#if only so I can buy that shirt of him with his infamous quote ‘I don’t like to feel good I like to feel evil’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mitsuki91 · 9 months ago

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Please let's talk about the infamous quote about Tigris. Enjoy ALL the quote, first of all (thanks to @burntblueberrywaffles for the screen):

Now. You can ignore the second half and take the phrase at its face value, as antis love to do, and think "omg what a horrible man, who thinks this things?! Monster!" and feel proud that you can read in the sense you can recognize the letters, put them together and see that you know how all the words and the word's meaning and applaude yourself. Congrats, you can read!

No, that's not how you read.

Welcome to "basic reading comprehension 1.0".

First of all, this phrase doesn't exist alone, it's not floating in a blank page. You have to read the several sentences before that to actually understand why this phrase was written in the first place. And this phrase is right at the start of the book so I promise it won't take long.

So, let's start. I don't have the english book so please bare with me when I explain you things without the actual quote, I promise it is what actuall happens in the book.

We first see Coriolanus Snow who force himself to eat cabbage soup. That he despises it but he knows he need it to prevent the rumble in his stomach. So, you see, right here in the first sentence you have one important details: Coriolanus is not worried about hunger per se, is worried about let other people know he is hungry. Just with this you can already understand one of his core value: the appearences.

And he tells us so in the next senteces. He has an important name and live in a fancy house (from outside) but he has nothing. He has so nothing that he is now worried about a shirt, because he has important stuff to do (later we discover that the Reaping is tied with the Plinth Prize he needs so desperately). The only hope for the shirt is his cousin, Tigris, who can sew and already save him more than once, but... Well, this time she has not a great start. The only shirt he owns is stained and burned and has only half of the buttons. It needs a miracle, he needs a miracle, and even the black market was no use...

They already tried, he tells us so. But no one wants to buy or exchange the shirt. Only... This morning, the morning of the Reaping, he can not find nor Tigris nor the shirt.

So he starts to worried. And he leads us to why he was thinking about a price for Tigris in the first place. Context, people. I will post the actual quote of the book (thanks to @xalonelydreamerx for the screen):

They already try to sell/exchange something for a better shirt, and they have nothing. What is left? Tigris herself. WHAT IS LEFT? TIGRIS HERSELF, PLEASE READ THIS AGAIN.

So, we have an actual reason, a valid reason, he has to think about Tigris selling herself and people putting price on her.

Now after this come the quote, I paste again for you:

And now we can read the FULL quote.

The first half: he uses this to describe to us his cousin, and he tries to mantain a "fair" and "external pov" for it, because he puts himself in the shoes of a man who can be interested in buying her. The "vulnerability that invited abuse" is a mere objective though and also serve the purpose to tell us reader that Tigris is sweet and innocent and maybe a little bit naive, or can be perceived like that from the world. And we know this is true. Tigris is sweet and caring, she takes care of Coryo, she always did. We will know better later, this is a mere introduction.

But the second half. The second half of the quote, you all. He feels disgusted with himself for the though and this is already a good start to understand that HE DIDN'T MEAN TO PUT A PRICE ON HER AND SELL HER, NEVER, but the actual most important word here is "helpless". HELPLESS. BECAUSE HE IS THE PROVIDER OF THE FAMILY.

He is the hope. We will learn about the Plinth Prize and what it means for the family. We will learn that everyone rely on him to win the prize and save them. We will learn that he was told, since the start, that he as 'the man of the house' has the duty of provide for his family.

He is happy in that role, mind you. Worried sick, of course, because it is difficult and he can count only on the Plinth Prize to achieve something, so he has to win and the pressure is huge. There are also complex feelings around the Snow names: the fact that he feels that it is his duty to protect the family image, masking the thruth... etc etc etc.

But the first information we have, the most important piece we have from the start to put together who is Coriolanus Snow at the core, is right here. In the first page. In a part of that sentence antis like to quote and simply forget to do it in full.

Coriolanus Snow has to face the realistic possibility, the realistic concern that his cousin might consider the idea to sell herself to help him provide for their family and he fells horrified and helpless.

Helpless.

Because 1) a Snow could never think such a thing, how humiliating, how a failure for their name; and most important 2) if Tigris will do it it means that he failed in the worst possible way and he is not longer able to provide for his family and so were is his own worth? When everything he learned since he was born was to take care of his family and his family's name, that it is his duty, because he is the heir (also little ps: we learn later that since he will graduate the little pension they have now for his father death will stop because he will be a man, so also Panem itself is telling him he has to be able to provide for his family because he will be 'grown up' and 'in the real world' now).

We learn that Coriolanus Snow never wants to sell Tigris, that he is sick at the mere though, and we learn just right here just in the first page what are the core value of him. What moves him and what he thinks of himself and his family.

We learn who Coriolanus Snow is, as if we never knew his name and he was just a boy at the start of his own story.

And antis always forget about this and take one sentence out of context and judge him with "president Snow tinted glasses" and just because this quote is at the start of the book they like to scream to everyone "See? This is it, he was always bad, from the start!". And they actually just tell us that they can not understand what they are reading instead.

Okay, I hope that this lesson was worth it. Reading comprehension 1.0. I hope some antis will come accross this post and take time to read it. It's not too late to learn how to understand what you read, after all.

And now I will go to sleep that I have a terrible headache 😂 bye!

#reading comprehension #coriolanus snow #tigris snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #anti antis #let's read together #and most important #let's understand together #please forgive my grammar I am so tired #but I needed to write this #if I read another time this quote as a reason to why Snow is the Pure Evil I swear-

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

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no guidance

pov: you ask your step-brother to guide you in your first time

part of the everything step cest collab by @dilfhub thank you for everything! 💕

note. lol this rotted in my drafts for weeks but i finally finished it eeeee

cw. virginity loss, sexting, mild corruption themes, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), possessive! akaashi-ni, slight dumbification, pseudo-incest (step siblings)

You knew better than to associate with the likes of Miya Atsumu. As if him being one of the most notorious fuckboys in campus wasn’t enough of a warning sign, his reputation was also infamous for being the “Virgin Killer.” In simpler terms, he took pride in corrupting the innocence of whoever was foolish enough to fall into his trap, and yet there you were, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you shamelessly sexted with him.

Unsurprisingly, he’s asking for nudes. Again.

It had been approximately three months since you passed notes with the said Miya twin (and of course you liked the worse of the pair) before your friendship escalated into something...more sexual. It was no secret Atsumu had a high sex drive, something you were still foreign with, so you weren’t really taken aback by his open vulgarity over his desire to fuck you.

The first month, you were nice enough to sent him a snap of your titties. Albeit still a little shy over not having sent anyone such an intimate photo before, you were beyond exhilarated.

The next, you sent him a booty pic. It wasn’t anything sexy since you were only in your campus hoodie, the door locked because you didn’t want your parents walking in on you trying to get a good angle of your rounded buttocks.

And just last week, you finally gained enough courage to take a photo of your glistening pussy, sent with a caption of ‘thinking of you...’

Now, you weren’t stupid despite your preference to act naive and innocent. You knew your actions would entice him to lead into something more, if his dick picks that show him already leaking weren’t enough of a telltale already. But as your phone pinged and his name flashed above your screen, the words, ‘meet you at Issei’s party this weekend? I think I’ve waited long enough’ loud and clear – your heart dropped into your chest.

Without another thought, you shut your phone off and rolled to your side.

The thing was, you’ve never really had sex. You couldn’t even be brave enough to lose your virginity to your hairbrush or to buy a dildo despite your friends’ insistence it was much better than an actual cock (quote unquote: both can make you orgasm, but the former didn’t come with toxic attitudes of horny college boys.)

Sure, you’ve watched porn, and you watched a lot – but nothing could compare to the actual experience of it. Your fingers could only get you so far.

Glancing at your phone that kept lighting up with texts from Atsumu, you felt something stir deep within your stomach. Curiosity? Arousal? Nervousness? Excitement? Perhaps all a mix of both. You’ve heard from all the girls Atsumu’s slept with that even though he meant bad news, his cock could be likened of that of a blessing that converted them into ‘I hate him’ to ‘Gosh, I wanna fuck him again.’ Addicting, they called him, and now you were being offered a path to being on a path that most likely had no point of return.

You sighed.

The saner part of you warned you to stay away. There was no rush to lose your virginity now. Just because most of your friends had enough experience, it didn’t mean you had to be the same as them. After all, you came from quite...a strict household.

While everyone had been away from their parents and independently living in their dorms, you still stayed under the same roof as your father and step-mom, along with your older brother who was only a year ahead of you. Akaashi was a very sweet presence to have that you didn’t mind not experiencing that ‘youthful freedom’ too much, simply because your brother was a better company than whoever you could room with. He was kind, always ready to help, and you could confidently say you trusted him more than you did your closest friends.

Maybe that was the reason why you knocked at his room past midnight, shifting your weight from one foot to another. The faint sliver of light peeking from the cracks in his door told you he was probably still working on projects and the like, really not a good time to bother him, but you couldn’t hold on any longer.

At the back of your mind, this was the right thing. He was the right person.

“’Kaashi-nii...?” you knocked again, aware that he had a habit of listening to music on full volume while studying. “Are you there? Oh, were you studying, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to barge.”

Your brother stood in front of you, his headphones hung around his neck. He’d swung the door open to reveal that he was, indeed, previously hunched over his desk to work on something. Upon seeing the guilty expression on your face, Akaashi smiled at you in reassurance. “Hey, no, it’s fine,” he ushered you inside, setting you down at the edge of his bed while he sat across you in his swivelling chair. “Do you need help with homework again?”

“No...”

Turning away from him shyly, you opted to fiddle with your fingers as you stared at your lap. You had come here in a whim. You didn’t really think this through, and even though you’d been in his room a thousand times before, his dark blue sheets and tidy room that smelled sweetly of his detergent and vanilla cologne made you feel dizzy.

It didn’t help that he looked so mouth-watering in this light too.

Messy hair, long, slender fingers that absentmindedly spun a pen in those pretty hands of his, his dark eyes hazy and as welcoming as ever under the dim light of his desk lamp – how could you resist?

“What is it?” Akaashi quickly picked up on your silent worries. He’d always been observant, taking his role as your big brother seriously that he had attuned himself to sense even the slightest differences from you. Even though you’d only become family when you were already in middle school, it felt like you had known him for a much longer time than that, his warm hands rubbing soothing circles in your knees pulling the tension away from you.

“You know you can tell your brother everything, right? I’ll listen to you, you don’t need to feel scared or nervous.”

Guess it was now or never... “There’s this boy in my class...”

Akaashi’s eyes immediately darkened. All the warmth in his face disappeared, now replaced with a hardness you didn’t think was possible for such an understanding, patient guy like him. “Is he hurting you, forcing you to do something you don’t like?” his questions shot out one by one, and your eyes widened when he held you firmly by the shoulders. “Do I need to hurt someone?”

“No, no, it’s not like that!”

Your brother relaxed back in his chair. For a moment, your mind conjured up the dirtiest image of bouncing on his cock (and you know his cock is pretty after accidentally walking in on him changing clothes in high school) as he studied, but you quickly shook the thought away with a clear of your throat.

“What’s wrong then?”

You took a deep breath. “I just...I like him a lot and he asked me to have sex with him someday,” your words came out barely above a whisper, the courage seeping out of you until meeting Akaashi’s eyes felt impossible. “I said yes because of course I like him but...I’m afraid.”

“Hey,” Akaashi tilted your chin to look at him, his blue eyes pooling with worry and brotherly concern. “You know you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“I just don’t want to disappoint him. I-I’ve never done it before and I feel like I won’t make him feel good. That’s why I came here,” you peered at him under your lashes, tongue darting out to nervously lick at your lips that felt uncomfortably dry. “You told me I could ask you for help in anything and you’re my brother so I trust you a lot to guide me on this one.”

The silence in the room was suffocating.

You were so close to running out of his room and pretending you didn’t exist for the rest of your life because what the hell were you asking? He was your brother, he obviously didn’t see you as a woman. You bet in his eyes, you were nothing but a little sister, and there really was no stopping him from kicking you out of his room until – “You want me to be your first time?”

You looked up at him so fast you actually felt your neck ache from the sudden movement. Heat spread all over your body, especially to your core at the unreadable expression in his eyes, yet it wasn’t...bad. He wasn’t rejecting you.

“Yes, please.”

Akaashi nodded at your hushed words. Slapping his palms to his knees, he walked to his bedside table where he pulled out an inconspicuous bottle with some sort of liquid you weren’t familiar with.

“Okay. Nii-san will teach you everything, but first, I need to prep you.” Fuck, fuck, fuck, this was actually happening!

You could barely process the events that happened next as he discarded his shirt to the ground, exposing his toned upper body to you from years of playing volleyball. While you sat there frozen and with a frantic beating heart, your brother barely blinked an eye as he gestured for you to take your clothes off. Wordlessly, you pulled your top off and shimmied out of your underwear. Too shy upon being exposed to a male for the first time in your life, you immediately headed towards his bed and closed your eyes, breath heavy and laboured as you waited for his next movements.

Akaashi’s hand went up to your knee, and you flinched at the contact, relaxing only when his soothing smile greeted you. “Lean back for me. Just relax and loosen up, okay? I’m not going to hurt you, Nii-san will make you feel good.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you did as he told. You were still shy, but you were feeling a lot less nervous. His hypnotizing gestures of caressing your thighs made you sigh in contentment as your head hit the pillow, legs falling open like it was second nature to spread yourself to your brother.

The thought had you biting your lip.

Before you could think too much about it, you felt a cool liquid being spread all over your lips. You gasped and clutched on the sheets out of reflex, staring forward as your brother stared at you cautiously, his lube coated fingers experimentally rubbing circles over your pussy lips. It felt so lewd for him to touch you like that – those same hands that always held yours in your weakest moments – yet it felt so good; the strange sensation tightening your chest.

“I-it’s cold.”

“I’ll warm it up for you,” he reassured, “How far have you gone? Any prior sexual experience?” Akaashi then began to playfully roll your clit between his fingers, eliciting a high-pitched whimper from you. He grinned at your reaction – so vocal for him already – and he was determined to hear more of it. “Ever tried sucking someone off?”

“No, but I’ve watched a lot of porn.”

“Porn is different from actual sex, baby,” the nickname fell so effortlessly from his lips that you didn’t dare question it anymore. Not that you could anyway, because the tip of his finger was prodding against your hole that was embarrassingly clenching around nothing. “How about here? Have you tried masturbating?”

“Don’t ask me such embarrassing questions!”

“You’re spread open for me already, you don’t need to be embarrassed,” You covered your face with your hands to hide, but Akaashi pried them away, his grip on your wrist both demanding yet gentle. “Tell me so I know how many fingers I can put inside you. I need to stretch you out.”

“Just one.”

“Louder, baby.”

“Just one finger,” you blurted out, finding it harder and harder to breathe the more he glided his fingers between your slit. Fingering yourself couldn’t even compare to the beauty of having him do the same to you, your arousal only heightened by his dedicated stare at your shaven pussy. From below your bodies, his pants had begun to home a tent.

“Two hurts a little bit and ‘em too sore.”

“What a tight cunt,” he commented with a smirk. “I’ll have to take my time with you then,” You nodded gratefully, about to smile at him with hearts in your eyes when Akaashi slowly slid a finger in. Your moan came out breathless and muted as you stared at him, mouth open in a silent gasp. The intrusion wasn’t anything new but he expertly pumped his finger in and out of it that your walls fluttered around him, head thrown back for another broken moan as he slid another digit. The stretch felt fucking perfect – the slight sting more than welcome in your virgin cunt that was now being fucked by your brother.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’ll feel better soon. Just relax.”

Openly, your slight squeaks of pleasure had increased in volume. Akaashi fingered you until he was knuckle deep, his other palm flat on your abdomen. Had you been in a better state of mind that wasn’t previously clouded with pleasure, you would’ve been embarrassed at the loud sloppy sounds of your pussy, but you remained there with trembling thighs, your nails digging at his thigh as you stared at him wide-eyed.

“Feels good?”

“M-more,” you begged through gritted teeth, “Nii-san, more.”

“Not yet, baby, you’re still too tight,” Sooner than you’d like, Akaashi pulled his fingers out of you. Both of you gazed at the webs of arousal between his fingers; your face painted in shock while he smirked at it, chest swelling with pride. Then, his eyes slid over yours, hooking his hands under your knees before he settled between your thighs.

“Come here. I’m going to go down on you.”

“Nii-san, no!” your protests fell on deaf ears, almost as if he knew you didn’t really mean it. His ears knocked with your knees locked around him, and you shivered as you felt his hot breath right before your burning cunt. “It’s embarrassing...don’t want you looking at my kitty like that.”

“Your kitty is very pretty and Nii-san wants a taste of you,” he mumbles while pressing kisses all over your pelvic bone, his sticky fingers massaging your inner thighs into relaxation. Your head pressed back harder on the pillows at the sensation, the pleasure too immense and he was just starting. “Didn’t you say you want me to teach you everything? This is just a few lessons you have to learn so don’t be shy. I’m sure you taste heavenly,” Clenching your jaw from the overwhelming bursts of ecstasy, you failed to notice how he dipped his head further, tongue darting out to lick a flat stripe. Your eyes blew wide open as he torturously and slowly dipped his tongue from your hole, the wet and warm muscle licking all the way up from your slit until the clit. “See? I told you. Heavenly.”

“’Kaashi, ‘Kaashi, oh, oh!”

“You sound so pretty but don’t be too loud,” Somehow, he managed to raise his arms and placed a palm over your mouth. “We don’t want Mom and Dad to overhear.”

Your legs trembled around him until you nearly suffocated him, but how could you stop when he was rolling his tongue side to side, licking and cleaning up the previous wetness he’d pulled from you?

It was too much, too good, and soon you were moaning behind his palm as you came all over his face.

Akaashi greedily slurped up the juices that squirted all over his face, unbothered by the mess you’ve made. He didn’t stop until he was sure you were completely clean, and you were already on the brink of overstimulation when he locked his lips around yours, sucking whatever he could take. Unable to take it any longer, you pushed his head away and fell on your side in a desperate attempt to catch your breath, sending him a seductive glare, only to soften as you his lips, cheeks, and nose shining under the moonlight.

“Nii-san, your face—”

“It’s okay, I’ll clean up for later,” he shrugged it off and stepped out of his sweatpants, ripping a condom you didn’t even notice he had. You watched with baited breath as his cock sprung free, the tip red and glistening with pre-cum. Akaashi rolled the condom over his throbbing cock and situated himself before you, pumping his length a few times before aligning it with your hole, sending you one last look of approval.

“You ready for my cock now? This might hurt a little bit. You just need to relax and I’ll go slow, okay? Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable.”

Nodding, you made yourself comfortable and braced the sheets for preparation, wincing a little as he pushed the tip in. Akaashi felt you clamp down on him, his hips stilling just as he loomed over you, his arms resting beside your head. In this position, you could see each detail of him – the thickness of his lashes, the love blooming in his eyes, the sweat beading in his forehead and everything soft and slow written all over his face.

“Still okay? I can stop if you want.”

You shook your head and wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer. He raised a brow at your initiation, but you merely smiled at him to hide the mild discomfort. “I can take it, just keep going.”

A few minutes later and a hundred still good? later, Akaashi had slid himself in. He allowed you to get used inch by delicious inch until he was completely seated inside you, hip pressed to hip and his hand caressing your cheek. “You’ve done so well,” he praised, “How does having a cock stuffed in you feel?”

“S-so full,” you replied numbly, the feeling of him throbbing inside your heat so fucking delicious. “Love nii-san’s cock.”

“Yeah? I’ll give you more then,” he warned, and you knew you couldn’t go back anymore when he placed his palm flat beside your head. Akaashi began to move his hips, slowly at first to let you accommodate to his length which your pussy hugged greedily. You were moaning left and right and his groans above you was erotic enough to make you cum on the spot, the pleasure doubling as your pebbled nipples grazed his toned chest.

“Nii-san! So big!”

“I know, baby, you’ll get used to it, don’t worry. It’ll feel better soon,” he rasped, scowling when you raked your nails down his back, though not hard enough to draw blood. It would definitely leave a mark though, and the pain of it urged him to move his hips faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through his room that began to warm by each passing second. “Feel better?”

“Feels so good,” you cried around him, reaching up to bury your head in his neck and clinging to him like a koala. It did feel so good, so much so that you just might get addicted to this. “Love Nii-san’s cock.”

At your words, Akaashi’s patience that thinned a while ago completely broke.

His pace increased and he gripped your hips tightly, sitting back on his knees just to watch his cock slide in and out of you. The lube made sex feel a hundred times better from how easily he’s easily punching through your walls, the sight of you splayed out for him – hair strewn across the pillow, little whimpers leaving your lips, breasts bouncing right before his eyes and abused pussy lips hugging his shaft – it made him growl with possessiveness.

“This is how you should be fucked – you gotta be fucked right,” he announced, thumb coming down to rub your clit. As expected, you cried out and tightened around him.

He faltered for a moment at how tight you were, but he kept pushing, driving his cock in and out of you until he turned into you a sobbing, slobbery mess.

“You sure that boy of yours can make you feel this good?”

“N-no, Nii-san’s cock only!”

“That’s right, it’s just gotta be me, okay?” driving both his hands around your neck just to clench your airway as a warning, Akaashi fucked you harder than before. The sudden inability to not breathe made you impossibly tighter around him that you felt each ridge and vein kissing your bumpy walls. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m Nii-san’s property!”

“I’m gonna mark you as mine, claim this pussy as Nii-san’s only, yeah? You want that?”

“Cum in me, ‘Kaashi, cum inside!” you prompted, and what good of a brother would he be if he didn’t grant his little sister’s wishes? Growling, Akaashi snapped his hips hard until the tip of his cock successfully kept repeating that sweet spot in you that you didn’t even know you had. You were crying, moaning, too fucked to respond as you came, and your lewd expression was all it took before he was releasing his cum inside the condom. “Kaashi, Kaashi, ah!”

Akaashi quickly pulled out his cock and took a minute to regain his breath, his head cradled on his hands at the earth-shattering orgasm you both had. Not a moment later, he’s tying his condom and throwing it to his bin, finding his way right beside you as you blinked sleepily at him.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, you were great. Just tired.”

“Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?”

You smiled at his concern, pulling him in closer for an embrace. He was warm and sweaty that it felt uncomfortable, but you wanted him beside you, and Akaashi began to caress your hipbones with so much tenderness. He knew he was a little rough for losing control like that.

“I’d love that, thank you,” you mumbled, more than ready to call it a night and sleep when his weight shifted off the bed. Akaashi rummaged through something in his drawers before he disappeared in the bathroom for a bit, coming back to spread your legs open once more. “Wh-what’re you doing?”

“It’s called aftercare. If your partner can’t provide this and pamper you, I suggest you break up with them,” he snickered, and you hissed at the sensitivity as he wiped away your cum with the towel. You soon relaxed, however, all thanks to Akaashi’s doting nature that you were falling asleep on his bed, allowing him to clean you up as he pleases. He set the towel aside and snuggled right next to you, his nose bumping your jaw to pull you away from dreamland for a little while. His previous sexual aura had now dimmed; his brotherly concern present again. “You still want to fuck your classmate?”

“Hmm...he’s really handsome, and I heard from the other girls he’s got a huge cock too,” you giggled, not really aware of your words as you said, “Probably even bigger than yours.”

Thinking that he might be offended, you almost apologized after a moment, but Akaashi only laughed as he hugged you tighter. “Size doesn’t matter. It’s who owns the cock and their talent in pleasuring their partner that matters,” he confidently stated, fingers running up and down your spine that brought chills down to your toes as he nibbled on your ear. “And I know I fucked you so good he can’t compare.”

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jamespotterthefirst · 3 years ago

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Okay I've done some thinking and now I'm going to do some annoying😂 and I've come up with several questions for Lilac and Ethan. BUT, you have to answer as them too. 🙃

What was their worst date together?

I think there might be some funny stories for this one. 🤭 But I'm not sure, so I'll leave that to you.

What are their most repeated sentences or phrases?

Who takes longer to get ready?

Who spends more time on social media?

Who is the better driver and who is the default passenger? (also, how were they like when the other first drove them somewhere? Like when Lilac first drove Ethan somewhere and vise versa? )

Who is better at fashion?

Who is the biggest flirt?

Who sings better?

Who usually wins an argument?

Who usually finishes their food faster?

Who is more likely to burn the house down when they're cooking?

Who has the shorter attention span?

who is more likely to admit that they are wrong?

Who is more likely to send an inappropriate message to another family member? (I couldn't help myself sorry😂)

Who is more likely to 'fake it till you make it' with a crush?

Who is more likely to use the other's things?

Who is more dramatic?

Who is more likely to embarrass themselves?

Who is most likely to trip while walking?

Who is more likely to buy things they don't need?

Who is most like to lock themselves out of the house/apartment?

Okay, that's all I got. (For now😂)

Sorry for making it so long.

Hi! Thank you so much for these! I love them lkjfskdlfjlk and you are seriously making me so happy. I love talking about these two!

What was their worst date together?

Lilac: *laughing while sharing a look with Ethan* It has to be that night you tried to take me to the Opera for Rigoletto. They didn't know we were coming so they donated your box that night like usually instruct them to do. Remember that night?

Ethan: *completely serious* I do. But I don't remember it as the worst date.

Lilac: No? We got all dressed up for nothing.

Ethan: Do you remember what happened after?

Lilac: We walked aimlessly until we ended up at the Common. They had Shakespeare at the Park. It was a production of Much Ado About Nothing.

Ethan: *nods* You got so excited because you said it was one of your favorites but you had never seen a production. You were just so... happy.

Lilac: *smiling tenderly at him* But your plan for the perfect date was ruined. I thought it was the worst date because you were disappointed.

Ethan: I planned to spend time with you. That's all I ever wanted and I got it. Plus more. That look on your face... It was worth everything.

What are their most repeated sentences or phrases?

Lilac: His infamous line about delaying the inevitable.

Ethan: Lilac constantly quotes long forgotten six second videos from 2015

L: Vines?

E: Precisely. Or she will quote literature quite impressively. There's no in between.

Who takes longer to get ready?

L: Me

E: Lilac.

L: But the end result is worth it, right?

E: You're worth any wait, darling. Yes.

Who spends more time on social media?

*They both point at Lilac without missing a beat*

Who is the better driver and who is the default passenger? (also, how were they like when the other first drove them somewhere? Like when Lilac first drove Ethan somewhere and vise versa? )

L: Ethan! I refuse to drive in this terrifying city again with Massholes on every inch of the road.

E: *snorts* Massholes? Very accurate. The first time Lilac drove, I prayed for the first time in years.

L: You're so dramatic.

E: She has no concept of speed limit, turn signals, or stop lights.

L: I'm from California! We don't make full stops.

Who is better at fashion?

E: My wife, thankfully.

L: I coordinate his outfits daily. He was hopeless before he met me.

E: *scoffs* I was not hopeless. I just didn't spend valuable time choosing what to wear.

L: Babe, you wore a polka dot tie with pinstripe trousers.

E: I don't see the issue.

L: *stares open-mouthed at him, almost as though she is reconsidering her life choices*

Who is the biggest flirt?

E: Lilac. She even does it without realizing it. L: It's not that bad. E: No? Miss You Can Give Me Private Lessons. L: That was a rare occasion of me breaking out of my shell. *but she can’t keep a straight face* E: And let's not forget that half of the interns have a crush on you. It's annoying. L: More like 65% have a crush on me. The other 35% have a crush on you. E: They're setting their sights too high. L: *laughs* You become Chief and suddenly you’re unattainable? Luckily I met you when you were a nobody, world famous doctor.

Who sings better?

E: Me. L: Ouch, you could've pretended to think about it. E: I wouldn't have fooled either of us.

Who usually wins an argument?

E: Lilac. She grew up with the most argumentative siblings ever. Add to that her signature stubbornness and she sees most arguments to the end.

L: The secret is to kiss him when things aren’t going well for me.

E: That too.

Who usually finishes their food faster?

*They both point at Lilac without a moment’s pause*

Who is more likely to burn the house down when they're cooking?

*They continue to point at Lilac, adding extra flair for emphasis*

Who has the shorter attention span?

*They hesitate*

L: Neither of us?

E: In our line of work, we’d be in trouble with a short attention span.

Who is more likely to admit that they are wrong?

L: Ethan. He’s gotten so much better about this through the years. I’m so proud of him.

Who is more likely to send an inappropriate message to another family member? (I couldn't help myself sorry😂)

L: Ethan accidentally sent his father a text that was meant for me. Luckily, it was innocent. He was only asking me what was for dinner.

E: Your reply when I finally sent it to you was not.

Who is more likely to 'fake it till you make it' with a crush?

L: Ethan Jonah Ramsey. He pretended to be so suave with me during my intern year half of the time. The other half he teasingly insulted me, which is his way of flirting.

E: Bold of you to assume I had a crush on you back then.

L: *arches a brow at him*

E: *breaks and laughs despite himself*

Who is more likely to use the other's things?

E: Lilac. She uses my shirts all the time.

L: They’re a badge of honor. I have to tell that world I’m sleeping with you somehow.

E: That’s implied given that we’re married.

Who is more dramatic?

*Lilac points at Ethan instantly. After some hesitation, he points at himself too with the ghost of a smile*

Who is more likely to embarrass themselves?

*Their fingers remain on Ethan, both thinking of the time at the end of her intern year when he almost told Naveen all about how Ethan had slept with Lilac.*

Who is most likely to trip while walking?

*They switch their fingers to Lilac*

L: I learned my lesson about what shoes not to wear to work.

Who is more likely to buy things they don't need?

*They continue to point at Lilac*

E: We have more soaps, socks, essential oils, and candles than anyone needs in a lifetime.

Who is most like to lock themselves out of the house/apartment?

*They point at Ethan now*

L: Only because I convinced him to switch to an electronic door lock.

E: I hate the damn thing.

#Sorry I have one more ill post tomorrow!#newlyweds game with your host bree #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #Lilac Allende #Ethan x Lilac

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krysphycookiez · 4 years ago

Text

stray kids | you as the female maknae

synopsis: you’re the female maknae of the infamous k-pop group stray kids! let’s see how you get along with these eight chaotic boys

genre: fluff, platonic, imagines

pairing: stray kids x maknae!reader

a/n: wowza another female maknae au post- yes i have an obsession with these types of writings and i have no regrets. expect a lot of these extra member au’s for boy groups and girl groups

❦

you’re his smol baby child and nothing will change his mind

chan just wants you to be happy and he’s really good at showing that, whether he makes sure you’re always healthy or just doing daily check ups on you

if you don’t end up taking care of yourself he’ll get really upset and probably give you a long lecture

one time you actually cried because of his scolding because you felt really bad and he started crying too

if he feels like there’s something up with you and you don’t open up, he usually plans with the other members to do little things to cheer you up

and those plans work all the time

he knows how much you struggle with the idol life because of his own past struggles so he empathizes with you very well

if you’re an english speaking foreigner, he’d be very chaotic with you and felix

but then it eventually just turns into chan being done with you and felix’s bullshit

nags you sometimes but he just wants you to be careful- so for the most part he just lets you be

when your time of the month comes he’s usually the best at handling the situation (jisung i’m looking at you)

he also let’s you mess around with his tracks, but he makes sure you don’t do anything stupid. as you once almost deleted a whole new track

hugs you from behind a lot to remind you that you’re loved and a precious cinnamon roll

he’s a soft leader for you and it’s just downright wholesome

ngl you had a crush on minho during trainee days, i mean- just look at him for crying out loud

that silly crush soon disappeared and now you see him as a best friend

though hyunjin knew about this past crush and obviously tattled to minho. now you’re his main target for flirting

speaking of flirting, he always tries to make you as flustered as he can cause he just loves your reactions

he also initiates a lot of skinship with you cause you’re like a small teddy bear to him, also he just likes cuddling with you in general

if you’re part of the danceracha, you and him would start a lot of weird shit with hyunjin and felix

hell even if you aren’t part of that sub-unit you still find a way to cause chaos with minho

also you ask about his cats all the time cause you love them a lot, and that just boosts his cocky attitude even more

he gets very possessive of you when it comes to your guy’s friendship

cause he’s the type to say “no one outside of stray kids is allowed to talk or even look at you”

ofc he’s joking though lmao

you two are like an old married couple. a lot of bickering goes on between the two of you and that just becomes the butt of stray kids inside jokes

and both of you are very petty with each other too. like- you know when your little sibling hits you so you hit them back? yeah that’s the two of you

overall both of you have a really strong friendship, and other people get jealous of it pretty easily, even stray kids themselves

you took felix’s spot as changbin’s favorite member overtime

he’s your number one hype boi, he always gets pumped up whenever you do something like singing or rapping cause he’s amazed by your talent

probably let’s you toy with side soundtracks so he can see your production skills

overtime you have gotten better because of him, and you’re very grateful for that

he does a lot of aegyo with you cause he just loves you so much, and he also hugs you a lot too

you tease him about this height but he reminds you that you’re shorter and this leads to bickering

also since he’s not the shortest he probably rests his elbow on your head to tick you off or to get a reaction out of you

most of the time he gets a fist to the stomach but it’s still worth it

he also makes sure you aren’t overworking yourself, even if he’s one of the more busy members

if you’re feeling down the drain he buys you some of your favorite food and snacks to cheer you up, and it works for the most part

because of the attention he gives you, felix sometimes starts petty fights with you and the other members get easily amused by this. especially changbin himself

you also just find a lot of comfort within him cause he’s really gentle with you

and because he smells good all the time too lol

changbin is an equivalent to an emotional support dog. loving and very energetic

the two of you are l o u d asf

hence why you and hyunjin aren’t allowed to share a room together anymore. you had a laptop in your shared room and you guys would watch horror movies that would scare the living shit out of y’all

hyunjin likes to take you on shopping dates so both of you can either eat something together or go on a shopping spree

and mini fashion shows start too lmao, he probably gives you like a million clothes to put on

if you’re one of the main dancers, he’s the reason why you are able to dance as well as you can today. cause you felt close to giving up but then he came in and encouraged you to keep going

during his trainee days, his fights with jisung would scare you. one day it got so bad you started crying cause you didn’t want them to hurt each other

they then realized what they did and hyunjin was the first to apologize, even buying you your favorite drink to make up for it

he tries to steal your attention from minho and that almost results in his deathbed

no one’s stopping this boy from doing anything to get your love and attention tho

whenever you guys aren’t together you text a lot, and you guys send each other cute memes in the process

you guys are just like north and south you can’t stand to be away from each other

he also loves to cuddle with you. whenever you get a nightmare you usually turn to him to sleep with so you can feel the comfort of his loving arms

the other members know about this and they get jealous of that sometimes

hyunjin sees you as the little sister he never knew he needed, and he just wants you to have the best possible life he can offer you

let’s be real here, jisung probably didn’t know how to talk to you during trainee days cause he thought you were really pretty

he’s never basked in the beauty of someone so elegant before

the only time you guys really started talking to each other was in the skz survival show, and in that span of time you two grew extremely close (and if you ended up getting eliminated he’d get really sad)

he’s scared to let you into his production studio cause he’s scared that your clumsy ass would do something, but you never really do anything

if you speak english you two probably have weird conversations in english. quoting vines and inside jokes

on break days he takes you out to get boba and just chat, and usually in the morning when it’s less busy and more peaceful

he lets you take his hoodies cause he thinks you look adorable in them, and also when you give them back to him they smell like daisies

if you get hurt in any way, shape or form he gets very upset cause he really doesn’t like seeing you in pain

one time he caught you crying to yourself because of hate comments directed towards you and his heart shattered

he actually ended up tearing up himself and offered to buy you something to make you feel better

if you’re one of the main vocalists you and him probably have high note competitions, since the two of you probably had iconic high note parts

you also pinch his cheeks a lot cause you like how he just looks like a cute squirrel

which results in him pinching you back

jisung would cherish you like treasure since you’re so valuable to him, and you’re one of the reasons he’s able to keep going in his harsh idol life

a few simple words to sum up your friendship; a cacophony of chaos and screaming

you and felix just have the weirdest but at the same time also one of the strongest friendships in stray kids

if you’re a foreigner the friendship is even stronger, cause you two can relate more easily, and ESPECIALLY if you’re an english speaking one

also if you’re australian like him, the chaos is just even worse. a bunch of australian slangs here and there as well as saying inside jokes

he definitely texts you at 3am to talk about something he thought of or just to send you stupid memes

also probably infected you with his dabbing and fortnite phase

you also probably tease him about his sexy moments on stage, like when he lifted up his shirt. which also made you want to see his abs again

to get back at you he lifted your shirt on stage in front of STAYs to show your own abs and everyone went crazy, and he ended up getting his ass kicked

you two are also like emotional support for each other

since you guys are some of the youngest and had some of the hardest times you know when somethings up, so you two just go and hug/cuddle with each other to let the other one know it’s okay

and you’ve also come up with a way to communicate with each other without the other members knowing to talk about personal things, like a secret language

and if you didn’t have supportive parents in the idol life, felix would automatically connect with you cause he went through something similar

this guy just also wants you to feel safe and loved cause he knows what it’s like to feel so alone

overall you and felix are like two peas in a pod, very alike in many ways but will turn to each other for emotional support or just to feel better

dandy boy seungmin is such a little shit around you

he always teases you and always finds a way to tick you off to see your reactions, such as playing with your hair or stealing your clothes

so you being the petty little bitch you are, you do some things that will trigger his pet peeves, like make a room dirty or not doing chores

and that’s how you developed your evil maknae side, all because of this devil puppy

but even then the bickering isn’t always that bad, that’s just how you two show your love for each other since you guys literally don’t know how to be nice to each other

unless it’s about food or games, then there’s civil acts going on

seungmin actually likes to hug you because you’re like a smol baby chick, but it never really goes further than that

INSULT BATTLES ALL THE DAMN TIME

and it’s usually seungmin who wins them, but when you do win them it’s always a very witty victory

seungmin also knows when something’s up with you. if you suddenly stop acting like a savage around him he knows something is up

so he then investigates, comforts you and caves in to take you out to the mall to make you feel better

he doesn’t think he’s helping that much when those times come to you but he actually helps a lot, cause he gives of this comforting aura that makes you feel safe

also he smells like roses too lmao

seungmin is your pretty and bitchy best friend, but at the end of the day he will always be there for you

the two of you are the; done with everyone’s shit duo, at least when the two of you aren’t causing chaos

you and jeongin are very close in age, so naturally all of the members baby you and while the attention is endearing, it can get out of hand sometimes

so the two of you team up to pull the ultimate pranks on all of the members to get back at them and record all of their reactions

of course this results in scoldings and getting chased by an angry hyunjin holding a broom but it’s still worth it

both of you also compete for who can get more attention if you aren’t getting tired of it

and this can also lead to petty bickering that the other members watch in amusement (and they probably fucking grabbed popcorn too)

jeongin has a good sense of judgement, so he knows when the mood is feeling down

and he usually drags you to the side to plan a way to cheer up the members or bring up a lighthearted mood, since he knows the two of you would make a good plan

he doesn’t really like skinship but he finds it cute when you hug him or hold his arm

and the other members get pressed about this cause you’re allowed to hold his arm but they can’t even touch him with their fingernails

both of you have definitely tried to cook together

and fail miserably, which resulted in MORE scoldings and a temporary banishment from the kitchen, but the way you guys cooked was very funny

you made him a smoothie to make up for the fact that you got him banned from the kitchen cause it was mainly your fault

jeongin would be a more chill and laid-back friend, but he’s still very caring for you and will protect you at all costs

❦

a/n: waeeeee another one done! i had a lot of fun writing this and i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i had fun writing it.

also lee felix get your sexy ass off of my twitter feed i don’t feel like simping

this is @/krysphycookiez logging off... ♡︎

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years ago

Text

Calling It Even

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: You just moved 'across the pond' from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts, but before you actually moved you'd made a friend! Well, two and you just so happen to bump into them at the Leaky Couldren!

Warnings: Swearing, Slightly Suggestive (Ron's raging hormones™).

Note: Hi! This is my first time writing and posting a fic in a few years, so I'm sorry for spelling errors or stupid mistakes! It'll get better as I rewarm my.. Writing.. Muscles? Anyway, Thank you for reading! Let me now if this is good and enjoy!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

Moving from the US to Britain was just as stressful as you figured it would be, but going from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts felt like an actual asteroid was thrown into your world. You had to leave behind your friends, close relatives and of course your home, then you had a whole new school to deal with on top of that. Different houses, different teachers, different classes and the rules. Merlin's beard, were the rules different. You can distinctly remember bombarding your guardian with question after question. You were still surprised you got to carry your wand around with you outside of school! Of course the actual moving process had taken its toll on your guardians, and they knew what it was doing to you. You were tired, emotionally, physically- Godric, did you need a break before school started.

You would be starting your fifth year when summer ended, and that was in a few weeks or so. This should’ve given you the time to gather up the books, potion supplies and robes needed, maybe even find some friends your age, but you had other plans, apparently. You had spent the entire summer huddled over their desk waiting for an owl to return with a response letter and avoiding the cluttered shopping strip. You didn’t wanna tackle getting lost and missing a response from your favorite redheads. Now, your headmaster at Ilvermorny had recommended you create a quill-pal at Hogwarts so it felt less chaotic when you arrived, but you ended up finding two that were the pure embodiment of chaos.

So, technically, you did end up making friends with the program, just not what you expected. Each letter was seemingly cut in half, one with orange ink, one with purple. In said response, you learned the orange was usually Fred and purple was usually Georges. In said letters, you learned they are two years older than you, live in what they call a ‘Burrow’ and owning their own shop was definitely wrapped in their future. You spent a solid year getting to know the Infamously Famous,Charming and Totally Destructive personality of the Weasley Twins. Honestly, you seriously looked forward to seeing them in person, even if it was their last year. You three managed to get along like you’d known each other their entire lives. Best part is they promised to find you on the first day and show you around!

You remember Fred mentioning their roles on the Quidditch team and George saying something about pranks with fireworks and you knew. Oh, you knew the three of you would cause chaos and you were so excited. The red-headed duo also promised they’d introduce you to their friends and their extensive family. Fred had brought up having a younger brother your age and judging from the cluttered moving photo they sent you, he was awkward but in the best way. You managed to remember the names of the red-headed family members only because of the scribbled writing on said photo pointing out who was who. But for whatever reason, the youngest Weasley son always manages to be the first one you notice yourself staring at. He was genuinely really cute. Blue eyes, freckles, red hair, absolutely adorable- Ok. So you may have a crush on him without even knowing him but you can not blame yourself. The twins told you stories about the younger redhead and he only got cuter as time went on, but I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?

Currently, you are walking down Diagon Alley. Not only did you need a break from unpacking, sorting and waiting for the Weasley's owl to return, but you also needed to restock on quills. Yup. Of all things, quills. (P/n) has this terrible chewing habit and adores the flavor of quills, or so you guess. You loved the rascal to bits, but damn, they ate the feathers like they drank water. Your guardian said they would finish unpacking the very few boxes your family were collectively avoiding while you went shopping down the popular alley. Oh! And speaking of water, you glanced up from the cobblestone pathway and noted the Leaky Cauldron sign hanging a few shops down. You’d heard stories of how comfortable the atmosphere of the little restaurant had been from the Weasleys and you couldn’t help but overhear wizards and witches around you chatting it up about possibly getting a butterbeer. You decided, why not? Could spare a few coins to buy the golden drink or maybe just a water. It was, like, 90 degrees outside and the cluttered path way didn’t help the soft summer breeze flow through at all.

You gently nudged your way through the bustling crowd of wizards and witches and pushed open the creaky old door. The smell of sweetness and smoke hit your noise as you stepped in, your eyes briefly wandering over the crowd, looking for an empty table. Once you spotted a table for two in the corner, you gently shuffled past crowded tables and rushed waiters apologizing as you went by. Finally sitting down at the small table, you let out a relieved sigh, not noticing a set of eyes following your every movement. Your eyes easily wandered around the shop but landed on piercing blue across the small restaurant. You immediately snapped your gaze to the fire pit and walls, choosing to avoid the gaze until a server walked over. You were tracing the gray, worn down bricks of the wall right next to you when an older woman in a simple uniform walked over the table.

“Good evenin, love. What can I get you?” she casted a bright smile your way, her hands in the small pocket of her apron as she waited for a response.

“Just a butterbeer, please.” You managed to stutter out, sending her a shy smile back. She nodded her head and headed off to another table after putting in your order.

Once she left, your eyes met a set of blue eyes once again. The longer you looked, the more you thought they were formilair, but you turned away, choosing not to dwell on anything besides the table that was placed in front of you. You were so busy tracing the grooves in the old wooden table, you didn’t notice the owner of the blue eyes nudge the red-head next to him and point in your direction. What finally brought you out of the tracing trance was a glass mug filled with liquid golden and soft foam slide toward you, followed by the sound of chairs scraping the old wooden floor and a distinct female voice calling out “where are you two going now?” Your hands wrapped around the glass and just before you could bring it to your lips, two people moving toward the table got your attention. You turned to look up and almost choked on air, your chest shaking as you coughed causing your mug to nearly empty all over the table. You didn’t even have time to fully register who was advancing closer because the warm drink was flowing off the table and onto your new shirt.

“Shit-!” You grumbled down at the spilt mess. Feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, you placed the mug down hoping to save what was left in it as you grabbed napkins.

“Now, I knew we shocked people, but I had no idea we had this kind of effect, Georgie.” Fred spoke and took up the seat across from you, causing his twin to let out a snort. Your head shot up at the sound of the British accent. He'd managed to effectively put a stop to you drying up the mess with one sentence. Fred grabbed a few to help wipe down the table, but was far more focused on your reaction. Your eyes snapped over to George as he leaned on the back of his brother's chair and flickered between the two freckle covered idiots. You made a mental note of who was who.

“Do you always sneak up on your victims or do you introduce yourselves like normal people?” You scoffed out, a smile growing on your face as you awkwardly piled up the useless napkins.

“We only sneak up on people we’ve been friends with for years and finally get to meet.” George spoke, sass laced in his voice.

“Oh please. It’s been like 1 year.” You rolled your eyes, reaching for your cup again and taking a small sip.

“And I don’t think we got an anniversary gift from you, love. I believe you owe us an apology. Missing our 1 year anniversary like that.” Fred spoke, a hand going to his chest in fake shock as George just tsked and shook his head responding with his own ”Shame, really.”

You let out your own soft laugh and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I'm sorry.” You spoke setting your glass down again, sarcasm dripping from you as you crossed your arms over the table and leaned forward. “I didn’t realize I got something from you two for our ‘one year anniversary’.” You used air quotes, outlining the obvious.

“Godric, it’s so good to meet someone who finally matches our sass level.” Fred smiled at you. “But how did you not see us?” he used his thumb to point at a table behind him, almost taking out George's eye.

“Oi. Watch it.” the ever so slightly younger twin shoved the hand in his face away.

“Well, obviously, I didn’t expect you to run into you guys here.” You spoke, finishing the little amount of what was left of the butterbeer. After wiping your mouth on your sleeve, you shot the two a playful glare. “You owe me a drink.”

“Or you can meet Ickle Ronniekins and we can call it even.”

“That doesn’t even come close to equal.” You whined, sitting back in your chair, your head hitting the wall behind you a little too sharply. As much as you wanted to meet the younger bro, you were nervous. You may have let it slip out to the brothers that you desperately wanted to get to know Ron, but what if he didn't like you?

It didn't matter what you thought. You didn’t have a choice because the two may or may not have shipped you two, but that’s for them to know and for you to never, ever, ever find out. The twins let out a laugh at your demise and both stood up, one grabbing the empty mug and the other practically dragging you out of your cozy corner.

“I say it’s fair.” George spoke, following the older redhead who was almost quit literally dragging you by the arm. The two idiots led you to a table in the middle, where it was borderline empty besides 3 people sitting, all chatting to themselves. The chatting came to a stop when George set your mug down in the middle and Fred forced you to sit across from another redhead, who you quickly recognized.

“Um, Fred..” The witch next to Ron spoke up just as Fred sat to your left and George to your right. “Who is this?”

“This, Granger, is our quill-pal, (Y/n). He comes from America and just transferred over. Good old quill-pal (Y/n), meet Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and our own little Ickle Ronniekins.” Fred pointed to each witch and wizard, pointing them out so you could put names to faces. The nickname caused Ron to groan out a ‘shod off, Fred’, to which the older brother just snickered.

“Oh, hi! I’ve heard alot about you guys.” You smiled, casting them a small wave. Your accent, to them, was very interesting. It was so different from what they were used to, which definitely wasn’t a bad thing. They actually thought it fit you really well.

“Well, (y/n), it’s great to meet you.” Harry spoke up, a smile replacing the confused expression he once held. He was just relieved you weren’t asking for an autograph or constantly shaking his hand. It was refreshing.

“Likewise!” You flashed a smile to the messy raven haired dude before stretching back in your chair, head turning, trying to avoid the twins in his view to find a waitress. You gave up on searching when the twins purposefully blocked your view and Ron cleared his throat.

“Wait.. This is (y/n)? The bloak you guys don’t shut up about?” Ron pointed at you, almost as if accusing you of causing him pain. The twins nodded their heads, in sync, while landing a kick to both of his legs. “Ow-! I'm just asking!” he rubbed his bruised shins and rested his chin on the table so he could shoot them a glare. “Arse holes.” He grumbled. The twins gave him a sort of look that meant ‘shut up or we will not hesitate to strike again’ and honestly, Ron felt a tiny bit of fear enter his soul and his glare dropped.

“Aww! Did you two really mention me that much? I’m flattered, boys!” A confident smirk stretched across your face as the twins blushed ever so slightly, George a little redder than Fred.

“No.” They countered.

“Yes.” Ron groaned out, wanting revenge for the kicks. ”Merlin. They’d go on and on about how cool you were. ‘Ma, he said he plays Quidditch, too! Can we get the booms out?’, ‘His favorite color is (f/c) and his favorite animal is (f/a)! We should work on (f/c) (f/a) fireworks for him!’. My family officially knows more about you than I know about the Chudley Cannons.” He ran his right hand through his hair and his left waved around as he spoke. You couldn’t help but snicker. “It’s been actual hell. I’m just glad you're here so they can shut up.”

Harry nudged his best friend in the side before speaking. “Hey, be nice, This is probably their first crush!” The comment caused Hermione to almost snort butterbeer, Ron let out a very loud laugh and you to high five Harry meanwhile the twins turned redder than their quidditch uniforms.

“Oi, Potter. I will burn your broomstick.” Fred threatened, pointing at the boy who lived.

“Aw come on Freddie, be nice. It isn’t their fault you gave them the material for this. Relax, bud.” You shoved his hand away.

George took your mug and slid it out of your reach and to the end of the table. “Well, we were gonna buy you another drink, but since you're being an arse, you're not getting a sickle from us.” George turned to you and stuck out his tongue.

The simple banter continued as the 6 of you sat in front of the simple fireplace, laughter filling the little stone eatery. You had known the group in person for about 15 minutes and you already fit in like a puzzle piece. After a few more butter beers and another 15 minutes later, the 6 of you had decided to go on the hunt for some goodies, so you all paid for the drinks and led the cluttered restaurant. Fred and George started off leading the group, but got sidetracked at Zonko’s. Hermione had practically dragged Harry off into Flourish and Blotts when he mentioned not having his school supplies. That left you and Ron alone to get to know eachother better.

“So, what’s Ilvermorny like?” He asked, his hands in his pockets as he walked beside you.

“Well.. " you hesitated."Definitely different, if what Fred and George said was true. We don’t have a sorting hat, instead statues would pick who they want. It’s a whole history thing. Everyone's robes are blue and this reddish color, so i'm excited for a change! And jeez, the wand rules. They're, at least, 10 times stricter than here. I had to get sorted before I could even hold a wand and Ilvermony students can’t legally have wands until their 17. Bullshit if you ask me.” You scoffed. “I was put in Wampus. I guess that's a cool thing.” This caused Ron to let out a snort and a cackling laugh.

“I’m sorry- you got put in what??” He turned to you, a huge smile on his lips.

“A-A wampus?” You spoke, hoping he’d ignore the stutter. You ended up staring at his smiling face, making a promise to make him laugh whenever it was physically possible. It was so perfect.

“Aaaanndd that is what, exactly?” The redhead's smile turned into a small smirk as he responded. “Is it like- like a creature or a plant? It sounds like a plant-”

“How on earth does Wampus sound like a plant??” You looked at him with a confused expression. Your arm shot out to punch his bicep lightly. “Of course it’s a creature, Ronald!”

You went on to explain all about what a wampus was, however, Ron was no longer listening. He was slowly drifting toward the quidditch shop, his jaw practically on the floor. He pressed his freckled covered hands to the glass window of the shop.

“You really must be yanking my wand! Do you see this?!” The redhead was drooling over a brand new broom. The little plastic sign next to the window model read ‘Firebolt Y.5’

“Oh my go-Is that-” You stood next to him, a look of shock. “How did I walk past this shop and NOT see this??” You grabbed his arm and whisked him away from the window, bringing him into the shop. Quidditch, of course, was your favorite sport. You were even on the Wampus quidditch team! You played a seeker and you loved to believe you were the best! “Oh my god, yes. If I had this across the pond” you spoke while pointing at the brooms hanging on the walls, "I'd be the best damn seeker in Ilvermorny history!” You all but squealed out.

While you were ranting about the possibilities of owning this bad boy, Ron was noticing something. He was noticing, since you grabbed his arm, he wanted to hold your hand. He was noticing how your eyes lit up while you were talking about destroying other teams on the fields and how big your smile was and how cute- Cute. Cute?

Wait.

Hold on. Cute? You? He thought he thought Hermione was cute? But now, now it was you. You suddenly clouded his mind and he'd only know you for less than an hour? He blamed his hormones.. Or maybe it was the way your eyes were sparkling so much more when compared to the photo you sent his brothers. Or your stupid perfect hair was so perfect even if it was a mess from constantly running your fingers through it. Every freckle, every mole, every dimple on your skin, he wanted to memorize it all. Suddenly, you turned to him, the smile wider than before. Shit, you were waiting for a response, but he was too wrapped up in how perfect you were for him to think straight.

“WhUt?” His voice cracked as he basically shouted at you. His face turned pink with embarrassment, but it transformed into a color to rival the Gryffindor red he usually sported during the school year. The poor git basically melted into a puddle when he heard you let out a giggle.

“I was asking if you wanted to split the cost! Fred and George told me when Harry got his Firebolt, but I bet it’s nothing compared to this baby. We could split it!” You were basically jumping up and down.

Ron blinked a few times, his brain trying to process everything. “Split?”

“Yes, Ronnie. Split.” You giggled, wrapping your arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer to your side.

“Ronnie split.” He muttered without realizing it. ��OH! Oh- The broom! Split the broom! Cost! Right!” he ran a hand through his hair, his entire face felt hot. Ron was sure his face was blending in with his red locks. “I-I can check! With Fred and George and- and we see?” He squeaked, noticing how close he was to you. He audibly gulped, his tongue poking out to lick his suddenly dry lips.

“Cool! We could all share it!” You reached into your pocket, pulling out all the coins nestled in your pocket. As you counted over the coins, the only words that stuck in Ron’s head were ‘we’ ‘share’ and he could basically hear sirens going off. You’d already gotten to know his older brothers. What if you already liked one? Or both? He didn’t even know if you were single.

“Ah- Well i'm sure we can just handle it. Just the two of us.” He clapped his hands together, choosing not to think of how much attention the noise brought him. You looked at him with a confused expression but let it be with a shrug.

“If you say so, Ronnie.” You smiled, shaking your head. You had no idea the redhead was avoiding the idea of his brothers sharing you instead of the broomstick.”Iiisss there a reason you don’t wanna share?” You asked as you shoved your hands in your pockets, putting the coins away. You missed Ron's face turning bright red as you gazed on at the Chudley Cannons merchandise hanging off the walls.

“I-I’m just sick of sharing with my siblings, y-ya know?” His voice cracked as he spoke, but he tried to cover it up with a cough. “Um.. I do have a lot of older brothers, so hand-me-downs are really all I get-”

“Oooh, right. Right. That’s fair.” you looked down at your feet. You forgot. Gerd and Feorge didn't throw it in your face, but they did mention when money got tight and how they planned on opening a joke shop and how they told their products to kids for extra cash. You should've remembered. You cleared your throat, your eyes darting to him, to the door back to him. Desperate for a way to change the atmosphere, you offered leaving the store. "Honeydukes?” you asked way too loudly in the small shop. ”Wanna.. Go to Honeydukes?" You cleared your throat into your hand. Ron couldn't have agreed fast enough.

The two of you walked out of the store, making small, awkward talk as you continued your stroll across the stoley path. When you came up to Honeydukes Ron, to your surprise, hurried to the door and held it open for you. As you walked in, he did a playful bow as if you were royalty. It brought a smile to your face and things fell into the rhythm from before.

"I'm not too keen on pumpkin pasties, but I do love chocolate frogs. When I was a kid, I dreamed of being put on one of the cards, but that kinda faded. I’m thinking maybe a famous quidditch player? Not quite sure yet." You rambled as Ron grabbed what someone might consider way too much of the chocolate treat. He would call that someone insane and double the batch. While he was literally filling his arms with the small boxes, you were busy looking at the candy wands, your mouth practically drooling at the idea of sweets. "We don't have a lot of this across the pond." you muttered to yourself as you reached across a table to grab a few different boxes of candy you've never tried before, one being Bertie Bott’s Everything Flavored Beans.

"Really? What are you used to?" Ron spoke up behind you, his eyes going from the candy resting in your hands to your forearm. The redhead found his eyes trailing up and landing on your bicep, causing his mind to wonder and basically dive head first into the gutter.

"Well, we had candies like Skittling Soot Poppers. They're these dark chocolate little balls that pop in your mouth once the chocolate melts. It's so cool! If you put one in your mouth and keep it open, sparks will come out. All kinds of colors, too." you smiled, remembering staying up far too late into the night with your Wumpas housemates and munching away. "Oh! And these little cakes called Twinkles. They would glitter like gold in the moonlight, but turn silver in the sun. They always taste like vanilla and cream."

Ron gulped. We all know what he's thinking at this point. He'd love to try some cream, and not the filling of the Twinkles, if ya catch my drift. He blinked out of a fantasy and shook his head. Bad Ronald. He scolded himself, but was yeeted out of his head when he heard you laugh.

"What? What's so funny?" his head tilted like a confused puppy, one of the chocolate frogs falling from the top of the pile and landing with a soft thud. As you bent down to pick up the box for him, you answered his question.

"Nothing, you're just being cute." you set the chocolate frog box on top of his pile and began down the aisle way.

"W.. Wait, really?!"

His response brought a snort out of you. He sounded so excited it made your heart jump. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it, Ronnie. Godric, even that was cute." You spoke as you turned the corner and headed down a new aisle. Your eyes scanned along the other treats laid out on the shelves while your hand grabbed a few sugar quills. “Ok, I think we got enough now. What do ya think?” You turned to where you thought he was, but your view lacked the pale freckled boy. “Ron?” Your voice carried through the store. “Ronnie?” You called out again as you went to the last aisle you saw him at. When your head popped around the corner you were met with a sight you thought was kodiak worthy.

There he was, bright red in the face, bright wide blue eyes standing out against his red skin, mouth hanging open and every chocolate frog box laying at his feet. You broke him. How the hell did he manage to get cuter?

“Ron?” Your legs moved without you even demanding them too and soon you stood in front of him. Has he even blinked? Is.. Is he ok? Shifting the candies in your arms, you managed to free a hand to gently close his mouth. “Hello? Are the lights on inside?”

“You said I was cute.” You were lucky you heard him over the crowded shop.

“Yes, Red.” You spoke, a giggle escaping your lips. “We established this already.” You shook your head, but it was halted when his blue eyes finally landed on your own, causing a heat to spread to your ears.

“Yeah.. But what KIND of cute?”

“Kind? What?”

“There are different kinds. Like am I cute like a crup or am I.. Am.. Like am I romantic-” He froze again when you leaned over and kissed his cheek, hopefully answering his question. You chose to ignore the grumpy customers trying to fit down the aisle and, instead, rested your hand on his hand. You would’ve held it but the stupid boxes of cursed choco frogos where in the way. “I hope that was ok.” You, also, chose to ignore his tiny, squeaky ‘bloody hell’ and dragged him to the counter.

“Ya know, when your brothers told me about you, I couldn’t get you out of my head.” You confessed, laying all the candy out on the counter and turned to him again. His blush had died down and he wasn’t as jumpy or frozen. Ron followed suit and dumped the boxes onto the counter and immediately whipped his hands on his jeans.

“I-I was glad I got to hear about you everyday.” He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared down at his shoes. “I um- I wanted to write, but uh, thought it would be weird.” He didn’t turn to look at you but his crystal blue eyes bounced between you, the candy and the glass counter in front of him. “A-and I’d love to get to know you more. And m.. Maybe do this again? Just you and me? Again?”

Your face almost split in two as you felt Ron’s hand brush against yours.. “I would absolutely adore to do this again, Ronnie.” He intertwined his fingers with yours, his blush coming back easily, causing you to let out a chuckle. While you did end up paying for most of the candy and forgetting about the quills, you managed to leave hand in hand with the red haired Chudley Cannon loving dork. Of course this caused the twins to tease you relentlessly about falling so hard for their baby brother. Hell, they even made a lame song, something about ‘Ronnie I love you’ and ‘when we’re apart my heart beats only for you’. It literally never stopped. In fact it got worse as time went on, especially when you were sorted into Gryffindor once school started.

Oh, but was so worth it.

#ron weasley x male reader #ron weasley #ron weasley imagine #male reader #fred and george #hp x male reader #hp imagine #fred weasley #george weasley #harry potter #hermione granger #x male reader #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

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ghoul-lover9000 · 5 years ago

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Dating Ace Merrill Would Include

You’re the nicest person in Castle Rock. Everyone loves you. You’ve never done anything wrong ever! At least, most of the residents of your small town believe this. Your reputation is pristine, your look is clean-cut, but your actions when no one is looking are less than pure.

I fully believe that Ace would be over the moon about a slightly manipulative, secretly bad person. Like you steal things from the General Store, but who would suspect you! You’re so respectful and upstanding; it was probably the neighborhood hooligans at it again.

Ace catches you taking some cash from a store’s register while the clerk was in the backroom and he cannot believe his eyes. The same person who helps old ladies cross the street or what-the-fuck-ever is stealing from the local grocer.

He comes up to you at school and slyly mentions it. “So, babe, you make a habit out of stealing?” You’re taken aback, you were so careful and, after years, you’ve finally been caught by one of the infamous guys in school. “What are you talking about, sleaze ball?”

Let’s cut to the chase, you both come to a mutual understanding. You go on with your stealing and he takes a 20% cut. (You both negotiate for an hour or so. You’re both so fucking stubborn.) This business proposition is the start of a beautiful… sexual relationship.

Yeah, you both are attracted to each other and you both are horny high school kids. Things happen. (Could go into detail, but that’s for another imagine, for another day)

However, he gets possessive of you. If one of his boys sees you at a Drive-In movie with Tommy Richardson, you best believe Tommy’s tires are gonna be slashed and Ace is coming to have a chat with you. Ace: What do you think you’re doing running around with a meathead like Richardson. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize I was your ward. What are you, the holy unfeeling Ace, so jealous about anyway?” Ace: I’m not jealous, just making sure you’re not going straight for good. I gotta make sure I get my cut. “Well, cool down, hot head, it’s an act. Sweetest girl in school like me and I haven’t got a fella. I can’t just sneak around. My reputation would take a hit and that threatens your precious money more than me going out to a shitty movie with the only guy in town that’s a bigger asshole than you.” Ace: Oh, my reputation, my reputation, my reputation. Can you be concerned with anything other than what local busybodies say about you? Then, we wouldn’t have to sneak aro-… “Finish that sentence.” Ace: No. “No, finish. You don’t want to sneak around? What more do you want?” Ace: You’re putting words in my mouth. Just stop being so uptight all of the time. “No, it’s all so clear. You really are jealous of Tommy! You like-” Ace: Shut up! “No, Merrill. You like me, you want me to be your girl. You wanna go steady!” Ace: Fine, you fucking menace. What if I do? “Well, then I guess you’ll have to take me out, dream boat.”

Your first date is very representative of the both of you. You work your magic and, instead of money, you get a bunch of snacks (Box of Atomic Fire Balls, Box of Sugar Babies, two Cokes, two big bags of Bar-B-Q chips, and a pint of vanilla ice cream). After the heist, Ace drives you guys up to a point that overlooks Castle Rock. You both sit on the hood of the car, snack, smoke, and ask each other some of the stupidest questions ever. A few quotes from the night- “What are three things that you would buy to weird out a clerk?” “You would not survive the Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Aliens would inhabit your body in the first few days.” “The zombie apocalypse is nigh. You have a baseball bat and station wagon. What’s your next move?”

You both stop sneaking around and the whole town is shocked. You with Castle Rock’s violent leader of the Cobras? Anytime someone asked you what you’re doing, you just smile secretively and say, “Oh, I don’t know. He’s not that bad.”

You would never say out loud that Ace had a soft spot for you because, to quote Ace himself, “I’m not soft, sweetheart”, but he’s so soft for you.

He likes to see you wearing his Hawaiian shirts, especially around town because, like stated before, he is possessive as fuck and wants the whole town to know whose girl you are.

The Cobras know not to make fun of how whipped he is for you because he will make them eat dirt if they do. Also, they know about your undesirable habits, so you kind of become apart of the gang a little bit because they’ll ask for favors from you like “Hey, Y/N, I scored another date with Nancy Baughman and I was wondering if you could steal some *whispers* rubbers from the Johnson’s General Store. I don’t got any money and, plus, my mom is real close with Mrs. Johnson and you know how people talk.” “Say no more.”

You both are very sarcastic in the way you call each other pet names. It’s so confusing to other people. Ace: Y/N, darling, love of my life, what the fuck are you doing? “Acey-baby, stud muffin, what does it look like, dumb fuck?” He does call you “baby” on a regular basis, the only pet name that isn’t completely sarcastic.

You only call him John, his real name, in really intimate situations where you both are alone like late at night when he’s snuck into your house when he can’t be at home anymore.

He ruffles your hair a lot. I have no real explanation for this except that he just wants to piss you off by messing up your hair, the little shit.

Any guy who flirts with you or harasses you is dead. He’ll fight the whole school for you. Really, who’s dumb enough to fight him? He’s made it known to the whole town that he’s a force to be reckoned with.

You both go out for rides together and he’s just the smallest bit less reckless with you in the car. Don’t bring it up because he will start swerving back and forth on the road like an asshole if you do.

When you walk around town together, he gets more glares than usual because everyone thinks that he’s corrupting you and trying to turn you into a bad egg. You think it’s hilarious and you bring it up as much as you can. *Ace offers you a beer* “Oh, Ace Merrill, you bad boy, you! Introducing me to alcohol, the sinner’s water.” Ace: Do you want the fucking drink or not.

He gets you back for the previous bullet point when Teddy Duchamp gets a very obvious crush on you for a month or so and unashamedly starts talking to you when he sees you around town. *Teddy starts walking up to you with the unwavering confidence of a peacock* Ace: Oh, look, Y/N, it’s your preteen knight here to sweep you off your feet. (Also Ace: Beat it, Duchamp. She’s mine.)

#stand by me fanfic #stand by me headcanon #stand by me #80s movie #john merrill #ace x reader #ace merrill #ace merrill imagine #dating would include #ace merrill headcanon #imagine #headcanon #x reader #kiefer sutherland

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randomoranges · 4 years ago

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club 1642 - the introduction

Club 1642 is thriving and noisy, just the way it normally is on a Saturday night and even though Edward usually loves the hustle and bustle of the place, he makes his way through the boisterous crowd towards the bar in search for a drink and maybe a small reprieve. He’s been coming here often, well over a year now, and he’s rather fond of the place.

It had taken him a right long time to finally visit, but now he’s glad he does. Club 1642 has been escapism, nostalgic yearning, and a hope for better things to come.

It started, really, before he’d moved to the city. Before the promotion, before the semi-imposed exile. He’d been a regular at a similar type of club back home. However, instead of being a guest, he’d been there, on stage, with the other wonderful performers. He’d been Kate then, and she’d been spectacular. She’d been in all sorts of shows, had been invited as a guest judge to some events, had been in her fair share of parades and she’d made a difference in the community.

And then the proverbial shit had hit the proverbial fan.

Edward doesn’t like rehashing the events that had brought him here, so he doesn’t, but when he’d landed in Montreal, it had been to start over. He’d kept his head low, had slowly found his footing, had climbed the ladder at the Montreal branch of the company he worked for and had eventually found love.

Or – so he thought.

Dave had been kind. Dave had been nice. Dave had been nothing like all the other men Edward had ever brought to bed and Edward had thought that he could share anything with him. Therefore, one day, when he’d heard of the infamous Club 1642, he’d asked Dave if he’d want to come.

Dave had been downright rude, calling “those people” all sorts of terrible names Edward doesn’t want to remember. Edward had called him out on it, had asked him to at least have an open mind and go once, and when that hadn’t worked in his favour, he’d done the mistake of revealing his secret – of telling him about Kate.

Edward hadn’t seen Dave since.

Dave’s reaction had only further cemented Edward’s fear that there was no place for people like him in this world, so he’d forgotten about Club 1642, had kept Kate closer to his heart and had pretended he was just another guy going to his otherwise regular job.

But the fact was that he missed it. He missed transforming himself into an entirely different person. He missed the rush of adrenaline he got from performing. He missed the late nights and the bright lights. He missed lingering in the dressing rooms and chatting with his friends. He missed how good it felt to change into the satin dresses and the high-heeled shoes; the application of rouge and polish – the overall reveal of Kate. The freedom she brought him.

Therefore, he made a compromise with himself; he decided he could visit the club on his own and no one needed to know. A little treat for himself.

He’d absolutely loved the club. There was a reason it was quoted as the best in the city and Edward had gone as often as he could, never with someone and always alone. He’d lived vicariously through the performances, had reminisced about his own triumphs and had slowly, slowly, rekindled with his old flame. (Had even gone so far, on most occasions when he got home, as to take out the old heels, the old dresses and the wigs he’d once worn. Had dressed herself up, if only for a moment, for a very private performance in the washroom, only to relive the feeling for a moment or two. It was still – he wasn’t – she wasn’t ready. They weren’t, really. Not after the fiasco and the debacle. But – maybe soon.)

Therefore, by now, Edward is very familiar with most of the staff who works at the club. Some of them recognise him, some he has casual conversations with, but when Edward gets to the bar, he’s completely flummoxed by the bartender.

Firstly, Edward has never seen this person before.

Secondly, Edward would remember ever seeing this person.

Thirdly, Edward loses all sense of speech, as he can’t help but stare.

This person is gorgeous.

For starters, their hair deserves a mention of its own. Edward has never seen such beautiful, long curly hair ever. It cascades past the bartender’s shoulders and stops mid back. Some of it has been gathered in a half bun and a rebellious curly strand frames the person’s face. It looks incredibly soft and it’s a shade or two lighter than Edward’s own dark brown hair. Edward finds himself thinking that he’d love to gently tug on a curl and see if it would bounce back in place. Run his fingers through the tendrils, maybe even braid it.

The bartender seems to dance as they twirl and step to their own rhythm as they prepare one drink after another and Edward takes in the sight of the person. Considering where he is, Edward isn’t sure if the bartender is part of the performers or not – if they’re part of the queens or not. It doesn’t matter, really, and he doesn’t care if they are or not, but he finds himself pulled by this person’s charisma regardless.

The outfit the bartender wears does little to help Edward figure out if they’re meant to be behind a bar or up on stage. It’s extravagant, for one, but then again, everything about the club is. For all he knows, this person might simply want to dress like this. The top of the outfit reminds Edward of something straight out of a French Revolution film. There are ruffles at the collar of the white shirt they have, a deep blue waistcoat that seems to be made of velvet and bright golden buttons along the way. The waistcoat’s arms stop just slightly above the bartender’s wrists and Edward watches as long elegant fingers wrap around glasses as they prepare drinks. Edward catches sight of carefully manicured nails painted in dark polish, bangles and rings that adorn both wrists and digits. Edward only catches a glimpse of the bottom part of the outfit when the bartender walks a few paces away to retrieve a specific bottle of liqueur. He really tries not to let his eyes linger too long on the bartender’s long, long legs, the tightness of the velvet pants decorated once more with the bright golden buttons or the high-heeled shoes they seem to be wearing.

His cheeks flush and turn bright red when the bartender turns around and catches him staring. They grin, and it’s an amused sort of grin as they walk back to the counter, wink at him, and then prepare the drink for the other patron. They make small talk with the customer and Edward focuses on the pretty smile on their face, the deep red of their lips, and the long lashes that frame their eyes.

“What can I get you, Sugar?”

Edward blinks, not having realised that he was next to be served. It does nothing to help the heat in his cheeks go away and if anything, the bartender looks immensely amused.

Edward clears his throat and tries to regain his composure, but he gets lost in the green of the bartender’s eyes and the way their curly hair frames their face. He stands by what he thought earlier; they’re gorgeous.

The bartender laughs and Edward thinks it’s the prettiest laugh he’s ever heard; “Cat’s got your tongue? Here, why don’t I make you the house special? On me.” They wink again and go back to their twirling as they reach out for one bottle and then the next. It’s like a well rehearsed number and Edward stares as he tries to get his brain to reboot.

“Go ahead, have a sip, and tell me what you think,” They say handing him the drink. There’s a paper umbrella in it, the concoction is colourful and the coldness of the glass does wonder to his sweaty palms. He takes a sip to buy himself some time and maybe he’s biased, but it tastes good. He manages an appreciative noise and the bartender looks even more pleased. Edward takes it as a win, hopes he can string together a few words of thanks as he fishes out his wallet, and puts a twenty in the tip jar.

“That’s very generous of you, even if unnecessary.” They say as they lean against the counter. It almost seems like flirting, but Edward doesn’t count on it. They’re probably doing it as part of their job, being nice to the patrons of the club and such. Still, Edward revels in it for a moment, let’s himself feel good.

“Are you new here?” He manages to say when really, he’d want to say something suave and cool like “why don’t we have a drink together?” or “what time do you get off at?”

Instead, the bartender laughs, as if tremendously amused by a clever joke Edward has shared with them. Edward would normally be offended by the reaction, but instead he just politely smiles and takes another sip of the drink.

“Oh, Sugar, no, I’ve been here for many years now, except I’m not normally at the bar; I’ve just stepped in for Paul for the night.” They give him a soft smile that settles somewhere deep in Edward’s stomach and makes his heart beat just a little faster. He wonders if maybe he’s been single for too long that just a smile from the bartender can set him off like this, or if maybe this is something he should further investigate. He puts the thought at the back of his mind and instead focuses on his conversation. At least, now he knows why the new bartender doesn’t look familiar, even if it leaves him wondering what exactly it is they normally do.

“Oh, I’ve never seen you around.” He says instead. It’s a platitude and it’s not exactly the greatest of conversation topics, but it is the truth.

“I would be impressed if you had! I work backstage.”

Edward blinks, still unsure whether or not they mean it as one of the performers or some stagehand, but he doesn’t want to be rude, so he keeps quiet and drinks. He doesn’t want to assume.

“That does explain it then,” He offers instead, “Still, it was nice meeting you.” He honestly means it and doesn’t want the bartender to read too much into it. Sure, Edward thinks they look good, sure, he wouldn’t mind to pursue this further, but he’s not fishing for anything else – unless of course they’re interested.

“Likewise,” They beam, “Who knows, maybe I’ll get to see you again.”

Edward has no idea what they mean by it, but it would be nice, even if just for a quick chat at the bar; it’ll make his whole experience slightly less lonely. Ever since his debacle with Dave, Edward hasn’t had the guts to invite anyone over to the club in fear of having to live through the insults yet again. He’s done with that scene. The club, he’s decided, is something for him and him alone. A safe haven for his soul.

“That would be great; who should I ask for if ever?”

“Teddy; they call me Teddy around these parts.”

“Teddy,” Edward repeats over the noise of the club. He’d been expecting something like Miss Salacious or Lady Marmalade, but Teddy seems to suit them just fine. It leaves a little mystery to them and Edward finds that he doesn’t mind and actually likes it. “It’s been a pleasure; I’m Edward.” He offers Teddy a hand to shake, mostly out of reflex and partially out of a lack of something better to do. He thinks of leaving his phone number on a paper napkin, but maybe that’s a little bit too much.

Instead, Teddy looks at his offered hand and laughs that wonderful laugh of his again as he takes and shakes it. “Likewise,” They say and maybe Edward imagines it, but the handshake lasts a second longer than it should (not that he minds) and between the smile on Teddy’s face and the warmth of his hand, Edward finds himself hoping he’ll see them again soon.

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #au #ficlet #3 sentence fic meme thing #club 1642

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crystaljins · 5 years ago

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Sweet danger

Characters: Seokjin x reader

Word count: 1.9 K

Synopsis: 4. mafia!au + 3. meet cute + 17. “ hold your fire! ” [drabble game]

Notes: This one took a long time because I have to admit, mafia aus are too dark for me. I get too scared to write them lol. Like how do I write something romantic about a character who does all the nasty stuff associated with an organised crime ring? And then I thought “Huh but what if they don’t do that” and thus this drabble was born. Also I know you requested quote 19 (which is really popular for some reason???) but that’s already been done so I chose my own one. And I picked a member too. Enjoy!!

Eatjin’s bakery is a pleasant sort of place. It has rosy pink walls and the air smells of vanilla and sugar. The tables are pure white with carefully crafted edges that looks like vanilla frosting on the edge of a cake. The entrance, a simple glass door that lets passers-by peer curiously into the interior, is protected from rain by a bright pink and white striped awning. On either side of the white door are two carefully kept flower beds, with brightly coloured flowers lovingly chosen by the owner. And in the centre of the glass door is gold calligraphy proudly proclaiming the name of the bakery, ones that match perfectly with the elongated golden door handle. The metal is cool as you shakily wrap your fingers around it.

A bell chimes brightly as you push the door open. No one else is inside, currently, which is exactly what you need. You don’t need anyone else to witness your current state. You’d managed to wash the dirt and grime out of your hair, and a thick layer of makeup conceals the dark circles under your eyes. So you look presentable, at least. As presentable as you can be in your current situation.

“One moment!” A warm, friendly voice calls from somewhere in the back of the bakery. You want to cry that you don’t have a moment to spare, but you suppose it’s a good opportunity to gather your wits and composure before meeting the owner of the voice. Because said voice belongs to the owner of the bakery you now stand in, the only person in this world who can help you- retired head of the mafia and formerly the deadliest man in the world, Kim Seokjin.

“You’ve come at the right time!” The man himself cries as he steps into view. He’s handsome- warm eyes and carefully combed hair. It’s dyed purple, an odd choice that clashes a little with the pastel pink button down tucked into pure white trousers he is wearing. However, when coupled with the white soda-jerk-hat with bright pink outlines, he looks perfectly at home in the bakery. Surrounded by cupcakes and the smell of freshly baked cookies, no one would never guess at Kim Seokjin’s past. You, in particular, have walked past this bakery on numerous occasions and never even spared a thought to the who the owner might be. “Yoongi just finished a fresh batch of our famous raspberry and white chocolate cookies. The recipe is to die for.” He’s looking down, dusting flour off his fingers, and when he looks up, he offers you a warm smile. The warmth and kindness of his expression is in direct contrast to the sudden sharpness of his gaze and the way he seizes you up, however.

“You look guilty for being here.” He says abruptly, stepping up to the counter and leaning against the glass display. “Let me guess- you’re breaking a diet. Don’t worry. I’m here to help you.”

He steps out from behind the counter and begins to walk up to you. You aren’t expecting it and take a few panicked steps back. He pauses, surprised at your skittishness, and arches an eyebrow.

“No need to be afraid. I was just trying to say that the cupcakes in this display happen to be called the ‘diet-breakers’.” He explains, gesturing to a case full of cupcakes decorated with perfect icing flowers in various colours, not unlike the flowers in the pots on either side of the entrance. He tilts his head and smiles strangely- it sends a chill down your spine, the way it is both charming and practiced but somehow eerie and a little mean. “Unless it’s not the cupcakes you’re afraid of… but me?” He suggests. You swallow and take another fearful step back. He’s hit the nail on the head- you’re terrified of him. In the last 36 hours you have witnessed all the atrocities the mafia is capable of and Kim Seokjin used to be the head honcho. The pastel pink walls and smell of vanilla can’t cover up the underlying stench of bright red blood that no doubt used to stain his hands on the regular.

“You’re Kim Seokjin, aren’t you?” You say, and your voice is hoarse and shaky. He frowns and nods.

“Well, I am, but most of my customers call me Jin.” He admits. “Which makes me think that maybe you aren’t here to try my white chocolate mudcake.”

You hesitate. He’s absolutely right- you aren’t here for the baked goods he has to offer. You’re here because 36 hours ago your parents were killed right in front of you for reasons you don’t understand yet. And your father had told you with his dying breath that the only chance you and your little sister had at surviving was to find Kim Seokjin, former head of the mafia. And he’d slipped a USB into your hand and begged you to run before blood gurgled up between his teeth and the life drained from his eyes. And you’d tried your best to run like he’d told you to, you really had, but you’d failed. They’d taken her, your little sister and you don’t know if she’s dead or alive and Kim Seokjin is the only hope you have.

“I’m here because-“ You finally gather up the courage to say, but he stops you by holding up a hand.

“No.” He says simply. You blink a few times, before attempting to explain further. He merely cuts you off again. “Listen. If you’re in the know enough to seek me out and call me by my full name despite the fact that you’ve never once set foot in the bakery before today, then you should know this: If it isn’t about my delicious baked goods or a complaint about Yoongi swearing at you when he worked the counter the other day, then I don’t want to discuss it. It’s on the sign.” He tells you, jerking a thumb forcefully at what is indeed a sign bearing that exact sentiment. “If you don’t want to talk about cupcakes we don’t want to talk to you” is what it boldly declares in a shimmery gold that almost mocks you. He steps up to you, close enough that you can smell the scent of freshly baked bread from his clothes and makes shooing motions at you. “Buy a cupcake or leave, please.” He tells you dismissively.

He manages to shoo you about halfway to the door before you dig your heels in. You whirl around and grabs his hands pleadingly. That catches him off guard, and he leans away from the way you crane your neck to try and meet his gaze.

“Please.” You say, and your voice cracks. You’re in agony. You haven’t slept in a day and a half, you’ve witnessed your parents death and your sister, a mere child, could be out there suffering or dead. You need this man and his absurd bakery to help you, to listen to your story, anything. You just need somewhere to go from here, instead of constantly running, fearing that every person who walks passed with their hands in their pocket is concealing a gun or knife. Fearing that in the next moment your phone will ring with a call to inform you that your sister is dead in a ditch somewhere. “I need your help, Seokjin. You’re the only hope I have.” His gaze softens at your obvious desperation and vulnerability, and he’s gentle as he pulls his hands free from your grip.

“I’m sorry. You’re obviously quite young, and if my guess is right, you’ve gotten in a little over your head in that world.” He says. “To which I say, you can still walk away. Turn your life around, friend. That’s the only help I can offer you.”

He turns slowly and it is only because you are staring at his back in despair that you see it- the glowing red dot against the pastel pink of his uniform, centred right over where his heart should be. You’ve been shot at enough now to recognise that a sniper is taking aim at Seokjin.

“Get down!” You screech, throwing yourself bodily at him just in time for the display window to explode and send glass shrapnel spraying across the shop. The mirror hanging on the wall that Seokjin had been standing in front of mere moments before is cracked, what is unmistakeably a bullet lodged in its centre. You peel yourself off where you have plastered yourself protectively over Seokjin’s back and settle so that you are on all fours, hovering over his prone figure. It allows Seokjin enough space to roll over and stare incredulously at his ruined bakery from beneath you.

You’re about to scramble off the former mafia boss when, for the fourth time in 36 hours, you feel the cold metal of a gun barrel pressed to the back of your head. You stiffen in fear and Seokjin groans, staring at the person standing behind you.

“Hold your fire, Yoongi.” He pants, winded from the way you essentially tackled him. “It wasn’t her. Whoever it was, they’re probably miles away now. I know I wouldn’t stick around after missing a shot at the infamous Kim Seokjin.”

The sensation of cold metal vanishes and you sit back on your heels, sighing with relief. You turn your head to find another man with the same pastel pink uniform as Seokjin, though distinctly crueller looking and with a gun pointed directly at you. His eyes hold all the sharpness that Seokjin’s do, but with none of the kindness or warmth.

“I told you we shouldn’t have cut costs and skimped on the bullet proof windows.” The man, probably Yoongi, says, without shifting his gaze from you. Seokjin sits up as well, attempting to shake the broken glass from his shirt without cutting himself.

“I think we’d be the laughingstock of the whole city if anyone found out we installed bullet proof windows in a bakery.” Seokjin says with a sigh. “Although Bullet Proof Bakery does have a nice ring to it.”

Yoongi holds out a hand to you to help you up. You gratefully accept and take stock of your injuries. A few minor cuts from the glass but otherwise you think you’re ok. Seokjin follows suit and gets to his feet. He stares despairingly at his bakery for a moment.

“I retired from the mafia business because I wanted to run a bakery in peace.” He says with a long, burdened sigh, and he looks like he might cry. He turns to you. “Still, despite the trouble you’ve brought to my doorstep, I’m not an ungrateful man. You saved my life, so in return I’ll give you a chance to explain: Why do you need my help and why did I just get shot at?”

You stare around at the ruined bakery, and at the way the windows are open to the street outside. At any moment, any one could walk by and attack you. And as far as you know, Seokjin is the only person you can trust to help you now, so any eavesdroppers would definitely be detrimental to your cause.

“First,” You say slowly. “Why don’t we go somewhere more quiet?” The weight of the USB in your pocket feels like a thousand pounds and you feel like it is burning your skin. “It’s a long story.”

One that you don’t have all the answers to yet, but hopefully the man in front of you does.

He’s your last hope, after all.

#seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bts scenario #drabble game #writing

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okimargarvez · 5 years ago

Text

THIS NEVER GETS OLD

Original title: This never gets old.

Prompt: Penelope and Luke fixing up the attic.

Warning: none.

Genre: comic, funny, romantic.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: part 63 in Garvez canon Life.

Legend: 💑😘.

Song mentioned: none.

GARVEZ STORIES

THIS NEVER GETS OLD

Penelope sneezes once. And then again. At the third she manages to stop for a moment and Luke hands her a tissue, looking at her badly. -I'm allergic to dust.- she says, as a kind of justification.

The man continues to stares at her in a serious way. -I remember.- he looks up at the sky as she blows her nose. -That is why I brought you that mask.- he exclaims, with a disillusioned and disappointed tone, putting it in her hand without much compliment.

She looks at the object with mock circumspection, tilting it in every position, almost looking for a bug or something that could hurt her. -Oh, you are too sweet.- she says, therefore, using exaggeratedly sweet nuances, and therefore clearly constructed. -I mean too sweet.-she emphasizes the third word, raising an eyebrow. Luke can't figure out where she really means with this scene, but he feels confident enough not to worry seriously. -How I can criticize you and tease you, if you behave so perfectly?- in the end, thankfully, she provides him with the right clue to understanding, perhaps moved by his bewildered gaze.

The first instinct is to laugh. -Sorry.- the man holds up his hands as if they were about to arrest him. -I'll try to do the wrong thing, every now and then.- he exclaims, unable to hold a smile, his smile, the crooked smile on his face. -Ok?- Penelope is lost in his brown eyes. After a second of suspension, they both burst out laughing, perfectly synchronized. -Come on, let's start.- he is the first to recover. -We do an examination of conscience and what we don't need anymore, let's put it in these boxes.- he indicates some brown boxes, empty, lined up neatly one next to the other. -It is useless to keep all these things piled up, if we never use them.- it is the voice of rationality, but she doesn’t want to listen to it. She managed to avoid it untile now, and it doesn't seem right to give in right now. Maybe she should rent one of those garages, those on which they even did a TV show, and upon her death, Luke would discover she has a fabulous legacy of dusty plushies and other priceless junk.

She turns from the opposite side to his, to hide her expression, then regains control of her emotions. -Ok.- she says in a neutral tone. -But you must know that my grandfather was a serial accumulator.- she warns him, without a trace of irony. -I inherited this kind of disease from him so I can't throw away anything.- a justification she hopes will be enough to put off this infamous task.

Luke doesn't even try to hold back a laugh this time. -I see.- he sighs and begins to rummage in the first box, which seems to have contained a pair of boots, for women, long above the knee. He is about to ask why he has never seen them, but then... -What were you doing with all these receipts, Pen?- he asks, trying not to look too bad.

-I got them to various places in America I've been to.- she replies, reaching him immediately to snatch the contents from his hand. -They are not the shopping receipts of each week.- she is keen to point out, in a tone of "who do you think am I?".

He nods, pursing his lips. -I think there is a problem.- he lifts a handful of pieces of paper, almost like confetti, and makes them flutter around him. -Look.- he says.

-Oh no!- she immediately understands the extent of the damage. -They all became white, nothing can be read anymore!- the broken voice and the wide-open eyes. But she's not crying.

-Yes.- another sigh. -I'm sorry.- he strokes her shoulder. -Are you okay?- he asks calmly.

-They were only receipts, after all.- she is trying to convince herself. -I'm fine, Luke, really.- and as usual, he is not buying it, but he goes further, for now.

After a while he breaks the silence exclaiming in a genuinely surprised tone -Hey, look what I found!- she turns to him. -They're like music cassettes.-

But the next instant she took possession of the paper bag and what it contains. -They don't work anymore, they are to be thrown away.- she says, with a hasty and strange tone.

Luke looks at her strangely. -But, wait, let's first try to see if...- she silences him with her hand.

-No, I tell you they don't work.- she stares at him with a hard look in her eyes. -Let's go ahead.- she orders.

But he is too stubborn. -Wait, it seemed to me I read a strange thing on the label.- he manages to steal only one and look for what he thinks he's seen.

Her attempts to dissuade him are useless. -Luke, please leave it alone...- she pleads.

-Penelope, you have sing since you were little. Why didn't you want me to hear them?- he asks her.

-Because they embarrass me.- she confesses with a sigh. -They are part of a past that I have chosen to archive.- she puts her hand on his cheek. -I didn't remember keeping them, and above all having brought them up to your attic!- she is cursing herself.

-Love, there is nothing you could have done before you know me which you should feel embarrassed for.- he says. -I don't think you were out of tune when you were small.- he adds.

-You will verify with your ears.- she concludes. -We could sell these books to the market, don't you think so?- she's very good at changing the subject. He nods, looking at the titles.

-If you can find someone who cares about survival techniques in the mountains, or how to shave a poodle...- he comments ironically.

-Funny, but you have no idea what people buy.- she answers with the same tone. -Each book, every single volume, is in search of its ideal reader.- it seems a quote from Reid. -Regardless of how weird it may seem.- she concludes.

-Spencer surely knows some statistics about it.- that's why they're together.

-Yeah!- she laughs. Then she finds an object of dubious definition in one of her grandmother's antique furniture. -Luke!- she screams. -Where does this come from?- question.

He senses the disgusted tone. -It's my favorite shirt!- he protests, grabbing it.

-But it's all worn out, ruined.- this time it's she who tries to make him think in rational way.

He agrees. -In fact I'm not wearing it anymore, but I can't throw it.- it's not debatable.

-Luke!- she exclaims again. -There are also holes, and three buttons are missing.- nothing to do.

-I know.- he tilts his head as he approaches. -Do you know when I was wearing it?- he asks.

-No.- she answers immediately. -I'm not like you, I can't remember these things. You have so few clothes...- there is perhaps a kind of reproach, but it is not the time to go deeper.

-Then I'll try to refresh your memory.- he takes her face and kisses her without any warning, in a poignant and overwhelming way. -O'Keef. You with a super sexy dress. Illegal neckline. Red shawl. Me in black trousers and with this dark blue shirt. In every detail the hand goes down along the curves of her body. -Do you remember it now?- she swallows.

Then, that flame in his eyes. -I think I still need...- he doesn't give her time to finish. The offending shirt goes completely out of her head.

-So?- he asks her, then, with the swollen lips of her kisses. She frowns. -Will you let me keep it?- he then asks directly. Penelope sighs and shrugs her shoulders.

-Okay.- another kiss, shorter but no less intense. -This never gets old.-

________________________

TAGS: @arses21434 @kathy5654 @martinab26 @reidskitty13 @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @thinitta @myhollyhanna23 @garvezz @mercedes-maldonado @shyladystudentfan @cosmicmelaninflower @criminalminds14 @pegasus-scifichick @paperwalk @fallenstarof96 @inlovewithgarvaz @the-ellen-stuff @astressedwriter

#garvez #criminal minds #cm #penelope garcia #luke alvez #luke x penelope #penelope x luke #alvez x garcia #garcia x alvez

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aliciasfashionjourney · 7 years ago

Photo

AZZEDINE ALAIA

The Worlds most respected fashion designer.

Alaia was born on June, 1939 In Tunisia's capital city, Tunis to wheat farmers. From a young age Alaia had a passion for the arts, eventually he was studying sculpture in the local Ecole des Beaux-Arts which he lied about his age to get into. He didn't excel in it but he would be able to put it into use in the coming future. His sister taught him to sew and he began making copies of couture dresses for his neighbours.

‘FAMOUSLY SHY AND INFAMOUSLY INDEPENDENT’

In 1957, he moved to Paris and began working for Chrisitan Dior, but only managed 5 days of sewing labels and was unfortunately fired. Alaia then moved to Guy Laroche, for 2 seasons he learned his craft while earning his keep as a housekeeper to the Marquise de Mazan.

In the late seventies, he finally opened his first atelier in his small apartment, in which he created gowns for Marie-Helene de Rothschild and Greta Garbo.

During the eighties he showed his first ready-to-wear collection, ‘in the same year Bergdorf Goodman buyer reportedly stopped someone in the street that was wearing an Alaia leather coat and demanded to know where it was from.’ This allowed the Notorious perfectionist Alaia being stocked in America and he also opened a stand-alone store. In 1984, he was elected Best Designer of the Year and Best Collection of the Year by the French Ministry of Culture. As we have all heard of the stretchy body-conscious silhouette well the famously shy Alaia popularized the accentuating bust and clinched waist garments.

‘Signature body-con silhouettes’

In the Mid-Nineties the death of his twin sister caused Alaia to withhold from the fashion limelight, he preddered to cater for his devoted clients out of his Marais workspace. During 1995, The supermodel Stephanie Seymour’s wedding dress was designed by the talented Alaia which apparently took 1,600 hours to make.

‘1,600 hours to make’

In 2000 he signed a partnership with the Prada group which came with a huge recovery in his popularity but ‘he stayed loyal to his vision for his fashion house. When working with the group he still managed to retain a level of independence. During July 2007 he bought the Prada Group out of the ready-to-wear line of his business, which meant leaving them in charge only of footwear. The luxury group Richemont bought a percentage of the business. In 2008 he turned down the Legion D’Honneur France's most prestigious honour: "You know Sarkozy offered methe medal? I refused," he told the Business ofFashion in July 2011. "People said that I refused because I don't like Sarkozy, but that's ridiculous. I refused because I don't like decorations - except on women. My dress on a woman -that's a beautiful decoration."

In July 2011 the first catwalk show in 7 years by Alaia, for which he was given a standing ovation. It was announced in 2012 that Alaia was opening a store in Paris his first since 1992.

‘The notorious Perfectionist’

Leather wrap bra top

The product that really caught my eye was the Leather Wrap bra top and that is because it looks trendy, quite risky reminds me of the style grunge. This top is very fashionable and can be worn with anything by looking at it. I feel it would look great over a white shirt or if your feeling rebellious and risky why not try without and solo. The cost of this professionally made top costs $3,420. When I clicked onto NET-A-PORTER website I saw the image above which was promoting the top.

The Style of Alaias clothing

Ruffled printed cotton-poplin blouse - €1,025.38

I feel like the style of Azzedine Alaia clothing is sophiscated and professional but at times quite risky where abit of skin showing. The target market for Alaias clothing is more for like early 30s to 60s age. The clothing would really suit business women.

LASER-CUT COTTON-BLEND SHIRT-£1,590

Azzedine Alaia products have a variety of products including Dresses, Blouses, Shorts, Tops, Skirts, shoes and accessories. The lowest price is $500 and that is for a pair of stretch-knit shorts and the most expensive Shearling-lined suede coat for $11,210 so the price range is $500-$11,210. I would say the promotion is good as different websites sell Azzedine Alaias clothing and accessories and with vogue being involved aswell that is a very big up.

Azzedine Alaia Fall 2011 collections

The model Alaia Kostromichova

As soon as I saw this collection I fell in love, the colour scheme goes so good with the season fall. As the weather begins to get colder you can be more stylish then ever in Azzedine Alaia fall collection. I honestly think they are gorgeous. The look of the material on the photographs above and below looks luxurious.

‘Showing his creations in his own time.’

This garment is very trendy looking with the pattern, the collar gives it that smart sophisticated look. I would say that this dress would appeal in young female business women since it gives of that vibe. It would be very easy to dress down and dress up.

MY FAVOURITE ADVERTISEMENT

This azzedine Alaia advert really caught my eye as its nothing like an advert ive seen before. The vibe it gives me is quite alien, it seems like once you buy it and wear you will feel out of this world. The splash of different colours gives the advert that dark, mysterious look.

Another Advert that I really like as it is unique and different. The style and colours work really well. One of the bags that are shown is black and it really stands out since the background etc is brightly coloured.

Watch below

PETRie. (2015). Azzedine Alaïa - AW'15 Special Film . Available: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QylnTUzMXOY. Last accessed 13th Nov 2017.

Azzedine Alaias clothing are worn by celebrities and are in certain films you have probably watched but haven't realised. Rihanna is seen on the red carpet wearing a gorgeous sheer red dress, created by Alaia.

In the video below you can see how stunning the dress was Rihanna wore and it looked amazing her.

BlackTree TV. (2013). Rihanna rocks see through dress on the Grammy's red carpet. Available: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PlQkra8oz0Q. Last accessed 13th Nov 2017

Remember this scene out of Clueless. Who cant forget it honestly, this scene is where Cher says her famous fashion quote "Oh, no. You don't understand this is an Alaia"

This is Azzedine Alaias Instagram, He may not have more followers then Kim Kardashin but he is still a respected fashion designer, who has many celebrities wanting him to make them a garment. I love how his photographs are set out, it looks very professional and clean.

If you scroll through his feed you will see photoshoots, catwalks and even people that have worn his clothes.

Harvard reference.

Kilcooley-O'Halloran, S. (2012). Azzedine Alaia. Available: http://www.vogue.co.uk/article/azzedine-alaia-biography.

Last accessed 6th Nov 2017.

90s Fashion. (2014). Azzedine Alaia. Available: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXccvjhJpDQ.

Last accessed 6th Nov 2017

Fashionisima. (2013). You dont understand this is an Alaia!. Available: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znsg-ysSAX8.

Last accessed 6th Nov 2017.

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queendophne · 8 years ago

Text

The Mechanic Chapter 1

Steven Grant Rogers sat in his office reading the mission report not really sure how to respond. They have been after the leader of the infamous mafia called HYDRA for years and it seemed that his agency has finally got their hands on some kind of device that HYDRA has been using in their operations. The problem was that it was broken nor did they know how it worked or how to fix it. Now his agency wanted him and his partner and best friend, Bucky Barnes, to try and infiltrate the organization. And Steve had no idea where to start with how wrong and very dumb this idea was. Still, orders was orders and Steve would just suck it up and go with it.

So here he sat reading the mission details that seemed quite ridiculous since he was notorious with the organization. He bet they even had posters of him hanging over their beds as a reminder of who their number one enemy is. He was after all SHIELD’s poster child after all. Still, he was going to have to figure out a way into that world without giving himself away. Being discovered as an undercover operative can get you and those you care about killed. Luckily for Steve, all his loved ones worked and lived SHIELD like he did so he was not worried that they could protect themselves. Still, it does not mean he does not fret over the possibility. Steve would die for any of them and he knew they had his back as well.

“You look like they are asking you to skin yourself in front of a classroom full of children,” a teasing voice came from the doorway of Steve’s office.

“Why are you so sinister Buck?” Steve grumbled blushing a bit. He let the papers fall onto the desk lamely. Buck just laughed while stepping into the office and leaning on Steve’s desk.

“Hey, you knew me for years. Dark humor is as much a part of me as anything else,” Bucky replied with a sly smile. Steve just shook his head at his friend while trying to think about how to approach this mission. Bucky picked up the discarded papers and read through them. Steve studied Bucky’s reaction. He had yet to approach him about the mission and wanted to see if Bucky was willing to figure out how to join HYDRA without being discovered.

“They are asking for the impossible this time Stevie,” Bucky sighed putting the papers back on the desk where he found them. The two men do not speak as they just stare at each other silently. Their conversations did not always require words. Some of his colleagues thought It was creepy how they did that. Still, it was the best way to have a conversation without the possibility of eavesdropping.

“Fine,” Bucky sighed, “I will reach out to my informant and ask if they can find us a way in, okay?”

Steve just grinned widely back at Bucky, “Well, I am not the man who flirts with anything that moves and he finds cute.”

“Fuck you man,” Bucky growled sticking his tongue out childishly before leaving Steve alone again. He picked up a pen and paper and began to write down important information he needed for this to somehow work. They needed to change up their looks a bit but Steve was not adverse to it he used to dress like an actual punk all throughout high school while Bucky went more towards a gothic look. Both grew out of it soon after they graduated but it helped them get through the tough school days.

Steve took the mission details to Hill’s office for more information. He needed to go in knowing everything or they could both end up dead or worse. Steve was not the kind to take those kind of chances.

Maria Hill was a strong and commanding woman who earned her place in this agency by successfully pulling off a lot of dangerous and undesired missions. It was not a life she wanted but she did them to prove herself to her male coworkers. Steve really looked up to this woman.

“Hello Rogers,” she always insisted on using his last name during work hours...which is almost all the time.

“Hill,” Steve greeted taking a seat in front of her desk. She was second in command so her office was a lot larger than his. It always made Steve uncomfortable with the openness. It always felt like there was a higher chance of this place being bugged and not know about it.

“So I see you have got your mission,” Maria nodded at the stack of papers in his hand, “I voted against it since you and I know that HYDRA knows you well and it's basically impossible to be anyone else but the board did not listen.”

“Old men sometimes forget that it's a lot harder to go undercover. It's more logical if they picked a newer agent the enemy have not met but I was given this mission and I will complete it,” Steve replied placing the papers in his lap carefully.

Maria studied him for a second before sighing and taking out a black box and placed it on the desk. She looked at him hard and he just stood his ground waiting for her to continue. “This is an item HYDRA has been using during their operations. We don't know what it does or what it's for because it's broken and missing pieces. An agent died to get us this device so it's important that we do everything we can to fix it. This is the key to successfully destroy HYDRA.”

“So we don't know what it does or how to fix it and we trust the person who gave it to us that is something essential to how HYDRA operates. That is nothing new Hill, and I need more. Plus I just can't buy it because some operative died. It just doesn't make sense,” Steve picked up the device and placing it on top of the papers. Maria watched him do it without uttering a word.

They were both silent for a long time before Maria’s shoulders fell looking resigned, “the man who died was Phil Coulson. But it doesn't mat-”

“Phil died. You didn't think any of us would like to know? We have been asking for months about him and the only thing we got was he is on blackout,” Steve was seething in his seat. Suddenly the object on his lap felt a lot heavier and a lot more menacing than before.

“Phil knew what he was doing,” Maria answered her voice cold and distant, “Every mission we take we know there's a chance we will never come back. We kept it from you all because he asked us to. He wanted you to know after HYDRA has been taken down so you don't get your priorities to save this city and its people with getting vengeance for him.”

“To me, it's the same damn thing,” Steve growled taking the items in his lap and stormed out of Hill’s office.

Phil died for this information. Steve was going to get this mission done for his friend's sake.

Steve was going to burn HYDRA to the ground.

Steve hated the fact that he used to like dressing like a punk rocker. It was a part of his past he never wanted to dig up but here he was applying the final touches to his makeup. It wasn't that he was ashamed of it but it's more about what he had done during that phase. Still, it was for the mission so it had to be done.

Bucky opened the door to his bathroom with a large sly smile on his face watching Steve straighten the thickly applied eyeliner under his eyes. Steve just continued on not really caring about his friend's opinion.

“You still remember the ritual?” Bucky asked chuckling like he was laughing at a joke Steve told.

“I did this every day for five years. It's kind of hard to forget it,” Steve answered letting his annoyance to seep into his voice as a warning to his over confident friend who seemed to have finished getting ready. Bucky was wearing no makeup, because Steve quotes ‘no way in hell will Brooklyn’s best player will be caught wearing punk makeup’ even though he used to wear it worse back in the day, and his long hair pulled back in a messy bun while wearing a black top with a large skull on his chest that was covered by a tight dark purple leather jacket and tight black jeans that had chainmail running from his left pocket. It was a good look on him but Steve was not about to speak that out loud.

“Get a move on then! We don't have all night and our contact could be gone by the time you get ready,” Bucky whined coming in to lean on Steve making it hard for him to finish.

“Well I would if you aren't leaning on my dominant arm,” Steve countered earning a tongue shot that he just rolled his eyes at.

“Just move Stevie you look fine,” Bucky said leaving the bathroom giving Steve a little more peace.

Steve finished his makeup and moved into the bedroom to throw on his plaid button down shirt before buttoning it up and throwing on his own leather jacket. It was his favorite piece of clothing and it fit him perfectly. It was his father’s jacket and it was a little run down but he wore it all the same. He completed his outfit by throwing on his only pair of tight jeans, his tan army boots, and his old jewelry that covered both his hands and arms. He stood in front of the mirror not really sure of himself. He had not done this look in years and he felt like he looked super weird and that his body didn’t fit the look but he knew he would never be truly satisfied so he just left it as it is.

Taking a deep breath Steve left their shared apartment and met Bucky in front of their building who was smoking a cigarette. Steve glowered at his best friend and pulled the burning cigar from Bucky’s fingers and put it out under his boot. His friend looked a bit sad at the loss but just shrugged it off handing Steve the keys to the car.

They drove to the club in silence trying to keep themselves in game. Bucky got really quiet before a start of mission but once it started it was like he could not shut up. Steve always found it funny but now all he could think about was Phil. He could not believe that his friend was gone a part of him wanted to believe that he was hiding away faking his death but this was not an action movie; this was real life.

Bucky’s informant put them in contact with someone he said knew how to get them in. Steve was a bit skeptical but it was all they had for now so he took it. He was never good at staying in character but thankfully the cover the agency created for him was similar to his own so he did not have to play it up too much.

Steve drove until he finally spotted the flashing sign in neon green reading ’Electra's World’. That is the club where their informant’s contact was going to meet them at. Steve felt a shudder run down his spine when he realized that not only is it a punk inspired club but it was also a strip club . Great. Just what Steve needed.

He parked his car in front of the valet parking sign before getting out of the car and throwing his keys into the arms of a young kid who frantically went to go park the car. If you act like you have authority anyone would be willing to something for you. That kid just proved it.

Bucky stepped up behind him looking at the grungy metal door in front of them, “if we close our eyes hard enough we can pretend it's a gentlemen’s club.”

Steve chuckled at Bucky’s attempt to ease them into the situation. He then just stepped towards the bouncers who looked big and intimidating but lucky for Steve so did he, “We are here to see the Devils of Hell's Kitchen.”

The two bouncers eyed Steve and Bucky behind their useless shades before nodding. They got through. Steve wondered what kind of place needs a secret line to gain entrance but once he entered he knew. There were naked bodies everywhere but it was the fact that some people can be seen acting out BDSM scenes in the background. Does this place not offer something?

“Hello there handsome,” a short man with a high pitched voice came at him trying to bat his eyes to look pretty. Steve just hardened himself and gave the oncoming man a blank look of total disinterest. Quickly the guy turned and sashayed away looking annoyed. The less confrontations the better in Steve’s opinion. He wanted to be out of there quick but they had to at least talk to the contact before leaving.

“Ease up a bit punk,” Bucky snickered weaving around him to head towards the far corner of the bar. Bucky said their contact would meet them at the corner closest to the stage at ten. It was now nine fifty leaving them ten minutes to gather themselves.

“What may I get you, gentlemen?” The bartender asked.

Bucky opened his mouth to answer but a female voice broke in, “they’ll be having grape soda Charles. They're here to do business not play.”

“As you wish,” the bartender, Charles, acknowledged.

Steve eyed the woman in front of them. She was short and beautiful with really long volume hair and heavy dark makeup. She was dressed minimally but a person could still tell she was into punk fashion. She just smiled, “they weren't lying when they said you were cute but damn you guys are like angels. You make muscles look like they grow on trees. Damn.”

“You are?” Steve asked raising an eyebrow at her. Her smile just widened and she flipped her hair a bit. Then she stepped into their space leaning on the edge of the counter taking a cup from the bartender’s stretched hand.

“Me? You can call me Darcy,” The female answered but offering nothing more. It took Steve another second to realize that she was their contact.

Bucky smiled and Steve just sighed. Bucky liked her and that was not a good sign at all. Bucky only liked the mischievous ones he has a knack for picking them out. This operation is doomed.

“Oh Stevie,” Bucky whispered, “don't be over dramatic. She'll be cool. You’ll see.”

~To Be Continued

#Tony Stark #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Stuckony #Stony #OT3 #Superhusbands #Undercover operatives #Mob Boss Tony Stark

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neuro-slicers · 8 years ago

Text

NeuroSlicers: Issue 3

Entry

I'm in the shit, Simone.” Isaac said while pushing open the main entrance door to Tesseract HQ.

“Let’s see… whose fault 's that?” The voice of Simone came, as if just from behind him.

Isaac turned around, but there was no one there – Simone was using the brand new sub-cortical neural implant to communicate with him. He was far from used to it. Implants were common technology for the upper class, but the only connection that Isaac had with them was watching the overly grandeur visual feeds televised on every holoboard laid across the city of Nexus.

"Let beauty be in the hand of the beholder, release the beauty from within with our latest synthetic skin tech, as soft and as delicate as the day you were born – stop the aging process" the adverts would say. Issac imagined that in the past, before the great Nano Plague that similar tactics were used to sell high fashion. Brands selling an unattainable lifestyle wrapped up in a moving image that says "Buy", then you'd see the price "just 350,000 credits for your first 4 sessions" - that was more than most people in Nexus City would make in a lifetime. It was opulent and only helped to truly show the divide between the outlandish and often insecure wealthy and the impoverish, those that had little to their name in the city.

“You, of all people, should know that the risk I took was necessary. I couldn’t bare living in the slums for another moment longer.” Isaac replied, while trying to look for any indication of how to navigate the winding pathways that made up the public areas of the building.

Issac had managed to secure himself an interview. An interview for the most powerful corporation in the whole of the City no less; someone or something was looking down on him. He had no idea how he'd managed to land himself this opportunity and he was far from qualified for it.

The truth is, this was his last hope of being able to repay a debt, a debt that he now regret taking on, but in an act of blind foolishness and a desire to find a way out of the slums he decided to borrow credits from a loan shark that happened to be a member of Bit.Crash. Issac had the idea that if he could just get himself a simple Slicer Deck and start getting some contracts he'd be able to make enough to get out of this hell hole. After all, most people of Nexus dreamed of becoming a Slicer, lured by the tales of these infamous hackers.

Things didn't work out exactly as planned...

“You're the one that decided to invest in being a Slicer of all things?” Simone retorted and Isaac could hear the smile in her words.

“Fuck You Simone” Issac said in retaliation.

“Are you serious?” Simone’s voice came from behind again. “ I'm here trying to help you, through no mistake of my own. Yet it seems like I'm babysitting a grown man, who can’t even take care of his own problems. I'm supposed to be at the height of my career, now look what you've got me doing!” She sighed. "I don’t want to argue, I'm here to help, but try to show a bit of gratitude".

"Fine, I'm sorry. Thank you Simone, I do appreciate what your doing for me." Issac said, in a soft tone. He had no desire to exacerbate the situation, and he was truly thankful he had a friend to help him through this.

After a moment, Isaac heard the "clickity click" as Simone typed on the other end of the feed. Her voice came back a few moments later “Here, this should help you out…”

A yellow line appeared a few inches above the ground, leading to one of the side corridors on the ground floor.

“Hell yeah! Augmented Reality, baby!” Simone exclaimed.

“How did you do that?!” Isaac asked in confusion.

“The chip in your brain can make you see things that aren’t really there – like these navigation lines, leading to the interview room for example. You just need to know what to touch.”

“Should I be as disturbed as I feel right now?”

“Oh yeah. Anyone with access to your chip can do some nasty things to you. It just so happens that in this situation, that anyone is me.” Simone sounded pleased with herself.

"Now just to release the access code onto the NeuroNet for all to see....."

"What! Don’t do that!" Isaac said in a panic.

"Just kidding, don’t worry, the connection is secure"

Isaac was already starting to regret giving Simone full access to his neural chip. Unfortunately, if she was to help him get this job, she needed as much freedom as possible.

The lines on the ground led him through the maze of corridors, decorated with almost nothing, but the occasional abstract painting and pretentious quotes one typically sees when walking the halls of big corporations, not that he'd done such a thing in the past. Such delights as “Connecting the world to the future” or “Dreams + Work = Success”, it was all rather Orwellian and sent a shudder down Isaacs spine.

Isaac finally arrived at a white door with no label, handle or indication of what was on the other side. Just as he was about to knock the door opened and a smartly dressed woman almost collided with him on her way out. The first thing Isaac noticed about her were the intricate lines under her skin on the left side of her face, partially covered by her red hair, its like a computer PCB had been used as a stencil for a overly complex tattoo, only this tattoo had the addition of glowing lines and little LED's attached.

“Wow, a Sentry.” Simone’s voice was filled with awe. “These are extremely experienced Slicers that have so much hardware embedded in them, that they can barely be considered human. Most Sentries try to hide what they are, but apparently not this one.” It was known by many that Tesseract had a habit of hiring and nurturing Slicers caught in the act of breaking into their beloved NeuroNet; often training them way beyond the abilities of normal street Slicers or those from the other Corps. They had the budget and the necessity to protect their systems more so than any other, but when you see what their Slicers become at the hand of Tesseract it didn’t seem much better than Xanctuary's cultist tech infused following.

“Do you plan to get out of my way, or is staring at me part of your job description?” The Sentry said and Isaac realized that he was standing in the door frame. He moved aside, not wanting to cause any trouble – after all, first impressions count.

She took off through one of the corridors while shaking her head and murmuring something under her nose.

Isaac took a moment to regain his fleeing confidence and entered the interview room. It was noticeably messier than what he had seen so far from the rest of the building – there were shelves filled with what appeared to be junk hardware. On top of one of the shelves, a strange giant clock was stuck with it's hands showing 13:37. In one corner, multiple boxes were stacked in a heap.

“Oh, crap. Is that…” Simone’s voice.

Isaac looked back as the door slid closed behind him. His eyes focused on the smiling figure behind the only desk in the room and his confidence evaporated, quickly replaced by absolute horror followed by the boiling anger he was so used to for most of his life.

“Welcome Isaac, how’s my boy doing?” said Francis, the one person who Isaac didn’t want to see in that room – his step father.

"Oh, hell no." Isaac almost screamed while trying to keep his shaking body under control. "I'm not going to be part of your games. Not again." He barely managed to keep his voice level from all the emotions that were seething through him.

Turning around, Isaac reached for the door, but there was no handle, and the door didn’t open.

"Isaac, please think about this..." Simone's voice. "If you run away now, you'll be finished – this is your best bet to pay Bit.Crash back." She sounded concerned "I know the things that this man has done to you and your family, but there has to be a way set your differences aside."

"You can't even begin to comprehend the monster that Francis is, Simone." Isaac whispered to try and keep his connection a secret. "There is no future for me where that man is." He continued while resting his hand against the door, mainly to try keep his body under control.

Isaac knew that he couldn't spend much longer with Francis without his anger or fear getting the better of him. Just as he was about to start kicking at the door, the voice of Francis came from the other side of the room.

"Ah, you haven't changed a bit, Isaac – your mother would've been so disappointed..." He said while slowly getting up and walking around the desk "If she wasn't lying in a mass grave somewhere, of course." His voice was filled with glee. Seeing that Isaac had stopped moving, he continued... "I still remember her last words - 'I wish my son had turned out better.'" Francis said in a faux old ladies voice

"Liar!" Isaac shouted and before he knew it he was charging the still smiling Francis with the full intention of ending him right there and then. Unfortunately, Isaac knew even before he started that this act was as futile as were the countless ones he had tried in the past. The fight ended almost as soon as it began – Francis stepped out of the way of the charge almost casually and met Isaac with a knee to the chest, sending him straight to the floor, paralyzed.

"You know what the problem with scum like you and your mother is, Isaac? You can't seem to get it into your thick skulls that the class system exists for a reason – to keep filth like you away from anyone important. And do you know what happens to people who try to bypass the system, Isaac? I HAPPEN TO THEM!" Francis, shouted the last sentence in Isaac's face before delivering a kick in his midriff. Isaac managed to shift slightly and take it on the side, where it would do the least damage – he had learned a thing or two about fighting after many sessions just like this one. The pain still left him out of breath.

Francis grabbed Isaac by his shirt and put him upright so he could speak in his face. "And the thing is, Isaac, the only reason we allow you to pollute our city is to serve us. Our little dogs. Doing all the filthy work that suits their position. YOU... GOT... THAT?!" Francis punctuated each word with slamming Isaac in one of the shelves, rattling everything on them dangerously.

Francis took his hands off Isaac and started to walk to his desk. The beating was bad, but Isaac had taken much worse before. He wasn't done yet.

"Is that right?" Isaac said in a rasping, out-of-breath voice. "I think you've forgotten where you come from, old man." If Isaac knew anything about Francis, it was his absolute hatred toward the lower class and by extension – his family.

"Oh, now you'll have it." Came a whisper from Francis, who turned around and charged at Isaac, but Isaac was already braced for the impact. The two men collided and the shelves behind Isaac shook so violently that the giant clock on the top slid off.

It crashed into Francis's forehead, forcing him to the ground, unmoving.

"He's dead." Was the first thought in Isaac's mind while he tried to recover from the shock of what had just happened. A sudden voice almost made him jump:

"Isaac, are you ok?" Simone asked. "Can you hear me? Damn it, why isn't this thing working!?"

The adrenaline was quickly fleeing his body, but he had to check for himself. Turning the body over, Isaac felt for a pulse. It was there – the son of a bitch was still alive.

"I finally returned the favor. You're going to pay for all those years of torture you bastard." Isaac whispered and grabbed a broken piece of sharp metal, which had broken off the clock. He brought the piece high, aiming at the neck of his step father.

"Isaac! What are you doing?!" Simone screamed. "What's going on with you?! You're not a killer!".

Isaac tried to pay her no mind, but it was getting harder and harder to hold that piece of metal over Francis's throat with most of his adrenaline gone already.

"Please, Isaac, don't do this..." He could hear her voice beginning to tremble. "I thought... no... I still think that you're one of the decent people in this rotting city. Don't let him take that away from you too, damn it!"

Isaac heard a loud bang as Simone must have hit something in frustration of her helplessness.

The words rang too close to the truth however and the piece of metal dropped from Isaac's hand.

Francis had taken too much from him already – his childhood, his home, his family – not his morals though, at least not today.

"Ok..." Isaac's voice was horse and shaky from all the excitement "I'll let the bastard live. Though the injustice of it all sickens me."

"You've made the right decision Isaac..." She sighed with relief.

"I hope so." Issac responded.

"But now, we need to deal with this mess."

Isaac was trying to asses the situation, "Yeah, this looks quite bad, doesn't it?"

"What? The unconscious body of a Tesseract employee with you as the only witness? Maybe they'll think you convinced him to take an impromptu nap." Simone's tone was beginning to get back to normal, which reassured him.

"They won't stop until they get me – one way or another."

"Bet on it."

"I guess it's time for plan B then." Isaac said and started going through Francis's pockets.

"Why am I only now hearing that there is such a plan?"

"Didn't want to bore you with the details... Aha, here we go." And he took out a shining translucent card with a black strip going across it from one of the pockets "Behold our key to success."

"And you're planning to do what exactly?" Simone questioned "I may be smart, but far from mad enough to understand you."

"Well, Bit.Crash want their credits back right?"

"And..."

"What is even more important to Bit.Crash than credits?" Isaac had a grin on his face now.

"Son of a bitch..." She said as it dawned on her "You're going to try and steal private data from the inside. And I'm guessing you'll want my help?"

"Well, you're here already."

"Why am I not surprised?"

Isaac put the card in his pocket and said "We need to neutralize Francis, we don't want him waking up in 5 minutes and sounding the alarm."

"I know what we'll do. Go and look into his eyes." Simone said with excitement.

"What?!"

"Trust me now. Go, open his eyes and stare deeply."

He did as he was told with a reasonable amount of skepticism. At first Isaac saw nothing in Francis's eyes, but then he felt his own eyes starting to warm up. The sensation was not pleasant.

"Closer, get closer to him!" Simone almost shouted, while typing furiously on her keyboard.

Isaac got even closer and the sensation of heat in his eyes intensified.

"Simone, I am not sure that this is a good idea."

"Just give me 5 more seconds.."

The next few seconds were the worst, with his body screaming that something was definitely wrong with his eyes. Suddenly, Francis's body lurched up and came back down again. With that, Isaac's eyes returned to normal.

"What the hell was that, Simone?" Isaac was more than a little bit disturbed and confused with what just happened.

"It's called CUP - Close up Paralysis. It's an old Xanctuary technique I'd been dying to try out." Simone's voice was filled with excitement. "When you show your brain a certain sequence of moving patterns, they make it freezes up completely." She lectured "We've known this for a while of course, but the brilliance of Xanctuary is that their implants allow them to change their own eyes to recreate those patterns."

"So, Francis, even though unconscious was able to see these patterns imprinted on my own eyes?!" Isaac was starting to get a little but sick.

"Brilliant, isn't it?" Simone asked.

"Sounds pretty useless to me."

"Aha, and that's the thing – no one expects it. This is the main trick Xanctuary adepts use to impress and gather followers. They show you the shifting image of their eyes, letting you think that it's part of the Keeper himself in there and then they let you 'experience' his power by completely paralyzing you body."

"As creepy as that is, Xanctuary is the least of my worries right now. I need to get out of here."

"Ah yes, where do you want to go? The ground floor won't hold any valuable data."

"Up we go then, find me the closest elevator."

"Roger." Simone's voice was accompanied with a few dozen clicks and the yellow lines on the floor returned. Isaac closed the door behind him on the interview room and followed the lines, trying to look as unsuspicious as possible. There was an open elevator at the end of the corridor and thankfully he was the only one there. Scanning Francis's security card over the console, he mashed the highest floor his security clearance allowed.

"Here we go..." Isaac said, as the doors closed and the machine began the long ascend.

End of part 1.

#failure #neuroslicers #short story #video game #narrative #cyberpunk #failuregame

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[OT] Old school party

playlist

Where does this story belong? Instagram (not on that). Twitter (seems too long, and I don't tweet). Blogger (who blogs these days?). Snapchat? (please, i'm not 13). Whatsapp (I don't even know what that is). Facebook? (no good pictures and too long)... a story i wrote 25 years ago, and updated in 2007. Does this short story stand the test of time? I'll let you decide. But I did snap the playlist that was saved from the Saturday morning cleanup... and somehow I saved it for the last 30 years in my nostalgia bin. good times. "I wish there was a way to know you're in the 'good old days' before you've actually left them" - Andy Bernard. Excuse any typos. I don't feel like correcting any of them at this late moment.

308 stanton last updated: 20-jul-07

so it was decided. we would indeed throw a party at our house. we’d kicked the idea around for months prior, but nobody championed the idea, so it never came together. this time, we still didn’t have a champion for the effort, but we all kind of came to a zen-like calmness about the decision to go thru w/ it. while waiting in some incredibly long beer lines (really, more like beer circles, with the keg at the center of the concentric circles of folks waving their plastic beer cups) at the Green House, only 5 short blocks away from our house, we finally told each other enough times that we were sick of waiting in other people’s houses, while the beer-gods up front w/ the taps decide who drinks right away (young, good looking women who are friendly, and whoever lives there), and who waits (all males who aren’t actually living at the house or from the house guys’ hometowns).

there were a few party houses that had developed nicknames and that didn’t need directions or street names to go along w/ them. kind of like the ‘cher’, ‘prince’ and ‘madonna’s of the iowa state university campustown houses. we had the ‘gamma Gs’ (a fake frat / party house on lincoln ave). we had the green house (a mint green party house on knapp). we had the ‘pink house’. and we had ‘230 campus’ (a collection of apartments w/ loose keg policies, and plenty of opportunities for crashing parties). we had others, too, but they already have slipped away from my mind forever. the real question was: could we compete w/ the old established houses and get anyone to come to this new location? (‘old, established’ is relative, of course. in real years, their reputations were about 3 years old. but in ‘college time’, tho, it was like 2 generations, like 40-college-years. an eternity. legendary) what if we threw a party and nobody came? we had egos to protect. and our pocketbooks (stupid name... let’s just call em wallets) and we had so many unknowns that could ruin the event (a blizzard, a potentially mega-huge competing party, possible ‘barn dances’ the same night [but that’s another whole story there, the infamous isu ‘barn dances’. pay your $5, get on an old yellow school bus, get driven 15 miles out to the boonies to some guys barn, drink your guts in, puke your guts out, make the rounds and hit on all the women (who make up a HUGE 15% of the party, jump on a bus that leaves every 15 minutes back to campus, stagger home… yack in the bushes a few times if need be. well, i guess that doesn’t require a whole new story, just thick brackets] ).

so, we picked a friday 2 weeks out. it was the dead of winter, early on in the new semester, w/ only a cyclone basketball game as the only known conflict. 308 stanton avenue, ames, ia, 50012 had keggers before, but outside ones, in the summer, where the house can be locked down. this would need to be an entirely inside party (feb in iowa). and this would be a ‘blow-out’ party. or at least we planned for that. not just one (or maybe 2) kegs and an invite list of close friends and neighbors (no lockdown needed. no duct taping cupboards, couches in front of bedroom doors, turnaround the tv, hide the remotes and CDs, tape the fridge shut, etc. this would be a take no prisoners (unless they pony up the $3) kind. totally open to whoever moseyed by. we had connections to a ‘band’ (i knew a band member from honors program, who lived in the ‘pink house’ (cory S). roach (my roommate), knew another band member from same band from his hometown. yup, need quotes around that ‘band’ word. 4 guys who all had instruments. and different instruments! that’s all you need to be called a band. erik, corey, zit, and ?. they agreed to play for our party. that was a good thing. i either forget their band name, or they didn’t have one (yet). nirvana or some such. i’m sure they didn’t amount to anything. but who knows? this was unique enough that strangers would be tempted to go to a house party w/ an actual live band playing. at least we hoped. we reached a point of no return when we reserved the kegs on the monday before. how many to buy? and how many to put on reserve? we settled on getting 3 up front, and 3 on reserve. had to put down some ‘serious’ money for them, and for the tap deposit, and the keg deposit. we had to scrape the money together, tapping out atm cards and bringing back cans/bottles for nickel apiece, etc (pry about $150 which of course now doesn’t seem as much as back then, when we were all about 2-4 years into paying out w/out ever receiving anything back yet).

so, we all worked our contacts all week. we stopped by our old dorm floors to tell everyone to come, and have them announce it at their weekly floor meetings. we even (or at least i did, can’t speak for my roommates) put up signs in the bathrooms and hallway and den on the old floor, to make sure the message got out. told all my classmates in every class (even the ones who normally don’t party hop, which was most of them. chemical engineers just don’t party. even at college. at least most of em). on the engineers side of campus (the ugly, male-dominated side. all the good looking co-eds in education stayed on the opposite side of campus, safely away from us), after 3 years, its amazing how many people you recognize by just walking around between buildings, even at a huge school of 25,000. we were like jehovas witnesses or magazine sellers, we would tell everybody we knew (either by their names, or maybe just their faces) about friday’s party. by the end of the week (thursday), most people i told about the party would say, “i know, i know, i heard about it like 20 times now”. that was a good sign. but i took that to mean that my roommates and me had just told them about it 5 times each.

we over prepared for it, that’s for sure. i blew off friday afternoon classes (but i made it to my 8:00 AM p-chem) we cleaned the house up. big time. in the old forgotten corners, we found and cleaned out magazines and unopened mail that were 10 years old. we put away everything valuable or breakable. we duct taped our kitchen cabinets shut, which included our very valuable raman noodles and assorted tupperware for storing leftover pizza, as well as glass-glasses. we duct-taped the fridge. we decided to barricade the bedroom doors w/ couches. (our house had one big, open room, full of old couches, and bedrooms shooting off of it, so it wasn’t difficult to do it. of course, we kept finding reasons to need to go into the bedrooms, so we constantly kept ‘sealing’ and ‘unsealing’ all the bedroom doors all afternoon. we totally cleaned out the bathroom of everything but one lil roll of toilet paper. moved all CDs, tvs, remotes, anything we could move, we moved, to bedrooms. we picked up the 3 kegs, putting 2 in the basement, and tapped one for upstairs. that was just for convenience and until folks (hopefully) started showing up. then we’d move that to the basement, too. the basement was the darkest, stinkiest, mustiest, mildewy-est, centipede over-ran hole in the ground (literally) i’ve ever seen. perfect for the dispensing of beer. we actually had someone voluntarily live down there. doug, who was only charged $50/month (we all paid $112) for some unknown reason, agreed to those living conditions. he laid down industrial strength plastic over the cracked, crumbling, dirty cement / cement dirt, put in some clothes lines for hanging all the clothes he owned, and put a mattress directly on the floor. he would always be bringing up to show us the biggest, most disgusting bugs/millipedes/centipedes/roaches that he found in his sheets. and he always smelled ‘musty’ when he first put on a new shirt and came up from down the dungeon. but the smell eventually wore off, or at least we got used to it. how HE got used to it is beyond me.

by 4:00, we were ‘ready’. the house looked so different.. so… clean. it put us in a goofy mood. a nervous mood. we had put the tv away, so the only thing we could do is listen to the stereo, play some darts, and wait. and drink. and wait. we were sitting on 3 full, cold kegs, slowly warming up. but we all just kinda sipped. it was gonna be a long night. even roach sipped. didn’t think that was possible for him to do. gotta pace ourselves. the band showed up, w/ their stuff. that was cool. it was one of their first ‘official’ gigs. they were playing for free, which was worked out beforehand. they were just glad to get top-(and only)-billing. and they told all of THEIR friends and ‘groupies’ to come, too, i assumed, or at least hoped. they found the most sturdy part of our floor to set up (which was a challenge. the floor was mushy, uneven, and spongy to the step almost everywhere. their amps and speakers were damn heavy, and they didn’t care about damaging our floor, they just didn’t want their expensive (rented?) things getting hurt as they fell thru the floor and landing on doug’s bed, or at least tipping over.

earlier in the week, we had recruited what we called (and in our defense, what everyone else in our world at ISU called), the ‘beer wench’. pry the most important person at the party. the pivot person. the go-to woman. except for any cops that may show up. the beer wench doled out the glasses, acted as a ‘bouncer’ to keep out high-school lookin kids, made sure nobody brought in their own glasses, but most importantly, collected the money. 3 for guys, 2 bucks for women. NO EXCEPTIONS. we knew if we had tried to collect the money ourselves, a few things would happen. we’d lose interest, we wouldn’t get beer in a timely manner ourselves, we’d get sweet-talked by our girl – friends (not just girlfriends, but … oh, i’m sure you understand) to not have to pay, and we wouldn’t be able to ‘mingle’. i can’t believe i forgot her name already… it’s only been 10 short years. cherry? lampy? i’ll come back to the name.. i’m sure i’ll wake up tonite at 3:00 AM shouting “April! April!” good thing the wife is in tampa. the B.W. was tough as nails, actually enjoyed being a *itch. and loved being in charge. getting her to help was the key, in hindsight, to a good party.

i remember the 5 of us (burk, woody, roach, doug, and me (aka homie – a name carried over from the dorm floor days of tone loc, when everybody was “me and my homies”) {scrappy and rebar minus doug would be the next generation to live there w/ us, but weren’t quite yet} standing in our empty house, nervously asking each other if we thought anyone will show up. we had no idea. oh, sure, we hoped, and we estimated, but what if only 17 folks showed up. hope they’re thirsty. and rich. we were a jangle of nerves, even tho we all tried hiding it.

luckily, at around 6, some folks started trickling in. some old dorm friends, duke and shu, came waaaay too early. i was the one who named duke, duke, back in the dorm days, cuz his name was john wayne H. that name stuck; John Wayne, The Duke. nobody knew him as john, and even as i write this, john sounds goofy… he was duke. wonder if that name stuck to him after college? pry not. folks like fuzzy from the roommates’ hometowns, and girlfriends, and some more stragglers started arriving, who we told to come early to drink before it got too crowded. and then, at about 7:30, the floodgates opened! this wasn’t new york city, where you went out at a stylish 11:00. here, you ate, then put on and up your party hair (for the flock of seagulls-type women), got together and started the night ASAP. in fact, you pry started right after classes on friday (F.A.C. Friday After Class drink specials. did any other campus have FAC bar parties?) like dime-a-tap-beer specials, the kind the city cops were always complaining about.

a crush of people started showing up, flowing in like a river. we moved the 3rd keg to the basement. the money started flowing in, and the beer flowing out. the volume picked up. we had achieved CPM. (critical party mass). the only thing that could extinguish CPM was running out of beer, or a visit from one of ames’ finest. plenty of beer was available, and the police stayed away all night. it was a sweet feeling being the giver of one of these, finally. barging to the front of the beer line (circle), and commandeering the tap. being able to fill up the young, nubile women’s glasses ahead of the obnoxious guys who i didn’t know. it was taken for granted that one must yield the power of the tapper to the owner of the house or his designated delegate upon request. all that power in one guys thumb. it was intoxicating. (or maybe it was just the beer. ok, it was definitely just the beer). the Beast. Milwaukee’s Best. cheapest stuff available. the basement, for the first time ever, actually was getting hot in the dead of winter. usually, our house stayed at about 65 degrees during day, and pry 50 or 55 at night (some mornings, and i don’t think i’m remembering this wrong, i could actually see my breath <insert bad breath jokes here>) doug had barricaded his ‘room’ off w/ his mattress and rope. it was still holding.

the band wanted to start warming up. the public enemy on the stereo was killed. it wasn’t like the opening of a U2 concert, let me tell ya. it just kind of ramped up… slowly.. so slowly.. guitarist tuning and playing some licks that were maybe recognizable. mic checks. random drumming. then, no friendly banter from the lead singer erik, welcoming us, or saying it was great to be at 308 stanton, ames. just the start of their first song of their first set of their first gig ever. and maybe it was just the beer (ok, most likely), but they sounded okay. i recognized their songs. they had the place rockin. people were actually dancing to them, and everyone was facing them. it was cool. i’m sure the band was into it, jammed into our corner, the throng pressing in on them.

during their first break, roach convinced me to help him w/ a ‘beer-ee-oaky’ song. put loud public enemy back on the stereo, and we would help chuck D belt out the verses using the band’s sound system. trust me, it sounds better when i type it than it sounded. i think we were unceremoniously escorted away from the mics by erik, to much applause.

i took a break to go across the street to 307 stanton. (aside: while co-op-ing (interning) at quantum chemical in lil old clinton/camanche, iowa, i looked for some off-campus housing for my return to State, i hooked up w/ roach, et. al who had found the house available at 308 stanton ave. unbeknownst to me, the future wife to be, B, had also been house hunting w/ some of her grrrrls. when she told me she found a house at 307 stanton, i thought she was pulling my leg (or pulling something). but nope. either she did some great detective work to find out where i was gonna live, and made sure she was close enough to be able to harass me, or it was serendipity. of the 25,000 student living quarters in ames, she picked the one 100 ft away. anyway, that led to “us” directly. 307 vs. 308. goofy how life works out. had she picked 230 campus ave who knows? i may be w/ one of becky’s roommates (hopefully not the goth i hate men patchouli wearin’ black dressin’ greasy hair unwashin’ coppin’ attitude liberal, pasty, pierced scary one w/ the 2 cats). anyway, becky (nee rebecca) was planning on being fashionably late to our party, and she was putting the finishing touches on her ‘party hair’ / peacock / bend over, hair spray your bangs, stand up. repeat, along w/ her friends/roommates maria and kelly. while at her house, at the upstairs windows, it was the perfect vantage point to take it all in over at 308. folks streaming up the sidewalks in waves, nay, armadas, from all directions, some carrying glasses (hope the BW confiscated em) and every time our front door opened, a huge plume of steam/smoke just poured out into the february night. really billowed out, like there was a fire inside. most of it was just hot, sweaty, humid air hitting the feb. cold, cuz there wasn’t many smokers there. it was somethin. wasn’t many cars out front, just a smattering (everyone lived walking distance to everything. one block off main campus street, in between everything, was 308). i loved that scene. was anxious to get back in the middle of it.

the peacock finally ready. getting back to the party, fighting our way thru the folks milling or waiting or getting cooled off or yacking or relieving or whatever, katie (kate! katie! the bw’s name! too lazy to correct it up there in the story, tho) was at the door, doing the her job better than anyone in the business. in fact, when i came back in, she was in distress. she looked relieved to see me. she immediately moved a couch and pulled me into the barricaded room (witte’s room) right by the door. i wondered why. here’s why: she then started pulling money out from every pocket and fold and sock and who knows where else. it was unbelievable. mostly crumpled ones, but a few fives and tens. damn! and she said that roach and burk had already cleaned her out a few times already. wow, a bed full of money... several inches high. i rolled it all up like the big shots do in the casino movies. ended up as a thick can-sized wad. and stashed it in witte’s backpack. never to be seen again. (nah, we all pooled all the money together in the ‘morning after’). thanked kate for her services, but told her it was only 10:00 and people still want glasses. went to the basement to freshen up the glass. some folks were relieving themselves in the way back corner. i started yelling at them, until i realized doug was back there, too, and it’s his room, so who was i to stop em? “hey! doug SLEEPS there! oh, hi, doug... nevermind. carry on”

near the beer, along w/ the countless plastic cups being held up, this one guy was actually holding up a sandwich tupperware, jockeying for position towards the tap. he had been drinking out of THAT. after working my way over to him, and trying to make him feel as stupid as he looked, i kindly suggested that he go buy a cup from kate and put back our favorite tuna sandwich tupperware. he was trying to tell me that that’s what they gave him at the door. i don’t think so. however, everybody’s attention quickly turned to the old 2 X 8 wood planks without railings that made up our stairs. roach was bounding down them, backwards, loudly, w/ a full keg tumbling right behind him. he was trying to hoist it down gently, but lost his footing. the keg landed on his left leg at the bottom of the steps, snapping his bone right at the upper ankle. ouch. first, he thought he’d drink thru the pain, and sat upstairs having folks beer him, sitting like a mafia don w/ his captains. finally, the wuss went to the hospital, got it set and casted, and actually made it back before the party was over. now THAT’s dedication. true anecdote.... actually, everything here is true... at least through the beer fogs of time. was too passé to have anyone sign the cast, but just put his casted leg up on a table, and folks kept his glass full.

upstairs, the band was working through their set list for the second (third?) time, but nobody cared. the game was to try to figure out the song first. sometimes, it took a few seconds (or minutes). burk then brought out his snake, Monty, the python. a big ball python about 7 feet long. coiled it around his neck, chomping on a big stogy ala schwartenagger. big guy was burke. played football as a freshman, i think. gave it up (or it gave him up) chicks dug the snake. and he passed it around to em. the snake loved squeezing necks. it was a huge, heavy thing, but always very sedate and nice. the heat inside the house was intense. crammed shoulder to shoulder absolutely everywhere. must’ve been 300 folks there. more kegs needed. someone already had picked up the 3 reserves, but we needed more. i enlisted duke and shu, along w/ becky (‘rebecca’ wouldn’t be born for another 5 yrs). <sermon time. yes, i realized i shouldn’t’ve been driving, but of the bunch, i was in the best condition. sorry as i was>. also, luckily, it wasn’t too far away. about a mile on slow city roads, w/ stop signs or lights every block. so, w/ 2 kegs in the trunk, and a few more in back seat, and w/ them sitting on em, and the back end almost riding on the tires, it was a precarious voyage back. had to break off some of the benjamins (oh, wait... i mean jeffersons and lincolns in cold cash, homie!) but we received a hero’s welcome back at 308. well, ‘we’ didn’t, i guess, but the beer did. hundreds of dry coeds and guys, having only drunk 1.50 worth, or 0.0 worth, or 5.0 worth, but still! a dry house! oh, the horrors. we had borrowed a second tap from someone earlier in the night, so the beer was disappearing quick. almost too quick.

a gaggle of chemE’s even showed up, and were off in a corner, in a tight group, looking shell-shocked, sipping their beers. maybe this shouldn’t have been the first party to invite them to, because everything was to the extreme. not for the timid. we (roommates/me) worked the crowd w/ pitchers of beer, whenever we got the chance or felt altruistic. i always started in that chemE corner w/ a pitcher and worked out from there, so they wouldn’t have to fight their way downstairs into the most aggressive beer circle i’d ever seen. tempers usually didn’t flare up, tho, even tho folks got spilled on, pushed, crushed, stepped on, because it was just par for the course. expected. and most everyone knew everyone else, or at least knew somebody who knew somebody else. no beer-rage here.

finally, the band wrapped things up (no encores, thankfully). they did an impressive job, and certainly didn’t embarrass themselves or our fine house’s reputation. back to the stereo, back to public enemy and other old school hiphop (and for roach: milli vanilli, who still liked that damnable trashy cd even after they were discredited as pop-induced lip synchers). and his milli vanilli posters and milli vanilli do-rags and ripped t-shirts and autographed 8x10 glossies? oh, c’mon! well, not really. he was more into new kids on the block. some young lil freshman-like girls thought nothing could be better than some garth brooks and some ac/dc, and that new rap *hit had to go. they kept trying to break into roach’s room to change the music. bad idea. they were escorted out. really annoying. “no! we want garth! not this rap sh**!”

after cleaning out katie (the BW) one more time, i made an executive decision. (actually, i think i ran it by whoever roommates i could find, just to make sure they agreed) i gave the band some playing money. 20 bucks apiece. of course, they weren’t insulted by the paltry sum. rather, they were thrilled at the unexpected windfall, which looked bigger than it actually was, via the delivery method of handing them crumpled, uneven, mismatched fists of cash. this was their first paying gig. they stuck around to see if any ‘groupies’ appeared, but nope, just the same friends they always party with. the band was always high on my pitcher refill list, too, right behind the circle of cowering chemEs.

people started filing out after 11-12ish. not a mad rush, but the direction was certainly out, not in. some pizzas should have been ordered w/ part of the windfall, but nobody got around to it. katie gave up the glasses job. we insisted that she take 20, or 40, or whatever a handful of wet, badly folded, mismatched bills was worth, because w/out her diligence, we would have not cleared half of what we did.

i didn’t have the energy or incentive to un-barricade my room, and chose instead the quiet, warm, dry, smoke-free puke-free, noise-free environs of 307 to crash for the night. i guess the fact that becky-the-big-party-haired-woman was there may have had something to do w/ that decision, too, tho, in retrospect, but actually not too much. even if sister ezekiel (a short, warted, mean nun in full nun-wearables) from my from 2nd grade teacher/nun had been in 307 instead of becky, i STILL would have went there.

the next morning was a bit surreal. walking back over to 308 mid-morning, still in a groggy/drunk mode, i couldn’t help but notice a few things. someone had written a big “NO BEER” with lipstick, on our house siding, right by the front door. kind of like a scarlet letter, scaring away would-be late partiers who heard about a great party too late. or maybe someone from inside kept getting woken up by folks wanting to ‘party’, and thought that sign would keep them from knocking. the front and side yard (and i’ll try not to be too graphic here) was a mixture of melted snow, and plenty of once-ran-through beer remains, as well as ample evidence of mass-indigestion. the bottoms of our house and nearby cars had all the salt and mud washed off them, many times over, in nice little ‘golden arches’. mcdonalds would be proud.

that was just a inkling of what the inside of the house had in store. in fact, it was worse than outside. the green matted shag carpet was barely visible under the broken plastic cups, cigarette and cigar butts, ripped up posters, overturned couches and cushions, some random bottles folks had brought in to tie (tide?) them over until the keg glasses could be filled, some wet rugs and pillows, muddied papers / newspapers and whatever else we didn’t lock up. the rug (that was visible) was soaked w/ melted snow, mud and spilled beer. witte was sleeping on a chair – apparently, he didn’t feel up to breaking thru his bedroom-barricade, either. as he was still waking up, tho, he was worried, and was mumbling about monty. the last thing he knew or remembered from last night, he had the snake, monty. and now, he no longer had the snake, and the snake wasn’t in its cage, and nobody has seen it after witte. so, ever so gently, we started digging for Monty. the snake needed to be found. somewhere. thankfully, he finally turned up in a couch, underneath the cushions, and no worse for wear (at least that we could see). we unwound him from the “C” wire cushion bottoms and returned him to his safe, warm glass cage. he needed to see a snake-therapist for months after this episode.

someone had tried running through a wall by the front door. they made it about half way through. if only i had the tools and know-how of sheetrocking then that i have now, i coulda done magic on that wall. however, a big, free poster for Bud (the bud girls.. remember them, in their ‘bud’ bathing suits written across 3 buxom babes and their underlying bud towel?) hid the hole just at good, and was a lot quicker, too. also, we had no running water. also, someone smashed the natural gas meters in the basement (why, we still wonder). also, the toilet was clogged and broken. the sink was clogged. the hot water heater wouldn’t re-light (someone must have saw it as a convenient ‘watering hole’ and of course every self-respecting guy needs to have a target in mind or have a watering post to help the flow). the main table we used for whatever (newspapers, phone messages, backpacks, groceries) was missing a leg.

but, oh, well, on the positive note, the party was a smashing success. literally. everyone slowly got up, and started putting the house back together. no radio. no tv. no stereo. no loud noises, period. the basement beer mud was thick, and smelly? damn! we all collected the money’s we had squirreled away (pockets, backpacks, hiding spots) and put it into a big pile. a very impressive pile. a foot tall, few feet across. wow. settled up the costs for the extra kegs, and tried to recount how much was given away, and to whom. i forget how much we each cleared, but it was a helleva lot more than we ever thought it would be. about 50 future keggor fees, i think. but we didn’t do it for the money. we did it just for the sake of doing it. with much of the proceeds, we set up a very healthy toilet paper / paper towel endowment fund for the house.. and we were the foundation chairs for this endowment. usually, we just traded in cans/bottles at a nickel a pop when we were way past desperate in the toilet paper arena. but now, we were now rich w/ paper! a whole semesters worth of no-worry bathroom visits.

roach’s leg healed no problem. (altho his car antennae got bent off, too, pry by someone steadying themselves against his car. shoulda got a portapotty out front). the plumber was called. gas company was called. the old pipes were used so much that rust had been shaken free and clogged it all up (or maybe all that bass from the band loosened it. the gas company guy (a young guy not too far out of college himself, or at least college-aged) took pity on us and installed all new natural gas meters for free. becky actually helped clean up, too. i remember that because she pulled the band’s song list out from the garbage and told me i should keep it. it was taped to the floor by the band so they would know the order of the songs, and could segue easier. it was written using a red marks-a-lot smeary, wet, torn, burned, but still barely readable. in fact, i think i’ll dig thru old college notes and memorabilia box under the ol’ steps and try to find that bad boy. too bad that band didn’t make it to the big time, i could auction off that piece of paper on e-bay for a fortune.

i had an interview w/ koch in wichita for that next monday, and had to leave sunday morning for the airport. i still wasn’t quite ‘regular’ and fully over the carnage from friday, but apparently i did okay anyway. i got the koch internship which led me to a full time koch job which then led me to 3m. so i credit that party a decade ago w/ putting me on the road to professional success. i highly recommend a similar career path for every collegiate. but just don’t agree to sleep in any basements, no matter how reasonable the rent. the top-dwellers paid $112 each. doug paid $50 in the basement cave. 4 bedroom + basement. 3 blocks from campus, 1 block from campus-town. house completely trashed when moved in. no security deposit needed. no lease terms. perfect house. we were last ones to live there. it was condemned and tore down the summer after we graduated. rebuilt an apartment complex on our old home. progress? i think not.

we had other parties after that first big blowout, but none were as big, crazy, fun, crowded, or as memorable as that first one was. we realized smaller parties w/ mostly people we all knew had lots fewer headaches than the free-for-all trash-the-house kind. Monty the python finally succumbed to the cold and unfriendly climate of a badly insulated house in the middle of iowa winters, and even though he had a heating lamp and rock, he didn’t survive the year. found him dead and cold and coiled up one morning. we had a snake wake in his honor, tho, where he would come out of his permanent storage location of our freezer, all coiled up, frozen stiff, right between the totino party pizzas, and grace the party goers w/ his presence. that was another good party. the snake-wake party. but all the rest run together. monty slowly degraded in the freezer due to all the handling and shuffling, parts of his skin shedding and peeling off into the freezer. and finally burk had to find a more permanent home for him besides intermingled in the pile of pizzas. (4 totino party pizzas for $3 at value-save-more-hy-vee grocery or whatever it was called)

prologue: about a year after graduating, i stopped by the old house on stanton ave, to see if i knew anybody anymore, and to see what they had done to our place (palace!). everybody was gone, a ‘condemned’ notice on the front door. weeds growing over all the sidewalks and driveway. that made me feel bad. what a waste of a perfectly good party house. they tore it down shortly after, and put up a new building in its place. so it goes. progress. moral of this story? is none. lessons learned? are none. when you’re living thru the middle of a crazy time like college, you take a lot of it for granted, and don’t even realize that it’s out of the ordinary to invite 300 total strangers into your house, have 6 hours worth of fun w/ them, and then they leave, never to see you again. and then the next week, you do the same exact thing at someone else’s house/apartment w/out thinking anything of it. what a time. gone by. gone forever. condemned to the dustbin of memories.

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