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kandygrlsworld · 1 year ago

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This reading scared the fucking shit out of me

PILE 1

I was bored the Jan 12 2023 getting ready for school. I usually just listen to to tarot for entertainment and I usually get extremely accurate answers that in extremely resonate with

On the channel esotarot (always accurate) and roseology which both tell me what I need to hear and I have been able to work on myself and internal conflicts and low self esteem because of it. I’ve been able to heal because of them and I am so grateful I found these two channel cause they help and resonate so much

Anyways that day I was like whatever I don’t really care about my inner child has to say IMM just put this on as backup noise as I get ready for school

First of all I already was scared cause I picked the crystal that was pitch black and sparkly and dark then the first thing she said I that my inner child felt suffocated and was judged for everything she Identified and resonated/connected with and that she wanted to run away and grow up fast to get out of my conservative high expectation ass family and turning away from my family’s plan was just like insane

Which off the fucking bat I resonated with but I didn’t want I guess because it talked about running away at a young age which I want to do currently and have learned low key been planning it because of those reasons mentioned and switched to a different deck but that one didn’t resonated at all so then I went back the the first one I picked

Then the FIRST FUCKING CARD pulled was THE DEVIL. At this point I was scared as fuck like I always when I try to look at quizzes or personality or things that will reveal who I am they show the most dark almost devilish just dark energy. And I just remember being like “why do I always get the dark spooky shit???” Because when I was a child I resonated with those things naturally but was extremely rejected by my family for it and created @candygrlsworld that persona because it was still me just a part of me people accepted more where as this persona @kandygrlsworld is who I was from the beginning the me that was rejected that my inner child wants to see me be again

Anyways the other shock was the FIRST thing said about that devil card was that I come from a bloodline of witches. And intuitively I feel this is my Puerto Rican side because I know I FOR SURE have brujas in my family on that side. It may be my black side but I do not resonate with hudo for some reason I feel it is because I am Afro Latina idk I just in my gut I feel that.

Then even more strangely and specifically enough they said my inenr child/me always loved supernatural things growing up outcast type characters (the villan characters) and also the main big one I love horror movies and as a child I thought I was weird because the scary spooky dark things like Halloween and Jason, chucky michael or monsters under the bed or ghosts never scared me (I ever this very clearly) my dad was OBSESSED with Halloween. (And true from which I did not like because it involved hurting people, i am very empathetic as wel) but yea I thought it wa because of Miesha and him liked those things but no. I was never scared of the body man. In fact I liked those things and was intrigued by them and I removed I used to just always laugh at the things that usually made others kids uncomfortable or scared another things I have always been DRAWN to witch craft (I’ve tried several times to do it) and weirdly I’m JUST NOW getting this memory and Kelis was like “you’ve always liked witch stuff” and I looked at her like this because I didn’t want to accept that part of me🤨 ( I

Also another memory popping up. I remember I was watching a eso tarot reading last month and it said accept and be both parts of yourself the dark and the light don’t only praise the light side. Which I though don’t only focus on your positive personality traits (being loving sweet and caring) also accept and be (don’t push down and suppress) the negative toxic traits I have (selfish materialistic lustful hot headed cocky etc.) which I think it did mean that but I think it literally meant this dark part of myself I’ve hidden that is me. And that’s why in that same reason don’t think of those parts as aesthetics. I think that’s why I got this message on Jan 12 2023 because it was clarifying that messages yes it was talking about toxic behaviors but it was also talking about who I am, my interests the things I connect to etc.

Anyways back to the point I had also got in a total DIFFERENT reading that I come from a bloodline of witches before but I ignored it cause I was scared and didn’t want to be associated with that.

Which is interesting because they are saying this witch that is in my blood line was “vilified” for being a witch. And me being born was a way for my ancestors to finally be free enough to finally express themselves and their gifts and their voice thru me. Because they were the black sheep of their community and family, because of what they believed in and connected and it was done I secret. And the same thing happened with me. And that some of my family members now have gifts (which is true my mom burns incense my aunt has visions in her dream and my mom is very connected of the dead)

And she said I have always been drawn to withes supernatural fake spooky things that make people scared or uncomfortable and liking the villains of the story not cause I’m evil and relate to them but because I’m not intimidated by it I want to learn more about intrigued and I respect them like hey that’s what they believe etc. connected to these gifts from a young. I was scared of it myself and my family had those things seem evil and believe in gin them makes me a bad person so I literally suppressed it for so long because I’ve had to be @candygrlsworld for so long to get to be accepted into society

And in middle school I kept telling my self and others “be yourself” and “love everyone (not matter how different they are form u)” and to like duality (light and dark) and up until yesterday it was weird because I had no idea where those messages came from I wasn’t mimicking anyone my parents sure as hell didn’t tell me that etc. and it just came from within. Those ideas were beat down. But I think it was my ancestors talking to me and thru me

People saying my gifts are evil is basically saying My left arm is evil like it’s a part of me

Also because my ancestors were also “outcasted” idk if that’s the right word. For their beliefs a lot of what they wanted to say is now coming thru me.

This is why my inner child is hurt cause she was never able to be herself. She doesn’t like commitment she likes change

Heart chakra and sacral chakra

#Youtube #bruja diaries

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krs724490 · 20 days ago

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11.4.2024

I think I've written more on this since the breakup than I have in years. so much to say.

I had a nightmare last night. I was attending some gala for the camp graham worked at. or maybe it was for RMP. but he showed up with catalina. and he had grown out his hair into a big afro and he had a scruffy beard. he looked like he gained weight and was not doing well. they were a super trashy couple. they had bad manners and everyone didn't like them. and he didnt care about me at all. he largely ignored me. and there was also an emphasis on food. a giant buffet and also a bunch of pre-made containers of different types of pasta. as soon as I woke up and realized it was a dream, the thought repetition was "it was a dream, it was a dream." and I felt a giant sense of relief. yesterday people mentioned catalina island not once but twice. one woman mentioned it in the morning and I wouldve forgotten about it but then lucas brought it up again later when we were vision board making. insane the way that lingers. if I were really reading into the signs of the universe, I would take that as a sign to back down. I also pulled tarot about it and got horrible cards that would also entice me to not have this convo with graham tomorrow. the universe signs seem very doomsday. no hope. I still dont know if I believe in tarot and signs. Sometimes I just throw the tarot out the door and I dont quite understand it. I could even interpret it like the tarot is trying to get me to realize my fear. the way that I lean on the universe to make it all right. really the universe doesn't comfort. the universe just is.

the other thing that happened that also seems shocking and impossible was that I went to hannas class this morning at high ride and she played somebody else by the 1975 as her final hill. the one song ive been avoiding bc I thought it would be too painful to listen to. I considered leaving, I dont have to subject myself to this, I thought. but then I tuned into my body and realized that it was a story that was causing the anguish. my body was just, in a spin class. and I could hold the multiplicity of emotions. how I should be feeling a certain sort of way when this song comes on. but part of me couldnt picture graham with anyone else. and then I didn't really care. I couldnt force myself to hear the song and feel the feelings. it just didn't happen. the lack of emotion made me wonder. none of it made sense. none of it. and it was almost laughable. how I was forcing myself to feel feelings I didn't have. so odd

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orionsstory · 1 year ago

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New York Nights (3) (Rosénali)

A/N: exposition chapter who cheered !!! this one is basically just worldbuilding. ngl its crazy to see how my writing has changed in just a year originally published: Jan. 31, 2022 ----- Chapter Three: Back to Work --

The week following her nightmare, Denali didn't go out much. Jackie made sure of that. Hell, it took 3 days for her to let Denali go to the rink. Thankfully, Jan pulled through and distracted Jackie so Denali could teach her skating lessons. "Denali...I'm just worried." Jackie told her, "You were shaken up after your nightmare, are you sure you can't just cancel the lesson?" After much back and forth, Jackie obliged and Denali headed to work. Her day went well, and she felt more at ease after the nightmare. However, that didn't mean Jackie was eager to let her go patrolling again.

"Oh come on Jackie! I'm fine! See?" Denali whines, producing a snow cloud from her hand. "No snow in the house, 'Nali!" Jackie swatted the snow away, "But what happens if something happens to you? What if you feel okay at first but then you freak out? You're my best friend. I can't stand to see you get injured." Jackie placed a hand on her friend, the worry showing on her face. Denali laughed, "I'll just call Tina to save me. Well, she'd probably just drop me. I'm getting more popular than her." Jackie tried to hide her laughter, but she failed and burst out in laughter. "See? I'm okay, really Jackie! I'll even come home earlier tonight if you want me to!" Jackie sighed, "No, it's no use. If you say you're ready, then you are. But be careful!" Denali eagerly nodded, bounding off to go get her costume. "Denali! It's only 6 pm! You can't go out yet!" Jackie called after her.

After 3 more painstaking hours of waiting, 9 finally hit, and Denali couldn't be out the door faster. Jackie had to run to keep up with her! "Just remember..." Jackie huffed out, trying to catch her breath. "Yes, yes 'Be safe, Denali!' 'Don't die, Denali!' I get it, Mom!" Denali shoved her jacket into Jackie's hands and put her mask on. Eagerly, she ran towards the ledge and waved goodbye to Jackie as she leaped off the ledge, into the sky. She flew around the buildings, laughing and cheering as she glided past windows and clouds. She felt energetic and free- like she could do anything! Maybe she'd even kick Rosé's ass if she was lucky.

After several minutes of flying, Denali ran into a familiar woman dressed in red, orange, and yellow. "Hi, Tina!" She chirped. "Ice Queen," Tina smirked, "you look chipper today. It's nice to see you out again!" Tina Burner, a superhero who couldn't have hidden her identity if she wanted to. Her vibrant red hair and love of red, orange, and yellow made her well-known wherever she went. Her powers stemmed from, big shocker, fire manipulation- meaning she was Denali's worst enemy in theory. In actuality, Denali really enjoyed working with Tina. "Hey, I was going to city hall to help a newbie register- wanna help me out? I'll need someone with me so I don't go insane." Normally, Denali would have refused. She remembered what registering was like, and was not a massive fan of the process. However, this was not a normal day, and thus she and Tina Burner were headed to city hall.

The two soon arrived, exchanging small greetings with the secretary as she opened the door behind her desk for them. "She's in there," she addressed Tina, "She's filled out everything we need from her, now it's just your turn." Tina gave the woman thanks as they headed through the door and into one of the side rooms. "Hi there," Tina greeted, "I'm Tina Burner, and this is Ice Queen! We're here to help you out with your hero stuff." The girl turned around. Denali looked her over, she had a curly, light orange afro and doe-like blue eyes. She was dressed in a pastel blue leotard, with matching gloves that nearly went up to her shoulders and thigh-high boots of the same color. She wore a simple mask that covered her eyes. She looked like she was younger than Denali, maybe even a college freshman.

"Oh, hi!" she chirped. "Okay, so you've already filled out all the information the government needs, right? Do you have any questions about that?" Tina asked the girl. "Oh, well uh...about all that, how does that really work? I mean, I wanna keep my identity a secret, but I also want to be officially recognized as a hero...uhm," she stuttered. "Ah, you're asking whether or not they're gonna out your information, right?" the shorter girl nodded, "Well, it works in two different ways. For me, my hero identity is public- my hero name is my real name, and it's not a secret that I'm a hero. So, they just have my information on record in the system." She nodded along, hanging onto Tina's every word. "For someone like you or Ice Queen," she gestured to Denali, "your personal information goes under lockdown, which means only certain trusted individuals can even access the information, and most of the time they don't need it. Unless you need your costume made or changed...do you?" She shook her head no. "Perfect!" Tina smiled at her.

"So, the next order of business is filling out this." Tina pointed to the piece of paper the girl was holding. "First and easiest, what name have you chosen to go by? This will be how people recognize and identify you, so think carefully. You don't want to regret it later on!" Denali rolled her eyes as Tina glanced back at her, "My name is fine, Tina. I think it sounds regal!" The two laughed as the young hero pondered momentarily, "Lux." She finally said, "That'll be my name!" Lux smiled, and Tina nodded approvingly. "Alright then Lux, next you just need to fill out what your powers do, and then you should be registered in a day or so!" Lux grinned, excitement was practically oozing out of her. "Say, what are your powers?" Denali asked her, pushing herself to sit on the nearby desk."Oh, I can control light! Watch!" Holding up her hand, in a swift motion, all the light was pulled from the room. Lux had morphed it into a ball in the palm of her hand, throwing it up and down, and then with a flourish of her wrist, the ball broke apart and the light returned to the room. Denali exhaled a wow, as Tina nodded, "Impressive!" Lux beamed again, and Denali noticed how bright her smile was. "With how much light is in New York, you're gonna be a force to be reckoned with, kid." Denali complimented her.

And so, with all of the paperwork wrapped up, Denali bid Tina and Lux goodbye as she kicked off into the air. The ordeal had only taken about an hour and a half, which meant she still had time to do other things. Resuming her patrol, her mind wandered back to Rosé- the pink-haired woman had been on her mind a lot these days. Denali hates how charismatic the other woman is, it makes it impossible for her to hate her. She scolds herself, she shouldn't think of a villain this way! Rosé has probably committed countless crimes, Denali can't go easy on her just because she's charismatic! She massaged her temples as she tried to shake the other woman out of her head, determined to not let Rosé interrupt her work. Thankfully (or not), a scream from below interrupted her thoughts.

Denali touched down on the ground in seconds and whipped her eyes around before settling on the commotion. A woman was trying to separate herself from a man clinging to her. Denali marched over and pulled the two off each other, stepping in between them. "What's the problem here?" She asked the woman, who looked like she had been crying. "My ex-husband ambushed me on my way home!" she choked out, "He said he was going to hurt me!" Denali looked at the man, who was clearly intoxicated. "Give me one second, ma'am." She told her, turning to the man she froze his feet in ice, preventing him from moving. Quickly searching him, she found a knife, which she confiscated from him. Denali turned back to the scared woman, "I'm going to call the police to come to get him, and after that, I can personally escort you home." she tried her best to comfort the woman, who nodded and sniffled.

It didn't take long for the police to arrive and take the man away. Denali explained the situation to the officers before handing them the knife she had found on him. "She'll need to drop by the police station tomorrow to make a statement, will you tell her that?" The officer asked her, "Of course." she nodded. Soon, the officers left with the man in tow. "You said you live 10 minutes away, correct?" the woman, now much calmer, nodded. "Okay, here, I'll just fly you back, it'll be quicker." Denali lifted the woman into a bridal carry and took off into the sky. The woman gasped, enthralled by what was happening around her, and Denali smiled a little, it reminded her of how she felt the first time she flew. Soon enough, they landed at the woman's apartment complex. She led Denali up to her apartment, where Denali repeated what the officer told her and left her with other helpful information, such as where to get a restraining order. She nodded, profusely thanking her for saving her. "What's your name?" she had asked her. "Oh, I'm Ice Queen." The woman nodded, "Well, thank you Ice Queen. I'm truly grateful." Denali smiled, "It's really no problem ma'am!"

Denali left soon after, kicking off once more into the sky, looking for some action. Still as energized as ever, she eagerly looked around for something to do. It took about 20 minutes, but eventually, she (literally) ran into another hero she recognized, a black woman with a signature white and teal swirled jumpsuit- Peppermint. "Watch out! Oh, Ice Queen!" Peppermint warmly greeted, "How are you? It's been a while!" Denali steadied herself in the air, holding onto Peppermint for support. "Yeah, sorry about that...I took off for a bit because of an injury. It's nice to see you again, Pep! How've you been?" The other woman sighed and ran a hand through her poofy brown hair, "Well, could be better. I've been kicking ass all night, and now I've got another one." Denali laughed, "Are you kidding? That sounds awesome. I wish I knew how you found so much work, I'm lucky if I find 2-3 things to do per night!" Peppermint stared at her, confused. "Do you not have the earpiece?"

"What? What earpiece?"

"The one connected to police scanners. It sends out reports of where crime is happening based on your locations, you can radio in that you're going to check it out, or if you need backup."

Denali went silent, "I'll take that as a no. I can get you one after this. Here, come help me with this, it shouldn't take long!" Peppermint tugged her along, and the two were flying through the city as Peppermint gave her a rundown of the situation. "Apparently someone's causing a ruckus over by the harbor, we don't know if it's a villain or not, but they want us to check it out just in case." Denali nodded, "Sounds fun. Maybe it'll just be a cat." Denali laughed. "I wish. That'd be easy! Here, it's down on the left, follow my lead!"

Peppermint touched down on the ground first, Denali following behind shortly. "Fan out and scan the area and yell if you see anything. This place is pretty big." Peppermint whispered to her. Denali nodded in response before heading left. She looked around- rows and rows of boxes stacked taller than she thought safe. 'Someone's probably after something in one of these...several boxes.' she thought, quietly walking the rows. It felt almost like a maze, the dark sky, and the nearby lampposts just barely allowing her to see what was in front of her. She crept quietly through the dark, hand brushing against the boxes to help guide her. She felt goosebumps creep up her skin, the silence and the darkness made her feel uneasy. She didn't know how long she had been walking the area, she couldn't see anything disturbed or moved. "I hope Peppermint is having more luck..." she whispered under her breath.

After 35 minutes with nothing amiss insight, Denali concluded her area was clear. She started trying to find Peppermint, wandering the rows and rows of boxes traveling farther right. The entire place was silent, the only noise she heard was her heartbeat. Suddenly, the silence was broken by Peppermint's whistle piercing the air. Denali sprang into the air, searching for a glimpse of Peppermint or someone else. Luckily, it didn't take long. She heard the sounds of fighting off to the right and flew over toward the commotion. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a glimpse of Peppermint's ice breath and dived towards it.

She touched down, two men were fighting Peppermint, with a third frozen in the background. "Ice Queen!" Peppermint jumped back, "There's a fourth who took off with some item, go find him! I can take these two! He went to the left, go!" Peppermint dodged as one of the men threw a punch. "Got it!" Denali yelled, once more flying into the air and heading towards the left. It didn't take her long to spot a man running towards the edge of the docks. Denali dropped down in front of him, sending a blast of ice toward him. He sped out of the way, hitting Denali as he sped past.

"Superspeed..." she groaned, quickly jumping to her feet and sliding after the man. She coated the ground with ice, skating along as she caught up with the man. She saw him preparing to run, so she stomped her foot in an attempt to stop him. As soon as her boot hit, ice sprung up all around her, vastly climbing and encasing the man in a cold tomb. "Oh thank god, that took less time than I thought it would." She sighed, "Sorry. That may have been a bit overkill." She apologized to the man, whose ice prison reached higher than the boxes around him.

After she had chipped away some of the ice around him, she carefully took the item from his hand. Examining it, it was a small beat-up-looking hard drive, it had no labels on it, nothing to indicate what was inside. 'Weird' she thought to herself, tucking it into her pocket for safekeeping. In the distance, she heard the sounds of police sirens approaching, Peppermint or someone nearby must have called them. After making sure the man was secure, she made her way back to where she had seen the other woman earlier. Rounding a corner, she spotted her tying the other three men up.

"I see you don't need any help!" Denali laughed, Peppermint turning her head towards her. "Did you find anything on him? Denali held up the hard drive in response, and Peppermint smiled. "Nice!" she walked over and examined the device. "There doesn't seem to be any identifying features as to what it could be," Denali explained, "what do you think?" Peppermint turned the drive over in her hand once more, "Hmm...I'm not sure. Best to leave it to the police, if they find anything important we need to know about, they'll contact us." Denali nodded.

The two handed over the hard drive to the police and helped the officers load the men into the police car. "Thank you, ladies," the officer shook their hands, "we really appreciate your help. If we find anything, we'll let you know. Have a safe night!" and with that, she waved to the two as she and the rest of the police left. "So...let's go get you that earpiece!" Peppermint chirped as she took Denali's hand, and once again led her to somewhere in the city.

Denali returned home around 1 am with a new earpiece. She opened the door, only to be scared by Jackie immediately as she entered. "Oh my god, Jackie!" she breathed out as Jackie shoved her inside, "You scared me!" Jackie took her mask and examined her face, before breathing a sigh of relief. "See! I told you I'd be okay! You don't have anything to worry about!" Denali laughed, a small smile creeping onto Jackie's face. "Okay, maybe I was a little overdramatic. I'm happy you're okay. You should get some rest, don't forget you still have a degree to earn!" Jackie turned towards her bedroom before stopping, "Oh! That reminds me, actually, Jan and her sisters have a show this weekend- do you wanna go with me?"

Denali didn't even hesitate, "Sure!" she chirped. Jackie gave her a big smile before disappearing to her room. Turning off the living room lights, Denali headed towards the bathroom and began getting ready for bed. She thought about the show as she brushed her teeth, she was excited to see Jan and meet Lagoona, even if it meant she had to deal with Rosé for longer than she'd like. Going to bed, she felt a lot better and safer than she had earlier in the week. It felt nice to be back out and helping people, and as she fell asleep, she felt confident in her powers again.

#denali foxx #drag race #rpdr #jackie cox #jan sport #new york nights #rpdr fanfiction #rupauls drag race #rosé #rosenali #rosénali #rpdr s13 #no beta we die like men #i cant believe this was a year ago oh my god #im so tempted to rewrite this story #olivia lux #peppermint #tina burner

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yaasalaholing · 2 years ago

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this cap gave me confidence

by Pippa Akofa UGWUMADU

why?

because I’m black.

years of empowerment.

i live this lonely life

sad and low eyes

who’s going to hold

“I’m a woman”

not a girl

a part of me won’t wake up

would I be so low to shoot you in the back

like u wasn’t looking

you’d see my gut explode from the tension of holding back tears

time has it’s way of forgetting

holding back inaudible words,

language, lyric and harm

as prickled eyes hold in

would you be the first to break my heart

Thursday 20th April 2023

Left the care home unprepared.

Firstly, socks, bare foot @ my mother’s house.

An Afro wig, thinking of my braids.

Glass cup, green tea.

Should i be ditzy

Should i be mellow

Should i be chill

Should I admit that I’m hollow

Waiting to be filled with love

I be, I be, I believed in to tomorrow

I never saw the sun come up

I can’t be myself

I don’t like myself

Should I accept

Should I give up

I have to be myself

I have to think for myself

Do I appreciate her?

Do I treat her with respect?

Hip hop

I was the cat

Sitting in the back of an Escalade

Watching two friends

Pass the joint

After robbing a merchandise store

je deteste ca parfois

parfois

I’m a know it all

I know it all

But I’m not all knowing

you know this empty space

is meant to be filled with thoughts of a man

don’t want u to say anything

Don’t want to hear what you think

If.

A bungalow

Room for self care and singing bowls

Before shower

Meditate

Yoga

Meditate

books. Poems to start off.

Always go outside when you feel bad energy occur.

or mastrubate.

CASH always on hand.

We broke up

And I’m still not free.

no new words

just sweet plantain chips

I smoked too much

growing

I made static in the air

Swivel, Yankee hat symbol approached me,

Ooo what did he say?

Sun rays peep the bus window

never had the spotlight on me,

not in those days

moon kingdom

I’m rising, I’m rising

I’m rising

Im torn at night

Faint in day

and I’m rising

See nothing but black

A rug over eyes

Im all hours of the seconds away

And awake

blue jungle

u gotta little patch on your light

anatomy shedding pieces

not quite as gone as

A sane world

Outside

Of me

Insane

I don’t smile,

It’s been a long time since genuine

but it’s ‘m light

jungle rain

maybe bedhead mess and wisps of fake bountiful hair all over the floor, my blue jungle paint placed in the second I woke up

without a man

a woman, not a girl.

4 you

Our days are over

Left on hold

Knowingly covered

The whispers. I heard

Old rasp voice love

My heart sank into a tumour

As land fit the river

So I rang

Lemon haze

Why not chalk all over the floor?

Why does graffiti have to be on brick walls?

Why can we not walk on the sky?

Why can’t I walk on water

If Jesus walked on water then why can’t I?

Why is the window not the front door?

Why can’t I lie on my ceiling?

Why can’t I grow wings

and fly Paris free of charge in the evenings?

These questions I want to ask

Good, most powerful, most high God.

says

the butterfly

I want to be a bird

I can’t see

The butterfly can’t see

Flies

Hong Kong’s busy streets

Amidst the noise of the city

Beauty was sweet

When all I have to do is eat

I can’t see

But feel the energy

Of Hong Kong’s busy streets

when the argument started

Fire crackled

When the argument started

Fire sprung

Sparks made up for this argument

The ash and light, soft and spark

Joined air’s tone

whistling together “home”

Taking nudes

The smallest bathroom

With a broken mirror

In a screen

That seemed clearer

Never seen, me from this angle

Never captured who it was for

Never seen me naked,

Small chest, big eyed whore,

Skinny legs

A body no one ever sought,

Behind the internet,

Could he even see it was me

I hid my face

Wrapped my arms around my breasts

Like a haiku, or a Shakespearean soliloquy

Spoke to me

Goodbye lady

Hello dumb and free

I wake up tomorrow morning

Belly flat

Belly finally flat

Fat ass

And a straight back

from a hunchback

Drowning

Ain’t no mystery

But I’m foreign to his tongue

The way he wears his slang

When he approached my realm

I should’ve ran

When he became my four walls

With no door

On my back

There was only the floor

Lips bruised

From kissing wild

Breath broke

Legs shake

Hands taunt

Moan, moan

Taste

Run, run

Run away and don’t come back.

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west-tokyo-incidents · 2 years ago

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Ugh okay, more Fussa/Paresse because werewolf and t4t brainrot have collided.

---

Paresse has seen a lot of things. He used to be a robot from the future, for fuck’s sake. He'd time traveled. He'd seen two world wars. Fought in a secret war of his own. Had the ability to command trees to his will, served as a subordinate under someone literally designed to be a supervillain.

... but really? Werewolves??

His now-human heart was going a mile a minute as the deep snarls continued. Rage was between him and... Fussa. That creature was Fussa. He swallowed and took a slow step back as Rage carefully worked to de-escalate the black wolf. Vivid gold eyes snapped to him as the movement snapped something underfoot. He froze again.

"It's Paresse, Fussa... you know him. Look at me, Fussa. Calm down." Rage glanced towards Paresse, and quickly added, "Don't make eye contact."

Paresse rapidly snapped his gaze away, and the snarling softened. Rage got Fussa's attention again and before too long, she had calmed almost completely.

Rage gave out a long sigh, then turned to Paresse, keeping one hand on Fussa's pelt, "What the fuck are you doing here?" He tried to keep the angry snap out of his voice, well aware that Fussa picked up on his emotions was too easily like this.

Paresse shifted his weight, "I was curious where you guys had gone. I'm sorry for startling her." He kept his eyes down.

"So you followed us, alone, into the woods? Doesn't sound like you." Rage flicked his eyes to Fussa as she sniffed the air towards Paresse, inching closer.

"Never said I did it alone..." Paresse mumbled.

The corner of Rage's mouth twitched, "Of course you didn't. Kneel down, she wants to sniff you. Just... look small. And if she lunges, cover your face."

Paresse let out a slow breath and did as he was told. That last statement hung heavy. With both he and Rage now human, no amount of calm talking would stop Fussa from killing him then and there if she so pleased. This form of hers was massive, easily taller than him if she stood up on her back legs. As the wolf's nose shoved up against his shoulder, he figured it was his own goddamn fault anyways.

Well, his and one other person's fault. He glared off to his right where, somewhere, Mizho was hiding.

Fussa growled low, and Paresse tensed up... only to realize that growl was his name. He looked up and met her eyes. He hesitated, "Yeah... hey, Fussa..."

Rage heaved a sigh... and then promptly walked up to Paresse and yanked him by his sleeve, "Where the fuck is Mizho?? I'm going to beat her fucking senseless--"

Mizho's voice came from above, in one of the trees, "Up here."

"Are you fucking insane??" Rage turned his anger then upon Mizho, his fury redirected entirely.

The wolf started to pace around him. He held his hand out and she sniffed at it, repeating his name before shoving her head under his hand. With the other two arguing in the background, Paresse occupied himself with trying to make sense of Fussa's new form.

Her face was something between a human and a wolf; teeth just on the terrifying side of too big for her mouth, but enough of a snout to make it not look goofy. Her afro was now a massive mane of black fur around her head, down her back, and on her chest. The rest of her was covered in shorter, also black fur. Her back legs were almost completely wolfish, and had a fully formed tail, but her arms still had full human motion and ended in clawed hands, rather than paws.

Soon, Mizho came down from her perch and Rage made sure Fussa wasn't going to attack her, either. Paresse finally tuned in to their conversation.

"How the fuck do you expect me to explain that my master is a werewolf along with all of the other stupid shit we've had to deal with? Of course neither of us told you."

"How long as she been like this?"

Rage rubbed his temples, "Since before Dunstan gave me to her."

"...wait, so when we went back in time--"

"Yep. On full moons we snuck out before sundown and were back in time for drills. Usually I'd be keeping an eye out for, well, shit like this." Rage motioned vaguely towards the two of them, "It's been harder with the whole human thing, though. I'm glad it was you two, though. Anyone else and she probably would've killed first and asked questions later."

"... can she understand us?" Paresse looked up, curious.

Rage nodded, then made a face, "Well, kind of. Her brain mostly functions on instinct like this, full throttle fight or flight. Everything else takes a back seat. It usually takes her a minute or so to process more complex stuff, like words. Longer to form them and actually speak back... watch this." He tilted his head and chuckled. Paresse had taken to scratching right behind Fussa's jaw, and she was leaning into it full bodied. "You're no better than a lapdog."

Fussa's eyes opened just a smidge and narrowed, head tilting in his direction for a few seconds... before she growled and let out an indignant 'wuff'.

"Or she just won't talk at all, I see how it is." Rage leaned against a tree, "You two should head back. She's not gonna be content like this for long and if she decides either of you would make a good chew toy like this, the rest of her brain might not catch up in time."

"Ah."

---

Fussa watched them go and got up to follow. That's what you do when the pack is on the move, after all! But Rage spoke and she paused, looking at him. She tilted her head to the side slowly, processing the words... oh, they're going home. Home is bad while she's like this. But... she turned back and whined softly at the two leaving. The one that smelled nice, Paresse, waved and said something. They would see her later. But she wanted them here. Now. The pack hunts together! She shifted her face, tightening the muscles in her throat, trying to form the words she wanted.

"Stay. Hunt!" She ran a hand over her mouth. "T" sounds felt funny to make. Rage said something. Implied she wanted to hunt them. She growled at him and shook her head, "No...!! Pack hunt... together!" There! She snorted at him. She knew who they were, she wouldn't hurt them. She wanted to spend time with them.

Paresse started walking back. Her ears pricked up! Yes, she got them to stay? Paresse's hand came and rubbed her head again, scratching at the itch behind her ear. He said something. She paused. He said he wasn't like her, couldn't hunt.

Well, she could fix that.

Her teeth flashed and her mouth filled with blood.

#ress writes #west tokyo incidents #kdu paresse #kdu fussa #kdu rage #kdu mizho

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thosewickedlovelies · 4 years ago

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Be the Girl You Wish to Meet in the Bar Bathroom

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x F!Reader

Summary: You make a new friend in the bar bathroom. She and her friends help you lure in the hottie she spots checking you out ;)

Rating: T for suggestive themes

Tags: Brief mention/implications of alcohol use.

Word Count: 3,359

A/N: This one goes out to all the drunk girls you've ever met and been uplifted by in bar bathrooms <3 Also for @nathan-bateman ❤

---

“Ugh, my feet are killing me,” your new friend groans as she lowers herself onto the toilet. “This always happens when my friends make me dance with them.” Still seated, she bends over to rub what she can reach of her heel.

Despite the thumping music and the din of bar conversation in the background, you can hear her perfectly fine, seeing as you’re sealed in the tiny bathroom together. You met her a moment ago in line, after you almost stumbled into her and she immediately proceeded to compliment your dress. Now you’re chatting like longtime pals.

A universal feminine experience, a distant part of your mind thinks, with a fuzzy sense of warmth.

“Yeah but you’re so lucky though,” you tell her earnestly, while washing your hands. “My boys hardly ever dance with me, they’re soo lame.” You make an exaggerated pouty face.

You only ever went out with your boys- Frankie, Will, Benny, and Santiago. You had other friends at work, but weren’t quite at the “let’s go out dancing together” stage with any of them yet. Benny and Santi actually did dance, but while you loved them to pieces, it wasn’t quite the same.

Tonight you had reunited at one of your usual spots- a basement bar that was a bit on the divey side, but just trendy enough to have designated space for a dance floor.

��Oh my gosh, you should totally come dance with me and my friends! Every girl needs a girl friend group to dance with.” She looks at looks at you with wide, serious eyes and all the sage certainty of a perfectly tipsy person.

“Oh my gosh, that’s so nice!” You’re genuinely touched at her invitation. “And so true,” you add a beat later, nodding with conviction. You shift away from the sink as she flushes the toilet.

“Yeah!” The brown-haired woman continues to rave about her friends while she washes her hands. “Ready?”

Arm in arm, you leave the bathroom together. You halt almost immediately, however, as the colored lights of the dance floor change abruptly, blinding you with white strobes. You both shriek and giggle as you throw your hands up in defense. You decide to remain where you are while you try to locate her friends.

She spies something else first. “Oooh, don’t look, but there is an absolute Adonis of a man checking you out right now at one of the tables.”

You don’t look, keeping your intrigue under wraps as you continue to scan the room. “Ooh, what does he look like?”

Santiago Garcia had been keeping an eye on the restrooms waiting for you to return, but his relief at your reappearance turns to curiosity as you exit with a woman he’s never seen before. His interest in her fades quickly, though, as the sweeping lights highlight your grinning face and that close-fitting dress. Everything else seems to fade to his peripheries.

He doesn’t know what it is, but he’s captivated by you tonight. Maybe it’s that you haven’t seen as much of each other lately, everyone busy with work and life. He thought he’d been elated at the prospect of a group get-together this evening, but when he kept finding himself frustrated at the guys stealing your attention from him, he wondered if it was just you he’d been excited to see.

Maybe it’s the fact that he can see every man in a ten-foot radius of you right now doing the same thing he is: checking you out. Sizing you up like nothing more than a trophy to add to their collection, as if any of them were good enough for you.

His fingers tighten around his beer as Santiago drags a dark gaze down you. Thinking of all the memories he has associated with you, all the things he’s seen your body do- a connection none of these other suckers can claim. In his brooding, he doesn’t notice the woman beside you noticing him.

“There they are!” Brown Hair squeals. She drags you around the edge of the dance floor to where several people are waving.

There’s a flurry of introduction, but you don’t catch any of their names over the music. A tall woman with noticeably muscled arms; another with deep brown skin and a halo of dense, tiny, blue-dyed curls; a third whose accented greeting you’re just able to catch as the music fades briefly.

Taking advantage of the quiet, Brown Hair speaks. “All right girls, now listen. There was an obscenely gorgeous man checking out our new friend a second ago, and I bet he still is. A few tables behind us, with the hair?”

With the hair? She and you are facing the dance floor, but her friends are facing the bar’s tables, one of which your future man is apparently sitting at. With outstanding coordination and nonchalance, they all manage to identify him over your shoulders, and whistle their approval.

The one who…?” You strain to hear Arm Muscle’s question, but it’s lost beneath a suddenly surging bassline.

Brown Hair darts a quick glance over shoulder and nods.

“That is some nice hair, and I would know,” the blue-afroed beauty smirks and winks at you, before grabbing your hand and tugging you slightly further onto the dance floor. Still close enough to the edge to be plenty visible to anyone seated at a table. “Don’t you worry, we’ll get you that man.”

“I haven’t even seen him!” You protest with a laugh, even as you follow her willingly.

“Girl, all you need to know is that he is insanely hot.” The one with the accent speaks from close behind you. “As your designated girl friend group for tonight, it’s our duty to help you lure him in.”

Conversation becomes impossible in the rhythm of the crowd. You follow their lead, let their hips and hands guide your movements, losing yourself in the uninhibited joy of moving your body to the thumping music. In the whirl of unself-conscious beings all around you, you momentarily forget what brought you out here in the first place.

Until, after some unknown amount of time, Brown Hair twirls to face you. “He’s on the move!” She waggles her eyebrows.

You remember then that you’re supposed to be dancing for some guy. You’re still facing away from the tables, but from in front of you Blue Hair has a clear view over your shoulder. “Mmm, look at his hunky blond friends,” she purrs. “Think he’ll bring them over too?”

Wait. Surely they couldn’t mean…? There had to be more than one table in here with two hunky blond men at it, right??

She spins you around, and you follow her pointing to where Benny and Santiago are standing at their table, the former clapping the latter on the back. Eyes widening, you’re nearly beside yourself wondering which of your boys the girls could possibly be referring to- until Santiago detaches himself from the group.

“Your man is coming!” Accent squeals.

“Wait, he was the one checking me out?” you hiss frantically.

“Undressing you with his eyes, babe,” Brown Hair nods knowingly. The others make sounds of confirmation.

Pope’s dark eyes pin you as makes his way across the room. He weaves through the tables like they aren’t even there, like you’re the only thing worth his attention. Your lips part in shock.

You’d always thought the vague chemistry between you and Santiago was merely a side effect of his natural sexual charisma. Like a power he could turn on and off at will, you’d seen it in action enough times to recognize it. Although...it had never occurred to you to wonder if the chemistry was not, in fact, a side effect, but rather an intended result. Had Santi been deliberately using his powers on you?

Watching him go, Benny chortles. His gaze slides past Santiago to the other women who are still blatantly eyeing their table. “Looks like you might be DD for just yourself tonight, Catfish.” He smirks devilishly and runs a hand through his hair. “Come on, brother.” Will doesn’t react to his sibling’s invitation as he saunters after Pope, only sipping his beer contemplatively.

Frankie snorts at the older brother’s obvious interest. “Get out of here man, they’re definitely checking you out, too. I’ll hang here for a little while longer.”

Will cracks a smile. Draining his glass, he unfurls himself from the table, bright blue eyes roving appreciatively over the women flanking you.

“You’re the man, Francisco.” The taller blond gives him a nod of thanks before following his brother.

Frankie only shakes his head, a faint smile on his lips as he observes the scene unfolding between you and Pope. Finally.

With the hair, indeed. That should have tipped you off straightaway. You’ve been encouraging Santi to grow out his gorgeous curls for probably as long as you’ve known him, but he rarely took leave for long enough to gain any measurable growth. Even short, however, his greying locks reflect the colors of the roaming spotlights as he approaches, making his beauty even more otherworldly.

Dumb with surprise, you don’t have time to plan any kind of reaction before Santiago is there, standing before you with one upturned hand outstretched. “Can I cut in?”

Cooing, your new friends part to allow him unhindered access to you. Although there’s a suave sort of expectancy on his face- he knows what the girls were doing- even in the dim, shifting light you can see the genuine question in his eyes.

You’re still unsure of what he’s playing at, but Santi has never let you down before. Your hand doesn’t waver as you place it in his.

His fingers curl around yours, warm and reassuring. He tears his gaze from you only to briefly address the girls: “My friends are single, by the way.”

As if on cue, you all become aware of Benny and Will sidling up in Santiago’s wake, like two blond, shameless, bad ideas.

Santi is wearing that big shit-eating grin when he turns back to you, and you can’t help but smile at his familiar antics. Laughing, you let him sweep you away, guiding you toward a more remote corner of the dance floor and into a sway that’s breathtakingly gentler than what you were expecting, given the moves with which you and the girls were taunting him.

(If his hold feels gentle, he makes sure it doesn’t look that way: flexing his arms where they rest around your waist and brushing his nose along your hairline, breathing you in and sending menacing glowers to anyone still looking at you.)

You’ve never been this lost for words around Santiago. You’ve danced with him before, technically; but it had never felt like this. You want to speak, but your tongue feels clumsy in your mouth, heavy with the energy between you. As your thoughts churn, his hold shifts, one arm wrapping all the way around your waist to draw you nearer, the other sliding up your spine, fingertips tracing the skin above the back of your dress.

It may have only been a song or two during which you held each other, but it felt like much longer. His light caress sets the blood fizzing in your veins, sparkling like drink mixers, sweet with the promise of bright memories to come.

Finally he speaks. “Is this okay?” Santi murmurs.

Hearing his warm voice in your ear, instead of making you more nervous, grounds you. That familiar, steady timbre, his quiet confidence and trust in you to answer him truthfully. Which you do, because you trust him, too.

“Very,” you profess into his neck. Your nose nearly tucks beneath the collar of his button-down. “Santi…” you hesitate, knowing you want to ask but unsure of what the question is.

He waits, his subtle swaying never faltering.

“Why tonight?” It’s a vague, possibly lame cop-out of a question, but it’s the only way you can think to phrase it. He’ll understand though. Santi can play the fool when he wants, but he knows you, and now isn’t the time.

For several heartbeats, the only response is the rasp of his stubble against your jaw. You swear you feel his lips brush your skin, but before you can properly register the sensation he’s withdrawing to answer.

“Mmm...Well, I don’t need to tell you what those dance moves of yours do to me.” He pinches your side in emphasis, but despite your squirm and flush, you scoff. Santi has seen you dance like that before- he’s been the one dancing with you like that before.

Santiago chuckles, the sound liquid dark. He knew you wouldn’t buy that. “Honestly, I don’t know. Seeing all these other assholes eyeing you up like they’d have a chance...I couldn’t stop myself. I’m just putting them out of their misery, really.”

You snort at his dismissive shrug, knowing his irreverence masks real emotion. You can read it in the lines of his face, each one as dear and familiar to you as the beauty marks on your own. Green and red lights stripe his skin as you study them.

He can’t quite meet your gaze, suddenly. “What are you staring at,” Santi grumbles, burying his face in your neck again.

You giggle at his gruffness, at his breath huffing on the sensitive skin.

“Just your pretty face, Santi,” you croon. You tighten your arms around his shoulders, deliberately wiggling closer so you’re pressed more firmly against him.

His sharp, surprised inhale juts into your chest. But any response he might have given is lost beneath the sudden blare of trumpets from the speakers.

The familiar melody makes you both pause. You lean back just far enough to meet Santiago’s eye; you know he’s anticipating the same thing you are and you both shout: “Shakira, Shakira!”

You squeal as Santi leaps back from you, grabbing your hands and twirling you in a familiar routine. ‘Hips Don’t Lie’ had become, thanks to Benny, Pope’s song, a claim he always pretended to roll his eyes at when the boys brought it up. But he secretly loved it, and rarely missed a chance to show off why.

Your muscles leap into action as he does just that, dancing you to the Latin beat. You’re breathless with laughter, sweat beading on your hairline.

I don’t, don’t really know what I’m doing, but you seem to have a plan...

The tripping guitar notes swirl around you, but Santiago doesn’t let you stumble. He guides you in time with the pounding percussion, his whole body undulating to the rhythm.

All the attraction, the tension...

His arms cross above your head as Santi spins you so your back is pressed to his chest. He holds you close, hands low on your hips, and you lean back into him, relishing the strength in the muscles shifting against your spine. Warmth radiates from him, all-encompassing. He hooks his chin over your shoulder and you turn your head to look at him.

His face is much closer than you were expecting; a thrill bursts in your chest. Curiosity kindles, however, as you take in his expression. You’re not sure if you recognize it. Happy, but searching- like he’s gauging your reaction, or seeing something he hasn’t before.

You don’t have time to dwell on it, though- the song is approaching Benny’s favorite line. You tip your head as if listening, raising your eyebrows at Santi expectantly.

His eyes widen, sparking with recognition at your signal. You jump away-

Let me see you move like you come from Columbia…

The saxophone trills its long, fluttering note and you whoop in admiration at the sight before you. Santiago loops his hips rapidly, letting them sling him in a circle, his elbows held square at chest level. His lips form an “o” of concentration in a spicy expression that would make anyone else look ridiculous. But Santi’s obvious skill and the self-assured confidence with which he always carries himself only makes the whole thing ridiculously sexy.

Santi’s movements cause his shirt to ride up, exposing a sliver of taut, tan skin. Shamelessly you appreciate the visible, flexing muscles in his arms and thighs. His butt in those jeans.

He is grinning and giddy when he faces you again, one corner of his smile crooking higher as he witnesses your glee. Laughing, Santi pulls you back into his arms.

“How many times have you seen me dance like that, cariño? And every time you have the same reaction.” His voice is breathless in your ear.

You bite your lip at the warmth of his broad hands, at what is definitely the kiss of his mouth on your skin.

“I like your dancing, Santi,” you say simply. His pulse thrums beneath your lips as you slowly skim them up his neck in return.

Into the line of his jaw you admit “...I like when you dance with me.”

Santiago brings one hand up to cradle your head, leaning back slightly to look at you. His brown eyes are full of affection. “I love dancing with you.” Creases fan out from his eyes as he smiles and he is so beautiful it makes your heart squeeze.

The moment hovers, both of you hardly daring to hope. Your gaze skips down to his lips despite your best efforts.

You know he sees it when his grasp tightens, his hold at the nape of your neck becoming more deliberate. His face is merely a breath away.

“Cariño?” he murmurs. You’re surprised to see the faintest trace of uncertainty, the question in his eyes. He’s asking if you’re sure.

One eyebrow quirks the tiniest bit. “Santi?” You are.

The uncertainty vanishes, and you kiss him.

He lets out a soft groan in the back of his throat. He hauls you as close as he possibly can, and you arch into him, trying to get closer.

You plunge your hands into his silvery curls with a sigh of satisfaction. You’ve touched his hair before, but never like this- never used it to hold his face to yours. The damp traces of sweat as you twist your fingers in it only add to the surreal euphoria of it all. The flashing lights leave colored impressions against your closed eyelids; the music is a muffled, fading pulse as your senses fill with him.

The sturdy press of Santiago’s body, the smell of him- lingering cologne and the musk of his earlier exertions. His mouth velvety hot, his tongue curling against your own in a way that makes heat expand low in your belly. Increasing desperation infects both of you as you realize you should have done this ages ago.

Dimly you become aware of raucous cheers coming from somewhere nearby. With a gasp you pull your mouth from Santi’s, chest heaving. His lust-blown eyes clear somewhat as you share a shy grin.

Then he looks up, toward where the Miller brothers and your girls are hooting at you. Benny cackles as Santiago gives them a one-fingered salute. You shrug helplessly at the girls, noticing with delight the way they’ve paired off: Benny with his arms around both Accent and Arm Muscles; next to them, Blue Hair’s beautiful brown skin contrasting with Will’s paler complexion.

Overcome with mischief, you duck your head into Santiago’s neck again. Placing your lips where it curves into his shoulder, you flutter your tongue delicately against the flesh before biting down with purpose, laving and nibbling to leave a mark.

Santi sucks in air and you feel a subtle shudder wrack his body. He is still facing your friends; scandalized oooohs sound from their direction, and you're impishly delighted to have made him react in some visible way.

His grip on your head shifts so that one thumb is pressed beneath your chin, guiding your head back up to look at him. He breathes your name, his expression dangerous- but questioning all the same.

Radiating innocence, you grin in answer. “Wanna get out of here, Santi?”

Relief quickly vanishes beneath the promising gleam in his eyes as he takes your hand.

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier fic #santiago garcia #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #if it sounds like a straight white girl wrote this...i write what i know 🤷🏻‍♀️💀

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itsthestutterforme · 3 years ago

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Free of Charge (Chris Evans x Afro!Latina!reader)

Summary: Reader teachers Chris how to dance for a Latina woman he is currently seeing; Chris falls for the reader in the process.

Notes: GIF is not mine, mentions of Anthony Mackie

"Oh yeah. I know someone who could help you out," Anthony says, walking next to Chris on Main Street. "Really? Who? What's their rate per hour because I might take all day."

"She'll do it free of charge, she owes me a favor from a couple of months ago." "She's one of my close friends does dancing as a hobby and could definitely make a career out of it." He adds.

"And she does Latin Dance?" "She's Afro Latina. She's a natural at Latin dance but she's insanely good at Hip Hop and Dance Hall."

"Wow, okay. That's great. Thanks a lot because I have no rhythm at all." "That's not true man, I've seen you tear up a dance floor." Anthony encourages.

"Well yeah, but that was with songs I knew. I had no idea how to dance to Spanish music." Chris explains. "Don't worry, she'll help you out."

You were in the middle of stretching before your class when you heard your phone chirp from the bag. Huffing as you standing, thinking that you put your phone on silent. You take the phone into your hand and saw it was a text from Anthony.

"What does this chump want?" You ask yourself. "A chump?" One of your students asks and the other students turned to face you. Without even looking up from the phone, you raise your index finger and say, "You're in my business. Don't do that."

You open the message and read it fully. The Chris Evans needs you help with dancing. You never would have thought. "You're taking being my mannequin for my sowing project pretty serious huh? Call that a favor."

You smile, knowing your text will get him riled up. Your phone chirps with another text, "You pricked me ten times! Hell yeah, it's a favor!" "Big baby. When does he need to know the routine?" "Next Saturday," "Alright, I can work with that. When is he free next?" "As soon as you can," "Wednesday it is."

You open the door to your house after you heard a faint, hesitant knock. Chris stood in your doorway anxiously with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The tips of his ears were red and his face looked flushed. Both seemed a lot worse as soon as he set eyes on you.

"Hi, come on in." You greet. His body relaxes a little when he hears the whines on your dog, Rema. "You have a dog?" "Yeah, a Labradoodle. She's very talkative." "Is she friendly?" "Oh yeah she's very friendly. I put her away because she'll definitely push you away so she can dance with me."

He chuckles and takes a deep breath. "It's going to be alright. I'm one of the least judgemental people you'll meet-unless it's about Anthony." You comfort.

Walking into the living room, you click on La Carretera. "Alright, let's start with the basics for the easiest latin dance, bachata. It's just a two step routine, okay?"

He nods in response. "Would you like something to drink or some chips? I have a large assortment of both. I like having options." You say with a chuckle. "Yeah what kind of drinks do you have?" You lead him to your mini fridge you have just for drinks.

"Help yourself," you dance bachata slowly with one hand on your chest and the other in the air. You spin around and chuckle while Chris made his way back into your living room. "Don't feel discouraged. Just follow the step, step, hip motion."

He takes a big gulp out of his lemonade before setting down on the counter. He watches you as you move to the music and you vocalize step, step, hip while you're doing the movement. "Got it?" "I think so," "Great, now I'm going to take your hands so you can follow my rhythm alright?" He nods.

You do as you said you would and he moves along with you. Step, step, hip. "Good, loosen your hips a little- you mind?" "No, not at all." You place your hands on his hips and moved so it appeared more fluid. "Ohh," "Yeah," you say with a chuckle.

"I think you have a good ground on this now so let's practice this for about twenty more minutes before we add to it. Sounds good?" "Sounds perfect,"

What the hell is wrong with me? Chris thinks to himself. He wanted to learn how to dance for the woman he was seeing. They were in the talking stage for about a month now.

They went out on dates. And he really liked her. But then he met you and you creeped his way into his mind so quick it took him off guard.

It was the passion you had. You are such a passionate person and it showed in everything you do. From bachata, you taught him how to dance pegao. You did the same thing for merengue and salsa. And now it's all you do when you practice with each other.

You showed him the power behind sensuality. Moving sensually from the hips or even with a body roll, will change the vibe really quick.

Chris went out dancing with the girl he was talking to and all he could think about was the conversations you two had in your living room about the randomest things.

The next thing he knew, you walked in with your date and Anthony walked in with his wife. You two planned to go dancing here together but you thought Chris was going to a more formal restaurant. You thought wrong you guessed.

He never did tell you where he was going. He never really talked about his date when he was with you. Which you found odd because the reason why he went to you for dancing lessons were because of his date.

When Chris saw you dressed up, his heart pattered in his chest. You wore a red, silk spaghetti strap and black heels. Your 3c curly hair was picked out into a curl fro. Your date wears a black dress up shirt, beige slacks and black shoes.

"Hey! I didn't know you were headed here." Anthony greets as he approaches Chris with his wife. "Hey,"

Chris and Anthony hug each other while you made your way to them. "Y/N, this is my date, Prim." Pleasure to meet you." You greet, your date slides a hand down your back.

A dancehall song comes on and you look to your date with a smile. "We'll be right back," you take his hand and lead him into the crowd. You turn around and whine your hips to the music, slowly squating down. You make your way back up and his hands find your hips, bringing your hips together and rolling.

"You are literally embodiment of divinity, you know that?" He asks. You smile up at him and Chris watches the entire interaction. Prim notices and takes her purse into her hands.

"How long?" "Huh?" Chris is pulled back into reality. "How long have you liked her?" "Prim-" "No, I understand. You can't help who you like. I just wished you would have given me a chance."

"Prim, wait-" she gives Chris a kiss and leaves the bar. Anthony and his wife gives him a sympathetic look. You danced around the rest of the night while Chris watches hopelessly.

The door bell rung and you stumbled to the front door as you tugged on a large sweater. Desperate to hide the hickeys literally along your collarbone. Looking through the peephole, you furrow your brow when you see Chris.

"Hey, is everything okay?" His eyes drift from your neck to your eyes and your cheeks heated up. "We need to talk," he says. You opened your mouth to speak but your date from last night, Darnell, hugs you from behind. Chris sends him a glare and steps into the house.

"You need to leave. I have to talk to her." Chris says. "Is everything alright, Y/N?" "She's fine," "You do not speak for her." Darnell snaps. "Enough you two. I'm too grown for this." You state. Taking Chris' hand into yours, you bring him into the living room.

"What's up with you? You've been acting weird since Friday." "Prim broke up with me," he says, his shoulder sagging. "Crap, I'm so sorry. What did she say?" "She just.. said that I liked some else more than her and that I didn't give her a chance."

"Well- is she right or? Do you like someone right now that isn't Prim? I don't understand, you two seemed like you were hitting it off." You explain. Chris takes a moment to smile at you. "You really are oblivious, are you?" "Oblivious to what?"

Your heart races when he lifted his hand to smooth a hand over your hair. "It's only been a week." "I knew the first day that things would end like this. I didn't bother fighting it." "Why?" "You're beyond unique, Y/N. You're perfect."

This cannot be happening. You got to be dreaming. You had sex with a very attractive college professor only to wake up to Chris confessing his feelings for you. This is most definitely a rom com move.

"Darnell, I'll call you later okay?" You say and he nods. He puts on his clothes and grabbed his wallet and keys before leaving your apartment. "Are you sure it's not just lust? I mean I understand if it is because we danced really close and you saw me wind a couple times but-"

He cups the back of your head and closes his eyes when he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. He then kisses your nose and your stomach flips when you make eye contact with him. "Oh God," you whisper against his lips.

#chrisevans x reader #black!reader #afrolatina

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brawltogethernow · 4 years ago

Note

Can you rank the Straw Hat Pirates for me

NO BECAUSE THEY’RE ALL GOOD AND FRIENDS,,,,,,,,,, I do enjoy listing things though so yeah okay.

A Slapdash, Biased Ranking

1. Monkey D. Luffy

Who and what is he and how has he held up thousands of chapters of good manga. Shouldn’t be able to exist, doesn’t make logical sense, impossible to comprehend. A human brain made this?

2. Usopp

The aesthetics that seamlessly combine in this dude... Lying storytelling brave coward handyman sniper, and it’s so satisfying. Entertaining in pretty much any scenario, effortlessly straddles both comedy and drama, often in combination. ALL of his motifs and running gags work.... He Has The Range. Also best theme song.

3. Nami

I LOVE... Strongest personality on the crew. I’m still riding the high of her backstory and how it informs who she is in the present enough to mostly overlook the increasingly I Wish You Wouldn’t way Oda started drawing her.

4. Nico Robin

Flawless except Oda doesn’t seem aware he made her a fighting heavyweight.

5. Vinsmoke Sanji

Could be number two (or...three? ha) if Oda’s sexism weren’t showing, considering what a strong example he is of the story’s key themes around both food/starvation AND found family/rejecting your blood, but alas. Increasingly flanderized handling made him a pain to read and almost ruined him for me before Whole Cake dug back in on why he’s great. MANY points had to be deducted for that. Still up there though because Whole Cake DID double the fuck down holy shit.

6. Zoro

Solid and low on flaws, doesn’t have a ton going on though. A neutral pirate.

7. Franky

I love him but it’s been downhill for this dude since his incredible introductory arc. Doesn’t have a consistent good role in either light or action scenes, design update is a serious downgrade that made him too big to fit in panels. You’d think being the maintenance guy would involve him more actively, but there’s overlap with Usopp’s predating trait as the crew inventor robbing the wind from his mad science sails. (Robbing the...cola?) Props still for how his entire character concept is completely insane and Oda still made that work somehow. I didn’t WANT to feel things about the speedo man but I wasn’t given a choice. I want to put him higher than Brook because I like him better but he’s just not as automatically worthwhile when placed in a miscellaneous scenario. Honestly only above Brook because I like him better, as he’s just not as automatically worthwhile when placed in a miscellaneous scenario.

8. Brook

He’s a fucking skeleton with an afro who plays the violin!?? Also LABOOOOOOOON. *cries* On the other hand, despite being a great callback to the early leg of the series, his personal dream is the least convincing, since during the timeskip he just completely put it off. Also more “key character note requires me to misinterpret constant mild sexism as comedy”. ALSO given more shallow handling than is average for the story, depreciating the strong introduction of his tragic backstory. Key gags are good but get repetitive, and none of their updates improve that. But like...skeleton. Second best theme song.

9. Jinbe

A dude you feel safer just standing near. Hasn’t done much yet though! Needs more panel time to ascend. We waited on this dude for SO LONG. EARN IT. Pretty much all his scenes with crew members are satisfying, but seriously we got edged for like ten years.

10. Tony Tony Chopper

Oh my god I’m so sorry Chopper jesus christ.... What do you do though. Good when he’s on the page but has pretty much just been around filling space since his (very good) intro arc. I’m not trying to reinforce the insecurities you got from your bounty kid I’m so sorry. Oh my god.

#one piece #strawhat pirates #anonymous #asks answered

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dustedmagazine · 4 years ago

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Listed: His Name Is Alive

While Warren Defever’s name is perhaps less recognizable than that of his band His Name Is Alive, he’s also been connected with a seemingly endless array of other projects: Princess Dragon-Mom, Elvis Hitler, ESP Beetles, Control Panel, and far more. This doesn’t get into his recording and production credits for the likes of Michael Hurley, Iggy and the Stooges, and Mdou Moctar. Forever associated with Michigan’s weirdo-underground music scene, Defever has recently been issuing a series of long-buried recordings as His Name Is Alive. In February, the Disciples label released Hope Is a Candle, the third and final volume in the "Home Recordings" trilogy exploring Defever's teenage tape experimentation as well as A Silver Thread (Home Recordings 1979 - 1990), a four-volume collection of many of Defever’s solo home recordings prior to His Name Is Alive releasing their debut album Livonia on 4AD in 1990. In his review of A Silver Thread, Tim Clarke writes “For a collection of home recordings, what’s most striking about this music is how fully realized and carefully executed it sounds, comparable at times to contemporary artists such as Grouper, Benoît Pioulard and Tim Hecker. This is not the 1980s that I remember.”

Defever gives us his “What Else Is New” list, a set of personal snapshots, memories of a life spent in music, warning the reader that “the descriptions don’t always have an obvious correlation to the video, but welcome to my nightmare brain.”

In The Line of Fire

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I started performing when I was five. My grandfather was a self-taught musician from Saskatchewan in Western Canada and he showed me and my brothers how to play banjo, guitar and fiddle. One of my earliest memories is having a full size 127 lb. accordion placed onto my lap and my grandmother voicing her disappointment when I refused to play. I did learn slide guitar from her later though. I have many, often terrible, memories of performing at square dances with his band and we would play old timey country music, folk songs, polkas and waltzes. There were also gigs at the trailer park, old folks homes and a convent. Although my grandfather believed that popular music died with Hank Williams in 1953, he still found room in his heart for Lawrence Welk and Slim Whitman.

Meet Me By The Water

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By age ten I had a tape recorder and was using it to capture the sounds of nearby lakes, thunderstorms, and my older brothers LP collection played at the wrong speeds. I recently found the cassette, Echo Lake (1983) which features waves crashing onto the beach on the Canadian side of Lake St. Clair but it was recorded right after I got an echo pedal so it’s got a heavy dose of dreamy delay. Tape loops of the next door neighbor raking leaves and shoveling the driveway would be repurposed a few years later as rhythm tracks on the first His Name Is Alive LP, Livonia (4AD, 1990). Detroit in the late 70s and early 80s had totally insane radio and one of the highlights was Met-Ezzthetics, a late night show on WDET hosted by Faruq Z. Bey who also played saxophone in Griot Galaxy. Shortly before his death he played with His Name is Alive and we had a chance to formalize our student-teacher relationship.

Search For Higher Energies

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In high school I was studying Bach Chorale harmonization and counterpoint during the day but recording and touring with the band Elvis Hitler at night. The other guys in band were older but at 16 I was a familiar sight at shitty Detroit punk clubs and Hamtramck dive bars, the nerdy teenager reading a book or doing homework sitting at the bar waiting ’til midnight or 1am for our slot to play our hellbilly hits, “It’s A Long Way From Berlin To Memphis,” and “Hot Rod To Hell.” I was still trying to make sense of the post 1953 music scene and when I met the guy with a giant afro and shiny super hero outfit complete with shiny cape I had no idea he was Rob Tyner of the MC5. We released three records before I was twenty one and played shows and toured with Devo, the Dwarves, the Dead Milkmen, Reverend Horton Heat, the Beat Farmers, Helios Creed, Babes In Toyland, the Cro-Mags, Corrosion of Conformity, the Frogs, the Gories, Pussy Galore, the Unsane and way more I can’t remember I was just a kid. It was some kind of education.

You Don’t Have To Go Home But You Can’t Stay Here

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When I signed with 4AD I thought I was a composer and they let me write my own bio, so I called His Name Is Alive the work of a “fucked up, irresponsible teenage composer.” I had only been writing music for three years. When I heard “Tom Violence” by Sonic Youth I thought for the first time in my life, “I think I could do that.” In 1988 I made a mixtape with Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car, Leadbelly and some of Big Star’s third album and I tried to arrange it like it was an album, then I made my own album in that same shape, it was called I Had Sex With God and I sent it to 4AD. Our first album contained three of the first five pieces of music I had ever written. Within a few years I was playing festivals for contemporary classical composers and new age artists who were thirty or forty years older than me. His Name Is Alive played the Musicas Visuales Festival in Mexico with Harold Budd, Paul Horn and Jorge Reyes. The mayor of the city presented me with a guitar but then dramatically walked out of the theater during our performance realizing he had made a terrible mistake. I remember the surreal moment when from across the room Harold Budd walked in and greeted me as “Mr. Defever.” He had a cold and was sniffling during his set, the audience thought he was crying. I recorded his show and when I got back home to Livonia I added my own guitar to some of his songs and then edited the tapes, looping my favorite parts and editing out the parts I didn’t like, also adding additional layers of reverb and echo. More recently I did a concert in a five hundred year old temple in Japan where the unamplified meditation music never rose above a whisper and the monk had to turn off the furnace because the heat molecules were too loud. The show was recorded and released under the name Mountain Ocean Sun and features Ian Masters and Hitoko Sakai.

Energy Dealer

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Both my parents were born in Canada, my mother in Saskatchewan, my father in Ontario. I have dual citizenship as my father was American and my mother had Canadian citizenship. I spent summers, holidays and weekends in a tiny cottage on Lake St. Clair that did not have a telephone and had curtains instead of doors separating the two rooms. Myrt Fortin who lived next door would receive phone calls for my mom, walk over to our place and yell into the window, “Hey wake up your ma, your dad’s on the phone.” My mom took a lot of naps, so she was always asleep when something important was happening. I remember always getting cut on broken glass while swimming in the lake or getting stabbed by one of the neighbors and having to go wake up my mom to take me to the hospital.

Lord I Don’t Believe You Exist

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When I was ten my parents sat me down and told me it was time that I got a summer job. There were only two businesses in town, a gas station and a hardware store so I walked up to the hardware store and asked the owner for a job and immediately fell to the ground crying. Completely fell apart. He asked me why I wanted to work in hardware. I didn’t know what to say, I was only ten but I knew not to tell the owner that his store was stupid and I didn’t think he could handle the truth. It turned out he also owned the gas station so that didn’t really work out. Later that summer, I began working for the Pickseed Corporation as corn de-tasseling season was just beginning. All the moms would drop off their kids in the church parking lot in Tecumseh, just outside of Windsor, around 4:30am where an unmarked windowless cargo van was waiting that had cinderblocks and 2'x4' boards instead of benches so they could squeeze in the maximum amount of children. There were three job requirements to work in a cornfield, the child (it was only children, no adults) needed to show up with a baseball hat, a thermos with water and a large black plastic garbage bag. I think this was before sunglasses were invented. Upon arriving at the cornfield, we were separated into pickers and checkers, younger kids each taking a row of corn (a row could extend a mile or more) and a slightly older kid would organize and manage several of the younger kids. In the morning we were instructed to poke two arm holes and a head hole into our garbage bags and put it on like a raincoat because the corn was covered in dew and kids wearing wet clothes would walk slower than dry kids. So almost every day there was a point, usually around 11am when the dew would dry and we would be roasted alive from the summer sun coming down on our ridiculous shiny black plastic outfits. We worked from sun up until sun down. I received three dollars and thirty five cents an hour. For all you city folks, corn is planted in alternating rows of types of corn so that when the top part of the plant is removed, or “de-tasseled,” it can seed or cross-pollinate easily. It’s a terrible job with a high turnover rate and every day I would hear the sound of kids in nearby rows that had given up hope, sat down in the middle of the field and crying for hours. The following year, at age 11, I was promoted from picker to checker, and was put in charge of a group of about ten sixteen year old’s.

Sleep It Off

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Mostly I like to record – His Name is Alive has over a hundred releases and I’ve done another fifty records under various names, Control Panel, Warren Michael Defever, ESP BEETLES, ESP SUMMER, Forest People, Infinity People, Jeepers Creepers, Layla al-Akhyaliyya, Mirror Dream, Princess Dragon-Mom, the Dirt Eaters, the Fishcats, the Whales, plus way more I can’t remember probably because the names were so dumb. I’ve recorded about four hundred records for other bands at my house or other studios. I’ve worked on records with Danny Kroha, Ida, Fred Thomas, Elizabeth Mitchell, Wild Belle, Michael Hurley, and when I was a teenager I helped record the first Gories album which was especially unique as I was the junior assistant engineer who helped move their equipment into the dirt floor garage next to the studio where it was decided the acoustics would be way worse. Also, I helped collage about a hundred Destroy All Monsters tapes from the 70s for a couple of their releases which led to remastering a bunch of tapes from the John Sinclair White Panther Party archives. I’ve done remixes for Thurston Moore and Yoko Ono and when Iggy and The Stooges started touring again I got a phone call from Ron Asheton seeing if I would help them record demos for their reunion album with Mike Watt on bass. They wrote the songs together while they were recording in Niagara’s basement sort of simultaneously. Iggy didn’t have a notebook with all his lyric ideas, instead he just sang about whatever happened that day – one song was about the airline losing his luggage, one about ATM machines and another was about reading in a newspaper that Ray Davies of the Kinks had been shot in New Orleans. In the end they weren’t terribly excited by my suggested song titles including “No Shirt” (you know because it’s like “No Fun” plus you know Iggy never wears a shirt) and they didn’t seem to love the mixes that I did that sounded kind of like those crappy Raw Power bootlegs.

Cost Of Living

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Two summers ago I recorded an incredible concert by Mdou Moctar live at Third Man Records in Detroit. They’re wild hypnotic Hendrix style jammers who live in the desert. The band didn’t speak much english but I think I was able to communicate to them how excited I was about their amazing fingerpicking and hot guitar solos after the show by screaming and replaying the best solos over and over again and then screaming the word fuzz and pointing at their fingers. It’s insane and having seen them a few times since then with a different drummer and the addition of a bass player, I’m convinced it’s their best album. It’s wild but it’s still not Tchin-tabaraden wedding wild.

Licked By Lions

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Jonathan Richman walks into Ethan and Gretchen's studio and asks if I can remove all the rugs, take the acoustic treatments off the walls and strike the baffles which normally separate the instruments, drums and amps, so the room will have the most echo possible, he has also invited about ten friends including Johnny Bee Badanjek the drummer from Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels and Mary Cobra from the Detroit Cobras to dance, sing and play percussion in the studio while he records. He has two vocal microphones set up at either end of the room and has brought his own microphones for the drums along with his own desired placement for them. He notices a tamboura near the control room and asks if I know how to play it or if I know how to tune it. Within seconds he’s tuned it and proceeds to sing Indian classical music accompanying himself on tamboura drone for about thirty five minutes. It’s beautiful and very surprising. He asks me if I recorded it, I lie and say no. Later he asks me not to play it for anyone. We record for hours. Some songs are quite long – ten and fifteen minutes, some are medleys of oldies or soft rock hits from the seventies segueing into new songs of his. It’s a confusing session as it’s not clear when songs are starting and ending and he often plays guitar and sings nowhere near a microphone. The distance between him and the microphone seems to have some meaning, there’s some formula to when he chooses to walk away in the middle of a verse but I am unable to determine the secret code. At the end of the session three or four songs are deemed usable, edited and mixed, although, sadly, an attempt at a completely insane and unexpected fuzz guitar solo is left unreleased. (The Harold Budd piece is at the opposite end of this spectrum.)

Calling All Believers

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Shortly after Tecuciztecatl was released, I received an email from Dr. James Beacham at CERN inviting us to perform at a series of concerts that would combine experimental music with experimental science at the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva, Switzerland. He didn’t contact our booking agent, which would be how we generally receive offers for gigs, instead he sent an email to me, which would be how we generally receive crazy messages from our completely insane fans (murderous, delusional, poetic, threatening messages usually). I assumed the invitation was fake or a prank and replied that we would prefer to wait until they had successfully opened a pathway to interspatial dimensions and we’d play on the other side or that if that was unlikely to happen at a convenient time then perhaps we could set up our equipment right on the edge of a mini-black hole and perform as the Earth is being destroyed so we could release the concert film “Live At The End Of The World.” After a few messages back and forth, it was clear that he was legit and I apologized for being such a jerk. Soon I discovered poetry within the language of particle physics as well as a certain beauty in the idea that these scientists have devoted their lives to dreaming, searching and discovering basic principles that connect all things in existence. The song “Calling All Believers” refers to this devotion. “Energy Acceleration” compares the scientists to monastic life in medieval times and mystics trying to find and define the line between this world and the next and at the same time invoking the incredible amounts of energy needed to create the collisions experiments. The Patterns of Light LP was released in 2016 on London London Records and is about interpreting visions of light, trying to find universal truth with whatever tools available, it’s about the search for how everything works, why it works and how it got that way but also about being inspired on a basic level by the way a thing looks and how all your senses take in a thing. A thousand years ago Hildegard Von Bingen was writing about this same thing in letters, songs, medical texts, and had even developed her own language to use in her mystical writings, similar to Magma drummer Christian Vander using his own language for their concept albums or French black metalists Brenoritvrezorkre and Moëvöt.

The Light Inside You

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We get a lot of letters from fans, mostly weirdos though. I think it started when we released Song of Schizophrenia, that sort of connected us to a certain demographic I suspect. Here’s a recent typical message we received. “Growing up in Panama City, Mouth By Mouth and Livonia were like passages to other realms. I drank a ton of cough syrup at the time but those albums helped make life more livable. I was about to go to art school for sculpture and graphic design and the textures I heard on those records had actual shapes to them. Most music I knew at that time was flat or linear. I got them on cassette via mail-order from an ad placed in a bmx magazine. Mouth By Mouth arrived just before going to work at the amusement park and I was able to listen to it twice on the way thanks to the never-ending beach traffic. As luck would have it, I worked on “The Abominable Snowman” ride, basically a tilt-a-whirl inside a dome with lots of fog machine action, blue lights, mirrors, and lots of air conditioning. It took about 10 listens that day before it wasn’t as weird as when I first put it on. Maybe it was my bubblegum flavor/robitussin combo slushie on top of no-doz that pulled it all together, but it was probably a weird ride for a lot of vacationing beach tourists and townies when all they really wanted to hear was “Naughty by Nature” by O.P.P. I had no business running those rides at the age of 17 but I really loved how disorienting that ride could be with all the mirrors, the fog, the cold and for the final 90 seconds the ride would go in reverse. I had a buddy named Kevin that did acid at work and would repeatedly run the mini-train off the tracks and all the riders had to walk back through the woods for about a half mile that summer.”

#dusted magazine #listed #his name is alive #warren defever #warren michael defever #poppy #griot galaxy #faruq z. bey #slim whitman #mdou moctar #sly stone #harold budd #steve wonder #elvis hitler #princess dragon-mom

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lunariasilver · 4 years ago

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The Virtuoso: Chapter 1

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Despite my better judgement, I decided to let the woman who attacked me live. She told me her name was Zara. I thought that was a stupid name.

I told her that, too.

She wasn't pleased, but what could she do about it? I had already made it pretty clear that the only reason she was alive was because of...I don't know, some sense of whimsy. Regardless, I was sure that I wouldn't see much of her in the future. It wasn't like I seemed like the type to run a gang, so she had no reason to bother me in the future with some strange desire to suck up to me.

Or at least I hoped not. The concept seemed like a lot of effort.

Now I was regretting not killing her. Those thoughts weighing heavily on me, I set about figuring out exactly how Meteor City worked in the first place.

It didn't take long for me to make a name for myself. Zara helped, actually. Immediately after I let her go she started spreading rumors about some "demon child."

I took a great deal of offense to that nickname.

I was 15 years old. I wasn't a child.

Meteor City was awful. Practically lawless. Dangerous. And yet...aside from a few big names I had to avoid, I found myself flourishing there.

Old habits died hard. Soon after my arrival people started coming to me to 'take care of' their problems. It seemed I was an assassin wherever I went. I had almost the finest amenities that Meteor City had to offer, which was admittedly not much.

We had no plumbing. Disease ran rampant. I threw an excrement bucket on someone's head for fun. There were some water sources, of course. But...well. They weren't exactly filtered.

I set myself up a decent base by one such water source. I threw the previous occupants out back.

I was starting to get settled into my new life of misery when I woke up one morning to find my violin missing.

My violin.

The only gift my grandfather ever gave me.

The only thing that brought me an ounce of comfort.

My most cherished possession.

The only thing that was keeping me sane in this hellhole.

I had to find it.

I had left a trail of blood behind me. Finally I stood in front of one of the only places I had actively avoided in Meteor City. It was a large building by Meteor City standards, but it was still pretty small.

HQ of the so called Spiders. They were an up and coming gang that was already gaining some sway in the City due to their strength. The trail of bodies led me here. I hesitated for only a moment before barging into their HQ. I needed my violin.

Desperately.

"Where is it." I called out in a monotonous tone.

"Where's what?" Some guy in a dark outfit responded. He was currently lounging on a beat up couch, reading a book. He barely spared me a second glance.

"My violin." I deadpanned. Now he looked at me. Both of us seemed to have the same dead-eyed expression.

"I don't have it."

"Bullshit."

"Tch." He then turned his attention back to his book. I narrowed my eyes at him, my mind running a million miles a minute. He wasn't the only one here, that much I knew. It would be stupid for me to attack him, even if I could beat him in a one on one fight, which I wasn't even certain I could do.

"Where's your boss?" I asked.

"Upstairs." He responded, turning a page.

I pursed my lips at him before turning away and quickly finding a stairwell.

'I can tell we'll never get along. I hate that boy.'

I remained alert as I trekked up the stairs. Who knew what they would try to throw at me-

I dodged out of the way of what I could only assume was a giant. "What the hell?!" I exclaimed before quickly reschooling my expression.

"Ha!!! You're fast" Some insane man with an afro exclaimed, grinning at me. It looked like he was wearing fur? For pants?

"Um-" I started, furrowing my eyebrows at him.

"Less talking!" And with that, he ran at me again. I managed to move out of his way again, despite being in a stairwell.

"Why are we fighting?!" I exclaimed, frantically dodging.

"Why aren't you fighting!?!" The man exclaimed. He looked fucking feral!

"I'm not in the habit of fighting animals!" I retorted before narrowing my eyes. 'I'm not in the habit of dying, either.' With that thought in mind, I reached over my shoulder and pulled a ridiculously decorated dagger out of thin air.

'Killua's dagger.' I thought, unable to stop the flash of bitterness, or the shame that came immediately after.

Somehow his grin became even more feral as he charged at me again. I would really prefer to come at him from a distance, but I was in close quarters. I didn't have much of a choice.

This time I met his swing with my dagger, which extended in length a bit. I managed to deflect his blow so that my dagger was now pushing into his forearm. Strangely enough, it didn't cut him. It didn't take long to realize that I wouldn't be able to meet him blow for blow. His own brute strength far outweighed my own.

I pushed myself off of him and pivoted to the side, leaving him to crash into the wall as I took off up the rest of the stairs.

"Hey, get back here!" He shouted.

"No! You're like 40 years old, I'm not fighting you!" I shouted back. He actually only looked about 19, 20 at the most. I didn't know why I said that.

My eyes were wide as I kept running. Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered that my father would be ashamed of me for showing fear, so I schooled my expression.

"HEY YOU BRAT!" I heard him shout. I entered a hall and kept running straight ahead before crashing through the door. In hindsight I could have just opened it, but it looked like I could just break it, so why not. There was a man with dark hair and dark eyes sitting at a desk calmly.

He had a disarming smile on his face as he regarded me. His hair was straight and free of fly aways, but he had shaggy bangs. It led me to believe that he put a bit of care into his appearance, despite the fact that we lived somewhere that modern amenities were practically non-existent. I quickly drew my eyes away from his face to the top of his desk. Sitting there, in plain sight, was my violin case.

My mouth twitched towards a scowl before stilling as I marched up to the desk. "That belongs to me."

His expression didn't change from the very vision of tranquility that it was. "It didn't take you long to get here."

I snatched the case and narrowed my eyes at him. "Never take my things."

"I gave it back." He replied. It was pissing me off that he looked so nonplussed about all of this.

I closed my eyes for a second, my eyebrows twitching. "I took it back."

"If I wanted to keep it, I could have."

I kept my eyes closed. I was well aware of the fact that I was in danger. I couldn't take on all of these people.

I couldn't see them all, sure, but I was well aware of their presence. Yet another reason for me to keep my expression as still as possible.

"I believe that." I opened my eyes and met his gaze. "So what do you want?"

"Just to say hello." He responded.

I inhaled sharply. "Hello."

I hate him.

That wasn't the last time I saw Chrollo Lucilfer, as I later learned was his name. It wasn't the last time I saw any of the three members I had seen that day.

Chrollo I found lounging by one of the cleanest water sources we had, reading a book that I recognized from a glance. It was one of my absolute favorites. Before I realized was I was doing, I was approaching him and taking a seat next to him.

"Hello Ivela." He greeted, turning a page.

"Do you like that book?" I asked, not bothering to return his greeting.

"I wouldn't be reading it if I didn't."

I bristled, but calmed myself. It was a fair answer.

I kept sitting there in silence for a moment, trying to think of what to say. On one hand, I wasn't here to make friends. On the other, I had never seen anybody else reading that book, and my family certainly never discussed literature with me.

Chrollo, to his credit, didn't push me to either carry on the conversation or leave him alone. He just kept reading his book, either unbothered by my presence or patiently waiting for me to say something else.

"It's one of my favorites." I finally spoke, breaking the silence. The water was suddenly extremely interesting to me as I ran my hands through the dirt. "Have you finished it yet?"

"Yes. I'm rereading it." He replied. I felt his gaze finally land on me. "I'm curious, what did you think of-"

We talked about that book for hours that day. The two of us had, apparently, lost track of time. I stared after his retreating form with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows for a moment, before deciding that he wasn't bad company to keep after all.

I found the bad mannered guy when I followed the sound of blood curdling screams coming from somewhere nearby. Normally I wouldn't care about screams, but this one seemed somehow worse than usual.

When I found the source of the screams, it turned out to be the bad mannered guy from the Phantom Troupe building torturing someone who I didn't recognize.

I turned to walk away, deciding it was none of my business, when I noticed where he was cutting.

"It'll hurt more if you cut about an inch to the right." I stated. My expression remained neutral.

He said nothing, but, out of curiosity perhaps, did as I recommended. He was rewarded with louder screams.

The dead-eyed guy turned to look at me. Years of reading the members of my own family's expressions made it child's play to understand his unspoken question.

"You were just shy of hitting a group of nerve endings." I explained.

He regarded me for a moment. "I'm Feitan."

I nodded in response. "Ivela."

As it turned out, he knew some things about torture that I was unfamiliar with. We spent the day swapping techniques.

The barbarian actually found me. I was walking, scavenging for food when he chucked a beer can at my head. I caught it, of course. It took a second to register that he wasn't attacking me.

"Ivela! Have a drink with us!" The barbarian offered. He was accompanied by a tall man with a sword at his side.

I blinked. "I'm underage."

They laughed. "There's no laws here! Come on!" It was the tall one who spoke.

"Didn't you try to kill me?" I asked, still staring at the can.

"Pfffft. I wasn't tryna kill you!" The barbarian defended.

"Whatever." I said with a sigh. After a moment's debate, I popped open the can and chugged it down.

"Yeah! She's not a wuss!" One of them cheered.

The side of my mouth twitched. "It would take a lot more than that to get me drunk." Or even buzzed.

"Oh, I like this one. Come on, let's go drink some more!"

I found out the barbarian's name was Uvogin, and the tall one's name was Nobunaga. They were both incredibly irresponsible....but kind of fun to be around. I didn't mind drinking with them.

Apparently I was destined to keep running into members of the phantom troupe. The next one to approach me was a blonde woman with an odd nose in smart business attire. Something about her put me at ease. For a second.

I berated myself and raised my guard back up. Anyone who immediately makes you feel safe is probably out to kill you.

"Do you want something?" I asked her.

"I'm Pakunoda." She introduced. "I'm a member of the Phantom Troupe."

"Another one of you?" I muttered. "Are you all following me around for any particular reason?"

"We all have our own reasons." She deflected. "Mine is that I'm a fan of classical music."

I narrowed my eyes at her. I couldn't tell if she was lying or not.

"I'm not lying. Would you play something for me?" She requested.

I opened my mouth to tell her to get lost before I shut it. Had anyone ever asked me to play for them before?

I wasn't sure. I didn't think so. Why would she be interested in my music. Was she plotting something?

She had to be.

"Not today." I muttered, before walking away.

Pakunoda was persistent. She seemed to really want to hear me play. Or she was determined to kill me. I honestly wasn't sure which. Eventually, I caved and played for her. She didn't try anything, but I still didn't trust her.

It wasn't the last time she asked me to play for her. She seemed oddly fond of my music. I found myself looking forward to her asking me to play. It felt right to perform.

The last member I met was a girl about my age. Machi. She approached me out of the blue one day and started talking to me about random nonsense. I wasn't sure about her. But, I did find her easy to talk to. We seemed to have a lot in common. Probably because of our age. And our less than orthodox upbringings, respectively.

I stared at her one day. "Do you think I should dye my hair pink?" I wasn't sure what had made me want to do it, but I was tempted.

"What? Why?" She asked incredulously. She had been mid sentence when I interrupted her.

I shrugged in response.

"Also were you even listening to me?!"

I smirked sardonically at her in response.

Some time passes with me spending more and more time with the Troupe members. I didn't like them, of course, and they weren't my friends. I was just passing the time. Using them for entertainment. And because they were strong, it helped to be known as a friend of theirs's.

As I pondered on the fact that none of them were my friends and I wasn't fond of any of them, it occurred to me that I hadn't talked to Nobunaga in a while. That wouldn't do.

So I set off to go find him.

I was a pretty good tracker, so it didn't take me much time to find him. He seemed to be practicing his swordplay by himself.

"I could spar with you." I heard myself offer.

He stilled and regarded me with a hardened expression. "Do you even know anything about swords?"

"I know plenty." I responded. I was at least proficient with most weapons due to my upbringing. An assassin needs to know how to use any weapon available to them.

"Well then. Here!" And just like that, he tossed an unsheathed blade at me. I had no idea where he got it from, but I didn't have time to question it. No sooner had I caught it then he charged at me.

I blocked his swing, and we spent some time dancing around each other, steel clashing against steel. It was surprisingly fun.

I was holding my own just fine, but it was clear he was more talented with a blade than I was. I was constantly on the defensive. I managed to attack a few times, sure, but goddamn he was on a different level with his sword. It was honestly quite impressive.

I wondered how we would fare against each other in a nen battle. I almost wanted to try.

When the fight ended, it was because I was on my ass.

He was laughing. He was laughing at me.

I felt my face redden as my hands clenched into fists.

"Hey, don't be angry! You're great! Who taught you?" He asked as I stood up.

I was stunned. "You were laughing...because you were impressed?" That didn't make any sense.

"Yeah!" He replied.

"Uh." I was at a loss. "My...father and grandfather mostly handled my training." None of this made any sense. He was praising me for losing?

"They must be good." Nobunaga said. "I'd love to fight them."

I shifted my weight back and forth between my feet. "I think you'd die?" I told him. "They're, uh, assassins."

"You're an assassin?!" He exclaimed. I nodded at him, my hands fidgeting. He calmed down and paused. "Hm. That explains a lot."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding. I wasn't sure why I felt relieved. "Yeah. That's why I've had so much training."

"You and I should fight again sometime. Go ahead and keep that sword!" He offered with a disarming smile.

I tilted my head to the side slightly. "It's...a gift?"

"Yeah! Make sure to use it!"

I looked down at the sword in my hands, unable to comprehend him giving me a gift. I didn't expect to ever get any more gifts after being banished. I would make good use of it.

I always made good use of gifts.

A/N

Buckle up guys, we're gonna be in Meteor City for a while.

#Chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #hunter x hunter #chrollo x oc #ivela zoldyck #The Virtuoso

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