#fun detail that the mannequin heads turn when you look away from them. remind me of the weeping angels from DW

[velvetjune]

“Things change when you become Director. You suddenly see this dark void for the horror show it truly is, filled with screaming fear we pretend to control.” — Zachariah Trench (Control)

[thewildwaffle]

Haunted Houses

“You know the translators don’t work for written word right?” Danro grunted, eyeing the small tablet screen his human companion held out to him. It was displaying several small human glyphs.

“It’s just a waiver saying you’re okay with coming in, and that if you have any bad effects from the flashing lights or spooky stuff they use, you can’t sue them because you chose to be here willingly, blah blah blah.” Human Addy again held up the tablet. “Basically it’s just the legal-ese version of everything we talked about earlier. I can read through it for you if you really want.”

Danro let out a growling hum. “Just look through it and make sure there’s nothing in there that wasn’t what you told me earlier.”

“No prob.” Addy pulled the waiver back and scanned over it quickly, mumbling to herself under her breath as she read. Danro looked at the human working behind the check-in counter who was doing their best to not be obvious that they were gawking at him. Not that that bothered him or anything. Standing head and shoulders above most other humans and covered in long light brown and white fur, he certainly stood out from the gathered crowd.

“We’re good to go, everything checks out!” Addy declared, handing the tablet and stylus to Danro. “You just need to write a signature at the bottom and we can go in.”

“But I don’t know how to write in your language,” Danro glanced dubiously at the screen.

“Just take it,” Addy pushed the stylus into his large hands, “You can write in your language, it doesn’t matter.”

Danro doubted that. He sighed. Humans and their contracts. They were obsessed with them, and honestly, the more he got to know of their race, the more he started to understand why. Humans, for all their ingenuity and seemingly lovable natures, could be quite underhanded. They could think their way around and through most obstacles, especially when those obstacles were well-established but loosely-defined rules and expectations. Many a treaty or trade agreement had been swung wildly in favor of the party consisting of or including humans. It was like they lived for loopholes and variable interpretations. Intersystem lawyers have been scrambling to learn from and replicate the style humans wrote contracts. After all, only a human contract could (at least somewhat) confidently bind a human.

He scribbled his name in his own familiar letters, figuring that would have to be good enough. He trusted Addy when she said it was just a liability waiver after all. She had already signed one herself. After handing the tablet and stylus back to the kid working the booth, they were off.

As they walked around the entrance gate, Danro’s mind immediately went into overdrive trying to take in and process the scenery. The surrounding buildings creating the quad the event was hosted in were lit up with orange, purple, and green lights. Queues of patrons stretched along the concrete sidewalks that ran between buildings. They were watching costumed dancers in the middle of the quad as they waited to enter the “haunted” buildings. What looked like old metal trash cans had fires lit inside them with small crowds of humans and the occasional alien figure huddled around them. There were smaller lines in front of a few trailers and booths that looked like they were selling very aromatic foods and drinks.

An approaching figure caught Danro’s eye. It was almost as tall as him, draped in a raggedy shawl, and had a grotesquely disfigured face with lacerations running from the top of its head and across one eye. Danro sniffed. He saw blood, but he didn’t smell it. This must be a human actor in a costume, something Addy had warned him of beforehand. They were likely wearing stilts as they were almost eye level to him.

“My my my, what have we here!” The actor’s voice was both screechy and gravely, a combination that made Danro’s fur prickle slightly. "I've seen many a ghost and ghoul in these mansions, but I've yet to encounter any of the likes of you two." They made an exaggerated show of looking between Danro and Addy, as if sizing them up. “What do I call you two apparitions?”

Addy gave a small chuckled and gestured to herself. “I’m Addy, I’m a human. And this is Danro, he’s a kexi biet.”

“Mortals?!” The mask wobbled a bit as the actor stepped back dramatically and then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “I’d keep that information to yourselves while you’re here. Who knows what lurking terror might overhear and decide to snack on your bones!”

Danro smiled indulgently at the costumed human. They were certainly well in character.

“We’ll be sure to not mention it again,” he nodded.

“Be sure that you don’t!” the mask rose up so that the fake, glossy eyes were almost level with his own. “You are a brave biet, Danro. Brave, or perhaps foolish. I do hope you and your small companion survive. Come.” They turned and led them towards the center of the quad. They paused and waited for them to catch up next to one of the trash can fires. “Have either of you been here before?”

Addy nodded, “Yeah but it’s been YEARS.” Danro shook his head.

“What a treat, then.” They pointed to one of the closer buildings with a purple light out front. Danro noticed that the actor’s costume was detailed down to the largely uneven stitches on their sleeves. It gave their arm an odd shape. Or at least, he hoped the odd shape of their arm was just part of the costume.

“Each of these buildings is haunted, some more than others. They are color-coded by the lights of how ‘dangerous’ they are.”

“So is that one the safest?” Addy dipped her head to the building being pointed to.

Their guide only laughed ominously. “Present your passes to the attendants by the door. No running, no pushing, no flashlights or video, no explicit language as it disturbs our… residents, and keep your hands to yourself if you’d like to keep your hands.”

And without another word, their guide ambled off. Addy shuffled a little closer to the fire and grinned at Danro.

“Alrighty then! Which one do you want to do first?”

Danro looked around at the quad. The dancers finished their song and were now walking and milling away to tents to warm up or rest, smallish humans were carefully nibbling on a pink puffy food on a stick that looked suspiciously like hair. The buildings themselves loomed around them, lit by their colored lights and the flickering fires around the quad. Their boarded up windows gave no indication of what was inside, although they couldn’t quite muffle the occasional scream from within.

“I’d prefer it if we could find the one that’s the mildest first,” Danro admitted. “Kind of ease myself into this, if you will.”

“No worries, bud.” Addy started towards the building with the green lights. “I think that would be this one. Green usually means easy, or mild, or good or whatever.”

That’s not what green was usually associated with on his planet, but hey, trying to scare yourself as a method of amusement and recreation wasn’t really a thing back home either. This was all very new to him.

The line in front of the green building moved pretty quickly. As they approached the front, Addy put a hand on his arm and looked up at him.

“Hey, thanks again for coming. These things aren’t nearly as much fun alone.”

Danro smiled. “Thank you for the invite.” Addy had invited a few more from their crew once she knew they’d be planetside on Earth just before what she claimed was one of her favorite holidays. He had been the only one to accept. A few others had gone to a “corn maze” with another human from the crew. Apparently, it wasn’t “haunted” and so appealed to more crewmates. Danro accepted the invitation because it saddened him to think of Addy going somewhere scary alone. That, and afterward it would be known across the ship of how much more brave he was than those who were too afraid to come.

The attendants at the door reminded them of the rules, marked their passes, and opened the doors for them.

Once inside, the doors shut noisily and Danro could feel the confidence he’d held on to outside drip away. His senses were being thrown off in here. The lights were dim, which isn’t too bad, he didn’t have great night vision, but it was alright. But there was something wrong here. He couldn’t tell why, but he could feel it. As Addy started down a narrow corridor covered with cobwebs, he took a deep breath and told himself it was just his nerves. Or maybe, he thought as they continued down the winding corridor, it was all this smoke stuff. It wasn’t real smoke, it smelled different, like minerals instead of burned materials. That was also throwing him off. The first time he saw an amputated human arm dangling out of a bag, he nearly freaked out. It was only when they passed right by it that he realized he didn’t actually smell any blood. He clutched Addy’s shoulder ahead of him as they walked by.

Danro muttered to himself. “It’s not a real arm. It’s not real. It’s not real.” He was really just saying it to himself, but from the way Addy looked back and up at him, he knew she must have heard him.

The next room was divided by a series of ripped and filthy “curtains.” As soon as they entered, Danro growled. The lights here were flashing strobe lights, making it difficult to see. There were human-sized figures standing in the room. As they passed by, he realized they weren’t human, but some sort of mannequins. Good, he sighed. Some of them looked grotesquely mangled and mortally wounded. He was glad they weren’t actual humans. As they were deep into the large room, his heart nearly stopped as he realized that some of them were moving. No, he thought, no, it had to just be a trick of the strobe lights.

Near the exit of the room, one definitely moved. The figure jumped out at them with a gravely yell. Addy screamed and jumped back. Danro froze momentarily and had to remind himself to not attack. They weren’t in danger. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t-

Addy scampered through the exit without him. Danro did his best to maneuver after her. The figure that had scared them stared at him with white eyes. That… that’s not normal. Humans have colorful and/or dark eyes. They smiled at him, baring their teeth. Even when normal humans smiled like that, Danro found it disconcerting, but this was on a whole different level. This felt genuinely dangerous.

Addy was waiting for him in the next room.

“Sorry,” she panted. “Didn’t mean to leave you behind back there.”

“Their eyes,” he whispered loudly to her, as if worried they’d overhear and come after them from their room.

“I didn’t even see their eyes. Were they creepy?”

Danro nodded.

Addy smiled, without baring her teeth, Danro noted appreciatively. “This place has really stepped up their game since the last time I was here.”

They continued through, warily watching out for hiding figures, walking through narrow maze-like halls, over uncomfortably soft and uneven ground, and through a tunnel where the walls looked like they were spinning around them. He nearly lost his balance off the walkway. He could have sworn the ground was moving. Even after they passed through that and went up a flight of stairs, he could still feel the dizzying effects. Coupled with his sense of sight and smell being confused around nearly every turn, he was starting to feel the tendrils of dread creeping into his mind. As they rounded a turn, he immediately noticed a dark figure moving in the corner. They looked like they were climbing the walls. After a few heartbeats of analyzing its movements, he realized it was mechanical. Good, it was just a prop then. As they walked through the room, bright lights strobed and the figure on the walls flew at them. Addy screamed again and ran to the door. Danro jumped up and fell back on the ground. The figure jerked to a stop in the air a pace or two away, and slowly retracted back to the wall. As Danro scrambled back up to his feet, he noticed the folding metal lattice mechanics that moved the dark creature. As terrified as he was, he had to admit that that was quite a creative scare.

There were several other rooms they walked through with no actors inside, just creepy dolls and mannequins or unsettling objects that made Danro’s fur prickle. There was a long hall with poor lighting and a very low ceiling that even Addy had to duck to get through.

“I hope nothing tries to scare us in here,” Danro muttered as he squeezed through the narrow passageway. “I don’t think I’d be able to get away very fast.” “I don’t think there’s anything in here. Or at least there wasn’t when I came through here when I was in high school. I think this part’s mostly “scary” because it’s supposed to make you feel claustrophobic.”

Danro scanned the bare cinder block and exposed dim light bulbs along the narrow passageway. Well, he thought, it was certainly claustrophobic in here. He could feel his heart rate increase the longer they walked through here and was incredibly relieved when they reached the end. Addy helped him watch his step as he climbed down from the small exit and into the dim cellar-like room.

"Are you okay?"  She carefully brushed some fake cobwebs from the fur on his arms.

“I’m fine. There aren’t any more small tunnels like that though, are there?” Danro, much like many biets, did not enjoy tight spaces.

“I think there’s another one in one of the other buildings, but it’s nowhere near as constrictive as that, or as long.” She looked up at him with a concerned expression. “Is that alright? You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Danro smiled and nodded. “I’ll be fine. I got through this so far, I can handle it. Plus, it’s more fun to do these things together, right?”

Addy’s smile was worth any fright this place could throw at him anyway.

They pressed on and got a few more screams out of Addy and a few more alarmed jumps from Danro. As they rounded another corner and entered another dark room, Danro paused, senses alert to the scene before them. Something felt off, though he couldn’t place the reason why. His fur stood on end and he swore he could see his and Addy’s breath. He could see places where actors were likely hiding in wait to scare them, but that wasn’t where his attention was focused. There was something different about this room and it made his heart rate skyrocket.

He thought he saw movement in the corner of his vision, but when he turned his focus there, expecting to see an actor sneaking towards them, there was nothing. Addy slowly crept deeper into the dark room ahead of him. Not wanting to be separated in a place like this, he tried to stay close. Halfway through the room though, he froze. Did he really see… he swore mentally. Was that a chirnu? What was a thing like that doing in a human attraction? What was it doing here at all? It had no right, no right to exist outside biet folklore and nightmares. The living shadow, or the fang of the shadows, depending on who was telling the story. Danro closed his eyes instinctively. Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it and it might not look at you.

“Danro,” Addy whispered, realizing she no longer felt his hairy bulk behind her.

He said nothing but willed her to remain quiet. The chirnu might hear her if it hadn’t already.

“Danro, we’re almost at the end, just a little further.” She reached back to put a hand on his arm.

A loud shriek and rush of movement made them both jump. Danro swept Addy into his arms and ran. To gadring with the rules! He ran! He could hear laughter behind him and taunting voices that may or may not have been human, at this point he didn’t know nor care. He could smell fresh air ahead and it seemed to be like a beacon of hope to him.

“Danro!” Addy cried out but was cut off by a loud growl to their left. A figure jumped out from the shadows, donned in a ripped cloak, and holding a weapon that Danro later realized was a human tool used for cutting lumber.

How the heck had this maniac gotten in here with that?! Danro dodged to the right. Addy screamed and held on so tightly to Danro’s fur that she might have pulled a few tufts loose. The maniac with the saw laughed and gave chase.

This was a mistake! This was a mistake! This was a mistake!

Maybe if he could just make it outside where the crowds were, they could lose their pursuer. Surely he wouldn’t give chase into public?

Danro barreled through the final door and out into the chilly air outside. Relief! The roar of the saw was still right behind, and so he kept up with his pace. Thankfully, their pursuer didn’t seem to be able to keep up and eventually stopped a ways outside the door to laugh and Danro and Addy ran around the corner of the building and back to the crowded quad area.

Once he was absolutely sure they were no longer being followed, he stopped only long enough to set Addy back on the ground before he started again for the main entrance.

“Hey! Wait, where are you going?” Addy bounded after him.

“We need to let someone know. They need to be warned before someone gets killed!”

“What? Wait, do you- do you mean the chainsaw guy?” Addy was now at his side, but struggling to keep up. “That’s just part of the whole thing, it’s a classic end to a haunted house. There’s no actual chain or blade or whatever, it’s safe.”

Danro slowed and turned to face Addy. He studied her face. She was smiling and didn’t seem at all worried that they had almost been killed by a psycho with a “chain saw.” He took a few deep breaths to slow his heart down. “It’s not real? We’re fine?” He finally managed to ask.

Addy smiled and nodded. “We’re fine. So, first time through a haunted house, what did you think?” Danro looked back to the building they had just run out of. He stared hard at it, trying to make sense of the whole experience. Or mostly, trying to make sense of what he had seen in that last room. Had he really seen what he thought he saw?

“Danro? Are you okay?” Addy’s worried tone snapped him back.

“I thought…” he was almost embarrassed to ask now. Admitting that he had seen what would be to her an alien monster, a mythical alien monster at that, seemed to be a bit laughable now that they were back in the safety of the quad. Addy continued to look at him though, expecting him to finish his thought.

“I thought I saw… a chirnu in there in that last room,” he admitted quietly.

Addy blinked. “Chirnu? What’s that?”

He grimaced. It was said that talking about them could help them hunt you down later. As briefly as he could, he described the monster that terrorized biet folklore.

Addy listened intently and nodded. When he was done, she hummed. “That does sound pretty bad. But I’m pretty sure we’re okay. I don’t think what you saw in there was a chirnu.”

Relief flooded Danro’s system. He felt silly even entertaining the idea that chirinu were for one thing, real, and another thing, here on Earth. Although, that did leave one question.

“Then what did I see?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure. That last room was definitely creepier than the others. I think it’s genuinely haunted.” Danro tilted his head and Addy laughed. “Although if I had to venture a guess, from your description I’d say it was probably a giant rubber spider. That room did kind of have a spider theme if you didn’t notice.” “Spider theme?”

“Yeah, I think the whole building kind of had a “phobia” theme to it. Arachnophobia is the fear of spiders. Lots of people have it. I just didn’t know biets had it too.”

Danro straightened his back in mock indignation. “I’m not afraid of spiders.”

Addy laughed. “Okay, then you were just pretending back there?”

Danro frowned, but the human’s happy energy was too much and he eventually cracked and smiled back. He looked around at the other patrons, mostly humans, who were waiting anxiously in line. They came to be scared. They wanted to be scared. How odd. And yet, Danro could feel himself still riding the high of his fight or flight senses. From what he understood, humans experienced a similar feeling, heightened by the production of a hormone called adrenaline. He could see how places like this might seem attractive to those seeking that rush.

“Well,” he responded airily, “I thought the whole point was to pretend to be scared.”

Addy laughed and teased. He teased back, recalling and imitating her many screams. They continued doing so while they waited in line to buy a bag of what Addy called “popcorn” and two caramel covered apples. Addy said they were some of her favorites, and caramel apples were a fall tradition. Danro enjoyed both. He smiled as he listened to Addy continue on about things she loved about the season and upcoming holiday before they went to wait in line for the building with the orange light.

That night became, quite possibly, one of his fondest memories. Humans are weird. They think getting scared on purpose is fun. Maybe Danro was a bit weird too because he whole-heartedly agreed.

[sparkexplosive]

Sentiment [Izuku Midoriya] ; 06

Precious Chapters in Sentiment [Izuku Midoriya] SERIES

Warning: Mental Health

Word Count: 2,010

Midoriya Izuku was standing in front of the invention room with his hero costume case because he broke his shoes once again. He is afraid to look at your face, but he needs to face you. Perhaps he isn’t ready to face you yet. He was about to turn around to walk away to ask Mei to fix his shoes instead. To only get startled by the sliding door opening to reveal Misaka. 

“Oh! Midoriya. What may I help you?” Misaka calmly gave off the customer service voice along with a smile. 

Midoriya couldn’t speak properly to the only rush through his word which leads it to be a scrambled mess. 

Misaka’s eye twitches in annoyance. She could never really deal with his random rambles. She looks on both sides of the hallway before grabbing his collar and yanking him inside. Midoriya was about to fall on his face due to the sudden pull into the room. She walks away from him to sit down on her chair to continue working on Kirishima shoulder designs, after testing it would be sustainable enough against Kirishima unbreakable form without shattering into pieces from her previous prototypes. 

She is just ignoring his presence until he learns how to speak. She is already irritated by him how Midoriya is not even standing up for (Name), her best friend. His friends are speaking to her best friend with hurtful words that would break anyone down especially under his watch is unacceptable. A screwdriver floats towards her which reminded him of his mother's quirk. 

Midoriya gulps down his saliva, sensing tension in the air and looks over to your desk to find it surprisingly neat and cleaned as if it hasn’t been touched for a few days. It's an unusual sight to see it so organized compared to the times he has been in here. His eyes wander off to Misaka's side of the room to see her blueprints on the cardboard. He does recall that you did mention that Misaka switched with Hatsume Mei because her room was a lot closer to the inventory room. 

The blueprints of her designs and items for Kirishima Eijirou upgraded costume pinned on the cardboard. She has a mannequin that was holding fabric that could be for his lower cape. In front of her were pauldrons blueprints with the design details. Misaka was adding the details on his pauldrons and messing with internal parts that seem to contain wires. 

“It’s coming out very well, Misaka.” Midoriya tries to break the tension in the air, before speaking for the real reason for his trip here. “Could you perhaps fix my shoes?”  

Misaka glances over to him and walks over to him to hastily take the case from him to evaluate the damage. She did catch his eyes looking over to your working station earlier. 

“She is banned from using this room for fighting one of your fangirls along with damaged property.” 

Misaka answers without him saying it out loud and takes the black metal shoes off his case to only collapse into different small pieces. Both of them just stare at the floor where the metal pieces collapsed into smaller pieces. “Well then. I could make a replica for you. It might be ready in the late afternoon tomorrow, b-” 

Midoriya brims up at the news with a small smile instead of his usual big grins. “Thank you!” 

She stops to turn to face him. “But!”

She stares closes the case hastily, before turning her blue eyes back into his green eyes. “Do you know about the rumors going around about (Name)?” 

Midoriya was taken back at the question but narrowed his eyebrows. “I only know about the check, but it turns out to be true.” 

Midoriya unconsciously flinches recalling the rumor was true and all the emotions that he has been pushing down resurface at once. She evacuates his body language and his eyes to see he is telling the truth. He seems to hang on by accepting the fact that your relationship was building on the bride. 

“Well, your friends are belittling (name) by telling her. She is a whore to slut because of the rumors going around. They are getting dramatized and getting out of hand. The rumors are getting worse every passing day. Unless you set it straight. It would calm down the rumors.” She carefully watches his body language and his eyes. 

From the dark lines underneath his eyes and more messy hair than usual. It seems he has been wrecked as well. The evidence is physical that he hasn’t been sleeping very well. Midoriya hasn't been able to sleep for the past couple of days due to getting nightmares repeatedly. 

But from his expression, he didn’t know at all, filled with shock, and a mixture of surprise was written all over his face. His eyes were wide open and his mouth agape. Before he closes his mouth before licking them and gulping down his saliva. “I haven’t been paying attention of late.”

‘I have been in mind all day and night,’ He thought to himself. 

His demons belittling why him and losing destroying himself confidence. The only time he can distract himself is by burying himself in schoolwork and training to quiet down that voice in his head. The other times, he unconsciously is blocking the world around him which makes his friends and classmates worry about him since he has been a less talkative and energetic ball of energy who is an excellent observer and analyzing at hand. 

Aizawa asks him to go to the counselor's office today or tomorrow. He knows that Aizawa is worried about him to personally ask him to look for help.  

His fingers fidget with the side of his tie as he licks his dry lips to confess.“I have mostly been in my world-”

“You have been in your mind. Midoriya. You are being your own worst enemy. Overthinking to thinking the worst possibilities. That's what you usually do.” Misaka interrupts him, before walking into your work station. 

She opens a drawer to go through it to see your blueprint on what your design to offer to Midoriya. She stares at it for a second before taking it out and reaching underneath the table to pull out brown boxes that contain two metal cases with one of them has a red ribbon. She places the blueprint inside and holds out to him if only he wants to accept. 

“[Name] might murder me for giving this to you. Its new equipment that they overworked themselves making sure this gift to you would be on time. But you know…. This would have been a future design blueprint. Just take a look and give those babies a try.”

Midoriya didn’t know what to say. His throats were dried up but his eyes landed on a red envelope attached to the metal case with red ribbon. It was possible the anniversary gift that she would have given him today. He forgot today was their anniversary before all this happened. They had plans but everything changed. He needed space and time to think. Y/N gave him the space that he asked and respected his decision. 

But the curiosity is killing him wanting to know what they are inside those metal cases. He unconsciously reaches over to grab onto the box to find it surprising a little heavy. 

“Take them and think would someone go through deep ends to create something so accurate for your liking and safety if they didn’t care about you. If you think you don’t want to accept it, you can go back and return them to me. I will have your replacements here waiting for you.” Misaka light heart comments. 

Midoriya looks up from the box to look into her eyes. “Thank you.”

____________________________________

The day before getting emotional after school, surprisingly you had a wonderful time with the loudmouth student from Class A-3, Bakugou Katsuki. He had surprisingly cheered you up with some food and fun time at the arcade. It was memorable and the most fun you had ever experienced in an arcade. The two of you were being competitive trying to beat each other's scores. 

You did realize in his way, he was distracting you from what happened the day before.

“Don’t let those extras get into your head. The only person you need to approve is yourself.” Bakugou advises while pointing at you with his chopsticks. 

Your eyes had widened shows bewildered at his words as if he was speaking from experience, once his words sucked in which brought a wide grin on your lips. 

“Thank you.” Your eyes were starting to shine like before the incident happened with the rumors. Your eyes are a portal to how you feel. 

Bakugou rolls his eyes, “You should know this by now. Extra's opinions shouldn’t matter.” 

He knew you were hurting inside while putting on a strong face in front of everyone. But everyone has their limits by putting on that armor to make people intimate from messing with you. He knows it very well. 

As he refused for you to pay for the dinner bill to pay him back from playing in the arcade. You know arcades are not cheap but expensive. However, he beat you from paying by taking his credit card before you could. 

“Save that money for your mouth-” He exclaims calmly. 

“Bakugou, that's a lot of money. Let m-.” You tried to reason with him, but he continues to shoot you down. 

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Get it through your thick brain!” Bakugou slashing out, clearly getting irritated by you bugging him about paying him back. He clearly refuses to accept your money.  

At the end of the day, you were conflicted about how to feel about Bakugou since you saw another side of Bakugou that you haven’t seen until now. It's like Kirishima said to you before when you asked for Bakugou help for the gloves that you created for Midoriya. 

“He has a good heart, he just roughs around the edges. Give him time, he will get comfortable with you.” 

You had witnessed what Kirishima was talking about yesterday. Bakugou has a different way of showing he cares. However what caught you off guard when he had walked you back to your dorms like your bodyguard intimidating any students from looking over to you. 

You turn around in front of the steps of your dorm to thank him. “Thank you for everything. Bakugou.” 

Bakugou simply nods, like typical behavior for him. When you were turning around to walk up the stairs. He had grasped your wrist stopping you at your tracks. 

“You can call me. Katsuki, only if you want to... Have a nice night.” He lets go from your wrist. 

You were shocked that Bakugou even suggested it, but knew it's a big deal for him to permit him to call him by his first name. It could mean numerous things, but that is the moment you thought. He trusts you. 

Once you had sucked in his words, you only smiled back at him.

“I will be taking up that offer. Good night, Katsuki!” 

Unknown to you, Bakugoug Katsuki could feel his heart skip a beat from hearing your voice calling him by his first name. He couldn’t explain it, but it makes him feel weird in a way that is not normal for him. 

A small smile curls up to his lips while he was walking back to his dorms while recalling what happened that afternoon. He did have a lot of fun playing video games with you in an attempt to distract you from what is happening in school. 

He does care about you but is unsure why he is feeling this sort of way ever since the two of you started working together for your project of gloves. He has gotten comfortable with your presence more than he would like to admit. 

Perhaps, he has a crush on you….

It can’t be…, right?

______________________________

I would love to hear any predictions or theories, you guys have!

Feedback is appreciated!

Please be kind within the comments. I hope you are enjoying the story. Sorry for any spelling or grammar errors.

if anyone wishes to be tagged, either send me an ask or comment below this post! Taglist will be in the comments.

[onisiondrama]

(Note: I’m not repeating stories he’s told before and just putting them in parenthesis. I have a lot more videos to go until I’m caught up so that would save me a lot of time. If he gives details I never heard from him before, I will type those.)

“The New Onision Gossip (^_^)” September 26, 2020 - Speaks

- He says he assumes there’s a new rumor because he was spammed on Twitch with comments implying he struck someone he’s married to. He says he addresses every rumor because it interests him and because if he doesn’t people think they are facts. - He doesn’t know where the rumor came from. He finds it the same as the stuff he’s dealt with for some time. People not needing proof, just going off of feelings. The masses bombarded his stream and said it was reality. If you’re in your late 20′s or older, you get fed up with high school drama. - Says Kai was ahead a grade when he was in high school, so he was a senior when they met. He told Kai the other day that if Kai never jumped a grade, he never would have talked to him. He wouldn’t date a high schooler. He was 26 and Kai was 9 years younger than him. - Says he once screwed up and said he spoke to Kai’s dad and his dad told him to come back in 10 years when Kai is 25. He says it doesn’t make sense and it was idiocy on his part. He says there are at least 40 witnesses that know they never spoke until later. The first time he thinks Kai tweeted him was October 2011. He says they started talking around the time Shiloh cheated on him. - (Shiloh cheated story) He says after they broke up, Shiloh made an essay about how great of a boyfriend he was. [I think he’s talking about this?] He says she was trying to woo him back after he left her. He made a song, Her Lies, instead of taking her back. He tells his audience to stream it on Spotify. Says Shiloh would try to threaten suicide when he broke up with her. He admits he did the same over his alimony payments. (Alimony story, divorce story, Skye was lazy and depressed) - Says when he first met Skye she was a social outcast. She reminded him of Wednesday Addams. He first saw her in a gymnasium, they were in the same class. He found her different than everyone else and he thought that was interesting. He walked over to her and she acted like he was a d-bag for trying to talk to her. “Typical girl emo-ness.” He waited it out and she warmed up to him. One day she invited him over to her house over AOL instant messenger. Her sister opened the door and he thought “oh my god! She looks so happy! She looks so full of life!” He says he thought her sister was her. He saw Skye walk into the picture and she was emo as ever. Same mopey, depressed person. He says for some reason he wanted to be the guy that will hang out with her, make her happy, and make her save herself from herself. - They dated for a month and he broke up with her because he realized he’d never make her happy no matter how hard he tried. He went to basic training and while he was there he decided to ask her to marry her to get more military benefits. He says she was his closest friend and he wanted to travel with her. He says it was fun. He’s kind of glad he married her, but he’s not happy about how it ended because of the alimony. (more alimony story, they took his stuff from his house story) - All of his experiences helped him learn a lot about people. He realizes most people are selfish. They live in their heads and they don’t think about other people. He doesn’t play hero anymore to protect himself. - He says he left his ex-wife for a girl because he was excited she was a Canadian pop star. He says it was very shallow and superficial. He says he was in love with her because of how exciting and interesting she was. It was one of the most intense relationships he’s been in. He says there was a supernatural element, she was one of those women that would say they knew each other in a past life. He thinks that was something she said in that goodbye letter she wrote for him after she cheated. She said maybe they’ll be together in the next life. It made him want to puke because she just cheated. - He had to call the cops on her so many times and he convinced himself it was normal. People who stay in relationships like that stay because they are told no one else will want them. He actually says Shiloh’s name and says she told him no one would love him as much as she loved him. He says it’s not quite the same. He says people who hated him loved him more than Shiloh because she got pregnant with another man’s baby. - (Shiloh body slamming the door story) He says when he pushed her with one arm through the door she dramatically fell to the floor and called him abusive. Since she called him abusive, he called the cops to ask them what they think. He says he thinks they saw the hysteria in her and the calm in him. He just broke up with her and wanted space and to sleep in his own room. He asks what you would think if Shiloh was the one holding the door and he was the one trying to body slam his way in. She would be the one pushing him with one arm away from the door so she could lock it. He says you would think of “here’s Johnny” from The Shinning. Insane mental imbalance. When you switch the genders, the guy is always wrong. He says the cops took his side. They took Shiloh aside and he could still hear them. They told her to stay away from him and leave him alone. They told her to give him space and to let him sleep in his room and she did. He says he thinks he let her sleep in the same room after because he felt bad for calling the cops. - He says there is a really weird thing she did to get him to have affection for her. He says he went to Lover’s Package with her because she was complaining that she had physical needs. He said he’s not willing to sleep with her or date her because it’s too toxic, but he’ll buy her something. He says while he was there he saw a mannequin and he thought to himself, “do women really get that skinny?” because he was with 170lb, 5 foot Shiloh for so long. He says it was normal to him that she was the same weight as him, but 11 inches shorter. He says that’s medically obese. He says he appreciated her physical form. She asked if she should lose weight he would tell her it’s not an issue. Says one time she asked him if she was obese and he said she was and she freaked out. He started crying because she said she was going to end her life because of that. He says it was rude to say even though it was science. - She told him she could get as skinny as the mannequin if he wanted her to. He says he didn’t know what to say because it wasn’t an awful idea for him to be with someone that shape. He says he got her a d-i-l-d-o, he thinks it was a vibrator. She tried to use it in the tub. She calls him in and she tells him it’s not the same when she does it on her own and she asks for help. He says they were broken up but, but they were both adults so he tried to help. He doesn’t remember how it went, but they wound up dating again. He thinks it was her strategy. - He has the Remember Love tattoos because she would guilt trip him. [hentai break up story] He didn’t want to get her name because he didn’t think the relationship would last forever. He says he got the tattoos on his wrists to remind him not to watch hentai because he uses his hands to jerk off. - He says one time he was playing Mortal Kombat and she put her mouth on him. She noticed he got more aroused when Sheeva came out. He says he’s not even attracted to Sheeva, but he was so deprived from not being able to watch internet porn. - [Shiloh & his ex-sister-in-law’s adult photos story] - He says he had chemistry with his ex-sister-in-law, but they never had anything. Their age gap was not appropriate in his mind. He was 18 when she was 15. He says it might have been legal, but he didn’t feel it was appropriate. [ex-mother-in-law scammed a website story] - His ex-grandma in law said she would shoot the president. His ex-mother-in-law said she’d supply the gun. His ex-sister-in-law said she’d supply the bullet. He says these were white people talking about a black person. - He says this is heavy content, but he has no reason not to talk about it. He thinks his ex-sil was brainwashed politically by her mom. He says he was hateful toward George Bush because he was in-part responsible for over 1 million innocent Iraqi deaths. He says he killed more people than the current president. - Says one time his ex-mil let his ex-sil and her friend drink. She told them not to drink the whole bottle. They were not old enough to drink, but he didn’t stop them because it would destroy his relationship with everyone in that household. His ex-wife would make sure they were ok and didn’t hurt themselves. They would take turns distracting his ex-wife so the other one would be alone with him and hug him. He says he was not married to his ex-wife yet. He thought the hugs were fine. Says when he was alone in the bathroom with his ex-sil she tried to kiss him. He turned his head because of their age gap. That night they all laid in the front room on the carpet except for his ex-wife. She asked why they were laying on the ground and he told her not to worry about it. He says he was holding hands with his ex-sil. He says this gives you an idea of his moral compass. Hugging and holding hands are ok. Kissing is not not ok. He says when he was at Osan Air Base, the Korean marines were holding hands while skip marching. That’s when he realized he liked the Korean military more because there was love in that group. They cared about each other.  - He fell asleep holding her hand under the blankets. When he woke up, she said “what the F?” He guesses when she was drink she thought she wanted to hold hands with him.  - He says you can jump to judgments about him, but he tells you so deeply who he is, a guy who refused to kiss someone that was intoxicated with a three year age gap. He says holding hands is platonic. If it was sexual, mothers wouldn’t hold hands with their kids. Hugs are fine. - He says there was a gay guy who came over their house. He hugged and held hands with Kai. Platonic people do that all the time. - He’s not sure if he dated his ex yet when that drinking story happened. - He says he and his ex-sil played video games together and hung out a lot, but after that incident, he wrote her an email. He wrote there’s a chemistry between them, but it’s not something he can’t pursue. He wants her to know she’s a special person to him, but it can’t be a thing. She hated him from that point on. He felt like she was an awesome person. - They made videos together later on and she was so funny. She was so cool, talented, edgy. He says she could be praised by the masses. She’s like the female LeafyIsHere in a lot of ways. He offered to pay her to be in his videos long after he divorced her sister. It was exciting working with her. - He says he never beat Shiloh. He called her for domestic issues and they always sided with him. He says it’s rare when the cops take the man’s side. Women cry and men yell, but it was the opposite. Shiloh wrapped her arms around him because she was trying to stop him from calling the cops. The phone fell out of his hand. He did successfully called the cops. They told him to move so he wouldn't be there when she got back from her mental evaluation after she threatened to frame him for murder. - He says in the past there’s a reason why the mass majority always took his side. It’s because he’d make videos like this to tell people how it was. - Says the Twitch chat was saying, “you beat your wife.” He told them, “what wife? I’m married to a dude.” He says it was a weird stream and he wore a mustache and sunglasses while rocking out to Rammstein.

[clansayeed]

Things Worth Keeping, or the Annual Raines Corp. Fourth of July Charity Gala

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil)

⥼ Summary ⥽

Kamilah takes great care in preserving some of the more sentimental articles of clothing she's acquired over the years. Nadya realizes she might have a historical costume kink.

word count: 2,775 rating: teen+ content warnings: language, brief political discourse, implied sexual undertones, implied kink

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽ 

So it turns out every time there’s an event that requires Kamilah’s attendance (specifically requires, since the Awakening Ball was both some weird vampire-political obligation and her wanting to see Marcel again) the mannequins come out.

Only for costume events though.

Or… she’s decided ‘every’ just because what are the chances she’s lucky enough to behold the sight of Kamilah Sayeed in period wear twice in one year? Apparently very good, very good indeed.

The vampire takes it upon herself to explain while fussing with a few collars and sleeves rumpled in transit. Nadya takes it upon herself to listen intently — takes everything in her willpower not to take notes. “Indeed one comes to terms rather early on that all objects are replaceable and their worth is only what the owner projects upon them,” which is quite a lot judging by the little smile Nadya sees peeking at the corner of Kamilah’s lips as she works, “and because I have had the misfortune of losing things I once coveted, I see no harm in preserving that which has stayed with me.”

Nadya adjusts her seat on the couch; makes sure the lid on her travel mug is secure otherwise she’ll never be allowed to drink in the front room again. “Is that a really fancy way of saying ‘I think it’s really pretty and I want to keep it that way?’”

Kamilah goes still. Not the tense kind of still that makes Nadya want to stuff her words back in her mouth but the kind of still she’s come to understand will reap very wise rewards. If she’s patient enough.

She’s learning to be patient enough.

“I suppose if you wish to bring the sentiment down to the simplest terms… yes.”

And oh man even that little agreement has Nadya buzzing excited.

“I’m so excited — this is gonna be so much fun!”

“What it will be, Nadya, is a gross exaggeration more akin to a serial drama than the real thing.”

“Wow, grumpy pants. Where’s your sense of patriotism?”

“In the same gutter as the ideals on which this nation was founded.”

Okay, fair point. But that brings up a very good series of questions all scrambling to make themselves heard. Which goes about as well as it always does and leaves Nadya tongue-tied and mute.

More than a few times Kamilah throws subtle looks in Nadya’s direction. Totally discreet and casual — done while circling a dress here, adjusting a cravat there. And each time she asks some variation of “Are you sure this is how you wish to spend your evening?” Nadya gives her the same answer.

“There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.”

The final time Kamilah is just close enough to turn crisp on her heel and bring them face to face. Her deep honey eyes roam Nadya’s face and spare no detail; like she’s one of those pretty dresses Kamilah’s kept after all these years.

It makes Nadya feel small and big, whole down to the tips of her toes but also just a sliver in Kamilah’s long long life. Which is a lot to feel for someone of her size. Maybe too much.

Cool, soft lips on her forehead force Nadya to open eyes she didn’t know she was squeezing shut. No longer scrutinizing, now the vampiress allows them both a rare glimpse behind the mask. To the concern she guards close and reserves for those she cares about.

Adrian, Gerard, Marcel… Nadya.

She cares about me that way. Holy cow.

“You truly mean that.” Kamilah says and it isn’t a question. Kamilah isn’t in the business of asking stupid questions to which she knows the answers — that’s Nadya’s ball game.

“Of course I do.”

“Forgive my surprise.”

“Always.”

It’s just a kiss. People kiss all the time, all over the world. But those people aren’t Nadya and they aren’t kissing Kamilah so they couldn’t possibly know how wonderful and important and loved each one makes her feel.

Along with all the other things that make her squeak when they part. It’s impossible to miss that look in Kamilah’s gaze.

“While I enjoy your company immensely Nadya… I may have to ask you to leave,” even though the trace of her finger over Nadya’s lips kind of contradicts that, “as I do have to attend a conference call before the night is through.”

Nadya doesn’t even care that her pout is a little childish. “I thought you took the day off for this.”

“I took a half day for this. You were the one who insisted on losing an entire night’s productivity to help me choose my attire.”

“I’ll be quiet?” There’s no harm in trying, right? Thankfully Kamilah still seems more amused than anything.

“You misunderstand.”

Does she, though, because there are only so many ways to take the sudden closeness. Kamilah’s hands braced atop the back of the couch pinning Nadya between the cushion and her permanence, the contradictory darkness in her bright eyes with their lowered lashes, and oh my god that smirk…

Then Kamilah’s leaning in to whisper in her ear and she’s just—just jello, absolute jello. “I had hoped to be finished by now, yet I keep finding myself distracted.”

Jello or not though Nadya will always be Nadya.

“I—I can leave, if… if that’s what you want.” I know work is important to you. I know schedules are important to you even though your organizational methods are outdated and frankly anxiety-inducing. I know you have a lot to get done and only so many hours of moonlight to do it…

Kamilah doesn’t answer. Instead just taps the underside of Nadya’s chin with her pointer finger and gives a smile in reward when the human lifts her head obediently.

“What do you want, Nadya?”

You know what I want, she would normally say, but if she did then all their… all their training would be for nothing. And don’t memories of that (as recent as, uhm, three in the afternoon today) make her zone out somewhere over Kamilah’s shoulder.

Seven mannequins; still headless, still creepy. Four beautiful ballgowns and a priceless Egyptian kalasiris†, a definitely custom-tailored zoot suit, and…

Holy broad stripes and bright stars.

“I asked you a question.”

Oh yeah, she’s definitely wearing that.

Kamilah doesn’t have to remind her twice. Nadya leans forward what little she can; basks shamelessly in the one thing in the entire world she knows she’s earned—

The way Kamilah looks at her with absolute pride.

“You. I want you.”

Its so fulfilling to see all her hard work come together in one place, on one night, and with the promise of fireworks to come. There’s just something about fireworks. She loves ‘em.

Jax lets out his fifth heavy and long-suffering sigh of the minute. A personal best, but Nadya’s having too much fun to ruin the night by telling him.

Unfortunately her hoop skirt makes it hard to sidle up for a hip-check. Cue sigh number six.

“You know I’m technically the hostess for this thing, right?”

“Are you saying you’re the person I complain to?”

She huffs. “No, I’m saying that your grumpy face is personally offending me.”

She can’t tell if he’s purposefully avoiding her eyes out of spite or shame — then a roaring yelp of laughter from the dance floor draws Nadya’s attention out to where Lily and Maricruz spin fast-paced and free; held together by just their hands and their shared looks of ‘I couldn’t care less where I am so long as it’s with you.’

At least that gets a little smile out of Mr. Grumpy-Pants.

A costumed server stops at the pair of them and offers his tray of goodies up like sin. Nadya spares two quick glances over either shoulder — thankfully Adrian has donors to schmooze and Kamilah hasn’t arrived yet — before she plucks a cheese cube carved in the shape of the Liberty Bell.

But it isn’t enough that Jax has to act so unhappy the entire gala — now he’s stealing her snack and eating it himself?! Where’s my purse, where’s my stake?!

What else can she do but gape? He doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, just chews and chews and swallows while trying to ease the itch in his legs caused by the borrowed hose.

“Lily warned me you might make bad choices.”

So what? I’m a grown woman, I can make bad choices if I want to. “Are all of you in on some big conspiracy to keep me from cheese?”

“If it’ll spare you future pain, yeah.” Which — she wasn’t expecting that. Nadya can’t help but feel her face soften. One look down her way though and he rolls his eyes. “Stop it.”

“You hate my party. You steal my cheese. What’s next, burning my crops and delivering a plague onto my house?”

Jax looks appalled — which is a real shame. That would have gone over so well with Lily. “I—what?!”

Nadya just waves it off though. “Forget it. Just…” oh hey look, time for her own sigh, “forget it.”

“It’s not you. It’s these tights.”

“They’re hose.”

“They itch.”

“Imagine wearing them all the time.”

Nadya is totally enjoying her frilly not-period-accurate-in-the-slightest ensemble but of course Adrian is the only one who looks really right in his whole get up. It’s a good thing he has to wear modern suits and styles or else he’d be pegged for a vampire right away.

Her boss pulls her in for a one-armed hug, expertly outmaneuvering the skirt but he probably has experience with that, huh? And his smile only widens as he takes in Jax in all his colonial glory.

“They were good in the winter, obviously. Though I’ll admit once I didn’t feel the weather anymore the discomfort really presented itself as a problem.”

Jax just rolls his eyes. “Why do I feel like you throw this thing just to say shit like that?” Which— she can tell he’s trying to be sarcastic but Adrian definitely goes tense beside her.

“I ‘throw this thing,’ as you say, because my own personal wealth can only go so far, and most of it is immaterial. But every donation is material, and that maximizes the good I can do with it.”

Nadya nods eagerly. “There’s like six different scholarships in STEM research alone, I think a dozen in the business sector, and when we get to our goal tonight —” she knows they will, Raines Corp. history states they always do and Raines Corp. never had her to push them above and beyond, “— the company’ll have enough to match the city’s bid for the abandoned tunnel reconstruction project.”

If he ever read the minutes she sent him after every Council meeting he’d know this, but when Jax said he didn’t do paperwork he meant he really didn’t do paperwork.

But it’s enough to get his attention. “And what happens then?”

Adrian shrugs. “I postpone it. The most I can do without getting politicians involved is five years but I figure… that should be long enough to either relocate the former Clanless and break even, or fortify the Shadow Den enough that any efforts won’t cause structural damage. Unfortunately Vega’s interim replacement hasn’t officially made her views on such things known, but I think with time —”

It’s—as Lily would put it—freakin’ cinematic. How Adrian’s voice fades away to a buzzing in her ears and Jax’s reply sounds like a mouthful of cotton. The music dims and the lights aren’t as bright except where they fall on her when she strides through the open double doors.

Now let it be known that Nadya firmly believes Kamilah looks amazing in anything. Her power suits, a crimson dress from centuries gone, the plum kimono she uses as a nightgown… Honestly she’d probably somehow make a banana costume look sinfully sexy.

No. What? No. Moving on.

And even though Nadya knew the moment she laid eyes on the uniform it was the non-negotiable choice — her brain put some weird filter on itself to keep her from imagining just what that looked like. Probably to try and keep her sane.

Because the real thing… there are literally no words.

Adrian’s laugh comes both from behind her and a million miles away. “Would you look at that. Now that is a sight that brings back memories.”

“Wow, color me surprised.” Jax deadpans.

Adrian is a close personal friend of the New York Historical Reenactment Society (surprisingly not a bunch of vampires… if there was ever a group suspect but no, she’s checked) and most of them are in attendance tonight. They make Nadya look like her dress—a gift from Adrian, rental only—was bought at a cheap pop-up Halloween store.

And Kamilah makes them look like a middle school theatre cast. There’s just something about the fabric, the way it fits her and the way she carries not just the uniform but her own body inside of it that makes her look authentic. No one would believe her; not with the freshly-oiled leather and polished brass buttons, but Nadya’s chaotic-dumb brain really wants to scream “take a look at the real deal, ya posers!”

Kamilah’s hand rests on the glossy hilt of her saber as she approaches. Eyes passing right over Adrian — probably used to the sight — and sparing Jax absolute no dignity in the soft “ha” she gives.

“I didn’t know we could wear uniforms.”

Kamilah raises an eyebrow and tucks a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. “You… have one?”

“No,” sigh number seven, “but I would’ve tried to find one. Anything to get out of these tights.”

“They were useful during winter.”

Adrian laughs and gestures to her eagerly. “That’s what I said!”

Kamilah wasn’t ignoring her, not on purpose. That’s made obvious the second she finally does take in every skirt and frill, every pearl in her necklace and lets her eyes linger where Nadya’s chest heaves against her corset.

“Nadya, you look as beautiful as ever.” Then Kamilah takes her hand and kisses the back of it with a soldier’s courteous bow. Where’d I leave that dumb lace fan…?

She’s about 99.9% sure Kamilah holding her hand is the only thing keeping her standing right now.

Adrian snickers. Nadya couldn’t care less. “Careful there, General Sayeed††. Your lady seems about to swoon.”

Thankfully the woman takes heed and pulls Nadya close, possibly the most public affection they’ve ever had holy crap on a cracker, resting a hand on the curve of her hip. Yet she looks at Adrian with… what is that, mild annoyance?

“You know very well I was not named General until nearly a century later.”

Jax mouths his silent counting — blanches; “You were a General in the Civil War? You know what — of course you were.”

“A discussion for another day, perhaps.” Kamilah dismisses him just shy of pushing him out the door; lucky for Nadya both he and Adrian take the hint and fade into the cinematic background.

It’s just Nadya and Kamilah now.

“Hello.”

“H-Hi.”

Long fingers brush a strand of Nadya’s hair aside feather-light. “You do look… stunning, Nadya. You look stunning. Blue becomes you yet again.”

Blue? She’s wearing blue? Because her face is scarlet. “You — I mean — wow like…” words Nadya — words, “you really wore that and…” And fought in it?

Kamilah’s nod is curt. “In a sense. My skills were best suited to espionage, sabotage and the like.”

“Of course they were.”

“Though I’m gladdened to know the uniform still becomes me.”

As if it ever wouldn’t. “You look perfect in, like, everything.” But Kamilah’s not a fan of those kinds of blanket statements, so she tries again a little bit more from the heart. “You make a uniform look really good, that’s what I mean.”

The hand on her hip presses down then; important and as on purpose as everything else Kamilah does. Through the fabric right underneath her hand a familiar purpling not-at-all-bruise sings sweet on Nadya’s skin. Of course Kamilah knows where the love bite is. She was the one who gifted it.

“I may be the soldier…” Kamilah pulls her close; a hold of stone — she leans down to ghost a kiss at Nadya’s jaw (and knows it will drive her wilder than wild) and whisper in her ear.

“But you’ll be the one taking orders.”

Nadya’s last coherent thought?

She really needs to find more chances to get Kamilah in costume.

NOTE: While this fic technically exists in the Oblivion Bound universe it works standalone as well, I think. The only references are brief and to Maricruz Espinoza, a vampire original character and girlfriend of Lily, and a sort-of reference to the fact that Marcel survived in my fanfiction. Hopefully it still reads well!

[jawllines]

hey bub don't forget to post the met gala fic! xoxo ur reminder anon

tHANK YOU FOR REMINDING ME :D

“Holy shit.”

Y/N had seen Harry in a lot of things -- being his best friend meant experiencing his wardrobe, including but not limited to getting pictures of outfits laid out for something with question marks for her opinion, entering expensive boutiques with eyes averting from price tags in attempt not to panic, marveling as she walks through his closet to see pieces he’d purchased unbeknownst to her (plucking a few things from his drawers), and sending him links to things she think he ought to like just to see him in a photo online in it a week or so later. Despite how familiar she was with his taste in fashion and what he looks like in items of different colors, cuts, and fabrics, she is still often blown away with what he could conjure up. There was just something so. . .alluring, about the way in which he wore things with confidence without oozing any sort of cockiness that might turn someone off from him.

So when he’d invited her to come with him to New York for the Met Gala (in which she would not be attending, given she didn’t have thirty grand lying around to spend, but she got to sleep in a fancy hotel and eat like a King for a few days so she was happy), she’d been more than ecstatic. Was keen on seeing his outfits, hearing what he would do, what he’d have to say, and hope that he explain to her what even happens at the Met Gala apart from the red carpet. Even had fun with his impromptu ear piercing that she helped with (she’s got steadier hands than him). Her plan was simple -- to enjoy the luxuries of being rich without actually having to be rich, dawning one of the expensive hotel robes, slipping her feet into slippers and watch a livestream of the carpet while simultaneously pretending she would be willing to spend more than twenty dollars on a top as she scrolled through various clothing websites. Maybe take a bath or something and wait for him to come back, wondering what food they served at those kinds of events, if Harry would even like it, and if she should order room service (to which she would pay him back for even if it meant sliding money into his wallet when he wasn’t looking) and get him something in case he didn’t.

Though as the night continued on, picture after picture being released, videos and live streams from the event, everything seems so exciting and entertaining, she began to feel a small pit of. . .of something in her chest. She couldn’t quite tell what it was -- she was so proud of him and so happy to see him happy, that her cheeks could burst with a smile from it, but her heart weighs heavy. Harry makes good to rarely seem like he’s famous. Apart from the occasional fan picture or paparazzi hoard, he’s just normal Harry, who snores way too loud, has awful gas after eating jambalaya, picks off people’s plates without so much as a question to, and cannot sit still or keep quiet through a movie if he wasn’t interested in the subject matter. He was the Harry that shoved his head under her hand as his formal request for her to play with his hair and gave her drunken, emotional kisses because he’s “never felt so close t’a someone before”, and would rather sleep on her dingy old couch in her worn down flat than sleep in his multi-million dollar home if it meant that he didn’t have to be alone.

This Harry though -- famous Harry -- appeared to be completely in his element. Floating down the pink carpet with the man responsible for all things Gucci, dancing to Cher, mingling with celebrities, hosting the fucking event. It was like a whole different world he was apart of; one of glamour and opulence that she could only ever dream of. At that moment, for the first time, she’d felt as if she’d been holding Harry back somehow. She’s more than aware that she does not have that kind of power to do it on her own, but what about what he does for her? The nights that she wants him to come over, is he turning down plans with someone who might be more beneficial to his career? Or with someone who has much better, more interesting stories than what her professor tried to pull in her lecture? Maybe he was passing on drinks with stylists and people of greater importance because he’s far too loyal to pass on a romantic comedy movie night with her?

He deserved all good things; nothing but great, wonderful things and she feels endlessly guilty that she is unable to cater to that side of him.

That’s why when he returns a little earlier than he had expected, showing off the second garment he had changed into, his eyes wide and bright, “Get dressed, you’re comin’ with me to an after party!” He chirps after bursting through the door, walking towards the closet without a second thought and swinging the door open to reveal what she had presumed was a bag for one of his suits. Instead he pulls it from the closet, tosses it onto the mattress that she was sprawled on and points his finger at it, “Loads of people I wan’ you t’a meet, yeah?”

Her heart kicks up in her chest, not only because he is even more ethereal in person, nor was it just the fact that he had literally scared her phone out of her hand when he’d plowed in through the door, but because what in the hell? People he wants her to meet? At a met gala after party? Is she even allowed at those?

“Am  I even allowed at those?” She mirrors her confusion and he shrugs his shoulders.

“Don’t see why not; m’the co-chair, so I think I get a bit of leeway with a thing or two,” he pulls the zipper open to the bag, uncovering a beautiful glittery, chain detailed silver slip dress that she only distantly remembers stroking her fingers against on the mannequin, checked the price tag, and pretend it didn’t happen. Y/N couldn’t believe he’d remembered it let alone purchased the damn thing and now it was just sat on the mattress, waiting for her to put it on, “If anything everyone will suspect your just some smarmy socialite who doesn’t a hundred percent what Camp is and that’s’ okay. Hurry on then, I don’ want them to have too much fun without me.”

Her eyes were wide, “Holy shit,” sbe begins, placing her fingers to her temples, “Holy shit, Harry,” she shakes her head, “I can’t go! I’m not even -- I don’t even -- I took like a half assed shower at best!”

“And you look marvelous, Darling,” he took the liberty of withdrawing the dress from the bag, thrusting it out towards her with his fist around the sleek dark wood of the hanger, “I’ve been gushing about ya all night, and y’know I hate to be made a liar.” He motions towards the piece in his hand, brows furrowed as he becomes impatient, “S’been like two months since I bought this so if y’don’t like it anymore then --”

“Shut up, you know I love it,” she takes it from him, trying to ignore the way her heart swells when his mouth pulls up in a big, triumphant smile, “But it was at least one month’s rent, you’re asking me to go to a party with a ton of famous people and that’s something that I need to like prepare for mentally weeks beforehand.”

As soon as she’s got the dress in hand, he takes her by the shoulders and guides her towards the bathroom, “Yeah, yeah, Lovie, listen -- they’re all jus’ like me, yeah? Normal, dressed a bit fancy,” he squeezes her where his hands lay, “Loud as all get out, just like a good chat, will absolutely adore you if you get your arse ready in the next twenty or so minutes.”

He’d managed to close her in the bathroom, leaving Y/N to stare into the large floor to ceiling mirror illuminating every flaw she could’ve possibly thought to have all at once. She looks disheveled -- like someone who had only been planning on lounging around on a hotel bed and living simultaneously through Met Gala Twitter. Not somebody who was meant to get ready in twenty minutes. However, somehow Harry was incredibly persuasive without even having to be persuasive and she was sliding the robe from her shoulders, letting it pool to the floor.

She could get ready in twenty minutes -- she’s had worse time constraints in the past.

                                                                .                                    .                                       .

Y/N’s head is spinning.

Too much had happened in such a short amount of time; she’d met more people than she would have thought to be imaginable in a night than she’d ever met in her entire life. People of such fame and opulence she was certain that they would never cross paths, no matter the fact that she’s Harry’s right hand for most things. However, she realizes tonight as she’s mingling and meeting these people Harry has known for a long while and had never let the situation arise in which Y/N would meet them. Harry kept his personal life separate from his public life and if he could, she realizes, he kept her personal to him which simultaneously made her heart soften and ache all in the same.

She doesn’t think it would hurt too bad, until she had fluttered around the room with him and he had left her to her own devices for a moment so he could get them both something to drink. That’s when someone had turned to her (she wishes she could remember their name but after meeting so many people in a night, most of them escaped her) and said with a look of bewilderment on their face, “So you guys have been friends for how long? You seem so close, I wonder why he hasn’t really mentioned you before.”

It’s not like she expected him to be speaking on her twenty four seven, that definitely wasn’t the case! However, she talks about him a healthy amount to her other friends, and not even in a way where he’s Harry Styles -- again, just the boy who gets drooly when his face is smushed up against a shoulder -- they know that he’s around and is aware of his presence and their friendship. It makes her wonder if he’s ashamed of her or something. . .was being friends with a college student considered unclassy? Would it be better if she was some socialite who had infiltrated the world of celebrities and shared all their gossip at the first breath of their names? Because those are the friends of his that these people know about.

But he had brought her tonight, so that meant something didn’t it? It had to have, right? Was this a test to see how she would do in a situation where she was placed amongst people of such high regard? Or did he just feel guilty for inviting her then leaving? Or was he just riding off the high of the night and was making hasty decisions that he otherwise wouldn’t dream of?

There’s too many possibilities, it makes her head spin, more so than the apple flavored vodka she’d been sipping on. She needed to get out of her head -- she knows she does -- but it feels impossible when she so clearly doesn’t belong. And without Harry at her side, she felt even more misplaced than she had to begin with. The judging glances from people who couldn’t seem to decipher why she was there, why she was silent unless spoken to, and why it appeared like she wanted to jump from her skin. She had never been more uncomfortable in her life, and she decides then that maybe Harry keeping her away from this was best.

When she’d sought him out to tell him she was going to head home -- make up some excuse about a migraine or something -- she sees him speaking with Kendall, which only seems to further the wrench in her heart. All those teenage glimmers of hope that she could be his right hand are squashed because she’d only proven tonight that she couldn’t handle this side and this was such a large part of him. Not the only part, but big enough that she could understand if he didn’t want to bother trying to acclimate her to it. Why would he want to be with someone who he couldn’t bring to events without them starting to doubt themselves? And why the hell is she even thinking about being with him right now?

She retreats to the bathroom -- just for a little space, at the very least, to calm her down. Tears threaten to crawl up her eyes but she won’t let them. God! Why is she being so melodramatic? What’s her deal all of the sudden? She’s about three minutes from kicking her own ass -- surrounded by celebrities and idols she’s had for years, just to go to the restroom and sit still on the toilet long after she finished peeing? Just because she plummeted herself into her feelings about a boy? It’s like some twisted form of movie high school prom that she’d never, ever wanted to encounter.

Y/N isn’t sure how long she’d been sat there, until her phone dings a bright noise and startles her from whatever reverie she’d thrown herself into. She’s surprised to see Harry’s contact be what she sees, considering she didn’t even think he had pockets to keep his phone, so she swipes right on it quickly.

Where are you? Is everything okay?

And then the bastard had to be so damn sweet! Why should he care if she’s okay? He’d just hosted the damn Met Gala for Christ sake, she should be the last thing on his mind.

She feels her eyes well; here she was in the bathroom, feeling sorry for herself when it was Harry’s night. How could she run off to the hotel? She was here to support him and praise him because tonight is about him and she almost feels selfish for letting her emotions have her feeling like it was even remotely about her.

Deciding to no longer feel sorry for herself, she answers him back letting him know she was in the bathroom, stands up, finally wipes like she should have about ten minutes ago, and goes to wash her hands. She looks at herself in the mirror, very seriously tells herself to buck the hell up only to jump some when she realizes that Katy Perry is beside her in a burger costume. She nods politely, pulls a paper towel from the dispenser and pushes her way out to see Harry was standing and waiting for her, a dopey smile on his stupidly cute face.

“Are ya havin’ fun?”

Y/N musters her best smile and nods, “Loads,” she responds, “Are you?”

He nods enthusiastically, reaching out for her arm and giving her a small tug, “C’mon then, ‘ve been DJ-ing with Mark and I want you to have a go.”

                                                        .                               .                             .

By the end of the night it is very well apparent that celebrities party like college students. After the first afterparty he had taken her to, they went to a smaller one that he co-hosted, and it was a bit slower paced. Y/N felt more comfortable there at the very least -- maybe too comfortable, because several times she caught herself slowly fading to sleep, only brought back to full alertness when the coolness of her glass is pressed against her thigh. She’d done her fair share of mingling here too and met a handful of people that made her mouth dry, but by the time the sun started to rise in the sky, she was curled up on a couch and scrolling through her phone absently, waiting for Harry’s cue that they could go back to the hotel. He’d come to check on her a few times, asking if she wanted to meet someone (she would say yes), or if she just needed company but she urged him several times to go have fun (“You and I will be together for the next few days anyway, y’might as well enjoy your time without me hovering,” she had told him to which he replied with a pout of, “But I like when you hover.” that made her heart flutter more than it should have).

She was in the weird state of drunk-ish but slowly sobering; the last shot she had was an hour or so ago but she still felt buzzy and light. Still drunk enough to think that considering trekking downstairs and hitching a taxi by herself when she wasn’t all too sure of where their hotel was, might be a good idea -- but of sound enough mind to recognize that her feet ached too much to even think about trekking anywhere.

Around 7-ish, a gentle hand lies on her shoulder and nearly has her spring from her skin. Harry’s soft, low, sleepy chuckle is her first indication that it’s him before she turns around and sees his bow is a bit askew, his hair has been tousled and combed through to high heavens, and his eyes were puffy and red from his own weariness. “Jumpy,” he’d murmured, and she could tell he had sobered up considerably and was probably far soberer than she was, as he holds his hand out for her to take, helping her rise and leaning over to grab the heels she had kicked off and lied beside the couch, “Y’should’ve told me you were tired. Would’ve gotten you back to the hotel.”

“And what, miss out on some rich hot shot celebrity falling in love with my drunken sleeping form?” She stood, wincing and pouting, taking her heels from his fingers and sliding them back onto her foot, “Speaking of, m’pretty sure Taron Egerton is bringing me home actually, so I’ll send for my things.”

He furrows his brows at her and waves her along, “Yeah, yeah, and Alessandro is signing Gucci over to me -- c’mon now.”

“That’s actually not so unbelievable,” she replies.

The ride home, Y/N demands Harry work through his jaded brain to tell her about his entire night. She hypes him up even after the fact, reveling in his stories with him, all the new people he meant, how invigorating it was to be hosting the very first Met Gala that he attended, how freeing it was to have his nipples out at an event of this high stature, and how much fun he’d had even afterward. Though he still shies from her praise, blushing a pretty pink when she tells him he’s a legend and, “You’re literally doing such great things at such a young point in your solo career, m’surprised you aren’t floating from ego bloat,” makes him shake his head through a laugh.

She had thought she had made a brilliant recovery from her previous, mid-party panic, and was actually patting herself on the back for having it go unnoticed by him (because he notices absolutely everything; people could call Harry a lot of things, but one of them wasn’t dense). This is why she was so blindsided by how he approaches her when she’d plopped down on the hotel bed, kicking the heels off once again and flopping back against the mattress.

“So are you going to tell me what had you bent out of shape earlier?”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, heart sinking to her stomach, “Hm?” She plays dumb but he gives her that look -- that “don’t for a second think that you can trick me” look that almost makes her visibly shudder.

“You know what I mean,” he responds, “Y’think I don’t notice when you’re gone quiet? Or when you disappear for twenty minutes? Did someone say something to you?”

She opens her mouth to deny it but he shoots her that look again and she crumbles beneath it, shaking her head, “It was nothing,” she tells him, “I just got in my head, is all but it doesn’t matter and m’fine, so everything is good.”

“Don’t say you’re feelings don’t matter, because they do,” he responds almost immediately, peeling himself from his outfit and revealing the creamy smooth skin beneath -- Y/N has to tear her eyes from his torso so that she’s listening -- “Tell me what was wrong.”

“You’re awful demanding,” she grumbles, reaching up to take her earrings out, “It was just new and weird; I was surrounded by people I only ever see on a screen and then there were some people that just -- I just realized I didn’t really fit in, and I got in my head, but I got over it.”

His brows furrow, crawling up onto the bed, “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“Because it was your night idiot!” She all but snaps at him, not out of anger with him, but from pure frustration with herself, “I wasn’t going to hold you back because I felt weird. That wouldn’t be fair to you, n’I just -- I’m not apart of that world and it was very apparent and I just realized that I could be holding you back from something better when you’re hanging out with me or even that you have to take me places with you ‘cos you feel guilty. And if. . .and someone just -- I said we were best friends and they made a face and I -- it just feels weird. . .I felt weird.” Pushing the heels of her palms to her eyes, she shakes her head, “But it doesn’t matter, stop prying, me head hurts enough and I’m not letting this ruin how amazing tonight was.”

Harry’s fingers are gentle as they loop around her wrist, pulling it at it delicately so he could draw her hands from her face, “Okay,” he murmurs gently, “Okay, okay, I’ll stop, I just --” he pauses for a moment, like he’s trying to pluck the right words from his brain, “You’re so important t’me, y’know that? Right important and I wanted to bring you with me t’night, because I wanted to experience this amazing night with you.” His thumb carefully caresses her skin, and she can feel his eyes boring into her though she doesn’t look up at him, “Y’don’t have to be apart of that world, yeah? I like that you aren’t ‘cos -- well, as selfish as it is, I just want you all to myself. You’re my person. And don’t ever think you’re holding me back, Lovie, if I wanted to hang out with a ton of snobby rich celebrities all day then I would.” He leans in, pushing a kiss to her forehead, “I love you Dummy.”

Her heart pulls in her chest, “I love you more,” she murmurs.

They finish getting ready for bed (despite it being close to 9AM) and Y/N returns from the bathroom to see that Harry had planted himself on her mattress opposed to his own, snuggled up beneath her covers with only his eyes peeking out at her, “Get in,” his words are muffled by the blankets and Y/N rolls her eyes, climbing up into bed beside him. He wriggles his way over to her almost instantly, lying his head against her chest and sighing contentedly as his eyes flutter shut.

“You looked really hot t’night,” she murmurs idly as she combs her fingers through his hair and he hums, nestling closer to her, “Especially in the first outfit. You’re lucky I didn’t jump your bones.”

Harry laugh comes as a soft puff through his nose.

“You should’ve.” He responded.

Y/N stays up for an hour after thinking about it.

[tyrannysaurusfloof]

We Will All Have Restful Sleep

Summary: Deceit has to face a threat he has never seen before, and Virgil allows his anxiety to push him forward to save Roman. Pairing: Dark/Virgil (platonic or romantic), Dark/Virgil/Anti (platonic or romantic), Platonic LAMP Characters: Virgil, Dark, Anti, Patton, Logan, Roman, Deceit. Words: 2751 Warnings: None. A/N: The last part ^^ I had a lot of this typed up tonight but I forgot about doing it last night, so not as delayed as I thought it would be. I’m glad you all enjoyed this series as much as you did, and please look forward to my next series, which will focus on the Sides as children, and Thomas as Virgil’s father. Oooh mystery xD First Part is Help Me Sleep Second Part is Let Me Sleep Third Part is Comfort in Sleep Fourth Part is Questions Without Answers Fifth Part is Deceptions Sixth Part is The Dangers of a Good Nights Sleep

--

Deceit’s part of the mindscape looked difficult to navigate, but as with the snake-faced Side himself, looks could be deceiving. Virgil knew that, but Dark and Anti had never heard of Deceit before, and had never seen this part of the mindscape, and their reactions would have been funny had Virgil’s anxiety been so heightened.

“What the fuck is with all these mirrors?” Anti asked, staring into one of them and examining himself, “I look like Jack.”

“I…that is an extremely redundant statement.” Dark rolled his eyes, pulling his arm free from Virgil’s tight grip and straightening his suit, “You always look like Jack.”

“No I mean, my eyes are normal and my neck is too.” Anti clarified, “Look.”

Dark glanced in his direction as Virgil turned to them.

“This part of the mindscape changes a lot. Deceit doesn’t like people seeing his room, so he tries to keep them out with cheap tricks. This is another one. I know what I’m looking for, so just follow me.” He stated, before turning on his heel and beginning to walk down the hall of mirrors.

“I don’t understand why it is necessary for us to be here.” Dark murmured as he occasionally perused the mirrors, looking at how his reflection changed with distaste. Anti was amused by the different forms the mirrors made him take, and was pulling funny faces as they walked.

“Roman is only in this mess because of me. Because I couldn’t act normal for once and just answer some questions.” Virgil snapped, his voice echoing loudly through the tightly enclosed space. “And you two are part of the answers he’s looking for, so you’re going to deal with Deceit, while I deal with Roman.”

“Deal with him how?” Anti inquired, and without even looking Virgil could tell the ego was itching to materialise his knife.

“Not by killing him. And nothing that would be detrimental to Thomas.” He ordered, “Just by making him admit the truth to Roman, and clear his head of all the lies he’s told. Can you do that?”

“Your plan wouldn’t work very well if we couldn’t.” Dark murmured, “But I’m sure we can. I’m sorry it came to this, Virgil.”

“So am I.”

The anxious Side stopped suddenly in front of a large mirror. It didn’t look any different from the mirrors surrounding it, except for the reflections it gave: none of them appeared humanoid in the mirror. Dark was fuzzy red, blue and grey images of people, with hints of details that Virgil didn’t understand, but made the suited ego growl low in his throat and curl his hands into fists. Anti was a glitching mess, the only part of him static in the mirror were glowing green eyes, and the entire image looked painful and non-corporeal, and Anti glared at it, teeth bared, and hands itching to break the mirror. Virgil, well he was just a mist like shadow creature, a monster with glowing purple eyes and poisonous words. It was not a pretty sight, but this was the mirror they needed.

Without missing a beat, Virgil reached out and pushed the mirror, and it swung open like a door. The entire hall of mirrors shattered around them, and Deceit’s room materialised. It was dark in colour, with yellow accents in the walls and carpet and bedspread. Out of all the rooms Virgil had seen, Deceit’s was the most old-fashioned, following the same sort of fashion the Side himself seemed to enjoy, and almost everything in there was fake. A Rosetta Stone in the corner, a fake version to show knowledge, a collection of prizes from famous acting awards that Thomas had never won, and memories that weren’t real, but that could be placed in Thomas’ mind to deceive him. The entire room made Virgil feel unwell, but his eyes were drawn to the middle of the room.

Roman was sitting there on a chair, hands resting in his lap, and his eyes glazed. There was a hint of yellow in the haze of his eyes, and his lips were taped shut. When he saw Virgil there was no reaction, and Virgil’s stomach rolled.

He couldn’t let his anxiety rule him right now.

Not now.

Not here.

Not when Roman needed saving from Deceit.

The Side was nowhere to be seen, but Virgil sensed someone off immediately. It all felt like a trick, like this wasn’t really Roman, since Virgil couldn’t ever imagine the creative Side being so subdued. Anti and Dark didn’t seem as concerned, and the glitch walked boldly into the room towards Roman himself. Virgil took a second too long to realise exactly what was waiting for them in the room, and he cried out to Anti a second too late. A sword swung towards the ego, barely missing slicing his head clean off, but cutting deeply into his shoulder and sending Anti glitching away, hissing and clutching the wound, staring for the person that had attacked him, but found no one.

No one but a mannequin, with Roman’s sword stuck deeply in its hand.

It had been a trick!

“Anti!” Dark made to step into the room after Anti, but paused with narrowed eyes. “He’s a tricky one.” He murmured to Virgil, “How fun.”

��Sarcasm isn’t helping.” Virgil muttered back, stealing himself and entering the room himself. As soon as he did, a laugh echoed around it and the entire scene shifted. Instead of being in the middle of the room and sitting on a chair, Roman was hanging above a pit of spikes, held there only with a thin rope that was slowly fraying. His hands were tied, and Roman wasn’t fighting to free himself, merely accepting his fate.

Panic shot through Virgil, but Dark grabbed him before he could move.

“It’s not real.” The dark haired ego whispered, “He’s still in the chair.”

“His tricks don’t work on you?” Virgil gasped and Dark nodded slightly. “So…that is the real Roman? The one we saw when we first entered?”

“Yes.” Dark confirmed, “Roman is still in that chair, and still seemingly under Deceit’s control. The trap wouldn’t have been sprung had you come here alone, or with the other Sides, but we don’t know this Side well, so Anti fell for it.” He glanced at where the ego was on his knees, bleeding heavily from a wound and looking a bit too concerned to try moving again, in case anything else hurt him. “But you should be safe.”

Virgil breathed as much of a sigh of relief as he could. “Find him, please!” He pleaded, “Find Deceit and break this illusion, but don’t hurt Thomas!”

“I will.” Dark nodded, “Just walk forward as normal, you won’t fall into a pit.” He urged and pushed Virgil forward a little.

Trying to ignore the panic in his gut, Virgil allowed the flight and fight reflex to take over him again, and he pushed forward. Step by step, he soon found himself on the edge of the spike pit, and with a simple step, found himself directly over it, on solid ground. Confidence renewed that this was indeed a trick, Virgil rushed forward and grabbed for where he had seen Roman sitting. The scene of Roman hanging disappeared in an instant and Virgil’s stomach rolled a little at the sudden shift, but he was glad to see Roman just sitting there.

Deceit’s powers were swaying his mind still, but Virgil knew he could break through. He had to.

“Is this Deceit?” Dark’s voice echoed around the room and Virgil turned to find his two friends standing behind him, Deceit between them, Anti holding a knife at his throat, growling at him as he gripped the bloody wound still dripping through his fingers, and Dark gripping the back of his neck tightly. Deceit did not look impressed for a second only, before he smirked and looked over Virgil.

“What a surprise to see you, Virgil.” He stated smoothly, “And with friends.”

“Shut up.” Virgil spat, “What have you done to Roman?!”

“I merely helped him see the truth.” Deceit shrugged, “All of it.”

“You don’t tell the truth.” Virgil countered, “You never have and you never will, you can’t. Not as you are now.” The anxious’ Sides eyes flicked to Dark, who smirked and his aura grew, the ringing almost overpowering in the room, “But my friends could make you.”

“I’d be pleased to.” Dark smiled, pulling Deceit away from Anti’s knife and facing him. Placing his index fingers on either side of Deceit’s temple, Dark pushed his aura into the Side without warning and before Deceit could say anything. It hurt, and the Side exclaimed in pain, eyes squeezed shut as Dark invaded his mind.

“Don’t hurt Thomas.” Anti reminded him, watching with a disappointed expression. He had wanted to make Deceit talk, but Dark had a little more control over his powers, especially with Anti wounded as he was.

“I know.” Dark grumbled.

Virgil left them to it for the moment, turning back to Roman and shaking the creative Side to get his attention. Roman’s eyes moved to him, but he didn’t seem to even see him.

“Whatever Deceit has said to you Roman, it’s not true.” Virgil began, “Please believe me. I’m sorry I never gave you the answers you were looking for!”

The creative Side shifted slightly and he reached forward, placing a hand heavily on Virgil’s shoulder. The tape over his mouth moved slightly, so Virgil reached up and gently pulled it free from Roman’s lips. He only winced once, and licked at his lips before speaking. “He’s right.” He whispered, “You have never liked me.”

“That…that’s not true, Roman.” Virgil countered, “I…I didn’t like any of you at the beginning, I won’t refute that. But things have changed. I have, and you have. Please I…don’t let this stupid thing come between everything we’ve built.”

Roman blinked, and the haze of yellow around his irises flickered in and out of existence for a moment and Virgil let his heart leap in hope. He could break through Deceit’s words, he knew he could. This was all pointless, a stupid mistake on his part that had allowed the deceptive Side in, and Virgil had to fix this.

“All I…all I wanted was to…was to know what was outside the mindscape. The…all the creative possibilities. And you held the answers but you wouldn’t share.” Roman whispered, “It all sounds so stupid now.”

“It is stupid!” Virgil nodded, “But you’re not stupid Ro, it’s me. I’m sorry. I’ll give you all the answers, just listen to me!”

“Virgil.”

Dark’s voice broke through the layers echoing around the room as Virgil’s panic reached a crescendo. Turning with a jump, Virgil sucked in a breath and gripped Roman’s hand as it lay on his shoulder hard.

Deceit was still standing between Dark and Anti, but his eyes were no longer screwed shut. The snake eyes was glowing red, and his other was tinged blue, and it was clear he was no longer in complete control of himself. Forcing Deceit to tell the truth was taking it’s toll on Dark, that was clear, for the suited ego’s shell was barely held together, so Virgil spoke quickly.

“Tell Roman the truth! All of it!” He cried.

“……Virgil doesn’t hate you.” Deceit’s voice was wavering, but it was clear enough for Roman to hear. As he spoke, the haze of Deceit’s powers over Roman disappeared and the creative Side surged to his feet, knocking Virgil over in his haste. Apologetically, he pulled Virgil to his feet and faced Deceit. “He didn’t tell the other Sides the answers. No one knows the answers. I lied to you, to get into your head and use you.”

“I should have known!” Roman spat, “I should have known not to listen to you!”

“It’s okay Roman.” Virgil murmured. His head was starting to hurt, pounding as his heart fluttered through the anxiety. “That’s what he does. This is…my fault.”

Dark drew his fingers back from Deceit’s forehead, and the Side collapsed to the floor. “I’m sorry,” Dark rasped, “I couldn’t do it any further without hurting Thomas. Like this, he’ll have a bad headache at worse, at best a small but annoying throb.”

“Thank you.” Virgil whispered, “Thank you.”

“I should…I should thank you too Virgil.” Roman muttered, “For coming to save me.”

“It’s my fault you got like this, of course I came.” Virgil shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Can we get out of here now?”

Nodding, Roman took Virgil’s hand, Dark grabbed Anti and the two egos took a small grip on Virgil so they could all rise out of Deceit’s part of the mindscape together. Patton and Logan were waiting for them, Logan attempting to do puzzles while Patton paced back and forth. As soon as they all appeared, Patton launched himself at Roman and Virgil.

“You’re okay!” He cried, dragging them both into a tight, crushing hug. “I was so worried about you Roman!”

“I’m okay padre.” Roman laughed weakly, “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Virgil didn’t say anything, his vision getting rather blurry. Being anxious and stuck in fight or flight mode for so long was exhausting, and it was all suddenly catching up to him. As Patton noticed Anti was bleeding and drew back to exclaim at it, Virgil stumbled and went to his knees.”

“Virg!”

“I’m okay.” Virgil whispered, “Just tired.” He leant his head against Roman’s shoulder as the creative Side knelt down next to him, “Just lemme stay here for a while.” Within seconds, Virgil was asleep against Virgil’s shoulder, and Roman smiled down at him.

“I believe you will have to settle for a small explanation, before I take Anti to get this looked at.” Dark murmured, cracking his neck as he pulled off his tie and fastened it around Anti’s arm as a makeshift tourniquet. “For who we are, my name is Darkiplier and this is Antisepticeye. We are the ‘egos’ of Markiplier and Jacksepticeye, you probably know them. Unlike you, we are not ‘Sides’ of their personalities, but fully fledged people. I am…for lack of a better word, Mark’s ‘dark’ side. And Anti is like Jack’s opposite.”

“We met Virgil in the void.” Anti supplied through gritted teeth, “He ended up there accidently after a panic attack, and we calmed him down. As for what’s outside the mindscape…you’ve seen it, through Thomas’ eyes. Virgil can only travel to see us because Dark has attached part of his void to Virgil’s room. He can’t go elsewhere.”

“But you are welcome to come through the void and visit my home.” Dark offered calmly, “Although I’d be careful, if I were you.”

Roman nodded, standing and pulling Virgil up with him into a bridal style carry, letting the anxious Side’s head loll against his shoulder. “Thank you. I’m sorry you had to get involved in this.”

Dark shrugged, “This is nothing compared to what I have to deal with on a daily basis.” He commented drily, “Trust me.”

“Or don’t.” Anti grinned, “He’s not trustworthy at all. Can we go now? This hurts.”

“We can go,” Dark agreed, “Tell Virgil if he wants to come and sleep with us tonight, he can. But, if you want to help him in the same way we do, and you don’t mind sharing a bed, spend the night with him. It might help all of you.”

With that said, Dark and Anti disappeared with a slightly crackle of static, leaving nothing but bloodstains and the four Sides.

“Shall we put him to bed?” Patton asked.

“No.” Roman shook his head, “Let’s keep him with us. This all started because Virgil wanted a good night’s sleep and it got way out of hand. If he sleeps better when someone is there, then I don’t mind him lying on me.”

Patton smiled and hugged Roman carefully. Logan came forward as well and allowed Patton to pull him into a small group hug.

“I’m glad you’re both back okay.” The logical Side said, “Will you tell us what happened?”

“I will.” Roman grinned, “It was an epic battle! But first, let’s make some food, I’m starving.”

With Virgil carefully balanced in Roman’s arms, the three Sides traipsed downstairs where Patton proceeded to make them all something to eat, while Roman held Virgil on his knee and began to regale them with a tale of a battle fit for a Prince.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Dust-Off, a Dean/Cas fic post 14x10 (”Nihilism”)

Spiritual Sister to fic "Spelunkers" (ao3)

Michael is gone from Dean for good. After he, Sam, and Cas rid his body of the evil archangel's grace, Dean wants to scrub every trace of the being from him. But even his usual clothes bring him no comfort, as in a way Michael still wore them - used them to convince everyone that Dean was all right. So what can he wear? Maybe the little present he bought for himself a while back that he never had time to try. And what happens when a certain angel catches him in it?

Note: Yeah, the episode didn’t come out yet - I know. You gonna stop me? Also rated M for fun times ahead.

           Dean stares at the box in his lap, the black cover slightly dusty from disuse. He brushes his fingers across, trailing them ever so slowly along the cursive words at the center: ‘Natasha’s’. The box was light at first, but the longer he lets it sit, the heavier it gets. Weighing down with another force to crush his legs. ‘I shoulda left it down there,’ he thinks, ‘I mean… what the hell was I even thinking – buying it in the first place?’

           It was an impulsive purchase. Something he never should have bought but had to have. ‘Like the damned vibrator… I blame that. Only reason I was there in the first place…’

           Natasha’s was a little store, hidden in the back corners of Kansas City. He had passed it one day with Sam when they were rushing off to another spelunking tour. They were running late – Sam lost in his sleep and Dean too preoccupied with bacon – but it still left a heavy impression on the elder brother. The soft curves of the lettering just like on the box, the almost antique looking storefront, and especially the beautifully decorated mannequins. He committed every little detail to memory before they turned the corner, filing it away for – what, he didn’t know.

           Until later on in the day, when he found himself back there.

           “You sure you don’t want any dinner?” Sam asked, halfway out the door of their motel room.

           Dean didn’t look up. He was studying Google Maps, weighing the options of travelling by car or by foot. “Nah, I think I might take a quick walk, grab something from the vending machines.”

           “If you say so…”

           He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there before someone cleared their throat. A mature woman, with creases all along her face, peered up at him from behind her wide glasses. There was measuring tape draped across her neck, and a bobby pin or two messily shoved into her grey hair. “You know,” she said, “I was supposed to have closed five minutes ago.” She had a very noticeable accent, Eastern European if Dean was guessing.

           “Sorry, I – uh…”

           “You want to come in.”

           She spun on her heel, back into the store. Dean followed, eyes bouncing around the moment he passed under the lilting chime. There wasn’t much room to move, an explosion of colorful fabrics either hung from metal rods or laid piled on wooden displays. There was a huge desk off to the right where a sewing machine sat on one of the ends. In the back, Dean counted five different dressing rooms, each hidden by black curtains.

           “So,” the woman – ‘Natasha, if the store is anything to go by’ – continued, “what brings a man like you here?”

           “Is it… not obvious?”

           She paused, taking another long look at him. “Nothing is ever what it seems. It wouldn’t be right to assume anything. So… why am I keeping my store open?”

           He didn’t have an answer. ‘I mean, I do,’ he thought, ‘But should I…’ Thinking fast, he said the first lie that popped into his mind. “I’m here for a friend!”

           “…You are?”

           “Yes,” he nodded, one hand absently reaching out towards some of her merchandise. He ran his finger across the satin. “They – um… needed a few things, but were kinda busy… and we aren’t here for long so I – I uh… offered to go and –“ he cleared his throat, “to go and get it…”

           Natasha stayed silent for a long time. With each passing second, Dean felt himself shrink further and further into himself. By the time she spoke, he was the littlest doll in the nesting set.

           “So,” she said, “your friend. Do they have a size?”

           “Well – uh… about that?”

           “Do you … not know?”

           He flushed red. “…No.”

           “Would you say your friend’s measurements are like your own?”

           She smirked at him, then. It wasn’t cruel or judgmental. Instead, her face had softened, and Natasha offered him a way in. She opened shell after shell to find Dean, and give him a hand. He relaxed, smiling back at her. “Yeah, I’d say we’re the same there.”

           “Very well,” she said, pulling at the tape, “let’s get you all sorted out. I’m pretty sure we’ll have something for your friend here.”

           In the time he was remembering that story, he had removed the box’s lid. Peeling back the wax paper, Dean gawks at his earlier purchase. He lifts the sheer, pink lace by the satin straps, turning it over and over to fully take in the intricate pattern. Dean smiles, just like he did when Natasha showed it to him. “Pink is a good color,” she said, “A strong color. Not many people can pull it off. I’m sure your friend will.”

           He places it next to him on the bed, digging back in for the next piece. As sheer as the bodice he picked out, but even more luxurious with the insane amount of ostrich feathers adhered to the cuffs and the train.

           “Makes you feel beautiful,” Natasha whispered to him, slipping it over his shoulders, “Do you agree?”

           Dean could barely take his eyes away from himself. “…Yeah.”

           He drapes the robe alongside the lingerie. Thinking he had finished, Dean moves the box away. It rattles, drawing his attention back. Dean digs deeper, uncovering a satin bag as dark as the lining of the box.

           Opening it, he finds two pink heels, with more ostrich feather, and little straps for his ankles. Dean blanches, remembering how Natasha brandished them for him as she was wrapping up his purchases.

           “Are you sure,” she asked, “An outfit like this only works with a complete set. I’d hate for there to be any disappointment.”

           Dean waved her off, laughing awkwardly. “No, no – I… my friend will be so happy with all of this. But, the shoes… it might be too much, all at once. You know?”

           “Has your friend never worn such things before?”

           “Nothing… nothing as good as this,” he confessed. “Maybe the odd piece here or there but… never the full picture. Maybe it would be too real and… y’know, then he’d have to deal with other things once he… once it’s…”

           Natasha laid her hand across his, bringing focus on her. Her eyes were burning as she spoke. “The worst monsters are always the ones that exist here.” She pointed to her head. “But it’s only when we bring them out into the light of day, that we can beat them. Their power comes from dwelling in darkness. Never wait for them to strike, when you can have the first attack.”

           ‘Crazy lady,’ he thinks, ‘Probably knew more than she realized.’ He sets the shoes down, pulling at his tie. ‘We waited to long… didn’t think – no, no. Remember, it wasn’t my fault… it wasn’t any of our faults…’

           Michael’s outfit was too constricting. He’s been free of the archangel’s influence for a short while now, and he still hasn’t changed. Dean couldn’t. There wasn’t anything he wanted to wear that wouldn’t remind him of his controller. Even his plaid shirts left bile burning in the back of his throat, the thought that Michael decorated himself in it to draw suspicion away circling around like a shark.

           Dean needed something new. An outfit fully untouched by Michael. Where he could see his face and know it was himself staring back. Clothes that was completely unexpected for him to wear, but still his choice – that he wanted to wear.

           He bunches the robe in his fists, grounding himself in its touch. ‘It can’t be this hard, Dean. We’ll take it slow… but first…’

           Dean tears the tie off and flings it to some corner of the room. The hat follows, as well as the vest. He kicks his shoes off and hurls them at his wall. They fall over each other as he rips his socks off and repeats the process. A button or two fly off from his effort to completely shred the white shirt. And his trousers don’t fall fast enough. ‘At least Michael made this somewhat easier,’ he thinks, ‘Going commando. All right… now that that’s done…’

           The bodice fit just as Natasha said it would. The lace hugged his body in all the right places, and felt as good on his skin as the satin did. Dean ran his fingers up and down his chest for quite some time, lost in the sensation.

           When he finally came back up for air, he moved onto the next step. Dean sits, grabbing one of the shoes and fiddling with it. Unlike the bodice, Dean has never worn anything like these. The strap was hard to work with, his fingers too big and meaty to coordinate. In time, he managed to slip the first shoe on. And then the other went, much smoother than the first.

           He stared down at his feet, toes poking out from behind the feather. They looked worse for wear, and didn’t fit with the illusion the heels evoked. ‘Maybe with a little polish… no – get a hold of yourself, Winchester.’ He turns his thoughts away towards the rest of the shoe. Even though he didn’t give Natasha his size, she guessed correctly. It fit perfectly, and the strap barely dug into his skin.

           Although walking in them was an even worse battle. ‘Shit… women do this almost every day?’ He stumbles, leaning on his desk to right himself. ‘At least whatever Natasha picked out… the heel isn’t breaking.’ Dean wobbles back over to his bed, grabbing the last piece of his ensemble: the robe.

           Like the first time he tried it on, it completely encases him. The fabric melds around his arms, fitting perfectly even as he stretches and flexes. Feathers are everywhere as he plays with the sleeves, shaking them to and fro. Dean does the same with the train, shifting back and forth in place, smiling a bit wider with each swing. Having done enough, Dean ties the satin string across his waist in a loose bow, smoothing the robe out.

           ‘Done,’ he thinks, ‘Now all I need is a…’ Dean looks around, searching for any reflective surface. None exist in his room, so he moves out of it. Into the ensuite bathroom, Dean finds his regular portrait-like mirror.

           He wasn’t the loveliest thing at the moment. His skin pale, the freckles popping out like pebbles scattered across a snowy field. And his green eyes were tinged with red, still puffy from earlier. Dean’s hair was gelled and flat, another reminder of Michael. Frowning, Dean rakes his fingers back-and-forth, mussing it up every which way. When he’s done, the hairs sit out of place. It stands up at ends in areas, and his bangs fall across his forehead in a soft wave.

           Moving on, Dean casts his gaze further down to the real purpose of his reflection. He has to take a step back to fully appreciate the outfit. His hands slowly trail down his body once more, pleasure sparking within. “I sure do look…” ‘Handsome? No, that wouldn’t work… Natasha said beautiful but – no, no the word I’m looking for is…’ “Pretty.” Dean smiles. “Yeah… pretty.”

           He’s too distracted by his own image to hear the door opening. “Dean? You’ve been in here a long time… I know you might need your space, but…” Cas trails off, footsteps placing him in the center of Dean’s room.

           He whirls around, facing Cas, giving him a better view of what he’s wearing. “Shit,” he says, trying to cover himself, “You – why didn’t you – wasn’t it locked?”

           “You, uh… didn’t lock it.”

           “Shit.” He sways into the room, slamming the door shut and locks it. His back is too it, once more facing Cas. His angel barely looked away, following Dean the entire time with his eyes. In the dim lighting of his room, they almost seem to glow. But then Dean blinks, and they’re the same blue as they always were. “You, uh… I can’t make you forget you ever saw any of this… will you?”

           “Not likely, no,” he says, “I wouldn’t want to, anyway.”

           “You wouldn’t?” A shadow falls over his face, and the already leaky dam bursts. A flood of bad thoughts washes through him, and he curls in on himself. “Yeah, I guess this does look pretty odd… just, if you’re going to laugh could you not do it here –“

           “What?”

           “It’s okay, I was dumb to ever think –“

           “No no no no, Dean,” Cas rushes to him, hand cupping his face, pulling his face back up. “Dean, look at me. I would never laugh at you. What I – what I meant was that this – you, dressed as you are – is…”

           Dean watches Cas’s face flicker with an internal argument. His touch sears his already heated skin, but he can’t push it away. He wants to hear what Cas says next, whatever it may be a deciding factor in how he acts for the rest of the night.

           Cas licks his lips, scanning Dean once more. “You are… divine.”

           Dean shrugs. “I used pretty.”

           “Pretty works, too.”

           “Yeah, but yours makes me all… tingly.”

           Cas chuckles. “So,” he says, “is there any reason you’re wearing… this?”

           Dean sneaks a quick peek of his own outfit again. “Do I have to have one?”

           “Not particularly, no… you’re allowed to do things you enjoy. You… are enjoying this, are you?”

           “I was… still am, a little differently though.” He shifts his hips, pressing a hand against his growing erection.

           “Then you don’t need a reason. Although… I have to believe there is some inciting incident to this given… earlier events. Isn’t there?” Dean bites his lip, glancing away. Cas doesn’t shy away as easily. “Dean?” he asks again, voice an octave lower than before. It sends a cascade of chills up his body.

           “I… wanted to do something,” he explains, “out of the ordinary… shake things up a bit. Prove to myself that I’m back in control. I don’t think Mi… he would ever put this on.”

           “I’d have to agree.”

           “It helps that I’ve been meaning to wear this for awhile. Except with everything going on…”

           “Things can get put off.” Cas nods, “I understand.” He tilts his head, squinting. “Is there… anything else you might want to do? That only you would?”

           “Well…” Dean smirks, trailing one hand up Cas’s chest while the other still presses up against his thick cock. “There is one thing…”

           “I’d be… happy to help, if you need assistance.”

           “Oh Cas,” Dean laughs, “I’d hate to do it alone. And…”

           “And what?”

           “You’re the only one I’d want to do it with, anyway.” Dean spurs into action. He pushes, guiding Cas back up to his bed. His angel stops, his legs hitting against the frame. Dean tells him to sit with a gentle nudge on his shoulder.

           When Cas settles himself down, Dean steels his nerves. He crawls onto Cas’s lap, arms wrapping around his angel’s neck. The ostrich feathers catch on Cas’s stubble, and he blows one away from his mouth. Dean fights back a grin. “This okay?” he asks.

           “It’s good,” he murmurs, hands settling on Dean’s waist, “…could be better…”

           “Really? How?”

           “We could stop talking…” Cas leans up, then, catching Dean’s lips in a kiss. He doesn’t fight. Dean kisses back with as much fervor. They’re like twin volcanoes, erupting at the same time. A field in a storm where lightning strikes the surface at every second. They’re the sea and the moon, pulling and pushing each other in an eternal dance. It’s everything Dean imagined and still nothing he was prepared for. The more they kiss; the overall sensation of goodness fills his brain. Casting away any lingering traces of Michael. ‘Bastard could never get this right…’ he thinks, ‘How many times did he try and sell me on those fake Cas’s… I knew the real deal would be worth the wait.’

           Dean grinds down on Cas’s crotch, delighted to meet a similar hardness. “Someone’s excited,” he whispers into another kiss, scraping against Cas’s scalp.

           “Who wouldn’t be,” Cas says, marking up Dean’s neck in their next breath, “Seeing you in that. I nearly lost it the moment I laid eyes on you.”

           “I’m already yours, Cas,” Dean tells him, groaning as Cas bites into his collarbone, “You don’t have to sweet talk me anymore.”

           “I mean it, Dean, truly.”

           “All right, all right…”

           Cas pauses, pulling away to look at Dean. “Do you not believe me?” He looks somewhat hurt, but behind that, Dean can see another emotion. Hidden within the black whorls of his pupils, he thinks Cas might… enjoy it. That maybe his sarcasm and big mouth thrills him in other ways. This thought makes his outfit even more uncomfortable.

           “Dean,” Cas continues, “I will never tire showering you in compliments. You deserve each and everyone of them.” He tightens his grip on Dean’s waist as he drops his back to the bed. Then, in one swift motion, he flips them.

           “Cas!” Dean yelps, “If you rip this –“

           “I’m being careful,” he says, hovering above, “I’ll always be careful with you… unless you tell me otherwise.”

           “Cas…”

           “Dean,” his angel says, the word dipped in solid gold love, striking every nerve to make Dean’s heart sing. “Dean,” he repeats, “Tell me you want this. Let me know how I can please you.”

           He nearly bursts into tears right there. But he switches course, and instead a giggle bursts out. Dean laughs, knocking his head into Cas’s shoulder. “I’ve always wanted this, Cas,” Dean tells him, “Wanted you. I didn’t realize, at first, just how but… some days it’s all I can think about.”

           “You happen to be in my thoughts often, as well.”

           “…I can’t believe we’ve waited so long –“

           “No,” Cas shushes him, “Let’s not do that. We’re here, now. That’s what matters. That and… what you want me to do with you?”

           ‘With? Man, he knows what to say to push my buttons…’ “Cas, be honest… do you like my mouth?”

           “I do,” Cas says, “It’s perfectly shaped, and have great experience. Your tongue…”

           “No, I mean, do you like when I… say things?”

           “What kind of things?”

           “Um… I don’t know? Sarcastic things, naughty things – words only a little shit would say?” There’s barely a slip of blue left in Cas’s eye. “You do, don’t you?”

           “Do I even need to say anything else?”

           “No,” Dean shrugs, “Although… if you really wanna hear me say some filthy things… you could always use your mouth.” His little nod south doesn’t go unnoticed. Cas grins, pressing kisses up against his lace-covered abdomen, taking his time getting to Dean’s crotch. His hands slide over to some clasps, the only thing keeping Dean’s leaking cock from breaking out of the sheer, see-through fabric. Cas snaps them open, pulling the panties down and away. He’s about to fully take Dean into his mouth, until Dean tugs on his hair to stop him. He glances up at him, Dean smirking all the while. “Who said I wanted your mouth there?”

           Cas fully loses it as he flips Dean over, growling at the sight of Dean’s ass. “I am going to have so much fun with you…”

           “Couldn’t have said it better myself, Ca – aah, aah, ass! Oh, yeah baby – yeah! Right there!”

           Sam, adrift in the Internet, barely notices Cas re-enter the room. When he does, he stands, mouth opening and closing with every passing beat. There are so many questions he wants to ask: “Is Dean okay?” “Why was he in there for so long?” “Why were you?” “What happened to your tie?” Instead, he asks, “Dean?”

           “He’s okay,” Cas tells him, sitting across from where Sam was, “The process… tired him out more than he thought. Said he can barely move from bed, and even if he could he wouldn’t want to.”

           “Well that… does sound like Dean.” Sam collapses back onto his seat. “I was scared, there, after Michael that he might relapse back into somewhere… darker.”

           “Your brother is strong, Sam,” Cas tells him, “Stronger with the two of us here supporting him, and with Michael cast out far and away.”

           “That’s the truth,” Sam sighs, “I wish the slippery bastard didn’t disappear like that. Would’ve loved to have trapped him and drop kicked him back to his world.”

           “A little tame for my tastes but okay.” Cas points to his open laptop. “Is that what you were doing? Looking for Michael?”

           Sam blushes, barely meeting Cas’s gaze. “Uh… I should have, right? But, that’s not what I –“

           “What were you doing?”

           “It’s… it’s a little silly, but…” He turns it around, showing Cas his open tabs and search bar. “I thought Dean might want to do something to get his mind off of all that happened, a quick day-off, nothing too extreme. And he really seemed to like this spelunking trip we did –“

           “Spelunking? What’s that?”

           “Oh! It’s this activity where people go and explore caves. I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it?”

           Cas smirks. “My apologies, but I know of it in a… slightly different tongue.”

           “So you’ve explored caves before?”

           “Only recently. I never had the desire or chance in the first few millennia of my existence.”

           “You should totally come with us then, next time!” Sam smiles, looking back to his screen. “Or maybe we can do something else? Laser tag sounded fun… and so did these escape rooms… do you have any thoughts?”

           Cas taps at his chin, expression stuck as it was. “Well… let’s just say whatever you plan for us…”

           “Yeah?”

           “Make sure it’s low-endurance. I’m afraid Dean doesn’t have a lot of stamina for… multiple rounds.”

[tevotbegotnaught]

Dubov's Last Jump-off

**********************************************************************

I pressed the phone against my cheek.

“I can do those dates. The downtown one? Near Wall Street?"

"No" he said, "it’s in Soho. I’ll give you the address later." For an agent, Mo Bedbug was pretty relaxed.

"They’re having a rehearsal at seven. Could you do that?"

"Tonite at seven?"

"Yes. Tonite. Can you make that?"

I walked Fulton street to Chinatown while he slalomed through the details so far: money, dates, times and now, rehearsal.

"Seven tonite is good."

"Great. That’s great. Uh, listen, one of the girls…. there’s two girls… singers. I told you that. Uh, one of the singers I told you about..."

Relaxed and a bit spacey, too.

“Right?"

"She’s Harry Dubov’s girlfriend"

Dubov, a powerful, wealthy man, accused by dozens of women of violent sexual assaults, rapes and subsequent intimidation, was free on bond, pending trial.

"You gonna have problem with that?"

I didn’t hesitate.

"Who’s paying me, him or you?"

"Well, he’s paying me and I’ll pay the musicians. I worked with him before. He’s a real asshole, but he pays. You’ll definitely get your money.”

Now, Mo Bedbug really sounded like an agent.

On my right, the Manhattan Bridge tilted into view.

"I’m good for the gig. I can make the rehearsal. Is there a book or something? Specific instruments?"

"No book. Bring saxophone, of course. If you play flute, you do play flute? I thought so. I think flute would sound good on some of the songs."

Definitely an agent…

**********************************************************************

The rehearsal space was just off Times Square. Not quite an undisclosed location. Three flights of steps, steep and narrow, led to reception. There were often so many familiar faces, you automatically asked folks who they were rehearsing with. I used Mo’s name and quickly found my colleagues. We laughed about the absurdity of the gig and agreed Dubov wasn’t going to come to a crowded midtown rehearsal space. Just before 7, Mo came in, paid the rent and bought bottled water for us. He waited at the desk while we went to the room.

While we were setting up, two women pushed past the racked music stands to introduce themselves, enthusiastically shaking our hands. Margherita was short and lean. I figured she was mid-twenties, Karolina, maybe mid-thirties, more solid.

"Did you get the set list?"

"No"

"Mo said he was sending it to everyone."

"He mentioned..."

"We’ve been rehearsing a set."

"You have arrangements?"

They handed out sheaves of paper copied from fakebooks.

"No. You guys can just follow us. You know all the songs, right?"

"We didn’t get that list, so.."

The door opened. Harry Dubov leaned into the room, poking a shiny black cane in front. The women rushed to him. They took positions at his sides and he shuffled past, walking as if led invisibly by the nose, offering a hand to us in turn.

"Harry, nice to meet you."

"Harry"

"I’m Harry."

Singers spotting him, he used the cane to carefully leverage his backside into a chair. Behind Dubov, a woman in a black unitard carried his folded-up walker and a couple of water bottles. She was older than the singers and very muscular. Taking a seat to his right, posture immaculate, she scanned the room with a mannequin face. I definitely hadn’t expected Dubov. The tableau was pure Fellini. We waited for him to speak. He searched his jacket and retrieved a phone, holding it at eye level to stroke the screen. Not looking up, he asked,

"Where’s Mo?"

Both singers answered.

"He’s coming" "He’s downstairs"

Dubov snorted, "Tell him to hurry up"

Before they moved, Mo arrived and handed around the set list. It started with "Uptown Funk" , then "Billy Jean", "Natural Woman" "Too Darn Hot" and "Bad". Further down on the paper: “ Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy", “That's Amore", “Mambo Italiano". We were functionally a wedding band. Dubov, who regularly worked with the most accomplished people in entertainment and collected piles of money and honors was apparently booking Leonard’s of Great Neck.

Karolina was an actual singer with repertoire and poise. Margherita didn’t sing anything on her own, but sometimes added unisons with Karolina. While we wrote out the complex cuts in their arrangements, Unitard lady conferred with Dubov. Mo swiveled toward us and motioned me in. "Margherita is dancing on ‘Too Darn Hot’."

Unitard lady was a dancer. Immediately, she took command in her French accent.

"Zere’s spee-see-fic parts for zee horns. Eets by Eh-la Feetz-gerald . (She emphasized the first syllable of both names)."

"You know zees?"

Margherita played the arrangement on her phone: great call and response saxophone lines and sassy brass shouts played by an ace studio band.

"Where should we start?" Karolina asked.

"Horns gotta learn those parts first." I said.

Mo chortled "I’m not worried about that. Lets not waste everyone’s time now. You’ll have it next time"

Dubov looked up from his phone.

"Zey need time to lairn it." Mlle told him.

"Ok. Then let’s move on. What’s next?"

We went through "Bad". I played the parts I could remember, paying attention to the trumpet, but there were plenty of gaps. Dubov complimented the drummer (he was super crisp throughout). He addressed the horns, italicizing each word:

"You guys, it’s the craziest thing. Here I am listening to Michael Jackson and..." his voice suddenly loud and high "..all of a sudden JAZZ BREAKS OUT! Where the HELL did that come from?"

My trumpet colleague, exceptionally knowledgeable, argued that we played only original parts.

"I’ve listened to that song probably a million times. Never heard any of that. But what do I know?’

Dubov shrugged and laughed.

Then, Dubov spoke to the singers, cadence slow and uninflected.

"You’re doing the song the way Michael Jackson did it. You’re not gonna do it better than him. Do it YOUR way. Own the song. Blow it out. Totally make it yours."

He rotated his head above the cane and grimaced. The girls fidgeted in place, bobbing their heads, tugging mic wires away from their sides.

"Where should we start?" Karolina said.

The pianist sang a line and gave them a note. They scanned their lyric sheets and started singing. We stumbled in behind them. The women gyrating in front of him, Duboff leaned out over his cane, eyes rolling up. After a minute of singing, the ladies turned around and looked at us while we flailed away. Pianist cut us off.

"We’ll work on the ending tomorrow. You’re gonna rehearse tomorrow?" Dubov’s voice was crisp now.

Margherita looked at Dubov. "Yeeeeah. We haven’t set a time but were gonna do it for sure"

By “That’s Amore", we were four hours on the clock. The singers were elbow-deep in their lyric sheets, figuring out the cuts for the Italian medley. I started out playing pads under their vocal. It seemed pointless, so I stopped and didn’t play a note for more than a half-hour. Eventually I looked up. Four feet away, Dubov, face porcine, eyes dim, fixed on me. He tapped Mo's shoulder. The two men spoke mouth to ear like lovers. Next time the music stopped, Mo leaned toward me, shielding his mouth with the back of his hand. “Harry wants to know why you’re just sitting there. I told him you guys don’t have parts because you didn’t know which songs we were working on, right? Can you just make something up that works for now. He’s wondering what he's paying you for.”

The singers looked at us, unsure if they should start.

“Go ahead. We're done talking.” I said.

Mo interrupted. “We all think the band needs time to make real arrangements with the correct parts, especially for the horns. Not their fault, of course"

Pianist was the guy for this. He’d produced or MD'ed many high-level gigs. Sondheim himself was moved to tears by one of his arrangements. Out of earshot, Pianist negotiated a price and promised parts for the whole show by the next day, a feat since it was already 11:30 PM.

Musically we made little progress that first night, agreeing to meet the next evening. When we wrapped up, Dubov and Mo were optimistic . Getting Dubov out of his chair took a minute.

“A piece of advice for you guys" he said, wincing, “don’t ever get three back surgeries in row. It's no f***king fun"

When we finally left the studio, everyone talked at once. I always fear the axe in these situations. Rich folks just don’t get us and explaining usually sounds like excuses or incompetence. My trumpet colleague had experience with Dubov. “He doesn’t know music, but he knows right away when someone is bulls**ing.”

The next night, the singers greeted us with hugs. Margherita reported “I took four voice lessons today and did yoga, then we rehearsed”

“Sounds like a good day. Where'd you go for those lessons?”

“The teachers came to me"

I added up the cost of those in-house lessons. Nice work if you can get it…

Dubov and Mademoiselle came late. The walker idled outside and Mlle ceremoniously ferried his cane.

With written parts, the patchwork medleys were easier to follow. We didn’t need to stay late. After a couple run-throughs we started packing up.

“Harry, what should we wear?”

“Black. Black suits. All black. I mean, you’re all gangsters, right?” Dubov laughed, mostly to himself. “Hey” he called to Pianist “ you’re Israeli, right?”

Pianist answered quietly.

“You guys are f***kin gangsters, right? Israelis? C'mon! All Israelis are f**kin gangsters.” He got a big kick out of saying this to the two gentle Israelis in the band. Some of us knowing he’d paid former Mossad agents to surveil journalists and his victims.

On the way out, I asked Mo about payment. Had I sent my info to Dubov’s people? Did I have a PayPal? They were doing PayPal. Invoice them all your info. I reminded him that he was paying me directly. “I don’t think I said that. He has an accounting department. They take care of that stuff.”

*********************************************************************

Next “Two for the Show" or “Don’t Rain on My Charade”

[themurphyzone]

Spend the Day with Someone You Love Ch 5

Happy Platypus Day!

Ch 5- Lights, Camera, Traction! Part 1

“Silly face!” Sara and Milo posed, making ridiculous expressions as they took selfies in front of a life size statue of Time Ape. Melissa ate her chocolate sundae, blissfully unaware of her surroundings. Zack whistled, pretending he didn’t know the Murphy siblings when other people gave them strange looks. Three bags containing pillows, blankets, and snacks lay at his feet. 

“This is so going on my blog!” Sara exclaimed. “Come on, everyone! To Edgy Subject!” She led the others to the ground floor, stopping to check Milo’s shoelaces before he stepped on the escalator.  

“What’s Edgy Subject?” Zack asked.

“The store for all our Dr. Zone needs! Oh, and other shows too,” Milo said, grinning wildly. “We make it a point to go to Edgy Subject every time we go to the mall. I’d estimate about 84% of Sara’s allowance is spent there.”

“And once you see something you like but can’t buy, it will be ingrained into your memory. Forever. Forever!” Sara laughed maniacally, holding a flashlight under her chin. She frowned. “I can never pull this off without sufficient darkness.” She stuck the flashlight in Milo’s backpack.

Zack looked at Melissa for help. “There’s no escape, Zack,” she smirked. “You’ll preserve your sanity much better if you go along with it.”

Sara held the door to Edgy Subject open, shooing Milo and Melissa inside. “Zack, since you’re still a newbie, let me give you some advice,” she said, throwing out an arm to bar his path. “First, you must show self-restraint.”

“Whoo! Vinyl figurines, here I come!” a teenager with pink hair screamed. Sara pulled Zack out of the way as she barreled past them. 

“Watch out for that puddle!” Melissa yelled. The teenager paid her no heed, slipping on a small puddle and crashing head first into a nearby display stand. 

“Otherwise that happens. Is she okay?” Sara called to Milo.

“She’s not concussed!” Milo yelled. 

“She’ll be fine,” Sara murmured in relief. She turned back to Zack. “The second is that you should never venture to the back of the store.” 

“I’ll take your word on that one,” Zack wrote it down in his notebook. “Is there a third rule?” 

Sara nodded. “The third and final rule is to just find something nice! So what are we waiting for?” Sara walked over to a shelf displaying Dr. Zone merchandise, picking up a small box and examining it carefully. 

Milo was looking through a stack of Space Adventure T-shirts. “Hey, Zack! What’s your shirt size?” 

“Why?” Zack asked.

“Milo wants matching T-shirts in case we ever have a school event that might call for it in the future,” Melissa explained. 

“A medium,” Zack said. Milo handed him a shirt. Zack’s eyes widened, staring at the price tag in shock. “That’s expensive!” he gasped. 

“Quality isn’t cheap, but it’s totally worth it,” Milo said. “If you’re worried about the price, it’s fine! I was planning on paying for these myself. It was my idea anyway!” 

“No, that’s all right,” Zack protested. “You don’t have to! Really!” 

“Zack, we insist! We’re all friends here, and we are absolutely not letting you walk out of here empty-handed!” Melissa declared. 

“She’s right, Zack!” Milo agreed cheerfully, walking over to the register to purchase the shirts. As he pulled out his wallet, his elbow smacked into a rack of stuffed animals, the entire display crashing to the floor. “My bad,” Milo laughed nervously. “Sorry.” 

The cashier handed Milo his items. “Just a typical day here. No worries.” He moved away from the register in order to clean up the scattered stuffed animals. 

By the end of their spree at Edgy Subject, Sara had bought several boxes of keychains and was attempting to explain their appeal to Zack. “So far I’m missing two out of a set of twenty. I still need Time Ape in his transchronological form and Dr. Zone’s infamous toga outfit.” 

Zack raised an eyebrow. “So what if you get a repeat? You’re throwing five dollars away just to satisfy your collective need to have the entire set?”

“If you get a repeat, give it to a friend!” Sara grinned. “I forgot how many I gave to Milo and Melissa.” 

“Eleven for Milo, three for me,” Melissa said, sliding several wristbands of anime characters onto her arms. 

Zack had simply purchased two buttons with cheesy slogans on them, pinned to his backpack strap proudly. “I still don’t see the appeal.” 

Sara tore one of the boxes open. “You’ll understand soon enough-hey! Guys, I finally have the toga now!” She proudly showed off a small, detailed keychain of Dr. Zone in a white toga, one arm outstretched while the other held a scroll, as if he was dictating a speech to an audience. She passed it around, keeping an eye on Milo as he studied the figure. 

“I take some of what I said back,” Zack scratched his head awkwardly. “This looks really cool actually.”

“I’m gonna get lucky a second time, just watch!” Sara pulled a Trashcandroid out of another box, frowning. “Maybe this one? No. Now? Ugh, I always get the Time Bee-icle.” A pile of plastic and cardboard was increasing on the bench next to her. After a fruitless effort, she was finally left with one box. “One more. Please be the one I need. Please, with a double scoop of rocky road and cherries, be it!”  Sara reached inside, pulling out yet another Trashcandroid. She groaned. “Take the hurt away guys. Take it away.” 

Melissa grabbed one of the Trashcandroids, pushing the other repeats to Zack. “You’ll get it next time, Sara!” Milo patted her on the back. 

“Hey, check this out! There’s a contest that’ll be held at 2 in the center of the mall!” Melissa showed them a pamphlet plucked from a small kiosk. “And the grand prize is a truckload of pistachios!” 

“Cool! We should enter!” Milo said. “It’d be fun!” 

“We’d have to re-enact a love scene though. And Phantom of the Opera is banned. That’s a shame,” Melissa said, pointing to the fancy cursive letters that stated the objective of the contest. “Are there any good ones from Dr. Zone?” 

“You and Zack sign us up, Milo and I will start brainstorming,” Sara said, sitting down on a marshmallow cushion. Zack and Melissa headed to the sign-up, while Milo set police tape around the perimeter. “How about the scene from ‘The Zone’ series where Sierra kisses Dr. Zone in the lair of the evil Antonian matriarch?” 

“I didn’t really care for Sierra,” Milo admitted. “Not much personality.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sara scratched her chin. “I don’t want to go with the one from the Dr. Zone series where Valerie kisses his corpse. I mean, ew.” She shuddered.

“I’ve got it!” Milo snapped his fingers in realization. “The love scene from the Pendulum of Space-Time arc in the Dr. Zone Files!”

“That’s it! Melissa and Zack have at least finished that arc! And there’s four parts to play, so it will be perfect!” Sara exclaimed. 

“Can I be Dr. Zone this time?” Milo asked. 

Sara nodded. “Good idea. You need to branch out more. I’ve been meaning to try role-playing Time Ape myself. We should probably look at that part again.” Sara scooted closer to Milo so he could see the video on her phone. 

“Boo!” a hand clapped Milo’s shoulder, making him suddenly jerk forward, yelping. Milo lost his balance, falling off the seat and hitting his chin against the carpet. 

“I’m okay!” he grunted. 

“Sorry, Milo!” Melissa knelt down to help him up. “I couldn’t resist.”

“It’s fine. So did you and Zack sign us up?” Milo rubbed his sore jaw. 

“Our number is 13,” Melissa showed him an entry slip with all their names printed on it. “Anyways, any ideas for our skit?”

“We do! So, you want to be the villain or the damsel in distress?” Milo asked.

“Villain,” Melissa said without hesitation. “I can’t damsel. And I only distress about grades.” 

“Cool!” Sara said. “Here are your lines, so we can at least run through it before we go on. Milo, get the props! Let’s break a leg! Triple exclamation point!”

Everyone stared, unsure what to make of her poor choice of words. Sara laughed nervously. “Not literally, of course. I’d really prefer no femurs getting crushed or snapped.” 

Zack gulped, clasping his hands together as he looked at the ceiling. “Don’t make me wear a skirt... Don’t make me wear a skirt....”

“Ladies and gentlemen! My name is Phineas! Welcome to to our 2nd annual Valentine’s Day contest! Like last year, contestants will be performing a love scene from any media of their choice, sans Phantom of the Opera. You can thank Buford for that one,” the host, a boy with a triangle-shaped head, announced. The audience cheered loudly. 

“Sure,” a husky boy grunted from the judge’s panel. “Everyone blame the bully.” 

“You have five minutes to impress the judges and wow the audience! And if you have last minute problems, Ferb is always happy to help,” Phineas pointed to his expressionless brother, who simply gave a thumbs-up.

Milo fussed with his Dr. Zone hat while Buford and the two other judges, a scrawny boy and a girl in a pink bow, bickered over who was at fault for that embarrassing incident. “It’s amazing they allowed a bunch of kids to host the contest,” Sara commented. A felt stopwatch hat rested in her lap. 

“This is entertaining in itself,” Melissa smirked. “Beats midday programming by a longshot.”

Zack buried his head in his arms. “Does anyone have a spare sweater? I’m freezing,” he complained. After learning that they were being judged in presentation, Sara had dug up an old, spare dress from her preteen years out of the trunk of her car. The dress fit him surprisingly well, although it had a color that reminded Milo of compost. He was starting to remember why Sara used to fight tooth and nail to avoid that particular article of clothing. 

“Without further ado, let the contest begin!” Phineas exclaimed. 

The first four entries all had elaborate costumes, though some of their acting suffered. The fourth group, consisting of two brothers and a mannequin in a dress, were extremely bad. The older brother kept shoving the younger one to the side so he could hog the spotlight. It was clear both of them were becoming increasingly aggravated each other, and the audience started to boo them. Finally, their disastrous skit ended when the mannequin’s head popped off during the climax and hit a switch to the side, causing a trapdoor to open on the stage‘s floor and send them plummeting to the mall’s basement. 

“Ferb, you might want to bubble wrap that switch,” Phineas remarked. “Thoughts, Isabella?”

“I do!” Isabella said in an odd, dreamy voice. Buford tapped her on the shoulder. “Huh, what?” She looked around, blushing madly. “Oh. It was bad. Two out of ten for acting. Three out of ten for presentation. Just plain bad.” The other judges agreed with her, though it took a little convincing from Isabella and Buford (the latter with his fist) so that the other boy didn’t whip up a complicated equation to explain what went wrong. 

“She’s way too nice,” Melissa mumbled. “I wouldn’t give a one to that performance.” 

Sara stood up. “I’ll be back in a minute. I need to chat with Ferb and see if the stage will be safe for us.” She awkwardly moved to the aisle, apologizing to various people as she blocked their view. 

Milo nodded, engrossing himself in the next skit, where a girl in a Ducky Momo outfit sang about loving a tree. The lyrics were silly, but she was an excellent singer and pulled it off incredibly well. Milo and Zack got up to give her a standing ovation, while Melissa whistled from her seat. The rest of the audience loved it too, and it took several minutes before the applause quieted enough so the judges could give their assessments on it. 

“Give it up for my sister, everyone! Next up, we have-” Phineas squinted at his cue card. “Blastweneededagroupname? Strange. Baljeet, didn’t you look these forms over?”

“I told you not to let Derek handle the sign-up station but did you listen to me? No, of course not!” Baljeet fired back. “He did this last year too!” 

Phineas stared. “All right then,” he coughed, a grin quickly returning to his face. “Please welcome Arthur, Frank, and Rebecca!” 

His hand swept towards the empty stage. Milo could have sworn he heard crickets.

“Awkward,” Sara singsonged as she came back. 

“So how’d it go?” Zack asked. 

“Pretty well,” Sara shrugged. “He agreed to rig up some safety precautions behind the scenes. Well, I think he did. He’s not much of a talker.”

“Arthur, Frank, and Rebecca?” Phineas repeated for the tenth time. “If you’re not on stage in two minutes, we’ll have to disqualify you!” 

I couldn’t resist putting in the PnF group. I miss them.  

[loribos]

New Post has been published on Toronto Events, Activities and Entertainment

New Post has been published on http://www.torontonicity.com/2017/08/17/top-10-evening-gowns-at-miss-world-canada-2017/

Top 10 Evening Gowns at Miss World Canada 2017

By Alice Li, Miss Toronto 2017

Miss World Canada 2017 came to its climactic conclusion on Saturday July 22, 2017 at the Metro Toronto Convention Centre, where fifty seven contestants from across the country graced the stage, and Cynthia Menard won the crown. We followed the girls throughout the week and right up until the night of the competition. We joined them as they explored the city, and wrote about what it’s like inside the 2017 Search for Miss World Canada on Sharing Toronto magazine.

Fashion Designers Judge the Evening Gowns

The Evening Gown segment of the annual competition is one of the most anticipated portions of any beauty pageant. It’s an opportunity for each contestant to show her personality, elegance, and sense of style. For Miss World Canada 2017, the evening gown score was worth 20% of the contestants’ total and as such, it’s the highest-weighted category. Other segments include swimsuit, runway, interviews, charity fundraising, and social media.

We have put together a list of the top 10 evening gowns that caught our attention this year. The selections were picked regardless of the girls’ actual placement in the competition, giving everyone another chance to shine. We interviewed all 10 girls to find out more about each designer and the story behind the dress.

Making it to the national competition is an achievement in itself – congratulations to all the beautiful contestants of Miss World Canada 2017!

In no particular order:

Lia Fallah at Miss World Canada 2017

Name: Lia Fallah Title: Miss Vancouver World 2017 Gown: From Jonathan’s in New Westminister

This beauty has great posture on stage, and this dress really captured her natural elegance. The colour of this dress really suits Lia and her sweet personality! At first glance, this gown looks like a classic trumpet silhouette, but this is one of those gowns that makes you look twice! It is actually full of flower details, from the waistline all the way down to the skirt ruffles. We think that the details are perfectly balanced without being too distracting. That’s the key to showing off your personality in an evening gown without losing focus!

Lia found this gown on a mannequin while walking by a store called Jonathan’s, but the store was closed at the time. She actually waited around an hour until the store opened so that she could try it on! Although she originally had a bolder colour in mind, such as red, she immediately fell in love with this dress. Plus, it reminded her of the traditional Persian Toranj style, which finalized her decision! Looks like it was well worth the hour-long wait for the store to open!

Joana Szeen at Miss World Canada 2017

Name: Joana Szeen Title: Miss Southwestern Ontario World 2017 Gown: Designed by Joana Szeen, made by Edith Lichtherte

You could not miss this stunning shade of red gracing the stage! Joana looked red-carpet ready in this unique design. You can never go wrong designing your own dress because it is the most intimate way to express your personality. We love how she chose to put her hair up, as it kept a clean and elegant look from head to toe. There is one word that best describes the gown: romance. And that is also how Joana summarized it herself!

Joana picked out every detail on this dress, including the fabric! Edith Lichtherte, a designer from Windsor, Ontario, added some finishing touches, including some roses on the back. This surely turned out to be the romantic and elegant ball gown Joana envisioned and we love how Joana turned an idea into life! Great work, Joana!

Avigail Aaron at Miss World Canada 2017

Name: Avigail Aaron Title: Miss Thornhill World 2017

Look at this shade of gorgeous purple popping onstage! Purple is not a popular colour for pageant gowns, but when Avigail wears it, the colour really speaks for itself! At first glance, the style reminded us of the Latin ballroom jazz and flare. That’s probably why this dress caught our attention – it’s all about showmanship! This gown features a nude mesh covered in just the right amount of embellishments. We could not take our eyes off of this beauty! Avigail also matched her shade of lipstick to her gown – we didn’t miss the small details!

Avigail also agreed that the unique design of this gown is what caught her attention. Fun fact: Avigail only had one week to prepare for Miss World Canada and borrowed this dress from another pageant girl through family friends! Finding a dress within a week can be very stressful! Although she was tight on time, it certainly didn’t hinder her performance onstage!

Glare Balaoing at Miss World Canada 2017

Name: Glare Balaoing Title: Miss Montreal District World 2017 Gown Designer: Sherri Hill

This gown is one-of-a-kind! Featuring a black bodypiece, a side slit, and just the right touch of flowers, Glare totally pulled off this gown! We could not have envisioned anything else on Glare – it matches her dark hair and complements her features so well! We love how the flowers really pop up against the black body piece to show a bit of personality without distracting away from her smile.

Glare is a big fan of Sherri Hill designs and she says that this gown really showed her true personality. For her, the flowers signify that she is blooming as a woman with a beautiful heart. We love that Glare put so much thought and meaning into the symbolism of her gown. It suits her so well – it looks like the dress was made for her!

Sheneice White at Miss World Canada 2017

Name: Sheneice White Title: Miss Peel Region World 2017 Gown Designer: Terani from Anna Lina Sposa Boutique in Vaughn, Ontario

This bedazzling gown is something we can imagine seeing on a Miss USA or Miss Universe stage! This girl is already one step ahead of the game looking ready for internationals! We are obsessed with all the details head-to-toe. It is sophisticated in its beading, yet simple at the same time with its silhouette. And the leg slit is just the perfect touch to finish this modern and classy look!

Shen went pageant dress shopping with an idea of what she wanted, which was “form fitting and glamorous.” This was actually the fourth dress that she tried on because it was just so tough to find that “perfect” dress. When she was indecisive between her first three choices, she decided go back and search for something that could top all three. Anna Lina Sposa Boutique from “Say Yes to the Dress Canada” turned out to carry the winning choice. Shen says that she felt so relieved after purchasing this dress because she knew this was the right choice. Sometimes, you’ve just got to follow your heart and make the decisions you need to!

Terin Rothernel at Miss World Canada 2017

Name: Terin Rothernel Title: Miss Perth County World 2017 Gown Designer: Tony Bowls Paris, sponsored by Jacalyn Flood from Arbonne

This red speaks confidence from every angle! Simple yet sophisticated. This strapless mermaid gown is made from double jersey and features side peplum accents. Wow, it really pops out against Terin’s complexion and features! The elegance of the shape and train sets this gown apart from other red mermaids. What a classy selection!

Did you know that Terin picked out this gown at the very first shop she visited? Terin knows exactly what works best for her, which is red and anything from scarlet to maroon. She got some advice from her agent and agreed on a “long slinky red gown” vision. This dress had the perfect amount of “unique character” with a “classic style.” Terin skipped the glitzy glamour of rhinestones and sequins, and chose what was best for her. This final look is a red carpet dream come true and we think it definitely achieved the “old Hollywood starlet” that Terin was going for. We hope to see her wear it again when the occasion comes!

Maleeka Singh at Miss World Canada 2017

Name: Maleeka Singh Title: Miss Southcentral Ontario World 2017 Gown: Sponsored by Jasz Couture

Have you ever heard the saying when a dress makes you “feel like a million bucks?” This certainly did the magic for Maleeka because wow, she looks like she is walking across the stage about to receive her Oscar! What an unforgettable piece from head-to-toe!

Maleeka originally had another Jasz Couture gown in mind, but the store suggested Maleeka choose from the newer 2017 catalogue. When Maleeka saw this gown in the catalogue, she “instantly knew it was the one.” When the dress was being shipped to Canada, Maleeka was informed that it got turned away at the Canadian border. However, after some more phone calls, she realized the shipment was just undergoing a routine customs check. Phew! We are so glad how everything turned out because this final choice is a stunner! Maleeka is very grateful for all the help from Jasz Couture staff and the dress arrived fitting perfect!

Olivera Paripovic at Miss World Canada 2017

Name: Olivera Paripovic Title: Miss Quebec World 2017 Gown: Mackenzie Lace Gown by Marciano

Olivera keeps it simple and classy with this timeless design. She is a perfect example of “less is more.” No need for any fancy jewelry or accessories, this girl knows her style! We fell in love with this elegant lace design that gave Olivera a curvy mermaid silhouette.

When there was only two weeks left until the pageant, Olivera realized she still didn’t have a gown yet. She made an appointment at Loue1Robe in Montreal, which is a unique dress rental store. What a smart idea, because you won’t waste money to “buy an expensive dress which you’ll wear only once.” Olivera fell in love with this dress as soon as she tried it on and felt like she “could run the world.” She explains that this gown “represents me and my personality and I think that I made the right choice.” We are so glad that Olivera managed to find this stunner in-between her hectic July schedule! She also has a piece of advice to share: “Don’t shop for a dress a week before your big day!”

Katie Seto at Miss World Canada 2017

Name: Katie Seto Title: Miss Durham Region World 2017 Gown: From Sharleez Bridal

Full ball gowns could be a risky choice for beauty pageants, especially in the “Miss” division, as opposed to younger categories. They can be a complete hit or miss but for Katie, this was a definite hit! This stunning ball gown caught everyone’s attention and she really pulled it off! Katie’s styled her hair to match and her smile finished the look perfectly. One thing that judges look for is how comfortable the contestant looks onstage and we can tell that Katie loves her dress just as much as we do! Finding a dress that gives you confidence is the winning recipe!

We did not know that this was actually Katie’s backup gown! Katie’s original customized navy blue gown was delayed by shipping issues and did not work out. We would say that this was unfortunate and fortunate at the same time because Katie’s backup gown blew us away! It took Katie a lot of searching and comparing but this ball gown truly made her feel like a princess. Just look at the tiered details on the skirt! We are also a fan of Katie’s preparedness with a backup gown because no matter what competition you are going to, you always need to have a plan #B!

Jada Atkins at Miss World Canada 2017

Name: Jada Atkins Title: Miss Essex County World 2017 Gown: From Moda Plaza

Look at this golden goddess walking across stage! We are obsessed with how this dress hugs Jada’s curves so perfectly and the golden colour works magic on her! Jada makes this dress look like it was custom made for her. However, believe it or not, she actually borrowed it from her friend, who originally bought it as a prom dress.

Jada explains that she chose this gown because “it reminds (her) of Beyonce…gold is one of my favourite colours so it worked out perfect.” With a statement piece like this, Jada didn’t need any jewelry or accessories – she’s already got the smile and the walk. What an unforgettable statement piece of the evening!

There you have it, our Top 10 Evening Gowns for Miss World Canada 2017!

Last but not least, for my own evening gown…

Alice Li at Miss World Canada 2017

Name: Alice Li Title: Miss Toronto World 2017 Gown: Mac Duggal Couture

The previous pageant gown that I wore for Miss Earth Canada was an A-line white chiffon and I was in love with the dress. I know that white is my best colour and suited my personality/style. Whether it is an evening gown, interview outfit, or swimwear, I always go with white. For Miss World Canada, I wanted the same look while avoiding wearing the same gown again. It was a challenge because how could I find another gown that was not too similar, but also the same style?

I came by this dress at Winners when I happened to be walking around. It was the most unexpected find ever! This gown was hanging on the racks, on clearance for around $100, and it was the only one left! I saw the white chiffon, the touch of blue rhinestone accents and my heart skipped a beat. I grabbed the tags up close to read it again in disbelief – it was also exactly my size! I bought it right away without hesitation and felt so happy with my lucky find. I could not have imagined anything more perfect and the gown fit me so well I didn’t even need any alterations! It doesn’t matter how much your gown cost or where it’s from – wear what makes you feel confident!

[occasionalfics]

Vuelie, part i

So about three years ago, I was obsessed with Frozen. Enough to write fanfic. Instead of reblogging it, I’m reposting it because it’s entirely in read-mores on my main blog. It’s basically a novella at 96 Microsoft Word pages and about 28,000 words in total. Here’s the first chapter.

Rating: idk like it’s pretty clean or what have you

Summary: It’s the big day - the first Royal wedding Arandelle’s seen since Anna and Elsa’s parents’. Anna’s emotions are running high, but Elsa, for a change, seems to be keeping cool. *wink wink*

~~

Elsa was tired of hearing what dignitaries expected she must be feeling. Sure, her younger sister was getting married first, and sure, she was the lonely Ice Queen, but that mattered little to her. She was happy for Anna and Kristoff, gleeful at the sight of the perfect white wedding gown that had been designed just for her sister, and delighted that the kingdom was coming together again as one unit as they had under their father’s rule.

           She so was irritated by being told, “It must be so hard to see your younger sister marry before you,” that her normal response was, “Actually, it couldn’t be easier.” She simply didn’t understand why others, having known the terror that’d stricken her when she’d thought Anna was dead, thought she was jealous or exceedingly angry. Anna was happy and she was alive. That was all Elsa could ask for.

           When the day came, Elsa was woken up the way she’d been when she and Anna were small girls: Anna pulled the curtains to Elsa’s window open and screamed as she jumped onto her sister’s bed. Elsa groaned. In place of Anna’s laughter and begging to build a snowman, she screamed again: “I’m getting married!”

           Elsa smiled. Anna stretched out over her sister and sighed, the way she had when she was about three or four and told Elsa that the sky was awake and so was she. She said, “Elsa I’m getting married today,” in a rather rushed, nervous tone. Anna turned over and peeked around Elsa’s shoulder, almost pushing her nose against her sister’s.

           “Elsa,” she repeated, “I’m getting married today.”

           Elsa couldn’t tell if Anna looked terrified or ecstatic. Possibly both, she figured.

           “Yes you are,” Elsa agreed, struggling to get most of Anna’s weight off of her. Her younger sister rolled off and laid next to Elsa so that they faced one another. Both of them were still in their nightgowns, Anna’s a pale grassy green and Elsa’s a light blue, both befitting of their persons.

           “I’m really getting married,” Anna repeated again. Elsa giggled slightly and briefly wished they’d had more moments like this, especially now that she was about to give her sister away to her future brother-in-law.

           “That’s not going to change no matter how many times you say it,” she responded. Anna just stared at Elsa quietly for a few long seconds.

           “What if-“ she started.

           “Don’t even go there,” Elsa cut in. “Today is not the day to be playing the ‘What if?’ game. Everything will be perfect, I promise.” She moved some hair away from Anna’s bright, wide blue eyes that almost exactly matched her own, then pushed herself into a sitting position. She smiled once more at Anna before sliding off the bed and heading to the open doors.

           “Dagny,” Elsa called down the hall. Within seconds, a plump, round woman turned the corner with a simple curtsey. “Tell the others that Princess Anna is awake and ready to get ready.” Dagny curtsied once more, then turned around and headed back down another hallway.

           When she turned back to Anna, she almost doubled over laughing.

           “What?” Anna asked, sitting up. Elsa leaned against the doorpost and held her stomach. “What is so funny?” her sister asked again.

           When she regained enough composure, Elsa pushed herself up and walked to her sister. She picked her pristine, hand-carved hairbrush off of the bedside bureau. She attacked Anna’s hair with it, knowing that if she hadn’t, she would’ve had a huge struggle trying to tame the light brown locks.

           “You have a major case of bed-head, honey,” she said in the most big-sister manner she could. The two of them giggled together as Elsa brushed out all the knots she could find. Before she was done, there was a knock on the door, but since been they’d left open, Dagny trotted in with a huge smile on her face.

           “Excuse me your highnesses, but we have the dress,” she said in a quaint voice. Elsa nodded.

           “Bring it in,” he said with a grin. She turned so that she could brush the side of Anna’s hair and so that Anna could see as two servants brought in the dress, as to keep it from scraping against the floor. Elsa put the brush down and turned to Dagny. “Would you mind helping me?” she asked gracefully. The older woman shook her head and followed her queen to the closet across the room. Inside was a wooden mannequin that was nothing more than the silhouette of a woman with a head, and a post at the bottom that connected it to a round base. Elsa beckoned it out of the closet carefully, and she and Dagny felt the cool burst of air that blew towards them as the mannequin moved.

           They carried it together across the room and set it at the end of the bed, and as Elsa hurried to close the large doors to her bedroom, the other two servant women unbuttoned the back of the dress and carefully, with Dagny’s help and direction, on the mannequin. A few of the back buttons were done up again and for a few seconds, all the women in the room were silent.

           The dress was beautiful and simple, but even on the mannequin, it had all the best part of Anna’s personality. The high neck was a white, sheer material, as were the sleeves. The bodice was a red corset with a dark pink filigree pattern, lined with a light silver, shiny material that wrapped around the shoulders in an elegant way; the silver material also lined the waist of the dress, connecting the skirt to the bodice. Just below the silver was a small frilly red piece, then the white skirt separated into four sections by three wide red stripes. The dress was as far from Elsa’s taste as she could imagine, but not in a bad way. It fit Anna’s style perfectly; it was fun and beautiful, and there was a warmth about it that reminded every woman in the room of Anna.

           “It’s gorgeous,” the younger sister said, leaning against the metal bedframe. She was staring at the small red charm that hung from a slim silver chain that Dagny had just placed on the mannequin. Elsa watched as Anna inspected every detail of the dress, then looked at the other two servant women.

           “Where’s the crown?” she asked simply. The women looked at one another, then one of them hurried off out of the room.

           “Do I really need a crown?” Anna asked. “I mean everyone knows I’m, well, me, so do I need to make it clearer-“

           “Yes,” Elsa and Dagny answered at once. Elsa glanced at Dagny; Dagny smiled at Elsa; Anna looked between the both of them and sighed. Elsa continued, “Anna, it’s tradition. You’re getting married – this is a royal wedding.”

           “I know,” Anna replied. “But I feel bad parading around in front of Kristoff like that because he-“

           “He has a title, and you know it.”

           “It’s not the same.”

           “That never bothered you before,” Elsa said, sounding a bit more defensive than she meant to. She could feel the tips of her fingers start to freeze over as she put her hands on her hips.

           Anna seemed to be holding her breath. She looked like she might retort, but after a few quiet seconds, she let out her breath and lowered herself a bit.

           “You’re right. Besides, Kristoff is marrying me, not Princess Anna.”

           Dagny looked as if she were completely lost in this conversation, but Elsa calmed and put a smile back on her face.

           “Exactly. He’s not looking for a title. He’s probably not even interested in the dress, as long as you’re the one wearing it down that aisle.”

           Anna smiled and straightened a bit, then leaned over the metal bedframe to hug Elsa. The embrace was returned, and just as the sisters leaned back, the door opened with the third servant woman. She was out of breath but cheerful, and she held the crown up with one hand as she closed the door with the other.

           “Shall we get started?” Elsa asked.

           With smiles all around, they did. Two more servant women came through the door with brushes, clips, underskirts, stockings, and a pair of black shoes. All the fuss was over Anna, who had Elsa finish brushing her hair until it was smooth and silky again, and then let the servant women help both of them into their dresses. They sat side by side on Elsa’s bed as Dagny put Elsa’s hair into a tight braid and one of the other women put Anna’s into an equally tight bun that was then wound up on the top-back section of her head. Elsa pushed the small golden crown into Anna’s hair carefully, then stepped back, and smiled. She felt her eyes well up and her breath catch.

           “You’re so beautiful, Anna,” she said. In a quick motion, she had stepped back towards Anna and wrapped her arms around her little sister, crying gently into her neck. Anna was warm and easy to hold onto, but Dangy tapped Elsa lightly on the shoulder and interrupted the embrace.

           “I hate to break up this lovely sight, your grace,” she started, “but the Princess’s dress in sensitive to the touch.”

           Elsa squeezed her sister once more, then stood back again. Anna wiped tears away from Elsa’s face, smiling all the while.

           “I have to go tell the guards to start letting the guests in, but I’ll be back,” Elsa said. Anna nodded and Elsa gave her one last loving glance before walking around the bed to the doors. She gave one last look over her shoulder and watched as Anna nodded at something Dagny had said, then closed the doors behind her and headed down the hall.

           When she found the guards at the front of the castle, she smiled gently at them and said, “Please send the word to start seating the guests. Princess Anna will be ready momentarily, so please also have our carriage readied.” Both guards nodded and saluted their queen with a simultaneous chanting of, “Of course, your Majesty.”

           Instead of returning to Anna right away, Elsa wandered the halls of the palace until she found the giant, gold-framed portrait of her parents. The black curtain that had been put over the portrait when they passed was pulled back on her orders, seeing as it was a beautiful day full of love and celebration. She didn’t want her parents, even inanimate versions of them, behind a black cloth. It seemed fitting to let them see the light today.

           She smiled up at her mother and father and tried to remember them from when she was young. Her last memory of them was when they had left for the wedding at Corona, a journey from which they had never returned. That was not the thought Elsa wanted to have today. She wanted to picture her father smiling at his girls, her mother picking flowers with her and Anna behind the drawing room. So she did, and because of it, she felt a warmth in her heart that she only felt anymore when she had long, wonderful talks with the sister she’d missed out on for years.

           Unfortunately, being the queen of Arendelle meant those talks were few and far between. She had other duties to adhere to, but she wasn’t really worried about leaving Anna on her own anymore now that her sister had Kristoff. Even indirectly, he helped being Queen easier on Elsa.

           Her thought was broken when a servant named Vidar cleared his throat from behind her. Elsa turned as Vidar bowed. When he straightened, he said, “Your carriage is ready, your Highness.” Elsa’s smile shortened just a bit as she thanked Vidar, then headed from one corridor to the next until she reached Anna’s room.

           She knew that she and Anna had gotten ready in her own room, but Elsa thought her sister might have returned to her room for comfort, knowing that her own belongings were there. When she knocked, no answer was given. Elsa opened the doors and peered into the empty room, then closed the doors again and headed towards her own room.

           On the way, she ran into Dagny, now in her own dress clothes. “Dagny,” she called, “Is Anna still in my bedroom?”

           Dagny nodded. “I do believe so, your Highness. But shouldn’t the two of you have left by now?” she asked. Elsa stood shocked for a moment, not realizing until then how long she had been looking at the portrait of her parents.

           “Make sure the rest of the staff makes it to the church, Dagny,” Elsa instructed. The plump lady nodded and curtsied, then turned to find any other servants. Elsa headed down the corridor to her room, and when she reached for the knob, she realized it was locked. She tried to open the doors multiple times, but the knob wouldn’t budge.

           She sighed and knocked the way she remembered Anna knocking when they were girls. “Anna,” she called. “Please, I know you’re in there. People are going to wonder why you’re late.” She paused, but Anna said nothing. Elsa put her head against the door. “I know you’re nervous, but he is too. I’m right here for you. Don’t make him wait.” Still there was no response. “You’ve been waiting for this day for years and years – don’t let it all slip through.”

           Elsa felt herself tear up again. She knew what to say next without even thinking about it. It was something Anna had asked her every year since she’d been locked away in her room. Their childhood isolation didn’t make sense to Anna; all she’d wanted was a sister to….to….

           “Do you want to build a snowman?” Elsa asked, choking up between every word. Her eyes closed as tears started to gently fall down her face, partly because she’d wished she’d said yes to that question when she was younger and partly because she knew Anna would be crying over it as well. She was surprised that her hands hadn’t started to freeze or that the door hadn’t started growing frost, but she wasn’t too interested in analyzing the reasons why.

           She heard the doorknob click, and suddenly she almost fell onto Anna as the doors opened. Her beautiful, soon-to-be-wed sister was crying, a small green handkerchief held up to one of her eyes as a smile spread across her face.

           “I do,” Anna finally replied, her voice wavering just as much as Elsa’s had when she’d asked her question. In a quick motion, the sisters embraced, laughed, and held on tighter than they ever had before. When Elsa finally pulled back just slightly, she took Anna’s handkerchief and wiped her sister’s face clear before throwing the green cloth into her room.

           “Come on,” she said to Anna. “Your Mountain Man is waiting for you.” Elsa turned and balled a fist, then put it against her hip. Anna wrapped her arm through her sister’s, and they headed down the hallway to the front doors.

[anavoliselenu]

Stepping stone chapter 9

I climbed inside Justin’s Tesla at five o’clock. After I buckled in, I leaned my head back against the seat and looked to him as he sat down in the drivers seat.

 “I can’t believe how relatively easy you changed that deal for me,” I told him.

 “I can be reasonable, Selena. You should have given me a chance before deciding to ignore me for a day and half. Don’t do that again,” he warned.

 I threw my hands up in mock surrender.

 “Sorry, but I thought I was going to have to fight in order to get you to agree to it. The research took some time and I wanted to make sure that I had all of my ducks in a row first.”

 “Honestly, I would have preferred if you just took the company free and clear. But in hindsight, I should have known that you would have never accepted it. I can understand your reasoning, as well as appreciate it. Besides, your way of thinking sat much better with Stephen and Bryan.”

 I thought about the meeting with Justin’s accountant and lawyer that began two hours earlier. Initially, they seemed more than just a little bit hesitant. It was as if they were sizing up the woman that Justin wanted to hand a portion of his company over to. If I were in their shoes, I wouldn’t trust me either. We ended our meeting on a more positive note, but I still had some reservations.

 “Do you think that they approved?”

 “It doesn’t matter if they approve or not. That’s not what I pay them for. This is a business arrangement between the two of us. They were just there to work out the figures and the legalities.”

 Justin assumed that I was talking about the deal, but I was more concerned over whether they approved of me or not. After watching the three men together, it was apparent that they were more than just business associates. Their casual banter was too friendly at times. If they were truly his friends, their approval meant significantly more to me for some odd reason.

 Why do I care if they approve of me or not?

 I stayed quiet, choosing to not clarify what I meant or voice my concerns.

 Justin flipped on the car stereo and backed out of the parking space. Green Day’s latest release pumped through the speakers as we made our way to the costume shop in Chelsea. I began to wonder what sort of outfit I should buy. Having never been to an upscale costume ball of sorts, I didn’t know how elaborately dressed people would be.

 “A penny for your thoughts,” Justin said after a time.

 “I was just thinking about how decked out people may or may not be. I don’t want to look stupid.”

 Justin laughed.

 “Angel, you could never look stupid.”

 “That’s debatable,” I said dryly.

 Apprehension crept into my veins. I still didn’t know if I was ready for this extravaganza.

 When we pulled up to the front of the shop, I looked out the window. A red awning hung over the entrance with the name 25th Street Vintage written across it. There were mannequins in the storefront windows; each one dressed in 1920’s styled long and flowing gowns that were a kaleidoscope of colors. The jewel tones of them were simply breathtaking.

 Justin came around to my side of the car and opened the passenger door for me. He took my hand as I climbed out.

 “Ready to have some fun?” he asked, his eyes full of mischief. I was still eyeing up the dresses in the windows. Each one looked as if it might weigh fifty pounds.

 “Ready as I’ll ever be I guess. Let’s go.”

 We entered the boutique and bells chimed on the door. Almost instantly, we were face to face with a young, cheery faced girl. She didn’t look to be a day over seventeen years old.

 “Hello and welcome! My name is Brielle. What can I help you with today?”

 “Thank you. We are in looking for –,” Justin began. He was cut off by a woman that exited from a curtained off room.

 “You must be Justin Stone,” she announced. I looked to Justin. He appeared to be taken aback by the woman.

 “Why, yes I am. And you might be?”

 “I am Dejah,” she said in an accent that I couldn’t quite place. As she came nearer to us, she began to chuckle. “Don’t look so surprised, dear. I’m not a psychic. Your sister telephoned me to tell me that you would be in this evening.”

 “Ah, Justine. I can only imagine what she said to you. She can be a bit overzealous at times,” Justin said lightly.

 “Oh, not at all monsieur! She said that I should be on the look out for a tall, dark haired man, most likely wearing a suit. However, she failed to tell me how handsome you were,” Dejah added with a wink.

 Justin afforded her compliment a small smile. I may have been jealous, but the thick streaks of gray that flowed through her long black hair told me that she was easily twenty or thirty years his senior. Between that and her oversized jewelry, she reminded me of a carnival gypsy.

 “Dejah, this is Selena Cole. Both her and I are in need of specific attire for a function that we will be attending together. Did Justine explain to you what we are here for?” Justin asked.

 “Yes, of course. She told me all about the event. It sounds like it’s going to be a marvelous occasion.”

 “Yes, it will be,” he replied.

 “If I might add, I’m rather envious over missing it. I can just see it now – the costumes, the setting, the air of a French cabaret come to life,” Dejah rambled on wistfully.

 Justin cleared his throat, albeit somewhat impatiently.

 “About the costumes,” he began.

 “Yes, yes. I talk too much. Your sister did say that your time is precious. Come with me and we will start going over everything that you will need. You’ve come to the right place!”

 She spun on her heel and began walking away from us. I looked to Justin, but he just shook his head and motioned for me to follow the eccentric woman.

 She took us past long rows of clothing from eras gone past. Everything seemed to be organized according to decade, starting with Gucci trends of the 90’s all the way back to treasures from the turn of the century. I expected our shopping to take place in this area of the store, but the woman motioned for us to follow her up a set of wooden stairs.

 “This way, please. The second floor is what you need.”

 When we reached the top of the stairs, I gasped at the archival collection before me. It was literally a living museum of burlesque fashion. From the frills and ruffles of the can-can dress, to the beaded corselets of some long ago courtesan; Dejah’s collection was astoundingly authentic.

 “This piece here,” she said as she ran her hand along the lacey lines of an ivory colored gown. “It is rumored that it was worn by Mistinguett at the Moulin Rouge. However, I have been unable to verify the truth of that rumor, as many photographs and records were lost after the Second World War.”

 My eyes widened in surprise.

 “Are you saying that this clothing is the real thing? Not just costume replicas?” I asked incredulously.

 “Of course, my dear. My shop is not called 25th Street Vintage for nothing,” she proudly stated. “Now, I’ll leave you two to look around for a bit. When you are ready to try something on, give me a holler and I will assist you.”

 I looked at the displays that surrounded me. I walked slowly over to a rose colored silk dress. It was a beautiful gown, but not as ornate as the others in the room. I peeked at the price tag. Not surprisingly, it had a four-figure dollar amount attached to it.

 I moved over to a different dress, one that was a breathtaking emerald green with black lace. Rhinestone buttons secured the front of the bodice, while crisscross ties laced up the back. I fingered the satin material as my eyes traveled down the long train and over the beaded detail. The dress was exquisite, and I could picture myself wearing it. However, it came with a five-figure price tag.

 Yeah, there’s no way can I buy anything from here.

 I turned to Justin.

 “That green dress would look stunning on you,” he remarked.

 “Justin, this is a little out of my price range.”

 “Who said that you were paying?”

 “These dresses are outrageously priced. You’d be a fool to pay that much for something that I’ll most likely only wear once. I’m sure that we could find someplace cheaper.”

 “It’s only money, Selena. And I have plenty of it.”

 “Well, now that’s arrogance for you,” I said sarcastically. He frowned.

 “This is not about money. It’s about you being my date. And as my date, you will need to dress appropriately for the occasion.”

 “This is asinine. I mean, these costumes are beautiful, but I highly doubt that the other women in attendance will be dressed so extravagantly.”

 He ignored my comment and walked over to the stairway.

 “Dejah,” he called down. “Miss Cole would like to try on the green dress that you have on display up here.”

 “Justin! I do not!” I hissed.

 “Yes you do. I could tell by the way you were looking at it. Now be quiet. Dejah is on her way back up. I’ll not have an argument with you in front of her.”

 I half wanted to stomp my foot like a child, but refrained when Dejah reached the top of the stairs.

 “Lovely choice, dear,” she said as she began to remove the dress from the mannequin. “We do alterations on premise, but you may not need them. This looks to be about your size.”

 She held the dress up against me.

 “The color will suit her,” Justin commented. I scowled at him.

 “Yes, yes it will,” Dejah mused. “Fitting area is just this way. Once you have it on, I will help you tie up the back.”

 I begrudgingly went behind the curtain that she pushed aside for me and took the dress from her hands. I expected it to be heavy, but it wasn’t too bad considering my assumption about the dresses in the storefront.

 As I stripped out of my clothing, I could hear Dejah and Justin talking. She was explaining the various items that he could wear, pointing out which would go best with my dress.

 My dress.

 I scoffed to myself as I stepped into said dress. I slipped my arms into position and arranged the sleeves until they felt comfortable. There was not a mirror in the cordoned off fitting area, so I could only assume that I put it on correctly.

 “Dejah,” I called out to her. “I think I’m ready to be laced up.”

 She came behind the curtain, spun me around, and began to roughly tie up the laces. From the base of my spine to the middle of my back, the higher she went the tighter she pulled. All I could envision was that scene from Gone With The Wind, where Scarlett O’Hara was yelling at Mammy to tie it tighter.

 Women from back then had to be out of their minds. If she pulls any tighter, I won’t be able to breathe!

 When Dejah finished, she spun me around.

 “Come out here so that I can look at you properly, dear.” I followed her out of the fitting area to where Justin was looking at a display of suit coats with tails. Dejah stepped in front of me and gave me a slow look over. “Oh, monsieur. She is stunning. Absolutely stunning.”

 Justin turned at her words, and took in my appearance for the first time. His eyes lit up with appreciation.

 “Is it okay?” I asked him. “There wasn’t a mirror in the fitting room so I couldn’t see.”

 “Oh, how mindless of me!” Dejah exclaimed and motioned to her left. “The mirror is right over there.”

 I stepped over to the full-length mirror and slowly turned in a circle. The front of the dress was shorter than the back, leaving the tail of the train to barely brush the floor as I turned. Black beads were woven into the lace detail, sparkling as they caught the light. Sprigs of glittery feathers were used to accent the bust and waistline, giving the dress a luminous appeal.

 I truly loved everything about it. Not only did it look astonishingly elegant on me, but it also made me feel mysterious – like I could be anyone I wanted to be when wearing it. However, I was still silently fretting over the extravagant price Justin would have to pay for it.

 “It fits well. Perfect actually,” I said hesitantly and ran my hands over the bodice.

 Justin stepped up behind me and placed a simple headdress of rhinestones with green and black feathers upon my head. He ran his hands down my arms as he took in our reflections.

 “Selena, it’s more than perfect. Dejah, we’ll take the dress.”

 “I still think it was a ridiculous amount of money to spend,” I insisted as we entered the kitchen of Justin’s penthouse. I dropped my purse onto the breakfast bar and bent over to take off my shoes. I sat on one of the bar stools and began to rub the balls of my feet. After a ten-hour workday and four hours of shopping, my feet were killing me. I resigned myself to the fact that shoes and I would always have a love-hate relationship going on.

 “Forget about it. You’re going to look fabulous, and that’s all that matters,” he insisted for what may have been the ninety-ninth time.

 “Are you sure that I won’t be too overdone?”

 “Selena,” he said in a warning tone. “I thought we settled this in the car.”

 “Okay, okay. I’ll let it go,” I conceded, even if I still thought that the expenditure was beyond insensible. He came over to where I was sitting and placed his hands on my shoulders.

 “I want to buy you things. I enjoy spending money on you. Why can’t you accept that?”

 “I don’t know. I just…” I trailed off, unable to find a suitable argument. He could spend money on whatever and whomever he wanted. I should be grateful that he was choosing to spend it on me. However, the independent side of me always wanted to resist.

 “We’ve talked about this before. I’ve explained what it means to me to be a Dominant, even if you fight over every aspect of it. Please, allow me this much,” he said and placed a soft kiss on my lips.

 “About that,” I murmured against him.

 “What about it?” he asked and pulled back to look at me.

 I contemplated how I should broach the subject of his kinkiness without seeming like I was dwelling on past issues. I looked up into his sapphire eyes, so intense that it felt like he could see right through me. I couldn’t think when he looked at me that way, so I stood up and began pacing the kitchen.

 “Well, I was thinking about that night at Club O, at least the part before everything went bad.”

 “Yes,” he said cautiously.

 “I’ve been thinking about how far you’d like to take things. Don't get me wrong; things have been great between us. Perfect actually. But I feel like we have a lot of unfinished business there.”

 His blue eyes flashed as he narrowed his gaze on me. I stopped pacing and tried to get a read on what he was thinking. However, before I could explain further, I found myself pinned up against the wall with Justin’s hard torso pressed against mine.

 “You’re impossible. Do you know that?” he growled.

 “I don’t mean to –.”

 “Stop. Now,” he demanded.

 “This is important to me, Justin. I can’t just let it drop. You’ve done stuff with other women, a lot of stuff that I can’t even begin to imagine. I’m not very well versed on these sorts of things and I don’t know what to think about it. I don’t know what my limitations are.”

 “Kristina, listen to me. Yes, I have done things that many consider taboo in the past. I have been with countless women and have pushed their boundaries. I’ve shown them pain and I’ve given them pleasure, but never once did I give them a second thought afterwards. Now it’s all about you. I only want what you can give me. Nothing more. We have spent the majority of our time together talking about what was or what could be, but that isn’t going to happen anymore. Going forward, we will be living in the present.”

 “I won’t argue with that, but there are –.”

 “Have you enjoyed everything that we’ve done so far?”

 “Yes, of course,” I told him, taken aback that he might think otherwise.

 “Do you feel secure enough to use your safe word if needed?”

 “Yes, Justin. But, again, there is –.”

 “End of discussion,” he said, completely cutting me off for a third time.

 “You’re not being reasonable,” I pointed out.

 “Actually, I’m making perfect sense,” he said, his voice noticeably lowering an octave. He gripped my hair into a ponytail and gave it a slight tug. “You need to trust me. I’ve already sacrificed and given up so much of who I am for you, Selena. I won’t let you take this from me, too. Your body will always be mine to do with as I please. I will own it and you won’t question it.”

 The command in his voice sent a delicate shiver of delight down my spine. I looked into his eyes. They swirled with a dark primal need, but there was also a challenge in them. It was almost as if he were daring me to push back, like this was a test.

 He will own me. I am not allowed to question it. Can I do that?

 He tightened his grip on my hair and yanked a bit harder. Pulling my head back, he placed his mouth on the shell of my ear and grazed his teeth over the delicate skin. I shivered again when I felt the hardness of his erection that strained through his pants and pressed up against me. A familiar tingle began to form in my belly, rapidly intensifying until I was astoundingly aroused.

 “Tell me, Selena. Say you’ll fully submit to me. Give me the words that I need to hear,” he said gruffly as he tightened his hold.

 There was an edge to his voice that was an aphrodisiac to my senses. I found that I didn’t want to challenge him on this. I wanted Justin to take complete and total control over my body. I wanted to feel like that woman on the stage at Club O and let go of my inhibitions. She trusted her Dominant to take complete and total control of her body. Her Dom was her entire universe and nothing else mattered.

 I wanted to surrender myself to Justin, and not just in the physical sense. I had finally reached the point where I trusted him enough to give my full emotional surrender as well. He was just waiting for my consent.

 I looked deep into his eyes. I saw a yearning that I could no longer deny him of. This is what he needed.

 “I’m yours,” I said.

 A slow and satisfied smile spread over his features, before turning into something darker and full of promise.

 “I’m going to be hard on you, angel. You will be completely at my mercy. You don’t need to be concerned about my limits anymore. Tonight will be about learning your own. I won’t stop unless you use your safe word.”

 I closed my eyes and let his words wash over me.

 Will I enjoy what he does to me? Or will he push me too far?

 “What happens if I use my safe word?” I asked hesitantly.

 “Don’t sound as if that’s something you should be ashamed of. You have a safe word for a reason, and I will stop if it’s used. Repeat it to me so I know that you’ll call on it if needed.”

 “Sapphire.”

 “Good girl,” he appreciated. “Without that word, neither one of us will know how high we can go. You need to let go and trust yourself. But more importantly, you need to trust me. Now, go to the bedroom and take off your clothes. I want you kneeling on the floor in the submissive position.”

 He released his grip on my hair and took a step back. Without hesitation, I hurried to the bedroom, my heated pulse hammering through my veins.

 I was wildly aroused, almost to the point of being dizzy. Now that I had openly agreed, the idea of exploring was unexpectedly exhilarating. My little devil friend was back and he was rocking out to Madonna’s “Erotica” on my shoulder. I wanted to do this more than anything.

 As I quickly undressed, I began to wonder about the limits in which he would push me to. I was slightly apprehensive because I didn’t want to chicken out and disappoint him. However, I shook off the worry almost immediately. He had already shown me so many things that I never thought that I’d be open to. I felt confident that Justin was the master of giving both pain and pleasure. I might not know what my limits were, but I knew that he would find the balance.

 I had already assumed the proper position when he came into the room. He was shirtless and carrying two glasses of wine. He raked his eyes over me, and I saw the desire in them flash hot.

 He stepped up to me and placed a glass at my lips.

 “Drink,” he told me.

 I parted my lips so that he could tip some of the crisp white wine into my mouth. When he pulled the glass away, a small amount dribbled out of the corner of my mouth. I ran my tongue over my lips to catch it.

 He set the glasses on the dresser, and then turned back to grasp my chin in his hand. He tilted my face up towards his.

 “Do that again,” he told me.

 “Do what?”

 “Your tongue. Run your tongue over your lips and look into my eyes when you do it.” I felt somewhat foolish, but did as instructed. My eyes locked on his. The carnal need that I saw in them sent a rush of heat between my legs, as I slowly slid my tongue over my bottom lip.

 He groaned and pulled me to my feet.

 “God, what you fucking do to me,” he growled and crushed his mouth to mine.

 I moaned against his mouth, my body moving against his as the kiss deepened. Justin cupped the back of my neck with his hand and gripped firmly as he pressed his hard body along my entire length. My hand ran over the span of his broad chest, digging into the muscles as I searched for his sensitive nipples with my fingertips.

 He gave a sharp slap to my bare behind.

 “Slow, angel. You're too greedy.”

 He abandoned my lips, leaving a trail of fire down my neck. I tilted my head down and nipped at his ear. Satisfaction filled me when I sensed the shiver that ran through his body after my teeth dug into his lobe.

 Justin ran his hands up and down my sides, past my breasts without making any real contact. He was torturing me on purpose. I released a moan of frustration. I pressed my body to his, brushing my taut nipples against his chest. I needed to feel his hot skin against mine. I clung tight, trying to will him with my mind to quicken his pace, but he would have none of it.

 “Take off my pants, Selena. Slowly.”

 Moving back to my knees, I positioned myself in front of him. I could see his erection prominent beneath his pants. On impulse, I leaned forward and pressed my face against the bulge of material. He hissed in surprise and I smiled with satisfaction.

 He said slowly. Two can play at this game.

 Using my teeth, I deliberately bit down, exerting enough pressure to make him tremble. He hissed again and pulled away.

 “I said to take off my pants! I never gave another direction. You need to follow my instructions.”

 “My apologies,” I lied. I wasn’t sorry at all. I suppressed a grin, knowing that I’d likely be chastised again for being disobedient.

 I looked up at him only to find that his eyes were narrow with suspicion.

 “You’re a terrible liar. Get up.”

 “I thought you wanted me to take off –.”

 “Get up!”

 I scrambled to my feet at his command. He took hold of my arm and ushered me over to the corner of the bedroom. He grabbed the edge of the settee and spun it around.

 Oh, crap. The spanking horse.

 Before I could even process what was about to happen, I found myself bent over the horse, watching as Justin secured leather cuffs to my wrists. Locking me in place, he stood up and ran his hand lightly over the line of my jaw. He disappeared from my line of sight and I felt leather straps circle my ankles. Spreading my legs apart, he secured them to the posts on the bench.

 Stretched over the bench, with my ass high in the air, I was completely vulnerable. I tugged lightly at the restraints, but found that there was no give. I was rendered immobile and helpless to his whim.

 I could hear Justin moving about the room, but I couldn’t see what he was doing. I heard the jingling of keys, then a door opening and closing.

 The toy closet.

 Music suddenly filled my ears. It started off quiet, but Justin increased the volume until it was bordering on loud. The electric pulses from the music mixed with the singer’s soul searching lyrics reeked havoc on my senses and sent my desire into overdrive. It made me desperate for whatever it was he planned to do to me.

 The soft feel of leather trailed down the middle of my back. I immediately recognized it as the flogger. A chill raced down my spine in anticipation, wanting to feel the fiery sensation of the leather against my skin.

 Justin leaned down and whispered into my ear.

 “I’m going to mark your skin. And I mean it when I say that. It won’t be like the last time. I will raise welts that you will feel tomorrow and be reminded of how they got there,” he said in a husky voice. “Do you understand?”

 “I understand,” I told him and nodded my consent. For some strange reason, I had little concern over what he said he was going to do. A part of me knew that he only needed me to acknowledge the intensity of what was to come.

 His hand slid over my backside, massaging my cheeks before slipping down between my legs. I gasped when he came in contact with my opening. He slid his fingers around the rim, spreading the moisture over the folds to my tingling clit.

 “Oh, angel. I love that you’re always ready for me.”

 He pinched and held the pulsing nub between his fingers. I quivered with need, as the painful ache grew until I was desperate for release. I tried to push against him but was prevented by the restraints. I was right there, already so close to the threshold of amazing bliss.

 Just as the familiar build up began, he pulled his hand away.

 “Ah!” I cried out in frustration.

 “Not yet. I want you on edge while I flog you. I’m going to make you mindless. Your ass will burn. You’ll be begging for relief, desperate for the release that only I can give you. But even then, I won’t let you come,” he said. His hand slid over my backside and pushed against my puckered rear hole. “I won’t let you come until I’ve taken you in a place that no other man has been before.”

 I couldn’t even form a coherent response. His words were like silk in my ears, clouding the reality around me. His statement brought my arousal to a new height, the darkness of his promise an aphrodisiac like no other.

 I sucked in a sharp breath as a loud snap of leather jolted me back to awareness. It didn’t fall on my flesh, but was just made to let me know that the first blow was coming. I braced myself for the first lash of fire.

 CRACK!

 Pain blew over my skin like a rushing inferno and I jumped, unable to stop my reaction to the first blow. I waited for the next, knowing that the pain would eventually move to an incredible and pleasurable height. The second one came, but in a different place from the last. I breathed through the burn until it passed. On the third blow, a different kind of burn began to overtake me, one that pulsed and throbbed in my core.

 He continued to pepper my backside, one lash after another. After every other whip of the leather, he would reach down and massage by burning clit until I was wild with desperation. I craved the orgasm that was so near, and I didn’t think that I could take much more of his torment.

 “Justin, please!” I shamelessly begged.

 He didn’t give in, but stayed relentless with his assault.

 “You will not come until I let you,” he reminded me.

 He picked up his speed, each blow coming closer and harder than the last. Everything started to get hazy and a feeling of euphoria settled over me. It was as if time ceased to exist, and the only thing that mattered was holding onto the pleasure within the pain.

 All at once, he stopped. His palms glided softly over the curvature of my ass, a sharp contrast to the previous sensations.

 “Your ass is beautifully red from my marks. It looks fucking magnificent,” he murmured. His voice was thick and heavy with desire. I closed my eyes and tried to envision what he was seeing.

 He pressed a kiss to one cheek and then the other, the tender action almost worshipful as he spread them a part. I vaguely heard a click sound before being shocked by a cool liquid sliding down my crack. When he began to smear it over the entrance to my seam, probing against the tight hole, I was instantly ripped out of my clouded state and jolted back to reality.

 Lube.

 When he mentioned taking me where no man had ever been before, I thought that he was speaking metaphorically. I didn’t think that he would actually do it.

 “Justin, wait –.”

 “Shh. Trust yourself, Selena. You can do this.”

 Oh, yeah sure. I can do this. No sweat.

 I rolled my eyes, thinking that I just may be out of my damn mind. Tonight was supposed to be about finding my limits, and I was hard pressed to think of a truer test. I lay there, all but dangling helpless, very conflicted over whether or not I should use my safe word.

 The music changed to a more edgy tune, the female singer’s voice chillingly raw, as Justin continued to lubricate my backside. Every so often, he would reach through my tender folds to massage my swollen clit. I moaned every time he did it, as I was still dying for the release that I had been deprived of for what seemed like eons. His deft fingers moved up, over, and in, stretching and preparing me for his invasion.

 When I felt his erection press against me, I tensed.

 “Relax. If you don’t, this will hurt. I don’t want to hurt you, angel.”

 Moment of truth, Cole. Safe word or no safe word?

 He reached around under my belly and moved his fingers over my pulsing nub, exerting just enough pressure to get me closer to the edge that I so desperately wanted to fall over. Taking advantage of my distraction, he pushed himself forward, nudging against my tight ring. My body protested the slight penetration, but he persisted. I gasped when he finally broke through, the painful intrusion overriding any magic that he was working on my clit.

 “Breathe through it,” he instructed. “Don’t hold your breath. The pain will pass if you relax your body. Allow yourself to embrace the sensation.”

 I did what he told me to do and took a few deep breaths. Justin didn’t move, but ran his hands up and down my back to help relax me further. Eventually, the tension began to dissipate and he pushed forward once more. Inch by inch, he made his way in, stretching me impossibly wide.

 With one final thrust, he was all the way in. I cried out and tried to move away instinctively, but the bonds held me firmly in place. Justin stilled his body and waited for me to adjust to his massive girth, yet never once ceased the stroking motion of his fingers on my clit.

 “I’m going to move now, angel. Are you ready?”

 I was panting and gasping for breath, trying to absorb the foreign sensation that was both painful and pleasurable. It was an odd sort of feeling and I didn’t know which one out weighed the other.

 “I’m ready,” I whispered, trying to keep my body relaxed.

 He pulled back ever so slightly, and I was shocked to discover that I wanted him to stay put. It was as if his backwards motion left a vacancy that I needed to have filled. Just as I was about to moan a complaint, Justin thrust forward once again.

 “Fuck, Selena,” he said in a rasping tone. “You’re sucking me in like a greedy fist.”

 A dark and edgy sensation began to creep through my veins, propelling me back into the state of euphoria that I was in before as he continued to drive forward. Deep and hard, he savagely thrust into me. He said that he was going to go hard and that he would show me no mercy. He promised to push me to my limits, and that’s exactly what he was doing. Justin was showing me what it meant to be truly dominated.

 This was a demonstration of his power – forceful and utterly alpha. I was helpless to his every desire, yet I relished the vulnerable state that he put me in. He was giving me a taste of his complete domination, and I was like an addict. I would never get enough of his power and control. It would forever be like a drug, calling to the deepest and darkest parts of my soul.

 I was close to the breaking point, my orgasm just within my reach. The room began to blur around me. I wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

 “Justin, I’m too close!” I cried out.

 He slowed his pace and leaned down so that his torso was pressed against my back. He smoothed away the hair that had fallen over my face.

 “I want you to come, angel. You’ve earned it.”

 Returning to a standing position, he reared back before slamming into me. He brought his hand back to my clit, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingers. Over and over again, he pumped his hips forward, the power of his possession overwhelming. But just as I thought it would be too much, pleasure rocketed through me, up and over until it exploded like a firework. I shook uncontrollably, buzzing from a high that I had never before experienced.