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queenshelby · 3 years ago

Text

My Friend’s Father (Part Seven)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

Words: 4,498

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

*********

Throughout the entire night, you couldn’t help but think about Cillian. You dreamed about the kiss you shared, the touch of his hands on your face and even the scent of his skin.

You knew you shouldn’t think this way about your best friend’s father but it was something you couldn’t control even though you were angry with him.

But there was one person you who you were even more angry with and this was Connor, the man you were actually dating.

You got up early that morning to confront Connor about his behaviour at the art gallery opening and the truth was that you were pretty much done with him. You never had feelings for him in the first place and the truth was that he had simply become a distraction for you. You wanted to distract yourself from having taken a liking in your best friend’s father which, in itself, you knew was wrong.

Connor embarrassed you in front of your friends and Cillian was right when he said that he was acting controlling, even though you didn’t want to hear it, especially not from him.

You knew you had to end it and you knew that it wasn’t going to be a difficult task for you. You had always been a strong woman and you didn’t want to be with someone like that and, just when you arrived at Connor’s house you took a deep breath and did what had to be done.

‘It’s your loss Y/N’ were his words when you eventually left his house after a ten minute conversation but you didn’t feel like you had lost anything. In fact, you’ve gained something and that was experience in standing up for yourself.

***

Just after you encounter with Connor that morning, you went to have breakfast with Denise and her friends at the G Hotel in Galway.

They were all staying at the five-star hotel, courtesy of Denise’s father who had organised the weekend for Denise for her birthday and as a reward for her achievements after she had worked so hard on her project.

‘Happy Birthday’ you said as you greeted her and the others and Denise immediately told you off for being too loud as her head was pounding. It was obvious to you that she was rather hungover from the night the before.

‘You had too much champaign, huh?’ you giggled before handing her the present you had bought for her.

You usually didn’t spend much money on each other for birthdays but, since she was your best friend, you had spent a few hours’ worth in wages and gotten her something meaningful.

She was collecting vintage tea-cups and you had recently found a beautiful Royal Dalton set in a second-hand shop which you knew she would adore.

‘This is absolutely beautiful, thank you so much’ Denise said as she unwrapped it before hugging you gently.

‘You are welcome. I knew you would like it’ you said with a warm smile and, just as you did and sat down next to her, your mobile phone went off.

You received a text message from a number that was unfamiliar to you and when you opened it, you were none the wiser.

‘It was good to see you’ the message said and you were rather confused by it. You had some job interviews recently and wondered whether this was sent by one of the interviewers. Or perhaps someone from university, you wondered?

‘What is it?” Denise asked as she saw the look of confusion on your face when you glanced at your phone.

‘Someone just send me a message saying that it was good to see me’ you chuckled before explaining to her that you didn’t know the number.

‘Maybe it is this guy from university you were talking about a few weeks back? You know, the lecturer in the science department?’ Denise wondered before suggesting to you that you should text back and ask for a name, but you already knew it wouldn’t be him. There was no way he would have your number and you certainly were no longer interested in getting to know him after you had found out that he was married.

You texted back to the unknown number, enquiring who this was and, within a couple of seconds, your phone went off again and you almost choked on your coffee.

‘Cillian’ the message read and you quickly changed the angle of your phone so that Denise wouldn’t see it.

‘And? Who is it?’ she asked while trying to look at your phone.

‘Uhm…just a guy I met a few weeks ago…I ran into him again yesterday morning and I totally forgot about it…’ you stammered quickly but Denise didn’t buy a word you were saying.

‘You forgot?’ she giggled, winking at you as she did and your cheeks blushed almost instantly. ‘Well, he obviously didn’t and you must have given him your number for a reason. Is he hot? What’s he like? I need to know everything…’ she went on to say as, suddenly, without you haven’t sent anything back to Cillian, you received yet another text message from him.

‘For what its’s worth, you looked beautiful’ the next text read and you couldn’t help but smile as you continued to sip on your cup of coffee and Denise most certainly noticed the look on your face and asked you what he said.

‘Just that I looked nice’ you stammered, feeling awful about lying to her about who texted you but there was no way that you could have told her that it was, in fact, her father who you were texting with.

‘Uh, he likes you’ Denise then giggled before carrying on. ‘Well, since you ditched Connor now, you should go and meet up with him and have some fun. After Connor’s one-off ten-minute performance, I have no doubt that you really need it’ Denise said and, just as she did, the conversation across the breakfast table took a turn. Like so often, it now was all about sex and you realised that dissatisfaction was a common occurrence in women your age.

‘I believe that the whole talk about the female g-spot is load of rubbish. It’s a myth’ Amalie observed eventually after everyone across the table complained about the lovers that they had.

It was at this point that you mentally checked out from the conversation and, whilst you thought about the one pleasurable experience you had in your life when it came to sex, you certainly didn’t want to talk about it in front of Denise. Especially not Denise.

Instead of engaging in talks about vibrators and the male anatomy, you decided to respond to Cillian’s text messages after you had received yet another one, telling you that he was sorry. Clearly, he was desperate to hear from you.

‘I see, you kept my note?’ you responded quickly, ignoring his compliments and apologies, and, just moments after you sent it, you received a response from him.

‘Kept it in my wallet. Can we meet?’ Cillian asked and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes just before you received yet another message from him which read ‘BTW this is not a booty call. I just want to talk with you. Please.’

His message made you laugh but you agreed to meet him nonetheless.

‘I have an apartment at the Docks. Can you come there?’ Cillian asked in his next text message.

‘Alright. How does 4 o’clock sound? Text me your address’ you texted back and it wasn’t long until Cillian sent you the address of his apartment.

‘And?’ Denise asked as she watched you text with the mysterious stranger and you simply blushed again and responded with a short and somewhat embarrassed ‘nothing’.

‘Oh common, tell me Y/N. I am your best friend’ she then said and you confirmed that you would quickly meet up with him this afternoon before Denise’s birthday dinner.

‘Oh la la, you are having a date’ Denise then said somewhat excitedly.

‘We are just catching up to talk Denise. It’s not a date’ you then said.

‘Sure…whatever you say Y/N’ she then said sarcastically which is when, finally, she backed off and you received yet another text message from Cillian.

‘Looking forward to see you, xx’ it read and your heart skipped a beat pretty much then and there.

***

After you went home to have a shower and get changed into some nice jeans and a black shirt as well as some nice lingerie (just in case) you made your way to Cillian’s apartment.

You parked around the corner and walked the rest of the way just to be sure that no one would see your car being parked there.

‘Jesus’ you said somewhat surprised when you walked into the lobby of the apartment building and took the elevator to the top floor after Cillian had buzzed you inside. You had never been to a building like this. It was luxurious and right on the harbour.

When you arrived on the top floor, Cillian already waited for you, glancing through the door of his apartment.

‘Wow, these are some good views. Do you own this place?’ you observed as you stepped inside and set your purse on the desk by the door.

‘Yeah, bought it a few years ago’ Cillian said as you began to shrug off your jacket, but Cillian came up from behind you, and caught your hands. You looked down at your hands, noticing that yours dwarfed in his. They were warm and soft.

‘Let me take this for you’ he said like a gentleman and you were somewhat surprised by his gesture. This was not something you were used to but you liked it, a lot.

‘You know, I didn’t expect that you would text me, especially not after last night. So, what is it that you want to talk about?’ you asked nervously and, just as you did, Cillian cut straight to the chase.

‘I wanted to tell you, in person, that I am sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have lectured you about this guy who you are seeing and the truth is that, yes, I was jealous and I know that I had no right to be jealous and for that I am also sorry. I should have acted differently, especially knowing that you are my daughter’s best friend’ he admitted just before you cut him off.

‘Well, for what its worth, I ended it with Connor this morning because I think you were right about him’ you said with a nervous smile, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow.

‘I can’t say that I am not happy about that’ he said jokingly before continuing on. ‘But, regardless of this, I think that we need to talk about how we move forward from what happened between us for Denise’s sake’ he then said, causing you to nod.

‘Yeah’ you then said somewhat disappointed before building up your strength in order to say something else. ‘The thing is, Cillian, I know what I want. I just think that you don’t’ you said, cheeks blushing.

‘And what is that you want Y/N?’ Cillian asked curiously as if he didn’t already know the answer to his question.

‘You’ you then admitted and, just as you did, Cillian’s hands caressed your face and he pulled you close and kissed you yet again.

The kiss was slow and passionate and, unlike the night before, you allowed yourself to give into it until, eventually, your lips drifted apart.

‘Are you sure Y/N? Because, I am much older than you and you probably have better offers with more assurances that I simply cannot offer you’ Cillian then asked as he was standing directly in front of you and held you against his body.

‘The fact that you are older actually turns me on’ you admitted before pressing your lips onto his again and then pulling away. You adored his wrinkles and greying hair and you were surprised that he had no idea how attractive he actually was.

‘But what is it that you want Cillian?’ you then asked as you felt his firm chest against you while his warm breath fanned against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

‘Honestly, I don’t know Y/N. I have never been so fucking confused in my life’ he explained reluctantly, not knowing where to place the feelings he had built for you. You were over twenty years younger than him and his daughter’s friend and this clearly bothered him. He knew that this wasn’t something he could easily overcome.

‘Well, I am confused too but I like you, a lot’ you admitted, also unsure about what this was that you were feeling for him but, what you knew was that you wanted to give whatever this was a chance. You were curious and you were filled with desire for this man standing there right in front of you.

‘And I need to know that you feel the same and that this isn’t going to be just another mistake you are making because, if you are going to walk away after we have sex, then I am not up for it’ you then explained, wanting to ensure that he wouldn’t pull away from you this time.

‘No more mistakes Y/N. I like you and I want this’ Cillian whispered as he pressed his lips firmly right under your ear, slowly kissing down your neck.

‘I want you’ he then said as his breath tickled your skin and the firmness of his kiss made your stomach flip.

‘Then that’s good enough for me’ you huffed out in a laboured breath and just, as you did, Cillian used his hands to spin you around, causing you to face away from him.

Then, his hands dropped to your waist where his fingers gently edged themselves under the hem of your shirt, barely touching your skin. His lips moved, and he left a trail of kisses down your shoulder and towards your arm.

‘I knew this was a booty call’ you teased as you couldn't help but move against him.

‘Do you want to stop?’ he asked as your hips rocked and shifted while he gently brushed his fingers against your skin.

‘Hell no’ you giggled before you lifted your arms and he began to pull your shirt up.

You felt like you were performing some secret dance that we both knew, but that you'd never realised you'd known.

Cillian lifted your shirt inch at a time up off you, and let it fall to the floor. He sighed in satisfaction as he looked down at your breasts.

‘Why are you so fucking perfect?’ Cillian asked and you opened your mouth to answer but it came out as a sigh as his hands tightened around your waist.

‘Let’s take this off’ Cillian said determined as one of his hands inched up towards your breast, and he squeezed it gently. Then, his hands came away from you, and unsnapped your bra.

You practically shook it off of you, and then dropped your hands to your jeans. You needed his hands back on you again as soon as possible and turned to watch him as you kicked your shoes off and shoved down your jeans, your underwear coming with them.

‘Eager, are we?’ Cillian chuckled as he quickly began to undress himself as well after you had given him a look full of hunger and anticipation.

‘We are short of time’ you said as you were momentarily distracted by the sight of him unbuttoning his shirt, but you hurried to kick off the fabric wrapped around your ankles.

‘We’ve got at least two and a half hours Y/N’ Cillian then said as you finally stood there in front of him completely naked.

‘Exactly’ you chuckled as Cillian was still fighting with the buttons on his shirt, and you grabbed the fabric of it and pulled him against you, crushing your mouth against his.

Cillian made love to your mouth with his lips and his tongue. He was firm, slow, and demanding.

You breathed together, tasted together. He dragged a soft moan from your mouth with a caress of his lips. He explored you, letting his tongue run along the roof of your mouth. Your teeth crashed. He sucked your tongue into his mouth, and your stomach clenched and you let out an embarrassingly desperate sound.

Before your first night with Cillian, you'd never been kissed like this. The kisses you shared were more intimate and more sensual than anything you'd ever experienced in your life.

As you were kissing, you finally managed to unbutton his shirt and shoved it open. Your hands ran up and down his chest, exploring his toned body all the while he was relentless in his kiss. His arms wrapped around you, one hand pressing into the small of your back, and the other working his fingers into your hair.

With a small tug of your hair, he pulled your face away from him.

‘I could kiss you all day Y/N, but you said that we are short of time so you better get onto the bed’ he winked and you snaked your arms around his neck and kissed him while he walked you back into his bedroom and towards the bed.

As you were moving towards the bed, he fought with his belt and his pants all while his lips never left yours.

You shuffled awkwardly backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed, forcing you to sit down. You kept your arms behind you to prop yourself up, smiling as you watched him finish undressing. He was just gorgeous and so goddamn perfect.

‘You are so sexy, you know that?’ you said full of desire while you watched as he pushed his pants down, kicking them off his ankles and standing in front of you completely naked, and... Sweet. Baby. Jesus…your mouth watered at the sight of his hard cock.

‘So are you’ he winked and, just as he did, you met his eyes again after having stared at his cock for a little while. That terrifying intense stare was back, and he looked like he was going to eat you alive. For all you knew, he would.

Without breaking eye contact, Cillian bent down and went to his knees at the foot of the bed, grabbed your legs, and pulled you closer to him, spreading your legs wide as he did so.

‘Lay back’ he ordered and you couldn’t help but bite your lip in anticipation.

‘What are you going to do to me?’ you asked as he was still staring at you. A slow smile graced his face.

‘I am going to make love to you with my tongue until you cum’ Cillian smirked and the idea of his face between your legs made your breath catch.

‘Oh, Sweet Jesus’ you moaned as he let go of one of your legs and put a hand on your shoulder. He pushed you back and then he lowered his lips to you.

Sweet bliss washed over you in an instant. You gasped, and moaned, and shivered. Cillian lapped at you like you were the sweetest treasure he'd ever put in his mouth. A slow, deep rumble from his chest travelled straight into your body through his lips, shaking you to your core. His tongue dove inside you, exploring you. He sucked on the lips of your sex, and the circled his tongue around your clit, sending powerful shocks of pleasure straight to your centre.

He was building you up to something big. Something beautiful.

He eased off right before you exploded, and you cried out.

‘Cillian, don't stop, please’ you moaned and, just as you began to plead with him, his fingers began to gently run through your wet slit.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t’ he said as he slowly pushed two of his fingers inside you before his tongue resumed its work on your clit.

Curling his fingers slightly upwards, he reached an unfamiliar spot deep inside you and, as soon as he reached this spot, you cried out in pleasure.

‘Oh god, fuck, Cillian’ you moaned as his fingers began to gently thrust in and out of you while he made love to you with his tongue.

With his skilled tongue and fingers working you, it didn’t take you long to reach an orgasm. Your legs began to shake almost violently as a wave of pleasure erupted through your body and your walls tightened around Cillian’s fingers.

When you finally came down from your high, Cillian stood up, pushed his hands against your hips, and slid you farther onto the bed.

‘You sound so fucking sexy when you cum like this, without having to hold back’ Cillian observed as he climbed onto the bed. He crawled towards you like a wolf stalking his prey.

‘I want you inside me, please…I am aching for your cock’ you moaned, spurring him on and, without losing any time he spread your legs wide and pressed the head against your slit, gently working the tip in and out, teasing you.

‘Oh god, please, stop teasing’ you whimpered, trying to wiggle against him. You wanted to feel all of him so badly.

‘Be patient, we will get there’ he whispered, and leaned forward so his arms were on either side of your face.

You felt him push a little deeper into you.

‘Oh god yes’ you gasped and winced and Cillian tilted his head and took your mouth with his, kissing you slowly as he rocked in and out. His lips and his tongue matched the pace of his thrusts, and you felt overwhelmed with desire as he slid deeper and deeper inside of you.

‘Fuck you feel so good Y/N’ Cillian groaned as he stretched you and pushed you until he was all the way in, and he pulled his mouth away from yours just long enough to let out a string of curses before he took your mouth again.

You couldn't breathe. Everything about him was amazing. The way he felt inside you was just perfect.

He held your head firmly in place as he kissed you, thrusting into you and grinding his hips so that he hit every single spot you didn't even know you had. Right as you were nearing your climax, he pulled all the way out and pushed himself off of you, pausing to catch his breath.

‘No…don’t stop…I was so close’ you whimpered.

‘Don’t worry, I am not done with you yet but I do enjoy teasing you’ he gasped and you could tell that he enjoyed edging you which is something no other man you have been with had ever done to you before. Unlike them, Cillian had amazing self-control which you thought might come with age.

Almost an hour later, after he edged you numerous times and made you change positions on several occasions, you ended up with Cillian on top of you once again. He slid back inside you, resuming his relentless pace. With every thrust, he ground his pelvis against your clit, and with only a few careful movements of his hips, you exploded in pleasure around him. There was no way you could have held back any longer as waves of heat and ice crashed onto you, and you fought to breathe through the intensity of your orgasm.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian groaned shortly thereafter, feeling your walls contract around his shaft. He collapsed forward onto you, and you could feel him pulsing inside you and filling you with rope after rope of his warm cum.

You loved the feeling of him cuming inside you and his breath was hot against your neck, and he kissed your neck and your mouth again as he pulled back and out of you, giving you a chance to breathe.

***

‘Cillian’ you whispered, barely able to speak even after five minutes had passed since you came down from your high.

‘Yes Beautiful?’ he said, and moved slightly so he could wrap his lips around your nipple. He sucked and tongued at it, and pulled at it with his teeth.

‘Careful’ you laughed, and shifted under him slightly. ‘I’m super sensitive now’ you said.

‘I certainly hope so’ he murmured. ‘Although, I am not done with you yet. We still have an hour before dinner’ he smirked and your eyes widened immediately.

‘Oh really?’ you asked surprised and, when you looked down on him, you noticed that his cock was already hardening again just after a short five minutes of relaxation.

‘Really’ Cillian then chuckled as he rolled you onto your stomach, spreading your legs and crouching behind you.

Without losing any time, he lined himself up with your entrance and pushed back inside of you, eliciting a loud groan.

After doing you from behind for what felt like forever, he'd hauled you up into his lap and made love to you with his arms around you and our foreheads pressed together. You'd watched his eyes widen and roll back in his head as he came inside you again just after you reached your own high as well.

He then kissed you as he slowly pulled out of you, and then carried you in his arms like a bride into the bathroom where he'd showered you, washed your hair and your body, and treated you to another mind-blowing orgasm with his fingers.

‘I am fucking sore Cillian’ you huffed out as you were standing in front of the mirror and retouched your make up with a white towel wrapped around your body. You had only limited supplies with you in your handbag but were somewhat lucky that Denise had kept a few items in one of the bathrooms in the three-bedroom apartment.

‘I am sorry’ he then said as he stepped behind you and applied some more aftershave before kissing your neck.

‘Are you?’ you asked, looking back at him before pressing a gentle kiss on his lips.

‘Not really’ he then smirked before buttoning up his shirt.

You knew that you couldn’t arrive at the dinner together and, after you got ready, you decided to walk to the restaurant first so that Cillian would allow you a ten-minute head start.

But walking was difficult in itself and Cillian had a slight chuckle when he watched you waddle out of his apartment.

Your core was stinging but it was defiantly worth it.

Tag List:

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@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon @ysmmsy

#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

259 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

Note

Hey Vy! 📚🌻 Here!

How is your week going? My roller skates just got here and I'm so happy omg! My protective gear haven't got here yet so I'm trying not to fall but a almost hit my face so many times- i have to stop for some time now because I need to clean my room :_: but here's your three words of this week: Paradise, curly, radio

A lot a lot looot of loveee,

📚🌻.

Hi darling 📚🌻 !

Please be extra careful until your protective gear arrives, I'd hate to hear you've injured yourself 🥺 Anyways, hope you have fun with your roller skates (always stay safe though)! 🥰

Here comes a short drabble with your three words! This one’s gonna be a little different though - no OCs and not for the Resident Evil fandom, but rather the How To Get Away With Murder fandom, more specifically - for my favorite relatioship/characters on the show! Hope you enjoy!

All my love, Vy 💌

Better

Laurel Castillo x Frank Delfino (How To Get Away With Murder - AU: Canon Divergence; AU where the characters tolerate each other XD)

Warnings: Slight spoilers (Nothing too major though), Swearing

Laurel runs a hand through Chris’ curly hair, admiring how peaceful he looks now that he’s finally asleep. He’s got a fever that’s been giving him crying fits for two days now. Having to deal with a sick two-year-old while simultaneously trying to keep up with work and her final studies has been exhausting to no end. She’s been receiving some help from Michaela who seems utterly desperate to keep herself busy at all times, even when she’s supposed to be relaxing just so her mind doesn’t spiral into the void of loneliness she’s fallen victim to as of recent. Connor and Ollie have babysat for her a few times as well, another gesture she’s incredibly grateful for. Asher has offered to look after the toddler too on numerous occasions but that’s one offer Laurel’s never taken up. She appreciates him offering her his help, but everyone would justify this action of hers considering how reckless Asher can be at times - aka 90% of the time.

The Keating 5 has come through for her when it comes to both looking after Chris and keeping up with her studies, proving their friendship to be one of those rare ones. However, Keating 5 aside, she’s received the most amount of help from one particular person. Someone who’s prepared to turn up at her doorstep at three in the morning if she needs him.

Frank Delfino

The two had a rocky start, to say the least. Their on-again-off-again relationship as colleagues with benefits. Their constant back and fourth. Then came Frank’s disappearance and Laurel’s involvement with Wes, all occurrences blowing huge holes not only in their romantic relationship but also their friendship which has always been a second away from ceasing to exist, all things considered. Friendship is hard to maintain with such a strong, hypnotic and magnetic romantic connection. Some people just weren’t meant to be friends, ever. Frank and Laurel are among them.

Speaking of Frank, the man’s been rather concerned lately, the lack of calls and messages from Laurel worrying him more with each passing day. He overheard Michaela mention Chris’ fever in passing conversation with Asher when she was bailing on a date with the excuse of helping Laurel look after the sick toddler. He’d been surprised to hear that, initially thinking it was a cheap excuse of Michaela’s to avoid spending time with Asher considering things between them have grown sort of complicated. But when Connor confirmed this claim of hers, Frank couldn’t help but grow very concerned. He’s grown used to knowing what’s going on with Chris and Laurel before everyone else so having someone else be in the know while he was kept in the dark made him feel oddly jealous and hurt.

And he could only hold his worries and assumptions at bay so long...

Responding to the knock at the door, knowing who it probably is at this hour, Laurel contemplates whether opening the door would be the right thing to do. She’s double-checked that it is indeed him, that bringing her more uncertainty than comfort, oddly enough. She’s been doing her best to distance herself from him and his life for quite a while now. She’s been meaning to give him an opportunity at a normal life, away from her mess and chaos. She’s been wanting to give him an escape from the fiasco she always finds herself dragging him into.

But he still comes back to her, by his own choice.

“Laurel, it’s me.“ His coarse voice reaches her from the other side of the door.

“Yeah...“ She trails off, forcing her hand up to turn the lock, “...I know.“

Opening the door reveals the concern on his face a lot better than she saw through the peephole. It makes her heart swell up and all she wants to do is throw her arms around him in a tight embrace. But she can’t do that, she won’t. She’s not willing to give him any reason to hold onto her whatsoever. In her eyes, he deserves a lot better. And maybe he does, but he doesn’t want anything or anyone better.

“Hey...“ he mutters, unsure of how to start of the interaction. Things have never been easy between them and, looking back, it seems like they’ve only gotten harder. Somehow, their connection has only grown stronger though. A connection he wants to uphold and a connection she wants to sever.

“Hey...What are you doing here so late?“ Ok, that’s a sustainable question considering it’s 10PM, but then again he’s come to her apartment at odder hours. Only difference is, those other times, she called him over.

“Though I’d check on you. You’ve been rather dead with calls and texts recently. Also missed Chris, heard he had a fever so I got worried.“ She hears the undertone of accusation in his voice loud and clear. It makes her bite her lip with guilt she wishes she wasn’t feeling, especially when she’s supposed to be doing the right thing.

You can’t decide for him. If he wants to keep coming back, that’s on him.

That thought hasn’t crossed her mind yet. It almost feels like she’s letting herself off the hook, feeding into the temptation to embrace what her and Frank have.

“You hungry?“ Now that is a bit more out-of-place question, but it’s accompanied by her taking a step back to allow him inside, “I ordered Thai food I never got to finish.“

He follows the signal, growing a bit more hopeful now that she’s let him in the apartment, thinking maybe she isn’t avoiding him after all. “Loss of appetite?”

“Partly.“ She replies, hearing the click of Frank locking the front door before following her in the kitchen where the hanging lights are dimmed. “Chris was throwing a fuss all day, I couldn’t really do much but focus on him.“ She motions to the living room where the coffee table is littered with sheets of paper and highlighters, some of which have found a spot on the floor as well. “Not to mention the ton of crap I need to do for school and work.“

“Would’ve been a lot easier on you had you called me, you know?“ He comments, walking over to the fridge, taking out the two packs of Thai takeout, suggesting she had been expecting him. She wasn’t really, she was just quietly hoping he’d show up at her doorstep.

“Didn’t wanna bother you. It’s nothing serious, a simple cold, I can handle it.“ She replies, approaching the small vintage radio in the corner of the kitchen counter, turning it on to a quiet volume so some tunes could fill the silences that are bound to occur frequently with the amount of tension between them.

“You could never bother me, Laurel. I’ve told you countless times before...“ putting the food he’s now moved onto a large plate into the microwave and turning the machine on, he turns to look at her, “I love Chris like he’s my son. In my eyes, he is my son and I love him with all my heart. Just like I love you.“

Instead of allowing the deafening quiet to take over them again - the soft music from the radio aside - Laurel lets the loudness of her mind surface. She lets it seep through the barriers she built in order to protect herself and protect everyone around her from herself: “Do you never stop to think you deserve better, Frank? Better than some grown-ass woman with her life in shambles and a kid whose father’s dead. Do you not think you deserve someone who knows what they want and where they’re headed with their life? Someone who...” her confidence is slowly leaving her to fend for herself and so she does, the best she can. “Someone who can cook and do their projects and work and take care of her son simultaneously. Someone better, Frank! Do you never want someone better?”

She hadn’t realized her eyes had been darting all over the place, looking everywhere but at him. How that her gaze has once again landed on his face, she feels her stomach turn at what she sees. That concerned, hurt and disappointed frown only further fuels her guilt, making her wish she’d never opened the door in the first place.

“Laurel, where’s this all coming from? Did Bonnie say something to you cause if she did...“ she cuts him off.

“No, she didn’t. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now actually. All I am to you is trouble and a burden and...“ he gets back at her, cutting her off himself.

“And you’re none of those things, Laurel. Your view of yourself is interfering with your perception of this, of us, of what we have. You and Chris are my family. The family I choose. It’s not about deserve or idealism - it’s about what brings you joy and makes you feel complete. What and who makes you feel at home. Who is your home.“ Always cautious of her personal space, Frank takes a hesitant step towards her and another when she doesn’t back away. “Lord knows it’s no paradise, but what we have is special, Laurel, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in this world.“

Against her best attempts at keeping her emotions at bay, Laurel feels her eyes brimming with tears as she gazes up at the man she’s never been in the clear with. She never realizes what he means to her until it’s too late. She only realized she loved him when he disappeared. She only realized he meant the world to her when he had already slipped from her grip. And she refuses to continue that pattern.

Instead, she’ll work on finding out what they are exactly and even if she doesn’t reach that epiphany, she’ll still embrace it, no matter the oddity and unfamiliarity of it all.

“Thank you.“ she manages to whisper past the knot in her throat.

“Don’t thank me, you should never thank me for the things I do for you or Chris. I choose to do them. I choose to be here. I choose you because I want you. You and no one else, Laurel.“

Just then, the microwave beeps, alerting the two that their close-to-midnight meal is warmed up. Taking the plate out and placing it on the counter to cool down a little, he turns to her with a small smile on his face, “Let’s see what’s so troubling about that project of yours, shall we?”

And just like that, the tension has lifted, allowing for a smile to appear on her face as well. That ease of the mind is not something she’s been very used to throughout her life, constantly having shit to worry about and people to deal with. That’s why she’s never wanted to be a burden on someone’s back. She’s never wanted to be a major part in someone’s life, at least not until she gets her shit together.

And although she might never get her shit together, she’s got someone she loves and someone who loves her by her side. Lord knows he hasn’t been on top of his own shit either. At least they’ll be figuring it all out together.

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reddahliaa · 5 years ago

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Enigma | Chapter 1

I didn't hit my 5000 words mark. It may seem rushed, so I do apologize. English is not my first language, and there may be some grammar and spelling mistakes.

Words: 3.3K

Enigma

Chapter 1

In Plain Sight

-20 hours ago-

“I want you to find her. After that, I’ll give you the power you desire.” The doctor requested the newly appointed king. He sat in his cushioned chair with Johnny on his lap, tweaking the little nomu. A photograph of a young girl can be seen on the large computer screen, which reflected on the glass tube the High Ends were. From an outsider’s perspective, it almost looks like a funeral yet at the same time a shrine. A shrine an obsessed, deranged man worships, Daruma Ujiko.

Ujiko stared at the photo with such sick affection in his eyes, fully aware of Shigaraki’s need for the research he put his life into. But he won’t give him that so easily. No, no, no, Ujiko wants something in return. He wants Shigaraki has to find you, the young girl in the photograph.

It’s been eight long years since Ujiko last saw you. You were just a mere teenager filled with life in your eyes, always so happy, which could make anyone’s day. But then one summer night, you just disappeared. Gone without a trace. Like you never existed. During those eight years, Ujiko didn’t just sit there, he desperately searched for you, but in the end, he couldn’t find you.

Not even your dead body.

“She should be grown by now. The picture I gave you was taken when she was just 14.” Ujiko continued talking to Shigaraki through the earpiece, while still tweaking the small Nomu.

“Don’t you have anything new?” Shigaraki asked the doctor, Ujiko could hear a slight annoyance in his voice. He must be referring to the picture he gave the young boy. The picture was old, and he even said it himself, you should be all grown up by now. Ujiko place Johnny on the floor and looked at the photograph. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he stared at your eyes. You looked so tired in the picture, after all, it was taken first thing in the morning.

“I told you, she’s been missing for 8 years. She was just starting high school when I last saw her. That’s the only one I have of her.” Ujiko lied.

“Why do you want to find her all of a sudden?” Shigaraki questioned the doctor, who laughed at his childish question.

“You need a medic, don’t you?”

Shigaraki needs a cold drink. Thinking about the girl Ujiko requested to find was giving him a headache. He was so close, so fucking close, yet so far away from the powers he craves for. You were between him and that power: The years of research, countless nomu and whatever else the doctor has up his sleeve. All that could be his right here and now if it weren’t for you. You were also between him and the reproduction of the quick erasing bullet.

“Get me a drink” Shigaraki demand Re-Destro for a drink, which the odd-looking man was more than happy to oblige. Quickly rushing out of the room to get his Grand Commander something to drink.

“Damn her,” Sigaraki muttered when Re-Destro left the room. The silence of the room was filled with the aura of frustration Shigaraki was giving off and the vintage ticking of a wooden clock... He needs to find you as soon as possible.

Shigaraki is currently in the main meeting room of Paranormal Liberation Front; only the Grand Commander and Lieutenants have access to. This room will hold every single meeting, plans, or whatever the hell the Grand Commander needs each Lieutenant for. It was his Throne room.

The Symbol of Terror sat in the center chair, which Toga referred to as his throne, which was at the end of the long, black glass table. It was the most expensive chair in the meeting room, which was made out of leather and screamed: “I’m the leader”. Mr. Compress said Shigaraki reminded him of an Italian mafia boss.

Shigaraki took out his phone and searched for the picture the doctor gave him. He observed your foreign features, you don’t look Japanese yet you wore a Japanese uniform. Were you studying in Japan? How were you related to the doctor? He zooms in to the logo in your chest. It was a bit hard to read but it was there:

-Tokyo Kajii High School-

“Well, that’s a starting point.” Shigaraki rejoices at the sight of the yellow tread logo.

His finger accidentally touches the picture, which rolls up the picture to your eyes. Shigaraki red eyes stare at your pixelated ones, and deep within his raging heart, something wakens.

An alien-like and dangerous feeling.

Shigaraki knows deep down the doctor was hiding something from him.

“Hey,” Shigaraki called out to Re-Destro, who came back into the meeting room, his hand holding a bottle of wine and a clean glass.

“Y-Yes?” Re-destro, who has his attention immediately on Shigaraki, stutter in front of his leader.

“I need your men to find her,” Shigaraki ordered, holding the picture of the girl.

“She goes by (F/N, L/N).” Shigaraki continued giving your name to the pointy nose man.

“I’ll get to it right away.” With that said Re-Destro bolt to get the job done.

“Skeptic should be able to find her immediately.” Re-Destro thought as maneuver his way through the maze-like hallway. Shigaraki meanwhile took the bottle of wine and pour some for himself. It tastes disgusting and bitter, but even with the disgusting taste of the wine in his throat, his lips curl into a wicked smile.

He stared at her photograph again.

“She hid for eight long years.”

But not for long.

>>Main Quest Acquired<<

>>Find the Girl<<

-Four days later-

-Two days before New Years-

11:30 pm

Lately, Shigaraki found himself staring at her photos a lot recently, and he doesn’t understand why. Was it her expression? Her foreign looks? There’s a lot of foreigners in Japan, yet she captured his eyes. What is it? He doesn’t know and it’s beginning to get annoying.

The hunt was taking so long, Shigaraki silently applauds her for hiding for so long. She has gone eight years without behind found. Most of her documents turned up nothing like she never existed. Her high school was shut down 4 years ago, and every single file on her “vanished”. There was no record of her family either, but there was something even she failed to notice in her “flawless” hiding.

In Japan, there are two individuals that go by (F/N) Lee and Juliet (L/N). Both of them foreigners, and both of them are the same age as the girl. One of them turns out not to his girl, he doesn’t have any news on Juliet (L/N) yet. As Shigaraki stood in front of the large window, where the moon and stars twinkle across the mountain range, he couldn’t help but feel good about tonight.

Tonight could be the day they find you.

In a room hidden away in the large hideout, a tall and lanky man can be heard typing away rapidly. The darkroom was filled with the rapid typing sound and the exhaust fan from the computer console.

“We finally found her after four days of searching and she was hiding in plain sight.” The long banged man stated while typing away at his keyboard.

They found you.

“It’s amazing how many precautions she took to hide. I mean, she used two different identities.” Another man with slick black hair and small mustache said while looking at one of the many computer screens. He stared at the old picture of the girl Shigaraki ordered to hunt down and the new ones his fellow Paranormal Liberation Front Lieutenants finally found.

The first thing that caught his eyes was her foreign looks and her emotionless expression. He began to compare both the older photograph and the most recent one. She still had the same emotionless expression, and yet her features had grown with her.

She’s absolutely breathtaking.

In one photograph, which was taken from a distant, She wore a plain white dress shirt and black pants which was taken in a quiet cafe in Tokyo called Meo’s. There’s also this one the man held in his hand, staring with a slight twinkle in his eyes, it's almost like she was surprised at whoever that took the picture. Almost. She still wore her stoic expression.

As the man stares at the closeup photo, He could feel the blood rushing from his heart to his cheeks. His face was heating up as he stared at her bright eyes. His stare slowly began to travel down her luscious lips, which was tinted slightly in red lipstick. Perverted thoughts began to creep in his mind, only for the sound of paper printing snapped the man out of his stare.

“She’s working for Yamada! AH!”

“Calm down, Skeptic.”

“I am calm, Trumpet!” Skeptic’s reply was quick, but his expression was filled with great annoyance. But Trumpet knows how much Skeptic loathe Yamada Crop. The Feel Good, Inc. and the Yamada Crop. has been rival for so long, and anything that has to do with the Yamada Crop. pissed the living life out of him.

“Who’s going to go get her?” Skeptic asked as he waited for the papers to finish printing.

“I don’t know yet, Whoever he gives the order, I guess.” Trumpet answered. It all due respect to the New Grand Commander, Trumpet does not want to receive that order. As much as he wants the feeling of her skin on his, forcing her to come with him, He already has his plate full for the upcoming election...next year. But Trumpet knows he’s lying to himself, he doesn’t want her to dislike him...at all.

“I’ll hand these in. And I just hope it isn’t me.” Skeptic said in a calmly matter and got up from his chair. He took out a folder from the desk and placed all the paper in it, and wrote her name on the front in katakana.

Trumpet meanwhile looked at the most recent picture of the young girl--no...the woman. He secretly hopes she’ll come willingly without any fights, he doesn’t want her pretty face to be a wreck.

Back in the empty meeting room, Shigaraki look through the folder Skeptic just handed to him. It was filled with endless information about her current life. She works for the Yamada Crop: a giant multimedia company, which explains how she could live in Grand Garden Luxury Apartment in the Greater Tokyo Metropolitan area.

“She was hiding in plain sight.” Shigaraki thought to himself while staring at her most recent photograph. He took a pic of her and sent it to the doctor. He looked through another paper, an invitation to an event that she’ll be in.

The Yamada Crop has invited you to our annual New Years Party. There will be a live performance, food--

He stopped reading. It took four days, four fucking days, but here she is. He looked at her most recent photo once again, and a malicious smile crept on his face.

She most certainly has grown.

He must see you in person in New Years.

The soft piano from Clair De Lune can be heard in the cold laboratory. One of the computer screens had a picture of a young girl, and next to that was another picture of the same girl...but grown. Ujiko walked toward his chair with an old leather photo album in his arms, which held some of his most treasured memories.

You.

Those wonderful years he spent with you meant everything to him. Watching you grow whenever he visits. Whenever you would visit him, filling his day with joy and happiness. The way you would waddle your way to his embrace. The memories of you playing the piano for him with a peaceful smile on your face.

-Tempo rubato-

And he’ll never forget the day when you awaken your quirk.

What a beautiful day that was. The horror in your face when you couldn’t control it, your scream echoed throughout the neighborhood, sobbing and screaming in your mother’s arm as she tried to comfort you.

And the car-size crater you left behind.

Oh, how he regrets not turning you into a Nomu back than! But to his relief, back than Nomu was just a concept, an idea, that he never imagined would ever come true. But soon, that idea came to flourish, and it was beautiful.

The day he went to your house, that was supposed to be filled with laughter and happiness, was empty and silent. Shelves were knocked down, books scattered everywhere. The glass windows were shattered, letting in the cold air of the night. The pictures of you and your family were broken on the wooden floor. There was a faint smell of gasoline lingered through the hallways. And there was blood. The house looked like a massacre and for the first time in his life, Ujiko felt an alien feeling running through his vein: fear.

He lost you.

That was the day he wanted to use your quirk to make nomu, it was going to be his offering to his lord: All For One. The Nomu with your quirk...with your DNA, would’ve been more perfect than the High Ends.

You were supposed to be the mother to all of the perfect nomu. But as he looks through the baby pictures of you, Ujiko was happy he scrapped that plan. He got a better plan in mind. He’ll still put you to good use, no doubt.

Ujiko hopes you can bring his God back to his prime.

Once he's done with you, you’ll be offered up to All for One.

Ujiko turned off the music and contact Shigaraki once more. If you’re going to be here, then he’ll need one more piece for this reunion.

“I have one more job for you...I need you to bring me Nines…”

Two train ride away in Tokyo, pass the park that leads to the Grand Garden apartments, your eyes snapped open, heart pounding in your chest like a drum. You were breathing heavily, your hair was sticking to your sweaty face. Your eyes were red from waking up suddenly, stinging as you blinked rapidly.

You had a nightmare again. A nightmare about him, and the incident from the summer night. These nightmares were almost like a memory you relieved over and over and over again.

It is a memory.

You heard children playing outside, and the light trying to peek through the curtains. You breathing soon calmed down, the pounding of your heart went back to normal. But your clean and quiet apartment was soon filled with the buzzing of your phone.

“It’s already morning?” You thought as you sat up on your bed and grabbed your phone; There are 2 missed calls, 4 text messages, and 2 emails from your workplace.

It was January 1st, 3:00 pm.

“I overslept…” You muttered to yourself, which sounded more like a question. Normally you would wake up early and get on with your days. You check the missed call, which was from your boss: Shuichi Yamada. It was supposed to be your day off, so you wonder why he was calling you. You called him and waited patiently for him to pick up. He was a busy man, so it didn’t surprise you when the phone went straight to voicemail.

“He’ll call me back...In the meantime, I’ll take a shower.” You said to yourself and began to stretch when you got up. The satisfying sound of your bones cracking would tell outsiders that you had a good night rest but in reality, you felt the exact opposite. You’re still so exhausted, both physically and mentally. You wanted to go back to bed and sleep for a few more hours, but that wasn’t healthy. You have to get up and start with your day.

Your feet began to move toward the bathroom, the cold hardwood floor gave an odd sensation on the warm sole of your feet. Once you entered the bathroom, you shut and locked the door. Even in the privacy of your own home, you tend to lock the bathroom out of habit. You always had a strange thought in the back of your mind, that someone may be watching you.

You discard the tank top and shorts, leaving your naked skin screaming for any warmth in the cold bathroom. You turn the warm water in the bathtub and let it fill up, during this time you began doing your daily routine; brushing your teeth, scrubbing your skin with a wonderful smelling body wash, and cleaning your hair.

“The bathwater is ready” You heard the robotic Japanese lady say. You finished cleaning your skin and entered the bathtub.

“Ah~ this feels so nice.” You thought, letting your stiff body relax in the warm water. A small smile formed on your face, it was moments like this where all of the worries and anxieties just seem to vanish from your mind and body. You’ll spoil yourself for 15 minutes because once you get up from the bathtub, all of the worries and anxieties will rush in like a tsunami. You closed your eyes and began to inhaling and exhaling in a small meditation ritual. You blocked out everything except the water dripping from the faucet and began matching your breathing with the drops.

With each breathing, you allowed your mind to wander off to a small, happy memory of your childhood. The memories of laughter, the smell of baked treats your father would make you, and the sweet lullaby your mother would sing as she brushes your hair. They were such wonderful and warm memories.

Reality slapped you with the harsh ringing from your phone. You got up and quickly dried your skin and warped yourself in the fluffy white towel. Rushing to your room, you quickly answer the phone before it hit the 6th ring.

“Hello?” You greeted your boss while securing the towel around your body tightly.

“Heyy! (L/N), I was just checking up on ya. You’re still coming right?” Suichi said in an enthusiastic voice and got straight to the point. You didn’t answer him, what the fuck was he talking about?

“(L/N), you forgot didn’t you?”

“Damn it! He’s talking about that party! I don’t want to go…” You thought in annoyance as he began ranting about the important people that’ll be there. You wiped your free fingers on the hem of the fluffy white towel.

“I don’t--”

“Please don’t embarrass me! I’m begging you, please come!” Yamada didn’t even let you finish as he begged. You signed, there’s no way through him. You wanted to spend this day relaxing, which means staying home and watching a movie and sleeping! Not socializing with arrogant assholes who think they’re better than everyone.

But you couldn’t say no.

And so you agree, Yamada thanked you and hung up soon after. You placed your phone on the bed, looking at the wet floor made by your footprint, the peaking light from your curtain reflected on the footprints. And you began to rethink your choices.

Should you go?

Or should you stay?

If you knew what was going to happen to you...what would you have done differently?

That day, New Years, Shigaraki gave us a simple order. Keep an eye on you. I wished...back then...I wish I told you to run. To get the hell away from here…

But I didn’t want to disobey him...

...Back than...I didn't know...

If I could go back in time...I would tell you to run.

I wish I could...

Reader is a foreigner, this will be important later. Anyway I hope you enjoyed chapter one, I'm 1/3 done with chapter two, so I can't wait for you guys to read it. Chapter One does seem a bit confusing, I was actually going to something like that. But don't worry it'll make sense soon.

Thank you for reading.

#shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #bnha imagines #fan fic writing #writing #shigaraki tomura #Shigaraki #bnha shigaraki

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salacitys · 5 years ago

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[ adelaide kane ; cisfemale ; she/her ; bisexual ] RACHEL VINCENT the TWENTY-EIGHT year old PROFESSOR. they have been hired at allerton in the FILM STUDIES DEPARTMENT. they’ve been known to be +ELEGANT, as well as -FLIGHTY. things they enjoy are ROUGH SEX & EDGING, but dislike SCAT & FOOT FETISHES.

welcome to my third child ! who actually happens to be the oldest of my characters and who just might be my favorite ( but , shh , don't tell jani and kitty ! ) but anyways , i've had some time to think about her background and i know how i want to go about her . so without further ado , here is some info about her :

born in los angeles to two parents who wanted the best for her , rachel was always destined to be on stage or on the screen . when she was three years old , she did her first commercial - for coca-cola , no less . and that set up her love of hollywood for the rest of her life . she got cast on various sitcoms throughout her childhood but the main one , which impacted her life , was the one that she got cast in at the age of eleven .

from the ages of eleven through eighteen , she played as blue avery on ' the life of blue ' , a boy meets world-esque sitcom that followed the life of her fictional character from a preteen through college . her performance was critically acclaimed and rachel has an embarrassing amount of accolades from the time . but at eighteen , she was thirsty for something different . she had loved being on television - don't get her wrong . but she was burnt out . because of this , she made the decision to leave LA behind for a while . and she ended up in chicago and at allerton for her undergraduate program .

she debated majoring in theatre or something would allow her to be the center of attention . but after spending so much time in front of the camera , she thought to try her hand at being behind it . and she absolutely loved it . after she completed her four year program , she went back to los angeles with the goal of making some movies .

fast forward two years and her first film is released . it was supposed to be an indie psychological thriller but the critics absolutely ate it up . and rachel received the opportunity to screen it at cannes . after that , she was extremely sought after as both a writer and a director . so at twenty - three , rachel was enjoying the fame that she had sought .

and the debauchery that came with it . and quite frankly , the next three years were a blur . until everything came crashing down at her feet . after getting caught having an affair with one of the actors in her film ( they had been engaged to someone else ) , the ensuing outcry over the fact that she had broken up a marriage drove rachel out of hollywood . desperate for somewhere to stay , she ended up in chicago and back at allerton .

she had to practically BEG to get this faculty position . but despite her checkered past , her credentials were enough to get her the position . after getting the job , rachel has actually ?? adjusted pretty well to living in chicago . she's a pretty interesting professor , has the habit of making her students laugh .

but recently , she's been struggling with muse . which could be blamed on the fact that she still feels super guilty about breaking up that actor's marriage ( even though it takes two to tango ) or the fact that she just hasn't been very inspired lately to create .

MISC :

- definitely probably ( maybe ) a voyeur . ( probably has some consensual softcore sex tapes that she films in her bedroom . )

- vintage heaux . she loves a good thrift store and she wears those big floppy sunhats with cute little vintage dresses . she's extremely well-dressed , always meticulously groomed .

- has a record player with a collection of old music . truly thinks that she should have been born in another era . she's kinda whimsical ? but realism really beat her up after everything that happened in LA .

- pretty kind . but she has issues committing and therefore , doesn't even own a pet . because that's something that she has to take care of other than herself .

- has the cutest laugh . her nose scrunches up . it's literally one of the reasons america adored her during the life of blue .

- drinks a lot of sweet wine . ends up wine drunk while grading papers - only two students have gotten back incomprehensible results .

- will sleep with anyone , younger or older .

- a switch but with bottom tendencies . can top if she really wants to but prefers to receive most of the benefit while doing almost none of the work .

- that's all so far ! but as i think of more , i'll let you guys now .

WANTED CONNECTIONS :

- someone who was there while she completed her undergraduate . ( maybe it was sexual ? maybe not ? )

- an ex boyfriend from her college days . ( probably ghosted him almost immediately after graduation )

- someone who admires her work and also the fact that she's lowkey famous ?

- some flings . rachel is a romantic but with how busy she is , she hasn't had time to devote herself to romance . on top of that , she's kind of a flake and tends to ghost when things get too serious .

- a muse . rachel is going through some rough times with her inspiration right now . and if someone wanted to help ~inspire~ her , she'd be more than a little grateful .

- THIS IS PROBABLY GOING TO THE MAIN BUT IF YOU WANT , PLEASE TAKE IT UP ... the actor she had a fling with . could be older or younger . but definitely was from chicago and could have thought they had something ? so they ended up at allerton either as a student or as a professor and uh , rachel doesn’t know how to tell them that she probably ruined their life for no reason .

#allerton:intro

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charlieashwell · 6 years ago

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F U T U R E R I T U A L response

A commissioned response to F U T U R E R I T U A L (Arnolfini, Bristol, October 2018). Photo by Asher Fynn, of DAS GLAMOUR.

I cannot take the future, or ritual, for granted. A future ritual is something we do together and I definitely don’t agree with all of you. How to be together, then? How to remember what we came for?

In order to watch, to be there, receiving, thinking with, thinking about, F U T U R E R I T U A L - a series of performances, a series of series, a plural in the singular, a singular plurality, a thread, a plait - I’ll agree to disagree; to struggle, to writhe, to wiggle with my eyes and words, to embrace partiality, to allow the risk of cliché, the cliché of risk, to bounce off my burning body and onto yours.

The body burns because it’s embarrassing to watch performance, to perform audiencehood, to acquiesce to encounters you never sought out or imagined; to allow intimacy into square feet you would rather keep for yourself; a fragile, unsafe self. The mutual suspension of comfort for something else is perhaps the most precious ritual of all, though, so for now I agree to be thrown sideways into other people. Into other people’s futures. Into other people’s rituals. Let’s begin, I think. I stop thinking.

Kitty Fedorec has a suitcase of cassette tapes. She’s gothed-up, wig flying in our faces, daring us to diss or squirm or admire too lovingly, revealing our own fandoms, our own dominions. I lean forward. There are atlases on the floor. She stands on them. A string of dances, steady and studied.

She dances in defiance of something and I wonder whether every dance ever is in defiance of something. I think about my recent desire for only dances, no dancers. She speaks about mental health and feeling under constant threat. She speaks about the nation state being unwell. “The nation state wishes it was an eagle.”

She conducts a participatory war game with two audience members and I think about individual identity within and against national identity; the requirement to participate in nationhood, to “be a good sport”. I feel caught out; I’ve said ‘yes’ to this; to party politics; to paying taxes; to pressing send; to submission. Perhaps we can’t make art without making conversation with the parasites; the war machines. We’re already good sports for turning up, turning out, turning our love for possibility into social capital. To turn away is to taint the possibility of togetherness actually being pleasurable at some point in the future. I wonder whether the nation is always doomed to make war, whether the individual is always doomed to be a national treasure, whether outbreaks of violence are always synonymous with war and what would it be to violently break the state, our collective state of loneliness; the individual, the art institution, the dancer, the family, the monarchy, the dutiful subject, the artwork-as-commodity, the infinite misunderstandings of each other, into a billion shards? I wonder about this country. I wonder how to get rid of the billionaires. I wonder about sunken ships. And sunken desires for escape. How to raise them from the bottom of the sea?

I can’t remember how she ended up naked, but I do remember her singing with her band, which suddenly arose from the corner of the room, like solid ghosts. Gold leaf falls off her face. She’s only wearing a biker jacket, and a pair of Ray-Bans. I want to hang off her. Every word.

Joseph Morgan Schofield acts with and upon their body, calmly not-so-calmly piercing skin as if it was fabric. Not-so-calm because it requires me to be there, the witness, diluted in my witnessing, distracted, wanting rather to drape myself over the person next to me and breathe only in for a while, as Joseph takes care of breathing out. Or is it the other way around? Joseph does the breathing in, we do the breathing out. The tip of my tongue presses lightly into my front teeth and I suck the sides of this stupid, mute, always-active organ inwards, creating a rush of cold air between top and bottom jaw. “Thssshhhhhh.” Would I bite the bullet? Would I grab the needle? Would I feel pleasure? I feel only their body matters. I feel heroic for not running up and saving them and then I feel stupid and then I feel sad and then I feel brave and then I feel hot. We’ve all agreed to watch and learn. We consent to every moment because they’ve consented to the longest moment and all the moments and all the labour before and afterwards. The cleaning, the white flannel that turns red, the tentative, too-casual post-show discussions, the avoidances, the calm after the storm, the storm swirling above and around us as they tip hot wax onto their arm.

There’s a tension between action and impact, reaction and smooth, calm observation. Body as observant subservience. Malleable bloodstream. Tightening skin. Decisions made long ago coming back to serve us an enormous platter of fuck-the-present, hold-on-tight, simply-close-your-eyes-if-you-need-to feeling.

I’m starting to really want a tattoo.

DAS GLAMOUR are two but actually three people. I’m reminded of a Twitter meme about an imagined future with no men. Funny how fast a group of three becomes societal in scale. Perhaps I’ve re-internalised the compulsion to reproduce that haunted me for a while between 2014 and 2017. I can see them reproducing like spider plants - asexually - which isn’t to say they don’t have sex, but that sex is at last discontinuous with making babies - before and beyond my eyes and into a future beyond patriarchy, a world and word that feels so vintage already. Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself. Perhaps you’re not ready to sign up to this spider future. In any case, I’m not entirely sure how we get from here to there without killing anyone - cookshops of the future, etc - so for now I’ll scale it down and focus on these three; this time.

It was 2018. It was autumn. I was wearing black. I was squatting, open-mouthed, with a group of other open mouths in a recently-defunded arts space to watch silently one of the most unapologetically constructivist, bish bash bosh, open-heartedly curious, in-love utopic, choreographic body-voice-drum-song works I’ve ever squatted open-mouthed in front of.

They yodelled. They stood on boxes. They stamped. Their voices were clear and calm and technical and guttural without the machismo of musicians and definitely none of the desperate, aspirational subjecthood of dancers. They just sang because singing is an animal faculty. They moved because moving is in them. Because singing and moving and drumming are pure vibration. Pure desire.

Are they the vision of a future with only dances, no dancers? Who is the artist here? Who is the muse? Who has been taught? Who did the teaching? Who downloaded the holy text and from where? Who is this serving if not everybody? Who are they if not the ghosts of a future ritual without the need for fixed meanings or labour-as-we-know-it or nations or property or anxiety, except the continuous consideration of which pleasure we’ll take next?

Is there violence in dragging ritual from its deep history and chucking it into the future? Or chucking the future upon it? Maybe. But then I’m not much of a pacifist. I like things that smash together. I like shards. I like to read futures from fragments. We’re all witches here, DAS GLAMOUR seem to say, and don’t care for our agreement or disagreement. Just that we’re here. And it’s not that special. Perhaps performance isn’t that special, just unusual.

How many times have you slipped through time into a dark room to watch silently the glitter, the reddening skin, the guitar strings, the erotic implications, the lighting rig, the other nervous witches? Let’s assume there is the potential to agree on a future. Or many intersecting futures, at least. You cannot produce your future separately from mine, or theirs, so don’t even try.

DAS GLAMOUR sing, and their song stays with me:

“desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire, desire”

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dfroza · 4 years ago

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there is opposition to God’s truth.

even when God as Man walked the earth and shared it Himself. and so it is now as well. and there are people attempting to change it. to rewrite its sacredness. to disregard the good conscience of the Spirit. to spread lies into earth. and lies seek to steal the Temple treasure of the heart.

even in ancient times, and among believers, there was opposition in belief. such as in Today’s reading from the book of Acts when some wanted new believers in the new covenant to be circumcised as the Jews were under Mosaic law, which was protested by Paul and Barnabas and they ended up sending a letter to instruct others with these basics: to not have anything to do with activities involving idols, to guard the morality of sex and marriage, and to avoid eating blood.

and things did change in the new covenant because the Lord came to fulfill Mosaic law, of which consisted many symbols, such as the Temple service and its sacrifices involving animals, that all pointed to the consummation on the cross, thus cancelling any further sacrifice. but the laws of morality still exist. the law of Love according to God’s truth as our Creator.

[Acts 15]

It wasn’t long before some Jews showed up from Judea insisting that everyone be circumcised: “If you’re not circumcised in the Mosaic fashion, you can’t be saved.” Paul and Barnabas were up on their feet at once in fierce protest. The church decided to resolve the matter by sending Paul, Barnabas, and a few others to put it before the apostles and leaders in Jerusalem.

After they were sent off and on their way, they told everyone they met as they traveled through Phoenicia and Samaria about the breakthrough to the non-Jewish outsiders. Everyone who heard the news cheered—it was terrific news!

When they got to Jerusalem, Paul and Barnabas were graciously received by the whole church, including the apostles and leaders. They reported on their recent journey and how God had used them to open things up to the outsiders. Some Pharisees stood up to say their piece. They had become believers, but continued to hold to the hard party line of the Pharisees. “You have to circumcise the pagan converts,” they said. “You must make them keep the Law of Moses.”

The apostles and leaders called a special meeting to consider the matter. The arguments went on and on, back and forth, getting more and more heated. Then Peter took the floor: “Friends, you well know that from early on God made it quite plain that he wanted the pagans to hear the Message of this good news and embrace it—and not in any secondhand or roundabout way, but firsthand, straight from my mouth. And God, who can’t be fooled by any pretense on our part but always knows a person’s thoughts, gave them the Holy Spirit exactly as he gave him to us. He treated the outsiders exactly as he treated us, beginning at the very center of who they were and working from that center outward, cleaning up their lives as they trusted and believed him.

“So why are you now trying to out-god God, loading these new believers down with rules that crushed our ancestors and crushed us, too? Don’t we believe that we are saved because the Master Jesus amazingly and out of sheer generosity moved to save us just as he did those from beyond our nation? So what are we arguing about?”

There was dead silence. No one said a word. With the room quiet, Barnabas and Paul reported matter-of-factly on the miracles and wonders God had done among the other nations through their ministry. The silence deepened; you could hear a pin drop.

James broke the silence. “Friends, listen. Simeon has told us the story of how God at the very outset made sure that racial outsiders were included. This is in perfect agreement with the words of the prophets:

After this, I’m coming back;

I’ll rebuild David’s ruined house;

I’ll put all the pieces together again;

I’ll make it look like new

So outsiders who seek will find,

so they’ll have a place to come to,

All the pagan peoples

included in what I’m doing.

“God said it and now he’s doing it. It’s no afterthought; he’s always known he would do this.

“So here is my decision: We’re not going to unnecessarily burden non-Jewish people who turn to the Master. We’ll write them a letter and tell them, ‘Be careful to not get involved in activities connected with idols, to guard the morality of sex and marriage, to not serve food offensive to Jewish Christians—blood, for instance.’ This is basic wisdom from Moses, preached and honored for centuries now in city after city as we have met and kept the Sabbath.”

Everyone agreed: apostles, leaders, all the people. They picked Judas (nicknamed Barsabbas) and Silas—they both carried considerable weight in the church—and sent them to Antioch with Paul and Barnabas with this letter:

From the apostles and leaders, your friends, to our friends in Antioch, Syria, and Cilicia:

Hello!

We heard that some men from our church went to you and said things that confused and upset you. Mind you, they had no authority from us; we didn’t send them. We have agreed unanimously to pick representatives and send them to you with our good friends Barnabas and Paul. We picked men we knew you could trust, Judas and Silas—they’ve looked death in the face time and again for the sake of our Master Jesus Christ. We’ve sent them to confirm in a face-to-face meeting with you what we’ve written.

It seemed to the Holy Spirit and to us that you should not be saddled with any crushing burden, but be responsible only for these bare necessities: Be careful not to get involved in activities connected with idols; avoid serving food offensive to Jewish Christians (blood, for instance); and guard the morality of sex and marriage.

These guidelines are sufficient to keep relations congenial between us. And God be with you!

And so off they went to Antioch. On arrival, they gathered the church and read the letter. The people were greatly relieved and pleased. Judas and Silas, good preachers both of them, strengthened their new friends with many words of courage and hope. Then it was time to go home. They were sent off by their new friends with laughter and embraces all around to report back to those who had sent them.

Paul and Barnabas stayed on in Antioch, teaching and preaching the Word of God. But they weren’t alone. There were a number of teachers and preachers at that time in Antioch.

After a few days of this, Paul said to Barnabas, “Let’s go back and visit all our friends in each of the towns where we preached the Word of God. Let’s see how they’re doing.”

Barnabas wanted to take John along, the John nicknamed Mark. But Paul wouldn’t have him; he wasn’t about to take along a quitter who, as soon as the going got tough, had jumped ship on them in Pamphylia. Tempers flared, and they ended up going their separate ways: Barnabas took Mark and sailed for Cyprus; Paul chose Silas and, offered up by their friends to the grace of the Master, went to Syria and Cilicia to build up muscle and sinew in those congregations.

The Book of Acts, Chapter 15 (The Message)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is chapter 8 in 1st Samuel when the people demanded a king rather than choosing God as their King:

When Samuel got to be an old man, he set his sons up as judges in Israel. His firstborn son was named Joel, the name of his second, Abijah. They were assigned duty in Beersheba. But his sons didn’t take after him; they were out for what they could get for themselves, taking bribes, corrupting justice.

Fed up, all the elders of Israel got together and confronted Samuel at Ramah. They presented their case: “Look, you’re an old man, and your sons aren’t following in your footsteps. Here’s what we want you to do: Appoint a king to rule us, just like everybody else.”

When Samuel heard their demand—“Give us a king to rule us!”—he was crushed. How awful! Samuel prayed to God.

God answered Samuel, “Go ahead and do what they’re asking. They are not rejecting you. They’ve rejected me as their King. From the day I brought them out of Egypt until this very day they’ve been behaving like this, leaving me for other gods. And now they’re doing it to you. So let them have their own way. But warn them of what they’re in for. Tell them the way kings operate, just what they’re likely to get from a king.”

So Samuel told them, delivered God’s warning to the people who were asking him to give them a king. He said, “This is the way the kind of king you’re talking about operates. He’ll take your sons and make soldiers of them—chariotry, cavalry, infantry, regimented in battalions and squadrons. He’ll put some to forced labor on his farms, plowing and harvesting, and others to making either weapons of war or chariots in which he can ride in luxury. He’ll put your daughters to work as beauticians and waitresses and cooks. He’ll conscript your best fields, vineyards, and orchards and hand them over to his special friends. He’ll tax your harvests and vintage to support his extensive bureaucracy. Your prize workers and best animals he’ll take for his own use. He’ll lay a tax on your flocks and you’ll end up no better than slaves. The day will come when you will cry in desperation because of this king you so much want for yourselves. But don’t expect God to answer.”

But the people wouldn’t listen to Samuel. “No!” they said. “We will have a king to rule us! Then we’ll be just like all the other nations. Our king will rule us and lead us and fight our battles.”

Samuel took in what they said and rehearsed it with God. God told Samuel, “Do what they say. Make them a king.”

Then Samuel dismissed the men of Israel: “Go home, each of you to your own city.”

The Book of 1st Samuel, Chapter 8 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Sunday, September 27 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

Today’s message by the Institute for Creation Research:

September 27, 2020

The Discerner

“For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.” (Hebrews 4:12)

The Word of God (both the written Word and the living Word, Jesus Christ) is “living and energizing” and is the double-edged sword of the Spirit, piercing into the deepest recesses of body, soul, and spirit, where it “discerns” even the very thoughts and intents of our hearts.

This discernment, however, is more than just understanding or insight. The Greek word for “discerner” is kritikos and is used only this one time in the Bible. Our word “critic” is derived from it, and this is an important dimension of its meaning. Its discernment is a critical, judging discernment—one that convicts and corrects, as well as one that understands.

It is paradoxical that people today presume to become critics of the Bible when it should really be the other way around. There are textual critics who sort through the various ancient manuscripts of the Bible, trying to arrive at the original text; there are the “higher critics” who critique vocabularies and concepts, trying to show that the traditional authors did not actually write the books attributed to them; and then there are many other purely destructive critics who criticize the Bible’s miracles, morals, and everything else, hoping thereby to justify their rebellion against the Word.

But the Bible still stands! It stands in judgment on our lives and our subconscious motives. It will have the final word when “the books [are] opened...and the dead [are] judged out of those things which were written in the books” (Revelation 20:12). It is far better to heed the constructive criticism of the Word now than to hear its condemnation later. HMM

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jads1000 · 7 years ago

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Steroline Appreciation Week 2017 (#scaw17) The Snow Globe: An Origin Story

What do you do when you can gif for toffee and your photoshop skills are woeful, but you want to still appreciate your OTP?

This story has been buzzing about in my mind for a while so I decided to write it down. It’s set some time in S1, Lexi is dead, Grams is alive.

Thank you to @lightninginmyeyes for the encouragement (you’re my writing inspiration!) and @mediocreplayweight for all the crazy fic ideas we have come up (one day I might actually finish something). This is dedicated to you two.

***

"Take a name!" Caroline waved the envelope aggressively under Stefan's nose.

"I'm sorry?" He replied, confused.

"Don't be." She snapped. "Take a name."

As Caroline Forbes was a force of nature, he decided to do as she said and meekly drew a slip of paper from the envelope. He unfolded it, taking in the name written in neat cursive hand.

"Don't tell me. It's meant to be a secret as in SECRET Santa. Didn't they have that in whatever podunk place you were living before? Whatever. It's a $15 limit.” She waved a hand dismissively and sauntered off.

Used to her hostility, partly due to his rejection of her advances and partly because Damon was his brother, he wondered how the hell he was supposed to buy something half way decent for so little money.

***

It was T minus two hours to the Secret Santa gift exchange. Stefan felt a bit of a heel leaving it so damn late, but he had had to order something from eBay and the seller had been slow to post. Fortunately, he just about had time to sort it. Stefan had decided to get creative; his room, full of nick knacks, was a treasure trove of cool stuff carefully collected over 150 years.

Sat at his desk, his fingers brushed over the vintage Disney snow globe. He remembered buying it in Florida with Lexi who had told him he was the biggest cheese ball ever and he needed to get over himself. It still hurt to think about his best friend. The tale of Peter Pan, the boy who never grew up, had spoken to him since the 1900s when he had read J M Barrie's first edition. The globe contained his favourite character from the film and was the absolute best fit for the recipient of the gift. She had had a hard time recently and deserved something special.

Unfortunately, being nearly 40 years old, the contents had turned murky with slime so Stefan had carefully levered it open, emptied and cleaned the glass globe and just needed to refill it with a concoction of glycerine and glitter. He grinned as he slid the bung back into bottom, his task complete. The globe was the good as the day he had bought it.

"For pity's sake, Stefan." A sneery voice echoed from across the room. Why did he constantly forget to shut his door? "You're a vampire, not an eight-year-old girl."

"Well, brother. You wouldn't know a classic tale if it smacked you in the face." He snarked back. "What do you want?"

"Aside from ensuring your eternity of misery continues, I wanted to find out how far you had got with the Bennett witches. Have you found the grimoire?"

"No." He half lied. "Not yet."

"I don't believe you." Damon's lips twitched nastily. "You never were a good liar, Stefan." He vamped into the room and snatched the snow globe from his brother's hands. "I'll ask you again. Where is the grimoire?"

"I. Don't. Know." He replied trying to keep the tremble from his voice as he attempted to swipe back the globe.

"Tut tut. You know it does work like that. You have something I want and I have something you want. Care to trade?"

"For the last time, I don't know where the grimoire is. Now give that back." Stefan growled.

Damon smirked, knowing he had him. "Too bad. I'll just have to hold onto this..." He tossed the ornament up into the air. Stefan took his chance and flew in trying to grab it, but Damon was quicker and he batted Stefan away. It fell to the floor shattering into a thousand pieces.

"Oh dear." Damon smirked, over his shoulder as he left. "Someone's not getting their Secret Santa gift. Remember, I know everything. You don't want to cross me."

The threat still lingering in the air, Stefan attempted to clean up the mess while frantically wondering where he was going to get a new gift from at this late stage.

***

Caroline kept a tight ship when it came to event planning. She expected perfection both from herself and everyone else involved. She had eye rolled when Elena had suggested including the boys in this year's Secret Santa exchange. Caroline had made sure that her friend hadn't pulled Stefan's name and vice versa. Other than that, she had no idea who had who. For her, finding out who the identity of the mystery gift giver was as exciting as receiving the gift itself.

So, she was beyond pissed that, Tyler, Jeremy, Elena and Stefan were all late.

"Quit stressing, babe. They'll get here when they get here." A pair of arms wrapped around her waist. She found it more irritating than comforting.

"It's just..." She sighed. "Why can't people follow instructions?"

Matt didn't bother answering as Tyler walked into the Mystic Grill and he obviously felt bro hugging him was more important.

"Sorry, Care. I'm sure Stefan, Elena and Jer are on their way." Bonnie was trying to placate her, but at least, she was being kindly about it.

"Thanks Bon. How are you...." Her question was interrupted by Elena and Jeremy. Everyone gathered round the Gilberts greeting them warmly.

"Where's Stefan?" Caroline huffed, desperate to get the show on the road.

Elena tossed her hair. "He called me earlier to say there's been some sort of emergency." She replied vaguely.

"Well, if he's not here in five minutes, we'll have to start without him."

Elena blinked her big doe eyes and cocked her head to one side. "But surely that will just ruin everything."

Caroline seethed. Elena was right, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Bonnie, scenting drama, quickly stepped in. "How about we order some chilli cheese fries and play some pool while we wait for Stefan?"

"Good idea, Bon. He won't be long." Elena breezed off to the bar to order, all self-assurance and annoying perfection.

Caroline felt her face twist sourly, but she kept her true feelings at bay. This was supposed to be fun. So why didn't it feel that way?

***

Half an hour later, Bonnie was crowned the undisputed pool champion. Tyler had vowed to 'go easy on her' so Caroline had her suspicions about just exactly how Bonnie had won, but she kept it to herself. Finally, Stefan appeared and dropped an attractively wrapped gift into the box Caroline had prepared to aid anonymity. Clapping her hands, she gathered the reluctant participants around and started to dole out the gifts,

As the present pile got smaller, Caroline's hope that Stefan would be the one who bought her gift started to rise. She was excited, he was great at that kind of thing, thoughtful and sweet. The other boys had gone jokey. Matt had bought Tyler a mankini and a bottle of lube, what Tyler bought Elena should never be talked about in polite company, even Jeremy who had the unenviable task of buying for the guy who has everything bought Stefan a joke book to go with the latest John Grisham. Caroline, however, couldn't imagine Stefan not taking this seriously.

"Last but not least." She squealed as she picked out her gift, even if the rest of the table had since lost interest. Eagerly, she opened the box and started to root around in the shredded tissue paper. It wasn’t easy to locate, but her fingers finally located something round and plastic-y. She frowned a little, but gamely persevered lifting out the object.

It was a key chain.

A snow globe key chain.

Of Mystic Fucking Falls.

"Oh dude." She heard Tyler say.

"Cheers Stefan. You just made my life so much easier, setting the Christmas present buying bar that low!" She could hear the smirk in Matt's voice.

She composed herself. "Thank you, Stefan." She said tightly. "At least, it's useful." She let out a tinkly laugh, hiding her humiliation. "Who's up for another game of pool?" She heard whoops and hollers and felt Matt press a distracted kiss to her cheek.

"I love my bracelet. Thanks again. Are you okay?" Bonnie asked, the only one left behind.

"Of course." More tinkly laughter. "Why wouldn't I be? Go on, Bon. You have a title to defend."

When everyone was gone, she picked up and twirled the snow globe. Her mom would probably say 'you don't give to receive', but that didn't make this feel any less shit. As no one was looking, she decided to get some air. As soon as she left the Grill, the mask cracked, she buried her head in her hands and let the tears roll unchecked down her face. She had had such high hopes for junior year. Where the hell did it go so wrong?

"Caroline?"

Oh fuck. The one person she did not want to see was stood directly in front of her. She kept her hands to her face hoping he would take a hint and sling his hook.

He didn't.

In fact, he put his hand on her forearm and said her name again.

She looked up.

"I'm sorry. Look, I screwed up. I had another gift and I misplaced it. Quick Stop aren't the best for last minute gifts." He smiled apologetically.

"It's alright." Being mad at Stefan was hard work.

"No, it really isn't.” He said earnestly. “So, I bought you this as well, but it was a bit over the limit and I didn't want to embarrass anyone." He seemed to magic a huge box of her and her mother's favourite chocolates out of thin air. She imagined the two of them sitting down together watching Dancing with the Stars while passing the box back and forth. "The snow globe was a bad idea?"

Surprised to see the offending item still in her hand, she held it up. "I mean maybe if it was from London or Stockholm or Rio de Janerio, it might have been cooler."

"But Caroline." He fixed her with his serious look. "In 18 months’ time, high school will be over and you'll be leaving Mystic Falls, off to college, travelling or just taking on the world. I guess I thought this way you could take a bit of home with you."

She looked up at him and they locked eyes for a second. Her heart fluttered under the warmth of his gaze. Looking at Stefan Salvatore should not feel this good. He was out of bounds and she had a boyfriend.

"It's still a shit gift!" She exclaimed, breaking the tension.

He chuckled. "Come on, it's cold out here. Let's go and watch Bonnie kick Tyler’s ass again. Her talent is almost supernatural." He winked at her. And despite the chilly in the air, Caroline felt warmer than she had in a while.

AN: I have an idea for a second part. Let me know if you guys are interested.

#Steroline #scaw17 #steroline fanfic #Stefan Salvatore #caroline forbes

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fabglance1 · 7 years ago

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#XD30 - DAY 5 - SAVAGE

CHAPTER 5 – SAVAGE

Corey caught up with the Mercedes G-Wagon, yelling, “Aye man, you left your phone!” The truck slowed down.

“Thanks dude.” Jack answered as he received the phone from Corey’s hand, “and thanks, again, for getting my car looking smooth! Your team is the only one I trust to keep the G-Wagon looking fresh off the lot! I’ll make sure to let all my frat brothers know about your services. I gotta get you some business so you can get my lil’ sis that FAT engagement ring.” Jack smiled wide.

Corey nodded, gave Jack fist pound, and Jack drove away bumping the new Drake song. Corey walked back to the building shaking his head. He only tolerated Jack because he was Ahlia’s best friend, her big brother. But this recent exchange confirmed Corey’s thoughts about Jack. That nigga was dirty, pure and simple.

Moments ago, Corey had noticed that Jack left his phone in the lobby, Corey picked it up. What dumb dude would leave his phone, and unlocked, during these times? The phone buzzed in his hand and he instinctually looked at it. Yup, two pictures sitting on the screen. Some girl, two poses, and she didn’t look older than 22. She was a pretty lil’ light-skinned thang, busting it wide open for the camera. That surely, wasn’t Jack’s wife; Jordan was way too classy to send nudes while bending over in a dirty bedroom.

Back in the day, Corey would have asked Jack if the young lady had a sister. Now, he was a changed man. Before meeting and falling in love with Ahlia, Corey was KNOWN to never love or trust these hoes. In the past, Corey didn’t believe in monogamy. ‘Hit it and quit it’ was his motto. He’d often say, “The best way to get over an old hoe was to get with a new one!” But Ahlia changed all that.

Corey met Ahlia at fundraiser for a local youth organization. His company, Corey’s Custom Car Service, was a title sponsor for a Back-to-School rally. Corey might have been a dog, but he believed the children were the future and made sure to donate as often as he could. That year, he was so proud that his company had made enough profit to start giving back to the community. Ahlia, was a chairperson for the organization and head of the planning committee for the event. When she called Corey to her office, to sign some sponsorship paperwork, he didn’t know his life would change.

An appointment that was supposed to only last 30 minutes, ended with drinks at the local Happy Hour spot, followed by an intense make-out session against the door of Corey’s classic Chevrolet Camaro SS. Corey didn’t know if it was Ahlia’s kind eyes, mind blowing curves, or care for the community that made him want to know everything about her. But when he got home, he started deleting all the ‘hoes’ from his phone. He called Ahlia every morning for two weeks asking her to go out with him. When she accepted, he planned an actual date, wanting to impress the pretty and smart chairperson. Within the month, he said he loved her and didn’t care if she said it back, but she did. She moved in with him a couple weeks later.

Corey’s Custom Car Service was a concierge service that catered to high-end import cars. The tall, fit-ish, former NCAA Division I superstar, with an ivory smile and well-groomed beard looked like no one’s auto mechanic. After a horrible hit during his time on the field, Corey’s NFL dreams disappeared. The college sophomore, who was once labeled as the ‘Future of Football’ had become a second thought when his ACL was torn and foot crushed. He would never recover his speed nor his agility. Another person would have crumbled under those circumstances but not Corey. Always the hard worker he healed and moved forward. The handsome and bright student decided to put all his efforts into his earning his degree in Business Administration. He’d lost his athletic scholarship due to his injury, but, randomly, gained a modeling contract after being scouted on Myspace by an LA talent agency. He graduated with a nearly 4.0 grade point average, $110,000 in the bank, and an exclusive modeling contract.

Corey rode the model wave for a while after graduating from college. Being as good-looking as he was, it wasn’t hard for him to pull a fine girl . . . and her sister. He’d often fly out to different destinations with his photos ending up in magazines and calendars. When he’d return, he always had a story about some model he smashed or some chick he met at the airport who would give him head in the bathroom. Corey never had a relationship before Ahlia, but maintained two or three ‘situationships’ to keep his phone buzzing.

During a photoshoot with KING magazine, he posed with Melyssa Ford and a classic F-100 truck. The beautifully refurbished vehicle was much more interesting than the video vixen’s conversation. For the remainder of the shoot, Corey intently listened to the car’s owner talk about the process of restoring vintage vehicles to their former glory. Corey identified because felt like he was a refurbished vehicle after healing from such a hard injury.

With the help of a friend, he restored his first car and realized how therapeutic the process was. A year later he sunk his savings into his friend’s failing auto garage. He used his business savvy to turn the shady business into one of the best auto restorers and maintenance shops in the city. The athlete, turned model, turn mechanic and restoration dealer had found his calling. With his work ethic, he knew he would take this business to the next level. He never thought that having a lady by his side would be the key to his success.

That’s why, when Jack, flippantly suggested he’d get his ‘frat brothers’ to support Corey’s business, Corey just chuckled. That nigga would never know that Corey was due to turn his first million-dollar sale by the end of the year. Ahlia’s engagement ring was already purchased and thoughts of a house were in his head. Jack was one of those dudes that thought he had it all figured out, but Corey always had a plan.

He thought about telling Ahlia about her ‘big brother’ having some girl ‘turned out’ on his phone, but he wasn’t one to get into someone’s business. As dull has Jack’s wife was, Jack might have needed some stimulation. Maybe he wasn’t cheating. Shoot, how many sexy single moms offered to pay for their car services with a hand-job or a back shot? Corey always declined, making sure to keep his old savage tendencies in check. But he knew how desperate some women could be. He decided to keep Jack’s secret from Ahlia . . . until he might need it. You just never know when you gotta pull out the evidence on a smooth-talking nigga who swears he has his life together.

Later that day, Corey was sitting in the living room of the apartment he and Ahlia shared. He was drinking a cold beer while lounging in a pair of basketball shorts and am old LSU t-shirt. Ahlia came home right as Corey decided to order some take-out.

“Hey baby!” She breezed sitting her bag down on the table.

“You want Thai food or Mexican?” He asked, watching Ahlia take off her coat and pull her curly hair into one of those sloppy buns.

“Mexican is fine with me. I could go for some Perez Grilled fajitas!”

“Bet! How was your day today?”

“Fine. We are closing the planning on the new playground down of 15th street! It’s gonna be nice. A whole area dedicated to kids with disability issues!”

Corey could hear the excitement in his girl’s voice, she lived for helping the community and been working on this special needs park for a year. He walked over to her, putting his hands around her waist and pulling her close, “I’m so proud of you baby!” He kissed her on the forehead, patted her ample backside, and walked back to the kitchen. “Oh yeah, your homeboy came to the shop today!”

“Who?” Ahlia paused knowing Corey was talking about Jack.

“Jack. Man, he gonna have us polish the paint off that G-Wagon if he keeps coming back so frequently!” Corey laughed to himself. “He asked why we didn’t come to game night. I thought you had called him?”

Ahlia was paralyzed, her heart pounding, “I sent him a text, he must’ve forgot. Did he say anything else?” Ahlia knew Jack would never confess a thing to Corey, but she also knew he only came to the shop because she hadn’t returned his calls. He was manipulating the situation and she hated him for it.

“Naw, he didn’t say anything. Just being his regular cornball self.” Corey continued to laugh while walking back to the couch. Ahlia walked over to him positioning herself on his lap. Ahlia couldn’t believe she had to keep a secret from her amazing boyfriend. She inhaled deeply as the thought of losing Corey crossed her mind.

“How about a little fun before the food comes?” She asked, hoping that the feeling of Corey’s body pressed against her own, would take away the guilt she was feeling. Corey was quick to oblige, immediately lifting Ahlia’s legs and pulling her into a straddle position. Started her rub her body. Ahlia tried to let her mind wander but flashbacks of Jack would cross her brain. This wasn’t working, but she had to fake it until the guilty feelings went away.

#xd30 #JackAndAhlia #FabGlance #fabglance writes #writing challenge #creativewriting

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mon-blanchetts · 8 years ago

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He calls in the middle of the night asking if he can see her again. It’s not something she wants to hear—not after the news she just received [Kit/Sunny, rated M for mentions of a past sexual encounter].

AN: Yes, you’re looking at the graphic right, and yes, you’re reading the summary and the pairing right. I’m not on crack, but this story sure is. Still, please give it a chance? I promise you don’t need to know much about either person to understand the story (assuming I wrote this right). I just couldn’t get this idea out of my head, despite how far-fetched it was.

Sunny stared absentmindedly at the wine glass that sat on top of the metal coffee table, its alcoholic contents nearly finished. She’d already gone through half the bottle itself while lounging as comfortably as she could on one of the stools in the kitchenette, until she finally decided to take up her glass and continue her sulking in the living room.

Without warning Sogeum appeared on the coffee table, his white tail waving back and forth in a languid manner as he studied her wine glass with those intelligent, oversized eyes of his. She carefully reached for her drink, wishing that she had her cat’s favourite toy handy, but his dangling feather was somewhere in her bedroom. Sunny considered making the short journey down the corridor, but her doctor’s warning echoed in her mind again, as stern and sympathetic as she remembered it. If you keep at this pace, they’ll give out sooner than you think. What was she going to do, when that happened? What did she have outside the Korean entertainment industry? She wouldn’t be able to dance anymore; most variety programs, at least the ones that might still want her, were fairly active trials, too. Sunny had thought about going back to America, at one point, in the vain hope of starting over again. But other than a proficient grasp of the English language, what else did she have that made her appealing to an everyday employer?

Her thoughts were disrupted when her phone buzzed against the sofa cushion. Sunny looked away from Sogeum’s antics to glance at her phone; her eyes widened with surprise when she read the name that flashed on the screen. Why was he texting her at this time of night?

Sunny picked up her phone to swipe the screen open. If anything, she was expecting a message with little to no context, followed by an apology that he’d texted the wrong person. They didn’t really keep in contact, after all.

Do you mind if I call u right now?

His text, assuming it was directed to her, was simple and to-the-point. She liked that, but she was still startled by this unusual request, though there wasn’t any really complicated about it.

Except that it kind of is.

She quickly typed a response. Are you texting the right person?

Another text came in. Sunny?

Huh. So he wasn’t texting the wrong person after all. How interesting, she thought, even while the alcohol was finally beginning to kick in.

It must’ve been because she was a little more pilfered on wine than usual, but when she texted him back telling him that he could, she wasn’t exactly sure what she was getting herself into. She had decided earlier in the evening that she wanted to be alone tonight. Friends and family had called or left her texts enquiring about her consultation with the doctor, as well as the girls, but she hadn’t answered any of them. The diagnosis wasn’t even that surprising, considering the fact that she’d been having trouble with her knees all of her life, but she still couldn’t really face it.

Kit wasn’t part of her immediate circle of friends and peers, though. He wasn’t even in her more distant basket of acquaintances, come to think about it, but maybe that was what made the idea of talking to more appealing than talking to someone of closer relations.

Her phone came to life a few seconds later, the ringtone permeating the quiet of the living room, making her cat jump. Sogeum looked up at her with annoyance before he leapt off the coffee table, but she just scrunched her face at him before hitting the ‘accept’ button on the screen.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Kit’s voice, laced with concern, was exactly as she remembered it: low and deep, but still as smooth as velvet. His accent, too, was just as she recalled, though there was something a bit rough in the way he pronounced his consonants. She kind of wanted to know what he thought of her voice; Sunny knew that she didn’t have the same appeal as the other girls did, but apparently that hadn’t stopped him from wanting her that night. You’ve never actually seen the eight other women I work with, she had warned, while his lips found their way to the space between her breasts. The events of that night were a secret that she kept close to her, if only because she knew she was breaking one of the biggest clauses in her contract. Maybe that was what made her so appealing to him, even now, she thought—the fact that he had to be her little secret, for the sake of her career, and maybe for the sake of his, too.

“Hello,” she greeted, placing the phone back on the sofa cushion before she leaned back against the sofa. “No, you didn’t wake me up. What time is it in the UK anyway?”

“I’m in LA, actually,” he corrected. There was a shuffling sound in the background, like paper being crumpled. “I’m doing a press tour in America right now.”

She was about to ask whether it was for Thrones or a film he was starring in, but she thought about how clueless she’d look. “What time is it there?”

“Ten-thirty in the morning.”

“Oh, I see. How are you?”

“Fine, I suppose.” There was the briefest of pauses, as if maybe she was supposed to fill in some kind of blank. Not while this little chicklet is about three sheets to the wind, she thought.

“Are you well, love?”

She sighed quietly to herself. It was the very question she had hoped to avoid when she decided to lock herself away from the world that evening, unsure whether she knew how to answer it. But she’d just spent most of the night downing nearly half a bottle of red wine, hoping that her choice of alcoholic beverage made her look less desperate than she was.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she lied, once again reaching for the wine glass that sat on top of the coffee table. A few magazines and a bag of chips were scattered across the square surface; while she sipped her wine she thought about cleaning up the table afterwards, hoping to bring some order where there wasn’t. “Why did you call me?” She blurted suddenly, when the absurdity of the situation caught up with her again. Here she was, at three-thirty in the morning, talking to the man she had a one night stand with in London nearly four months ago. Maybe it wouldn’t have been that weird if those were the only facts, until she remembered that Kit was a notable actor on a show viewed by millions. She wasn’t even a stranger to the limelight herself, but this current predicament of hers was surreal enough.

He didn’t respond immediately. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Sunny had a feeling that had she been sober, his comment would’ve made her blush. As it stood, she only felt angry. Who was he to say things like that, when they were where they were?

“Are you drunk?” She asked.

“It isn’t noon yet over here, love. Are you?”

“This wine tastes awful,” she complained, in lieu of actually saying yes, but that didn’t stop her from taking another generous drink from her glass. She recalled the bottle they had shared in London, something vintage and very likely more expensive than what she currently had on hand. Strange that she remembered a tidbit like that. She would probably forget that in time, but she doubted that she would forget his large hands roaming her body, or the scratch of his beard against her nipples that had made her shudder in delight as she gripped the edges of his wide shoulders. Sunny pressed her thighs together to staunch the feelings that were beginning to grow; she was not in the mood for this, not after the news she’d just gotten. It was finally beginning to dawn her that maybe this call was not a very good idea.

“If you come back to Europe, we’ll get you the best wine on the continent,” he promised, a little out of the blue.

“I really liked the wine we had that night, do you remember?” She rolled her eyes at herself in exasperation. Why did she have to go and say that aloud?

“I do remember.” She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard something like longing in his voice.

“I actually called you because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night. Not lately, at least. Why are you drinking at this time of night?”

Everything Kit said was a lot to take in, for some reason. “So, what…you just kind of forgot about that night for a little while and then it just kind of came back to you recently?” If she sounded vindictive, she didn’t mean to. Her sarcasm never did come out right after so many drinks.

“No, I never really forgot about it,” he insisted, before there was an audible clicking noise on the other end. “Can I see you again?”

Okay, this call was a bad idea, after all.

“Mate, I don’t know if you remember this or not, but we live halfway across the world from each other. And what do you want to see me for, anyway?” She found it funny, using the same slang that he did, even when she would never have used it otherwise. A good thing Kit wasn’t Korean—she would never have gotten away with this conversation if he had been, what with her blatant disregard of his age and lack of honorifics, not to mention her overall snarky tone. The Seohyuns of her life would’ve scolded her for the disrespectable way she was talking to someone older than her, but those same people would’ve very likely collapsed if they ever learned about what she had done with said older gentleman.

And yet, the strange thing was this: his request wasn’t as surprising as she would’ve thought. It didn’t mean she was pleased with it.

“Hello?” She said, picking up her phone from the cushion to see if maybe the call had disconnected accidentally. She wouldn’t have minded, though.

“I’m here,” he assured. Sunny sighed again.

There was an edge to his voice when he spoke again. “Would you find it strange if I said that I missed you?”

“Uh, very,” she answered, but she couldn’t ignore the way her heartbeat was speeding up at a frantic rate. “You don’t know me enough to miss me.”

“No, but I can still recall the feel of your skin well enough to know that I miss it,” he countered, perhaps with a little too much vehemence in it. Clearly he wasn’t happy with her comment. “I bloody miss you, all right?” He growled, his frustration apparent. It was if he was just accepting this fact at the same moment, too.

“I can’t do this.” It came out in a breathless rush, her mind numb with alcohol and resignation. The wine glass was now empty, and she could only wish that she felt the same way, but the doctor’s words, combined with Kit’s sudden confessions, had finally set her over the edge. “I can’t do this. I won’t see you, even if I could.”

There was a long silence on the other end until Kit finally spoke again. “Why not?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Sunny,” he pleaded, but she could sense that her words had stung. “I get it, all right? I’m as surprised as you are about how this all ended up, but I didn’t know how else to say what I just did. I’m not asking you to agree with me, either, all right? But could you at least tell me what’s wrong?”

It wasn’t even that big of a deal, she wanted to say, but something held her back. Maybe he might judge her for overboard about such a minor issue—and what if he ended up seeing her as less than he thought she once was, when they first encountered one another? It’s just your knees, mate, not your heart or a limb, she imagined him saying, because she didn’t really know him enough to gouge what his reaction would be. Would he really be that callous, though, considering the way he’d behaved with her?

“Love?”

He had called her that endlessly while he pushed himself deeper inside her, but the reminder only emphasized how different things were now than it was when she first met him. They worked in the same industry, but in such different cultural milieus, that it was like night and day. Kit wouldn’t understand. The injury itself, sure, but would he get the implications it had for her place in the group?

I work closely with eight other women, you know. Bet you’d like any of them more than me—they’re all a heck of a lot prettier, and they don’t walk like grandma. She’d been fairly plastered when she had said that, had even forgotten about Jessica’s absence to boot, but she’d also confessed her knee condition to him, as well. Sunny thought about whether he remembered that part of the night.

“Sunny,” he tried again, his voice raspy with worry. “Say something, please. What’s wrong, love?”

“Would you stop calling me that?” She snapped, jumping to her feet. That was the worst idea, yet; her knees practically roared in defiance, while pain shot through the entire length of both her legs. There was no covering up the loud hiss she let out, nor the shakiness that was more than audible as she inhaled deeply, bracing herself against the pain.

Kit shouted her name desperately. His voice through the phone’s speaker reverberated against the walls of the apartment; somewhere her cat whined loudly in retaliation, along with Ginger’s high-pitched barking. Sunny groaned loudly in annoyance as she carefully returned to the sofa, but that only pushed his buttons some more.

“What’s going on? Are you all right? Sunny? Sunny?”

That’s not even my real name, she thought. Kit wasn’t his real one, either. That was another thing that they had in common, she thought, a little dazed. “My knees,” she complained softly, giving in at last. “They. Hurt. I went for a consultation with my doctor, and he told me that as long as I work them as hard as I do, the inflammation’s just going to get worse, until there’s nothing left but to get a corrective or tear something permanently. Either way, I won’t be able to dance anymore.” So many years of dancing on stage in heels, going through a series of choreographed steps that were practically engraved into her at this point, and now it was beginning to take its toll on her. The anti-inflammatory medication would only last her so long, but then what?

“I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, Kit,” she confessed, doing her best to keep the tears from coming. He couldn’t see her, but she knew how obvious she sounded when she spoke to someone after crying. Whatever they’d done in his bed that night wasn’t enough to convince her that he was ready to see her in such a vulnerable light. Sunny wanted to be remembered as that woman he’d seen that evening, the one he was compelled to bring back to his townhouse. Sunny hated to admit it, but she’d swelled with pride when she realized how much Kit had wanted her that night—a strange accomplishment that she didn’t think none of the other girls had yet to achieve. He’d been just as drunk as she was, of course, but whatever spark they felt that night had stayed with him long enough the morning after that he had offered her his number. What conversations they had had after that had been rare and sparse, but he was such a novel character in the story of her life that she didn’t mind keeping him in her list of contacts.

And now it was all messed up.

“I’m sorry, lo–Sunny,” he stumbled, but he sounded genuine enough. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, this time with more tenderness in it.

“It’s okay,” she said, closing her eyes tightly as she tried to ignore the ache in her legs. “It’s going to get bad soon. I’ve just been told that they’ve set a date for a comeback.”

“A comeback?”

“Oh, right, you wouldn’t know about that.” She flinched when the words processed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way,” she said earnestly.

“That’s all right. Will you tell me more about your schedule?”

Sunny opened her mouth to suggest otherwise, but the fumble of someone’s keys had her scrambling on the sofa, her phone clutched tightly in one hand. Swearing beneath her breath, she brought the device close to her mouth, her mind too busy with panic to remember where the ‘end speaker’ button was on the screen.

“Someone’s coming—I have to go, okay? I’m sorry.” It all came out no louder than a whisper; she didn’t wait for Kit to respond before she hung up, and he was still trying to say something even when she cut the call. It made her feel a little guilty, but she’d deal with that later. Heart beating frantically again her chest, Sunny turned around in her seat to see which one had just come back.

It turned out that Fany was too exhausted to notice if anything was actually amiss when she had entered the living room. Sunny had smiled sympathetically at her as she made her way towards her bedroom, grateful that another strenuous day at the broadcast center was over. “Here’s to our comeback,” she had cheered lamely in English. Ginger yapped at his mistress’s heels as she disappeared into her room.

“To our comeback,” Sunny murmured, also in English. Silence hovered in the apartment while she stared out at the cityscape from the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the entire wall across from her, while her conversation with a certain British actor still rang loudly in her head. As soon as she thought it was safe enough, Sunny gingerly pulled out her phone from beneath one of the plush cushions that rested on the sofa, knowing that she looked as guilty as a child stealing candy at a store.

When she brought the screen to life, Sunny saw the number of text notifications that had accumulated in the span of a few minutes, all of them from the alias she used for Kit. It was even in Hangeul to make it less conspicuous, though she supposed that it wouldn’t have made much of a difference anyway, if someone were to get their hands on her phone; the culprit would’ve caught on quickly enough, despite all the red herrings she planted.

He’d left her a series of short messages, all of them pleading with her to call or text back. I’m ok, she typed in, before tapping ‘send.’ Thx for listening, when u shouldn’t have had to. Can’t call u rite now. I’m not alone anymore.

Another text came seconds after. Will you let me see you again?

Sunny read the message over and over. Contrary to her wants, her mind drifted back to the events that had transpired that night nearly four months ago, triggering something that she was no longer so sure about.

I don’t know.

#kit harington #kit harington fanfiction #sunny #snsd #crackship #gonna lose all nine of my followers after this i think #but i regret nothing #it was fun writing this #the idea of two people working in the entertainment industry but with such insanely different expectations #and sunny's knees #;___;#writings #mine

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lolitskfics · 8 years ago

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T.O.P/ Choi Seunghyun x reader - What Seunghyun Desired - part 2

Notes: if the beginning sounds kinda depressing it’s because I’m listening to First Love on the wings album waiting for my video game to load and I find Yoongi’s rapping sad and desperate on this song. Also I inserted a tiny cross over from one of my other fics.

Summary: The address Seunghyun wrote for you was one that you never thought you would go to, especially with him. Trying to make small talk, you end up inviting Seunghyun to try something new, however, he is reluctant to do so if it’s not with you.

“Thank you for conversing with me (y/n). I hope i’ll see you tomorrow.”

You had no idea why you bothered, but you found yourself waking towards the address T.O.P had left you. Why you wanted to help him was beyond you, was it because a celebrity had asked you for help or maybe it was because that evening in the art gallery, he looked as though he had given up.

Looking up at the sign of the place you found yourself in front of, you were taken aback. ‘Saranghae Bakery’.

‘Why would he want to meet here of all places?’ You thought to yourself but walked in none the less, searching for him in the little bakery. The smell of fresh pastries filled your nose and you hummed pleasantly. You were a bit hungry, if he hadn’t arrived yet why not order?

“Hi! Welcome to Saranghae Bakery, the number one bakery for couples all over Seoul! What can I get you?” A bubbly girl no older than you smiled brightly and you couldn’t help but smile right back. You’d have to come back with a future partner one day.

“Oh! Ah, yes. Ummm, I’d like to order the ‘Strawberry Cheesecake Swirl’!

“And I’ll take the ‘Mint Carrot Cake’ to go please.”

A deep masculine voice came from behind you and even the poor girl at the counter seemed frightened at the mans sudden appearance. Turning around you came face to face with Seunghyun, eyes interlocking. Taking in his attire you found him to be wearing something that took everyone in the bakery by surprise. A long fur coat, one that had been seen on one of BigBang’s recent performances so no wonder he stuck out like a sore thumb. To top it off he was wearing a plain black cap and mask, if this were meant to be a disguise then it certainly wasn’t working.

“U-um, excuse me? Your order is ready!” The girl broke you out of your train of thought and you immediately turned around. Pulling out your wallet you searched for the right bill, however, a hand shot past you placing the due money on the counter for the girl to pick up. Your eyes widened and you turned to confront Seunghyun.

“I can p-”

“I asked you to come here, the least I can do is pay.”

He stated in a low monotone voice that had you shivering slightly. You still had not gotten over the fact that his voice was at least an octave deeper in person, though it was quite pleasant listening to it.

“Thank you.”

You picked up the box that the girl had presented you and turning round, you showed a soft smile to Seunghyun, catching him by surprise.

‘What’s she smiling at? Did I make her smile?’

He turned in search of something else that possibly could have made you smile to no avail. Turning back he noticed it was gone and felt slightly displeased, it was a photo worthy moment that he had missed. Maybe it symbolised a different type of art, one that he wasn’t used to? He noticed he had been stood stoic still for far too long and cleared his throat in an attempt to make it less awkward.

“Let’s go.”

He simply said before walking out of the bakery, expecting you to follow to which you somewhat obliged. Catching up to his fast paced figure you decided to make small talk to get to to know ‘Choi Seunghyun’ better.

“So, what do you usually do when you’re not at an Art Gallery or with family and friends?” He slowed down upon hearing your question allowing you to walk side by side. He thought of a suitable answer and turned his head ever so slightly to address you personally. “I sometimes go out to a restaurant or stay at home wine tasting.”

‘Of course.’ It had slipped your mind that vintage wine was one of the three things he had always tended to post about. That, selfies and art.

"Where are we going? If you don’t mind me asking…” You said the last bit in a quiet soft voice, just in case he felt you were prying too much. “To an exhibition that includes wine tasting. Two of my favourite things.”

“Seunghyun why don’t you try a different approach towards art?” He stopped in his tracks and turned to you with a questioning look on his face. “What do you mean? Should I throw another exhibition?” You shook your head and looked up at him before saying:

“Why don’t you make your own?”

Seunghyun looked lost, had what you said really confused him that much? “What do you mean?” You gave him the same smile that had somewhat managed to daze him in the bakery. “I mean, why don’t you paint a piece that reflects you. How you feel, who you are, what you desire.”

“What I desire? What do I desire?” It seemed as though once again he was asking you a question you could not answer, that look, that same look that screamed ‘please, say something that will take me by suprise once more!’

You were at a loss for words, searching your brain for something that would be deemed acceptable for Seunghyun. ‘Why do I try so hard to satisfy him?’ You thought to yourself, but came up with something none the less.

“I think you desire, emotions. Something new to feel, a feeling that can only come with the satisfaction of completion. The completion of a piece you yourself have made. Your favourite thing is art, than use it to satisfy your desire.”

He soaked in what you had just said and slowly but surely accepted it. That was when you were the one at an utter loss for words when he, for once, smiled back at you instead. It was a warm smile, one that really showed how much he appreciated your words.

“If you don’t mind me asking…”

You stood waiting for what he had to say, completely forgetting that you were stood in the middle of the street receiving questioning glances from those who seemed to recognise him.

“Can I paint you?”

#t.o.p #t.o.p x reader #t.o.p bigbang #t.o.p scenario #bigbang #bigbang scenarios #choi seunghyun #choi seunghyun x reader

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filmista · 8 years ago

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Romeo + Juliet (1996)

William Shakespeare, It's the name of a man we've probably almost all heard of at one point or another and It's also likely that you'll know one of his most famous works, Romeo and Juliet, considered by some the greatest and most tragic love story to ever be produced by someone's pen.

Usually, people, when confronted with Shakespeare, will express either plain boredom and dislike even though they may never have read a single word he ever wrote, some will be indifferent, some adore his work.

One fact is undeniable, and that is that cinema has had quite an intimate affair with the man, as there's a number of films adapted from plays written by him, but they almost always respect the time Shakespeare's play originally took place in.

When it comes to Shakespeare there seems to be a consensus which is don't touch him with your filthy, modern, progressive hands, so most attempts to take a story by him and modernize it is usually met with distrust and discontent.

Romeo and Juliet is no exception to the rule, two modern versions have been made of it, one from 1996 with Leonardo Dicaprio and Claire Danes, who you may know from the tv series Homeland, in which she is, in a permanent state of paranoia and hysteria in most episodes. Behold:

Personally I find that the billboard with the tagline “Is he a terrorist or am I crazy?” (which I once saw on Tumblr) sums up the whole show to perfection, personally I think that they're all freaking crazy in their own way, though mind you I actually really like her work in it, even if she makes me really nervous while watching it, It's proof that she portrays the character well.

Then there's also a version from 2013, starring Hailee Steinfeldt, who I absolutely have nothing against, I loved her work in some films, though my opinion on this one was, that if Shakespeare ever got to somehow see it from the grave, his eyes would bleed and he'd turn in his grave.

But the version of Romeo and Juliet, that I want to talk about today is not the one from 2013, but the one from 1996, made by Baz Luhrman, the guy who made Moulin Rouge.

Now Baz Luhrman is a director that I'm not familiar with but also not unfamiliar, I have as of yet to see Moulin Rouge, I definitely will one of these days, I recently got the book Cinema The Whole Story and Moulin Rouge is mentioned in it, so I’m now pretty curious.

His films usually all have something kitschy and over the top, but It's the sort of kitschy and over the top that I personally really dig. Because It's passionate, not inexperienced and chaotic kitschy, there's a difference. Now I've seen his Romeo and Juliet, about 3 times and I actually really like it and don't mind watching it again now and again.

On Imdb, it receives almost a 7 and still enjoys a high popularity rate and on Rotten Tomatoes 72%, famous American film critic Roger Ebert (with whose reviews I have a sort of love and hate relationship, I love some, completely hate others) butchered it in his time and then pretty much shat on it, the guy totally hated it.

There seems to be something strange with the film, some critics adore it, others think It's an abominable self conscious piece of shit, there's almost no in between opinions. It switches from one extreme to the other, curiously enough the ordinary audience seems to really like it, some even love it, if you look it up on Tumblr you'll see that it still receives plenty of love still.

Now personally, I've always really liked it, It's not my favourite film, but I like it enough to have it at home in my collection and still watch it from time to time. I don't usually bother watching films that I really don't like again, unless It's to please someone that really happens to love that particular film.

I'm familiar with Shakespeare's work and I've read Romeo and Juliet, and I actually liked reading it when I finally did, even if I had my previous negative preconceptions. Now many people dislike or hate Romeo and Juliet, one of the reasons is that it supposedly because it glorifies teenage suicide.

But you have to see it in It's time and context, I think, a time when rearranged, loveless marriages still were the norm, and the warring families represent the intolerance and incomprehension, towards the romantic interest Romeo and Juliet felt towards one another.

Who knows whether they were each other's true love, they just desperately wanted to be together, nowadays being with the person of your choice is accepted in most countries.

But if people are denied that right, surely in some cases in their desperation they'd be willing to take their lives for it, It’s truly more tragic than romantic, which is why Romeo and Juliet is usually considered more of a tragedy than a romance. personally I've always found that Shakespeare in his work defends that people should be able to be with who they chose, so for his time you could argue that he was progressive in his own way.

Now I see how some people defend that you don't take a story like this out of It's historical context, but personally I think that some of the themes in it are still modern, and that you can apply them to a modern scenario. Which this film did while still respecting and preserving the essence of the story, for instance Leonardo Dicaprio and Claire Danes speak in old English and I didn't find that it came across as forced or ridiculous.

The film follows the traditional plot of Romeo and Juliet, all the elements, inclusive, the tragic suicidal ending. But it got thrown into a modern, (in some aspects I'd say retro modern, since it has plenty of vintage nodges) funky jacket.

Verona, instead of the beautiful city in Italy, is now a suburb of a big American city (it was filmed in Mexico), and the two warring families are two huge modern, capitalist, corporations that compete against each other. But the essence remains they hate each other's guts to the core, and the Capulets would never allow their daughter to fall in love with and marry the son of the enemy, the Montagues, but we all know that this is exactly what happens.

Anyway, since I don't want to jump to any conclusions or be disrespectful towards anyone that doesn't know the story, I'll leave you guys with the storyline:

The classic story of Romeo and Juliet, set in a modern-day city of Verona Beach. The Montagues and Capulets are two feuding families, whose children meet and fall in love.

They have to hide their love from the world because they know that their parents will not allow them to be together. There are obstacles on the way, like Juliet's cousin, Tybalt, and Romeo's friend Mercutio, and many fights. But although it is set in modern times, it is still the same timeless story of the "star crossed lovers".

I've personally always loved the acting in the film, though I'm still able to recognize that it isn't perfect or flawless at all times, that's not always neccessary, sometimes It’s compensated by the visual beauty, but It's still in my eyes very enjoyable, energetic and lively acting.

Leonardo Dicaprio and Claire Dane's brought a youthful, passionate, refreshing quality, to the old words that in the hands of lesser actors might have come across as dusty and antiquated.

Dicaprio and Dane's capture the beauty and the romance of the original words, in a modern setting in a charismatic way but they don't come across as two teenagers, reading Shakespeare whilst suffering hysterical laughing fits, as they disregard it as garbage.

they seem convinced as they deliver the words, they believe in the urgency and the desperate the wanting to be together, the romance and the passion are there and are palpable, which is essential in any adaptation of a romantic play, if there's no passion, there's no romance, maybe a lukewarm one, which is something that you don’t usually want in a romance.

The acting of both Claire Danes and Leonardo Dicaprio in this, has been the subject of quite some controversy. First of all there's the age difference, Danes was 17, Dicaprio was 21, that's 4 years between them.

This shocked some people, but It's not uncommom to see a significative age differences between a woman and a man in film, and It's not uncommom in real life either, and 5 years is not an unusual age difference in real life, my own parents have 6 years between them for instance.

So personally I wasn't that shocked, also back then Dicaprio still had the baby face, and he seemed light years away from developing anything that closely resembled a beard, so he looked younger. Danes on the other hand, looked slightly older in my view, but anyway the point is they were both young and could pass as a teenage couple.

Then there was also the fact, that allegedly Dane's and Dicaprio didn't get along with each other at all, now I wasn't there, so I don't know, I've heard that this was greatly exaggerated and I've heard that It's entirely true other times, I don't know what to believe, so I don't really have an opinion on it.

The important thing to me is not being able to notice that supposed dislike between the two, and I have as of yet to notice any discomfort and strain between the two, so until I don't, I'm sold on it.

If they really did dislike each other, then the fact that they came across as convincing and believable, is probably due to the director who must have been able to create some harmony between the two, and their individual acting chops.

Young 90's Leo, is a known romantic. And he's never been an actor who shies away from a tragic love story or romance in general, It's something I admire. And personally I've found that the guy is really good at losing himself, in the drama of a particular moment in a romance.

So I really had no problem with 90's Leo as Romeo, he's a good fit for it in my view, Dicaprio is an actor that can capture intensity and drama, without becoming laughable. Danes is an actress, that I like, but she isn't one of my favourite actresses. I liked her in the early season of Homeland, but that and Romeo and Juliet is really all I've seen her do, well that and a film called Stardust, which I enjoyed at the time and seemed forgettable to me after...

They always seem to pick her in roles, in which she's anxious and nervous, It's probably because of her really big and expressive blue eyes, Danes is because of her eyes one of those women that's probably unable to hide what she feels, because her eyes tell the whole story.

Eyes like these are for an actress in some cases are a blessing or a curse, they're highly expressive, but It's also easy to get typecast as a woman who's permanently stuck in the same emotion, wide eyed wonder, or nervousness.

But while Danes is in Homeland, nervous and anxious a lot of the time, I've also seen her capture other emotions naturally and believably, so she's not my favorite actress, but she's not a bad actress in my view, speaking from the little that I’ve seen her do.

And I think she's great with Dicaprio in Romeo and Juliet, they give off the sensation of losing and given themselves entirely to the character. Danes at times seems a little more doubtful in delivering the monolugues than Dicaprio, but in her defense she was younger and more inexperienced than Dicaprio at the time.

Baz Luhrman’s direction is not flawless, but it is highly enjoyable, the overall visual and narrative result is highly pleasing to the eyes and ears, and he gets performances out of Danes and Dicaprio that are more than decent. Bahrman has a background in theatre which is probably why his films, always have a dazzling, theatrical quality.

It's probably not for everyone, most people are either into his films are not, but I do believe that for this film, it made him into the right man to handle it, since It's based on a play, and he already had a background in theatre, so he'd be able to keep the theatrical, dramatic quality of it while applying it to a film.

And I think he succeeded well at that, the film still has something of the quality of a play to it, but not in a bothersome, amateurish sort of way, it has an elegant, broadway sort of quality to it.

As important as the characters are in the film, the place their actions occur in, is just as important, he understands that the decor and cinematography support the actions of his characters, and they in turn support the overall aesthetic of the film.

So the visual aspect of the film, is splendorous, grand and truly beautiful to look at. Everything, even the little insignificant details have been thought out and are impressive, the set decoration and costume design is a treat for the eyes, It's perfect in It's Bombasticism, if that's your thing.

There's wonderful, simple special effects, great contrast in lightning and colors, their intensity varies according to the mood and tone of the film. Truly dazzling colours, and lightning, while in the background you can find all sorts of funky stuff, such as 50's vintage inspired billboards, for example a sign that looks like a Coca-Cola but with the words L’amour on it.

A lot of the times there's a lot going on visually in one scene, your eyes might wonder from the main event, and focus on little details which can at times make it a little difficult to follow, as it feels like It's a bit all over the place at times.

This is one of the main problems that a lot of people have with it, as they say that the camera work is imprecise and chaotic, without purpose and difficult to follow. I agree with it being difficult to follow at times, but that's really more due to the timing than anything else I think.

The film moves at certain times either a tad too fast or sometimes a little slow, but I found that most of the time it has normal pacing, that doesn't present a great difficulty to follow it. And the camera captures what's going on between the characters successfully. It is true that the camera work is handheld and quite shaky, and this to some people made it seem of bad quality.

But it was done on purpose, there's something sensationalist about it, the hand held camera work is supposed to be reminiscent of a a documentary, or in this case more of a sensationalist news broadcast, as the story is told to us, in this modern version as a news broadcast.

And that is very often, in terms of filming style how it comes across, only It's quite a little more glammed up in this case, and more reminiscent in this case of an MTV videoclip, but the drama and sensationalism, are there, It's a true spectacle.

So liking it probably depends on whether you're one for dazzling, glamorous, cinematograhraphic spectacles, and I myself am the kind of person that can enjoy visual bombasticity from time to time, a part of me (I'll spank myself for it later) likes kitsch, of perhaps questionable quality from time to time, if It's what I deem good kitschy.

But it is a well known fact that taste differs from person to person, so what's kitschy for some person, might be in the eyes of an other, something that belongs in the Tate modern, for instance I myself love Pop Art, especially Roy Lichentenstein’s paintings.

It’s regarded as art and has a place amongst several museums in both America and Europe, but by some it is disregarded as worthless crap, or for instance the film Suspiria made by Dario Argento, is considered by plenty of people, a timeless visual masterpiece, for others kitschy, psychedelic crap.

One of the reasons that I like Romeo + Juliet is the soundtrack, you may like the film or not. But quite a number of people, probably wouldn't be able to deny, that the film has a number of delightful musical moments that are like little pearls in the film, that truly elevate the film to a higher level, they illustrate the power music can have over a film, in two simple words, either add to it or detract from it.

A few times over the years, I've shut off a film simply because I found the music so distracting, so distasteful and just plain migraine inducing. For me Romeo + Juliet is the perfect example of a film, in which the music contributes to the atmosphere and helps to make the film, into one emotionally consistent whole.

My personal favourite musical moment, is the scene with the tropical fish aquarium, Romeo and Juliet, meet for the first time, and observe each other through the glass, while in the meanwhile Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah plays.

While I personally prefer Leonard Cohen's version, simply because I love Cohen, my mom would listen to him a lot when I was younger, so his voice has something soothing and comforting for me, that reminds me of my childhood, anyway enough nostalgic reminiscing.

So as I said I prefer Cohen's version but Buckley's version is perfect, in this instant in the film, it adapts to the sentimentality and yes the drama of the scene harmoniously, there's a perfect coordination between the rhythm and content of the scene and rhythm of the music.

Romeo + Juliet, is not the best film ever made and I won't ever say that it is, not all of It's aspects are flawless or even good, but I find that underneath if you're willing to overlook them you'll find a good film and one that does justice to It's original source. It is true that it is , just like many people say and like I've said myself kitschy, terribly kitschy even.

But then again taste is subjective, It's like pineapple in warm food (I have a problem with fruit in warm food) especially on pizza, highly controversial, some love it others hate it.

I'm one of the ones that hates it, pineapple on pizza physically repulses me, much the same happens when I’m reminded of the fact, that allegedly some Americans fancy ketchup on oysters (culinary blasphemy in the eyes of many Europeans, this one included), I’ve never seen anyone actually do it and I hope I don’t ever should have to witness it, but if I should I won’t run...

Still I won't judge them and others for liking it, we all very likely like at least one food or combination that others find disgusting and that’s pretty much how I feel about the film. I accept that some people find it a bad film and I don’t judge them for not liking it or myself for liking it.

To some the film is terrible in many of It's aspects but a visual delight, and while I don't find myself liking all of It's aspects, I find it a feast for the eyes, and I'm always in for that.

“A glooming peace this morning with it brings. The sun for sorrow will not show his head. Go hence and have more talk of these sad things. Some shall be pardoned, and some punished. For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”

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morrisbrokaw · 6 years ago

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The Abnormal Stories of Loud, Beautiful Women

There are a few stories I am embarrassed to tell. And (just about) all of them are about my sexuality as a woman.

The patriarchy has led me to believe, for a very long time, that the body of a woman should be quiet and “deal with things in silence”. In return, it took me nearly 25 years of my own life to figure out the meaning and essence of my body because no one was talking about women’s bodies and how they work. Sexual abuse, abnormal periods, tampons, abortions, sex, estrogen, birth control – all have become a quiet and painful dance. We have been taught to live them alone. In fact, this story I’m about to tell was one of the weirdest moments of my lady part journey, specifically because it happened when I was thirty-years-old and I thought I knew everything.

One morning in September, one like many of the other mornings, I received a phone call from my gynecologist. I had recently been in for a pap smear that went just like all the others: cold stirrups, a pinch, and a lubed up walk through the lobby to my car. Being a woman is beautiful!! The wetness of fear washed over me when she called, however. Because she never called. She’d refill my birth control prescription and send me off. This time, she left me a message,

“Hi, Brittany. It’s Dawn from Western OBGYN. The tests came back from your pap smear and they came back abnormal. Okay? I highly suggest you receive a colposcopy to ensure you don’t have any signs of cervical cancer. Give us a call and we’ll get an appointment on the calendar.”

Huddled in my stairwell at work, I definitely heard “you have cervical cancer” somewhere in there.

The news covered my face with a ghost of fear. The fear that suffocates and blunders, pushes tear ducts to their limit, grabs the throat and holds it in place. I needed to ask a lot of questions. When I called back, my doctor’s calmness on the other end of the line made me hold my breath, fearing she was only calm because she knew I needed her coolness and confidence deeper than she needed coolness and confidence. “Whatever you do, don’t read Google,” she instructed on the call. “We’ll send you some brochures to read up on.” I remember her saying the brochure thing specifically because brochures quickly turned her into an ancient enemy. Brochures? You want to send me…brochures? Amazon can deliver me a multi-colored toilet bowl light in under an hour and you’re saying you can’t tell me how I’m dying for another 3 business days??!

I scheduled a colposcopy immediately. I had no idea what it was, but it sounded scary. My doctor transferred me to the appointments line and the lady on the other end asked with a kind demeanor, “what appointment are you trying to make, sweetie?” And I had forgotten the word “colposcopy. So, I said, “I don’t know…it sounds like colonoscopy but that’s not it…?” And she knew right away.

Since I made the appointment so quickly, the brochures didn’t come through the mail on time. Imagine that. I wanted to talk to someone about “abnormal cells” and “colposcopies” but I couldn’t think of anyone to talk to. I was embarrassed and grossed out by my own body, and had never heard of anyone going through this before.

Instead, I choose the high road and thought a lot about cancer. I imagined cervical cancer every day for a week until my appointment. My body was a bad, dirty host; the unknown of my insides spiteful and terrifying. I was an unfit woman and it was simple: my body was not working. My insides were growing unhealthy cells that could give me cancer at a young age and I still had everything to do and many people to love. I still had tons of questions and I had to ask them. The doctor had told me to write them down to share before my colposcopy. I wrote them down in my phone notepad: Is this my fault? Are abnormal cells normal? Why can’t I ask anybody this? Do abnormal cells heal? Are abnormal cells common? Can I give abnormal cells to my boyfriend? And what about a colposcopy? Do you scoop my insides out like a cantaloupe? Will a colposcopy affect my desire to get pregnant in the future?

For that weekend, I didn’t want to be with friends or family. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about my mossy sickness growing inside but I deeply wanted to find a connection with someone that had been through the same thing before. I craved understanding and comfort. I knew I wasn’t dying but the dangling potential of death looming forward, as it typically does, sat next to me and sipped my fear for three days straight.

On the day of my doctor’s appointment, I drove in a functional haze to the gynecologist. I drank iced coffee that tasted like sawdust. I left my apartment. I drove down the highway. A van driving behind me was driving erratically. I called the Customer Care number on the side of the van. I screamed into the Customer Care’s answering machine. The van was carrying stairlifts for old people. I threw my phone on the passenger’s seat and it bounced onto the car floor. I cried to classical music in my car because of it. I imagined being a man. I imagined not having a cervix. I thought about my body as a confetti blaster of fear and disease, emotions and instability. I imagined being a man for a great, long while. When I parked my car at the doctor, I almost felt like maybe I could be a man. I pulled up Twitter and scrolled through a plethora of depressing news. I ran across a vintage picture of Debbie Harry, delectably savage and hardy. I imagined being a man once again. Not even a man with a penis, just a man in his soul. I imagined having strong upper arms and minding my own business. I imagined how my brain would possibly work, in structure – practically and emotionally, under very simple terms. I imagined all of this while struck by Debbie Harry’s blunt blonde cut in the photo I was viewing of her. I was struck by her pink eyeshadow that matched her dress. Past the oppression and equal rights, I knew I needed my womanhood. I loved my womanhood. Past the abnormal pap smears and cervical cancer, I wanted to be a woman. I wanted to be healthy. I wanted to be fruitful. But, I knew a badass picture of Debbie Harry wasn’t going to cure me.

I walked into the doctor, consciously dousing a casual aura on my entrance, desperate to ensure all humans in the building knew I was going in for a yearly checkup – totally normal, folks! I wasn’t going in for a colposcopy. I wasn’t going in to find out I had cancer. Absolutely not one of those. I was healthy. I was young. I had taken care of myself all these years and I’d done it well!

The nurse weighed me and I made a fearful stink about that. “I was weighed like, two weeks ago.” The nurse smiled. I looked up and avoided her leveling out the numbers on the scale. The nurse took my blood pressure and asked if I buckled my seatbelt. I did. I took off my pants and wrapped my lower half around the tissue, feeling like I was dressing up with a roll of toilet paper, like I had when I was a kid. I didn’t feel like a kid though; the brutal honesty of womanhood spit on my feet.

While I waited for the doctor to come in, I swung my naked bum on the tissue covered bench, accompanied with such a loud noise of rustling I felt the need to sneak onto the bench, place each cheek before the other. Even worse, next to me on a spotless silver tray was everything I feared. One instrument looked like an ice cream scoop combined with a wine bottle opener. Then there was a giant cuticle trimmer, a vile, and what looked like a medium-sized eyelash curler. I could see people walking through the parking lot into the office from my perch. It was sleeting. Then I looked at the tools again.

The doctor came in and she was warm. She told me to “scoot down just a bit” and my ankles were in the stirrups. I hated the word “scoot.” I thought of my body. I thought of how my butt cheeks looked connecting to my thighs at that angle. I thought of my vagina, the hairs I’d missed and the earthy realness of my vagina. I tried to calm myself by thinking about how many vaginas she’d seen. Mine was just like the rest, an opening and a life maker. She said things like “this is going to pinch a bit” and “this is going to feel just like a period cramp” and “this will be a little cold.” The nurse adjusted my pillow and I thought that was nice because I’m sure she felt my aura trying to be desperately cool while all this happened to me.

And then it was over. The doctor gave me a giant pad to wear that came in this modest, tiny cardboard box. I folded the tissue and noted that I could hear the fluorescent lights buzzing above me as I left the room. I went home to my mom and she made me toast and coffee. We talked long into the afternoon. And I willed myself to forget I lived inside a body.

On Wednesday the following week, the test results came back. I had been in a desperate hurry all week long to stay distracted, so even the phone call startled me.

She told me my insides were 100% healthy and the cells were just “some pesky cells that had initially made them a little suspicious” as if she was telling me she heard a mouse in the kitchen but it had just been the cat. I could believe it but I couldn’t. The way things that scare you don’t seem real but you spend a long time convincing yourself they do. My fears were erased with one Wednesday morning phone call in a matter of 15 seconds.

I was instantly crazy with the urge to be very and visually in love with everyone in my life. I text a few friends I’d been thinking about lately; things I’d wanted to mention to them at an earlier date, minor things, even. I called my mother. I told her she was good. I had a few cards sitting around my apartment, as I am The Person Who Keeps Cards™ and wrote one to my grandma and my little sister. I was psycho and safe in the non-threatening slumber of the feeling I had been waiting for: ignorant life comfort. More importantly, I felt healthy again. But still, a little alone.

A quick pause for a piece of mind. Here’s what I can tell you about colposcopies (and abnormal cells):

Abnormal cells are totally normal! In fact, they heal and change all the time. Most women that have abnormal cervical screening tests results do not have cervical cancer, they simply should be monitored for precaution. Most of the time, abnormal cells are signs of early cell changes that go away on their own (because bodies are rad). A colposcopy feels a lot like a pap smear on crack – a little more painful but the pain scale for women is like, unattainable so – it’s really not that bad. You shouldn’t be getting one of these procedures done once a year, so it won’t affect the potential of becoming pregnant. I wish I could have read this paragraph on the internet before going to my doctor appointment.

The next day, I went to happy hour and told a good friend about the experience. I was healthy; I didn’t have cancer, so I felt a safe space in telling her the story.

“Brittany,” she quipped with urgency, “the same thing happened to me.”

I couldn’t’ believe it. We talked candidly about our experiences and she went on to tell me it had happened to a few of her girlfriends, too. The experience had momentarily broken all of them, freaked them out, and sent them reeling with anxiety for weeks. Abnormal cells are actually very commonly found in a woman’s cervix, some women containing more than others. And also very often they serve a low threat. Precaution is seemingly the name of the game. However, my doctor had been right, there is nothing for a fearful woman on Google. It’s all in the stories we, as women, tell.

Which is why I’m telling it again, here.

The women’s narrative deserves to be voiced. Especially when it comes to our bodies and how they serve us. Google is a black-hole-fear-chamber and if it’s not going to give a woman the accurate space to find truth. So, we can do that elsewhere. Our bodies are powerful and exquisite. We are not alone. Our abnormal stories are meant to be held closely and told, shouted out even, by each and every one of us.

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Brittany Chaffee is an avid storyteller, professional empath, and author. On the daily, she gets paid to strategize and create content for brands. Off work hours, it’s all about a well-lit place, warm bread, and good company. She lives in St.Paul with her 80-year-old cat, Butch. Read more about her latest book, Borderline, and go hug your mother.

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spookywinnerpainter · 8 years ago

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The WhatsApp"s two-step Verification

New Post has been published on http://articlesworldbank.com/2017/02/21/the-whatsapps-two-step-verification/

The WhatsApp"s two-step Verification

The WhatsApp”s two-step Verification If I ask you what are the primary necessities of life, you’ll answer meals, garb shelter with internet and a cellphone of course. No, we aren’t discussing about internet but a motive why we desperately want internet, yes that”s proper, for WhatsApp. WhatsApp is a should have app nowadays for every telephone proprietor.

WhatsApp is the maximum famous and extensively used messaging app. it’s far not possible to speak about WhatsApp and not encompass the privacy and protection element in it. We use masses of measures to hold our privacy, like sample lock, password safety, archive the chats etc. most of these measures due to the fact WhatsApp never got here with one of these measures.

Measures taken with the aid of WhatsApp There is a superb news for all cellphone customers, that consists of everyone. WhatsApp is all geared up to upgrade its present day model. This present day improve includes a 2-step verification technique. simply to sweep up this verification process, in this process firstly you sign in for your account with the password you realize, observed through a onetime password or a code might be sent on your cellphone.

every time you need to log into your account, you operate your password to get entry to your WhatsApp account, this authentication manner is a onetime verification method. So, the objective in the back of this 2-step verification process isn’t always to lock your cellphone and WhatsApp to maintain privacy however to ensure that the telephone range that you have registered as your WhatsApp variety isn’t misused with the aid of a person else or to shield your account from being misused.

prompted by cell join and Instagram earlier this authentication method was adopted via the famous networking web page fb for Instagram and WhatsApp is following the equal footsteps to make sure the WhatsApp person are being confident entire protection. This verification manner came into limelight after Gmail used it, no longer just Gmail but many other famous websites use this identical authentication technique as protection measure for his or her users.

these days, we heard how GSMA added mobile connect, that ensured two-issue authentication for its users, and as noted WhatsApp is using the similar process. So basically it’ll first ship you an OTP after which ask you on your six-digit password, making sure two layers of safety.

okay, now what? okay, we have heard sufficient now; we simply need to upgrade our WhatsApp account and make sure we’ve this 2-step verification method, but keep on, this verification gadget is but to be released. The Android and windows users will soon enjoy this gadget. however, the improve for Beta version is already released. So, the Beta app customers with WhatsApp model 2.sixteen.341 on Android, and for windows 2.sixteen.280 can enjoy this 2-step verification device. Now the question is how will we upgrade it?

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in case you need to enjoy this, open the app and then go to the tab tagged as 2-step verification. The however component right here is, this machine isn’t routinely applicable for every person, because the improve is still inside the Beta model. but no longer to worry, very soon it will likely be released for all of the customers. If you couldn”t anticipate the upgrade, then you may down load the Beta model and strive it.

The upgrade guide After the official model is released, you could without difficulty get right of entry to it via the Settings option. just open your WhatsApp, then go to the Settings, you will find specific choice beneath this category like Account, Chat, Notifications, contact and plenty of greater. choose the Account option, there you’ll see an tab with Step Verification. this selection is absolutely a desire, if you want a 2-step verification to your variety then go for it, in case you are satisfied with the 1-step verification at present then it”s best too.

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After those steps you’ve got activated this 2-step verification technique for your cellular range. you then come to the very last web page that ensures that the two-step authentication has been activated and you additionally get an option to disable it, alternate the password or the e-mail cope with. It is probably tough to memorize the six-digit password, but slowly you’ll do not forget this too not like all other account passwords. This addition of one greater step will come to your rescue whilst you switch your device or your SIM playing cards.

essential Notification functions An vital part to word right here is while you spark off this feature, it’s far enabled just for confined time. when you prompt it, you will have to input a six-digit alpha or numeric password further to your e-mail identification. the e-mail id you provide will be used in case of emergency. suppose you forgot your password or you, need to disable this 2-step verification gadget, WhatsApp will ask for this registered email identity.

In quick, on every occasion you register more than a few to your WhatsApp that took place when you change your phone otherwise you switch SIMs regularly, the app will ask for the six-digit password you entered earlier, if the password matches with the one you entered will signing for the two-step verification manner you may be allowed to get entry to your be counted else you can not signal into it.

advanced Password security features This verification system will comfy your account from being accessed with the aid of any 1/3 birthday party or comfy from being hacked. there may be no need to quick what are the results when your account receives hacked. With this greater layer of protection you could relaxation confident that no person except you can get admission to or misuse your account, as nobody besides you can access your registered e-mail identity otherwise you six digit password.

An critical question here is what if you forget about the password you have set and to make matters worse you can”t even get entry to your electronic mail identification or forget about your registered email identification. In this example your WhatsApp account can be locked for 7 days starting from the day you remaining used WhatsApp. that is only a precautionary degree. For a person who’s addicted to WhatsApp, if you don”t get to use it for 7 lengthy days it gained”t be smooth.

approximately statistics Backup Of direction you could get right of entry to your WhatsApp account after 7 days but the messages you get at some stage in in recent times are misplaced and it cannot be recovered. every other interesting reality is in case you watch for a very long time and don”t confirm your account within 30 days, then your account will be completely deleted and you may need to create a brand new account once more. So, your vintage messages could be deleted along side the pending ones and you cannot backup this statistics from anywhere.

This new verification device isn’t just the simplest issue this is being upgraded. at the side of this selection, WhatsApp is also making plans to trade their voice messages; in reality, now you could pay attention your voice messages even in case you leave WhatsApp and open a few different app. This voice note could be playing in the history. So, for individuals who hate analyzing and typing long texts, you can really send and get hold of voice notes, so you live linked with everyone, you don”t type, you don”t study, you concentrate whilst you wish to and also you send a voice be aware in reaction.

but according to Beta users there are numerous troubles on this new features, and as this option continues to be inside the Beta level we can anticipate it to be out as soon as all the problems had been resolved and few different adjustments are made for better usage. An vital factor to note here is these kinds of features are simplest for Android and home windows customers, no plans have been made to extend it for iOS customers.

Editted By articlesworldbank

#The WhatsApp"s two-step Verification

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