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drizzleoftherain · 1 month ago

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Liturgia

Chapter 10: Claiming Back the Pieces of Me That I’ve Lost, Reaching In, Hoping You’re Still Waiting

Pairing: Ava Silva & Beatrice

Ao3

Author's note: Hellooooo! I hope we can begin the healing process.

Halfway through the chapter there are performances. I have provided the links to them, please watch them before you read the sections they belong to because I am not a magical wizard in your brain. Plus, they're awesome!

Also, if you don't listen to 'Phantom' my girlfriend will pull a knife on you.

There’s a playlist and a mood-board.

“You’ll never be happy,” Ava chokes out, stifling a sob.

Beatrice, I’m in love with you.

Isn’t that fucking sad, that this is how I say those words to you.

You’re not in love with me.

I won’t let you.

She hears the sound of heels departing, but she’s frozen to the ground staring at the stupid painting. And it’s mocking her. What should be a depiction of a serene scene in front of her taunts her with a happiness she could never have, that she hasn’t allowed herself to have. She's stuck, she’s stuck on that bridge. She needs to decide. She can’t stay on the bridge.

Give it to me. Here, take mine.

I’ll fix it. I promise I’ll fix it.

It can’t be fixed. You broke it…you broke us.

She shakes her head, eyes searching the vast ceiling above her. They make their way back to the painting and this time her gaze lands on the lilies instead. The space between the bridge, the common ground, the obsession Monet himself had.

I’m in love with you.

What the fuck?

What the fuck did she do?

What the fuck did she just do?

She whirls around and bursts into a sprint. She needs to get to Ava.

Her heels slip and slide, attempting to grip to the floor in her mad dash to follow Ava’s whimpers. But her rush to catch up to Ava is hampered by the restrictive nature of her dress. Ava’s close, she can still hear her cries reverberating through the space but this place is a maze and she doesn’t remember the path she took to get here. She’s sure she has passed that same Van Gogh twice now.

At last, the arch of the grand stairs is within sight, she makes a futile attempt to quicken her pace still but the dress prevents her from advancing any faster. She’s at the top of the stairs now, she can see Ava at the foot of the stairway. Ava has her back turned to her, speaking to Alice. Alice sees her. Beatrice is taking the steps, almost falling down them in her struggle to take two or three steps in one go. Alice is pulling Ava away. She’s huffing out a yell, a scream, anything to alert Ava to her presence but nothing comes out. She’s out of breath.

They’re exiting onto 82nd Street. No.

Beatrice sees the town car pull away, carrying Ava away. The photographers outside are snapping pictures as the car departs. The crowds are still gathered hoping to catch a glimpse of celebrities. She can walk to the hotel. She can avoid the crowd and the traffic if she goes through Central Park.

A hand grips her shoulder and she reflexively puts space between them. “Beatrice!” Suzanne is looking at her, the set of her jaw tense, mouth pursed, she’s furious. “Come with me, now!”

“No.” She shakes the arm off her shoulder, taking several steps down towards the carpet.

“You and I need to talk,” Suzanne has a grip on her forearm now, it twinges under the pressure. “We need to speak before you do something else you’ll regret.”

“I don’t regret what I’ve done!” She tries to pull her arm away but can’t manage to. Suzanne’s grip holding strong. “Get your hand off me!”

“Beatrice. That is enough!” Suzanne barks out.

She finally manages to break free, Suzanne’s hand loosening but she stays rooted to the spot. Chest moving up and down erratically, she can feel the heat flushing through her neck. Her cheeks are burning from the anger currently coursing through her body. She can’t lose Ava. She won’t lose Ava. “You want to talk? Then you can follow me. We’ll talk on the way.”

Suzanne’s mouth opens in protest, but must realise just how serious Beatrice is because she nods, head aiming to the side of the museum. Beatrice turns heading in that direction.

They’re walking along the edge of Central Park. Following the same route Beatrice had fantasised about hours earlier. With Ava. Not with Suzanne who apparently wanted to talk, but was doing none of it. Probably thinking about her words. Beatrice doesn’t give a damn though, her mission is to get to The Plaza as quickly as humanly possible in this goddamn tight dress. Getting on the lift, taking it to Ava’s floor and getting on her knees.

“You need to apologise to JC. They will point the finger at you and blame you for the incident.”

She wants to laugh because this is so ridiculous. “I don’t give a damn what he does! That man child can say what he wants. I don’t owe him anything. I shouldn’t have to apologise for putting him in his place.”

“It’s not about what he deserves. It’s about the optics of it all. You know this Beatrice, it’s not about what’s right in the court of public opinion.”

“No. I won’t. He was the aggressor and I'm through with taking everything upon myself. I’m so sick and tired of sacrificing my wellbeing for the benefit of everyone else.”

That felt good. More than good. That felt amazing. She’s done. She’s done compartmentalising. She’s done sacrificing. If everyone wanted to move forward it would be on her terms and her terms alone.

“Fine. If you refuse to do as I ask and apologise then you need to be honest with me. That’s how this works. You need to tell me exactly what led to the altercation. Then we can try to make the best of the situation. I will talk to the team and we can try to get ahead of the gossip and JC’s side.” Suzanne’s serious expression turns slightly affectionate as she regards Beatrice for a few seconds before speaking again. “Beatrice… I do know you, you wouldn’t have done that unprovoked. It’s not like you.”

“Why are the events leading up to it important? He laid his hands on me and I defended myself.”

“Beatrice. My job is to protect you, protect the band. Protect your images. Keep you marketable. Let me do my job. I do care, you know?”

“Do you actually care or are you just saying that to coax it out of me?”

“I haven’t lied to you. I haven’t tried to manipulate you. I see your talent. I see the messaging you and the band are willing to bring attention to, in your songs, through living your truths, in embodying Robert Wun’s vision tonight. I was forthright with you from the outset. This is a hard business. It is harsh. But I have faith in you. I… recognise I have been hard on you all, you especially. But I do truly want to help you succeed. So please. Let me.”

Beatrice laughs wryly, “I really want to trust you. You’re already a helluva lot better a manager than Vincent ever was. But call me gunshy given everything that’s happened.”

“Then let me prove it to you. But it’s not just me, Beatrice. You have a hard road ahead of you. The band has a hard road ahead of them. In order for you all to succeed, for you to be a cohesive unit, you will need to let us in. All of us. You can’t do this all by yourself. As much as you want to put the onus on me, you are just as much at fault for the state of your wellbeing, mental and physical. Let us help you, ease the burdens. I will continue to ask difficult things of you but you can talk to me.”

Beatrice is quiet. Suzanne is right. She should have been more open with her friends, the people she considers family. She had gotten in her head and created this mess herself. She had blamed her past as the reason why she couldn’t have her present. She had blamed imaginary shortcomings. Had blamed Ava for all the problems she herself had created.

“Why are we rushing back in the direction of the hotel?”

“I need to get to Ava. I need to talk to her.”

Suzanne lifts an eyebrow at this. “Why do you need to get to Ava Silva?”

“Because…because I’ve–I hurt her. I’ve been hurting her.” She looks down. Saying it out loud has brought back the tears and Suzanne can’t see her like this. Not yet. “I keep hurting the one person that’s been putting me before herself and I can’t let that continue.”

“What are you saying? Be explicit. Are you and Ava -? Since when has this been happening?”

“September.”

“September?!” Suzanne stops walking, but Beatrice continues. It takes several seconds but they’re next to each other again. Suzanne is looking ahead to the hotel, it’s coming closer and closer now. “So she’s the reason. The reason why you have been late to your schedules? Why you’ve been distracted. Beatrice. While that is not, and will continue to not be acceptable, God knows, especially arriving late to the fitting at Robert Wun’s, you should have told me. I–I could have helped. We could have worked something out, or at least worked something out so the album schedule didn’t suffer as a result.” Suzanne sighs. “While I understand the initial flush of love is exhilarating and all encompassing, you also have responsibilities Beatrice, ones you cannot shirk. I am certain Ava did not. That comes from experience and good management.”

“I–I didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want to acknowledge that’s what was happening. I certainly did not want you finding out.”

“I see.”

“I saw that JC came as her date to the Gala. I know they dated a while back. Was it a jealousy thing? Did he attack you out of jealousy?”

“What do you think? He was drunk, very drunk.”

“And you and Ava, you argued?”

“Yes.”

“What’s her stance in all of this mess?”

“What does that mean?”

“You and her ex had a very public showdown at the Met Gala of all places, Beatrice. Apparently she has been and continues to put you first but you’ve hurt her. And now she’s left the Gala early because of a fight that you’ve had. Where does that leave her?”

“I don’t know!” The tears they’re building up again, because she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what Ava thinks about all of this. She doesn’t know if Ava will fling her off the balcony window. And at this point Beatrice would let her.

“So what is the plan?”

“To beg for forgiveness.”

“It does seem like that is the only avenue available to you at the moment. I don’t know the specifics and I don’t need to know… but Beatrice? A heartfelt apology and honesty are a good start.”

They walk on in silence.

“Beatrice?”

Beatrice hums in reply.

“I’m happy for you. But speaking solely as your manager now, I need to find an angle. And fast.”

“He assaulted me. That’s your angle.” Her eyes are fierce as they lock on to Suzanne’s own. “And please, whatever you do, you need to protect Ava…I need to protect her. This had nothing to do with her. This will not come back to her. Are we in agreement?”

Suzanne nods. “I will speak to Emilia.”

Both silent and deep in thought, they continue to power walk in their heels back to the hotel.

—

Rounding the Grand Army Plaza and hurrying across the crosswalk, Beatrice draws back in momentary shock as she sees the rest of the band and Levy piling out of a van at the front entrance of the hotel. They must have left the Gala shortly after them.

Beatrice is almost upon them now and Camila throws up an arm in greeting and to flag them down, “HI! Wow–wha–Bea, where are you going!? Bea? Bea!”

Beatrice flings a hand up to wave back at them in greeting but she will not slow down, she is a woman on a mission.

Faintly, Beatrice hears Suzanne say ‘let her go’ to the others.

Stepping out of the lift on the 19th floor, Beatrice makes a beeline for Ava’s door. Knocking rapidly Beatrice waits impatiently outside. “Ava, it’s me. Beatrice. Please open up.” No answer. Beatrice knocks again. Still nothing.

Now she begins to pound the door in earnest. Slamming the door in punctuation between each word. “Ava! Please. We need to talk. Please! Just let me speak to you face to face. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it. I don’t want to push you away anymore. It is about you! The song is about you! Just give me a chance to do this right.” Imperceptibly, she hears footsteps approach the door from the other side. Leaning her head against the door, Beatrice murmurs a final plea to Ava on the other side, “Please Ava, don’t give up on us.” Falling forward as the door swings inward, Beatrice just manages to arrest her momentum and right herself, “What the f–”, she swallows the rest of the word as she finds herself face to face with Emilia. Not Ava.

Emilia regards her dispassionately. “Please come in and shut the door before you make a bigger fool of yourself in public, further exacerbating the events of tonight. Or before there’s a noise complaint.”

Emilia settles down on the couch and imperiously gestures for Beatrice to sit across from her. Beatrice complies, almost on autopilot. Emilia scares her, she reminds her of the nuns at Sunday School. Opening her mouth, she utters “A-Ava?”, eyes roving around to look for her.

“Ava? Ava has left already. Alice and Ava are headed for the airport and will catch the next flight out. I remain here to pack up this mess.” Every nerve ending is screaming at Beatrice to get up and catch a taxi to JFK. She will offer them a ridiculous tip if they’re willing to break the speed limit. Surely she can catch up . Alas, Beatrice must noticeably twitch because Emilia’s mouth thins and a look very reminiscent of Ava’s crosses her face. “Stay. You are not to go after my niece,” Emilia commands.

Settling further back into the couch, Emilia watches her silently. Beatrice can feel beads of sweat forming at her brow in the face of Emilia’s imposing demeanour, her posture ramrod straight as she waits for Emilia to say something, do something. Time drags on. Now, she isn’t sure if Emilia’s dissecting her or waiting for her to speak so she stammers out a few incomprehensible words before falling silent again.

A small curve briefly creases at the corner of Emilia’s mouth and amusement seems to dance across her eyes before it’s gone as quickly as it came. “Tell me about tonight. From the little I have heard or witnessed, this seems out of character for you.”

Briefly Beatrice wonders how much Emilia knows, as both Ava’s manager and aunt. “JC and I spoke, we had a brief argument over some events and when I attempted to extract myself from the situation, JC grabbed me and in self-defense I retaliated. It was not my intention to dislocate his shoulder… I’ve already spoken to Suzanne and she will reach out to you.”

“Ah. Yes. Suzanne De Fanti. I know her well. You’re lucky to have someone of her caliber in your corner. Although you’re no doubt making her work for her money tonight.” Emilia arches an eyebrow at Beatrice, examining something closely. “I presume from your admission that Suzanne will reach out to me, JC’s involvement and the speed at which Ava and Alice departed for the airport that the unfortunate events tonight had something to do with Ava, yes?”

Beatrice nods a single nod in reply. “Yes, but I’ve already told Suzanne in unequivocal terms that she needs to do everything in her power to keep Ava’s name out of this. It’s between JC and I.”

“Hmm.” Again, Emilia seems amused.

Sitting forward now, Emilia pins Beatrice with a look. “I am aware that you assisted Ava with parts of her album. I am told, by both Ava and Alice, that you are quite a talented individual. You’re wearing Robert Wun. It takes guts to do what you did tonight on the carpet, to put that kind of messaging out there. Especially bold of a newcomer to have done so. Some…many would call it foolish. All of this to say, that professionally, I look forward to what becomes of you and the Cruciforms. Suzanne will handle tonight, of that I have no doubt. ”

Drawing breath now, Emilia continues “Over the last while, I have seen Ava happier than I have seen her in a long time. She’s smiling genuinely, she’s energetic, she’s enjoyed the process of making this album. Ava’s been healthier, she’s joyful when we talk about work and family stuff. I deduce that I have you, at least on some level, to thank for that. I’m not blind, I see her face when she receives a text from you, when she sneaks off to call someone . But , I also have witnessed a turn these last few months. Ava has been more withdrawn again, she’s less engaged. She turns up but she is not present. She, thankfully, has not lapsed into her old ways. I again suspect I have you to blame for this reversal.”

“You clearly care about Ava. Good. But make no mistake Beatrice Young, Ava has left New York tonight because of you. Beyond what Ava elects to share with me in her own time, I don’t need the details of what has transpired between the two of you up to this point. Tonight, you have hurt my niece and she has chosen to go. You will let her go. If you want to approach Ava again, you will need to regain her trust and fix the situation. Don’t show up again if you are not prepared to do so.”

“I understand.”

“You may go.”

As Beatrice gets up, Emilia’s phone rings. Glancing at the contact, Emilia hurriedly picks up the call. Beatrice can only make out one side of the conversation as she walks towards the door “Alice? Yes. Ok. What? WHAT!? What on earth do you mean she’s–!? Who let her!? LET ME SP-” Emilia seemingly realises that Beatrice is still in the room and has halted at her words, Beatrice’s head swivelling around now to look at Emilia on the phone. “Get out!”, Emilia yells, every word radiating with barely constrained rage. As Ava’s hotel room door shuts behind her, Beatrice can make out angry, rapid fire Spanish spewing forth from Emilia.

—

Returning to her hotel room, Beatrice halts at the doorway at the sight of the entire band all crammed into the one room.

All four members are crowded around Camila’s phone, in various states of hovering, crouching and sitting on Camila’s bed, laser focused on whatever is on Camila’s screen. Beatrice can hear a muffled tinny bass sound emitting from the speakers but can’t quite make it out. “Hello?” Beatrice asks, puzzled.

With a jerk of their heads, Mary and Lilith finally register her presence. Both have flushed cheeks and necks and suspiciously neither of them will look directly at her, eyes roaming everywhere, looking past her. Yasmine is seated still, having reached forward to pause whatever is on Camila’s phone and is now regarding her quietly with her head cocked to the side. Clearing her throat, Mary finally musters a “You’re back” while Lilith nods once in greeting. Camila alone seems to be ignoring her presence, utterly transfixed by her phone.

“Hello? Cam?” Beatrice ventures again.

At that, Camila finally seems to register her arrival, bringing her head up with her mop of curls bouncing freely to look at Beatrice, face splitting into a grin, “OH! Beatrice. You’re back! QUICK, come look. Come, come!” beckoning Beatrice forth.

As Beatrice approaches, Camila swivels the phone around to face her, shifting her hand away from the phone speaker. A still shot of Ava’s face is on the screen, mouth open midway with butterflies surrounding her. “Wha-what’s this?”

“Ava’s dropped the teaser video for her album! Sadly, the Lord has deemed me not worthy of a gay awakening, yet again. BUT SHE’S SO HOT. ”

Behind Cam, Lilith drops her head and sighs.

Camila is restarting the video.

(*)

As the video begins to play Beatrice feels the strange sensation of her stomach dropping straight out of her body, she feels like she’s on the verge of going into cardiac arrest, her face and ears turning red and hot in record time. She can feel and hear her heartbeat thundering away in her eardrum or is that the song’s pulsating beat? No. That’s her heart.

Trying to maintain a modicum of her composure while her libido rockets skyhigh in the presence of her band members, Beatrice presses pause and rapidly backs up a few steps. Both Mary and Lilith are now very determinedly looking at the ceiling.

“What’s happening? Why is this video out? What’s going on!?” Her thoughts go to Emilia upstairs and the state she left her in. Emilia was talking to someone and then yelling in Spanish. To Ava probably. What did Ava do?

“She suddenly dropped the album!”

“She dropped her album?”

“Yeah, the whole thing! She Beyoncéd us!”

No. Ava is doing it again. She’s sacrificing for them…for her. The back of her throat burns as Beatrice struggles against her need to cry.

They’ve been sitting in the room waiting for Suzanne and Levy and her bandmates are keeping a distance. Beatrice can tell they’re on edge now that excitement of Ava’s surprise album drop has dissipated. All of them are scrolling through their socials, biting their nails, their lips. Lilith and Mary are pacing, looking up every so often in her direction. She is standing by the window, gaze occasionally landing on the dark expanse that is Central Park. She is honestly quite surprised with herself given the circumstances. A weird sense of calm has taken over her, not resignation but relief.

“...shouldn’t touch women without permission, asshole!” Camila’s voice burst through her phone. She looks in Beatrice’s direction apologetically, shutting it quickly. “I’m sorry, it autoplayed.”

“It’s fine,” She replies, not bothered. She has seen the videos of the flip already, all from different angles, all the same gasps, all the same reactions.

“Are we going to talk about this or are we just going to wait for Suzanne to reprimand us?” It’s Lilith who speaks up, breaking the silence that has taken over the small room, she’s remarkably kind in her delivery.

“Suzanne and Levy are trying to manage the situation I’ve caused, it’s best if we just wait for them.”

Mary is at Lilith’s side. “We’re a band, we’re in this together, you know this Beatrice.”

“Yeah, Bea whatever happens this is our problem too,” Camila sits up on the bed, dress wrinkling under her.

Her arms fall lightly to her sides, “I don’t regret what I did.”

Yasmine comes to sit by Camila, “Good. We wouldn’t forgive you if you did. He probably deserved it. It’s not like you to do something like that.”

They’re all watching her now. All concerned but also giving her space.

“You need to be honest with us though, before Suzanne and Levy get here. We need to be on the same page.” Lilith is talking again with the same kind tone, “We need to protect you.”

“I apprecia–”

“Beatrice, come on.” Mary says, a little irritated.

Yasmine nods, “Share this–whatever it is with us.”

“Yeah, Bea. Come,” Camila pats the other side of the bed, urging her to them and she goes. She sits. They all surround her now waiting.

“It’s…it was because of Ava.”

“OH MY GOD!”

“Camila shush!”

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

“CAMILA! Be quiet!”

“You little shit! Why did you keep this from us!? FROM ME?!”

“Camila, it was obvious to anyone with eyes.”

“What!?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I was the first to figure it out,” Mary says a bit arrogantly shoving at Camila’s shoulder. “When we found Beatrice drunk at the studio.”

“WHAT?!”

“Oh shit?” Lilith ignores Camila’s outburst, “I figured it out at the diner. There was no way Beatrice would do such a pathetic thing in a public setting.”

“Oh my God! The music video shoot!” Camila grabs Beatrice's hands, turning her to face her. Camila’s eyes are roaming her hers like an excited cavoodle with zero brain cells.“That night! You didn’t come to the room. Were you with Ava?”

“Yes.” Her cheeks begin to heat with the insinuation and everyone must notice because they all have devilish looking smiles on their faces.

“Oh my God!” Camila says again, as if God has anything to do with it. “Well, at least I wasn’t the last one to figure it out then. I put the pieces together this morning. Yasmine did you know?!”

“I knew.” Yasmine says casually, wiggling on the bed, a bit far too amused with the reveal, “Since the Grammys. She came in asking for musical theater tickets, Beatrice doesn’t like musicals. It was suspicious behavior to say the least. Did you guys really not notice the amount of sneaking around she was doing, she thinks she’s sneaky but she really isn’t. Also, Beatrice is never on her phone and there was a dramatic spike in her phone usage since October. You guys need to be more observant.”

Camila is standing now, “I was the last to notice?!” Her eyes have popped out of their sockets in a hilarious yet alarming way.

The hotel room door opens and Suzanne steps inside followed closely behind by Levy who is focused on his phone, typing rapidly. Suzanne regards them for a few seconds before bringing her hands up, ushering them into a cluster by the bed again, where they all stand and sit in various states of anticipation.

“A server uploaded a clip right before the flip clearly showing that JC is the one to grab Beatrice’s hand first. We reached out to them and they were more than happy to send us the entire video. We can’t hear what’s being said, but it’s evident JC is the aggressor and instigated the situation.”

“Levy is reaching out to JC’s publicists now and we are releasing a statement that Beatrice is unequivocally not at fault here.”

An immediate release is heard and felt across the room as the members and Beatrice herself exhales. This is good. This is exactly what they needed. Surely JC will need to admit fault and apologise for his actions lest his career go up in flames for being seen to be aggressive towards women.

—

It’s close to 4 am by the time everyone else departs her and Camila’s room. She’s just laying in her bed attempting to get an ounce of sleep but the night’s events just keep cycling through her mind. And at this point Beatrice isn’t sure what to do except just laying there thinking about everything nonstop.

She reaches for her phone and headphones, maneuvers her way through Spotify and finds Ava’s album. The red cover is confronting and difficult to look away from so she hits play, shuts her phone’s screen and the album begins.

Ava’s voice subsumes her thoughts. Months of listening to parts of this album come back all at once. Moments where she snuck away from her duties, hours where she sat beside Ava in the studio moving things around in programs and rushing to play an instrument because ‘you need to add this here’ followed by Ava’s ‘I already thought of that I was just too lazy to get up’ and then getting up to do it for her. And it’s terrifying to truly think about how in sync they’ve been since they met. How everything had come so naturally to them. How love had come so naturally.

Beatrice listens to the entire album in one go. Lyrics catch her attention here and there but the main focus is Ava and her multifaceted voice and all the emotions imbued. She gets to what appears to be a simple ballad. It almost sounds like a Disney song. There’s a build up and then the final words are among the few she can understand. It’s the word hentai over and over and over again.

That can't be right. She grabs her phone and looks at the song’s name ‘HENTAI’. She heard correctly. The lyrics haven’t been uploaded yet, she can’t even try Google translate. Surely, people are discussing the album. She jumps on Reddit. A live page has been created by Ava’s fandom out of pure panic. Fans are losing their minds due to the surprise drop and the thoughts are scattered. She types in the naughty word and the comments inundate her.

“Wow Hentai, someone’s horny.”

“Is Hetai a masturbation song?”

“I didn’t think I needed hentai in my life.”

“¿Vamos a hablar de lo sexy que es esta canción?”

“Someone let Ava know she’s a little frisky here.”

“Heeeeeeeeennnnntaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiii!!!!!”

“Okay, but who does Ava want to eat out?!”

EAT OUT?

She keeps scrolling, reading through every comment, someone has got to have translated it by now or at least written something rough she can begin to wrap her mind around. After minutes of horny comments she has found the holy grail.

(*)

Pero mírate, no pienses más, na' que pensar

(But look at you, don’t think about it, there’s nothing left to think about)

Tan rico no puede ser, de cuero na', pero estoy encuera'

(It can’t be that delicious, no more bitching because I’m bare for you)

Yo la batí, hasta que se montó

(I started myself off right to the edge)

Segundo es chingarte, lo primero e' Dios

(I’ll fuck you second but first comes God [her orgasm])

So, so, so good, so, so, so good

So, so, so good

So good

Mmm

Bebé, te quiero comer

(Baby, I want to eat you out)

(Now)

Beatrice’s heart is about to break through her chest a la the facehugger from Alien. Now she can’t stop listening. The song is on repeat. Over and over. Ava’s voice consuming her thoughts. The lyrics dance in her mind conjuring thoughts she has suppressed for months. Thoughts she hasn’t allowed herself to have about Ava, but Ava has very clearly had about her. Enough to write a dirty song about it.

A pillow makes contact with her face twice, “YOU NEED TO STOP!” It’s Camila, hair in a state of disarray, heavy bags under her eyes. “She wants to eat you out, okay! Now, please either move past the song or go to sleep because I can’t sleep with you blasting that on repeat and knowing who the song is about. So for the sake of our friendship I’m going to go back to bed and you’re going to skip the song and we’re never going to speak about this ever again!”

Mmm, hentai

—

Ava Silva Postpones Schedules as Drinking Controversy Unfolds

The Cruciforms’ New Hit Takes Over the Charts—A Global Sensation!

Too Much to Handle? Ava Silva Caught in Late Night Scandal, Events Scrapped

Music History Made: The Cruciforms’ Latest Single “Somebody Else” Smashes Streaming Records

Pop Star’s Wild Night Out Leads to Delayed Appearance and Fan Outrage

Critics and Fans Agree—The Cruciforms Latest Release Is a Game-Changer

Rehab Rumors Swirl as Ava Silva Pushes Back Tour Dates

A New Era Begins: The Cruciforms' Chart-Topping Single Defines a Generation

Out of Control! Ava Silva’s Diva Attitude Escalates as She Lashes Out at Team

The Cruciforms Just Dropped a Classic—Their New Song Is an Instant Hit

—

Ava spots Alice the moment she emerges into the open bar outside. The night is still early as music from the hired DJ blasts around the pool area of the hotel. Ava and her team are staying at Continuum, one of the many hotels in Ocean Drive, Miami. Ava’s here to start promoting her second single, a more tropical beach ready song. Miami is one of their first stops along the Americas as the team undertakes a massive country hopping tour for the marketing of the song.

The music video has wrapped today and she has been given the night to herself. A freedom that she has too willingly taken advantage of. She grips her hand tighter around the highball glass, walking past various bodies dancing along the edge of the pool and inside it. If she can keep her distance from Alice then she can keep drinking. She can keep distracting herself. She can’t and won’t go into her hotel room sober. She would say she's at least tipsy, but the night is young and the bartender likes her.

“What are you doing?!” Alice hisses from across the pool bumping into various undressed wet bodies.

Ava increases her pace, the sarong wrapped around her bikini flapping along with her movements. She’s small and she can hide behind bodies. She can do this. She can get away from Alice . And she does, but they all just assume she wants to dance and move around her, swinging their hips, they’re all also heavily inebriated.

(*)

Pásame la botella

(Pass the bottle)

Voy a beber en nombre de ella

(I’m going to drink in her name)

Alice grips her arm and yanks her so ferociously that her drink spills on the ground. It’s enough of a distraction for Ava to scurry off in the direction of the bar, Alice hot on her tail. “Ava! Ava for crying out loud!”

She’s disorientated by the flashing lights reflecting on the pool and the hotel's outside walls, but it’s fine she can see the bottles from here, she’s heading in the right direction. Sort of . She pushes between a couple who scowl down at her, she awards them with a shrug and a disgusted look before sticking out her tongue at them. Love sucks, no one should fall in love. It’s not worth it.

The bartender, a guy in his 30’s spots her right away already pouring another drink for her. He slides the drink into her hand suggestively and she spins away. NOPE . Beatrice’s pouty face comes to her mind then and her heart twinges and she wants to die because she’s so stupidly in love with this asshole that she can’t function. And all she wants to do is unblock her and call her, but she won’t. She won’t. SHE WON’T.

“AVA!” Alice has found her…again.

Before Alice can begin her tirade she opens her mouth and drunkenly sings along with the song, “ Hay algo que quiero deciiiiiiir esto no me puede estar pasando a mííííííí. La chica que quería para mííííííí es traicionera y me ha quemado hasta moooooorir!!!! ”

(There’s something I want to say, this can’t be happening to me. The girl that I wanted for myself is treacherous and has burned me to death!!!!)

“Ava come to bed, you know this isn’t healthy.” Alice says, trying but failing to grab at her glass. She drinks from her cup, head bobbing along to the music. The bartender taps her shoulder asking if she wants a refill, she holds the glass out to him and he’s about to pour from the rum bottle when Alice intersects, grabbing the bottle herself. “Scram!” And he does.

Ava quickly drinks from the half empty cup before Alice can grab it again. “ Todo lo que le brindé…le di mi amor y mi cariño también, lo que ella me pedía se lo daba también!!! ”

(Everything I gave her…I gave her my love and affection too, whatever she asked for I gave her too!!!”

Alice sighs next to her, loud enough to be heard over the music. Alice raises the rum bottle above her head and pours rum into her own mouth. “Fuck it. I tried. Love sucks”. Alice then pours rum into Ava’s waiting mouth.

And that’s Ava’s cue for winning the argument. She walks past Alice to the dancing crowd gathered in front of the DJ booth.

Todos los que han sido traicionados

(All those who have been betrayed)

Y con la botella se han desahogado

(And with a bottle let off some steam)

A la cuenta de tres quiero ver todo el mundo con el coro

(On the count of three I want to hear everyone with the chorus)

One!

Two!

EEEH AAHHH!

—

“Are we all watching the same video?? This is NOT just acting—Beatrice and Ava have insane chemistry! I’m shipping them SO hard!!”

“Why does everything have to be about pushing an agenda these days? Just make music and leave politics out of it.”

“The tension, the glances, the HAND TOUCHING… they knew exactly what they were doing with this one.”

“I miss when music was just about the music. Now it’s all about shock value.

“Y’ALL. That moment at 2:37??? I had to pause and collect myself. They are literally soulmates.”

“They’re obviously just queerbaiting. If they were actually together, they’d have said something by now.”

“I came for the music, I stayed for the romantic drama they just dropped on us. I NEED ANSWERS.”

“Ava is ruining her image with this. She didn’t need to go there.”

“They had NO business making this video this intense. I need to lie down.”

“First Ava changes her sound, now she’s pulling this stunt? I’m done supporting her.”

—

It’s Ava's birthday and she’s blocked. She’s been blocked since that night. She’s starting to get desperate. Their schedules aren’t aligning and she is considering doing something crazy like stalking her or getting on a plane to Ava. The schedule Ava had shared is now useless as everything has shifted with the sudden release of her album. Ava has been on the other side of the world for two months now promoting her new single and they’re here in Washington, D.C. and this is the closest she’s been to Ava. They’ve just finished filming a performance for Tiny Desk, which will be out once the album releases in two weeks.

Camila hasn’t been much help either, ‘I can’t risk my friendship with Ava, Bea.’ ‘What about our friendship?’ ‘We survived being teenagers together, we can survive this!’. And all she can do is spy on Ava’s Instagram for all of five seconds before Zuckerbug forces her to make an account.

Levy’s phone is on the table across from her and she is staring at it hard. He must have Alice’s number. She can call Alice and maybe get through to Ava. Alice will probably hang up on her though, she has to be strategic with what she says. She probably has only one good sentence before Alice tears her a new one and hangs up. That’s if Levy’s password is easy enough to crack. She grabs the phone, careful not to bring attention to herself as she steps out of the office. She follows the signs for the emergency exit and arrives at the emergency stairwell.

Of course Levy has a display picture of himself on his work phone. The password is four numbers. She thinks back to their conversations for any kind of reference to numbers or dates that he is partial to, but she’s drawing a blank. Levy is not a complex individual, she can do this.

1234

No.

1111

No.

She has ten tries and then the phone will lock itself.

0000

It unlocks. Hah. Idiot . She’s in. She madly taps the contact app and finds Alice’s name easily. There’s an angry emoji and a water gun next to her name. She hits the number and brings the phone to her ear. It’s ringing. It’s ringing…what does she say…what does she say….

Alice picks up, “I thought I told you not to be a nuisance.” She’s silent long enough for Alice to speak again, “Oh wow, did someone finally cut off your tongue? Tell me who, I’m going to send them an edible basket.”

“I fucked up, Alice. Please don’t hang up on me. It’s Ava’s birthday and all I want to do is say hi and ask her how her day is. And I know that she’s angry and you’re angry and I know you want to end the call, please don’t.” The line is quiet, but at least Alice is listening. “I know you probably won't let me speak to her so please just tell her I called. That I wanted to wish her a happy birthday and that I’m trying to get my shit together, okay?”

“Did Levy let you use this phone?”

“No, I kind of ran off with it. I’m desperate.”

“Beatrice. I don’t appreciate you calling me like this. You’re putting me in a difficult spot. I’m already blurring the lines between friendship and work.”

“I know. I know–I’m sorry I just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t want Ava to think I’ve forgotten about her or-or that I’m moving on, because that is such an impossibility. It’s just not possible.”

“She’s here.”

“She is?”

“Yes.”

“Can I–can I speak with her?”

“No.”

“...A–Alice,” Her voice breaks.

“Ava…” Alice is speaking away from the phone, “Beatrice–” There’s rustling and she can’t make out what’s being said but she knows that voice, it’s Ava’s voice. “Ava says thank you. And has asked me to remind you to drink some water.”

“Alice–”

“I’m going to hang up now, Beatrice. Don’t do this again. And just so we’re clear, I am going to let Levy know what you’ve done. And if this happens again I’m going to bury both of you alive with live mice.”

—

August 3rd, Grant Park, Chicago

(*)

I'm losing myself

In the darkness of the world

Catch me before I fall

Ava hears Beatrice’s voice hauntingly echo across the festival grounds with Lilith’s light guitar picking to accompany it and Yasmine adding to the mood with her cymbals. As she pushes through the crowd to get closer, she can see the other band members waiting for their cue to start. Alice grips her hand following along, they’re managing to cut through the crowd. The band are all wearing matching form fitting maroon suits with loose long bow around their collars.

Saving myself

Is all I really know

Seen it, been done before

The late afternoon sun bounces off her sunglasses easily as the sweaty bodies bump, bounce and nudge into her, all jumping in anticipation. Yasmine’s drum begins to cue the beat and Beatrice starts to hop in place along with the tempo. Lilith’s guitar intensifies followed by Mary and Camila.

I'm a dynasty

The pain in my vein is hereditary

Dynasty

Running in my bloodstream, my bloodstream

Dynasty

And if that's all that I'm gonna be

Won't you break the chain with me?

“Lollapalooza are you ready? Let’s GO!” Beatrice speaks into her microphone, the stand adorned with red carnations.

Beatrice is a vision of perfection, composed and confident. The size of the crowd is no joke either. There’s probably close to 100,000 people here right now. All bobbing along to the Cruciforms.

Ava shouldn’t be here. She knows this. Even hearing Beatrice is painful, but simultaneously it’s filling her with all sorts of happy emotions. She knows Beatrice is trying, has been trying. That even in Emilia’s rage after releasing the album she spoke well of Beatrice. Had assured her that Beatrice had come to the hotel room in a state of agitation but also determined to get to her, to get to Ava.

She’s conflicted. She was meant to do a clean cut that night and never be in Beatrice’s orbit again. She can’t bring herself to.

“Ava!” Alice shouts into her ear.

“WHAT!”

“Levy! Levy just called and said he can get us closer!”

“I–I don’t think I should!” She shakes her head. She had promised herself just this. Not much closer. “This is okay!”

“He’s just at the side there!” Alice points to the left side of the stage where a couple of crew members are gathered, plus Levy who has children’s noise cancelling headphones on and doesn’t seem to be having a good time. “It’ll be safe for us, and she can’t see us from there. She’ll be distracted!”

Ava nods more for her own confirmation than Alice, “Okay! Yeah, okay.”

They continue into the deep parts of the crowd which is now getting more difficult to maneuver through. Ava knows that Alice is working those pointy elbows though because the crowd is parting like the Red Sea in front of them.

Levy spots them, frantically stepping off the platform and rushing to them. “Let them through, they're with me!” He yells at the security guard who just shrugs like he wasn’t going to protest it to begin with.

I'm gonna take the throne this time

All the words all mine, all mine

It's been way too long, too far

Too gone, to carry on

“Hi Levy, eat any children today?” Alice asks, gripping his earphones and releasing them in one go, slamming them back into his ears.

“Okay, first of all rude. I can have you removed if I wanted to,” He jabs Alice’s shoulder several times coinciding with the beat of the music. “AVA! Doesn’t your show start afterwards, shouldn’t you be getting ready?” His pulse point at his neck is noticeably pulsating, intensifying as if it’s also his responsibility to get her on that stage tonight.

Beatrice is now walking across the stage microphone in hand. Eyes laser focused on the crowd in front of her. “Here we go!”

Mother and father, you gave me life

I nearly gave it away for the sake of my sanity

Hurting inside, no end in sight

Passing it down, I'm not losing this fight

Mother and father, I know you were raised differently

Fighting about money and his infidelity

Now it's my time to make things right

And if I fail, then I am my dynasty!

Lilith walks to Beatrice then and the guitar solo begins as Beatrice harmonises along with the guitar.

And Ava. She wants to reply, but Beatrice is distracting. Everything is distracting. She can hear Alice answer for her as the final chorus ends with a sustained note and the crowd erupts into screams. Beatrice smiles into the crowd and an intense feeling bursts into her heart. Pride. To see Beatrice so confident and in her element makes Ava feel the emotion just as fiercely as Beatrice does.

Cruciforms!

(*)

“Lollapalooza,” Beatrice shakes her head, mystified by the reception, eye smile on full display. “I said ‘Lollapalooza!’” The crowd breaks into cheers again as Beatrice holds the microphone out to them. “Are you ready to dance? Are you ready to cry? Are you ready to scream?!” The reply back is deafening. “Shhhh shhhhh shhhhh shhhh shhhhuuuuushhhhh! I said Shut. The. Fuck. Up!”

Lilith began to strum the strings of her guitar.

“I said Shut! The! Fuck! Up!” This time the crowd chanted along with Beatrice.

SHUT THE FUCK UP!

“LOUDER!” Beatrice’s voice cracks as she yells.

SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!!!!!

“LET’S GO!” Yasmine began to thrash at the drums as the heavy metal sound took over the festival. The members banged their heads along with the beat of the drum.

I want to know, I want to know!

Silence finally in my head

But it's too late, you already left

You're preaching even though I'm dead

You're like the first time under my pride

How come you don't expect me

To get mad when I'm angry?

You've never seen it though I know I'm not the only one

How come you don't respect me?

Expecting fantasies

Leave our reality, why don't you just sit down

The second verse comes quickly and then it’s the chorus again. “SING IT!” Beatrice holds the microphone up to the crowd as they sing along with the pre-chorus, her middle finger up to them.

Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up!

Have you ever thought about taping your big mouth shut?

'Cause I have, many times, many times

Beatrice does a cute dance on stage to contrast the significance of the lyrics as Camila plays along on keys with a little jingle. “SING IT!” She holds the microphone to the crowd again who are all too happy to join in as the words come on to the screen behind Beatrice.

Have you ever thought about taping your big mouth shut?

'Cause I have, many times, many times!!

Beatrice’s voice drops into a growl as she walks to each side of the stage, face adorned by an angry glare, “Like the first time, like the first time, like the first time, like the first time, like the first time, like the first time, like the first tiiiiiiiiiiiime aaaaaaaaaaaah!”

Alice taps her shoulder as Beatrice’s final belt encompasses the entire field. “Not much longer.” She nods, but her attention goes back to Beatrice as she screams along with Lilith and applause comes their way again.

After a few minutes of dialogue between Beatrice and the audience, the instrument tuner excuses himself as he passes by Ava with an black acoustic Gibson guitar in hand. He helps sling it across Beatrice's shoulder as she puts the microphone back atop the decorated stand.

“I was wondering if we could slow it down for a few minutes.” Beatrice takes a pick from the stand, “I know the album is out and we’re all really excited about it and you guys are really excited about it. There’s a song that's not on the album, but I want to share it because it has helped me cope with everything these last three months. I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching of sorts, therapy mainly. If you look at my phone it may appear like I’m dating my therapist at this point.” She laughs at her own self-deprecating joke and Ava can’t help but find it endearing. “Writing music has always been a way of dealing with my feelings. I wrote this song for a young Beatrice who never had a chance to shine. I hope that I can begin to do right by her from now on. And that I can do right by someone I’ve hurt, who deserves so much more from me. If you’re listening I want you to know that everything you said is the truth, I refuse to deny it any further.” Beatrice takes a big breath and closes her eyes, “Anyways, this is ‘ Phantom ’.”

Beatrice strums and sings along to the first verse of the song.

(*)

Once upon a time

There was a girl, pleasing the world

Dying to be liked, looking for love

Wanting to trust

Ava is reeling from Beatrice’s easy admission that she’s been attending therapy.

Breaking off pieces, things started to change

I've been trying to find her since, she gave a little too much away

Ava’s heart thuds uncomfortably in her chest, pained at the thought of the little girl in the photo at Beatrice's apartment, her cheeky smile before the world and its expectations began to weigh on her.

Before Beatrice began to put up a front to appease her family, everyone around her.

If I could talk to you, I'd tell you not to rush

You're good enough

You don't have to lose, what makes you you

Still got some growing to do

Ava has to physically shut her eyes and bow her head down in the moment, letting the brutal honesty of Beatrice’s lyrics wash over her. Beatrice plaintively telling her younger and current self that she is worthy.

When did we get so estranged

Haunted by the way I've changed

Claiming back the pieces of me that I've lost

Reaching in and hoping you're still, waiting by the windowsill

I'd bring you back to us

Now raising her head towards the sky, Ava is actively holding back the tears burning at her eyes. Pushing her sunglasses up, she furiously brushes at her eyes and nose.

I was wrong to assume, I would ever outgrow you

I need you now, I need you close

How do you hold a ghost?

Inner child, come back to me, I want to tell you that I'm sorry

I'm sorry

As Lilith’s guitar solo starts, it all happens so quickly. Ava’s eyes meet Beatrice’s. Before she knows it, Beatrice has dashed in her direction. A panicked sort of expression on her face breaking her performance persona, like she hadn’t expected Ava to be there and is terrified of her disappearing. And there’s no stopping her, she’s slinging the guitar to her back, the song forgotten. Ava needs to do something, Beatrice is leaving the stage and this can’t happen, that’s not what's required of them.

The moment is so long that Camila has turned in their direction, eyes going back to Lilith prompting her to continue the solo and both Mary and Yasmine are looking at Beatrice confused. Ava raises her hands in front of her, lightly patting the air there so that Beatrice understands what she means, but she doesn't stop; she's resolute, she's about to take the steps down to Ava.

Ava shakes her head and mouths “No.” And Beatrice stops, eyes searching hers and eyebrows pulled into a frown. Ava stands absolutely still, hands in front of her. Beatrice nods as if broken from a trance, eyes lingering on her before reluctantly turning back to the stage, but not without looking back once more, just to check if Ava is still there.

Beatrice faces the audience only for a moment, the mask still broken, but she begins to strum again, the members taking her cue to continue the song. She turns the microphone on the stand towards Ava, the crowd abandoned.

I don't want to do this without you

I don't want to do this if you're just a ghost in the night

I tried everything to fill up the void that you left me with

My phantom

She nods and Beatrice does the same, the significance of the charged moment sits between them. Beatrice turns back to the crowd, the mask taking over again. Ava whirls to Alice who is scream-whispering into Levy's ear conspiratorially, like they’re up to something.

“Let’s go,” is all she says before gripping Alice’s arm and heading back into the crowd as The Cruciforms finish the song.

Don't want to do this without you

Don't want to do this if you're locked away in my mind

I tried everything to fill up the void that you left me with

My phantom

—

Night has descended upon the festival grounds by the time Beatrice and the band make it to Ava’s stage. Levy had rushed ahead to safeguard spaces near the front of the expansive grounds, something that should be suspicious given that he has hated every second of today, hates all the sweaty smelly bodies gyrating in his vicinity and the loud music. They’re all with her though, for support. Everyone is here to support her and Ava except Camila, who is here for purely selfish reasons.

When they reach Levy he points at her head judgmentally. “Ava likes it,” is all she says. She has the reindeer antlers on, this is for Ava. He pats her on the back encouragingly.

The stage is dark apart from the purple screen spanning across the raised platform. The crowd has had intermittent moments of pure chaotic screaming followed by chants of Ava’s name. All that can be heard is white noise coming from all the speakers spread across the festival grounds.

“I can be calm.” Camila who is beside her has jumped at every noise in anticipation. She’s spreading her time between shouting into Yasmine’s ear to pulling Beatrice’s arm. “Come on you stupid delayed start!”

The purple screen shifts slightly catching everyone’s attention and the cheers erupt again. It begins to spaz more frequently now as the white noise changes to something deeper, more monstrous sounding. A motorcycle's noise cuts across the speakers and a flash spreads across the stage, making it appear as if the vehicle has sped by.

“Oh my God!” Camila yells, pulling on her hand again.

Beatrice’s heart begins to pulsate in her chest. The screen goes black as more motorcycle noises are followed by more flashes of light. Then, a noise that sounds jarring, almost like metallic ocean waves crashing into rocks. Dancers emerge from backstage all wearing white glowing motorcycle helmets, the only indication of movement in the otherwise black void that is the stage. They stand at the dead centre, arms crossed menacingly. The noise continues to get louder and LOUDER.

Beatrice can see a different style helmet arrive at the back of the dancers. It’s Ava, she’s sure of it. Everyone on stage twists their heads left to right then they begin to move forward, shoulders dragging up and down with each step.

The speakers blare, noise so loud that she can’t even distinguish what she’s hearing anymore. And suddenly the dancers part at the centre as the lights pulsate, half left and half right, making Ava the focal point. She’s wearing a full body black Lycra suit, a white corset-like leather vest, and knee length high heel boots. The crowd absolutely loses their minds and she can’t even distinguish between the screaming and the noise of the concert at this point. Camila to her left has ascended, trying to crawl up Beatrice’s shoulder for more height.

A monotone drone takes over the speakers as Ava begins to slowly walk to the front of the stage, hands coming to the helmet around her head, removing it in one smooth motion. She looks down and smiles as ‘Saoko’ begins to play. She steps up to the last two dancers on each side, eyes piercing the crowd in front of her. There’s no expression on her face as confidence emanates out of her.

Beatrice has never seen Ava command the stage like this, as if it’s made for her, purely constructed for her presence and her presence alone. This is on another level, left behind are the flamenco standards and moderate pop elements. She had heard the album and all its experimental nature, and even at the time of its conception she hadn’t truly appreciated it enough. She’s truly amazing .

(*)

Ava’s piercing eyes break its gaze upon the audience for only a moment as she hands the helmet to the dancer on the left, bringing the microphone to her mouth and she begins to sing, “ Chica, ¿qué dices? Hey ! ”. She spreads her arms out anticipating the audience's replies of ‘Saoko, papi, saoko’. “Chicago, ¿qué dices?! ”

Saoko, papi, saoko!

The crowd replies in much the same way as Ava continues to interact with them, making her way across the stage and then going back to the middle in line with her dancers and begins to rap all while following a difficult choreography.

Cuando es de noche en el cielo

(When it’s night time in the sky)

Y se vuelve de día, ya to' eso cambió

(And it turns into day, now everything has changed)

Cuando el caballo entra a Troya

(When the horse enters Troy)

Tú te confías y ardió, uh, no

(You got cocky and it burns, uh, no)

Every time Ava sings the audience screams back at her with such an intensity that Beatrice can feel the goosebumps erupt all over her skin. And all at once she gets it. To be fair she has been getting it, she knows just how powerful of a performer Ava is, but this is incredible. She’s pretty sure if her jaw wasn’t currently attached by an intricate muscular and tendon mixture it would be on the dirt covered festival ground below her. This Ava is spellbinding to behold. A natural artist.

The album’s reception has been unbelievable. Both critics and fans alike praising it endlessly, lauding every second of it. Camila has had it on repeat the last three months (the only exception being the one song… Mmm, hentai ) and she knew it had remained in the number one spot in every chart since its release. Their own album trailing closely behind.

She whips her head downwards, examining her shoes during the jazz section of the song because what Ava is doing is whipping everyone in the crowd into a frenzy, into a state of being Beatrice would rather not think about. Doesn’t want to acknowledge just how many people are thinking the same thoughts she is.

Si ere' la pámpara, nada te…

…pue' parar!

(If you’re the best, nothing can…)

(...stop you!)

Si ere' la pámpara, nada te…

…pue' parar!

(If you’re the best, nothing can…)

(...stop you!)

Ava’s set is a mixture of new and old sounds, flawlessly compiled to keep the energy high. It’s halfway through the song list that Ava begins to show signs of fatigue, but she doesn’t let it bother her, she continues to dance just as intensely as the background dancers and her voice, to Beatrice’s knowledge, has not wavered once. Her hair is the only sign of the immense activity happening on stage with sweat pulling at the roots of Ava’s shoulder length hair. She has pushed her hair multiple times to different sides, moving it off her face but the amount of movement just keeps bouncing it back.

Ava is having fun as well, she’s smiling joyously and is in her element, but Beatrice knows, deep inside Ava must be exhausted. When the current song ends she stands in place, chest rising and falling with a great deal of effort. The dancers around her are holding their spots right hand stretched to the side, fingers delicate. Ava mirrors them, eyes fixated on the crowd. Her expression once lively changes to something more serious.

A song begins as the dancers step away, Beatrice doesn’t recognise this song, it’s not on the album, it’s not a release she knows. One of the dancers brings a microphone stand for Ava and she places her microphone into it. Before the dancer goes he hands her something. Beatrice needs to look at the immense screens on either side of the stage to make out what it is.

It’s a bracelet. Ava puts it on without much preamble as the camera focuses on her face instead. Her left hand comes forward as the song starts, and she begins to do a choreographed sort of clap that sounds reminiscent of a heartbeat. Beatrice can see it now, it’s a silver bracelet with what should be two charms hanging from it, but she knows exactly what the charms are, they’re the two broken pieces of her amber flower. The elation she feels is palpable. She’s turned their broken hair tie into something beautiful.

(*)

El que quiero no me quiere como quiero que me quiera

(Who I love doesn’t love me how I want them to love me)

Hoy termina la condena

(This imprisonment ends today)

Me diviertes, maybe tú eres el que me libera

(You delight me, maybe you’re who frees me)

Y es que hoy es carnaval

(And today is carnival)

Yo soy de aquí y tú eres de allá

(I’m from here and you’re from there)

Lo diré en inglés y me entenderás, mmh

(I’ll say it in English so you’ll understand me)

Camila’s mouth is ajar as she turns towards Beatrice and looks at her.

Ava turns to her left facing the camera there rather than the audience and dancers stand behind her doing a simple choreography as she moves her hand again. This is intentional. Ava has planned this. She deliberately chose to put on the bracelet and show it on screen for Beatrice to see.

I don't need honesty

Baby, lie like you love me, lie like you love me

Cover me in a dream

I'll be yours or fantasy

Who needs the honesty?

Baby, lie like you love me, lie like you love me

Maybe at the end

It becomes real enough for me

Beatrice feels a sinking feeling take over her. Oh no.

When did Ava write this? What is Ava saying? Beatrice is confused, is this a happy song? Ava is wearing a bracelet with their flower and yet… Is this a sad song?

Ay, dame esa, esa pulsera de flores

(Oh, give me that, that flower bracelet)

Me la pondré en la muñeca

(I’ll put it on my wrist)

Cuando despierte, así yo lo sabré

(When I wake up, that way I’ll know)

Así yo lo sabré, yo sabré que fue real

(That way I’ll know, I’ll know it was real)

Será mi tótem, lo sabes tú y nadie más

(It’ll be my totem, you will know, but no one else will)

Camila grabs her wrist so tightly and shakes it in the air to get her attention all while pointing at her jade hair tie, “IT IS ABOUT YOU!” Camila says shooting her a dirty look.

“Is it a happy or sad song?!”

“What do you think, you idiot!” Camila releases her hand roughly. “You’ve fucked up big time!”

She starts to panic as the final chorus rings around the festival solidifying the meaning of the song. Ava is singing about unrequited love, where she’s asking Beatrice to love her reciprocally. This isn’t right. This is not how Ava should feel. Ava shouldn’t feel this vulnerable. She shouldn’t feel like Beatrice doesn’t return her love, that Ava just wants to make believe that she does. And yet Beatrice doesn’t blame her because she too would doubt their love given her actions.

The bracelet represents a piece of their love that she wears to keep their feelings alive, hoping or begging Beatrice to wear hers as well.

The song ends and the crowd goes wild having just heard the song for the very first time.

“You guys liked that one?” Ava speaks into the microphone when there’s a lull in the cheers, which ends up causing even more screams. Beatrice feels like she’s choking from the mounting pain and panic welling up inside of her. Levy pats her head awkwardly. Ava is handed a bottle of water. She drinks from it as the dancers leave the stage. The bottle is set down somewhere on the side of the stage as Ava walks back to the very front at the dead center. “We’ve come to the part of the night where I take requests.”

Everyone starts screaming all at once, song titles are thrown around with abandon, even Camila and Yasmine join in. Ava’s head bounces from person to person, in-ears off at her shoulders. She smiles a few times, but doesn’t seem to like any of the suggestions.

“Hero? The Spanish version is better, I’ll do the Spanish one.” The crowd cheers recognising the song. Ava turns to her pianist who just nods in return.

Ava sits down on the stage and crosses her legs, putting her in-ears in again as the piano begins to play.

(*)

Si una vez yo pudiera llegar a erizar de frio tu piel

(If I can once more make your skin erupt with goosebumps)

A quemar, que se yo… tu boca y morirme alli despues

(to burn, I don't know… your lips and die there afterwards)

Ava’s eyes are closed as she sings the ballad. The stage has dimmed and there’s a singular spotlight on her. Everyone around Beatrice has popped out their phones and turned the flashlight on, arms swaying from side to side. This song Beatrice knows, or knows the English version, but she has a feeling the Spanish lyrics are probably completely different.

Y si entonces temblaras por mi

(And if then you'll tremble for me)

Y lloraras al verme sufrir

(And you'll cry when you see me suffer)

Y sin dudar tu vida entera dar como yo la doy por ti

(And without hesitation give your whole life like I would for you)

Ava’s eyes easily find hers, as if she’s known all along where she is in the crowd. A tender smile comes to her face, no doubt spotting the antlers. Hope starts to creep up again, the potential of maybe seeing Ava afterwards takes over every thought in her brain. What does she say? How does she get backstage? Alice. Alice would need to play ball and from their last interaction it doesn’t seem like she’d be too keen on that. Maybe she can use Levy as a distraction, he could talk circles around Alice and she can sneak past.

Si pudiera ser tu heroe

(If I could be your hero)

Si pudiera ser tu dios

(If I could be your God)

Que salvarte a ti mil veces puede ser mi salvación

(Because saving you a thousand times could be my salvation)

Now Ava angles herself directly in Beatrice’s direction almost as if she wants to sing the words to her and her alone. Ava’s voice begins to crack and she can’t seem to hold her gaze. The crowd cheers and Ava turns away from her, from them, in a moment of privacy as she continues to sing the lyrics which are clearly having an effect on her.

Si supieras la locura que llevo

(If you only knew the insanity I carry)

Que me hiere y me mata por dentro

(That aches and kills me inside)

Y que mas da, mira, que al final lo que importa es que te quiero

(And what does it matter, look, in the end what matters is that I love you)

Quiero ser tu héroe

(I want to be your hero)

Si pudiera ser tu dios

(If I could be your God)

Porque salvarte a ti mil veces puede ser mi salvación

(Because saving you a thousand times could be my salvation)

puede ser mi salvación

(It could be my salvation)

The spotlight dims and Ava steps to the side of the stage. She returns a few minutes later looking composed. The set continues and the crowd cheers unaffected. Unlike her. Unlike Ava.

When Ava’s set finishes, she grips Levy’s hand and all but bodily pulls him to the side of the stage behind the barriers where a few workers are already taking things apart. She’s struggling to find Alice’s blonde head in the midst of people gathered backstage. There’s a cluster of people and she can make out Ava’s white vest among them. She’s on the floor, an oxygen canister beside her, a long tube extending from it into a mask on her face. Before she can even think about what she’s doing she has one leg over the temporary fence and a security guard has grabbed ahold of her and is pushing her.

“Beatrice!” Levy cries out grabbing her arm.

“She can’t do that!” The security guard yells man-handling her off the fence.

It’s enough of a commotion that both Ava and Alice turn in their direction. Alice hurries to them, hands outstretched to keep Beatrice from getting hurt. “It’s okay, she’s okay, stop pushing her. Beatrice! What are you doing?!”

“Is Ava hurt? She’s hurt!” She says in distress. Levy is helping her off the fence, but her death grip on the fence is so strong that he gives up halfway and just starts to push her back over while Alice is pushing in the other direction.

“She’s not hurt, she’s fine, she just needs to catch her breath.” Alice replies, and with one final Herculean shove from Alice she’s off the fence and being propped up by Levy alone, which means she’s on the floor as he struggles under her weight. “You need to leave.”

“No! I want to see her, Alice.” She manages to clamber back up, hands on the fence again, ready to spring over.

Alice nods once, then says, “Yes, I know that, but Beatrice she doesn’t want to see you. This is not the right moment. She needs space. She needs time. You know this.” Beatrice releases her grip on the fence, taking a few steps back in resignation. “Levy, give Beatrice my number. You can reach out to me.”

She nods, because that’s all she can do. Before she turns to go she looks behind Alice, hoping for a glimpse of Ava, but she’s gone.

“Can I just say that this is a very loaded Sex and the City moment.” Levy speaks up, trying to lighten the mood. He points in Alice’s direction with a fake angry scowl before saying, “I curse the day you were born!” Alice laughs, Beatrice manages a small chuckle and he rolls his eyes.

—

(*)

Like a flower waiting to bloom

Like a light bulb in a dark room

Ava sits at her upright piano in her office, trailing her fingers around the keys. She’s been sitting there for hours, tinkering with various melodies, in her pajama shorts, a beige sports bra with a white dress shirt over the top, occupying herself on a rare day off.

In the background, Nina Simone plays softly through her speakers, the faint pops and crackles of the record sounding as the vinyl spins.

Outside, Madrid is experiencing a rare bout of a Summer storm. Thunder has been cracking overhead and lightning lancing across the vista through her balcony all morning and now torrential rain is hammering the streets.

The atmosphere is reflective of her general mood.

My poor heart, it’s been so dark

Since you’ve been gone

After all you’re the one that turned me off

Now you’re the only one that can turn me back on, uh

Ava furrows her brow, pausing her movements as she listens again.

Distinctly she hears it again. A knock. Several knocks at her door.

She’s not expecting anyone. Has expressly asked Alice and Emilia to not contact her today unless it's urgent.

Shuffling off the piano stool hesitantly, Ava lowers the lid on her piano exiting her office and approaches the door of her apartment. Cautiously she sneaks a peek through the peephole. A wet mop of hair as the head hangs forward, a soaked figure in a brown houndstooth jacket and jeans. It couldn’t be… not here . Absolutely not . And yet her heart is screaming at her to open the door.

Ava grasps the doorknob, half praying it’s an apparition of her own melancholy, half hoping it’s what she fears.

She eases the door open.

The head jolts up.

She looks like a drowned rat.

“Hi.”

#avatrice #warrior nun #ava silva #sister beatrice #liturgia

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whencyclopedia · 1 year ago

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Sword Beach

Sword Beach was the easternmost beach of the Allied D-Day Normandy landings of 6 June 1944. The 3rd British Infantry Division was given the task of taking the beach while paratroopers and Royal Marine and French Commando units secured the beach exits and the eastern flank of the Allied invasion.

Operation Overlord

The amphibious assault on the beaches of Normandy was the first stage of Operation Overlord, which sought to free Western Europe from occupation by Nazi Germany. The supreme commander of the Allied invasion force was General Dwight D. Eisenhower (1890-1969) who had been in charge of the Allied operations in the Mediterranean. The commander-in-chief of the Normandy land forces, 39 divisions in all, was the experienced General Bernard Montgomery (1887-1976). Commanding the air element was Air Chief Marshal Trafford Leigh Mallory (1892-1944), with the naval element commanded by Admiral Bertram Ramsay (1883-1945).

Nazi Germany had long prepared for an Allied invasion, but the German high command was unsure where exactly such an invasion would take place. Allied diversionary strategies added to the uncertainty, but the most likely places remained either the Pas de Calais, the closest point to British shores, or Normandy with its wide flat beaches. The Nazi leader Adolf Hitler (1889-1945) attempted to fortify the entire coast from Spain to the Netherlands with a series of bunkers, pillboxes, artillery batteries, and troops, but this Atlantic Wall, as he called it, was far from being complete in the summer of 1944. In addition, the wall was thin since there was no real depth to the defences.

Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt (1875-1953), commander-in-chief of the German army in the West, believed it would be impossible to stop an invasion on the coast and so it would be better to hold the bulk of the defensive forces as a mobile reserve to counterattack against enemy beachheads. Field Marshal Erwin Rommel (1891-1944), commander of Army Group B, disagreed and considered it essential to halt any invasion on the beaches themselves. Further, Rommel believed that Allied air superiority meant that movements of reserves would be severely hampered. Hitler agreed with Rommel, and so the defenders were strung out wherever the fortifications were at their weakest. Rommel improved the static defences and added steel anti-tank structures to all the larger beaches. In the end, Rundstedt was given a mobile reserve, but the compromise weakened both plans of defence. The German response would not be helped either by their confused command structure, which meant that Rundstedt could not call on any armour (but Rommel, who reported directly to Hitler, could), and neither commander had any control over the paltry naval and air forces available or the separately controlled coastal batteries. Nevertheless, the defences were bulked up around the weaker defences of Normandy to an impressive 31 infantry divisions plus 10 armoured divisions and 7 reserve infantry divisions. The German army had another 13 divisions in other areas of France. A standard German division had a full strength of 15,000 men.

#History #SwordBeach #D-Day #NormandyLandings

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corner-stories · 1 year ago

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i'd miss you more

Mikasa Ackerman. Jean Kirschtein. Bathroom Conversations. Opportunities. Rescue Dogs. Grad School AU. 1658 words. (ao3.)

Mikasa stands in the bedroom, methodically removing her day clothes for something more comfortable. At this point in her life her routine is set in stone, down to how she always takes off her late father’s wristwatch first and places it on her nightstand, right beside her phone.

A wall separates her from her significant other, a position they’ve been in dozens of times before. The buzzing noise of his razor is all she needs to hear to envision what he’s doing.

In her mind she can practically see Jean touching up his beard like the peacock he is, ensuring that both sides are neat and symmetrical. He does this often, making sure that the length perfectly exudes the energy of someone who invests too much time into primping. She doesn’t expect anything less.

After tossing her dirty clothes in the hamper Mikasa reaches for her preferred sleepwear. Folded neatly at the back of their closet is a two-piece pyjama set — a gift from Jean’s mother that she tends to gravitate towards more often. She grabs the top of the set before pulling it over her torso, the hem reaching the mid-point of her thighs.

As she undoes her ponytail and lets her hair flow free, Mikasa continues her conversation with her significant other. The topic regards the flurry of excited text he had sent her throughout the day, messages regarding an opportunity that had been presented to him hours before.

“Do you mean Brussels, Belgium?!” she asks, speaking loud enough for her voice to carry from the bedroom to the bathroom.

“No! Brussels, Wisconsin!” Jean’s disembodied voice replies, utilizing his trademark snark. “It’s beautiful this time of year!”

Mikasa hums as she runs her hand through her hair, then moves barefoot across the floor and exits the bedroom. She crosses the main space of their apartment, making sure to pet the rescue dog napping on the couch. Katsu the terrier mix wakes upon feeling his master’s touch, soon letting out a yawn and stretching his stubby legs. He proceeds to hop to the floor and follow Mikasa’s steps.

When she enters the bathroom Jean is standing in front of the sink, having removed most of work clothes as well in favour of a very fashionable bath towel, a garment he has tied around his waist. To the surprise of no one he’s taking his razor to his beard, and to Mikasa’s relief he’s catching the trimmings with a strategically placed hand towel on the counter.

“But nothing’s finalized yet,” Jean assures, keeping his eyes on his reflection. “It’s not like they asked me to make the choice then and there.”

Mikasa nods as she reaches for her hairbrush. She runs it through her hair as she stands next to Jean, taking a moment to contemplate the information he’s giving her.

On one hand it’s an incredible opportunity. Grad students taking internships is far from unheard of, but it’s the first time she’s heard of one that would take a person across the pond. Then again, she’s not in Jean’s field of study — perhaps the world of sleep-deprived, over-caffeinated aspiring architects differs greatly from her own.

He tells it like so — some Belgian McGill alum from back in the stone age had created a program with his alma mater. It was conceived as a healthy mix between an internship and a study abroad program, allowing depressed grad students an opportunity to fetch coffee at a Brussels-based firm for a summer. A stipend is provided to assist with room and board, as well as to compensate successful applicants for their time.

Unsurprisingly, the opportunity had been the only thing Jean was able to talk about the second she came home. Even the gleeful texts he had sent her throughout the day had been brimming with excitement.

At the moment he looks a lot more mellow, though the news still has him in good spirits.

“What do you have to do to get in?” Mikasa asks, her gaze meeting him through the reflection of the mirror.

“Typical stuff,” he answers, shrugging. “Portfolio, resume, letters of recommendation, and an interview.”

She nods her head. “And why’d your advisor recommend you in particular?”

Jean smirks. “Because unlike most McGill students, I can speak French.”

With a playful touch she elbows him, this time aiming for his hip. The gesture makes him chuckle, and to that Mikasa rolls her eyes.

As she continues to brush her hair and he continues his manly primping, Mikasa notices something peculiar in the bathroom mirror’s reflection. Behind them their adorable rescue dog is using the toilet in a way that most sane humans would not. Apparently, Katsu seems to think that anything filled with water must be his own personal drinking bowl, and if nothing can stop him from quenching his thirst then he will, goddammit.

“Katsu, no!” Jean’s quick to say, setting his razor on the counter and turning around. He kneels down to pick up the terrier mix sticking its head in the toilet. “You kiss your mother with that mouth, là?”

A smile tugs at Mikasa’s face as she watches him carry a very confused Katsu out of the bathroom, setting the dog down and making sure to close the door behind them.

When Jean returns to the counter he grabs his clippers and restarts his routine. It’s only then when Mikasa notices the bigger trimmings dropping onto the towel. When she looks at her boyfriend again she sees him removing larger sections of his beard, causing him to look more boyish than she’s ever seen him before.

“You’re not shaving it off, are you?” she asks, concerned.

Jean lets out a sigh. “I gotta. When I met the guy today I looked like a goddamn dumpster fire.” He turns towards her, looking as ridiculous as one does with exactly half their facial hair removed. “I’m seeing him again tomorrow at this whole networking thing and I swear, my advisor was trying to find a nice way to say — ‘Please make yourself look presentable.’”

He goes back to his manly primping as Mikasa tries to think of the last time she had seen him clean shaven, then comes to the conclusion that such memory does not exist. She remembers him wearing some kind of facial hair from the moment they met, back when she first arrived in Montreal and only knew him as Sasha’s weird guy friend who muttered “tabernacle” at every inconvenience.

Even in summer he sports some kind of stylish stubble, something that’s always hard to miss. Now he’s here, standing next to her in their shared bathroom as he shaves off his beard.

After giving herself a moment to mourn the loss of Jean’s scruffy look, another thought comes to her mind, a realization that she hasn’t made until now.

“So… if you get the internship,” she starts, putting down her hairbrush. “You’ll be gone all summer?”

Jean finishes shaving and switches off his trimmer. He eyes her again, this time wearing a knowing look on his handsome face.

“There’s no guarantee that I’ll get it, but yeah,” he confirms. He sets his trimmer on the counter. “It’s just two months though.”

“I know,” Mikasa replies as she avoids his gaze. She busies herself with other parts of her nightly routine, reaching for her cleanser like it’s just another day. “I’d still miss you.”

And she speaks from her truth. She’s grown too used to existing in his atmosphere. Even on the occasions where she’s out of the apartment all day, coming home to see him either working at his desk or relaxing on the couch with Katsu has become a familiar sight, something that comforts her like a blanket on a cold night. It’s an assurance to her, a sign that some things will be constant even when their world feels like anything but.

She knows nothing is set in stone, but if everything works in Jean’s favour then she will support him without a doubt. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she didn’t.

Sure, the apartment would feel emptier and Katsu will be attending daycare more often, but the opportunity is too good to pass up. Who is she to tell Jean that he cannot make the transition from disposable grad student to disposable intern?

But for a moment she lets herself wonder what a summer without him will look like, a summer without him sketching on the balcony or letting her rest her head on his shoulder as they relax in a local park.

When Mikasa refocuses on her reality she sees Jean grinning. He’s leaning on the counter very slightly as the look in his eyes softens.

“I figured,” he tells her, and when he speaks his voice is gentle. “Wouldn’t want to leave you in a sad little Jean-less world.”

To that she rolls her eyes again, continuing to avoid his gaze as she replies to him dryly.

“Okay.”

“But I’d miss you more,” he makes sure to say, like a final touch on a painting or the finishing note of a song.

Suddenly Mikasa’s face feels warmer. She continues to look away from him, hoping that she can somewhat obscure the blush coming to her cheeks. Her reflection in the mirror makes her efforts futile, as Jean’s kindly smile makes it clear what he sees.

But instead of teasing his significant other more, Jean turns around and heads to the shower. He turns it on, then as the water runs he disposes of the trimmings on the counter like the good significant other he is. Then once that’s done he pulls the towel from his waist, hanging it on a nearby hook.

Through the reflection in the mirror Mikasa watches him enter the shower, looking very disrespectfully at one thing and one thing only.

And it’s only then when Mikasa realizes exactly what she might be giving up for an entire summer.

#jeankasa #jeanmika #jean kirschtein #jean kirstein #mikasa ackerman #mikasa ackermann #snk #modern au #grad school au #katsu the dog #i do enjoy writing JK being cute and domestic #it's what they deserve

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ddrao · 1 month ago

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The CHALLENGE of TIME

From the beginning man wanted to better his position As he was not satisfied with whatever was his stature; He imagined something better and felt there was Attraction in building up a bright new future; The end of becoming better was implicit in the structure Of thought as it is base of self-interest, the “Me” factor: Outwardly i.e., technologically man has evolved and the Human mind can solve any problem of that nature; Inwardly it gives rise to endless conflict as it builds up an Egotistic centre as we force on ourselves something we are not: Our clinging to habits & attitudes as we continue for Grace & peace Of mind causes conflict as we desire two things at the same time.

As the same scenario continues even now, TIME throws up a Challenge as to What impression you would leave before your exit; As a first step, whatever the present moment offers take it As a calling to build up your career pending your future plans; Time is precious; you have no time to lose as the saying goes, “Time and tide waits for no man”; So utilise time well with in your span; Organise your work by identifying your priorities and by allotting Time judiciously to obtain the desired results: Once the work is ready, start it Now as any time you start The work is auspicious, Assess your weaknesses that may hamper work and avoid them Even in thinking until the work is completely & satisfactorily done.

Focus full attention on work on hand by keeping aside all Unnecessary activities such as arguments, politics or phones; Stress is natural at home and work, excessive stress can have Negative impact, stress levels can be managed with mindfulness; Your positive attitude, self-confidence and powerful affirmations Like I am healthy, I am capable, I can do it …work wonders; When you fine tune yourself and really love the work you do, You will be surprised to find free flow into work all your abilities; Face problems if any with fortitude and go ahead with work With determination and a firm attitude of “ Never give up “; For improvement in work, you need to own responsibility, For any mistakes that might have unknowingly cropped up.

#poetry #my writing #affirmations #career #challenge #grace #love #mind #peace #time

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nikoshinigami · 2 months ago

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I love getting comments on my work, but there is one title that I almost dread getting comments on because it is mostly done by people who don't know what "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings" means and want to complain about things not being tagged--something that that content warning specifically warns readers about. The fact that at no point did they feel inclined to tell me they were enjoying my work, but suddenly had the spoons to engage when they were outraged over the content they opted into when they ignored the content warning is beyond irritating.

In some instances, tags will completely alter the reading experience. In this particular fic, one part of the end-game pairing is married off in a political marriage to an OC who is physically larger, brutish, and very affectionate with his new, surly husband. If this fic were to have a rape tag, because of tropes, readers would not give that OC the same chance to be a character that they would without the tag--deciding his guilt based on the tag and not the narrative. Said character is actually a fantastic, caring, and gentle husband who dies before the tag offense is carried out by a different antagonist who enters the story at his exit. The husband does not live to be redeemed for a crime he never commits in the reader's mind, but would likely be judged for in his time in the story, keeping the reader from engaging with the character in the same way the actual narrative does--slowly revealing him to be more than he appears to be and earning the grief in his loss.

Writing involves more than the story being told; it's an experience curated by the author. Some stories are unaffected by giving away certain elements, some experiences are heightened when you know what's coming before the characters do, and sometimes knowing more than the character fundamentally hampers the ability to make an emotional connection with the narrative. I've always appreciated that Ao3 understands this and provided "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings" as an option to let people know a work is not guaranteed to be free of sensitive content without claiming its inclusion one way or the other. It's a genius content warning that allows for ambiguity while still operating as a deterrent to those who have a hard stance regarding the content they consume--or at least it would if readers paid attention and stopped confusing it as being synonymous with not having any applicable content warnings. By context alone, clicking anything with that orange box should tell readers that graphic depictions of violence, major character death, rape/non-con, and underage sex are all possibilities in the story as those are what make up the archive content warnings.

Anyway, just tired of the excitement of getting a comment turning to annoyance when yet another person fails to take personal responsibility for their own mistakes in ignoring the "Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings" warning.

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marketwire · 1 year ago

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Hydrogen Fuel Cell Vehicle Market - Forecast(2024 - 2030)

Hydrogen Fuel Cell Vehicle Market Size was valued at USD 0.72 billion in 2021. The Hydrogen Fuel Cell Vehicle market industry is projected to grow from USD 1.2 Billion in 2022 to USD 46.8 billion by 2030, exhibiting a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 68.52% during the forecast period (2024–2030). Hydrogen fuel cell vehicles are specially designed vehicles that are powered through hydrogen acting as a fuel and are used to supply power to the electric motors installed within them, thus ensuring emission free vehicle transmission. Vehicle powered with hydrogen fuel cells includes a reverse electrolysis process wherein hydrogen reacts with oxygen, thus producing electricity to power electric motors along with heat and water. The heat & water generated during this process exits through the exhaust as water vapor, thereby leading to zero or no emission.

Key Developments in Hydrogen Fuel Cell Vehicle Industry

In September 2023, Toyota Motor Corporation launched a prototype hydrogen fuel cell electric Hilux. This technology helps to accelerate the development of hydrogen fuel cell solutions to deliver carbon neutrality across the region. It uses core elements from the Toyota Mirai hydrogen fuel cell electric sedan – technology that has proved its quality in almost 10 years of commercial production.

In July 2023, Ballard Power Systems, Inc. signed an agreement with Ford Trucks to supply a fuel cell system as part of the development of a hydrogen fuel cell-powered vehicle prototype. This strategy includes an initial purchase order for 2 FCmoveTM.-XD 120 kW fuel cell engines that are planned to be delivered by Ballard to Ford Trucks in 2023. Furthermore, Ford Trucks plans to develop a Fuel Cell Electric Vehicle (FCEV) F-MAX as part of the project.

In July 2023, Ballard Power Systems, Inc. received orders for a total of 96 hydrogen fuel cell engines from long-standing customer Solaris Bus & Coach sp. z o.o. The purchase orders include 52 fuel cell engines that will power Solaris Urbino hydrogen buses for deployment by public transport in Germany and 44 fuel cell engines that will power Solaris buses in European cities.

In January 2022, General Motors (GM) planned to broaden electrification, by expanding fuel cells beyond vehicles. It also continues to accelerate its growth as a platform innovator and has announced new commercial applications of its HYDROTEC fuel cell technology. HYDROTEC projects, which are currently in development, from heavy-duty trucks to aerospace and locomotives, are being planned for use beyond vehicles for power generation.

Downlaod report sample

Lack of refueling infrastructure for HFCV

The lack of refueling infrastructure for HFCV in most of the countries is due to the limited number of hydrogen refueling stations. For instance, in 2020, globally the hydrogen refueling stations are less than 800, which hampers the growth of HFCV vehicle sales. Furthermore, in many developing countries such as Brazil, African countries, and other countries limited presence of hydrogen vehicles and high cost for development which are also impact the growth of HFCV market. The development of HFCV in underdeveloped countries is slower than in developed countries.

Rise in adoption of HFCV in development economies

Increase in adoption of clean mobility solutions is observed globally due to climatic changes. Continuous usage of fossil fuels in automobiles is a major factor resulting in climate change. Vehicles that run on alternative fuels, such as natural gas, electricity, biofuel, biodiesel, fuel cell, liquid nitrogen, and dimethyl ether result in lesser carbon emissions. Increasing environmental concerns among consumers, introduction of stringent emission regulations, and launch of advanced vehicles supporting alternative fuels are expected to increase the adoption of alternative fuel and hybrid vehicle market during the forecast period.

Purchase report

Key players :

The key players profiled in the hydrogen fuel cell vehicle market share include General Motors Company, HONDA MOTOR Co., Ltd, AUDI AG, Ballard Power Systems, Inc., BMW Group, Daimler AG, Hyundai Motor Group, MAN SE, Toyota Motor Corp., and Volvo Group which have been operating in the industry & are developing strategies & products for the growth of the market.

#Hydrogen Fuel Cell Vehicle Market #Hydrogen Fuel Cell Vehicle Market share #Hydrogen Fuel Cell Vehicle Market size

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commercialjunkremoval · 1 year ago

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The Benefits of Commercial Junk Removal Services

In the bustling world of commerce, clutter can quickly accumulate, transforming a once-organized workspace into a chaotic environment that stifles productivity and creativity. Fortunately, commercial junk removal services offer a lifeline to businesses seeking to reclaim their space and restore order to their surroundings. This article will explore the myriad benefits of commercial junk removal services and how they can help businesses transition from chaos to cleanliness.

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The accumulation of clutter is a common problem in commercial settings, as businesses acquire obsolete equipment, outdated inventory, and unused items over time. Commercial junk removal services specialize in efficiently clearing clutter, freeing up valuable space, and revitalizing the workspace. By removing unnecessary items, businesses can create a more organized and functional environment that promotes productivity and efficiency.

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A cluttered workspace poses numerous safety hazards, ranging from trip and fall risks to obstructed emergency exits. Commercial junk removal services prioritize safety by removing clutter and debris, reducing the risk of accidents and injuries. Additionally, clearing out clutter improves accessibility to essential resources, ensuring that employees can quickly locate and access the tools they need to perform their jobs efficiently. By enhancing safety and accessibility, businesses can create a more secure and productive work environment that promotes a positive work environment.

A clean and organized workspace significantly impacts employee morale and job satisfaction. Commercial junk removal services help businesses create a positive work environment by removing clutter and creating a more pleasant and inviting atmosphere. An organized workspace promotes a sense of pride and professionalism among employees, leading to improved morale, increased motivation, and higher job satisfaction. By investing in commercial junk removal services, businesses can foster a culture of excellence and create a more conducive environment for success.

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The appearance of your workspace reflects the image and values of your business. A cluttered and disorganized workspace can create a negative impression on clients, customers, and visitors, potentially damaging your brand reputation and credibility. Commercial junk removal services help businesses enhance their brand image by presenting a clean, organized, professional workspace. A well-maintained environment instills confidence in clients and customers and reinforces your commitment to excellence and quality. By investing in commercial junk removal services, businesses can enhance their brand image and position themselves for success in today's competitive marketplace.

Environmental Responsibility

Proper disposal of junk and debris is essential for businesses to fulfill their environmental responsibilities. Commercial junk removal services employ eco-friendly practices to ensure that unwanted items are disposed of in an environmentally responsible manner. This may include recycling, donating usable items to charity, and properly disposing of hazardous materials. Businesses can minimize their environmental footprint by choosing reputable commercial junk removal services and contribute to a cleaner and healthier planet.

Commercial junk removal services offer businesses a comprehensive solution for clearing clutter and revitalizing their workspace. By removing unnecessary items, maximizing space utilization, enhancing safety and accessibility, promoting a positive work environment, improving brand image, and fulfilling environmental responsibilities, commercial junk removal services help businesses transition from chaos to cleanliness. With their focus on efficiency, safety, and ecological responsibility, commercial junk removal services provide businesses with the tools they need to thrive and succeed in today's competitive business environment.

#home #junk removal

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iamhiroshitrading · 1 year ago

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News and Market Analysis: The Best Trading Platforms with Integrated Real-Time Features

From the bustling streets of Tokyo to the serene temples of Kyoto, Japan stands at the forefront of technological innovation — a trait that extends into the realms of Forex trading. As a trader in this dynamic market, the quest for a platform that melds real-time news and market analysis with unparalleled trading features has been paramount in my journey. This search led me to a revelation that has not only refined my trading approach but revolutionized it: the integration of real-time features in trading platforms and the discovery of the 80% Winning Strategy at Orion Trading Academy.

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Real-time news updates and market analysis have become indispensable tools in my arsenal. They allow me to stay ahead of market trends, understand the implications of global economic events, and adjust my strategies accordingly. This edge is vital in navigating the Forex market’s complexities, where success hinges on the timeliness and accuracy of the information.

The 80% Winning Strategy: My Keystone

Amidst these essential platform features, the 80% Winning Strategy, discovered at Orion Trading Academy, has been a cornerstone of my trading success. This strategy, with its impressive win rate, has offered me:

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Time Efficiency: The strategy’s integration into a lifestyle that values both productivity and personal pursuits, requiring no more than 4 hours a day.

Risk Management: An integrated approach to managing risks, freeing me from the indecision that often hampers traders, and allowing me to concentrate on growth and strategy.

Conclusion: A Harmonious Blend of Technology and Strategy

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As a trader where the fusion of tradition and innovation shapes our worldview, I find that the best trading platforms are those that not only provide cutting-edge tools but also embrace strategies that lead to tangible success. The journey with Orion Trading Academy, illuminated by the 80% Winning Strategy, is a testament to the power of blending advanced platform features with deep strategic understanding. This approach has not only enhanced my trading journey but has set a new standard for what I expect from a trading platform.

#forexsignals #forex #currency #forexmentor #currencyexchange #us currency

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infinite-orangepeel · 2 years ago

Note

Steddie accidental voyeurism and ‘Steve owes Jonathan Byers an apology because if he had a camera he’d also be tempted to immortalize Eddie in this moment for future reference’

hi anon !! omg i’m in love with this prompt 💛 thank you so much for the submission, hope you enjoy :)

warnings: this one is heavy on the perv!eddie in the beginning so if that’s not your thing, feel free to skip, accidental voyeurism, frotting

eddie knows he’s all types of fucked up for this. he knows there’s a sick place in hell for guys like him.

steve’s his roommate, his supposed ‘best friend,’ the guy who saved him from imminent death in an alternate dimension.

yet here he is—jerking himself off with steve’s favorite pair of gym shorts clutched between his dick and his fist. thrusting and dirty talking his way to the finish line as if his best friend can actually hear him:

“you’re such a cocktease, stevie. always bending over right in front of me in those tight little outfits. just love to whore yourself out for my attention, don’t you?”

“does your girlfriend know how desperate you are for my cock? does she know how dumb you get when i choke you on it?”

“so beautiful, baby. so goddamn beautiful. gonna paint your pretty face with my cum. stay still. be good and take it, baby. let me fuck you right.”

he’s wearing Steve’s cologne—doused himself in the piney scent to enhance the sensory experience. he’s got a spread of stolen polaroids laid out in front of him.

a glorious mixture of cutesy and depraved pictures that steve’s ‘girlfriend’ of the month has taken of him (pictures that she finds mysteriously missing from her wallet whenever she comes over and eddie’s home).

eddie’s gazing at his three favorites as he works himself over—a close-up of steve’s blurry tits, steve smiling with his tongue poking out between his teeth, and steve eating pussy like it’s his last fucking meal on death row.

everything about that boy—correction: his boy—is perfect.

none of the girls he brings home deserve him. he’s pure gold, the sun personified, rare.

eddie watches them. observes the ways they take advantage of his kindness. the little jabs they make at his intelligence. the quipped commentary surrounding their exits. it boils his blood, makes his skin burn, and if steve was his? he’d never let him forget how loved he is. he’d treasure him, keep him safe, worship him up and down.

it doesn’t matter. it can’t matter, because there’s nothing eddie can do to force steve to feel the same way.

he understands that. he’s not delusional. but, he has to do something about it. he has to cope with this insatiable itch somehow.

so, while steve’s at work, eddie sneaks into his best friend’s bedroom and rolls around in his sheets.

he gets stupidly high off of it, doesn’t need a joint to do the trick.

he rubs his cock over his pillow and smiles with pure love while he does it.

he digs through steve’s hamper and finds his gym clothes from that morning—still ripe with natural musk, sweat, and salt. eddie buries his face in them. licks over the crotch. fingers himself with his ass pointed skyward, head in the sand—drowning in steve’s pretty filth. crying out and letting his unfiltered desire flood the room.

and if he’s really lucky, like today, he’ll find an old sock that steve’s used to wipe himself clean after fucking one of those careless girls. dried with wasted cum because steve’s a good boy who pulls out and never cums inside one of his hook-ups.

meanwhile, eddie dreams of cumming inside him with the gross, used cotton pressed to his lips. he loves to suckle on the fabric. pretends he’s eating steve out after pumping him full. it’s nasty and bitter and all he thinks about. can’t get enough of steve on his tongue.

“want you to sit on my face, stevie. don’t be afraid, love. you won’t hurt me. i’ll take such good care of you. don’t even need to breathe. just need to taste you,” he babbles to himself and tightens his grip, “that’s it. want you to squeeze me between your pretty thighs. so fucking perfect. jesus.”

eddie’s moments away from blowing his load when steve rounds the corner and saunters on into his bedroom. home hours early from work without any warning.

“hey man! thought i heard you in here. powers out at family video and—”

he stops in his tracks. mouth gaping wide open.

“fuck. fuck. steve,” eddie’s stuck in place like a deer in headlights. dick fully erect and leaking onto his best friend’s shorts which are still in his hand, “im so sorry. i—let me get dressed and i’ll—um—i’ll leave—”

steve approaches eddie with a curious look on his face and pink coloring his cheeks. his chest rises and falls slowly and there’s a dazed look behind his eyes. he licks over his lips once and reaches a hand out. so close, he’s almost touching eddie’s cock which doesn’t make any sense because—

“let me,” he nods emphatically and eddie realizes they’re both shaking from something other than fear, “please.”

“steve. you don’t have to. you shouldn’t. i’m—i’m the one who fucked up,” eddie says unconvincingly, because all he wants is to continue basking in the wonder of this absurd fever dream.

“eds,” steve shivers visibly and shoves down the waistband of his sweatpants to reveal his dick. “i’m so fucking hard. can i—i wanna make you feel good—make us feel good.”

eddie pinches his own arm.

he’s waiting for steve to snap out of it. he’s convinced the guy is drugged or hallucinating or both. but, then, he leans closer and ghosts his lips over the corner of eddie’s open mouth. flicks his tongue and runs it over his bottom lip.

“please. let me give you the real thing.”

“okay,” eddie agrees, as steve takes them both into one hand with obvious urgency, “anything—you can have anything you want.”

steve winks at him, ducks down to kiss his throat, and releases a weak sigh into eddie’s neck as he watches his huge hand encompass both of their dicks.

the spread of shared precum eases the sticky drag of skin on skin and creates the perfect balance of friction. steve’s cock is wider than eddie’s. it’s pinker, too. but eddie grins happily at the few inches of length he has on his friend.

“y—you don’t care that i was being a creep?” eddie moans, knowing he won’t last long. fuck steve’s even prettier this close up, “why don’t you care?”

steve pumps them faster. his hips are bumping into eddie’s as he thrusts harder. moans dripping from his throat like honey.

“because i’ve been trying to get you to fuck me for the past year and a half,” steve uses his other hand to push eddie’s head forward and kisses him fully which sends him to the goddamn moon and back.

they lick behind teeth, tangle tongues, swallow groans and filthy words.

steve bites eddie’s lip and eddie does it right back.

they mirror each other in the strangest and most stunning way—nothing and everything alike.

eddie’s hands are kneading the meat of steve’s ass. he grazes a finger over his boy’s hole and revels in the sharp gasp it coaxes out of him.

“do that again,” steve groans and eddie obliges, “no one’s ever touched me there. feels so good.”

steve is going to be the death of him. steve’s going to kill him and eddie’s going to smile the whole way through.

“steve—i’m a fucking freak,” eddie pulls away to admit as he nibbles on steve’s ears and pumps the tip of his pointer finger into his ass, “i’ve been sneaking into your room and stealing polaroids from—”

steve bites him on the shoulder to demand silence and leaves the gorgeous imprint of his teeth. eddie whines and folds instantly, breathing heavily.

“and i jerk off with your rings on whenever you go to band practice so shut the fuck up and cum for me,” steve slams their lips back together and at the sound of his words and ridiculous confession, eddie cums harder than he ever has in his entire fucking life. a minute later, steve follows suit.

later, after a quick nap in the mess they’ve made, steve wakes eddie up with his mouth stretched around his cock and whispers, “it’s time for round two, baby. go get your rings. we’re trying something.”

taglist (message me to be added or removed at any time <3): @estrellami-1, @disastardly, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @the-redthread, @asbealthgn, @bestofbucky, @vampireinthesun, @carlyv, @shrimply-a-menace, @lordrrascal, @jjoesjonas, @malachitedevil, @anxiouseds, @feraleddiekinninghours, @gay-little-bitch, @jhrc666, @pinkdaisies1998, @mcneen, @perseus-notjackson, @eiddets, @corroded-coffin-groupie, @three-possums-playing-human, @stevesbipanic, @plutoshelm, @arkenstoned, @indiearr

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callmelinamfsnow · 3 years ago

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Four Days Later

Warnings: (Kind of) spoilers for TUA S3 Word Count; 2,100+

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: Five figures out how to get a phone and makes it his mission to make you smile and blush to death before your date. Ch. 1: “How Old Are You?” Ch. 2: The Beginning of The Date

A/N:This story ended up getting way too long so I’m just making their date another part. This is also like 25% texts.

“Hi is this (Y/N)?”

“Yes, who’s this?”

“It’s Five from the diner”

“Oh I was wondering when you were going to text me.

Thought you’d just conned me out of my money and ran”

“I’d be an idiot to do that”

(Y/N) smiled at that text, biting her lip as she thought of something to reply. It’d been four of five days since the day at the Diner, and each day both of them grew a bit more anxious to talk to the other. Five felt like he was going to go crazy.

He’d discovered some keys in his coat pocket when he left the Diner which led him to a small townhouse walking distance from there. He got lucky that he got there just as it had started to rain.

‘I wonder if she likes the rain’

He took off his suit jacket and put it on the hook behind the door. Slowly making his way through the home, taking in the plain design and simple furniture. The kitchen was clean. A few pieces of fruit in a fruit bowl on the counter along with a coffee maker and a small coffee station.

‘Cute’

He unbuttoned his vest as he made his way to the upstairs, passing by an open bathroom before walking into the master bedroom. Slipping his vest off he let out a “huh” and dropped it onto the bed, going to undo his tie next. The room seemed bigger than it really was. Maybe it was the plain white walls with no decorations. He had nightstands on either side of his bed. A tall dresser next to his door. A small chair in the corner of his room with a simple lamp next to it.

He dropped his tie on the bed and went to take off his shirt next as he walked into the bathroom. “Holy shit” he mumbled as he got a good look. The shower with the deep tub took up most of the room, but he didn’t complain. Who needs all that space to take a shit? He opened one door that led to a small space for the toilet, losing interest and closing it quickly. He opened the other on the wall next to it that led to his closet, just as he finished taking off his shirt. His wardrobe matched the house. Plain. Simple.

“Well at least it’s not a school boy uniform” he sighed and dropped his shirt in the hamper, exiting through the doors that led back to his bedroom.

Now that he didn't have to worry about being homeless he could focus on figuring out if he had a job, and if not how to get one so he could get a phone to talk to (Y/N). Four days later he managed to secure a job and use the cash he found in his home to get a phone and plan. Now he was finally able to talk to her again.

"So how have you been since we last saw each other?"

She stared at the text and contemplated what all to say. In reality, everything was great until yesterday which is why she had been so relieved to have her self-deprecating thoughts proved wrong when Five finally messaged her.

"Eh. I've been better, but I'm happy to finally hear from you :)"

"Well, I'm happy to hear that I made you happy.

What's wrong?"

Five furrowed his brows as he read the "I've been better" over again. He didn't like the thought of her having a bad day.

"I'm just tired from being responsible and dealing with family"

"I can empathize with the latter

Do you have any siblings?"

"Yeah I have two older sisters, you?"

"I have six adopted siblings

I'm also adopted"

"Wow, you just get more and more interesting huh?"

"Guess so

I'd love to tell you more of my interesting facts over some coffee or dinner maybe. When are you free?"

"Sounds like fun

I can do Thursday or Friday"

"Thursday

The sooner the better

Want to see that pretty smile as soon as possible"

My goddess, he was making her smile so much her face was going to start hurting soon.

"Well, Thursday it is (:

So which one do you want to do?"

"Whichever you're more comfortable with"

"Coffee sounds good

What time?"

"Noon?

You chose the place"

"Noon is good for me and okay let me think of somewhere cute and I'll send you the address"

"Starbucks doesn't make the cut?"

"I'd like to see if I can think of any other better options than a crowded, loud Starbucks"

She giggled as she sent the last text, biting her lip as she thought of a place for their date. Granted Starbucks wouldn't be the worst place to do it, but an alternative with more privacy and a cuter environment sounded more appropriate. There were a couple of places that came to mind, but one was a bit pricey and the other was a bit far.

“Don’t stress about it too much. I’m fine with a cup of coffee and you.”

“Fuuuuuck me” she groaned as she read the text, placing her hand against the wall and dropping her head. (Y/N) stayed like that for a minute before breaking into a little happy dance/sway. “Oooo I hope this shit doesn’t go South” she sighed, a giant smile on her face as she wrote her reply.

“Might make you prove it and choose a shitty place on purpose”

“Well that’d sure make an interesting first date

Would you mind if we paused so I could go shower?”

“Yeah of course

I can figure out where we’ll go while you’re in there”

“Alright I’ll be back in a jiff”

Five had actually been standing in his bathroom in nothing but his boxers ready to turn on the water for a while, but he couldn’t bring himself to pause the conversation. He sighed as he turned the water on and slipped out of his boxers. He hadn’t been lying when he said all he needed was a cup of coffee and you. He was a simple man, whose only interest was to get to know you better and maybe (hopefully) see you again.

Once the water was warm enough he got in, sighing in contentment as he felt it hit him. He hadn’t exactly been able to have a nice shower for the past month considering he was saving the world and the hotel showers’ were shit. But his, his had a detachable shower head with four different settings, all of which brought him utter joy. Although he was supposed to be taking a relaxing shower, he couldn’t help but rush to resume talking to her.

Meanwhile (Y/N) had been trying her best to distract herself from waiting for his text. Deciding to help herself to some ice cream as she thought of a place to go to. She scrunched her nose up and groaned, annoyed at how much she was overthinking things, and switched back to her texts reading his over again. All he wanted was her and some good coffee. Plain and simple. “Okay, okay stop fucking with yourself and just pick” she muttered to herself before eating another spoon of ice cream. Her phone got placed on the counter while she cleaned up, finally able to distract herself.

Five let out a breath as he got out of the shower and put his towel on. He didn’t hesitate in opening his phone, reading your reply of “Have fun” and cracking a small confused smile.

“I’m back”

(Y/N) stilled when she heard her phone go off, a smile starting to spread on her face as she made her way over.

“Welcome back

I decided on where to go”

“That’s great, where?”

“There’s a nice café/bakery I haven’t gone to in a bit.

I think you’ll find the coffee to your liking”

“Sounds perfect”

The two spent the rest of the night and the following day talking. Their conversations didn't stray too far from the normal “How is your day going?” or small talk. When the day of their date finally came, (Y/N) was somewhat surprised when she excitedly woke up earlier than she normally does. As she checked the time on her phone. The lack of a message from Five most likely meant he hadn’t woken up yet or was busy. Taking the opportunity, she went to shower, deciding today would be a bit of a self-care shower.

One relaxing shower she walked back into her bedroom, debating if she should stick to her simple hair routine. In all honesty, she was kind of lazy and didn’t feel like doing the most with her hair. However, she was going on a date. “Ugh, this sucks” she semi-whined before grabbing her nice scented lotion and putting it on. While finishing up she realized she hadn’t checked her phone or even bothered to reply to Five. “Oooo sorryyyy” she sing sang/mumbled, picking up her phone just as a text came in.

“Good morning sunshine

We still on for noon at the cafe?”

“Look at that I was just about to text you too

And yes of course we are

You still owe me those five dollars ;)”

“Don’t worry I didn’t forget dear”

“Dear”. That was new. (Y/N) has been called babe and mamas by guys before, maybe even a love every once in a while, but she couldn’t help the butterflies in her chest when she read that pet name.

“Good 😌”

The next few hours consisted of (Y/N) and Five both mentally and physically preparing for the date. With the help of her roommate (Y/N) was able to decide on an outfit that was cute, comfortable, and even made her feel confident.

“So what else do you have planned for the date,” her roommate asked as she helped (Y/N) put her necklace on. “Umm, nothing really. We’re just gonna get coffee and talk” she shrugged and looked herself over in the mirror. “Really? Kind of basic, no?”

“Yeah I guess but I also didn’t want to do that much for our first date and he had said all he needed was some coffee and me for it to be a good date”

“Awe that’s cute”

“Right? I was smiling so hard when I got the text.” (Y/N) said as she turned to look at her friend. “I’m also just kind of going to see how things go on the date and maybe we’ll… hmm, shit I don’t know” she huffed at the end, trying to think of what else they could do. “It’s nice outside so I was going to say we could go for a walk or something but that’s kind of the same thing. Movies?” She asked more than suggested. “Yeah that sounds good, or a bookstore/ the library? You said you thought that’d be a cute idea and you’re already being aesthetic and getting coffee” her roommate replied in a reassuring tone.

(Y/N) didn’t exactly have much experience or luck with dates, having to deal with her share of assholes. Her friends and family weren’t exactly the most helpful and the ones that were had their things to deal with. Things (Y/N) would consider more important than her, even when they obviously weren’t. Therefore her roommate was more than happy to offer to help her out after they stumbled upon the topic in their morning small talk.

“Yeah, I just hope I find I book I like and can concentrate on” (Y/N) said as she made sure she had everything in her bag, “I mean it’s noon, so I’m sure we’ll think of something if we get bored”. She picked her phone up to check the time smiling at Five’s texts.

“Hope you’re not stressing yourself out as much as you were picking the place

I’m sure I’ll look unimpressive compared to you”

“What’d he say now?” Her roommate asked scooting closer to her. (Y/N) happily showed her the texts, “oh my gosh you are cheesing!!”. (Y/N) let out a mix of a laugh and giggle, nodding in agreement. “I know. I know, I just hope he actually ends up being as nice as he seems. I do not want to fucking deal with more bullshit” she sighed at the end, closing her phone for a second to just breathe. “Me too, but only one way to find out.” her roommate hummed, “what time is it?”. (Y/N) opened her phone to check, “it’s about to be 11” she replied and let out another excited breath, before replying to Five.

“Well, you’ll find out soon 😌

And if you’re wearing your cute little suit again I’ll definitely look underdressed haha”

Just one more hour.

Tags:

@ay4kshalatus

@navs-bhat

@yuki1s--note

@behradsweedstash

@nevbrooke-555

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amateurduhhh · 3 years ago

Text

In The Dark | Platonic! Krobus x Reader

Krobus wrestles with the farmer's unhealthy sleeping habits and is determined to uncover the truth behind them.

Content warning: blood, violence, trauma, nightmares

"Stay back!" you thundered with bared teeth, swinging your sword in the dimly lit, cramped caverns of the Stardew Valley mines. Nearly a hundred levels under the surface, with no one to hear your screams, a slime projectile hampered your escape as you tried to limp away from any monsters.

Blood gushed from your head in sync with the beating of your heart. Sharp pains in your side stormed as your chest pounded, threatening to break free from your rib cage. There were three shadowy figures awkwardly ambling at you with malicious expressions etched on their complexions. With phantom limbs, they reached out to grab you, to which you weakly swung your sword once more.

Your arms grew heavy and exhausted. Anxiety grew solid in your chest as the hold on your sword was slackened and slippery from the sweat storing on your palms. You looked back to run, your tired legs staggered frantically as fast as they could.

Your stomach further plummeted at the rocks blocking the exit. With your energy and health depleated, burning hot tears beaded the rims of your eyes as you reached for your pickaxe. A pair of dark, phantom hands harshly clamped down on your shoulder and yanked you back with a ferocious force. You let out a helpless yelp, following a shriek of anguish as you tried to reach for the ladder.

"(Y/N)," The dark figure spoke. Before your eyes the shallow ceiling expanded and the pain in your side disappeared. The shadowy figures blurred into one familiar one. Your roommate, Krobus, who you had grown close to recently wore an expression that was as concerned as you'd seen a shadow person muster.

"Krobus," you said, putting your hand up to your face, feeling it soaked with sweat and tears. As you spoke, you became more aware of the rawness of your throat, indicating the less than silent sleep you had woken from. The bewildered look Krobus gave you filled your gut with guilt and dread.

"I am confused," said Krobus, somewhat tilting his head to the side. "You are angry?"

You blankly stared at him for a second before responding. Despite your forlorn voice, you tried your best to reassure him. "No... no, it's just a bad dream. Sorry if I woke you."

Krobus withdrew, repeating the word "dream" under his breath several times. "Your dreams are frequent and they induce anger?"

His effort to understand made you feel worse."Um... well, Krobus, I know you want to understand humans... but I don't feel like talking about it... okay?"

To say Krobus was perplexed was an understatement. However, he complied and nodded. "Okay (Y/N). May your rest be more peaceful, then."

"Thanks," you muttered.

You were thankful he hadn't pried further. After growing so close to Krobus, you'd realized how friendly and caring he is. Unlike his fellow shadow people, whom have escorted you to the brink of death several times. However that only meant you had killed many of them in turn.

Wheher it was meeting the business end of a few shadow people, or successfully heaving in victory over their lifeless body, your interactions with them always left a bad taste in your mouth.

Even so, his friendship with the monsters was a flaw you could handle. You figured if you told Krobus about the nightmares, he would resent you. This, what he doesn't know won't kill him. Krobus was too important to let something like a little childish nightmare get in the way of your friendship.

The next several nights you had experienced the same terrors. All while, Krobus remained a worried witness, unsure what to do. It seemed there was no helping you and it frightened Krobus. From what he knew about humans, sleep was very important and typically a peaceful ordeal.

Only, your sleep cycle became more and more disarray and chaotic. You'd been staying out later than usual, stumbling in at 1 am every night, followed by restless sleep.

You fretted over your receding stock in stone and gems, your pickaxe unused and leaning against the wall of your closet. Added stress of going back into the mines fueled your lack of sleep. But when you did, you found yourself plagued by horrible images and vivid memories of your own blood spewing from your cracked skull.

Krobus would watch in fear as you tossed and turn, sobbing in your sleep. You gripped your sweat-soaked bedsheets like it was a life source. Every so often, the terrors would become so severe, that you'd jerk awake, sometimes screaming with a tear-streaked face hyperventilating.

These episodes only worsened as the weeks went by. Krobus was awakened by thrashing and pain-filled cries ricocheting off the walls. You looked so terrified as you slept, almost more animated than when you were awake. Krobus didn't know much about human behavior, but his intuition told him this was not normal.

If that wasn't bad enough, you'd wake up with dark circles under your half-lidded eyes. Krobus noticed you were more on edge around him in the early morning. As if he had tried to kill you in your sleep.

"I read in a book that frequent night terrors may be a result of a stressful event," said Krobus, trying to confront you about the sleepless nights. "It is not normal for humans, I think we should discuss-"

"I'm a farmer, Krobus," you interrupted him. "It's a stressful job."

Krobus tried to reason your logic, but still found no solution to your problem. This particular night, though, would prove to be the last night before you decided to get help. Of course, that could only mean things got ugly.

You sat up, weeping from your nightmare. Ghosts, whispered taunts in your ears as slimes held you down to the floor. There was so much blood matted on your hair and skin, you were sure your entire circulatory system was comprised of adrenaline by now.

Meanwhile, Krobus watched you stumble through the house, muttering nonsense to yourself over and over. Your voice was erratic and paranoid and your forehead was sleeked with a layer of beaded sweat. There was a tremble in your step.

He approached you from behind, and tried to tap on your shoulder to wake you up, under the impression you were sleep walking. Only, to his surprise, you quickly turned and had thrown a punch square in his center, knocking him back, leaving him confused and hurt. You tackled him, pinning the shadow person to the ground.

"(Y/N), you're hurting me!" Krobus squirmed to his feet.

"Krobus!" You cried, panic and regret forming in your gut. "W-why would you sneak up on me like that! You scared me!"

"We need to figure out what is bothering you or I am going to tell Dr. Harvey." Krobus demanded and slammed his foot onto the floor.

"You can't," you said with worry. "You... you'd be putting yourself in too much danger."

"If that is what it takes to make you feel safe, I have no options left."

"Krobus..."

"I have been experiencing a foreign emotion ever since I began living with you," he confessed. "I am unable to identify it, but even so, I would not trade this feeling for anything else."

"Krobus, I care about you, too." You looked down, averting your gaze. "But I have to handle this myself."

"You don't have to," Krobus replied thoughtfully. "I'm here for you, and I want to help."

A flood of relief toppled you over. "Okay..." You took a seat on the sofa, Krobus sitting next to you. He listened intently as you communicated

"My mining expeditions... Slimes, dust spirits, skeletons, and even s- shadow people, Krobus. I fought and killed them. It fucked me up and I thought I could ignore it. I didn't think- Krobus, you mean a lot to me and I know you'd never hurt me but I get so scared..."

"You can trust me, (Y/N)," Krobus scooted closer to you. "Why did not tell me sooner?"

"I thought you'd hate me," you acknowledged. "After all, I... I fought and killed so many shadow people. I cared about you too much to let the nightmares get in the way."

Krobus exchanged a hug with you.

"I could never hate you, (Y/N)."

"I'm so glad we're friends, Krobus. Even if we come from completely different worlds, I couldn't ask for a better friend."

"Likewise."

#krobus #stardew #stardew valley farmer #stardew valley #stardew headcanon #stardew valley krobus #sdv farmer #sdv fanfic #sdv krobus #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley headcanons

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whencyclopedia · 11 months ago

Photo

Sword Beach

Operation Overlord

#History #3rdBritishInfantryDivision #Allied #British #WHE #[#]

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

Text

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 5

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, ALL THE ANGST. AND MORE TO COME! Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @iwillstaywiththemforever @justine-en @weirdgirlfromtx @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy @edlothia-baby @soul-end @willieoo @willowoo @peterxwade24 @the-atlantic-french-fry @bad-bouquet-of-emotions @vvipgot7be @pure-princess-97 @atomicsoulhumanspy

Author's Note: I have nothing to say for any of the emotions y'all are about to get from this. Enjoy!-Thorne

She wasn’t sure what she expected when she sat down, but the stretching silence growing between her and her estranged family wasn’t it. She tried to look anywhere but them, not because she was ashamed—far from it. But it was more than awkward sitting across from three brothers and a father she’d not spoken to in three years, let alone tell them she was even alive.

Her eyes found Wally’s as he sat down beside her eldest brother and if looks could’ve killed, he’d been dead and buried.

“Glare at me all you want, but I’m not going to apologize,” he shrugged.

Scowling, she turned her attention to the skyline. “Fuck you,” she spat, crossing her arms.

“At least talk to them, (Y/N).”

“And why should I, Wally?” she questioned, glaring at him. “I don’t have anything to say. If I did, I wouldn’t be here in Central.”

“You’re not leaving until you talk to them,” he finalized with a firm look and she growled low in her throat and resigned herself to her fate.

Her eyes darted to her father’s and she couldn’t for the life of her decipher what was in them. “I’ll talk for an hour,” she told him. “I’m not talking about what I’ve been doing in Central City, so don’t ask. I’m not talking about the life I’ve been living, so don’t ask. You’re only allowed to ask me about my departure and that’s it. But after one hour is up, I’m leaving.”

“Who said you get to leave,” Wally questioned, and she shot him the darkest glower she could muster.

“So help me God, Wally West you’ll either take me home or you’ll fix that fucking elevator and I’ll walk myself home. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the world who every vigilante is at this table.”

For once she managed to stump him because his eyes went wide—so did her family’s but she didn’t care—and he finally nodded.

“Alright. One hour.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she turned back to her family, more specifically her father. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“Maybe for you to come home, (Y/N),” Jason answered, and she glanced to him.

“Not a chance. Next?”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to be hostile. We’re not going to force you here,” Dick said, and she looked at him now, eyes narrowing.

“The manipulation tactic isn’t going to work on me, Dick. I’m not here for to be tricked into coming back. I’m never coming back.” She cocked her leg over the side of the table and reclined, biting out, “Give me your anger. I’d prefer that instead of whatever this pitiful bullshit you’ve got going on.”

In the eighteen years they’d known their sister they’d never heard her say such a callous thing, but her words had practically slapped Dick across the face because hurt etched onto his expression, then immediately turned into anger.

“You want my anger? Fine.” He stood and pointed at her. “What the hell is wrong with you! Why would just up and disappear like you did! Do you have any idea how scared we were for you! How distraught!”

(Y/N) blinked at him. “Knowing how you like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders because you can’t help but be a hero? Probably a lot.” She made a dramatic show of looking at her watch. “You’ve got forty minutes. Keep it up.”

Her eyes shifted to Bruce’s. “Did you let them read the letter? Or did you just throw it away after you read it?”

Dick, Jason, and Tim all turned to Bruce at that.

“Letter?” Tim repeated. “What letter?”

(Y/N)’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape and then she smiled knowingly. “Oh, you never showed them the letter, did you?” She looked to her brothers. “I wrote dad a letter the night I left to explain why I was leaving. It’s sugarcoated bullshit but it is the truth.”

Dick’s face contorted in anger. “(Y/N) left a reason behind and you didn’t tell us about it? Three years and not a single word?”

Bruce merely stared at her as he pulled the letter out of his coat pocket. “I was going to burn it when I found her again. Talk to her before anyone else could.”

Jason snatched the letter from his hands. It had faded a bit, softened around the hard edges, like someone had opened it and read it every day for three years.

His eyes scanned the paper, and he met her gaze, voice chock-full of hurt and she had to fight tooth and nail to keep herself from externally reacting. “You left because you thought we didn’t care about you?”

Dick reached over and took the letter. With furrowed brows and a frown, he started to read aloud, and Bruce gazed at (Y/N) as the memory came back to him.

***

Mornings at the manor were unusually quiet in comparison with the evenings. Everyone was typically too tired to argue so it accounted for a peaceful breakfast of soft words and chewing. Everyone had an assigned seat and every child had learned early on not to take the seat that belonged to another brother or their sister because there would be a fight about it.

Dick and Jason sat next to each other and (Y/N) took the seat at the end of that side; Tim and Damian took the other side—oldest to youngest, just the neat and even way Bruce liked it.

It was rare for any of the boys to be awake before him or Alfred and (Y/N) was usually the first kid to the table, the boys wandering in just minutes after her. Oddly enough, that morning she hadn’t come down for breakfast—which she always came to.

Bruce looked at Alfred. “Is (Y/N) coming down?”

Alfred hummed and gently maneuvered Tim’s arm to the side to he could set down the plate. “When I went to her door, it was locked, and I received no conversation from inside.”

Jason snorted and sipped his coffee. “Probably had a long night with her friends and is still out. I know I would be.”

“How would you know?” Tim interrupted. “You died before you got to the eleventh grade.”

“You’re one to talk, dropout,” Dick countered, and Damian sighed.

“Richard, you dropped out of college. The only son of Batman who has actually completed an entire bout of schooling is me.”

The three boys turned on him with scowls and retorted, “No one asked you, pipsqueak.” Damian glared back at them.

Bruce rolled his eyes, using the side of his fork to cut into his omelet. “Let’s try not to start a free-for-all here in the breakfast room, please.” He glanced at Alfred. “She’s probably tired from all the ceremonies. Let her sleep.”

Alfred nodded. “Of course, Master Bruce. She should be well rested this evening.”

But when the evening came, Alfred still hadn’t been able to get (Y/N) to unlock her bedroom nor speak to him. He certainly wasn’t worried, but it was off for her to be so reclusive. When Bruce and the boys came back from patrol, he mentioned it to him.

“Miss (Y/N) hasn’t come out from her bedroom, Master Bruce. Nor has she said a single word all day.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed and he tugged the cowl off, rising from the seat at the Batcomputer. “I’ll go check on her,” he replied. “You deal with…” his steel eyes drifted to Dick who had Tim in a headlock and Jason who was giving Damian a noogie. “Them,” he finalized, leaving the poor butler behind.

He knocked on the door to her room and pressed his ear to it. “(Y/N)? You haven’t come out all day. Is everything alright?”

Nothing. Not even a breath.

“(Y/N), are you in there?” he asked again and when he didn’t receive a confirmation, he raised his arm, running his fingers along the doorframe until he touched a small metal piece. He pulled it down and stuck it in the door, wiggling the knob for a second before it clicked, and he opened the door.

“Sweetheart, we’ve been trying to—” Bruce went silent when he saw the kempt room. Bed neatly made, everything organized and put away. Even her clothes hamper was empty.

He blinked and walked into the room, quickly heading to the bathroom to check for her there. It was empty as well, and just as clean, leaving him stunned as he exited the bath.

Wandering over to her desk, he saw an elegant envelope sitting on top of her laptop, his name written in beautiful penmanship. He picked it up and unfolded it, pulling out the multi-page letter. He drew his eyes along the golden lines, reading her words.

Dad,

I don’t really know how to start this letter. Truth be told I’ve written at least six before this one, and even then, I’m not entirely happy with it. But if you’re reading this, I’m not here anymore. I haven’t hurt myself in anyway, you don’t need to worry about Vicki Vale or Jack Ryder reporting the discovery of my body. I mean it in a literal sense—I’m not in Gotham anymore. Neither am I ever coming back.

Don’t think this is your fault. You’re a good father, the best I could’ve been given, and my brothers are good siblings. But the truth is that I’m not fit for this family of heroes. And I never have been. My best when trying to be what all of you are, was never good enough and I’ve spent eighteen years staring at your backs, waiting for you all to realize that I’m still here, that I still matter even if I’m not like you. And I don’t want to feel like a stranger in my own home any longer.

I don’t want you to look for me. I know you will, but I wish you wouldn’t. This isn’t some spur of the moment thing I decided to do the night after graduation. If you look at my bank records, I’ve been withdrawing cash from my savings since freshman year—this is four years of planning, so please understand that I’m doing this because I don’t want to be found—ever.

I’ll leave the story for the media up for you, though I doubt that they’ll care long enough to make a deal of it. It’ll pass like winter does spring and they’ll move on to the next bigger story.

Thank you for everything dad, and good luck with Gotham—keep it safe like you always have. And I hope that one day when you think of me, you won’t feel disappointment. I’ve only ever tried to be something that when you looked down on me, you’d only be proud, and I hope one day I’ll achieve what I always dreamed about. Eighteen is young to be on your own and I’m scared. But I’ll be okay—I always have been.

So do me a favor and don’t spend too much time over this. There are plenty more younger kids that need a parent’s hand on their backs to steady them like you once did for me. Find one and fill my spot. Let them shine brighter than I ever could. Let them be the one worthy to be a Wayne—I know I never was.

-(Y/N)

Bruce barely had time to grasp the back of her chair to keep himself from falling to his knees in shock. The letter was clenched in his hand and his lungs wouldn’t take in air like he wanted them to, his heart aching with each palpitation. He looked around the room to her dresser drawers, willing the strength into his legs to moved over to it. He opened every drawer and to his astonishment, they were empty. Hurrying to the bathroom, he noticed the drawers in there were empty as well. She was really gone. And he had no idea what to do.

***

Tears were in Dick’s eyes when he finished the letter and he looked up at her. “How could you ever think we didn’t care about you, (Y/N)?”

She didn’t want to have this conversation. She didn’t want to sit there and explain every time she asked her brothers if they wanted to do something with her and they conveniently had something else to do. Didn’t want to explain every school and extracurricular performance that went unattended and left a little girl standing in front of a crowd barely managing to stave off the tears as she bowed and thanked them for coming. She didn’t want to remember all the memories that chipped away at her heart with every disappointment that occurred. All she wanted to do was leave.

(Y/N) had earlier returned to her original position, hands in her lap and she clenched her fists until her nails bit into the skin of her palms, eyes directed anywhere but Dick’s.

“I think it’s time we call this little reunion done,” she said, standing to her feet. “We’re not going to get anywhere.”

“Not if you run again,” Jason muttered, unconsciously wiping a tear from his eye.

She pointed at him, hissing, “I didn’t run the first time, Jason. I left. On my own accord.”

“You ran instead of coming to us, (Y/N),” Tim said, and she threw her hands above her head in disbelief.

“What the fuck did you want me to do! Wander down into the cave and beg at your feet for someone to pay attention to me! To at least pretend like I was a sister! I did! Every day!”

(Y/N) picked up her purse and yanked it up her arm. “Cassandra seems to be fitting in better than I did. So go and dote on her as the younger sibling. I’m not interested in the position anymore.”

“It’s not a competition,” Dick explained. “We love you just as much as we love Cass.”

She paused and gazed at him, voice laced with disappointment as she disagreed, “Then you should make sure she’s content in the manor, because if you love her with any semblance of how you loved me? It’s not at all.”

Her eyes shifted to Wally’s. “Fix the elevator. Now.”

He stayed seated for a moment, the two of them staring each other down, then he nodded wordlessly and moved to the elevator, starting it again. Her family stayed seated, and she gave them one final look before she followed Wally, silently waiting for the doors to open.

When they did, she stepped inside and turned around, hitting the button. Just before the doors closed, Wally stopped them and murmured, “You’re making a mistake.”

“My worst mistake was becoming friends with you.” (Y/N) blinked at him, then reached up and shoved his hand away from the door and as it closed, she remarked coldly, “And you can go to hell for all I care.”

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moonlightwritesdisney · 4 years ago

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YOU. — Wyatt Lykensen

Pairing: Wyatt Lykensen X FEMALE! READER

Requested: Yes / No

Warnings: vulgar swearing. descriptions of blood. unhealthy behavior. mentions of rape.

Author’s Note: please note that you (the reader) and wyatt are both adults in this image. Just to clear up any confusion!

Summary: The first time he saw you he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He follows you everywhere. He gets jealous when he sees you invite a friend over for old times sake. Things go way to far. You will be his.

HE ALLOWED THE LOUD CHATTER and birds song in the bright summer square of ZombieTown to be slowly drowned out by all his pulsing thoughts. He stood in the distance observing you. Out of all the people that passed by blocking his view, he kept his hard eye on you.

The way your soft brunette curls laid untouched just inches away from your descending chest. Echoes of your honey dripping laugh rang through his twitching ears. The jealously and anger only grew worse.

Unbeknownst to you, not aware of the wolf watching you had just finished a few hours of shopping, you were making your way down towards the central parking just by ZombieTown’s large water fountain before you were stopped by an old school friend — who was male.

He was so surprised to see, he complimented you and watched you laugh in sweetness. Both of you stood their for at least 20 minutes catching up on old burnt out memories he was trying to re-flame. He could read your mind. He felt the same as you. He knew you were uncomfortable and wanted to make a fast escape. You didn’t trust this guy but.

“Hey uhm- i was actually wondering if you’d like to have dinner and a movie tonight?” Was this guy serious? After a twenty minute conversation?! You weren’t one to be rude because of your passive personality. “Oh — uhm sure! I’d like that. I’ll be there at seven o’clock”.

And with that you were off and on your way home. Wyatt watched as you retreated towards the silver Cadillac you owned in the parking lot. He watched all around him. He glared at the young man who was walking the opposite way. That dumb human. He couldn’t stand a chance against him.

Nonetheless, he knew you’d be his one day. He’d let you have the little amount of happiness this human could spare for a while. He’d imagine you helpless crying and running straight into his arms. The way your head laid on his shoulder while he rubbed your back in a calming manner.

Leaving little kisses on our neck when he was in the mood, the warm feeling of both your sweaty bodies pressed together in pure erotic euphoria. Tingles ran down his spine as he imagines your soft smile in his mind. His heart raced at the thought of your body. Every curve and edge. All the imperfections you could name he’d find absolutely exhilarating.

“Hey man, curfew’s almost up you have to leave”. Another voice snapped him out of deep personal thoughts, he eyed a stern looking officer dressed in a blue SeaBrook uniform, who was very tired and just wanted to go home. He nodded his way respectfully and exited the shopping plaza. The walk to your house wasn’t long.

The city had separate ZombieTown’s main housing and shopping lot so you had to drive at least a small distance to venture for a desired shopping day. He had taken the path towards your small apartment plenty of times, along with being a wolf came with advanced speed so he made due time. The sky swirled with light pinks and oranges making a beautiful sunset in the small town.

The crunching of grass under his feet made his anxious as he took a deep breathe, his footsteps became silent in worries of you discovering him. He stood calmly in your background his ears twitching hearing you humming to yourself softly — he figured you were in the shower getting ready for you date.

A scoff left his red lips in jealousy, he hated that it wasn’t him. ‘in due time’. He thought to himself confidently as he caught attention to light fogs of steam arising from the running shower. Now, Wyatt was no prude but he absolutely couldn’t resist. His curious brown eyes peered above the brick ledge.

A gasp hitched in his throat. His heart could explode at any moment. Their you stood, pampering yourself in the shower. Looking ever so beautiful. The water dripping down your pale dark skin. Your green textured hair soaking up the moisture from the water.

He bit down on his lip as goosebumps shot up his back. You were marvelous. Your beautiful voice flowing through his ears as you sung. His eyes grew yellow, his animalistic nature taking full control. Fangs flashed from his mouth.

He tightened his fist in frustration. He wanted to take you right then and there. ‘All mine’. He thought as he found himself skewing up dirty — unholy images in his mind of him senselessly fucking you, clinging to him as you screamed his name. He knew it was wrong. The tightening he felt in his boxers was painful. Too painful to even bear. He wanted you, every inch.

To him you were everything. All his. After having to agonize through his painful boner he regained composure after zipping up his pale brown pants and moved stalkingly towards the right his eyes casting view into your bedroom window, the soft white shades slightly parted allowing him to see through.

Different collages and pictures of close friends and things you adored plastered all over your walls. Small shelves that held small knickknacks and small plants lightly attracting ray of sunlight bent at the wall. Your bed, freshly made with the soft maroon red and pillows with the dark hues of blue designed with golden tassels laid neatly, untouched.

You were somewhat messy, but very articulate and decorative. Which he adored. Small white bookshelves filled to the end with large literature of your liking. Pushed up against your light grey accent wall. Posters and cute pieces of art made by yourself were taped just above your bed post.

He adored your room. It was full of positivity, light, and all things that you adored. The sweet vanilla and shea scent from your body streamed into his nose like a running river. Licking his lips in anticipation he closed his eyes and exhaled your delectable scent.

You walks into the small atmosphere the cold air hitting your bare legs, missing the warmth of the water and steam capture your body in a relaxing shower. It was a sewer green like color to which your full cheeks spread into a large smile ‘perfect’.

After reaching for a pair of distressed and ripped jeans that you had seen in the corner of your eye you pulled down the chain to your light which shut off you quickly threw your clothing on your bed and sat down on the edge freeing the sparkling red cap on your lotion squeezing the lotion onto your hand.

It smelt amazing, ever since zombies had fought for more equality from the humans. Zombies from everywhere where now able to walk into any store much to the similar human version of their Victoria Secret and others. To which they could by all sorts of cute lipglosses, lotions, night wear, and clothing. The sweet deep smell of cinnamon and rose entered your nostrils as you rubbed the lotion into your calves working your way up to the top of your thighs.

The black pupils widened in arousel and wonder as he stared into the inside of your window without your knowledge — your hands slowly rubbing the white substance on the curve of your plush butt. He was awe stricken, so captivated by the goddess he had known as you. His heart thumped wildly in his chest he couldn’t get enough of you.

Your finger pulled up the red belt loops of the maroon jeans your legs fitted around, securing the gold buttons of your jeans into the red holes in front. You sighed and fumbled with the thin green fabric you scrunched up the material and pushed your head through, then your arms.

You stood in front of the large white rimmed body mirror that leaned against the back wall with a cute colorful tapestry laid over it with pictures of close friends and fun stickers plastered on the corners of the glass. You loved the way your outfit looked. You felt very satisfied. A huge smile spread across your cheeks. The left of your head swung towards the opening crack of your door — the ring of your front doorbell.

You drowned in confusion, your eyes reached over to read the square alarm clock on your night side table. ‘6:24’. ‘He is only twenty minutes early’. Which you thought was very weird. You had just met back with your old elementary friend hours ago , and only after having a seemingly awkward conversation for twenty minutes you agree to go on a date but he’s twenty minutes early?!

You pondered at the all the possibilities as to why he suggested this. But nonetheless you shook the feeling away and picking up your towel placing it in your pale green clothing hamper. Stepping out of your room and down into the wide hallway your fingers wrapped around the chilling gold door handle and yanked it open.

There he stood, bouncing eagerly on his toes. His hair slicked back with hair spray, the clothing he wore was doused with heavy calogne — the foul heavy smell of the body spray stung at your nose the second you opened your front door. Which was something you didn’t find attractive at all. The wide smile he wore seemed like it was too toiled. Like he was trying to hard. His clothes. Ew.

He wore a bright blue and white plaid buttoned, with a black lambskin jacket over it unbuttoned, dark blue low waisted jeans and light brown flats. Yikes. How human of him. You absolutely hated what he was wearing. You knew he was being desperate. You could see it in his body language and his expression. You spotted bright red roses — in front of him you would have scoffed and sent him away.

If he truly remembered you he would have remembered you like sunflowers instead of basic red roses. How bland. But instead, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. You knew the crippling and heart breaking sorrow of rejection, you were a zombie of course so being cast out was something you knew all to well. Instead you tilted your head to the side and forced your cheeks into a great smile.

“Are these flowers for me?” You asked clasping your hands together. He looked down then up at your a small smirk plastering on his thin lips — ‘ABSOLUTELY NOT SIR PLEASE GOD SO DISGUSTING’. These thoughts screamed in your mind as you watched him with pure unattractive as his licked his lips “yes they are actually”.

He said with a very man-ly chuckle “they reminded me of you so I picked them up at the zombie market in town on my way here”. As if this dude wasn’t trying hard enough. He truly had to glamorize the fact that he picked the flowers up at a zombie store instead of the regular human one. So he was racist and trying to hard. Great. You let out an awkward laugh and stepped aside allowing him in before the air became filled with his disgusting aroma.

You had retrieved the flowers from his hand and immediately threw them carelessly on the counter. He didn’t question it but instead following closely behind you. ‘I’ll burn them later’. You thought with a pleasing smirk that played on your face. He had already sat down in your living space his flats sprawled on the floor and his feet kicked up on your glass coffee table. Dog behavior. You rolled your eyes he was stupid and too dumb to even understand basic manners.

Football was playing on your small flat screen, you had taken a seat next to him your feet flat on the floor, your toes curling in the soft plush carpet. “Would you like something to drink?” you asked politely, the man turned his attention towards you, a curl in his lip “hm sure, the finest wine you’ve got?” He requested you stood up and went into the small kitchen opening the oak cabinet next to the sink you had set both wine glasses down on the marble countertop.

The dark brown hues in your eyes scanned out the closed window above your sink watching the bright pink sky combine with beautiful colors of orange and red cascading over the oval clouds. You twisted the cork out of the bottle of white wine you had just bought from ‘Z’s Gruesome Groceriez” in ZombieTown.

You wondered if this human had tasted zombie issued wine before, since well zombie wine was a lot more bitter than regular human liquor / wine. It had a hint of brains. You shrugged with a ‘hmp’. ‘He’s too dumb to even notice anyway’.

After filling both glasses to the half point you held both of them in your hands and carefully walked back into the living room where the human sat on your white leather couch his eyes and full attention soaking into the fourth quarter and a fumbling ball.

You cleared your throat to catch his attention, he smiled towards you and took the wine glass from your right hand and thanked you focusing his content back on the television. “So .. what are you doing for work now?” you asked trying to break the awkward tension to which he perked up after taking a small sip and setting it down.

“Oh well I’d never thought you’d ask, I work as SeaBrook patrolman, you?” You ignored the sting in your gut “I work as a journalist and a proud activist for the Zombie’s and Werewolves’ against discrimination movement, or ZAWAD, it supports the bright culture of both werewolves and zombies and brings everyone together.

We try to unite the communities in SeaBrook instead of pushing away and we absolutely do try our best too peacefully speak our thoughts and have mindful conversations without violence.”

You spoke proudly watching his intense expression burn into your eyes. He nodded slowly and pursed his lips which confused you nonetheless you still tried to ignore the screaming inside your head and gut ‘make him leave’. ‘this is going to end badly’. Chills scattered down your back in anxiousness.

“That’s interesting and ... very sexy actually, your very passionate about it i can tell”. You internally cringed at that word coming out of his mouth. ‘Sexy’. He definitely wanted something, and it wasn’t a genuine conversation. You froze with disgust his nimble tender cold fingers resting on your knee. “oh uhm, thanks i guess”.

You spoke trying to give him the hint, you weren’t interested even if he was the last person on earth you wouldn’t. His hand inched closer towards your inner thigh a evil smirk plastered on his face. “god your so sexy”. He then leaned his lips towards yours capturing you in his grasp. You didn’t give an inch, you squealed in protest.

You moved your arms to his biceps and tried to push him way from you , he refused now he was on top of you. His rough calloused hands slide up towards your collarbone, you groaned in anger “can you please just stop-- STOP!” You shouted, his breathe was hot against your neck his left hand slide up towards your neck and pressed down onto your windpipe.

You gasped gritting your teeth, you used your right hand to try and push him off but his strength held your arm down. You felt helpless, weak, worthless to know that you had somehow allowed this disgusting being to get ahold of you. That is, until you felt him grasping the metal of your Z-band.

You knew that taking it off could potentially be a very dangerous action, which was only to be taken off in emergencies only. This was a very big problem and it needed to be stopped. His hand gripped the clasp of your band, you felt the dark veins pulsating throughout your body.

Using the strength to lift your left hand which caused a small chime from your Z-band to sound, it unclasped from you wrist and fell somewhere on the floor. In just a few seconds the light around your eyes had turned a deep purple cracks plunging from under them. A low growl erupted from your stomach then submerged to your throat.

The man felt you vibrate from below him, he had suddenly noticed you had changed. He gasped and stood up as you growled and snarled, you inched closer towards him as he took steps back defensively. “Stay the hell away from me you bitch!” He shouted sternly but the anger was hot and boiling inside of you.

Turning into a zombie was something you couldn’t control. It was coded in your genes. Once your Z-band was ripped from you the monster took over inside you, just as it did for anyone. Your vision had turned completely red. The low grumbles and growling roared within you, this is what you were. A monster, and damn, were you proud of it.

You stepped closer to the cowering man as he flared his arms towards you, which unfortunately, only agitated you more. In this moment you were gone, the zombie inside you was controlling you, and you smelt fear. Which was a bad thing. “Your a waste of human life”. Your normal quiet spoken speech had transformed into a lower deep growl. Using your zombie strength you grabbed the human by his leather collar and bite deeply into his neck, the loud scream leaving the dry of his throat.

The blood seeped out of his neck like a river, you lifted him to meet eyes with a demon like growl “next time you better stop”. You seethed before letting him drop to the ground, the now scared human scrambled towards his feet holding the gushing wound his hand covered in red. He disappeared out of the living space and out of your life forever. Or at least you hoped he did. Grunting you walked over towards the crack between the couch and the pale wall, getting on your hands and knees you reach down for the metal bracelet.

After securing it in your grasp you immediately push the clasps together around you wrist. ‘Online’. You let a content sigh slumping back beside the wall the dark veins in your arms slowly recoiled from your arms and legs. Your back ached and your head pounded. The sweet tasting blood of the humans still resting on your lips and along your cheeks.

Finally, after about a few seconds you steadily returned to your feet. Ignoring the few blood spatters that were now fresh on the floor. ‘I’ll clean it up later”. You let a deep sigh release from your lips as you picked up the two wine glasses and brought them to the kitchen and discarded of the waste in the sink.

You were fashioned in the bathroom taking a warm cloth and bringing it towards your face wiping off the dried blood. You sucked in a breathe the sound of your beating heart filling your ears. You didn’t feel at all ashamed for what you had done. That bastard human deserved it.

The overbearing of your anxiety flared, you were worried you might get in huge trouble, since unfortunately, the human is never to blame. You had gone to bed that night in hopes for a better day the next morning -- the only problem was, he saw everything.

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