sell this act and someone had to carry the team.

Ingvar stiffly began his rehearsed part. "And now we're ALL," He spread his arms out wide. "Gaining conscious together. At the exact same time. What a coincidence"

Thorn looked at them and scratched his head with his hook. This act caused all of the Herons to stiffen.

"I don't understand. How were all of us knocked out and by who? Did someone try to enter the ship? I told you to keep the doors locked." Narrowing his eyes, Thorn looked around the boat suspiciously.

Jesper glanced at Hal. Halt nodded at Stig who slowly reached for the frying pan.

Man door hand hook ship door indeed.

Thorn never really figured out what happened that night and no one dared to tell him. It slowly became a laughable moment and all it takes for then on is the single utterance of "Man door hand hook ship door" to break any of the Herons down into laughter.

The tale becomes very popular around Hallasholm and, over time, gets immortalized forever and is inscribed in a book of famous tales. The book is forgotten until Professor Giles MacFarlane and his assistant professor Audrey find a copy in their excavation of Hallasholm after their success in Araluen. The story is revived, but distorted, and it inspires many other tales like it.

#Brotherband Chronicles #Hal Mikkelson #Stig Olafson #Thorn Hookyhand #Wulf and Ulf #Edvin #Stefan #Ingvar #Lydia Demarek #I am so sorry for writing this shameless rip off of Community and Man Door Hand Hook Car Door #BB fic #Ranger's Apprentice #Kind of

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varricmancer · 6 years ago

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Lost And Found | 3

Pairing: Varric Tethras x OC

Word Count: 5,880

Summary: Instead of the nothingness she had craved, Crystal woke up in the world of Thedas. What had once been merely a story that she loved now seemed very real and she was right in the heart of it all. She soon finds a reason to live again and a love in the arms of someone as quietly broken as her.

Warnings: Attempted suicide (not graphic, but possible trigger). The OC has depression and low self-esteem, so don’t expect her to be some bright mary sue. At the same time, this sounds darker than it is. It’s going to have fluff and comedy and all that eventually, but OC has some growing to do first. She’s just not the usual strong and easygoing character many oc’s are. She’s more of a delicate creature. Also, it is Dragon Age, so there will be descriptions of war/battles/violence.

Notes: Would you guys be interested in a chapter from Varric’s POV?

The day after the Herald left the crossroads was spent packing up what Crystal thought she’d need to keep from her little borrowed hut. Giles had assured her that she was free to take anything, but she only wanted to take essentials considering how much traveling they’d be doing not only now, but in the future when they would need to move to Skyhold.

She left out what she would need for the remaining week, of course, but packed up everything else she wanted to keep. All she had to use were flour sacks until she could afford to get something better. All she determined worth keeping was the clothing she could actually wear, the fur and small blanket from the bed (she hoped for a decent place at Haven, but she also knew they were still starting out and struggling too), and the small collection of paper and charcoal sticks she’d been hoarding. She’d been itching to draw, but paper itself was hard to obtain for the common folk as it was all made by hand. Parchment was a little easier, but still hard to come by in the middle of the wilderness.

She spent several days like that, giving away what she couldn’t use and preparing the hut for the next occupant. It was on the third night that the sending crystal Varric had given her began to glow. She picked it up and sat on her cot in anxious fascination. She was a little worried about trying to keep up with a conversation on such a weird device, not that she’d been any better at them on cellphones. Texting was much more her speed. After a few moments, the crystal made a little sound like a delicate bell, followed by the rumbles of Varric’s voice.

“So, the Magistrate is standing there looking like he has a giant staff up his ass and goes, "I was looking for someone with your...special talents.” You can tell right away that Hawke has decided to fuck with the guy, because he gets that crazy grin of his going and says, “I'm guessing you don't mean my ability to juggle small rodents while humming Orlesian ballads."

There’s a rumble of laughter and Crystal realizes that he’s telling a story to his group, probably sitting around a fire at one of the camps. She smiles to herself and lays on her little cot, listening as he continues the story. She doesn’t even mind if he probably did the Thedas version of butt-dialing her. She found his voice comforting, a bit of familiarity in this strange land. She soon found herself falling asleep with a smile on her face.

***

It quickly became apparent after three more nights of the sending crystal activating that Varric was letting her listen to the stories on purpose. She couldn’t figure out why, but she was grateful. She’d spend her days helping where she could around the village, and her nights relaxing in her cot listening to the stories, some familiar and some he was clearly making up on the spot. Sometimes the others would join in and tell stories of their own, sometimes they would just discuss things that happened that day and their plans for the next. Anytime the conversation swayed towards discussing Crystal herself, she noticed Varric was quick to change the subject. She figured the others weren’t aware she was listening in.

The best reason she could come up with was that he’d been very observant and noticed she had the constitution of a terrified rabbit and had decided to try to let her get to know them a little bit before she ran off with them. It seemed like a very Varric-like thing for him to do, she supposed.

Tonight, however, she was hoping to hear it in person as it had been a week. She figured if they wanted to be technical they wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow, but she’d heard that the Herald had been spotted nearby and would most likely arrive in the crossroads in a matter of hours. Being that it was the middle of the afternoon already, she guessed they would most likely stay the night and leave for Haven the next day.

Thankfully, they would be arriving to see an improved situation. The sisters and Mother Giselle had already left for Haven days ago, taking the wounded soldiers with them. That cleaned up the area quite a bit, as people were able to take back their own houses and the area was no longer haunted by the screams of the dying.

With the supplies the Herald had given them, the people themselves were looking better. Everyone was well fed and clothed. Crystal had even gotten to bathe with real soap, simple as it had been. It probably wasn’t good to use it on her hair, but she didn’t care. She was clean from head to toe for the first time in weeks, even if she’d still had to use a bucket of water instead of an actual tub. She was just happy that the next time she saw everyone, she wouldn’t look like an unbathed goblin.

In fact, as she slipped in feet into the best looking pair of shoes she could find, she realized she’d unconsciously taken a great deal of care with her appearance. It had taken her nearly an hour to dry her long hair near the fire (good God she missed hair dryers), and she’d let the results fall freely down her back in cascading waves. She was pleased that the harsh soap didn’t seem to dry it out that much. The dress she was wearing was the best she could find, long and a lovely royal blue color, if a bit scratchy. Obviously, she wasn’t going to find something of amazing quality out in the middle of nowhere, but she looked decent enough in it and the color looked good with her brown hair.

She was growing nervous, she realized, as she began fluttering around her little hut. She was anxious to get out of here, yes, but that also meant she was going right into the middle of everything. She was terrified that maybe she was making a mistake and should just stick it out here, or at least wait until they went to Skyhold before joining them. That would be the cowardly choice, of course, but she’d never claimed to be brave.

She huffed in frustration and grabbed a precious piece of paper and one of her charcoal sticks, striding outside to sit near the little pond. There was a log stump there that she liked to use as a table, so she set her things down and observed the bustle of the little village. Soon enough she caught sight of Giles standing near the crossroads sign speaking to one of the Inquisition soldiers. She smiled and set charcoal to paper, letting her overactive mind quiet as she drew. The paper wasn’t what she was used, of course, and the bumps and ridges in it made her displeased with the result, but it would do.

After nearly half an hour, she judged her sketch good enough and cleaned the charcoal from her hands with a quick flick in the pond. She didn’t want to risk getting anything on the one good dress she had. Giles hadn’t moved from his spot near the stone fence, though the soldier whose ear he’d been talking off had since moved on, so she walked over to join him. He grinned when she got close enough, waggling his eyebrows in his exaggerated way.

“Well, don’t ye clean up nicely, lass.”

“I’m hoping after the past few weeks we’ve all had that we all cleaned up nicely,” she laughed, then shyly handed the paper to Giles.

“For me?” He stood up straight and took the paper, whistling as he looked it over. “Now, no ones ever made my likeness before, but even I can tell this is good.”

She beamed from the simple praise. “I studied art. Not sure what good that’s going to do me here, but it’s what I know. Anyway, this is just a simple thank you for looking out for me. You know I don’t have anything else, so this is the least I could do.”

Giles reached out and squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. “Lass, ye don’t owe me a thing except staying safe. I feel like I’m sending ye right into the mouth o’ the beast, but the Herald lad seems a good sort. Certainly helped the crossroads, and I hear tell he shut down the fighting all over the Hinterlands. I think if I have to trust anyone with ye, it would be him and his lot.”

There was a commotion near the tunnel and the two shared a looked before observing as people crowded the party coming out of it. She sent Giles a little grin and wandered over, hoping it was who she thought it was.

The Herald and his crew were all riding new mounts, along with a few riderless ones behind them. The trip to Dennant was apparently successful. The mounts varied greatly from the Herald’s Fereldan Forder to Solas’s Red Hart. She was not looking forward to hearing that thing in person. It was bad enough in the game.

One of the mounts without a rider was a Battle Nug, something she’d never thought she’d see in her life beyond the screen. It was cute in a strange sort of way, with the rhino face and bunny ears. The hairless skin was cocoa brown, not unlike her own hair. Although the gorilla-like hands would take some getting used to. How did it not hurt it to run around on those things?

Varric separated from the party, trotting his sturdy looking pony over to her and jumping down as he grinned. The once over he gave her was fairly subtle, but not enough that she didn’t catch the way his eyes roamed over the curves revealed by her almost too tight dress. She could also see just how quickly he dismissed whatever he was thinking as he turned to observe the nug.

“Ugly, huh?” he chuckled. “Pretty sure he just gave it to us because no one else was buyin. Apparently, it’s a runt and when people actually buy these things they want em big.”

“It’s kinda cute in a way,” she shrugged, her smile widening when he groaned.

“You’re going to get along great with Red. She has two of the regular ones at Haven. She’s going to freak when she sees this guy.”

“Is that who he’s for?”

“Don’t know yet. When I said he gave it to us, I meant really gave. As in threw it in for free. I guess while it goes along easy enough, it’s really picky about who rides it. Wouldn’t let any of us touch him more than a couple pats. Dennant says it’s nice and well trained though,” Varric shrugs, and walks next to her as she goes closer to the Battle Nug.

As if it had sensed it was being talked about, the beast’s attention zeroed in on the two of them. Its snout wiggled as it scented the air, before releasing a loud huff and walking closer. Crystal reached out her hand and let it sniff at her, giggling as the heated breath tickled her. After getting in a few good sniffs, it batted it’s head against her hand, begging for pets. She scratched the area between his huge horns, the feel of the skin not unlike a hairless cat she’d once pet.

Suddenly, it surprised both of them when the Battle Nug dropped down and began trying to herd her towards it’s back.

“I think it wants you to ride it,” Varric chuckles, shaking his head.

Crystal stuttered, “What? I’m...I don’t even know how to ride.”

“How were you planning on getting to Haven?” Varric asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” she answered weakly, staring at the huge saddled back of the nug. “A wagon or something?”

“If that was the case you should have gone with the sisters. With us, you’d have to ride. I suppose if you’re really scared you can ride with one of us, but it looks like this big lug has chosen you, so maybe you can give it a try at least.”

She bites her lip and stares as she tries to gather enough courage to climb up. The nug is still nuzzling into her side, trying to encourage her, she supposes.

“I’m wearing a dress, Varric.”

“The saddle is big enough that you could sit side saddle. I’ll help you up.”

She sighs and lets Varric lead her to the side of the beast.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m not a big fan of riding either, but it gets the job done,” Varric shrugs and laces his hands together as a makeshift mounting block.

She straightens her back, nodding in a show of fake bravery. She places her hand on Varric’s shoulder and is momentarily distracted by how solid it felt under her fingers. Thick and muscled - and flexing? A quick glance at Varric’s lazy grin and dark eyes is enough proof that he knew where her mind had gone and was maybe showing off a little.

She flushed and quickly lifted a leg, stopped by Varric clicking his tongue.

“The right leg first for side saddle.”

She nods and does as he says, placing her right leg in his cupped hands. He boosts her up a little and she scoots into the leather saddle. The squeal she makes when the nug stands up was embarrassing, and Varrics slow chuckles didn’t help.

“Alright, now these guys are pretty slow so you don’t need to worry about speed. Reins are fairly easy; left and right, pull back lightly when you want to stop. Press into him with your thighs to go.”

Crystal releases the death grip she has on the saddle horn, reaching for the reins. Her hands are shaking and she’s sure the nug can sense how scared she is because he’s not making any sudden movements; just stands there patiently waiting. She exhales and digs her thighs in and the nug starts a gentle trot. She barely has to do anything with the reins as it makes little circles and walks up and down a tiny stretch of road, occasionally shaking its head and looking back at her.

The Herald had joined Varric as they stood watching her, and she waved at him and sent him a little shaky smile.

“Look at that. He wouldn’t let any of us on him, and now he’s prancing around like a pony. Look at him showing you off,” Maxwell chuckled as he greeted her.

This wasn’t so bad, she mused. She relaxed a bit and let the nug wander around until it walked back to the rest of the mounts. She pulled the reins back gently and it stopped completely, dropping belly down so she could slide off easily.

She was a little unsteady still from the adrenaline rush and nearly fell as her knees buckled. Varric was quickly at her side, wrapping a thick arm around her waist as Maxwell reached a hand out in concern.

“You good there?”

She nodded and grinned sheepishly, “Just a little shaky. First time rider.”

Maxwell grimaced with sympathy, “Yes, I remember my first time. I couldn’t sit well for two days.”

Varrics sniggers quietly and she rolls her eyes while Maxwell continues on, oblivious.

“Make sure you used creams or oils to make it a smoother ride.”

Varric’s snickers have become outright guffaws and Crystal finds herself giggling when Maxwell stares at them in confusion for a full minute before he finally groans.

“Varric, you have the sense of humor of a child.”

The dwarf’s laughter quiets slowly and he shrugs, flashing the Herald a playful grin.

“Anyway,” Maxwell begins with a sigh, “Since the nug hasn’t let anyone else ride him and it appears he’s decided he likes you, he’s yours,” he nods towards Crystal.

Her jaw drops and she looks between the Herald and the giant beast.

“Oh, really, I couldn’t.”

“Of course you can. I’m giving him to you. He was free, so it’s not like it’s a great burden. And before you can use any other arguments, the Inquisition will handle his basic care needs like food and such. Congratulations.”

She opened her mouth to retort but with nothing coming to mind her jaw snapped shut. She sighed and flushed.

“Fine. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. When you get a moment, please join us for a meal and we can discuss the events of the last week and our future plans.”

With that, Maxwell saluted the two of them and sauntered off, whistling.

“He’s kind of a brat, isn’t he?”

Varric snorts, “Yeah, a bit.”

Crystal sighs and looks at the Battle Nug that is now snuffling into the ground.

“So now the only thing I actually own in this entire world is a giant pig-rabbit.”

“Seems like it,” Varric laughs.

“I’m not as ungrateful as I sound, I promise. Just...overwhelmed, I suppose. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do with a great big beast like that. I suppose a plus side is if we meet any bad guys on the road, he can just sit on them and save me from having to fight.”

Varric shakes his head with a grin and gestures for her to lead the way back to the center of the village where everyone was meeting up. They are both silent for a few moments before he clears his throat.

“You look nice, by the way.”

She blushed and really fucking wished any of the clothes here had pockets so she could shove her hands nervously in them like she wanted.

“Thanks. It’s a miracle what eating every day and using actual soap can do.”

Varric snorts before returning the acknowledging wave of the Herald once they were close enough.

The party is sitting outside of her hut, of all places. Giles winks at her cheekily as he settles into one of the stools he’d dragged over for them to use and proceeds to dominate the conversation, pelting everyone with questions. She knew it was mostly because he was just a talkative fellow, but also because he knew that she preferred to listen.

Talking to anyone, especially a big group of intimidating people like this, was incredibly hard for her. Back in her world, she was a certified medication-guzzling socially anxious mess with severe depression. Here in Thedas, she was simply known as shy, which amused her.

The village was already at work preparing the fresh rams that they had brought back, filling the air with the scent of roasting meat and the sounds of excited villagers. Crystal leans her back against her little hut and wills herself to relax, listening to the now familiar voices of everyone around her. Her fingers itched to sketch the little village, knowing it was her last night here among these people. She’d start with her own little hut, she muses, perhaps at dawn when the sun just begins to color the sky. Maybe one of the children as they sit in rapturous fascination whenever she tells them a story. She’d already drawn one for Thomas of his sweet daughter that he’d lost. He’d cried and thanked her with a fierce hug that brought tears to her own eyes.

“What do you think, Crystal?”

She straightened quickly as she was jolted out of her thoughts, glancing at Maxwell in confusion. She’d been so out of it, she hadn’t even realized Giles had gone to get them food.

“Pardon?”

“We were just discussing our travel plans. It took us a little over four days to get here from Haven, but that was also because we made minimal stops since most of us are used to travel. We were wondering if you would be fine with that or if we should think on factoring inn stops into our plans?” Maxwell explained with a kind smile.

“Oh, God, no. No need to do anything different for me. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It wouldn’t be a bother. Personally, I like to stay on the road as much as possible, because that’s less paperwork I’m forced to do.” Maxwell grinned as the others chuckled lightly.

“So...if you’re talking about taking me with you, everything went well?” she asked tentatively, still slightly afraid that her very appearance in Thedas might have changed even the small things.

“Oh, yes. Everything was just where you told us, even the ridiculous Druffalo. The caches of supplies are on their way as we speak. We closed all the rifts except for the one by the river you told us about. Set up very comfortable camps on all the marked spots. Took out the Templar and Mage hideouts. We were all very impressed. Obviously, we haven’t delved into your future knowledge that you say you have yet, but this was enough to know that at the very least you seem to be on our side for now.”

Crystal released a relieved breath, finally able to release weeks of tension. She’d be in the thick of things, but she’d also be surrounded by those that could protect her the most.

“Thank you.”

Maxwell nods, pausing as if to catch his thoughts before asking.

“You seem like...there’s something specific that you’re wanting protection from. That you believe we can protect you from, specifically. Are you...able to tell me what that is?”

She chews her lip in thought, trying to figure out what she should say.

“I’m not sure? Honestly, I don’t think I’m the smartest person, so I’m never quite sure my logic behind what I can and can’t share is sound. I’ll be happy to go over things more once we get to Haven, but I think I can at least tell you we should start stocking up on travel supplies and weapons. Haven doesn’t seem the sort of place that would withstand an attack, does it?”

They all looked mildly disturbed by that, but Maxwell nodded in thought. She was relieved no one asked her to go into detail, because she wasn’t sure how she would have been able to talk her way out of that. She was afraid if she told them too much, it would create so much change that she wouldn’t recognize the story anymore and be worthless.

Giles soon brought them bowls of roasted meat and vegetables, and they were all more than happy to change the talk to more pleasant things. Varric and Maxwell both were very nice about asking her questions and trying to draw her into the conversation. Cassandra acted like she wasn’t there most of the time. Crystal knew it was most likely because she still considered her a threat so she tried not to be too hurt by it. Solas seemed as content as her to merely listen to those around him. She was especially glad he paid her no mind.

“Excuse me, Miss Crystal?”

She turned towards the shy voice of one of her favorite kids in the village, Malcolm. He was like her little shadow most days, and was always quick to ask for a story or for her to teach him how to draw.

“Good evening, Mal. Did you need something, buddy?” She asked with a fond smile.

He shoved one of his hands practically in her face as he handed her what appeared to be a rock.

“I worked all day doin’ chores for Ma so I could give you this. It’s a heating rune. Cuz you’re gonna be traveling and hate the cold like me. You just press your finger here and it warms up, but it doesn’t hurt or nothin’. So you can keep your tent warm and it works in water too!”

“Wow, Mal! This is so nice. Thank you!”

She grins at the blushing boy and means every word. If this thing works like she thinks it should, she can look forward to toasty tents on the road. Damn she hated being cold, especially after these last few weeks with nothing but a thin blanket to warm her. She leans over and hugs him tightly.

“You’ll remember to keep up with your drawing, right? I expect you to send me a drawing every now and then so I can see your progress. I’ll send you some of whatever I see too, okay?”

“Kay!” Malcolm grins and runs back to his parents. She smiles at the little rune before tucking it into her pocket.

“You didn’t mention you had a suitor,” Varric smirks.

She snorts and plays along. “Oh yes, he’s lovely. He catches me frogs and only wets the bed twice a week. The catch of the ages, really.”

He huffs a little laugh before turning to the group.

“Did I ever tell you guys about the time Hawke bought a mine?”

Crystal grins and leans in to listen, even though it was yet another story that she already knew. The way that Varric told them always made them sound new, however. She could tell the parts he was embellishing heavily and tried to contain her commentary. She was amused by Maxwell’s gasps of surprise and Cassandra’s eye rolls when Varric tried to describe the dragons in terrifying detail. Mostly, she was just happy to be sitting here listening in person.

Varric was so expressive when he told a story. His hands waved enthusiastically, and his face showed every emotion. He timed everything perfectly to get the reactions he wanted, smirking slightly whenever someone was shocked or appropriately enthralled. She soon discovered that she’d been focusing so much on him that she’d missed most of the story, too entranced by the dwarf himself.

She needed to get over this fascination with him, and fast. That way lay heartbreak and pain, she was sure of it.

She yawned loudly, hoping the others would catch on. Thankfully, Maxwell must have been looking at her because he yawned too.

“I think we should all get some sleep. We have a long few days ahead of us,” he grunted as he stood up and stretched.

The others murmured their agreements, slowly getting up and putting the stools to the side.

Giles scratches his belly as he looks them over.

“We have a couple o’ empty huts that you lot can use. You’d have to squeeze in there, but it would probably be a nice break from tents at least.”

“I have one extra cot in mine as well, if it’s needed,” Crystal ventured quietly.

The party spoke amongst themselves and eventually it was decided that Solas and Maxwell would share one hut, Cassandra would take the other as she wanted to bathe in privacy. Of course, this left...

Varric’s smirk as she glanced at him in surprise was gone so fast she could almost believe she imagined it. Everyone wandered towards their assigned places for the night, leaving Varric to open the door for her.

“After you,” he said softly, standing to the side as she tried to get past him before he could see her blushing.

Maxwell ran up and threw Varric his pack of supplies before he could enter. He accepted them with a grunt of thanks and shut the door, bringing the wooden bar down to secure it.

Crystal was practically vibrating she was so nervous. Logically, she knew that nothing was going to happen and that the chances of him being genuinely into her beyond friendly flirting were zilch, but she couldn’t help the rush of anxiety she felt just being in a room alone with him.

“So, uh, the cots are over here. The one on the right is a little more sturdy since it belonged to the man who owned this place before. I’ll take the smaller one,” she winced as she heard how shaky her voice sounded. She hated that he probably thought she was some freak scared of her own shadow.

He nods and smiles gently, seeming to pick up on her nervousness.

“If you wanted to change into your night things, I promise I won’t look if you don’t. I must protect my virtue, after all,” he drawled. She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped over his stupid joke, letting him lighten the tension in the room a little.

She peeled off her slippers and tucked them away into her bag of supplies. She’d use the more sturdy boots she had for the journey. She snuck a quick peek at Varric, finding him turned all the way around facing the wall as he shucked his own clothes. She nibbled her lip nervously and quickly pulled the dress up and off, leaving the thin white chemise on to sleep in. Unable to help herself, she looked out of the corner of her eye towards the dwarf behind her.

He’d already torn off his shoes and shirt, leaving him barechested as he struggled with his belt. She inhaled lightly as she watched his back muscles rippling like some damn romance movie hero. She turned away just as quickly, knowing that with his skills he’d probably know if someone was watching him.

She cleared her throat and instead focused on finishing readying for bed. She went to the little table that she’d turned into a sort of vanity and poured water into a bowl for washing her face and a cup for brushing her teeth. She missed the convenience of running water and tubes of toothpaste, not to mention her creams. This place was drying the hell out of her skin.

When she was done, she poured everything out and cleaned up the area.

“There’s still plenty of water left if you need it,” she said softly.

“Yeah, thanks,” he rumbled, his voice close enough that she figured it was safe to look.

She wanted to groan out loud and barely stopped herself from doing so. He’d changed into some comfortable looking pants at least, but he’d left his chest bare. Judging by the look on his face, he knew damn well the effect he had on her and did it on purpose. She didn’t even like body hair, but she couldn’t stop staring at him. He’d even pulled his hair from its tie, letting flow freely. It wasn’t that long, just towards the middle of his neck, but it was still such an intimate thing to see, she thought.

He chuckled as she turned to busy herself, trying to keep her mind on other things besides half naked dwarves that were too handsome for their own good. She set her bags near the door for easy pickup in the morning and started the fire, knowing that the hut would be ice cold in a couple of hours if she didn’t.

Once it was blazing she stood with her back to it, letting it warm her before she tried to sleep with her one little blanket. The first thing she planned to do once she figured out how to get money here was going to be buying at least five blankets and the stuff to make proper pillows, not the blocks they used here.

She was swaying slightly with her eyes closed, listening to Varric humming and cleaning himself as she tried to relax enough to get to sleep quickly. She heard the splashing water stop and sounds of a towel being unfurled, then suddenly he growled.

Her eyes shot open and she stared wide-eyed as Varric’s face turned hard and tense with hunger. His hooded eyes traveled the length of her body, and when she looked down she realized, to her utter horror, that the chemise was so thin that standing in front of the fire had made it damn near see through. She could see everything, and if she could, so could he. She blushed wildly but rushed past him and jumped into her cot, covering herself with her threadbare blanket.

She could hear him breathing heavily, like he was trying to calm himself. A few moments later he walked over and pulled a blanket from his bag, settling into the cot that was so close to her own she could practically feel his body heat.

He turned on his right side as he got comfortable, facing her. In a surprising show of bravery, she turned towards him as well. They both lay in silence for a few moments, looking at each other with only the flickering light of the fire, studying and weighing each other.

She knew he was at least somewhat attracted to her, but she also knew he was probably fighting it because of his loyalty towards Bianca. Though she was sure he messed around at least somewhat, but never seriously and never with feelings. And Crystal, no matter how attracted to him she’d turned out to be, wasn’t the type to do anything casual. She grew attached too easily, was too needy for flings. She had a feeling he could probably tell and that’s why he was able to restrain himself.

She sighed curled up more into her little blanket, starting to feel a little more tired now that the heat was starting to fill the little hut. The only thing she needed now was Varric’s familiar voice rumbling through the sending crystal.

“Why did you let me listen?” she suddenly blurts.

Varric’s soft grin says he was expecting the question sooner or later.

“I thought it might help. Woman all alone in a strange place, about to travel with a bunch of scary warriors for almost a week. Figured it might help you get to know us a little and at least let you know we weren’t planning on chopping you to bits or feeding you to a dragon.”

“I was so very worried about the dragon too. Bless you, sir.”

He chuckles and sends her another little smile.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Crystal fights her blush and whispers, “Goodnight, Varric.”

She turned away and faced the wall as she willed herself to sleep, trying not to focus on every little sound he made. It was a very long night.

#dragon age #dragon age fanfic #fanfiction #dai #da2 #varric tethras #varric #varric fanfic #varric fanfiction #varric x oc #varricmancer

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scstoll · 6 years ago

Text

This is EMIGRATION live on RTE2!! #awaygame

I woke up. Everyone around me was still asleep.I pushed my head against the cold window. The minibus pushed on past Leixlip towards the M4 and the end of the world.

“Johnny Giles here, we´re live from the Airport Hopper where _________

___________ is just the latest transfer to attempt to search in some vague and sunny destination the antidote to the mild disappointment served in the overpriced glass of craft beer which we call Ireland.”

The Airport Hopper passed by three track-suited lads on a jaunting carriage, like the last of the Mohicans who hadn't noticed as the 21st century had apparated, Harry Potter style, around them.

I shuffled the left-over papers in the empty seat beside me. Irish Times columns, Indo rags, the Leinster Leader. My eyes settled on a lone op-ed from the Irish Times, the class of a thing which helps people pretend that they are still middle class. “You wouldn’t believe what Niamh did?´´ it proclaimed. Just like that I was back in every single conversation that anyone has ever had about them newspapers...I´d just sit there there falling asleep, like literally passing out on top of my scrambled eggs while _________ is still talking. It’s not that they´re boring, It’s just that we live too close to each other. So yes, I would believe whatever Niamh did, because in Irish logic I am practically her. All of that stuff wasn´t for me anymore; exotic O’Neills jerseys, useless Irish times columns (e.g. 10 reasons why I am both a) rich and b) deeply unfulfilled). I thought to myself; All that was for whoever comes back. I mean, who ever comes back?

Here disappointment is general, hope exceptional. I was my own favourite TV show. In the strange moonlight of the Airport Hopper you could watch yourself back in the Cinema Nostalgia but it seems better not to. I mean, It would always have sounded better to stick it out at home. At what point did we become so fucking worried about how our decisions sounded? How much of your life is an echo chamber and how much is just echo? Of course, taking a moral stand is for people with plus size bank accounts. I´d try and drown that one out once I was sat by the departures lounge as my phone refreshed endlessly and my pint grew less and less appetising. Christ, why'd we ever let it go so far?

“Eamonn Dunphy here, lets have a look at some classic highlights from the last year or so...”

A dozen pubs and three or four funerals and no weddings just yet. Eventually they all just became the same generic social event in which people drink for a while and then countdown to the next one. Slow down says the lads. And then sure there was surely no stopping us?

“ Johnny Giles here, I have to disagree with Eamonn there. I was under the impression that there had never really been any starting ´us´?

Well Johnny, I´d have to concur. We are all the same people. We are all the exact same people we were ten years ago. The world has up and gone without us and those with even an ounce of sense have gone to Vancouver but I'll still tell you to slow down because I haven't changed a bit and I don't actually remember what ambition is meant to feel like. All I feel is nausea.

In a way, you missed the lads even though they were at nothing. To be a bit happy by yourself wasn't as good as being a bit miserable with others. But I mean how long does it really take to get Maynooth to Dublin and back? About forty odd years.

And how exactly did I, a member of the most over-educated and over-prepared generation in recent Irish history end up in this small bus surrounded by part-time airport workers and cold American tourists, shivering my way towards Terminal 1?

Eamonn again, “I´d like to play another one here, it´s not a great highlight but it really gives us an insight into the build up..”

I remember being stood plonked by the Massive Mace outside Donabate, filling up on petrol and yet more coffee. Every cup was an an adventure, sickly sweet and unfulfilling. Eventually waving becomes the same thing as drowning. The interview hadn´t gone well from the time the principal had fallen asleep during my answer to her first question. The clearly senile second interviewer was still pure convinced I was a student and not a teacher. The principal had been rudely awakened by her own snores so she had to ask another question. She looked at me in a stern and slightly off-centre way, “Tell me, why do you think you should get one of the literally 7 jobs going this summer, please tell the truth?”

And I'd just sit there like an awkward Obi Wan Kenobi. Thinking to myself ´truth, now that's a name I've not heard in a long fucking time´.

As I began my reply she started checking her phone and by now the second interviewer was starting to nod off too. So I suppose I panicked. I´m still not sure how my by now cold cup of Frank&Honest made it from my hand to splashing both of them awake, but by God it did.

The coffee dripped down her face like a mask that had melted. I grabbed my coat and walked quietly out the door.

The principal stuttered in silence like an android that had malfunctioned.

The truth is that once you have too much skin in the game; you are the game.

“Oh well, that one was probably best left to the imagination” Says Eamonn Dunphy.

Thanks Eamonn, thanks for everything.

Still and all you could still find yourself victim to the nostalgia express approaching from the unlikeliest of angles. Come back to me Wexford town. Visions of it being sunny for an ages long stretch in the summer and tiny country shops through Baltinglass, Tinahiely and Carnew. Even Rathvilly not looking as scary in the July sun. Playing handball on Cullenstown beach and after going up through Enniscorthy to have pints in the sun outside the Stores because one day a year makes all the rest of them worth it.

“Johnny Giles here to pop that particular rhetorical bubble. Roll the tape”.

Visions of a lad lamping a boxer outside of the Stores in the November drizzle. People cleaning sick up off the walls on a Sunday. Lads sitting in empty pubs wearing wife-beaters like sad, violent Hardy Bucks cast-offs. Just Gorey in general.

Come back to me Wexford town. But not for the love of God, as you actually are.

By now the other passengers were beginning to wreck the mini mental RTE panel which is the moral arbitrator of all Irish men who are not quite thirty yet and not quite 21 anymore.

The Americans were complaining about the bus´s not so new plastic upholstery. A disaster is what they were calling it, and an international incident was in the works.

The chairs were just a bit cracked in the middle is what I reckon, but I didn´t get a chance to reckon out loud because an elderly and probably mentally ill women had been awoken.

She had no clue what was going on but she didn´t give two fucks. Approaching the conversation at an intersecting angle the women spoke.

“That's what happened to my marriage” she blurted out, content, she returned to cloud cuckoo land.

The sentence hung in the air like an unfinished simile. The bus stopped. I got out.

As I went by the arrivals lounge I watched the tourists return from Fuengirola, sunburnt and broke. The faraway grass has always got to be greener until you get there. I mean you never see lads in holiday Insta-stories with t-shirts saying ..“Well, this is not class”.

“As always a big thank you from myself and all the lads. See you next time on ´This is emigration, live on RTE2!”

I took the small suitcase; hurried into Terminal 1. On the plane I watched Netflix so that I wouldn’t be tempted to look back at the houses growing smaller and further away with each crippling second.

Anyway, líon na bearnaí for yourselves lads.

“A nation holds its breath...”

#awaygame

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darkus-hades · 7 years ago

Text

Wicked Witch

Want an evil MC? This MC is a super evil girl. Enjoy!

MC name: Denisse

(For some reason weird symbols appeared in this... I tries to edit as best as I can, but there’s always some that somehow managed to sneak past me. Tumblr, I guess... Please ignore those symbols! I’m so sorry! Thank You!)

__________

The moment Sid opened his eyes, he already had a bad feeling about this place. He moaned as he sat up. He remembered that Denisse gave him a drink, and once he drank it, he felt the taste was a little odd. He felt pain behind his head, and before he could call for help, he felt himself falling onto the floor, unable to move any part of his body. The last thing he saw was Denisse’s beautiful brown eye, turned to wicked, bright red, her brown hair turned to silver, and her beautiful smile turned to a smirk, appearing a set of fangs.

He swore to himself how that he had fallen to Denisse so quickly. Now he woke up in an unknown room, that he swore to God that no one had lived in this place for decades, except those unrest souls.

“Are you awake now, Mister?” An angelic voice nearly gave Sid a heart attack.

He quickly spun around, facing a beautiful woman, dressing nothing but white, that is nearly transparent. She looks so beautiful and innocent... like an angel.

He continued to stare at her, wanting to feel her soft skin, kissing her beautiful lips, and her delicate breasts...

_____________

”Master...” I heard a whimper, but I choose to ignore it. Then another whimper came, “Master, please...”

I sighed and put down the pawn chest piece onto the board. “Come out,” I commanded.

A young woman, with light blond hair and dark blue eyes, clad in white, stepped away from the dark opening and into the lowly lighted room.

”Ruby,” I smiled. “What is the problem?”

Ruby bit her lip and lowered her head. I raised my eyebrow, waiting for her response. After a few minutes, Ruby finally whispered,”May I, Master?”

I blinked, confused about what she was asking from me. Then I smiled, suddenly realizing of what she wants. “Oh, you want to gain some slaves, huh?”

Ruby slightly nodded, “Please, Master...”

I picked up a bishop and a rook and put them in place, “Go ahead, but-” I looked back at her. “I have to choose the person you’re taking as your slave.”

Ruby nodded and smiled slightly, “Thank you, Master.”

_____________

Albert wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword as he walked in the hallway. He has been walking in this mansion for hours and there was no sign of King Byron. King Byron was reported missed several weeks ago. When they gathered information, they learned that Byron was kidnapped and in this mansion.

Suddenly he heard a giggle, that nearly scared the life out of him. “Al, you look hilarious when you’re so serious like this.” Nico giggled.

Albert rolled his eyes. Why is this brat here?

This mansion is a maze. Albert thought to himself. Every door leads to a room that looks exactly like other rooms in the hallway.

“Hey, Al, do you think this is different?” Nico asked, pointing at the end of the hallway.

It different pattern at the end of the hallway. Delighted, he rushed to the end of the hallway, which is a door. He pushed the door open and peer inside. Then he gasped.

The room was filled with several more doors and a table in the middle. Nico looked around the room as Albert walked to the table, where a piece of paper was placed on the table, faced-down.

Picking up the paper, he scanned through the content.

Dearest Knights of Stein,

How honored that I have you in my mansion. I know so much about you. I know that you two are one of the right-hand men of King Byron. I also learned that you, Sir Albert, are a very close friend to King Byron. Sir Nico, I knew that you are half-brother with King Byron. Let me tell you more about me. I enjoy playing games. Especially games that can cause people to suffer, to give them fear.

So, you see around you that there is total of eight doors. Each door leads to a different hallway. Don’t bother to look into each door, the hallway is going to look exactly the same. Before you join my game, here are the rules. Once you enter one of the doors, there will be instructions. The rule is simple, you have to follow each instruction. If you dare you to disobey the instructions... Let’s just say that each time you disobey, the life of you dear King will be shortened, depending how much years I’m going to shorten.

Worry not about you King right now, Sir Albert. He is fine. For now. So, you better hurry, because I don’t think your King would last long.

Good Luck, because you will need it.

Alexander G. Johnson

Albert felt his blood drained from his face as he read the letter. As he raised his head from the letter, and look around the room, trying to decide which door to go. Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him. He swirled around and found nothing. Then he felt someone breathing against his shoulder. He tensed as he felt a ghostly whisper, that sounded like a young man, clear and scary.

“Go quick, Sir Albert. Your King is waiting,” It whispered.

Albert gulped before asking, “Who are you?”

Nico looked back at Albert, “What?”

“Who are you? What do you need from me?” Albert asked again.

“Al? Are you-” Nico started when he felt a cold breath on his ear. “Your King is waiting,” It whispered.

Suddenly, a door swung open, revealing a hallway, just like the other hallways that they been through. Nico hesitated before he walked through the door.

“Nico!” Albert shouted, “You can’t be sure that isn’t a trap!”

Nico continued, ignoring Albert’s warning. Albert sighed, there’s no other way. He has to save King Byron. Without hesitation, Albert walked through the opened door.

_____________

I pulled out a knight and put it into place, and frowned. I felt something or someone behind me. Then my face lit up. Perfect.

I grabbed a pawn and set it down. “Alexander”. I breathed.

”Master...”I felt something like a hand on my shoulder. Then I felt another one around my waist. I rolled my eyes.

“You haven’t changed, have you, huh?” I stood up and walked across the ghostly figure.

Alexander chucked as he revealed himself. “Well, Master, you haven’t changed much either. Still smart as usual. And beautiful, like the beautiful full moon.”

I scowled, “Don’t ever compare me to that damn moon, you hear me.”

Alexander smiled, “My apologies, Master. But you have to admit, the moon is beautiful. Especially when it’s full.”

"Besides,” Alexander continued. “As your servant, part of my job is to compliment you, don’t you think?”

I grimaced, “Whatever. Just don’t compare me to that moon. Ever again.”

Alexander shrugged, “Whatever you say, Master.” Then he frowned. “You called me, for a reason, perhaps?” Alexander smiled, wider this time.

I rolled my eyes, “Yes, I did call you. But not what you’re thinking”

Alexander put a hand over his chest and pretended to look hurt, as I continued. “I want you to find those knights of Stein. I want you to capture him. Do whatever you want with them, but I want them alive. And in one piece.”

Alexander face lit up, “I can do whatever I want. That sounds great. I’ll do that.”

_____________

Cursing to himself, Giles walked along the spiral staircase. After he found out that the Princess had escaped the castle ground, he and group of knights, including Alyn are trying to track down the Princess. The information they found out was in this mansion, the same day, King Byron got kidnapped.

“Oi, Giles,” Alyn called from further down the stairs. “Mind if you got a bit faster? We’ll be stuck here forever if you continue to walk like that.”

“Stop pushing Giles,” Leo, standing next to Alyn, acknowledged. “He already knows-” Leo quickly shut his mouth after Alyn glared at him as if Alyn is going to strangle him.

Giles sighed. These two never change. Suddenly, he heard a slight whimper that sounds like from further down the stairs. Both Alyn and Giles got very quiet. Then Alyn break the silence, “Princess? Is that you?”

Then they heard another whimper, almost like an answer to Alyn’s question. Without hesitation, Alyn sprint down the stair, followed by several knights.

“Hey, Alyn!” Leo shouted as he chased after him. “Slow down! You’re going to trip and fell if you’re running like that!

Giles didn’t even bother to go downstairs. He felt like something was off. The whimper sounded more like an animal.

“Aren’t you going to go with him, “Giles heard a faint voice behind him. Giles tensed. He felt a shiver down his spine.

Giles slowly turned around. A young woman, with dark, wavy hair. Her skins are rich dark color. She looks like a goddess. Wearing nothing but black, from head to toe. Her eyes were covered from her bangs.

Giles gulped, “W-who are you?”

The young women pointed behind him. Giles turned around, finding nothing, and turned back to the young women, who was not there anymore.

“Come,”Giles heard the voice that belong to the young women, but instead down a little further down the stairs.

Giles blinked. He swore to god that she was behind him, now she’s somehow managed to pass him without him knowing.

“Who are you?” Giles asked in determination.

The women looked back at him, showing slight of her eyes, which is violet. “It doesn’t matter. This place is the last thing you’ll see.”

Giles gulped and stepped backward, until he bumped into something.

“It’s impolite to leave someone, especially if that person is a woman,” The young women whispered. “Follow me, and I’ll make sure you’ll live longer. But, this place is still going to be the last thing you’ll see.”

_____________

“Danielle,” I walked into my chamber.

Suddenly, a presence appeared not to far from me. “Master.”

I smiled, “I would like to change your job. And I want to make a deal with you.”

Danielle tensed up, as her hands clutched as a fists.. I smiled wider. Danae was my maid, and I know she doesn’t like to be a maid, especially working for me. I knew she would turn against me if she had a chance.

“Anything you ask, Master.”

I walked toward her as she tensed up. “If you do what I commanded, I’ll set you free. “Danae looked at me in surprise. “I want you to kill that Chamberlain. Make him suffer. Make him regret.” I grabbed her neck. “Make him regret that he dares to make me the princess. Make him regret to dare to command me to do what he wants me to do.” I snared.

Danielle whimpered as she gasped for air. Her eyes begged me to let her go.

“If you dare to betray me,” I warned. “I’ll kill you.”

I let go of her and walked out of my chamber and pulled a pawn out of my pocket and a bishop. I smiled. Now this is definitely something.

_____________

“Giles? Leo?” Alyn called. His voice echoed through the spiral staircase. After he heard a whimper on the bottom of the stair, he ran downstairs, only finding a dog, sitting at the corner, whimpering.

Alyn felt sudden furious toward the dog, tricking him into thinking it was the Princess. Instead of going back upstairs, he decide to wait for Giles and Leo. After a while, there was no sign of them.

Annoyed, Alyn called for Giles and his brother several time, but only answered by silence. Getting worried, he decide to go backstairs to find them.

Suddenly, the stairs vanished. “What the-!” Exclaimed Alyn. Instead of the stairs, it’s a hallway. The light only shown some part of the hallway, but Alyn couldn’t figure out how long is the hallway, since its so dark to see.

Out of nowhere, he saw two faint lights in the distance, which Alyn recognized it as eyes. Unsheathing his sword, he asked, “Who are you?”

The eyes seems to be moving toward him. Coming toward the light. Then, more eyes following behind the first pairs of eyes. Instead of a pair of eyes, it became thousand pairs of eyes.

As the owner of the eyes came into view, Alyn felt his blood drained from his face. The eyes belongs to tens of hundred of corpses. All of them groaned and moaned, limping toward Alyn.

On the back of his head, it screams to him to run, but his legs won’t corporate.

Suddenly, he heard something clicking, like a clock being turned on. Then a giant metal gate came down, separating Alyn and the corpses.

“Alyn, next time use your brain,” Alyn immediate recognize the voice belong to Leo’s.

Alyn scowled as Leo chucked.

I picked up the knight then when I’m about to place it where I want it to be, the board suddenly vanished. I blinked, then smiled. He’s here.

I called for James couple days ago to help me to get rid of someone. That knight Captain of Wysteria. I don’t really hate Alyn, but I just don’t want him alive, for no particular reason.

“My, my. Still beautiful as ever,” the voice whispered behind my ear.

Without hesitation, I grabbed his jaw as I slowly faced him. “I’m not going to joke around.”

“Of course, we can joke another time,” he winked.

I gripped his jaw hard, until he winced. “I’m going to make it simple,” I hissed. “Kill Sir Alyn, and I’ll pay you whatever you want.”

James opened his mouth to say something, but I immediately cut him off. “I’m not arguing or listening to your opinion, or whatever the bullshit you’re going to say. Kill him, then we can talk.”

I let go of his jaw and walked off without looking back.

“Why is she always like that,”I heard him talking to himself. Then he said, in a louder voice, “Hey, you still want you chess board?”

I stopped on my track, then looked back at him. “Definitely.”

_____________

Robert heard someone singing, but he could’t make out what it was singing. But the singer had such a beautiful music. He wanted to hear it everyday. Suddenly, the singer stopped singing, which caused Robert to opened his eyes. Why did she stop?

“Are you awake?” the singer asked. Even when she isn’t singing, her voice is very beautiful too.

Robert sat up, and looked at the singer. It was a women. A beautiful women. Both her voice and her appearance is beautiful... Robert could only see the head and the shoulder of the women. Robert stood up and walked toward the women, finding that she was in a pool.

Without warning, he heard a groan behind him. He turned around, only to find a man clad in black.

“King Byron?” Robert walked toward the man, then he gasped.

The King of Stein, that was kidnapped was now laying in front of him.

“King Byron!” Robert gathered the young king in his arm. Then he looked at the women. “What happened to him?” Robert demanded.

The women shrugged, “I don’t know, but he will be fine. I’m sure.”

Robert looked back at Byron, and gently shook him. “King Byron! Please open your eyes!” Robert plead.

Suddenly, the door creaked opened, and Robert hold his breath as he looked at the person who just walked in.

It was Rayvis, The archduke. Following him was Louis.

What is going on here? Robert wondered.

#midnight cinderella #byron wagner #nico meier #albert burckhardt #louis howard #rayvis harneit #robert branche #sid #giles christophe #alyn crawford #leo crawford #fanfiction #diaferiadhades

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oh-my-otome · 7 years ago

Note

Did someone say amusement parks LET. BYRON. ON. THE. SPINNING. TEACUPS.

“We’re going on that one, next!” Nico shouted up at me, as he stopped in his tracks.

Giles, who had been walking directly behind him, seemed to not notice this, and as he went to take a large bite from his cotton candy, he connected with Nico’s back, getting a face full of it instead.

While the princess laughed, I could almost hear the indignant anger crackling off of Albert, who looked very much as if he’d like nothing more than to slap the back of Nico’s head.

I looked over at the ride that had my brother so excited, but saw nothing except for ostentatious cups and saucers, ridiculously life-sized, and nary a person on the line.

They sure do have some of everything in Wysteria, don’t they?

But…

‘I’m…not so good with spinning rides…’

I felt someone grab my sleeve, and I turned to look, expecting to see the princess, but it was Nico who had latched onto my arm.

‘No, no!’

He looked up at me, pleadingly.

‘Nico, don’t you dare!’

His grip tightened and his eyes took on a wide, doe-like expression.

‘Resist, Byron!’

A sad-sounding huff of air escaped his lips, as the corners of his mouth dropped into a pout.

‘You’re strong, Byron! For once, you can do it!’

“Pleeeeease?”

I could feel the judging gaze of Albert bouncing off the side of my face, as he watched me crumple underneath Nico’s performance for the umpteenth time.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Giles had paused in the middle of wiping crusted bits of cotton candy from his face, to stare at us in wonder. Over it all was the tinkling laughter of the princess, who followed us as we walked onto the ride.

Running ahead of me, Nico used both hands to leap over the edge of the nearest cup, seating himself with the princess.

Albert held the door to my cup open for me, and I hesitated, fully expecting it to be up to the brim with actual tea.

One could never be too sure, when it came to Wysterian customs.

Giles sat by himself, not paying any mind to anyone at all, picking away at his confection.

As the ride started up, the princess called over to me, her hands framing her mouth, “Spin it! You guys are supposed to turn the wheel!”

“But there isn’t any–”

Oh!

So the round disc jutting up from the floor isn’t a table? Albert had even set his glasses down upon it!

Saying nothing, Albert and I glanced at each other with a mutual expression conveying “goddammit!,” and I nodded at the wheel-not-table at the same time that he leaned over to grasp it.

“You guys are so slow!” screamed the princess, as she spun by.

“Whoever spins the fastest, wins!” Nico called after her, his hands turning the wheel furiously.

Giles passed by after them, his cup completely stationary, as he peeled off another bit of cotton candy and ate it in small bites, looking pleased as punch.

The princess and Nico whizzed by again, the sound of their laughter growing louder with each rotation.

“We have to beat him!”

“Oh, Your Majesty, I’d love t–”

“You know exactly what I mean!”

Albert threw himself into the task, turning faster than before, and I crossed my arms in triumph as I looked over to check my brother’s speed.

Their cup twirled by faster than ever, Nico a pink and brown blur, the princess laughing as she leaned back, holding onto the sides.

Giles’ cup, still not spinning, caught my eye for a brief second.

I saw him wipe his mouth daintily with a pocket square, before I had to look away. Just trying to focus on him somehow made me feel dizzy, even though he wasn’t moving.

Just as I slammed my hands down on the wheel, to help Albert spin, the ride came to an end, each moving cup shuddering to a stop.

Albert made an effort to lean against the edge of our cup, but only managed to slump heavily to the side, before falling on the seat, panting with exhaustion.

Looking over at the princess and Nico, I could just make out their shaky posture, as the princess rested her elbows on the wheel-table, and put her face in her hands.

Nico was flopped from the waist over the side of their cup, groaning every so often.

Feeling as if my eyes were swirling, I shut them against the nausea, trying to acclimate to knowing that I was still, but feeling like I was spinning.

I could hear the click-clack of Giles’ dress shoes as he walked over to our cups and stood between them.

“First one to stand up, without falling, wins?”

#q&a #midnight cinderella #short story #byron wagner #nico meier #albert burckhardt #giles christophe

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astoracademyrp · 5 years ago

Photo

As requested, under the readmore you’ll find a sample application. This sample was written almost two years ago, and was intended to be for the Tempestuous (then Tempest). We just want to put a disclaimer, saying that how I interpreted the skeleton should not influence any possible applicant’s idea of her at all. This will simply serve as a guide for you as you write your application. If you have any more inquiries, please feel free to shoot us a message!

Out-of-character Information

Name: Lou

Preferred Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 24

Timezone: GMT+8

Role Play Experience: 9 years now, I think. I’ve been role playing on Tumblr since I was fifteen.

Triggers: Abuse, sexual violence

Activity Level: 7-9. I work from home for 12 hours every day.

In-Character Information

Skeleton Title: The Tempest

Name: Lacey Forrest

Age: 19

Major: Business Communications

Year Level: Second Year

House: Hannibal

Desired Face: Courtney Eaton

Interpretation of the character based on the information given on the skeletons:

Lacey Forrest has always been accustomed to the advantages that came with being her father’s daughter. In fact, you could say she enjoyed it, and, more often than not, has taken advantage of it. She’s spoiled, definitely, and hates when things don’t go her way. She’s determined, and is willing to do whatever it takes to get what she wants. She’s manipulative and self-serving, and she constantly uses her ambition as an excuse for the things she does sometimes-- claiming they were necessary for her success.

She’s a bit of a paradox, although others would disagree and simply call her a hypocrite. See, she’s abrasive, but also temperamental. She is self-righteous and cannot admit when she is at fault, but will be the first to point out other people’s mistakes. She’s quick to judge, and takes mental notes of their weaknesses so they can be added as weapons to her arsenal if needed, and strengths to see if they could be of use to her. Relationships are like business transactions to her; if she doesn’t see a need for you anymore, she’ll cast you aside like yesterday’s pie. But there are some exceptions, like her two younger siblings, and a handful of people she considers friends. To them, she’s loyal to a fault, and immensely protective.

History (give your chosen character a brief background):

Lacey Evangeline Forrest was born to a business man and a lawyer. Eldest of three, she spent seven years being the only apple of her parents’ eyes-- though mostly her father’s-- and it was evident the young girl liked being doted on; liked being the centre of attention. She spent most of her childhood in her family’s vineyard, days filled with lesson after lesson after lesson, all thanks to the schedule carefully and purposefully curated by her mother. Whilst her father worked in the city, her mother had always wanted to raise their children away from its hustle and bustle, and Lacey couldn’t complain. Not that she wanted to. Lacey loved her childhood home, and she wouldn’t trade for anything the seldom afternoons she was allowed to play.

She was home-schooled for the entirety of her elementary education, and it was only when she entered high school that she was sent to the city to study in the preparatory school her mother went to. There was no question that she did well in academics. After all, her mother hired only the best scholars to make sure her children get the best education. And it surely paid off. Lacey, just like her siblings, were A+ students. Lacey was a naturally competitive person, and she shone especially in the debate team. It didn’t take long for her to become captain of her school’s team, and she helped her peers bring home one trophy after another. She thrived in that kind of competitive environment, and while there was some who thought that competition was no longer healthy for her, she didn’t care.

Her mother thought Lacey had the makings of becoming a great lawyer. She was a good researcher, was logical, and articulate. She never missed any of her eldest debate meets, and Lacey could see that her mother hoped she would make the same choice she did one day. But Lacey had other plans. Being in the city, she’d been immersed in the world her father lived in, and to say that she was interested would be an understatement. While she thought her mother’s career was cutthroat and great in its own way, she found her passion was in business. She was fascinated by the mechanics of it all, and loved even more how competitive it was. Her father was the happiest when she announced her decision, and even more so when she informed them that she would be attending his alma mater.

Would you like your character to be a member of The Arsonists? If yes, why would you like them to join?:

Yes, and no. Yes because I think the Ringleader would actually appreciate having her type of determination. She’s crafty, and she knows how to get people to do what she wants them to, even when they don’t want to. She could be useful to the group, and Lacey would even enjoy causing the kind of ruckus that the Arsonists cause. However, she may be a little too self-serving to even be considered. She’s selfish and does only what’ll be beneficial to her, so that could be a problem. And if there was someone in the group that she didn’t particularly like, well, she may not feel that she has to be as loyal to the group as the Ringleader wants them to be.

Sample Para (this does not have to be in-character but it is definitely preferred):

The Department of Business office was abuzz with activity that particularly afternoon and, in the middle of it all, seated behind the information counter, chin propped against the palm of her hand that wasn’t focused on the stack of papers, was Lacey Forrest. Long perfectly-manicured nails caressed the edges of the freshly printed syllabi, she watched in equal parts amusement and curiosity as the professors and teaching aides scurried about, all excited for the arrival of a celebrity speaker for tonight’s seminar. Lacey would attend, of course. It wasn’t mandatory, but seminars never need be mandatory for the brunette to make an appearance. She loved things like that; listening to someone, especially a woman in Business, talk about the field, share their experiences. And, naturally, in true Lacey Forrest fashion, she’d done her research and prepared about ten articulately crafted questions to ask during the forum. Others thought she showed off during forums, and they would be correct.

“Miss Forrest,” Anita, the actual secretary of the dean of the department, approached the counter. She was in the floral skirt that Lacey thought made her look older than she really was, and a few inches shorter, too. “Thank you for the syllabi print-outs. Now, you can go. As you can see, we’re very busy.” If her words didn’t already indicate that Lacey wasn’t welcome to watch the flurry of activity in the office, her tone certainly did. She was always short with Lacey, and the girl had absolutely no idea why. She could only assume that her poor fashion sense was a reflection of her poor manners.

“Anita, you’re very welcome!” the brunette almost smirked when she saw the older woman flinch at the sound of her first name, and how casually Lacey addressed her using it. “It’s no trouble! No trouble at all. Oh come on now, I’m just as excited as you are, probably even more.” A saccharine smile stretched the sides of her lips. “And it’s not like I’m in anyone’s way. I’ve proven myself helpful over the past week, if I say so myself. All I’m asking now is you let me stay here and help out.” To anyone who didn’t know her well enough, they would have thought Lacey Forrest was being genuine. Because it was true; she had proven herself useful. She didn’t have to be at the department office, and yet, she appeared every day for the past week, without fail. She’d volunteered her services, much to Anita Giles’s surprise, and had completed every menial task she’d assigned to her, without complain. But, of course, Lacey wasn’t there to simply help out. Just like most things she did, she was there for a purpose; that being the summer internship with tonight’s speaker that she’d first heard Professor Edgecombe speak about in the parking lot a couple of weeks back. There was no way she was gonna let anyone else get the opportunity.

The secretary’s brows furrowed in disapproval, and she just about grabbed the papers from Lacey’s hands. Lacey Forrest’s smile almost faltered. Almost, but not quite. “Miss Forrest, you have to go.” Her lips were pressed in a line, and Lacey thought about how much she looked like that one character from that movie she hated. “You really have to go, Lacey, otherwise, I’m gonna have to call security. We don’t have to make that big of a fuss, don’t you think?”

God, Lacey thought. She did not want to have to play this card, but desperate times and all that. Her shoulders dropped and a sigh escaped her blood-stained lips, as if the next words to come out of her mouth caused her pain, when in fact, they did the opposite. “I really didn’t want to have to do this, you know. But you leave me no choice.” The girl leaned on her elbows and moved closer to the older lady, lips close to the woman’s ear so she could hear her speak. She’d never been above blackmailing anyone for personal gain. This wasn’t the first time, and it sure wouldn’t be the last. In a hushed tone, Lacey Forrest spoke once again. “I know, you know. About you and Dean Hamilton.” The look on the secretary’s face was just as she expected. Lacey had to stop herself from grinning in satisfaction, pleased that she was able to elicit her wanted response.

She straightened her back and looked at the other lady with furrowed brows, as if she was deeply burdened with the knowledge of their secret affair. She wasn’t. Lacey was goddamned glad she caught the two of them in his office, two afternoons ago. “Really, Anita,it’s no bother to me to be here at all.” And, with a gentle tap on the older lady’s hand, Lacey took the syllabi again and placed them on the countertop, assuming her position before she was rudely interrupted. She flashed another sickeningly sweet smile at the secretary before the older lady, still in shock, abruptly turned away and left the office.

Changes you’d like to suggest: None!

Extras: (here you may include playlists, moodboards, edits, etc.)

#note.#info.

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allowed2bloud · 7 years ago

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A reaction post to this piece of trash 1. You felt great bc you just drank a junkie 2. The voice over is pissing me off, almost as much as pink haired girl fake southern accent 3.johnathan Davis should be ashamed his voice is coming out of that douchecanoe 4. He really looks like kiera knightly 5. His fake pale skin looks worse than Rosalie from twlight 6. The costume designer had to be about 15 and had an unhealthy obsession with hot topic, and had never been to a rock concert before 7. Why is it dawn and he's outside? 8. Hello. They are witches... didn't the screenwriters read the books??? 9. This David should be older.. like who cast this 10. The fucking voice over again.. I seriously hate Townsend voice 11. Again who the fuck cast these people.. 12. Ok I know I read this book when I was like 14.. so like 22 years ago, but I remember lestats creation story happening way differently... 13. Why does living lestat look like a drunk Joaquin Phoenix playing johnny cash.. 14. And why the hell is his fangs ALWAYS out... 15. Oh look.. let's take something that was a key plot point in why lestats so fucked up... except the violin player isn't a female.. uggg. Read the book 16. Oh wait... lestat doesn't play the violin... that would have been his lover 17. Why can't we stick with one color pallet for dead lestats skin? 18. Bc hiding the switch to the secret room in the wall under a trunk isn't obvious at all 19. And obviously who ever cast Townsend didn't remember that lestats is french... that accent is not French 20. I honestly think lestat has on more eyeshadow than I do 21. Awkward bdsm scene where murius says we have the same mother. 22. And murius gets jealous bc mommy didn't pick him 23. Why does Townsend accent keep changing? 24. That time Jessie was all of us, falling in love with a fictional character 25. Wtf why does Jessie get her own voice over 26. Given the sound track, why are we playing the song from ghostbusters.. 27. And then lestat looks like the genie head from pee wees playhouses 28. Well now we know where twilight stole that weird fast movement effect.. And why do vampires moving sound like snake rattles and skidding noises 29. Blending... omg his,face isn't the same shade as his neck... or his hands... 30. Again, 22 years later.. I'm pretty sure he couldn't fly until after he wakes akasha 31. And still not some gypsys violin. 32. Why is he listening to his own music? I mean yea he's a narassistic bastard 33. Why are they whispering... no one else is there. I'm seriously over changing the volume to watch this.. I'm having flash backs to 94 when I snuck out of bed to watch interview with the vampire in the middle of the night 34. His eye bruising is really bugging me.. like put some cucumbers on your eyes man. Maurius is older.. And his designer bags arent near as heavy 35. Why do the vampires all look like 90s euro trash? I mean yea they are in London so they are technically euro trash.. but it's like really bad euro trash 36. Akasha has eye teeth fangs... no one else does... why???? 37. Seriously forgot how much I love this album.. I should have just skipped this train wreck and listened to this cd.. 38. Not gonna lie kind wish i could set people on fire with the flick of my wrist.. 39. Oh johnathan Davis... you are a horrible scalper, nice cameo though, I mean it's the least they could do 40. Why do all these groupies keep volunteering to be killed.. And what happened to that girls face 41. A London goth... aka Jessie looks like a 13 year old MySpace scene girl trying to do her eye liner 42. Who the hell was the mua.. Seriously pick a foundation 43. Again.. lestat is not super man... he can't fly like that 44. Omg omg omg.. I just realized Townsend was the basis for Kristen Stewart's Bella swan.. emotionless and moody 45. Only thing the make up ppl can do continuously is make sure Jessie scratch is still there. 46. ANd seriously, disturbed would never settle for opening for this douchebag.. 47. So much manic panic 48. Townsend is not good at lip synching. Didn't he just spend a whole night listening to his own songs in his coffin? 49. Why do all the other vampires have cavemen foreheads? 50. Like were the speed movement effects done by the same people that did the matrix? 51. Hey akasha that's some pretty spiffy high school drama club stage entrance you got there. 52. Why does she sound like she's talking into a fan? 53. I know that akasha is Egyptian... but she's been a statue with out blood for how long? She really shouldn't be that tan. 54. Oh wait.. it's that one deftones song that is on everyone's bdsm dungeon play list... I loath that about this song 55. Can we please read a book.. in tale of the body thief lestats becomes human and has sex for the first time in hundreds of years... vampires don't have sex.. they are basically like the angels in dogma 56. Hey Jessie took the voice over microphone back.. 57. Why does maharets eyes glow.. she's a fucking witch... uggggg 58. Fire the make up artist... day walker lestat should not be that pink 59. Kingdom of corpses would be a great band name 60. Oh wait did lestat just realize the crazy vampire bitch is crazy and that's why she's been a statue for all these years... 61. I forget.. is that blonde baby faced thing supposed to be louis.. Bc no.. 62. Again.. 22 years ago.. is one of these chicks supposed to be Pandora or lestats mom.. is one of the guys supposed to be Armand... what was the point of having random vamps in the movie and never naming them. And if that grey haired guy or the blonde one are Armand or louis seriously read a fucking book 63. Everyone else gets bit on the neck.. Jessie why you trying to be sexy letting him bit your breasts.. 64. Townsends face looks like bad cgi. Like his eyes are black holes 65. Where the hell is maharets twin sister.. 66. Akasha has some serious ab muscles to be holding that arched back pose for so long damn girl. 67. Can we remake this and let Giles from Buffy be david.. 68. Yes bc when you become a vampire you automatically get bruises around your eyes... Seriously Jessie looks like she rubbed her eyes and forgot she had on make up 69. Maurius just seems like that creepy pedo dude.. 70. Oh and then the ending scene is totally stolen from that spice girls music video. Seriously I'm going to have to get my books and re read them all.. Bc I don't know why I wasted an hour on that piece of shit. 15 years clearly wasn't long enough.

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theparaminds · 6 years ago

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Eventual adulthood becomes a growing fear for most with each passing day. The uncertainty of the future mixed with the attempt to find a purpose often leave most confused. Yet, J.W. Francis has begun to find the cure to this problem, with his solution being friendship and honesty.

His music is a warm hug on a bad day, a friend there to cheer you up when needed. The laid back qualities of his tones and rhythms give way to honest emotion that resonates with audiences aplenty. His sound is that of serenity, that of hope, and that of community.

As he grows both personally and career wise, J.W. Francis has set his sights for the highest possibilities and the far reaching goals many would dare accomplish. Within this pursuit, he has continually defined himself through sound, creating a sonic personality. Only time will tell whether that definition will remain, or if it is to remediate once again.

Our First question as always, how’s your day going and how are you?

My day is going splendidly. It’s raining and I love the rain. It makes me feel very calm like I’m wearing socks on a carpeted floor. Overall, the past few months have been a dream. I’ve had the opportunity to share moments with so many different people and for that I am very grateful.

What would you say is your best childhood memory?

My mom organized a space-themed scavenger hunt birthday party for my 4th birthday, and I don’t remember anything about it except that it was the most fun I’ve ever had in my life. It inspired me to create my own scavenger hunt parties for friends in college later on, and it’s something I still do to this day.

To go a little further, where did you first find yourself getting into music and who around you was influencing you onto that path?

My parents used to play this game when I was a kid which was “is this Pavement or Stephen Malkmus’ solo career?” My parents were/are very cool and burn me CDs of everything they were listening to, especially my dad.

As well, which artists inspired your passions and pushed you forth and which do so currently?

Oh boy, so many. Most inspiring to me were the people around me like my parents, grandparents (I love you mama and grandma judy!), teachers, friends. None of those people made music but they were really nice to me and inspired me to be nice to others, and to be be curious, and to do what whatever makes me happy - which just so happens to be music in this moment.

For music, a list of people I was in love with growing up would include: Ben Kweller, Kimya Dawson, Julian Casablancas, Kim Gordon, Bradford Cox, Al Green, Ryan Adam, Francis Black and Jenny Lewis .

Today I find myself most inspired by: Jean Sebastian Audet, Steve Lacy, Chris Cohen, Elsa Maxwell, John Berryman, Courtney Barnett, Charlotte Dos Santos and Melanie Faye.

How have you found your musical vision to develop over your tenure in music and what where have those changes come from?

Well, to be fair, I’ve really just started. But I guess I suppose I’ve gotten a bit more serious. I used to go by the name Nico West and I only sang songs about fruit. Now I go by JW Francis and I sing songs about love. I try to constantly reevaluate what’s important to me so any changes in my music path will stem from that - right now what’s important to me is connecting with other people. When I was singing about fruit it was a joke, which is a great way to connect, but some people might not think it’s funny. Everyone loves - so I hope people can connect with these new songs I’m writing.

Do you find your location in New York to be a part of your artistry and if so, what are your favourite aspects of the environment?

I’m a sponge. I love going to a new place and soaking in the energy and meeting lots of people and then writing about my feelings, so definitely New York is a part of my music because everything I’ve written as JW Francis so far has been from my own perspective in New York.

Just like any city, the best part about New York is the people that inhabit it. I’ve never met so many motivated people. It’s very moving.

Sonically, where do you hope to see your music continue to grow within the next projects and ideas?

Sonically I’ll probably try to get very complex and layered, and then after that I’ll get very stripped down, and then I’ll probably go somewhere in the middle after that.

As well, you released an interesting EP this year, what was the ideology behind that set of songs, as well as the videos accompanying it?

I feel very grateful to be living the life I’m living, and I felt an urgent need to share that feeling with others in a very specific way that I could hear in my head. I wanted the videos to express that gratitude for my friends and for New York.

What differences output wise can expect from you this coming year and what plans do you have?

Excellent question. I have many, many plans for the coming year and I would like to tell you all of them, but please don’t hold me accountable for them if they don’t happen. I’m currently working on 2EPs at the same time. I’d like to come out with 3 more next year before doing a full-length in 2020.

In February, Sunspeaker and I will probably do a tour of the North East and I’ll drop a single for EP2 which will probably be out in March. I’m bored with how music typically gets released these days - it’s very anticlimactic. So for my next EP I’m working on designing an ‘immersive experience’ in New York that should be ready by March.

In April-May I’ll release another single, this one for EP3, which might come out in the summer.

In August I’m going to do something crazy on the west coast. 5 cities, 5 JW shows, 5 different bands, 5 murder mysteries. To give you little bit of background, I throw murder mystery parties with my good friend Drew Johnson as a part of a little collective called J33. I can’t afford to transport my whole band around the west coast so I’d like to find drummers, guitarists, and bassists in LA, San Fran, San Jose, Seattle, and Portland rehearse with them the night before, play a show the next day, and then invite them to a murder mystery party the following day.

There are more plans for the rest of the year but I don’t want to give it all away :)

Do you have any new year's resolutions? Inside or outside of music, either or.

My New Year’s resolution is to be a better friend. I haven’t been to ONE of Joe Fusco’s hockey games, which I’m really sorry about.

If you could score one film you’ve seen, which would it be and why?

Oh boy. I love movies. I would love to score a film I haven’t seen because all the films I can remember that I have seen have great soundtracks (I forget the bad ones). If I had to choose, probably Slacker because I think I could nail it.

What is the greatest lesson you wish you learned earlier in your journey?

Please always say “Don’t care about what other people think” and I always disregarded that as bad advice because I care about what my parents and my friends and my teachers and the people I respect - I care about what they think of me. I even care, to an extent, what strangers think of me. I want them to like me! I think it’s a Mid-Western thing, I can’t really help it.

But what I learned by getting on stage and putting myself out there is that you should really on care what people who care about YOU think of you - and the people who really care about you want you to be happy and they want you to love and be loved. So, I really only care about what those people think of me and I’m much better off for it.

Do you have anyone to shout out or promote? The floor is all yours!

Let’s see, I’m going to give you a list of everyone I’ve had the honour of sharing a bill with in the past 2 months because it truly has been an honour to share a stage with them, in no particular order:

Sunspeaker

Winded

Manic Talk

Lust and the Black Cat

Henry Flwr

Eyedress

Caleb Giles

Dead Tooth

Cindy Cane

Glass Orange

Woolbright

Cherokee Rose

Tesha

Goodfight

Curt Castle

Rose Hotel

Caravela

Oceanic

Lady HD

Night Bloom

Glasteroid

Achy

We Never

Petty War Club

True Blue

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Listen on Spotify

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ukdamo · 6 years ago

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A Child’s Christmas in Wales

Dylan Thomas

One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.

All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find. In goes my hand into that wool-white bell-tongued ball of holidays resting at the rim of the carol-singing sea, and out come Mrs. Prothero and the firemen.

It was on the afternoon of the Christmas Eve, and I was in Mrs. Prothero's garden, waiting for cats, with her son Jim. It was snowing. It was always snowing at Christmas. December, in my memory, is white as Lapland, though there were no reindeers. But there were cats. Patient, cold and callous, our hands wrapped in socks, we waited to snowball the cats. Sleek and long as jaguars and horrible-whiskered, spitting and snarling, they would slink and sidle over the white back-garden walls, and the lynx-eyed hunters, Jim and I, fur-capped and moccasined trappers from Hudson Bay, off Mumbles Road, would hurl our deadly snowballs at the green of their eyes. The wise cats never appeared.

We were so still, Eskimo-footed arctic marksmen in the muffling silence of the eternal snows - eternal, ever since Wednesday - that we never heard Mrs. Prothero's first cry from her igloo at the bottom of the garden. Or, if we heard it at all, it was, to us, like the far-off challenge of our enemy and prey, the neighbor's polar cat. But soon the voice grew louder. "Fire!" cried Mrs. Prothero, and she beat the dinner-gong.

And we ran down the garden, with the snowballs in our arms, toward the house; and smoke, indeed, was pouring out of the dining-room, and the gong was bombilating, and Mrs. Prothero was announcing ruin like a town crier in Pompeii. This was better than all the cats in Wales standing on the wall in a row. We bounded into the house, laden with snowballs, and stopped at the open door of the smoke-filled room.

Something was burning all right; perhaps it was Mr. Prothero, who always slept there after midday dinner with a newspaper over his face. But he was standing in the middle of the room, saying, "A fine Christmas!" and smacking at the smoke with a slipper.

"Call the fire brigade," cried Mrs. Prothero as she beat the gong. "There won't be there," said Mr. Prothero, "it's Christmas." There was no fire to be seen, only clouds of smoke and Mr. Prothero standing in the middle of them, waving his slipper as though he were conducting. "Do something," he said. And we threw all our snowballs into the smoke - I think we missed Mr. Prothero - and ran out of the house to the telephone box. "Let's call the police as well," Jim said. "And the ambulance." "And Ernie Jenkins, he likes fires."

But we only called the fire brigade, and soon the fire engine came and three tall men in helmets brought a hose into the house and Mr. Prothero got out just in time before they turned it on. Nobody could have had a noisier Christmas Eve. And when the firemen turned off the hose and were standing in the wet, smoky room, Jim's Aunt, Miss. Prothero, came downstairs and peered in at them. Jim and I waited, very quietly, to hear what she would say to them. She said the right thing, always. She looked at the three tall firemen in their shining helmets, standing among the smoke and cinders and dissolving snowballs, and she said, "Would you like anything to read?"

Years and years ago, when I was a boy, when there were wolves in Wales, and birds the color of red-flannel petticoats whisked past the harp-shaped hills, when we sang and wallowed all night and day in caves that smelt like Sunday afternoons in damp front farmhouse parlors, and we chased, with the jawbones of deacons, the English and the bears, before the motor car, before the wheel, before the duchess-faced horse, when we rode the daft and happy hills bareback, it snowed and it snowed. But here a small boy says: "It snowed last year, too. I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea."

"But that was not the same snow," I say. "Our snow was not only shaken from white wash buckets down the sky, it came shawling out of the ground and swam and drifted out of the arms and hands and bodies of the trees; snow grew overnight on the roofs of the houses like a pure and grandfather moss, minutely -ivied the walls and settled on the postman, opening the gate, like a dumb, numb thunder-storm of white, torn Christmas cards."

"Were there postmen then, too?" "With sprinkling eyes and wind-cherried noses, on spread, frozen feet they crunched up to the doors and mittened on them manfully. But all that the children could hear was a ringing of bells." "You mean that the postman went rat-a-tat-tat and the doors rang?" "I mean that the bells the children could hear were inside them." "I only hear thunder sometimes, never bells." "There were church bells, too." "Inside them?" "No, no, no, in the bat-black, snow-white belfries, tugged by bishops and storks. And they rang their tidings over the bandaged town, over the frozen foam of the powder and ice-cream hills, over the crackling sea. It seemed that all the churches boomed for joy under my window; and the weathercocks crew for Christmas, on our fence."

"Get back to the postmen" "They were just ordinary postmen, found of walking and dogs and Christmas and the snow. They knocked on the doors with blue knuckles ...." "Ours has got a black knocker...." "And then they stood on the white Welcome mat in the little, drifted porches and huffed and puffed, making ghosts with their breath, and jogged from foot to foot like small boys wanting to go out." "And then the presents?" "And then the Presents, after the Christmas box. And the cold postman, with a rose on his button-nose, tingled down the tea-tray-slithered run of the chilly glinting hill. He went in his ice-bound boots like a man on fishmonger's slabs. "He wagged his bag like a frozen camel's hump, dizzily turned the corner on one foot, and, by God, he was gone."

"Get back to the Presents." "There were the Useful Presents: engulfing mufflers of the old coach days, and mittens made for giant sloths; zebra scarfs of a substance like silky gum that could be tug-o'-warred down to the galoshes; blinding tam-o'-shanters like patchwork tea cozies and bunny-suited busbies and balaclavas for victims of head-shrinking tribes; from aunts who always wore wool next to the skin there were mustached and rasping vests that made you wonder why the aunts had any skin left at all; and once I had a little crocheted nose bag from an aunt now, alas, no longer whinnying with us. And pictureless books in which small boys, though warned with quotations not to, would skate on Farmer Giles' pond and did and drowned; and books that told me everything about the wasp, except why."

"Go on the Useless Presents." "Bags of moist and many-colored jelly babies and a folded flag and a false nose and a tram-conductor's cap and a machine that punched tickets and rang a bell; never a catapult; once, by mistake that no one could explain, a little hatchet; and a celluloid duck that made, when you pressed it, a most unducklike sound, a mewing moo that an ambitious cat might make who wished to be a cow; and a painting book in which I could make the grass, the trees, the sea and the animals any colour I pleased, and still the dazzling sky-blue sheep are grazing in the red field under the rainbow-billed and pea-green birds. Hardboileds, toffee, fudge and allsorts, crunches, cracknels, humbugs, glaciers, marzipan, and butterwelsh for the Welsh. And troops of bright tin soldiers who, if they could not fight, could always run. And Snakes-and-Families and Happy Ladders. And Easy Hobbi-Games for Little Engineers, complete with instructions. Oh, easy for Leonardo! And a whistle to make the dogs bark to wake up the old man next door to make him beat on the wall with his stick to shake our picture off the wall. And a packet of cigarettes: you put one in your mouth and you stood at the corner of the street and you waited for hours, in vain, for an old lady to scold you for smoking a cigarette, and then with a smirk you ate it. And then it was breakfast under the balloons."

"Were there Uncles like in our house?" "There are always Uncles at Christmas. The same Uncles. And on Christmas morning, with dog-disturbing whistle and sugar fags, I would scour the swatched town for the news of the little world, and find always a dead bird by the Post Office or by the white deserted swings; perhaps a robin, all but one of his fires out. Men and women wading or scooping back from chapel, with taproom noses and wind-bussed cheeks, all albinos, huddles their stiff black jarring feathers against the irreligious snow. Mistletoe hung from the gas brackets in all the front parlors; there was sherry and walnuts and bottled beer and crackers by the dessertspoons; and cats in their fur-abouts watched the fires; and the high-heaped fire spat, all ready for the chestnuts and the mulling pokers. Some few large men sat in the front parlors, without their collars, Uncles almost certainly, trying their new cigars, holding them out judiciously at arms' length, returning them to their mouths, coughing, then holding them out again as though waiting for the explosion; and some few small aunts, not wanted in the kitchen, nor anywhere else for that matter, sat on the very edge of their chairs, poised and brittle, afraid to break, like faded cups and saucers."

Not many those mornings trod the piling streets: an old man always, fawn-bowlered, yellow-gloved and, at this time of year, with spats of snow, would take his constitutional to the white bowling green and back, as he would take it wet or fire on Christmas Day or Doomsday; sometimes two hale young men, with big pipes blazing, no overcoats and wind blown scarfs, would trudge, unspeaking, down to the forlorn sea, to work up an appetite, to blow away the fumes, who knows, to walk into the waves until nothing of them was left but the two furling smoke clouds of their inextinguishable briars. Then I would be slap-dashing home, the gravy smell of the dinners of others, the bird smell, the brandy, the pudding and mince, coiling up to my nostrils, when out of a snow-clogged side lane would come a boy the spit of myself, with a pink-tipped cigarette and the violet past of a black eye, cocky as a bullfinch, leering all to himself.

I hated him on sight and sound, and would be about to put my dog whistle to my lips and blow him off the face of Christmas when suddenly he, with a violet wink, put his whistle to his lips and blew so stridently, so high, so exquisitely loud, that gobbling faces, their cheeks bulged with goose, would press against their tinsled windows, the whole length of the white echoing street. For dinner we had turkey and blazing pudding, and after dinner the Uncles sat in front of the fire, loosened all buttons, put their large moist hands over their watch chains, groaned a little and slept. Mothers, aunts and sisters scuttled to and fro, bearing tureens. Auntie Bessie, who had already been frightened, twice, by a clock-work mouse, whimpered at the sideboard and had some elderberry wine. The dog was sick. Auntie Dosie had to have three aspirins, but Auntie Hannah, who liked port, stood in the middle of the snowbound back yard, singing like a big-bosomed thrush. I would blow up balloons to see how big they would blow up to; and, when they burst, which they all did, the Uncles jumped and rumbled. In the rich and heavy afternoon, the Uncles breathing like dolphins and the snow descending, I would sit among festoons and Chinese lanterns and nibble dates and try to make a model man-o'-war, following the Instructions for Little Engineers, and produce what might be mistaken for a sea-going tramcar.

Or I would go out, my bright new boots squeaking, into the white world, on to the seaward hill, to call on Jim and Dan and Jack and to pad through the still streets, leaving huge footprints on the hidden pavements. "I bet people will think there's been hippos." "What would you do if you saw a hippo coming down our street?" "I'd go like this, bang! I'd throw him over the railings and roll him down the hill and then I'd tickle him under the ear and he'd wag his tail." "What would you do if you saw two hippos?"

Iron-flanked and bellowing he-hippos clanked and battered through the scudding snow toward us as we passed Mr. Daniel's house. "Let's post Mr. Daniel a snow-ball through his letter box." "Let's write things in the snow." "Let's write, 'Mr. Daniel looks like a spaniel' all over his lawn." Or we walked on the white shore. "Can the fishes see it's snowing?"

The silent one-clouded heavens drifted on to the sea. Now we were snow-blind travelers lost on the north hills, and vast dewlapped dogs, with flasks round their necks, ambled and shambled up to us, baying "Excelsior." We returned home through the poor streets where only a few children fumbled with bare red fingers in the wheel-rutted snow and cat-called after us, their voices fading away, as we trudged uphill, into the cries of the dock birds and the hooting of ships out in the whirling bay. And then, at tea the recovered Uncles would be jolly; and the ice cake loomed in the center of the table like a marble grave. Auntie Hannah laced her tea with rum, because it was only once a year.

Bring out the tall tales now that we told by the fire as the gaslight bubbled like a diver. Ghosts whooed like owls in the long nights when I dared not look over my shoulder; animals lurked in the cubbyhole under the stairs and the gas meter ticked. And I remember that we went singing carols once, when there wasn't the shaving of a moon to light the flying streets. At the end of a long road was a drive that led to a large house, and we stumbled up the darkness of the drive that night, each one of us afraid, each one holding a stone in his hand in case, and all of us too brave to say a word. The wind through the trees made noises as of old and unpleasant and maybe webfooted men wheezing in caves. We reached the black bulk of the house. "What shall we give them? Hark the Herald?" "No," Jack said, "Good King Wencelas. I'll count three." One, two three, and we began to sing, our voices high and seemingly distant in the snow-felted darkness round the house that was occupied by nobody we knew. We stood close together, near the dark door. Good King Wencelas looked out On the Feast of Stephen ... And then a small, dry voice, like the voice of someone who has not spoken for a long time, joined our singing: a small, dry, eggshell voice from the other side of the door: a small dry voice through the keyhole. And when we stopped running we were outside our house; the front room was lovely; balloons floated under the hot-water-bottle-gulping gas; everything was good again and shone over the town. "Perhaps it was a ghost," Jim said. "Perhaps it was trolls," Dan said, who was always reading. "Let's go in and see if there's any jelly left," Jack said. And we did that.

Always on Christmas night there was music. An uncle played the fiddle, a cousin sang "Cherry Ripe," and another uncle sang "Drake's Drum." It was very warm in the little house. Auntie Hannah, who had got on to the parsnip wine, sang a song about Bleeding Hearts and Death, and then another in which she said her heart was like a Bird's Nest; and then everybody laughed again; and then I went to bed. Looking through my bedroom window, out into the moonlight and the unending smoke-colored snow, I could see the lights in the windows of all the other houses on our hill and hear the music rising from them up the long, steady falling night. I turned the gas down, I got into bed. I said some words to the close and holy darkness, and then I slept.

#narrative #poem #dylan thomas #christmas #wales #childhood #memories

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