#it’s also worth noting that in basically every interview he gave at the time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lotusflowerbreakingthesurface · 3 months ago

Text

PingXie Moments Compilation

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝟖𝟏𝟕 𝐃𝐚𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥!! 🎉

On this special day, let's reminisce about PingXie moments in the book∼ Fanfictions are indeed tasty, but the canon moments are also delicious, right? (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Truthfully, I planned to compile all of them in one post, but I realized that there are too many PingXie moments, I'm afraid if I post them all, I will become a PingXie Bot, thus I picked some moments (and some jokes) that I thought were quite memorable and interesting. It's only 40 moments, it doesn't follow the timeline, perhaps only 80% of them.

Warning: Spoilers! Very long post! CP-oriented post! It's a compilation of PingXie moments in the book, naturally, there are spoilers. I added a little notes/meta/comments/related interviews as supplementary files. And I'm not an expert in the Chinese language (as you already know, I use mtl) so I put the source below, just in case you want to check the Chinese raw or other translations yourself. I apologize in advance if there is any mistake m(_ _)m

(Since there is a limit to insert images, I went with quoting them.)

Sources: Chinese Raw | MereBear's Translation | 瓶邪bot | Original Image by 刘巴布 | Divider by @anitalenia

1. Daomu Biji Vol. 1: Seven Star Lu Palace Chapter 2

As I was talking, I saw a young man walking out of the front door with a long thing on his back that was tightly wrapped in cloth. I knew at first glance that it was an ancient weapon. This thing was indeed very valuable, and if it sold well, the price could go for more than ten times its worth.

Note: In the book, it was their first meeting. But in an old Daomu Biji mobile game, NPSS added this line (it seems that he forgot about it later though):

“The first meeting with Zhang Qiling was not downstairs of Uncle Three's house, but at Wu Xie's full-month celebration, but they both forgot it.” ☆

2. Daomu Biji Vol. 4: Snake Marsh Ghost City (Part II) Chapter 18 | Chapter 47 (MereBear)

He continued, "I am a person without a past and a future. All I do is to find find my connection with this world. Where did I come from and why am I here?" He looked at his hands and said calmly, "Can you imagine that if someone like me disappears from this world, no one will find out, as if I have never existed in this world, without leaving any trace? Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I often doubt whether I really exist or am just a phantom of a person."

I was speechless and thought for a while before saying, "It's not as exaggerated as you say. If you disappear, at least I will find out."

3. Daomu Biji Vol. 6: Ancient Building Under the Dark Mountain Chapter 39

Pangzi gestured for me to ask Men You Ping. I looked at him and heard him say, "About five hours ago, you appeared where you are now, in a deep coma, barely conscious. We gave you a simple first aid, and then five hours later, you woke up."

I waited for Men You Ping to continue speaking, but he shut up.

"That’s it?" I asked in surprise.

"That’s it." He said in a muffled voice.

[....]

Pangzi nodded and said, "Xiaoge and I have been in another cave, which is relatively dry, but I will come here to get water every once in a while. When I found that there was suddenly another person in the cave, I was scared to death, but I recognized you immediately, called Xiaoge, and rescued you together. You were already dead, so if you really need to find someone to save your life, I, Pangye, was still qualified to make a guest appearance. Later, we were afraid that you might have broken bones, so we didn't dare to move and just waited here for you to wake up."

Note: Xiaoge gives Wu Xie mouth-to-mouth resuscitation here. Someone analyzed it and NPSS confirmed it. Here is the analysis:

“If you want to perform CPR on a person who is not breathing without moving the body, the most basic and important thing is artificial respiration. Judging from Pangzi's tone, the whole rescue process was completed by him and Men You Ping. But there is a key word here: "guest appearance". Pangzi did not play the main role in the rescue process. So who played this main role? I think everyone should understand.” ☆

4. Daomu Biji Vol. 6: Ancient Building Under the Dark Mountain Chapter 49

He leaned against the stone wall behind him and said calmly: "He and I can't leave."

"What nonsense are you talking about?" I cursed.

He suddenly smiled at me and said: "Fortunately, I didn't kill you..."

I was stunned. He spat out a mouthful of blood.

"You--" My head buzzed.

He still smiled at me, his head slowly lowered, and sat there, as if he was just taking a rest. However, the surroundings were completely silent.

Note: There once was a typo in the first draft, but it was edited later.

Edited version: “还好，我没有害死你……”

Unedited version: “一汀烟雨杏花寒好，还好，我没有害死你......”

“一汀烟雨杏花寒” comes from an ancient poem “戴叔伦：燕子不归春事晚，一汀烟雨杏花寒”, it describes the scenery of late spring and expresses the feelings of melancholy and separation. ☆

5. Daomu Biji Vol. 7: Stone Shadow in Qiong Cave Chapter 18

Men You Ping did not answer her. Instead, he turned to me and said, "Take me home." Then he walked out without looking back.

6. Daomu Biji Vol 8: The Finale Book 2 Chapter 3 | Part 2 Chapter 54 (MereBear)

I was stunned for a moment, and then froze. At that moment, my mind became blank.

I couldn’t describe the emptiness in my heart. I suddenly didn’t know what I should do.

Dead? You’ve got to be kidding me.

Is he really dead? Hey, what kind of international joke is this?

"Wake up. Let's go home." I patted his face, suddenly finding it all very funny. I turned to Pangzi and laughed. "Look at Xiaoge."

"I know." Pangzi said on the side, his voice was very low.

Then, my hands began to tremble uncontrollably. I looked at my hands and found that there was no sadness in my heart. My consciousness did not react, but my body instinctively felt despair.

I thought to myself, he’s really fucking sitting there, he’s really fucking dead. Men You Ping is really fucking dead!

There were actually such things in this world, and Men You Ping could actually die.

[....]

My instincts were collapsing under the pressure, but all kinds of uncomfortable feelings were still leaking out of the "pressure cooker" of emotions. I felt that I couldn't let my emotions run wild, because if I got sad, I might die here. I feel very strange in my heart, not just sad. I don’t know if others can understand my complicated feelings. First there was despair, then more of a distrust of what I saw. My mind went blank for a long time before all the emotions in my heart came to the surface.

I have always wondered how I would feel if Men You Ping died. I thought that maybe I was extremely sad, or maybe I had thought about it too much and done too much mental preparation, so I became numb and felt that I could totally bear it. Now that it has really happened, it has turned into a strange mood that I can’t even deal with.

After that, I was in a dilemma, not knowing whether I should be sad or pretend to be calm and endure the pain. In the end, the former gradually prevailed. I did nothing beside his body, just stared blankly.

But just when I felt that tears were about to fall, I suddenly saw Men You Ping's hand move and scratch the floor!

Comment: I feel like "Wake up. Let's go home." is the answer to Xiaoge's "Take me home." in the previous moment, don't you think so? And here is the description of Wu Xie's feelings when he thought that Xiaoge died. It's quite long and depressing... T_T

7. Daomu Biji Vol. 8: The Finale Book 2 Chapter 25 | Part 2 Chapter 76 (MereBear)

"I came to say goodbye to you." He said, "It's all over. I thought about my connection with this world, and it seems that the only one I can find now is you."

Comment: Is this the kind of connection that Xiaoge was looking for in Daomu Biji Vol. 4?

Note: In the Live Broadcast Interview on June 11, 2021, there was a question about what "嫩牛五方" Nenniu Wufang (Iron Triangle + HeiHua) think of Wu Xie, and this is Xiaoge's part:

NPSS: For Zhang Qiling, Wu Xie is his only connection with the human world. He can live without any connection with the human world. After so many years, Wu Xie was the opportunity that made him willing to connect with the human world, which was also something that required courage for him, because connecting with Wu Xie means connecting with other people. At the beginning, Wu Xie was just one of the many people he had saved, but Wu Xie reached a state of transcendence through his own qualities. He was able to attract another person who was not a mortal. There is such a person, when you look him in the eye, you will have this feeling-

Host: This is that person, this is the person I am looking for.

NPSS: Yes. ☆

8. Daomu Biji Vol. 8: The Finale Book 2 Chapter 27 | Part 2 Chapter 78 (MereBear)

That night, we found a relatively dry place and lit a fire. Sitting in front of the fire, he silently looked at me for the first time.

I also stared at him for a long time. Since he kept looking at me like this, I began to wonder whether the focus of his gaze was actually on me. When I found that he was really looking at me, however, I felt very strange. I said, "Is something wrong with me? Is there a monster behind me?" I asked him several times, but he didn't respond. I thought this person was not very normal at ordinary times. Now in this situation, I definitely couldn't understand and didn't need to understand. But after a while, he suddenly asked me for a cigarette.

9. Daomu Biji Vol. 8: The Finale Book 2 Chapter 28 | Part 2 Chapter 79 (MereBear)

I screamed as I rolled all the way down the hillside. I knew it was a very steep cliff with a drop of at least thirty meters, so even if there was snow below, I would never be safe.

[....]

Just when I was about to despair, I suddenly heard a movement outside. Then, my flailing hands were grabbed by someone, and I was pulled out of the snow pit. I gasped for breath, and saw Men You Ping grabbed the back of my collar and pulled me out of the snow with force.

My eyes still saw a pink color, which was quite blurry. I looked at him, and I was so angry that I asked him: "Why did you come back again?"

He looked at me, then at the cliff above his head, and said to me, "I heard your cry for help."

Note: This is one of the famous PingXie moments, which later someone brought up this scene again in the comment section of the online version of Sand Sea 3 Chapter 5 (Chapter 116 on MereBear's site: Like a Red Bean in the Exquisite Dice, My Love for You is Deep in My Bones) in 2014. Here is the famous comment that is still circulating around in the DMBJ fandom:

“The moment I fell, holding my neck, I thought I couldn't speak anymore. The sky of Motuo was still empty, just like the Changbai Mountain. But this time, no one would jump down thirty meters to pull me up. I asked him why he came, and he said he heard my voice.” ☆

However, people still doubt where this quote actually comes from. As someone said, what I've mentioned before is the most likely source since it is the earliest one that can be found. The site was closed down, so I can't check it myself.

10. Daomu Biji Vol. 8: The Finale Book 2 Chapter 28 | Part 2 Chapter 79 (MereBear)

"That’s fine, do whatever you want. If you really knock me out, I have nothing to say, but I hope you know that if you need someone to accompany you to the end, I won’t refuse." I said, "I want to accompany you. This is my own decision, so don't worry about it."

Top comment: One is a confession that travels thousands of miles away, and the other is a stumbling pursuit. ☆

11. Daomu Biji Vol. 8: The Finale Book 2 Chapter 29 | Part 2 Chapter 80 (MereBear)

Men You Ping nodded, and I asked him: "If this is not the case, according to the promise, who should be the next in line for the Old Nine Gates?"

"You." Men You Ping said.

Me? I was stunned for a moment: "You mean, I was supposed to stay behind this bronze door for ten years?"

Men You Ping nodded, and just as I was about to ask him to clarify, Men You Ping suddenly reached out and pressed the back of my neck, and I lost consciousness."

12. Excerpt from 《与邪共予起灵书》 or see more here

I saw Menyouping standing in the dazzling light of the bronze door, as if waiting for me. It turns out that not everyone has left me. He is right here, behind this mysterious bronze door, looking forward to meeting me again just like me. Ten years, it sounds like a long time that cannot be passed, but when that moment comes, we will definitely feel the brevity of time. Its brevity may just be because you are looking forward to a reunion. You use your ten years to exchange my lifelong innocence, then I will use the next ten years and more ten years to exchange your ten years.

The passage above is related to the famous quote “用我一生换你十年的天真无邪” (I'll give you my whole life in exchange for your ten years of innocence).

According to this post, this sentence first appeared in a forum interview in 2010. When NPSS talked with readers about the final ending of the characters in the main story (Daomu Biji Vol. 1-8), he used the sentence "用自己的一生，再换你十年的天真无邪" (I'll give you my whole life in exchange for another ten years of your innocence) to summarize the ending of Zhang Qiling and Wu Xie in the main story.

NPSS's interview with Nangong Ling, the owner of PingXie Bar on Baidu Post Bar or Tieba (a popular Chinese forum) at that time: The Long-Delayed New Year Interview on March 11, 2010 ☆

Q: Is Wu Xie the most miserable person in the whole book? Is it true that one of him and Pingzi (Xiaoge) will die in the end?

A: Wu Xie is the most miserable, his life is a doomed tragedy, but Lao Zhang is not easy either.

Q: Then?

A: It delayed the occurrence of the whole tragedy.

Q: Then they suffered a tragedy together?

A: I use my life to exchange for your ten years of innocence.

And there is a follow-up. On November 1, 2011, NPSS participated in a symposium at Shenzhen University and interpreted the meaning of this sentence. ☆

Q: How do you understand "用我一生换你十年天真无邪" (I will give you my whole life for your ten years of innocence)?

A: On a very quiet night, I was sitting in front of my computer, chatting with an online friend who was my reader. She asked me if I could describe the whole story in one sentence. Then I thought about it and realized that the story could be described in one sentence: "用我一生换你十年的天真无邪" (I will give you my whole life for your ten years of innocence). It is not a very equal exchange. It is an infinite sacrifice of one person for another in exchange for a limited benefit.

13. Tibetan Sea Flower Part 1 Chapter 39

I said, "I don't know. I always feel that it's safer to be around Xiaoge. If he's not around, at least having his statue is better than having no statue at all."

14. Sand Sea 2 Chapter 53 | Chapter 92 (MereBear)

"Are you really willing to bear it?"

"I have no choice."

"You have a choice, you just can't see it."

"That means there is no choice."

Sigh

"Then will you tell him all this?"

"No."

"Then what will you tell him?"

"I will tell him that he is just a patient, and from now on, he can rest."

"They won't let you say these words."

"I won't allow them to stop me."

15. Sand Sea Part 3 Chapter 5 | Chapter 116 (MereBear)

玲珑骰子安红豆，入骨相思知不知

A dainty die with red beans engraved in it, don't you know, is a love yearning that penetrates to the bone?

(—Rediscovering Wen Tingyun by Mou, Huaichuan)

Note: As we know, this candy is only a title, but it has a deep meaning. “玲珑骰子安红豆，入骨相思知不知” is a passage from a poem by Tang Dynasty poet, Wen Tingyun (温庭筠), it's the second poem of two love poems in his collection of poems 《新添声杨柳枝词二首》/《南歌子词二首》.

井底点灯深烛伊，共郎长行莫围棋

玲珑骰子安红豆，入骨相思知不知

The poem is written in the voice of a woman, expressing her attachment to her lover, in the first line, it means she earnestly asked her husband not to miss the return date when he travelled far away. It is the woman's deep longing for her husband and the strong love she has for him that is hard to let go. The second line means the lovesickness that goes deep into the bones, revealing -once again- the woman's strong love that is hard to let go. And the words "Don’t you know?" (知不知) vividly expresses the woman's long separation, the difficulty of reunion, the deep pain of missing him, and even the fact that she wants to talk to no one. It can be said that the ending is natural and the aftertaste is endless. What the readers feel is the sincere and passionate love in the woman's heart —Baidu Encyclopedia

Since there is no way for me, a complete novice, to explain it through semantic and syntactic analysis, please visit here or here for more explanation.

In WeChat interview on August 6, 2013, NPSS said the reason why he chose that title:

Q: Sanshu, I would like to ask you, in Sand Sea series, when Wu Xie was slashed in the throat by the man in white, why was the chapter titled "玲珑骰子安红豆，入骨相思知不知"?

A: I chose that chapter title because that was the emotion I felt at the time. ☆

16. 2014 Chinese New Year Special "Fantasy" Chapter 27 (Epilogue) | Chapter 2.31 (MereBear)

When the sun absorbed the fog and dispersed it, the black fog completely dissipated. I turned my head to see where Men You Ping was, but saw the sunset shining in from the window next to me.

It was over, I was stunned for a moment and realized.

I was back in the small power station.

My hands and feet slowly revived, and the severe pain in my nasal cavity began to attack. The throat was full of the smell of blood, and all the blood turned into a paste in my throat.

In all the moments of coming back, I always felt a very sad emotion in my heart, which would make me silent for a moment.

Don't make the illusion too beautiful because it will eventually disappear. You think you have obtained and grasped it, but in fact there is nothing. This kind of memory is no different from my real memory. People themselves cannot really own anything.

17. Ten Years Chapter 31

This was written for me, he knew I would fulfill my promise. He hid the clue in Chen Pi Ah Si's nose, which really gave me face.

I clenched my fists, and a sense of security that I hadn't felt for many years suddenly rose from the bottom of my heart.

Note: The bolded sentence is an additional sentence in the physical book of Ten Years.

18. Ten Years Chapter 36

In the past ten years, I have had many dreams. I dreamed of him when he was young and I met him when I was young.

19. Ten Years Physical Book

"Not only that, if you can truly believe that you can do this, you can do anything." The voice in my heart answered me, "But, believing in yourself may be the most difficult thing in the world."

"What's so difficult about believing in yourself?" I asked.

"Just like you can't believe that you can walk on the water, only a very few people can truly believe in themselves." The voice in my heart answered me, "You can't even believe that you really entered here and heard these words."

A vast pool of water suddenly appeared in front of me, and the water surface was as calm as a mirror.

I looked at the surface of the pool and touched it with my feet. It was cold water. The waves spread and quickly disappeared at the end of the visible range. I saw a figure appearing very, very far away.

It was a familiar back, it was Xiaoge.

I stepped on it and fell into the water.

Then, I woke up. I looked up at the bronze door.

It was a dream, the door was still closed tightly.

I looked at my hand, and the wound was not cracked.

Comment: I really like the implication here, Wu Xie trusts Xiaoge more than himself...

20. Ten Years Chapter 41

"The people in that village make a dessert from glutinous rice and brown sugar. Since there’s plenty of rain in the village, a special weed called Yuzai ginseng grows there. The petals of this weed are put into the dessert, and are said to help with memory. Of course, it’s only a local legend."

I kept yawning as I spoke. My consciousness began to blur, but I didn’t stop talking.

I don’t know how long I stayed up, but in my hazy state, I suddenly felt someone slowly sit down beside me.

I hesitated for a moment, turned my head to look, and the other person also turned his head to look at me.

Pangzi slowly woke up and looked at us.I saw a familiar face, indifferent eyes, reflecting the light of the campfire.

People say that when you forget someone, the first thing you forget is their voice. But when he spoke, it wasn’t unfamiliar at all.

"You are old." He said

The music was still flowing, in this place closest to hell.

Pangzi came up, hooked his arm around Men You Ping's shoulder, and caused him to stumble: "How can we compare with you, Xiaoge? And you were willing to come out!!"

Men You Ping swayed from all the jostling.I pulled down my sleeve, covered the scars on my arm, and stood up.

He smiled at me and I lifted my bag: 'Let’s go."We just…haven’t seen you for a long time.

....

I live at the North Sea and you at the South Sea,

I asked the wild goose to pass a letter but was told they could not.

Each of us held a cup of wine and talked amid spring wind with peach and plum blossom,

For ten years we missed each other before lamps during night rain outside.

Note: About the poem, MereBear has already explained here. This is the Chinese version:

我居北海君南海，寄雁传书谢不能；

桃李春风一杯酒，江湖夜雨十年灯。

In short, it's about friendship, a happy gathering and how deeply they missed each other after they parted.

There is an interesting meta about Xiaoge's "you're old", read here.

Top comment: So when Xiaoge explained the amnesia brought by the heavenly gift in Sea of Lights, he looked into Wu Xie's eyes and said "there will be a little left", which means that Xiaoge faced endless darkness in the door, lost his perception of time, and had to use his remaining memory to try to recall Wu Xie's appearance. The words "you are old" in the past ten years contains Xiaoge's deep and heavy longing for Wu Xie.

21. Daomu Biji Extra: 2019 Mid-Autumn Festival

If Men You Ping said something, then it was fine, but he wouldn’t say anything. Instead, Zhang Haike kept telling me that as an outsider follower of Zhang Qiling, I should take care of these things. Fuck that shit, I thought to myself. I’m a guardian, not an outsider follower. He said that if I did well, I could start the special procedures that would give me the surname Zhang. I could be called Zhang Xie or Zhang Wu Xie in the future. Of course, I could also follow my master and be called Zhang Qixie.

I was so angry that day that I thought my liver was going to burst.

22. Daomu Biji Extra: The Other Shore | The Other Shore (MereBear)

It was too cold here, so after I died, I wouldn't be degraded. I would exist here for thousands and millions of years. I could sit here and let the wind and snow freeze me. According to my experience, hundreds of years later, Men You Ping would see the moment he was seeing now.

I seemed to be seriously ill and chose this ending myself. I was surprisingly calm and had no regrets. Although I could not be truly eternal like him, I found a way to coexist in the same time and space as him.

[....]

I didn't expect it to be so romantic. In this world, there was no other person who could use death as a romantic condiment so naturally.

Note: I think almost the whole short story is candy with a knife, but I can't possibly put it all here. There is a good PV about this short story, you can see it here or here.

Top comment:

”When we first begin to truly love someone, our greatest fear is that the person we love no longer loves us. What we should be afraid of is that even though they are dead, we still can’t stop loving them.”

23. A joke that is written by NPSS and posted on the official blog on Weibo

I hope this letter finds you well, I have heard that Wu Xie is well-informed, has a strong memory, is wise in all things, knows everything about the world like a little snow falls on a red stove and melts immediately, and often stays by the side of the patriarch as the two musical instruments strike the same note. I will come on the moon to meet you.

I looked at the letter, and Pangzi also looked at it, looking at me with an awkward look. I touched my nose and said, "What is this, Chu Liuxiang?"

Note: This joke was about the Zhang family sending a letter to Xiaoge and Wu Xie. “笙磬同音” (the two musical instruments strike the same note) is a metaphor for harmonious relationship as a family, but is often used in wedding congratulations. ☆☆

24. Thousand Faces Part 1-001 | Part 1-Introduction 2 (MereBear)

She looked at me and said, "Wu Xie, what is the secret in your heart? Is there anything you will never let anyone know until you die?"

I looked up at him, and a thought moved in my heart. She tilted her head and caught it: "Ah, you have it in your heart."

I smiled awkwardly. Yes, my thoughts moved just now.

I did have one.

I asked Ah Tuo: "Isn't this embarrassing?"

"That's something only you know." Ah Tou looked at some group photos I had hanging in my study room. "If I tell you a secret that I think is the most incredible. You have to tell me the thought you just had."

[....]

She looked at me, "Let me guess first, do you want... to live forever?"

[....]

"I do, but this is not my secret." I said to Ah Tou, "If there is no afterlife, then I want to live forever. I still have a lot of things I want to do with my friends, but I am not afraid of death. The richness of my life is second to none. I have enough. However, I agree to your conditions."

Note: In the second line, "我抬眼看着他" (I looked up at him), if it was referring to Ah Tou, "他" should be "她". I don't know whether it's a typo or not, some say it's not, and I check the Chinese raw, it still hasn't changed. If it's not a typo, "him" in "I looked up at him" can actually refer to Xiaoge, someone explained it on MereBear's site. Nevertheless, it doesn't change the meaning of "if there is no afterlife, then I want to live forever". Later, in Notes in Rain Village: Courtyard Chapter 12 or Notes in Rain Village: Part 2 Chapter 17, it was emphasized again:

Maybe I don’t believe in the afterlife.

Moreover, the afterlife is meaningless to me. I will not have a more thrilling life than this one.

On the ancient road, I met the ancient soul.

25. Restart Part 1-Not a Chapter | Restart Part 1 Chapter 112,5 (MereBear)

I drank to my heart's content that night. In the past ten or twenty years, I spent my days alone imagining things, panicking and being cowardly. At this moment, I understood the meaning of all of this.

I said to Bai Haotian, "I always hope not to disappoint others. Although it is difficult, I have finally reached the point in my life where I will be satisfied if I can just not disappoint one person."

[....]

I dreamed of the Tibetan Lama Temple, the floating ribbons in my dream, and I dreamed of everything, where I belonged, where my life belonged to, but I dared not touch, emphasize, or solidify it. I was afraid that I was not worthy of those memories, those times. Even though I had done so many things and controlled so many other people, I still did not dare to say any beautiful words.

26. Restart Part 1 Chapter 141 | Part 1 Chapter 141 (MereBear)

What was so important about me? I was a person who would have to say goodbye to Men You Ping one day in his life. I was a person who delayed Pangzi for getting rich and getting married. I made Xiaohua bankrupt, separated Xiuxiu from her closest relatives, and made my parents live in fear that I would follow Uncle Three’s path. I was far from worthy of the name "innocent (无邪)" my grandfather had given me. But in my confused first half of life, I lived an incredibly wonderful life. I had seen countless wonders in the world. I had the most amazing partner with the most stories in the world. We sang loudly on the cliffs, chanted the sutras on the snow-capped mountains, drank wine in the Gobi Desert, and watched the moon on the sea.

I've had enough in this life.

In Sina Weibo micro interview on August 03, 2018, NPSS talked about the bolded sentence:

Q: In the past ten years, Wu Xie's inner demon was Xiaoge. Ten years later, is Wu Xie's inner demon the life span? In the Reboot, he mentioned it many times. I feel depressed when I think of "I am a person who will have to say goodbye to Men You Ping one day in his life".

A: Most people in life will eventually say goodbye. For the one who leaves first, everything will return to peace. The one who leaves later will feel a little painful. It's not that scary. It's just unwilling to accept it.

27. Restart Part 1 Chapter 204 & Chapter 208

"...You have to understand what love is. Love is like a ghost. You can't see it when it comes, and it makes no sound when it leaves. Even if it's there, it's moving around. This thing doesn't make sense, it's fucking haunted. When you see it, it'll just pat its butt and leave. You ask it if it wants to leave or not. If it doesn’t go, you’ll have to light three pillars of incense. If it goes away, you can't find it back even if you burn down the house..."

[....]

"I just want to know what's behind the bronze door. If I'm about to die, can you please whisper something in my ear?" I said in the direction of Men You Ping.

There was no response from the other end, so I said, "If I am about to die, just say something in my ear, and then I will leave with peace of mind. Otherwise, you can't send me away even with three pillars of incense.

28. Restart Part 2 Chapter 12 | Chapter 12 (MereBear)

...But when I saw the look in Men You Ping's eyes when he looked at the rain, I didn't know what year or century he was thinking about.

It was so annoying to partner with a god.

29. Notes in Rain Village Chapter 5

Men You Ping looked at the snow. The wind was blowing in the wrong direction, and the snowflakes kept drifting in. His hair quickly turned white.

I wonder what he would look like with white hair.

30. Notes in Rain Village Chapter 15

"If I were your child*, would you not allow me to smoke?"

"Ah, I don't know, but you fell into a crack in the ground in the middle of the night. I don't have a daughter with night blindness." I glanced at Men You Ping, who was leaning against the door and looking at the two of us. His expression seemed to say, "You two both fell into a crack in the ground, what's there to discuss?"

Note: "If I were your child" is “如果我是你生的” in Chinese raw. There is a comment saying:

“The sentence "if I was born by you (如果我是你生的)" is very interesting. Children usually only use the word "birth (生)" to their mothers, and should say "if I were your child (如果我是你的孩子)" to their fathers. Xu Lei (NPSS) used the word "birth (生)" to Wu Xie through the girl's mouth, and I dare not think about it too much.” ☆

Comment: It's not the first time NPSS used the "birth" joke to Wu Xie, and I still remember how Wu Xie's word in Restart "我他妈能生四个" (I can give birth to four) is like a well-known joke in the fandom. So, I can only blame NPSS for how normal I feel about PingXie Mpreg fics and how many there are.. (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

31. Notes in Rain Village Chapter 17

Men You Ping walked towards us, one step, two steps, three steps, six or seven steps.

He walked to our side, and I looked back at where he was just now, and he was no longer there.

Don't worry about it, I thought to myself, we couldn’t go up, so he walked down.

32. Notes in Rain Village Chapter 23

The two dismantled caissons were finally put up with a simple scaffolding. Men You Ping was so damn cool, I had no idea how he dismantled it. Apart from the movements, I found his extreme concentration and skill really enviable.

33. Notes in Rain Village Chapter 24

I felt a little dizzy after drinking and had a very long dream that night. I dreamed of snow-capped mountains and my own ending.

It was the first time I had this kind of dream, but I knew that I would often dream about this moment from now on.

In this world, everyone was a circle and Men You Ping was the only eternal straight line. We were strung on this straight line like Buddhist prayer beads, heading for the other side that Buddha could see. It was just that the other side was an infinite time and space.

34. Notes in Rain Village: Courtyard Chapter 4 | Chapter 9 (MereBear)

At about 9 o'clock, I was looking at the yard from the window and saw Men You Ping tidying up the moss in the yard alone. I leaned on the windowsill, he sorted it out for more than two hours, and I watched him for more than two hours.

I didn't know if he liked my plan or not, but I thought if Pangzi liked it very much, he might like it a little.

35. Notes in Rain Village: Travel Chapter (Physical Book Version)

That night I had a dream. I dreamed that all the happiness here turned into little elves, flying around people. There was also one behind Deren. His face was constantly changing, but the elf was still shining.

"Don't worry, it's okay." In the dream, Men You Ping said to me. The elf behind him hid in his hair and looked at me shyly.

36. Notes in Rain Village 3: Travel Chapter 43

It just happened to be the last moment of sunset, and the sunset glow on the sea turned colorful. We parked the car and unloaded the poultry and livestock. Pangzi went in to prepare dinner with his friends, and Men You Ping and I sat on the embankment by the sea.

Source: Here

37. Notes in Rain Village 4: Pastoral Chapter 8

Then I saw a very magical place: there was a place far away in the starry sky, where the stars were very dense, and those stars were like waterfalls sliding down from the sky, rushing all the way to the clouds below the train.

"The stars are falling," I said to Men You Ping, sounding like a nonsensical child. "Falling, falling down."

38. Notes in Rain Village 4: Pastoral Chapter 33

When I was halfway up, even though I was wearing a raincoat, I was completely soaked and looked very miserable. I knew I would not give up, but I still felt a little desperate. As if I had sensed something, I suddenly stopped and looked back.

Men You Ping was standing behind me.

I didn't know when he came, but it was just like ten thousand times before.

39. Looking for the Dead in the Sea of Lights Chapter 24

As soon as I walked out of the circle of light from the bonfire, Men You Ping rushed out from the darkness on the other side of the camp, in the opposite direction from me. He jumped on his horse, leaped over the bonfire, rushed behind me, and lifted me onto the horse with one hand. Then, two men and one horse rushed towards Pangzi.

40. Queen Mother's Ghost Banquet Chapter 82

"I, I, I..." I tried to describe it, but I couldn't see clearly with my eyes squinting. I murmured, "I need Xiaoge. I really need him this time."

That's it. Obviously, it's not all of them, but I'm spent haha. People in the Chinese fandom often said that PingXie is a Chinese-style cp and pure love “纯爱” type of ship, which I think it's indeed true. Their heartfelt moments are often hidden between allusions and metaphors, and the strong bond between them mostly relies on the emotional attachment rather than just physical touches or skinships. To me, it makes them so unique and interesting. What's more the taste of pure love that people often associate with this cp/ship is actually pretty rare itself. In the end, they did care for each other regardless of what people used to define their relationship (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*+♡

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝟖𝟏𝟕!ヾ⁠(⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠*⁠)⁠ﾉ

#pingxie #dmbj #daomu biji #817 rice festival #special 817 #happy 817 #盗墓笔记 #瓶邪 #pingxie only #瓶邪only #congratulatory post

49 notes · View notes

finelinevogue · 3 years ago

Text

he’s so vogue

Description - you are the journalist for the new Harry Styles December Vogue Issue

A/N - how is everyone doing? hope you enjoy! if you have any requests please feel free to ask. love you all and have a lovely rest of the week!

warnings: swearing

[masterlist]

Being a journalist for Vogue was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

After 3 years of studying English Literature at Surrey University, you never thought, only a year after, you'd be working as an apprentice at Vogue UK. If it weren't for your Aunty, who worked in the fashion design section at Vogue HQ, then you'd no doubt still be a broke-ass, single, lonely student. Ok, lonely you still were but your job was so full-on that you didn't have time for a relationship.

Two years into your apprenticeship you were promoted to an official member of the team, and then another two years later you got promoted to team leader in your department of journalism, and editing; The Media - or as you like to call it - "The Celeb Goss". You were beyond happy with your job and found such passion in every article your wrote. Whether it be about a new celebrity romance or the collapse of one, you found a way to story-tell in such a meditated way that everyone loved your pieces.

That's why the Harry Styles had requested you to be the one to interview him.

Of course you'd written about A-list celebrities in the past, producing articles on pregnancy rumours, or engagements, or breakups, but you'd never met them before authoring an article. You'd met plenty of D-list celebrities who thought they were mega famous, but if you mentioned their names people would turn around and ask "who?".

This is why interviewing Harry Styles was a massive thing for you.

Not very often did you get to do work out in the field, especially in these covid infested days, but nevertheless it was your favourite part of the job. Getting to meet the people you were writing about was completely refreshing, allowing you to obtain a clearer outlook on which direction to take on your journal piece.

You were asked to go to Stonehenge, where the photoshoot was being filmed, as your office of interview. Even though you'd lived in the UK all your life, you'd never actually been to Stonehenge. It wasn't really on your bucket-list, but it was a pleasure to get to see it all the same.

Being the prepared interviewer you were, you'd prepared an array of questions that you were set on asking Harry. You'd never met him before, but after much googling and youtubing of him prior to meeting him today you would already be confident in saying he's the most brilliant man to ever exist. You were really nervous that you were going to screw this interview up and make a terrible mess in front of Harry Styles.

"Lisa! What if I accidentally say something I shouldn't?" You ran your stressed hands through your hair.

This whole morning had been frantic. It had started off by you waking up late, no thanks to Lisa, your best-friend and co-worker, pressing snooze on the alarm. You wanted to look professional today so you'd put on your best shirt - only to spill coffee down it ten minutes later. So now, you smelt of coffee and were wearing what was left in your wardrobe - and it wasn't much. The only things left clean were a pair of pink corduroy flares and some, pastel coloured, graphic t-shirt to go with it.

"You won't. Stop being so negative." Lisa rolled her eyes, probably fed up with the amount of winging she'd heard from you this morning - and you'd only been awake an hour.

"My outfit is hardly professional either." You huffed, pouring the rest of your, second, coffee down the drain.

"Well I think you look gorgeous." Lisa stated, whilst putting her breakfast bar wrapper in the bin.

You and Lisa were back and forth about you stressing, and such, for about half an hour before you had to leave. You had a great panic about losing your glasses too. You could see without them up close, but for long distance viewing and reading you were practically blind. You were taking Lisa's car, since she didn't think you were emotionally stable enough to drive. Lisa was the creative director on the set, and thank goodness she was so you could at least ramble to someone.

After a two hour drive up from London, you arrived at Stonehenge and it was freezing. Although the sun was out, it did nothing to keep your body heated. The journey up had been nice because you sat in your nicely heated car, chatting away with Lisa and blasting some Harry Styles out of the speaker. You'd made it through the first album, and the second one up to Canyon Moon before reaching your destination.

Upon arriving you could just about, without glasses, make out about 15 other cars, arranged at the bottom of a hill. There was an array of Audis and BMWs, a few Range Rovers, which you placed your bets on one was Harrys, and a green, vintage, Jaguar which was most likely belonging to the fashion editor or something. There was also a modern barn, perched at the foot of the hill, which was where Harry would be getting changed in to his various different outfits.

It took you a moment to register that Lisa had parked and was already clambering out of the car, making you look a little idiotic still blankly staring at the beautiful scenes in front, and around, of you.

But it was still bloody freezing.

You jogged a little to the boot and whipped out your white cardigan. Originally you'd thought that this would've been enough to keep you warm, but now you were starting to think otherwise.

The atmosphere here was amazing. People were rushing around left, right and centre loading, and unloading, various pieces of equipment and clothes. You caught sight of brightly coloured fabrics being carried to and from various places. There were the camera crew, and presumably director, all chatting amongst themselves. The smell of the very fresh air was so lush that you'd forgotten what it smelt like - especially after years in London.

You grabbed your bag from the boot, which had your notes, recording kit and laptop stuffed inside, before locking the car and following Lisa in to the barn.

It was lovely and warm inside - a completely different climate to than the outside. It was as if it was Bali inside and Antarctica outside. Better Bali than Antarctica though.

"Ok. Let's put our stuff down over here and then go find people we need to meet and such." Lisa instructed, you still too in awe of the place to fully comprehend what was going on.

You followed Lisa and you two ended up dropping off your stuff next to some other bags. You took a liking to the purse next to your stuff. Next to your bag, it made yours seem ancient - like it was worth nothing more than a penny. It was luscious and a beautiful baby blue colour. You softly ran your hands over it, finding satisfaction in how smooth and subtle it was.

"Hope you're not planning on stealing that, love." A manly voice appeared from behind you. You whipped around to see who's bag you'd been messing with, and it was just your luck that it was to be Harry Styles'. Of all the people's it could've been it had to be his.

Perfect.

He looked dashing. He was in black flares and his iconic 'But daddy i love him', t-shirt, along with a huge green anorak. His hair was prettily clipped back with a pink clip, presumably placed there to gave his curls greater volume. In his hand he had a pink toothbrush and you guessed he'd come back over to put it away in his bag - only to find you caressing it instead.

"Oh - no, no. Not at all. I - uh - I just thought it was beautiful." You stammered over your words, choosing them carefully to try and make you look less like an active criminal.

"Mhm." Harry nodded whilst looking you up and down, most likely judging why a peasant like you, in comparison to him, was touching his expensive property. "Well, I love your flares darlin'." Harry looked down at your trousers, his compliment making you blush a little.

"Thank you. That wasn't professional, and neither is my outfit, I know, and I apologise." You added, because you knew that if your boss knew you turned up today the way you did she would give you a right bollocking - and potentially even fire you.

"Never apologise for flares. You look amazing." Gemma perked up, making you feel more self conscious surrounded by all these other beautiful women. Gemma was in a slouchy, knitted, jumper and basic jeans - no doubt all from shops beyond your budget - and yet she looked like a model fit for the runway for Vogue.

"Okay, sorry." You apologised again, to which you, creepily, got the exact same, stern, look from the Styles siblings at the same time.

"My stylist, Harry, introduced me to big pants. He offered whether I wanted to try a pair of flares, and I was like, 'Flares? That's fucking crazy'!" Harry laughed as he told his story, earning a laugh out of you too. "Now they're my favourite item of clothing. Have a whole wardrobe dedicated to them."

"I wish he was joking." Gemma laughed at her brother and his flare obsession.

"Well you do look handsome in them, so I understand why." Your words rolls off your tongue before you could even comprehend what you were saying. Only after you finished your sentence did you completely intake what you'd just said.

"Good start." Lisa giggled to you, before turning to walk over to the coffee station. It was a help-yourself coffee bar and you knew that you were going to bed at least five cups to get over the last five minutes alone. You'd probably drain the station before letting anyone else have any.

"Oh god." You awkwardly mumbled, not daring to see how weirdly Harry would be looking at you, before walking off outside.

You had spent less than 10 minutes here and yet you'd never felt like a bigger clown. Joining the circus had never been so easy.

The outside wind hit you like a powerful leaf blower, and your hair blew around like crazy - most likely compiling into a birds nest on the top of your head.

Today was supposed to be the start of something great. Your hopes were set on a promotion from your written masterpiece, whilst enjoying the company of one of the most handsome, most lovely, most talented men of this century. Those hopes seemed a little too distant now. They seemed to mock you, as if to laugh at how you ever thought you were going to be any more successful. You'd completely, in more ways than one, made a fool of yourself in front of your interviewee, you were so underdressed, you were caught fondling his Gucci purse and you were still bloody cold.

It all felt too unprofessional for a job where professional was practically the driving force of the company.

You leaned against the barn, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. You were a master in over-thinking, but unfortunately that wasn't something you could add to your resumé. You let your eyes close and the other senses come alive for a few moments. The sounds of distant sheep and the smell of the cold wind were just two of the senses that allowed you to take a step back for a minute, and breathe.

"Thank you." A voice interrupted you from your attempt of quick meditation. You looked to your left and noticed Harry standing there, still in the same outfit as before.

"I'm sorry?" You asked confused, taking a step away from the barn to considerately pay more attention to him.

"Thank you - for saying I look handsome in flares." He repeated, smirking when he added the second part.

"Oh." Was all you could respond, feeling too embarrassed to take the conversation any further. "I should—" You pointed back to the barn, using it as an excuse to leave before yet screwed up anymore.

"Lisa told me you're the interviewer." Harry added, and it only occurred to you that you'd never actually introduced yourself. "So it's lovely to finally meet you Y/N." He stuck out his hand for your to shake, which you did willingly. His hands were a lot softer than you'd expected.

"Ho... You know my name?" You asked surprised.

"Of course. I also know you're the best writer in Vogue right now." He flattered you, which made you blush. You had a feeling he'd make you do that a lot today.

"Sure." You rolled your eyes as you spoke sarcastically.

"Well I chose you for a reason, didn't I?" He rhetorically asked.

"I mean.. I, well.. I don't know?" You stumbled over your words, making yourself look like a larger fool than you did already. Today was just turning out to be exactly what you didn't want it to be. "Sorry."

"Stop apologising. You do it too often." He told you, nearly making you apologise again but he gave you a jokingly stern look, as if he knew what you were going to say, and so you decided otherwise.

"Harry!" You both turned to see there was a man waving towards you both, but specifically to Harry. "Come get changed!" The same man shouted. Harry lifted his thumbs up, as if to signal he'd be there shortly.

Harry turned back to you and noticed you shiver a little.

"I'll start the interview after I come back from the dressing rooms, yeah?" Harry asked, taking off his, khaki green, trench-coat in the process. He handed it to you before you could oblige against it.

"Wait what?" You confusedly looked down at the coat and back up to Harry.

"Gives me a piece of mind knowing my interviewer isn't going to die of hypothermia before actually interviewing me." He smiled, obviously attempting to crack a joke and you have to admit you did laugh.

"Thank you." You say, before he runs off to where he's being called to.

••••

You'd been sat inside for a little while, waiting for Harry to come back. It gave you time to perfect your questions though.

Thinking up questions to ask Harry had been a challenging task, but one that you'd been fully invested in. You loved creating questions to ask him that were going to get to understand him on a deeper level. He was a very private man, and you completely respected that. If you crossed any boundaries, with the questions you'd ask, you would write them out of the interview. You liked to think you hadn't thought up a question that would make him feel uncomfortable though.

Pissing off Harry would be on another level of shame.

"Coat kept you warm?" Harrys voice disengaged you from your notebook.

"Hm?" You asked then replayed what he'd just asked in your mind. "Oh, yes. Thank you very much." You stood up, from where you'd been perched on the floor, picking up your nearly finished green tea as you did so.

Only when you stood up did it come to your realisation that Harry was now in costume. He was dressed in luxury. Each item looked like it cost more than your rent, and that was saddening. He looked rich and luxurious. To be quite honest, you were finding it rather difficult to take your eyes off him.

"You think the outfit is Vogue enough?" Harry asked, striking a few poses, which made you laugh. It was refreshing to see him act so relaxed and carefree, rather than a stuck-up-prick you knew some celebrities to be.

"Completely. I love it!" You exclaimed, appreciating the twirl he did for you.

He was wearing a kilt-like skirt and he looked beyond beautiful in it. Fuck toxic masculinity. Fuck being a manly man - like what does that even mean? Harry was embracing gender fluidity and experimenting the ways in which there was no definitive line between men and women's clothes anymore, and you thought it was marvellous. Revolutionary, for times as politically and socially troubled as these.

You started removing the coat in attempt to give it back to him, but he refrained you from doing so by holding on to your forearm.

"Keep it. I thought we could go outside to start the interview, so you'll be needing that." Harry told you, and you agreed - however reluctantly that was. You couldn't really complain though, because the coat did kept you warm and, what's better, it smelt divine - just like you'd imagine Harry to smell.

"Okay. Thank you. Do you want to go now?" You asked hesitantly, not knowing whether he was busy for someone else right now.

"Whenever you're ready, love." He answered, making you feel more relaxed. He was going at your pace and was making you feel settled - he was even more of a gentleman than people described him to be.

The two of you had walked around the backside of the barn in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. Well, at least you were. It was a blessing no one was back here. It was just you, Harry and the scenery that surrounded Stonehenge.

You approached a bench and you plopped yourself down on one end, whilst Harry sat on the other. He respected the fact that there was a pandemic going on, and didn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way. You still had your mask on, so Harry had taken that as you were very conscious about the virus - which he admired.

You pulled out your glasses, from the depths of one of the coat pockets, and placed them on your face, probably making yourself look even geekier than you already felt. Today was just one of those days you wished you had good eyes...

You opened your spent notebook, musty pages practically falling apart, and turned to the section of questions you needed for that interview. You were so nervous already and you hadn't even asked anything yet, all because of the previous interactions with Harry today. Your shaky hands shuffled through the pages and you cursed under your breath when you struggled to find what you needed.

"Shoot. Come on." You mumbled quietly under your breath, hoping it would make this terrible situation end faster. You mustn't have been as quiet as you thought though.

"Y/N." Harry's name broke through your clouded mind of self-disappointment.

You looked up at him to see him softly smiling at you, blowing all worries away from you away with the wind. "Yes?" You timidly asked, pushing your wind-swept hair out of glasses - where it'd gotten caught.

"You’re alright, love. You don't have to be professional around me, alright? We're just two strangers having a conversation, to get to know each other, okay?" If his words didn't calm you enough, the soothing sound of his husky voice certainly did.

"But that would mean you asking me stuff too?" You replied, confused at his implications of the phrasing 'getting to know each other'.

"Mhm." Harry nodded his head.

"Oh I don't know Mr Styles, i'm not a very interesting person." You answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose from where they'd fallen.

"I refuse to believe that." Harry chuckled, making a quick smile appear on your face. "And please call me Harry. Just Harry." He begged, obviously finding it weird you calling him by his professional title. All you wanted, ever, was for your interviewee's to feel comfortable and safe, so if Harry wanted you to call him Harry then so be it.

"Ok, Harry," you sarcastically said, earning a shake of the head on his behalf, "you can ask me a few questions throughout the day." You told him, but you knew he'd struggle to find even two questions when he realises how bland you are.

"Does that mean you only get to ask me a few as well?" Harry smirked, already knowing the answer to that question. Unlike Harry, you had to write an article about today when you got home and so he knew that you'd have to dig as much dirt as possible from him.

"No, sorry. I don't particularly want to lose my job." You paused to look down at your notes, squinting a little as you did to see better. "Okay. Tell me your experience with corona virus."

"Sorry I didn't quite catch that, love." Harry apologised, leaning in slightly to see if he could hear you a second time around.

"Sorry." You looked down to fiddle with your fingers - a habit you'd undertaken when you're embarrassed. "Um..," you cleared your throat, "would you mind if I took off my mask?"

Your timid voice sent tingle down Harrys spine. He didn't think anyone could ever be this sweet. "Not at all, ‘course you can." He replied, again, wanting to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

You hesitantly took off your face mask, feeling like you were in some dramatic movie where they face revealed someone. You kind of liked having the mask on, because, for one, it kept you warm, and for two, you were a little self conscious with how you looked compared to all the other women here today. You shoved the mask in your pocket, with trembling fingers, before looking back down to your notes.

"Woah." You heard Harrys voice being mumbled under the wind. You eyes shot up to his and you noticed him staring right back at you.

"W-what? Is my acne playing up? I knew I should've—" You self-consciously run your hands over the areas you know you got acne. The masks really didn't help when it came to skin care.

"Hey, stop. No. You just... You look beautiful." Harry complimented you, and a roaring blush arose on to your cheeks. You'd never been called beautiful before, and so you were taking the compliment like such a 13-year old.

"Oh, uh, thank you." You awkwardly answered, not really having any other words come to mind in that moment. Harry chuckled under his breath, still keeping eyes on you for some reason.

"Would you mind repeating your last question, I didn't quite catch it?" Harry asked politely.

"Sure. Um, tell me how you've experienced corona virus." You repeated for him, gripping ahold of your pen to start copying what he says and pressing start on your recording device in case you needed it later.

"Well, it's been tedious that's for sure. However, I just want people to be safe and for life to return back to normal, so therefore i've been very MIA for a lot of the time. Keeping to myself mostly. I only went out for hikes or bike rides. All my meetings were online, so it's been very lonely." Harry kept eye contact with your figure the entire time, and if it weren't for you concentrating on writing what he was saying then you'd probably melt away under his gaze.

For such soft eyes he sure was intimidating.

"I presume the loneliness sent you crazy at times." You laughed, because you sure felt that way through lockdown. Curse being single.

"You have no idea." Harry laughed along with you, making you, slowly, feel more at ease.

"Actually, you'd be surprised." You looked at him unsure, before returning down to your notebook.

"Okay then, first question from me," Harrys words made your head shoot up, "How can someone as amazing as yourself be lonely?" He asked and you made a mental tally of how many questions he'd asked.

"Could ask you the very same question, Harry." You slyly replied, avoiding the question by answering with another question. It was a tactic you'd learnt, throughout your years of journalism, when you wanted to dismiss something .

"That's cheating." Harry pointed at you and raised his eyebrows, but you couldn't take your eyes off the big, cheeky, smile perched on his face. You shrugged you're shoulders in defence and returned to your questions. "But you did just call me amazing, so I think i'll let it slide this one time." You blushed, again, when you understood what he meant.

He was amazing though - that was the truth.

"You were in L.A. for the majority of quarantine, am I right to say?" You already knew the answer but your manager had just wanted confirmation.

"Yeah, but L.A. feels like holiday, whereas London feels like home." He answered, which you appreciated. He hasn't got lost in the way that Hollywood could let people. He'd stayed grounded.

"So what did you entertain yourself with during quarantine?" You asked curiously, slightly side-tracking from your pre-written questions - just because you were intrigued (nosey).

"Not much, not to be boring. I ate a lot of bread. I worked out pretty much every day. I wrote quite a bit actually." He used his fingers to pinch his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did in interviews.

"Does that mean a new album on the way?" Your inner fangirl was screaming at the thought of HS3.

"Can neither confirm nor deny." Harry smirked to himself, like the cheeky bugger he is.

"That's a yes then." You joked, pretending to write it down in your notes.

"You're impossible, you." Harry laughed and shook his head. It made you feel all funny the way you could make him smile like that. You were the source of his happiness for just that moment, and that was enough to make you feel happy for a lifetime - not that he felt the same.

"Next question," you stated, moving swiftly on because you knew you had limited time, "How's your experience with Vogue been so far?"

"Wonderful. Everyone has been so welcoming and that makes it so much easier for me to have fun. It's daunting going at things alone, but i'm getting slowly used to it now." Harry sniffled a little, probably due to the freezing cold weather here.

"Must be strange, not having four best friends around you, all the time, anymore." You stated rather than asked him, sure that he was missing his bandmates. I mean, you were - so he definitely would be.

"Brothers." Harry replied, making you look up at him confused.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, giving him your full attention.

"You said four best friends. Well, actually they're my brothers." His words actually caused a rift in your heart. You could feel it being pulled apart and torn in to two. If you wrote this in to the magazine the fans would have a worldwide passing-away-party.

"Harry." You said softly, slightly tearing up at his words. "God, I swear i'm not normally this emotional." You chest your throat and try to establish your dignity - however there wasn't that much left anymore.

"Oh shut up." Harry looked away obviously trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up too. You laughed at him but didn't draw any more attention to it than you guessed he would've wanted.

"They mean a lot to you then?" You asked, hopefully not treading on any unwanted territories.

"Much more than a lot, yeah." Harry nodded his head, turning it back to face you. He could tell this conversation was now off-the-record because of your closed notebook, your undivided attention towards him and the fact you’d turned off the recording device. He liked being able to look at you, rather than the top of your head. He swore you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"You still see them often?"

"Not as often as i'd like. Niall did come around the other week to drop off some old guitars he didn't want anymore, and then we ended up playing around with some music for a bit." He admitted, which stitched your heart back together.

"So does that mean a Narry collab?" You teased, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.

"Narry? You so are a directioner." He laughed along with you.

"And you just avoided my question, therefore there is a song out there written only by you and Niall." You concluded, which shut him up.

This conversation was going a lot better than expected. Certainly a lot better than earlier. You will be permanently scarred by the way you spoke to him and handled his belongings. It was going to haunt you forever - and yet he'd forget about it by tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn't, which is why you felt the need to apologise.

"Harry?" You asked, clearly indicating this was still a conversation away from the interview.

"Yes Y/N?" He watched you intently, listening to your every word.

"I, um, just wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just really nervous to meet you, and to be honest still am. I didn't mean to touch your stuff without your consent and I certainly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with any of my comments. So, i'm sorry. I can only imagine the awful, yet true, things you must think of me." You rambled really quickly, that you were uncertain whether Harry even caught one word of what you'd says.

"Do you know why I asked for you to interview me Y/N?" Harry asked, which wasn't the first thing you expected him to say after your apology.

"No. I...well Lisa told me it was because I can write well or something." You suggested, not wanting to sound egotistical.

"I mean you do write perfectly, but no." You were intrigued now. "I asked for you because I, and this is not for your magazine, have a secret - but not-so-secret - crush on you." This time it was Harrys turn to blush.

"Harry... you don't have to say that to—"

"I'm not saying it for anything. I sincerely think you are the most delightful, most prettiest, most fucking sweetest person i've ever met." Harry exclaimed, which you were taken aback by. Never, ever, did you think that Harry Styles would proclaim his likeness towards you. Ever.

"Harry don't mess with me, please." You shyly spoke, tilting your head down in disbelief that the Harry Styles was smitten about you.

He shuffled along the bench, stopping a little way from you but close enough to reach out for you. Your heartbeat increased when you noticed his hand move closer towards you. It didn't stop till he reached your face. He took his time, courteously, pushing your hair behind your ear before removing you of your glasses. He held the right-eye frame and slowly pulled the glasses off your face.

Once he'd successfully taken them off he folded them up and placed them alongside your closed notebook.

"Can see those pretty eyes now." He whispered quietly, but loud enough for you to hear.

"Don't lie. They're so dull." You mumbled, lifting your head up slightly. His face was still away from you.

"Not to me they're not." He retaliated, looking deep into your eyes as you did his. "I hate this corona virus."

"Why?" His words were so out of the blue sometimes, it gave you whiplash.

"Because I can't be as near to you as I want to be." Harry told you. And yeah, you hated corona too. It was getting a little laborious now.

"Smooth, Styles." You chuckled. You wondered how many new and weird pick-up lines could be made from covid.

"I know." He winked, which honestly would have made you throw up if it were any other man on the planet. Somehow, though, Harry just made it seem attractive - along with every other thing that man ever did. "After this, would you like to come back to my house for a cuppa tea?" He asked sweetly, like a five year old asking whether you wanted to play together.

"Okay. Lisa was my ride though." You said more to yourself than anything else, debating on how you'd even get to Harrys. Uber? Taxi? Lisa? Walk?

"I'll drive us, it's fine. I have to drop Gem off, but i'd be more than happy to chauffeur you." Harry kindly offered, to which you were internally screaming about. You were literally, and metaphorically, having a field-day with all this Harry content and interview.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden." You question politely, not wanting to overstep any boundaries - especially in these covid infested times.

"Of course. I wouldn't have offered otherwise." He protested, waving his hand at if to say it was no bother. You were already trying to work out, in your head, how much petrol money you were going to owe him.

"Then i'd be honoured to have a brew with you Harry." You giggled at how cringe you were being, even if this was just your normal self speaking.

"Great." Harry genuinely smiled, teeth and all. "My shoot should take a couple of hours, but feel free to continue to write and journal. I'm looking forward to reading this particular article." He winked at you before standing up.

"Wonder why?" You sarcastically asked, knowing full-well it was due to his exposure of his own feelings towards you. Even though you'd never says anything back you were quite in agreement on how you felt about him, like he did you. He would be a narcissist to say he knew you liked him the same, out loud, but he knew. And you knew that he knew.

"Wonder why indeed." He gave you one last smile before he'd disappeared for the rest of the afternoon, leaving you to digest and relive the past half an hour or so.

Being Harry Styles' crush was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

••••

After Harry had finished up his shoot he was quick to come find you again.

You'd watched parts of his shoot and he looked magnificent. There wasn't a good enough word to describe how amazing he looked. Harry, his stylist, was probably the best stylist out there. His fashion choices were unmatched and you wanted him to be yours. You were not rich enough nor fashionable enough, ironic for working in a a fashion company, to hire a stylist, but you would if you could.

You were so proud to see what he was achieving now as the person that he was. Harry was just being Harry, without the devilish control of shitty managements or ridiculous amounts of PR stunts. Harry was more free than ever, and it definitely showed just how much he was enjoying it.

You were certain that this Vogue magazine would break the internet - his fans were good at doing that. This could be a turning point for many people, with their outdated and ignorant views. There was no room for people with racist or homophobic or transphobic or xenophobic - and the list does go on - views anymore.

You were waiting by the front door of the barn, to catch Harry as he walked past. You caught sight of him in a white robe, presumably to get changed back into his everyday clothes. He looked really pretty in the robe - very domestic actually.

Today had been a good day.

Harry asked you to send over the more specific Vogue questions to him via email, so he could devote more time in to answering them in a lot more depth. You thought he meant you'd be sending them to some PA in his team, but you were shocked to understand he'd given you his personal email.

People were walking back to their cars and packing away the filming kit. You saw Lisa and the director talking to one another, no doubt discussing some in-work gossip.

"You ready?" Harrys voice reminded you that you'd been waiting for him. You looked to see he was back in the same clothes as this morning, only this time without his coat.

"Here?" You offered, having him over the coat once again but he declined.

"Looks better on you anyways." He winked at you, before walking through the car park and to his car. You were very surprised when you found out Harry was the one to own the green Jaguar. You assumed all celebrities drove the Range Rover, but no. The vintage car added to Harrys immaculate vibe and just made him that little bit more hot.

Harry properly introduced you to Gemma, who was equally as lovely as Harry. They were both amazing people and they were crazily alike. From the way they looked, down to the way they phrased their words, they were mistakingly twins. Gemma explained how Anne, their mum, didn't know they were doing this photoshoot and that it was going to be a surprise, which you thought was so cute.

Gemma spilt a lot of gossip on Harry, to which he got very embarrassed over. You learnt that Harrys first word was Cat. You learnt that Harry is godfather to multiple children, which you found heartwarming. You learnt Harry used to be a baker - which was something he elaborated on for a good half an hour. Harry was just a fountain of memories and Gemma was the one sharing them all with you.

The drive back to London was relaxed. You sat in the back, listening to Harry and Gemma pointlessly argue whilst an Arctic Monkeys album played in the background. You forgot that people like Harry drove, and listened to music, just like other regular people. You often misplaced celebrities in society, thinking they had everything done for them but in reality that (often) wasn't the case - at least not for Harry.

Gemma was dropped off quickly before Harry drove to his. It was no surprise that the Styles siblings didn't live too far away from each other. Harrys house was beautiful. Bigger than anything you could ever dream of buying. It was a palace compared to your cupboard-sized house. You were unbelievably jealous. He gave you the tour of the house, showing you where the toilets were, and even his panic room if necessary.

You migrated to the kitchen for a bit, talking about anything and everything. Getting to know the minuscule pieces of information that no-one else was trusted with, made you feel special. Harry made you feel special - even if he weren't meaning to.

Every moment held a spark. Every touch set off a firework. Every laugh was an electric burst. He made you feel so alive.

"We can go to the living room after this has boiled." Harry said, pointing towards the streaming kettle. He wanted to show off his fancy tea collection he had, and let you have a try if you wanted to. Harry was boring and chose the basic green tea, but, after much deliberation, you chose the cranberry green tea. It intrigued you and it sounded delicious.

"Why the extensive tea collection?" Not even you, a certified caffeine addict, had this much tea in your house. Coffee was a different story and one in which you didn't want to talk about.

"They help me with my meditation." He took the teabags and placed them in his glass mugs. They had a delicate Gucci stamp on them, and you just imagined that they probably worth the same amount as your daily salary.

"You meditate?" You were slightly surprised that he did.

"I try to yeah." Harry nodded, focusing on pouring in the boiling water into the mugs. "I've got very tight hamstrings and so it helps if I meditate twice a day."

Harry finished making the tea, in the light-filled kitchen, before showing you around to the open-lounge area. Everything was modern and chic. It was exactly how you imagined it, but better. The open, red-brick, wall was a beautiful feature and one that you were a whore for! It reminded you of New York and the memories you'd made there one summer.

The sofa was a beautiful velvet, green, sofa. It was soft and gentle, a lot like Harry when you thought about it. The whole house was an architectural masterpiece and you'd be lying if you said you weren't jealous. You sat on one end and Harry went to go and sit on the other end.

"I don't bite you know?" You joked, self-consciously wondering whether he didn't want to be sat near you.

"I know, I just don't want to step on any of your covid boundaries - which is perfectly fine by the way." He added, apprehensively taking the spot next to you.

"No, not at all." You ushered him to sit next to you, as you took a sip from your steaming hot cup of fruity tea. "If I smell though, do tell me!"

"Yeah, you smell bloody awful!" Harry sarcastically remarked, but laughing afterwards to assure you he was joking. The atmosphere went quiet for a minute, only the sounds of passing cars and deep breaths being heard.

"Y/N can I ask you something?" Harry turned the tone of the conversation. It sounded like he wanted to be more serious than you two were being beforehand.

"Anything." You encouraged him to continue. You placed the cup of tea down on the table, deciding it was too hot to drink right now, and gave him your full attention.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Harry questioned. You didn't think you'd be having a conversation this intense - especially if you had different opinions - on your first day of knowing each other, but here you were.

"I believe you can love someone at first sight. I don't believe you can be in love with someone at first sight. Why?" You were curious as to how his brain had journeyed to this particular topic. You'd never really had this conversation with anyone before, mainly because you were unaware of the true power, and meaning, of love.

"It uh... It doesn't matter." Harry shook his head and you could tell by his body language that he was shutting you out. Maybe you'd made him uncomfortable.

"Sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. Please don't apologise. It's just - I like you a lot more than you may think." Harry shyly told you, which made you all soft inside. He was being vulnerable and that was something you admired in a partner. You didn't just need love, affection and trust in a relationship. No. You needed vulnerability and heartbreak too, and Harry was revealing that part of him to you.

"I like you a lot more than you think too." You repeated, not because you felt bad for him but because you truly did like him a whole lot. Love was a weird yet wonderful thing, and if you were to hazard a guess you'd say you loved Harry.

You couldn't wait to be in love with him.

"Does that mean I get to crown you my girlfriend?" Harry excitedly asked. Harry happy was something that should be made a constant, and you were more than happy to be in control of that.

"At least take me out first." You bargained, wishing for nothing more than to go on a date with Harry. Where you'd go, you had no idea. Everything was closed right now and there was still the chance of becoming sick with corona, but no doubt Harry would think of something not only clever, but special.

Of course you'd love to be Harrys girlfriend. However, you wanted one more, official, opportunity to really get to know him - unprofessionally. You wanted to make sure that you knew, and he knew, that you wanted to be with him because he was the charming Harry you've come to love, not because he was Harry Styles.

"So you're allowing me to take you on a date?" Harry smirked like a little child, your heart fluttering at how excited he was to be able to treat you to dinner.

"Yes, Harry. Yes I am." You answered sweetly, offering him the cutest smile you could.

You can't believe what a turn of events today has been. You've gone from nearly writing yourself on Harrys enemy list to writing yourself on to his 'people he's dated' list. Who knows what the future would offer you. At the start of the day you had wished this whole day to end and for the ground to just swallow you up, now you never wanted it to end. It was too perfect to be true and yet it was.

Harry was the most wonderful human to exist and you were beyond surprised to be the one to catch his attention. You didn't understand why you were so special, but it was nice to feel like this for a change. It was nice to feel wanted.

••••

A few months later and you were officially Harrys girlfriend.

It had been such a crazy few months. Harry religiously took you out on dates every week. Whether it be to grab a hotdog at a local diner, a coffee from a quaint cafe, a walk in Hyde Park or a late-night drive around London - which normally ended up with you falling asleep before you could make it back to yours. On sleepless jet-lagged nights he'll still drive through London's quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way, just as an excuse to spend time with you.

Harry often stayed over at yours. Even though you looked like you lived in a shoebox compared to Harry, he liked it. He liked the subtly and normality of it all. He wanted your life to remain as normal as possible and, apart from the occasional paparazzi incident, it did. You never had anything to complain about. Of course the online bullying created emotional wounds, at the start of your relationship, but it was nothing that Harry couldn't repair with a bit of love.

Lisa has nominated herself to be maid-of-honour when the day comes - if the day comes. Harry has already pinky sworn that you are it for him. The one, as some may say. You were utterly flattered, but you certainly unsure of what the future help for you both.

You loved Harry, you do love Harry and you will forever always love Harry.

It was ridiculous to think that all this stemmed from you working at Vogue. From you studying English Literature in a city away from London. From you dedicating you extra hours gaining work experience and money to be able get in and afford university. So many moments in life have you stopped and said 'i wish i hadn't have done that', but now you were convinced that they were the best things to have happened to you - because they lead you, all, to Harry.

And, being Harry Styles girlfriend was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

897 notes · View notes

herrlindemann · 3 years ago

Photo

METAL HAMMER - November 2005

This one was a long translation work but it was worth every minute of my time. It’s probably one of the most interesting and in-depth interview in a while!

Notes : Till mentions the Rammstein-TÜV, which in Germany stand for “Technischer Überwachungsverein” or “Technical Inspection Association” in English.

He also talks about the “broiler photo” : In general, it's mostly people from East Germany who know what the "photo broiler" means when we mention the cover art of their debut album, Herzeleid. Broiler was the trademark for a particular type of grilled chickens force-fed from birth that nobody wanted in West Germany. Thanks to a Bulgarian operating license, this chicken was very successful in the East. People often referred to it as "Golden Broiler". (Hard Rock N°38).

Paris in September. The sun breaks through the clouds and warms the busy heart of the French capital. Rammstein chose a place of culture and joie de vivre for the presentation of the ROSENROT album. Almost 200 meters as the crow flies separate the Eiffel Tower from the ship on which Rammstein will be answering questions from the world press who have traveled to the event in the open air and in a relaxed atmosphere. While Till Lindemann, Paul Landers, Christoph Schneider and Oliver Riedel put on a three-day interview marathon, Richard Z. Kruspe and Flake Lorenz are not on board. The latter for struggling with mumps, a childhood disease that is not to be taken lightly when it occurs in adults. As a result, Rammstein had to put all live events planned for 2005 on hold for the time being.

But no reason for Till Lindemann to be sad. The 42-year-old is in a good mood today. The shirt that says 'stubborn', which he wears with blue jeans and black sneakers, says nothing about his basic attitude. "I'm only wearing it because my girlfriend gave it to me," he reveals with a grin. Then he offers drinks and a place on the comfortable leather armchair, while he makes do with the wooden folding chair. Quite the gentleman who appreciates hospitality and courtesy.

He starts the conversation just as politely by asking about his counterpart's three favorite ROSENROT songs. Lindemann creates namely journalist charts. After choosing 'Te Quiero Puta', 'Spring' and 'Ein Lied' his face lights up. “Flawless!”, he rejoices, “today is 'Ein Lied' day. The interviewers who were there yesterday didn't even choose it, today it happened for the fourth time.” Before the singer begins to feel all too comfortable in the role of the questioner, METAL HAMMER turns the tables and listens to the Rammstein singer. In one of his rare interviews, which he gave to the press in the course of the ROSENROT release, Till Lindemann reveals many secrets: the background to the album, his approach to the lyrics and his leisure plans for the upcoming band break.

Till, in previous interviews you always emphasized that there are two Till: the private Till and the Rammstein Till. You seem pretty laid back for being the Rammstein-Till right now...

I am relaxed! We're on hiatus for half a year now, ROSENROT will be released soon, we've just shot a video...I'm already wearing slippers! I'm fine at the moment.

So to speak, the rest after work. REISE, REISE is just over a year old when you release your next album, ROSENROT. Unusual for Rammstein, because you've never worked so fast before.

Yes, that's right. But I wouldn't do that again. That was pretty bad at the end, quite annoying. We had more than two months, almost three actually, but there wasn't a minute to think, everything was on and off. We practically went to bed with the songs, dreamed about them. All in all, a tiring story. But we didn't want to go on hiatus without releasing an album. Because after that we want to record a new record, and that means that we have to do a pre-production and so on. It's been a while. So we wanted to put a bouquet of roses in front of the woman's door before we left.

This bouquet should initially be named REISE, REISE VOL. 2. Why the change of heart?

REISE, REISE VOL. 2 would simply have been too banal. Although in two years nobody will be interested in such things anyway. That's set then, and that's it.

With ROSENROT you chose a title that differs from REISE, REISE — and makes it clear that the record is not an infusion of REISE, REISSE ideas. Nevertheless, many fans may fear that the new record is a collection of B-sides or discarded material. What do you say to them?

I say to them: Listen to the album first! ROSENROT is not scrap material, under no circumstances. Despite this short period of time, the record was put together with a lot of love. Also, it took us the same amount of time to record all of our albums: three to four weeks. Because the formula applies: To record a song, you need one to a maximum of three days. This time only the precursors were shorter. In the past, this has dragged on for us for up to half a year. Not this time. We concentrated and sometimes worked on the ideas for seven or eight hours a day in the rehearsal room. Everyone knew: We have to go to the studio on May 1st! It was like in fast motion and wasn't always nice, but it still worked in the end.

Now it's finally working out with the release of the piece 'Rosenrot', which was created in the course of the last few sessions. Why do you think the song didn't fit on REISE, REISE?

It's simple: Because it's clearly a single. And there was simply no more room for that on REISE, REISE. It would have been a shame if we had squeezed the track in. A song with this potential needs a certain setting, a well-chosen spot on the wall, to be effective. And we can't hang it until this wall is up.

Did you choose the track as the title song because of its strength?

We fight every time when it comes to album details. Which single should be released, what could the artwork look like, who is making the video, what will the record be called? The six of us sit together like idiots, talk our heads off - and come to no conclusion. Then each of us asks friends, acquaintances, record company employees. It often goes so far that we are so stuck that we can only say: Okay, someone else has to decide now. Emu, our manager, for example. We couldn't come to an agreement on ROSENROT either. In the end I'm still satisfied: The title ROSENROT and the tanker that can be seen on the cover are in stark contrast to each other. But the whole thing still has a very cool aesthetic. If someone has some imagination, he can imagine a lot about it.

Whereby the tanker — just like 'Rosenrot' — is not a new idea either, but rather adorns the Japanese edition of REISE, REISE...

It's correct. That's why we were hesitant to use it at first, because of course the fans know it's an old image. But even then, when we held the Japanese version of REISE, REISE in our hands for the first time, we immediately said: amazing, we'll use that for our next album cover! That would have been pearls before swine if only it had ended up on the Japan edition.

Your decision to use the “old” cover also shows something special about Rammstein: you manage to recharge even things that already have an image, to give them a different meaning.

We just experiment, and none of us know in advance if it will work. Other bands don't do it any differently. Metallica did a clever job with LOAD and RELOAD, that was a brilliant story. But that doesn't happen every day. We tried all kinds of puns for the title of the record. REISE, WEITER, REISE for example. That would have been good graphically too. But in the end the title ROSENROT suits our style best: We like to take a track from the album that then stands for the record. Like 'Herzeleid' and 'Sehnsucht’ back then. This is a tradition with us.

It is also a tradition that a red thread always winds its way through the work of Rammstein? Is that different with ROSENROT for the first time?

No, at least not structurally. When the first mixes come out and a first order of the tracks is set, I sit down and compare the new material with the earlier albums. There's always a provocative, controversial song. 'Mein Teil’ on REISE, REISE, 'Mann Gegen Mann’ on ROSENROT. Then every album has a hit: 'Te Quiero Puta' has a similar flair to 'Sehnsucht'. There is also always a ballad: in the case of ROSENROT it means 'Stirb nich vor mir', on REISE, REISE it was ‘Ohne Dich’. 'Rosenrot' is like 'Amerika' to me - same beat, something to dance to, something to nibble on. We try to keep this structure of the different songs with every album.

Speaking of the songs, we need to talk about 'Te Quiero Puta' — the "banger" as you call it. Was the track created in the scorching heat of the desert dust?

No, in Berlin (laughs loudly). The piece is funny, but also has a serious background: the gringos come riding into the brothel, with a party and an alarm. But our hero has fallen in love with the whore, although of course he doesn't want to admit it to himself: "Nicht mit dem Herzen, nur die ‘Limone’," says the text. But nonetheless he states: "I love you, whore!”

The song would make a great single, but not now in the winter, until summertime.

That's right. And the song definitely needs a good video. However, we have to be a little careful here. Again, this calls for something funny, and we don't want to drift into comedy. Although: The fans will forgive us if we don't appear mega gloomy, but also a bit more relaxed.

In addition to this offensive piece, there is another impressive song on ROSENROT: 'Ein Lied'. The piece is dedicated to the fans and you reflect on your situation as a musician. How did you get into it?

It doesn't matter what is written or said about us: The fans can be sure that we appreciate them - and we are showing that with the last song of ROSENROT. But we don't want to smear and curry favor. We used to ask ourselves a lot if we shouldn't say something to people on stage, because it might seem arrogant if we're silent. Now we don't think about it anymore. Even if we don't speak or just let out a few words every now and then, I imagine that when we play live, people still feel our connection to them. We're definitely getting incredible feedback from below, and I think the same goes the other way around.

What influence does this connection with the fans have on your lyrics?

None. I am very honored and proud that my poetry is well received. But everything else never affected me. However, I've had people say to me, "Hey, there's an S&M club around the corner, let’s go.” I only use stylistic devices — on record and of course on stage too. No one stands on the balcony all the time just because they've read Romeo & Juliet.

Are you annoyed that people read your texts, interpret them and thus get closer to Till Lindemann as a person?

Usually that doesn't happen at all. The fans interpret the pieces very differently than I do, and that's a good thing. I don't like talking about the lyrics and trying to give them a certain direction. Pre-chewed food doesn't taste good. So everyone should think about it for themselves.

Thinking about it is also one of your main tasks when it comes to pre-production and you have to decide which lyrics go with which song. How long does it take you to find the right text for a piece?

That all depends. Sometimes it takes five minutes, sometimes three years. What helps is the "Band-TÜV". I bring my text ideas with me, play them to the others, and they give their opinion on them and make suggestions for other words constellations themselves. There are songs for which I have submitted 40 different drafts. The other band members are extreme critics, sometimes even so harsh that it really pisses me off. But when I come back, objections are mostly justified. Because I simply wrote too much, for example. But sometimes I want to tell a story, like with 'Spring'. Then the others arrive and say: "Till, that was too much. We removed a verse.” And I'm completely floored: “What? You removed a verse?” Then I have to try to fit the information from the four lines that were thrown out into the remaining verses. That screw up everything else. Months of work thrown down the toilets. Sometimes it really disturb me. It’s certainly no walk in the park.

Do you have to have experienced the situations and emotions you describe to be able to put them into words?

It's the best thing that can happen — at least for the song, not for me personally of course (laughs). Something bad happened to me during the pre-production of ROSENROT, and during this time I wrote all the quiet stuff.

For example, one of these songs is 'Feuer und Wasser'. Did you incorporate memories from your youth into this piece, after all you work with a lot of swimming metaphors in it?

Partly. The song contains autobiographical elements from my youth, but also elements of recent events.

Do you write down such incidents and spontaneous ideas immediately?

Yes. I have a folder in which I collect all the words, battle cries, etc. that I have come across in my life. When I'm looking for a phrase, I flip through the folder and sometimes I can come up with something that fits.

A Rammstein Dictionary so to speak?

Dictionary is the wrong word. More of a form, like the questions in the driving school test.

This “form” was very helpful to you for ROSENROT. You turn out to be a master of metaphors once again, for example when you stage lines like “Tiefe Wasser sind nicht still”. You give words and phrases a different meaning by giving them a new twist. How do you manage not to repeat yourself?

No idea. It just comes out of me. However, I have to admit that the entire chorus of 'Rosenrot' came from the "Form" - and fortunately it fit the song perfectly. It's one of those coincidences I thank heaven for. But nevertheless it was not an easy birth: This text also had to pass the Rammstein TÜV.

Do you read a lot to increase your vocabulary?

Unfortunately I read too little. I'm trying to read more again. I don't have much time and unfortunately I watch too much TV. When I come home, I just like to lie on the couch, call the pizza man and just lounge around. That’s how a whole weekend can be wasted.

Surely you don't want to claim that you don't promote your creativity, but that everything is pure talent?

Well, actually, I really don't do much for it. From time to time I drink a little wine and then write things down (laughs). No, seriously: I almost always have a piece of paper and a pen with me. And these two utensils are usually next to my bed. I sometimes have interesting dreams, crazy things and I write them down as soon as I wake up. They only last a minute or two, and then I forget them again.

What you won't soon forget are the tours with Rammstein, which have already taken you all over the world. Did traveling with the band broaden your horizons and give you new ideas?

Yes. In the sense that I have a greater wealth of experience to draw from. But I'm not permanently in a writing mode where I work intensively on texts. I do that mainly during the pre-production phase for an album. Then all my senses are heightened.

A ship sails past with "Europe" written on it. Lindemann points to it and continues the story.

This ship there is called “Europe”. Europe. That's a nice word, sounds good, but it's corny. But suddenly the idea comes to me: “Wait, there’s more to it. That's also the name of Zeus' lover.” And already the story has a different direction, a subliminal second meaning. But I only pay attention to that during the pre-production phase — otherwise I only occasionally use my free time to write poetry: on a plane or during a long car ride when I'm a passenger. It doesn't work so well with lyrics because I always need the music as a basis for my work.

Could you also write lyrics to other music?

Yes, of course.

Which style would you like the most?

Cryptic stuff. Synth pop, totally overloaded with keyboards. Music that carries you, sounds like space and is melodic at the same time. And heartache, even a bit of sadness must be at the start.

Is that also the music that interests you privately?

That depends on my mood. Right now I like Manu Chao. He made a record last year, SIBERIE M'ETAIT CONTEE, which came out as a limited edition — with a book that almost looks like a children's book. A great album. I also listen to a lot of Spanish music, but also hard music. I recently rediscovered Ministry.

The different tastes within the band also help to find a new image for each album. You have undergone an interesting transformation. For HERZELEID you were the oiled machos...

Ah, the broiler photo! Back then we were all 100% convinced of the cover, today we could bite our ass for it. This is the worst cover we can imagine today. So unaesthetic. But whatever. You shouldn't condemn it afterwards either, it was just a different time. Back then we also wore trousers with flares at the bottom. Times change…

Sounds a bit wistful. Are you missing something?

No. I am a lucky man. All is well. After all, what counts is the result. If that's true then everything else is fine and there's no reason to complain.

Do you still feel the same as you did ten years ago, for example?

No, it's different, especially when it comes to songwriting. Let me put it this way: I used to go into the forest, took down a tree and drag it home with force. Today I'm standing with a precision engineering milling machine, where I'm filing a board with a lot of high-tech. It has become a huge difference. Today we know what we are doing. And we've achieved a level of professionalism — something that wasn't there before. In the past we only approached things with our hearts, today the whole thing is much more top-heavy. That's where experience and routine comes through. Whether that's a good thing is another matter...

Would you say that your creativity suffers from this routine?

No, not at all. Back then I said on purpose: I want to make music so I don't have to go to work. And now it has become work after all. We’re in a painting company: We come in the morning, are given a task, and then we just start painting. Making music is real, routine work.

Does this routine work mean that you have to make more compromises than before?

On the contrary, we're doing a lot less now. We used to always squeeze ourselves into a corset. Just don't use "nice" words, nothing too positive, no happy ending in the song. Today we worry a lot less about such things, and that's a good thing.

Do you think that this uncompromising approach is particularly appealing to the fans?

A Rammstein record is like a colorful cauldron - there is something for everyone. For me personally, it's less about the whole thing and more about the songs themselves. Every song has a special mood. Also, I always associate something personal with a track. For example, when I think of 'Amerika', I think of being in the rehearsal room with Paul, we were standing at the mixing desk and trying to find a suitable chorus. Then we came up with the English lines, which fit perfectly in terms of rhythm. We then recorded the whole thing and presented it to the others, although we had reservations: Won't they smack the English chorus in our ears? Some thought it was great, others thought it sucked. But in the end the chorus stuck and 'Amerika' turned out to be a great song.

The Rammstein TÜV, the tedious back and forth with songwriting - you won't have all that in the next few months. Now it's time for a break. For the fans this means: There won't be a new Rammstein album before 2007, right?

Let me do the math... No, probably not, after all there is a longer pre-production phase before the recording. But the fans will surely forgive us after ten years if we relax for half a year. Last time I had a month and a half off was after the MUTTER tour, that was the longest break. But even then it wasn't a real recovery. Now we have planned not to see each other for three, four, five months. But honestly, none of us can stand it any longer anyway. After a few weeks we start jotting down ideas at home anyway and muddle around. What is missing is the routine, i.e. getting up, drinking coffee, going to the rehearsal room, driving home again.

What will you do with your free time?

I'm traveling through South America. To write more pieces like 'Te Quiero Puta' (laughs).

Finally, coming back to the songs: Now you have to reveal which of your three favorite tracks on ROSENROT are!

'Te Quiero Puta', 'Stirb nicht vor mir' and then I couldn't decide for a while. I think ‘Benzin’. Or 'Rosenrot’. The two songs have about the same status.

#Rammstein #Till Lindemann #Paul Landers #Flake Lorenz #Oliver Riedel #Christoph Schneider #Richard Kruspe #interview #translation #2005 #*#love the little Paul anecdote #*scans

111 notes · View notes

uglymanchronicles · 3 years ago

Text

Ugly Man Chronicles Reignition Book 2 Chapter 2: My Breakfast With Evan

Just a couple dudes getting to know each other.

“If you must know,” Evan sighed, spearing a glistening sausage on the end of a flimsy plastic fork, “my jackass older sister thought it would be hilarious to give me a cupcake she'd baked with about a dozen powdered viagra for my fifteenth birthday. I wound up passing out eventually. Burst a lot of blood vessels. Damaged the erectile tissue beyond usefulness.”

Titus froze mid-coffee-sip. “Seriously? What a bitch!”

“Buddy, you don't know the half of it.”

“So... no signs of life down there?”

“Nothing for twelve years.”

“I think I would literally kill myself.”

“It's not so bad, I guess. At least I don't have to drain the blood out of it any more.”

“Eugh! Fuck! Did not need to hear that!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answer to.”

“Do you get, like, blue balls all the time, then?”

“That's basically my ground state of being.”

Titus whistled flatly, avoiding looking Evan in the eye. He settled for staring at the table. There wasn't a lot of Evan's face that he felt comfortable looking at; every part seemed to at least be adjacent to some unpleasantry or another. About the only safe area was his right eye, which, as luck would have it, was directly opposite Titus's 'good' eye. Titus rallied and met Evan's gaze again. “Alright, your turn.”

They'd agreed on a sort of mutual interview process, taking turns asking questions to suss out what the other was capable or if he was worth having around. Evan took a bite out of the sausage and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

“Who's Moreno?”

Titus hissed through his teeth. “A real piece of shit.”

“I'm going to need more than that.”

“I'm getting to it. He's basically, like... a freelance henchman? Like, sort of a mercenary criminal. Sells his services to the highest bidder.”

“And why's he matter?”

“That's another question.”

“No, it is not,” Evan said, quiet and serious. “Do not argue with me in bad faith, Titus. I have very little patience for it in the best of times.”

Titus regarded him for a long moment. The man across from him was wider than the table they sat at. His muscles were so pronounced in some points that Titus could tell when he was about to move by the way they bulged and contracted. Yet he gave the impression that he was constantly trying to pull himself inward, to make himself smaller. He spoke quietly and with a simple formality, but only hours before Titus had watched him single-handedly beat down some of the nastiest people he'd met in the past month.

Hmm.

“Fine. Moreno matters because I'm after the guy he's working for. You see, Moreno isn't just a normal scumbag. He works for people who need nasty things done. Not like regular nasty, either. How much do you actually know about magic?”

“I've got some... notes. So far I'm not able to find a lot of coherent rules. It mostly seems like it relies on things that nobody would normally do.”

Titus snapped his fingers and pointed at Evan. “Hit it right on the head. Rituals, reagents, that kind of thing... the reason—well, one of the reasons—magic doesn't just happen all the time by accident is that it's all weird little things. A lot of the more heavy magic relies on some pretty elaborate and obtuse shit to get it going.”

Evan momentarily thought back to the Book of Fate and his ritual in the woods. “So Moreno does these things for people?”

“Yeah. Thing is, though...” Titus stopped raising a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth and set it down again, as if he'd momentarily lost his appetite. “The people who use his services generally practice some pretty vile magic. Real depraved shit. And to empower depraved magic, you need depraved rituals. Moreno is the guy you go to when...”

“I think I get it,” Evan interjected, since Titus seemed to be struggling with deciding whether to continue. “Your turn.”

Titus tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, then looked Evan in the eye. “How smart are you?”

The scars on Evan's face squirmed around as he actually smirked. “What kind of question is that?”

“Hey, we agreed no 'whys'.”

“Alright, alright. Well, there's really no objective metric for it, but... I have Master's degrees in computer science and theoretical physics, Bachelor's in those in addition to mathematics and electrical engineering, and associate's degrees and certificates in everything from EMT training to ballet. I should have my doctorate in physics, but...” he said, with a bitterness that Titus made a note of, then changed gears. “Oh, and I also speak Mandarin, Spanish, Japanese, French, and Arabic pretty fluently. I also know ASL. I can get by in German and Russian, too. I don't know if any of that is what you meant but--”

“Jesus, I get it,” Titus muttered, rubbing the side of his head. “How the fuck do you make money?”

“Software consulting, mostly. I specialize in security and processing efficiency. People pay me to break into their systems and then patch the holes, or to make their code run quicker or make their programs smaller. I've got a few patents I've licensed that bring in most of my income nowadays, though.”

“Anything I would have heard of?”

“If you've used a computer made in the last four years it probably has something I wrote integrated somewhere into it. I also helped develop a protein-sequencing program that helped develop a vaccine for this nasty SARS variant that broke out in China last year. They say if they hadn’t nipped it in the bud it could’ve spread worldwide and we’d be looking at millions of deaths by now.”

Titus scrunched up his face. “Oh yeah, just say that like it’s no big deal.”

“I’m just glad it turned out not to be one. What I'd really like to do is get my compression algorithm out there, but if I do that, somebody's going to try to hoard it all for themselves.”

“Are you talking to yourself or me?”

“Look, I... a few years ago I figured out a way to compress memory down by a exponential factor of six with zero loss. All it takes is a couple software plugins that don't take up much room themselves. Essentially, I could make a gigabyte fit in a kilobyte with very little trouble, now that the math's figured out.”

“Holy fuck, that's insane! Why haven't I heard anything about this?”

“Mainly because I don't tell people. If I put it up on the market, some ISP would buy it and bury it. If you make information smaller, you make it faster. Can you imagine what it'd do to internet access if dial-up and barebones cellular networks suddenly had the bandwidth of fiber optics? It would... maybe not revolutionize our society, but it would level a lot of playing fields. Bring a lot of underdeveloped areas of the world—hell, this country—up to modern levels with no extra cost. The telecomms would crash and burn so hard. But I don't have the means to get it out there without going through someone else. Yet,” Evan added. “So I basically work watered-down versions of the compressor into the software I make. Nothing that can be duplicated, and nowhere near its full potential, but enough to get me hailed as some kind of genius and pay the bills.”

“So why aren't you on your own private island or something somewhere instead of puttering around God's Ashtray in a shitty old Bug?”

“Hey, the Beetle is not shitty,” Evan said, defensively. “And I'm just waiting for the AC in my RV to get fixed or I'd be driving that.”

“Oh hot damn! Now that's the way to live!”

“Not the one I'd choose voluntarily, but it could be worse.”

“How come you're doing it, then?”

“I think it's my turn to ask,” Evan said, mildly.

“Fine,” Titus said grumpily, crossing his arms.

“How do you make money?”

“That's easy. I'm basically a freelance bailbondsman. I just roam around, drop my advertising around bars and courthouses.”

“You get many clients that way?” Evan asked, cocking his remaining eyebrow.

“Oh, you'd be amazed how desperate people can get,” Titus said, shrugging. “Of course, they're usually not the most responsible people, so when they bounce, I track 'em down myself, drag ‘em back to jail, get the money back. My eye usually makes it super easy. Sometimes they don't even see me before I get the cuffs on 'em.”

“Why did you feel the need to rob a bunch of drug dealers, then? The thrill of it?”

“I had a pressing need for a large amount of cash that my normal work doesn't bring in. That got me enough to hold it off for a while. My turn.”

Evan waved down a waitress for a refill of his coffee, trying not to take it personally when she gasped upon seeing his face. “Go ahead…”

“No, no, hang on.” Titus waved a hand dismissively. “I want to try something. Take your hair out of the ponytail.”

“What? Why?”

“Humor me.”

Evan groaned and reached back, removing his hair tie. After shaking his head, his hair fell over his face, obscuring everything but his nose and mouth. Titus pursed his lips and regarded him seriously for a moment.

“Can you see?”

“Yeah, I guess. Well enough to not walk into things, I think, and I could probably read if I had to.”

Titus snapped his fingers. “Good. Go with that from now on.”

“Why?”

“Because now you don’t look like God’s mistake. Now you look like a big, dumb-but-lovable goon. Like Jack Black would voice you in a cartoon.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Do you like seeing people contemplating their own mortality and the general cruel absurdity of the tragic farce that is human existence when they get a glimpse of your face?”

Evan felt his cheeks burn and was actually grateful his hair was covering most of his face. “…not particularly, no.”

“Then there you go. You’re welcome. Okay, question time. Uh… how did you get your powers?”

“Which one?”

“Oh, now who’s arguing in bad faith? Fucking all of them, you thick-lipped gargoyle.”

Evan had the feeling he hit a sore spot. Titus's easy-going, jocular tone had bled away from him, leaving behind the hard-edged razor-blade of a man that had ambushed him the night before. He decided not to belabor the point.

“I don't know why I can rege—why I heal so quickly. No, I'm serious, as far as I know, it just started happening sometime in the past few months. I can't remember. Don't look at me like that, I'll get to that in a minute. When I was younger I recovered from a lot of injuries a lot quicker than the doctors thought I would, so maybe it's something I was born with and it just got stronger recently for some reason.”

Evan took a sip of coffee, mainly to buy a few seconds to think of how much to explain for the next part.

“The ability to shut off powers... that's part of, well, I guess you'd call it a magic ritual, because I don't know what else to call it. I found a weird old book that said it contained the key to making someone an instrument of universal justice, or something of the sort. Since then I can see... I guess they're souls? Maybe? I can sort of move mine and when I run it into someone else's it seems like I can shut off their powers. Or... take them entirely, if they're dying.”

“Horseshit!” Titus scoffed. “That's... that's like meta-magic. I don't even know if that's real.”

“No, seriously! I don't think it's just magic powers, I think it... 'normalizes' things.” He briefly recounted his encounter with the pain monster.

“Are you kidding me? That...” Titus took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, exhaling slowly and loudly. “Look, I don't know much, but the fact that you even ran into something like that, let alone survived... those odds are astronomical. And you say you negated not just its powers, but its whole form?”

“Yeah. Once I... reached into it, like I did with you—oh don't make that face. Grow up—I kind of disrupted what made it... different, I guess? Like I cut it off from its special qualities. Like it was...”

“Disjuncted,” Titus cut in.

“Yeah, that's a good word for it. Like the old Mordenkainen spell?”

“Fucking nerd.”

“Eat my ass. Anyway, after I killed it, I was able to reach into its... soul? Animating force? Aura? I don't know what to call it. I was able to grab something and pull it out and it just got pulled into me.”

“Not aura.”

“What?”

“Aura's a different thing,” Titus said, dismissively. “So what did you get from doing that?”

“I.. I feel pain differently. I don't flinch or get adrenaline rushes from injuries that don't actually impede my ability to function. I think I have a better sense of what is actually dangerous to my body now. It still hurts, but I don't react to pain like people normally do. It's like...hmm.” Evan drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you know anything about video games? Fighting games, specifically?”

“I used to fuck around on an old Alpha 3rd Strike cabinet when I was a kid. Why?”

“Do you know what 'super armor' is?”

“Isn't that where a move can't get stopped by being hit when you're doing it?”

“Right. I'm kind of like that now. Pain doesn't interrupt me.”

“Fucking nerd.”

Evan's fist involuntarily clenched. “I'm trying to put this in terms you can understand, you stupid reprobate. My experience with your judgment thus far hasn't given me much faith in your intellect.”

Titus burst out laughing. “So he does know how to banter! I thought you might be one of those Rainman types.”

“Oh sure, call it 'banter' to try to excuse the fact that you've been insulting me for the past half hour. Do you say you're ‘just joking’ when people get mad at you for saying stupid shit, too?”

“C'mon, lighten up! We're partners now! Tell me more about this soul thing. I still think you're full of shit.”

Evan sighed through his nose, then held up his left hand, forming his fingers into a circle and peering through them.

“Yours is... a sort of cross between a sea green and an oil slick. The tendrils of it keep reaching out and snapping back, going all over the place. It seems to keep expanding and contracting. It's almost flickering, like... it's indecisive. Very chaotic. The tendrils that aren't snapping around seem to be kept pretty close to your body, wrapping around you like... I can't tell if it's protective or restrictive.”

Titus's expression slowly became serious. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know. I have a lot of theories, but nothing solid to go on. I'm not sure if it's allegorical or a literal representation of a person's... power, maybe? Yours definitely looks a lot different than most people's.”

“I don't believe this for a second. Let me see.”

“How would I do tha—hey!”

Titus grabbed Evan's wrist and held his hand up to his eye. “Ho-lee...”

He pulled back from Evan's hand, staring at him. Then he looked around the room, mouth slack as he took in the diner's other occupants.

“Huh. Did you know it keeps working until you blink?” He said after a moment, a faraway tone to his voice.

“I didn't even know other people could do it,” Evan said, awe in his voice. “Hey, wow, you're right!”

“Jesus, yours is, like, really blue. It looks like... a bunch of steel cables. It's weird, I felt like I both could and couldn't see the edges of it...”

“I can kind of move it, but I'm not sure if I can do anything with it beyond interfering with people's powers. It's like learning to use a muscle you didn't know you had.”

“Huh.” Titus was again silent for a long moment. “Your turn.”

“Can you do anything else supernatural? Besides your time-eye?”

“Don't call it that, it sounds stupid. And... sorta. I seem to have whatever innate talent you need to actually do magic, but it's not like it's easy to find instructions. Most of the people I know who can use it just dabble with half-broken magic items—wands, amulets, charms,” he pulled the silence charm out from under his coat and bounced it at the end of its chain. “I guess I'm sort of a dabbler. I know a few tricks, I can use a lot of magic tools, I can sense magic pretty well, I can dowse... Most of the time I really never have to use anything besides the eye, though.”

“Is the eye all-or-nothing?”

“Yeah. It's not nearly as useful as you'd think, but any edge is an edge.”

“When I turned off your power and it was coming back, though, you started speeding up—or, I guess, everything else was slowing down? You were moving faster, one way or the other. You were able to touch me, and those punches hurt.”

“Huh, yeah, you're right.”

“Do you think there's a way you could learn to only partially activate it?”

“That'd be great, wouldn't it? Thing is, just using it is a huge strain, and that time spend outside of time adds up. Going by normal calendar time I'm only 26.”

“Fuck, I'm 27!” Evan laughed.

“Yeah, well, I'd rather be prematurely gray than what you've got going on. My turn. Uh... huh, I can't really think of anything else. Uh... are you gay?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“No, but the question still counts.”

“I'm bi,” Evan mumbled, crossing his arms across his prodigious chest. “Not that it matters. And before you ask, no, you are not my type. We're done talking about this.”

“Huh. You ever sucked--”

“We. Are. Done. Talking about this.”

“Fine, God. Go.”

Evan mentally circled back to an earlier question he felt hadn't been properly answered. “Why are you after Moreno?”

To Evan's surprise, Titus didn't hesitate. “I'm actually after his current boss. He's just the best lead I have to go on.” He took a deep breath, then started talking with a rushed, deadpan pace, as if he was eager to get the words out as quickly as possible so they wouldn't be in his mouth very long.

“Moreno is working for a guy only known as the Soultaker. He has an innate supernatural ability to pull a person's soul out of their body. When that happens, the person just... shuts down, usually. No motive force behind them. Eventually they just die of dehydration, usually. I've seen some people so set in routine that they keep going without a soul, but... it's not really life.

“It seems like the extraction process takes a while, so he can't just walk past you on the street and pickpocket your entire essence. So he needs people rounded up for him, held until he can do his nasty juju. So that's where a degenerate like Moreno comes in.

“So when he pulls out a soul, it, well, it looks like this.”

Titus pulled a battered, faded Crown Royale bag out of his jacket. It bulged strangely and made a quiet clacking when he set it on the table. He pulled out what looked like a large marble, or maybe a dull pearl, and handed it to Evan.

Evan brushed his hair out of his eyes and peered into the milky depths of the sphere. After a few moments of staring, the murky clouds inside the thing seemed to clear and a face floated to the surface. A black man, maybe in his late 40s, going thin on top. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping, but his expression had a look of discomfort to it, as if he was having a bad dream.

“Jesus Christ,” Evan whispered, “I've seen this guy... Martell Calloway? I saw some news article about how his family found him tied up in his apartment and completely comatose! But he didn't have any injuries beyond being a black eye... so he's dead?”

“Life support,” Titus said, taking Mr. Calloway's soul back from Evan's unresisting fingers, “technically, he's one of the lucky ones. They found his body before it wasted away to nothing, and I was able to intercept his soul before it got to a buyer.”

“Why would someone buy something like this? What use is it? Can you fix him?”

“A human soul is a damn near exhaustible arcane battery,” Titus said gravely. In the split second between sentences, Evan noticed something—after he'd put the bag back into his jacket, Titus surreptitiously touched a pocket on the other side of his jacket, as if he was making sure something was still there.

“If you know what you're doing, you can power a lot of magic using a soul. And you can reuse them as long as you don't overdo it. If you know what you're doing, you can wring all but the last drops of essence out of a soul and let it heal or recover or whatever, and it'll eventually be back to full strength. Very resilient things,” Titus continued. “I don't think they're conscious in there, but... anyway, it's supposed to be really hard to extract a soul. But this guy was born with or spontaneously developed or somehow figured out a shortcut to the whole process. So the market is getting flooded with torture-batteries and ECUs are getting flooded with vegetables. And families are winding up with loved ones who are as good as dead, without having any idea why this happened to them. Dozens of them have been taken off life support in the past few months. Half these souls have no body to return to. And no, I can't fix it. At least not yet,” he sighed again. “I was hoping once I found him, I could somehow get the secret out of him or force him to put them back, or... maybe I thought if I killed him it'd reverse the effect. He needs killing, either way.”

Titus's eye widened as a thought struck him and he looked Evan in the eye for the first time since he'd started the story. Evan realized what he was thinking and looked down at the tattoo on his left arm, flexing his fingers.

“If you can take people's powers after they die...”

“...then we can save these people.”

Titus put a hand over his mouth and for a moment Evan thought he saw his eye well up.

“I'm in,” Evan said, a sense of righteous purpose welling in his heart. “I don't really know what the universe wants, but I doubt... I know it's not this. We'll find him, we'll stop him, and we'll save as many of these people as we can.”

“...thanks,” Titus mumbled behind his hand. He swallowed hard, then seemed to come back to himself. “We're back to square one, though.”

“You said you could dowse? Like, for real?”

“Yes, for real. I can find things and people with the pendulum method. It's handy for tracking down bounties.”

“Why don't you dowse Moreno?”

“Why didn't I think of that?!” Titus said incredulously, smacking his forehead. “Because he's warded. He's not magic himself, but he's collected enough gear through his career that my normal methods don't work.”

Evan rubbed his chin. “What if we used an abnormal method?”

-------------------

An hour later, they were in the RV. Titus was poring over the collection of Evan's notes and the strange papers he'd bought from Delmann's shop. Evan was very carefully slicing a strip of skin from his own ankle up all the way up his leg. The Guiding Light—the Finder's Follysat on the table between them, filled with fresh blood.

“Even if this works, he's going to know we're coming,” Titus muttered, engrossed in the pages. “Remember what I said?”

“That's why we're not going to look for him,” Evan said, adjusting his grip on the potato peeler. “I don't know how we'd even write his name. Can you read that, by the way?”

“Kind of. This is... most of this is written in, like, arcane pidgin. Who compiled these notes?”

“I did, I think.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to clarify on that. Apparently a couple months ago, before the ritual, I drilled a hole in my own brain to erase some kind of very dangerous memory.”

“You what.”

“That's not a metaphor or anything. Really did it. I could show you the video.”

“I'll pass. So you don't remember where this came from?” Titus shook the Book of Fate at him.

“Nope.”

“Jesus shit, do you have any idea--”

“How reckless that was? Yeah, yeah, I'm still here and I'm the answer to your fuckin' prayers, aren't I?” Evan gave a whoop as the peeling skin reached his thigh. “Got it this time!” he said cheerfully, snipping the flesh-ribbon off with scissors.

“God, that's so fucking gross. Anyway, you haven't explained how we're going to use that thing to find Moreno.”

“We don't set it to look for him. We look for somewhere he's been. Maybe the last place he slept. Do you think you can describe him well enough in that language for it to work?”

Titus looked like he might actually be impressed, but he hid it well. “Yeah, probably.”

“Good. I've got a dictionary I've put together on that tablet next to you, but I'm not sure how accurate it is. Maybe it'll help?”

---------------------

Two hours later, they had it.

Find where a man born between the 27th and 28th north parallels during a new moon under the sign of capricorn with black hair and green eyes who has killed at least 10 people slept in the past week.

They really had to squeeze the letters in, but when Evan put a flame to the wick, it sprung to life, wavered for a moment, and then pointed east. Both men cheered. Evan threw Titus the keys.

“Drive! Drive north until I tell you otherwise!”

While Titus started the engine, Evan spread a map of the United States on the table in front of the lamp, then produced a protractor and a notebook from a drawer. “Okay, you bastard... let's see where you've been hiding...”

It took three days—one spent driving north, one spent driving back to where they'd started, and one spent driving south. While Titus drove, Evan made meticulous notes of the flame's direction, marking angles on the map. Finally he threw the pencil down triumphantly.

“He's in Salt Lake City.”

“Well, that narrows it down a little, I guess. So what, do we just go there and hope this thing points us in the right direction?”

“Too slow,” Evan called, stepping back into what used to be his bedroom and sitting at his computer. “Now I work my magic.”

After parking, Titus walked back to look over Evan's shoulder. The half-dozen monitors on the wall were flickering between rapidly-changing pictures of faces and what appeared to be CCTV footage.

“What is this?”

“This,” Evan said with dramatic pride, “is Blaccat. Facial recognition algorithms that the CIA wishesit had. I actually started working on it years ago before I thought about the implications of it, but I shelved it. I figured since I may be needing to, uh...”

“Be Batman?”

“...yeah...that I should get back to work on it. Right now it's comparing faces to the description you gave me and cycling through every damn security camera in the city looking for it.”

“How illegal is this?”

“Soooooo illegal.”

“Oh, hey, can you get into police department records?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“See if you can get into the Las Vegas mugshots from... February 2019. Run your face-recognition thingy there.”

“Alright.... and... is that our boy?”

A handsome Latino man in his early 30s with shoulder-length jet-black hair and piercing green eyes stared at them from over a booking clipboard.

“That's him,” Titus breathed.

“Perfect! Now I just have to feed that into... wow.” Evan made a gesture and a black and white video popped up on the biggest monitor. The man in the mugshot was walking along the street, flanked by a short stocky man in bandanna and a lanky man with the ugliest white-boy dreads Evan had ever seen.

“That's him! Where is that? When is that?”

Evan grinned up at Titus. “That's live. I can track him and put us at the nearest intersection.”

Titus smiled, eye overbright, and began breathing heavily through his nose. “We got him.”

Evan met his eye and nodded. “Let's get him.”

#my writing #urban fantasy #ugly man chronicles: reignition

23 notes · View notes

lovelyirony · 4 years ago

Note

Maybe 60 and 46, Pepper / Natasha? (Based off our conversation from the other day :P )

“Dance with me.”/“You look like you could use a hug.” introducing: evil businesswoman pepper and her lovely assistant, natasha

Pepper didn’t like dealing with other businesses early in the morning. In fact, she usually didn’t. She did her worst in the mornings, and it was clear to see.

There was a man still lying in his chair when she comes out of the meeting room, and asks for a clean-up crew.

She hates tech start-ups.

Her assistant didn’t last. They never did, although this one had shown promise: he was with the company for five months.

She was sad to see him go, in shock at another mess she had made.

“Maybe you could stop killing other businesses,” Tony tells her while they’re eating lunch. It’s a nice place, where they’re at. They have a good balsamic vinaigrette.

“I could, but then where would the company be?” Pepper asks. “They need to know that I like to be impressed. I want success. That’s how you get what you want.”

Tony makes a face.

He wants to say something, but he can’t. Not when he signed the company over to her, and she’s improved it, been allowed to make her own choices, bring everything up to her standards. She’s put everyone at her heel, and by god has it been satisfying.

But she still needs a new assistant.

Natasha Romanoff is not liking the current assignment. Then again, she doesn’t like a lot of SHIELD’s assignments.

She likes the company, really. They’re altruistic as hell and like going through the proper channels to get the proper work done.

But she misses the feeling of getting yourself immersed, getting your hands stained beyond belief.

An assistant.

They want her to be a damned assistant for Stark Industries. Investigate the CEO, figure out what kind of dirt they can dig up and get out.

It’s insufferable. She should be doing high-speed car chases and seducing oil barons to make sure their finances get drained.

She shouldn’t be asking what kind of creamer goes in coffee and what kind of pens they want to be ordered.

But here she is for the interview process, and she’s wearing her best office dress, which is still a bit risky for what an office job is, but she pays everyone else no mind. She taps her heel on the floor.

Pepper hates interviewing candidates. But she has to observe who is going to be working with her, who can handle what they’re going to throw at her.

There’s a woman in the middle of it: Natalie Rushman.

She’s been abroad with various companies, used to do some amateur modeling, and is wearing a dress that would probably get her in trouble with HR if Pepper didn’t appreciate it so damn much.

She’s interesting.

Her eyes flash when Pepper asks her how comfortable she is in slightly dangerous situations.

“What, like copy paper being out?” she asks. Pepper laughs.

“Something a touch more dangerous than that, Miss Rushman.”

The interview ends.

Pepper thinks about her through the whole thing.

Natasha is excited.

Finally a job where she can use her skills. Where she can do what she needs to do, and it will be wonderful.

Natasha shouldn’t be excited.

But she can’t help herself as she buys four new pairs of shoes and debates on a skirt that she should bring.

After all, she will be getting the job if Ms. Potts’ posture gave any indication.

Miss Rushman starts officially on a Wednesday after two days of training. Usually it would take anywhere from one to two weeks. But she’s scarily efficient and has apparently worked with the same kind of things.

Pepper finds that she’s the best assistant she’s ever had. She’s already taken notes on what Pepper does throughout the day, knows when she needs to take a break for a headache, and also knows the extremely specific coffee creamer that she uses.

It would almost terrify her, if she could still get terrified at the mundane details that people could know about you.

But Miss Rushman makes it seem easy, and so she lets it slide. After all, it’s not like Natalie can just leave. She’s signed four different sets of paperwork that basically say if she so much as breathes wrong, Stark Industries gets her soul for eternity.

She’ll be trapped.

Natasha finds that aspect exciting.

She shouldn’t find the act of Pepper Potts holding a letter-opener to a business associate’s neck hot.

It shouldn’t be.

But Pepper got a lovely crimson-red manicure, and she’s smiling so sweetly as she discusses what they agreed upon versus what’s happening.

It takes Natalie Rushman a moment to process.

“Miss Potts?” she interrupts.

Pepper’s head slowly turns. Her strawberry-blonde hair moves smoothly over the letter-opener, over the hand clutched, trying to hold onto a way to live.

“Yes, Miss Rushman?”

“I have some paperwork for you to sign. Regarding the new hospital tech installment.”

“Set them on my right. I’m finishing up some...loose ends.”

Natalie doesn’t react to the loud noise other than a displeased hum and asking the other members in the room if they want lemon-water.

It’s refreshing in the afternoon, and she needs to clean the cabinet behind them anyways.

Pepper gets adjusted to her assistant. And Natalie gets adjusted to her life.

She’s comfortable with it. It’s easy, to lean on who she had to be.

It’s a rude wake-up call when she gets lunch with Clint, and he asks how the mission is going.

“You any closer to taking her down?”

She blinks for a moment. Pokes at her cake.

“Nat, come on. You know she can’t keep getting away with this, right?”

“Why does the world need more businessmen?” Natasha murmurs.

Clint stares at her.

“Come on. You told me when I brought you over here that you didn’t want to turn into who they made you into again. Just because it’s easier doesn’t mean it’s worth it.”

He’s right.

Of course he is. Clint usually is about this type of thing.

Pepper Potts is...well. Natasha can admire the dedication she takes with her success.

But usual bosses don’t really kill the competition.

Literally.

Pepper’s noticed a change in Natalie Rushman.

She doesn’t like it.

She doesn’t watch for as long, doesn’t talk as easily with her anymore.

Tony says maybe all of this terrible shit is catching up with her, her conscience finally clueing her in on the situation.

No, that’s not it. That can’t be it. Not after how she stared at Pepper, not after her smile, not after those nights where they stayed late and both gazed but never said anything.

Natalie is in the breakroom, staring into a coffee mug that has nothing in it.

“You look like you could use a hug,” Pepper says dryly, sidling up to her. She takes a step away.

Hm.

“I’m fine, just a busy day,” Natalie says.

God, she’s not even trying to lie. That’s infuriating.

“Your days are about to get a little bit busier,” she starts in. “I’ve decided to host a little celebration for all of the companies we’ve worked with over this past year. We’re going to have a real ball of a time, and I want you to help plan it. And attend.”

Natasha looks at her. Really looks at her.

Shit.

Pepper’s onto her. She knows something is different, something is off.

And if Natasha’s to get away, she’s still going to have fun toying with her. She’s going to make life hell.

The saying goes that if you can’t handle the heat, get the hell out of the kitchen.

Natasha’s been cooking for a much longer time than Pepper, and she’s known her way around more kitchens than most.

Bring it.

Putting together an honest-to-god ball for an eccentric, threatening CEO is fun. It shouldn’t be fun, but it is.

The caterers are scared into arriving early, the invitations are embossed with actual gold, and the music costs way more than it should.

Natasha is having so much fun with it that she completely forgets about her dress.

She’s cursing as she’s tearing through her closet, looking for something that would be remotely appropriate for a ball for a sadistic CEO that she kind of has a crush on.)

There’s a knock at the door.

She rips it open, expecting it to be Clint or Maria to make fun of her, but it’s not.

“Um. Delivery for Miss Rushman?”

Oh.

It’s a midnight blue ballgown, long-sleeved. She never would have chosen it for herself.

The notecard attached said:

Wear this one. I know you best. -Potts

A shiver runs up her spine.

She’s not sure for what reason she’ll assign it to.

But she puts it on, and it fits perfectly. She doesn’t want to think about how much it will cost.

Pepper, of course, looks like a dream. Or a nightmare. A terrifyingly beautiful nightmare.

Her dress is burgundy, her lipstick matches. Her hair is loose, not kept in the high ponytail that is customary.

Her eyes are a brilliant blue. They see right through her.

“You look gorgeous, Miss Rushman,” she says, looking her up and down. “As to be expected, of course.”

“Of course,” Natasha murmurs.

The night will be long.

They mingle. Natasha dutifully informs Pepper of who the lesser players on the field are, and fetches drinks.

It’s...odd.

It feels like something big is going to happen. And maybe it will, maybe it won’t.

“Dance with me,” Pepper asks her. “Please.”

She’s adding the last part in so that it sounds nice. But it’s a demand all the same.

Natasha takes her hand, and maybe she should be more reserved about it, but she can’t help it.

It’s captivating. It’s dangerous. But she accepts all the same.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Pepper murmurs. “You far outshine every other woman here.”

“Even you?” Natasha asks.

Pepper rolls her eyes, but smiles.

“Obviously, Natasha. Who else would?”

She doesn’t notice that slip-up. Maybe it’s because she’s blown away at their close proximity, maybe it’s because Miss Potts’ perfume is absolutely intoxicating. But she doesn’t notice.

They dance and they talk.

“I’m happy you wore the dress.”

“It’s not like I had anything like it in my closet,” Natasha says as Pepper smiles.

“I figured. Not many host balls anymore.”

“You’re a different sort.”

“I am, aren’t I? But I think you and I are one and the same.”

They’re isolated.

And Natasha realizes it too late. She was a fool.

“You haven’t quit after a year, after everything we’ve been through. Everything that I put you through. A regular person couldn’t do that, could they?”

“You’d be surprised at what people can handle,” Natasha says.

Pepper smiles.

“You and I both know you’re far from an average person...Romanoff.”

She tenses.

“You knew?”

“It’s a relativity new tidbit of knowledge, but having a tech genius as a colleague is...nice.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Reveal you,” Pepper says. “You’re a spy. You make your bread and butter off the fact that no one knows you for very long. And me? Well, you can’t kill me. The only thing that could possibly have an effect on me is if you killed the business. Which you don’t have the infrastructure for.”

“And if I don’t want that? What do I have to do?” Natasha asks.

Secrecy is her safe spot. It’s the only place where she’s ever been secure.

“Stay. Leave that Strategic-Homeland-Whatever, and come with me. Stay with me.”

“I don’t think I can do that,” Natasha says. “Your life and mine are too similar for that.”

“But think of all we could do together,” she says. She brushes a hair back from Natasha’s cheek.

It’s unbearable, that feeling. It’s a feeling that Natasha will spend all her life denying that she’ll chase.

“I can’t.”

Pepper looks at her. It’s a look that’s chilling.

“Very well, Miss Romanoff. Then that will be all.”

Pepper won’t fight her physically. She would lose that way, especially with how well-tailored the dress is on her body.

But she has other ways of fighting.

And god help Natasha, she knows she’s doomed.

The worst part?

She doesn’t exactly mind.

#lovelyirony writes #blackpepper #natpepper #peppernat #black widow #natasha romanoff #pepper potts #alternate universe: villain #villain au

56 notes · View notes

ferret-not-microwave · 3 years ago

Text

Les Amis Modern AU: What They Wish Others Believed About Them (Part 4)

[I kind of wrote this in response to some general trends in characterising the Amis. There are some stereotypes which I'm not quite comfortable with.]

[So much delay. Sorry.]

Joly:

• Really, really wishes that people don't laugh at him for his anxiety issues. He is truly terrified of getting infected with some disease or the other, and even more terrified of spreading it to Joly and Chetta. It doesn't help that he is one of the most sincere students of the lot, and spends a lot of time reading medical journals, which feed into his panic. He feels safe wearing masks, using rubbing alcohol (or wearing gloves), and having a bag full of basic first aid supplies, and gets embarrassed if anyone judges him for it. Also, he doesn't like it if "concerned" people ask him whether he had a past history of debilitating disease or something, he doesn't want to discuss it at all, okay? -_-

• When Joly fusses about illness in the Musain, it is him letting his guard down. He has to actively rein in his anxiety to function in the hospital, and gets super exhausted from hiding it. His tells in the hospital are are wide eyes behind his protective goggles and a compulsive toying with the wristband of his gloves. He's one of the most courageous individuals ever because of what he faces on a regular basis. He hopes that he might get some reassurance from the Amis to stop his spiralling thoughts, and he mostly gets it.

• Joly definitely has a wild side, and is more than his anxious, serious self. If there's one who can one-up Courf's cheesy pick-up lines, it is Joly. With a eyebrow quirk that leaves everyone giggly and blushing. If there's one who can set a Karaoke stage on fire (not literally, that would be R), it's Joly. If there's one who can down shots to match Bahorel, it's Joly. The one who is the most eager to go skinny dipping? Joly. The one who is, oddly, the most eager to break a pinata? Joly. Joly is more than a "quiet science nerd who checks his tongue in the mirror all the time".

• Joly and Ferre INSIST that they do not talk about random medical trivia all the time. Honestly, their shared interests involve Jane Austen and massive amounts of gossip with tea, along with Doctor Who, Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. MASSIVE AMOUNTS OF TEA, IN EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD.

• There are days he wants to tackle people like an angry Pikachu. But real life is tough, and not everyone has the privilege of confronting people. But he really, really can do without people casting aspersions on his poly relationship with Bossuet and 'Chetta ALL THE TIME. He has been confronted as an "opportunist" in Pride walks, faced with people's pitying look to Bossuet or 'Chetta as though he is stringing them both along or "sharing" 'Chetta with Bossuet, cheered on and slapped on the back by straight cismen for "knowing how to have fun", and once directly asked if he's the one who will marry 'Chetta. He goes into panic often, and for the longest time thought himself a really awful person.

• Beware a Joly in a farmer's market. Not because of haggling, but because some people ALWAYS assume that he's amazing at math while he actually fumbles at the cash counter. Similarly, he hates it if people crack shady jokes about him being a Marie Kondo around him (just because he likes neatness AND MARIE KONDO THANK YOU VERY MUCH). And no, he doesn't like rice all the time.

• Please give back the Tupperwares. Unlike popular opinion, Joly won't chase you down for his Tupperware like some do, and isn't particularly possessive about them. That doesn't mean that he can replace misplaced Tupperwares for all eternity, please. ;_; (Same goes for the beeswax food wraps and dino bandages, c'mon peeps don't help yourself to them indiscriminately ;_;).

• Apart from his baggy sweatshirt and dinosaur pajamas aesthetic, he also has a dress shirt and pleated pants collection that would probably leave Jay Gatsby jealous AF.

Bossuet:

• Is really self-conscious about his receding hairline. He had taken to shaving his head to make it look cool, because he's really uncomfortable with weird jokes about his age and baldness. Shaving heads is pretty high-maintenance at times, and he's slowly opening up to let the hair grow back on the sides of the head for the heck of it. He used to have a large collection of hats too, which he still uses occasionally, but now it is just a fashion accessory, not a way to hide. He likes scarves as well.

• He used to flinch and swallow his discomfort when people would touch his scalp without permission, now he firmly brushes off their hands with a light scowl.

• Similarly, he hates it when people actively try to compare him to Joly. He hates being considered less successful, a "third wheel" to Joly and 'Chetta and someone who can be taken less seriously. This doesn't mean he is jealous or angry with Joly at all though.

• He feels really, really angry when Joly sometimes breaks down in front of him and 'Chetta when confronted with comments on their relationship. He can and will stonewall anyone who hurts either of them.

• Bossuet understands Joly's anxiety because he faces anxiety as well. He often gets nightmares of his "bad luck" turning batshit Final-Destination-esque and resulting in horrible accidents to Joly, 'Chetta amd the rest of the Amis. He knows the "bad luck" jokes are good humouring, but it wears him down a lot in exam/interview/work meeting weeks and leaves him third and fourth guessing himself. He had also entered a bout of depression because the "bad luck" jokes had convinced himself that he can't progress in life because what's the use. It took a lot of work and, oddly, a super niche article from the Amis blog detailing research on how some societies actively ostracize people for being "unlucky" and how it is linked to major societal oppression, to help him.

• Bossuet loves having a heart of gold. Sometimes some people tell him not to be so nice ("what if that person has cheated you off money with a sob story?"). He refuses, because he cherishes being nice and knows his limits. He sometimes worries if he's being stupid, like when the great "attendance-by-proxy" disaster happens. But Marius' broad and grateful smile, "hi, how are you doing?" texts every morning, and monthly batch of AMAZING chocolate cookies makes it worth it.

• Bossuet's accidents do lead to some happy accidents. He stumbled on a whole new recipe of gooey brownies by accident. An amazing combination of dark chocolate and red chilli peppers (maybe not so weird in retrospect)? By accident. He fell upon Courfe's sandcastle once, but it resulted in a rare hermit crab crawling out. Courfe gave a treat at the new brunch place he was saving up for, because apparently that hermit crab had made Ferre all starry-eyed and happier than he had been in weeks. And as for the rest pf the accidents? Nothing that duct tape , 'Chetta, Joly and occasionally Feuilly can't help with. In all, his accidents are always smallish, and never monumental.

• Bossuet can put 'Chetta and Ferre to shame with his eyebrow raising (at least occasionally? Hehe?). He does that a lot when people ask him if he has put water on fire or has fallen into wells. "Like bruh? I don't go anywhere close to wells, I love sidewalks and what's with everyone asking me about the kitchen being on fire?" He also does that a lot to piners (R, Ep, Courfe, 'Parnasse).

• Bossuet is one of Enj's closest friends in Law School (apart from Courfe), because Law classes and shared optional papers. Duh. They often have long discussions which are super pleasant, fluffy, yet sensible because of his really sensitive optimism. Bossuet's unorthodox insights make their way into Enj's notes for ABC meetings, and he credits him always. Similarly Enj bails him out with attendance issues. Bossuet often calmly advices him about R. Since Joly has a similar relationship with Ferre, Bossuet and Joly sometimes help Enj and Ferre sort out lingering grievances between them, or plain hear them out. Enj and Bossuet have Froyo days.

Musichetta:

• Loves, loves, LOVES books. Has no idea why people think nerds come in a kind of stereotype only ("I don't look like you", she complains to Joly and Ferre one day, "but I can defeat you two in a Jane Austen quiz WTF!" They agree emphatically, and Ferre adds "and maybe Jehan too. Maybe".). She is a massive sucker for Comic-Cons and hates men who try to prove otherwise. -_- She loves libraries as much as she loves bars.

• Has no idea why people think she's super bitchy or about to eat them up. Many people plain run when she so much as looks at them while doing a shift as a barista in the Musain. Or ask for "the nicer barista" (Cosette?). When she breathes a sigh of relief when someone treats her nice, she also braces herself for self-righteous "saviours". "Are you sure you are doing okay with those men?" "They are using you!". If she poured milk all over a client's trousers because of such a comment not-so-accidentally, no one needs to know. ;)

• Sometimes, she feels drained out. Having to support both her partners anxiety can leave her down too. They are amazing people, who love her a lot, and know that she needs her recharge time. Often Bossuet takes over in caring for Joly and vice-versa. 'Chetta has a small arrangement with Courfe on those days. If he has free time, the two of them go for an amazing, super relaxing spa session. Bahorel is back-up spa partner. The two of them know not to ask questions, but let her unwind her thoughts and air them out.

• 'Chetta joined Les Amis L'ABC much later. One of her pet peeves were when Joly or Bossuet would go to protests which could easily turn violent because of right wing trolls and the police swarming the city. Specifically, when they went without more than a word or two to her. She would get worried sick, particularly if they couldn't pick up the phone within half an hour of the protest ending, and would cry alone because she didn't want to come off as needy and one of those people who do not support their cause.

• She finally broke down before them after Bossuet had a small concussion. They were really shamefaced at having not thought about her feelings, and their apologies ran for hours. While Joly promised to regularly give her updates, Bossuet asked her to join the ABC if she is comfortable with it. It took time for her to accept that she was being in the group because of the cause and not because she wanted to helicopter-mom Joly and Bossuet, but when the next protest happened, she realised that she was in a place she always wanted to be in.

• The Amis thought that she was a member anyway. She would holler at

• 'Chetta hates it when people think that it's Joly or Bossuet who end up lavishing gifts on her all the time. True, they do, but she does it too. She's a sucker for thoughtful gift giving, and she spoils the Amis A LOT OF TIMES. She can scour the Earth for ideal gifts for her boys, and she often takes care of a stray bill or two, as much as she humanely can. She doesn't play a one-upping battle of gifts though, she just loves a lot.

• She is really self conscious about her small hands and tiny feet. Which seem to her too small in comparison with the rest of her body. Sometimes she used to wear really fluffy mittens in winter to hide how small her hands her. Not so much now. :)

•She confided to Jehan that she didn't like people romanticizing her small hands and feet because she thought they were putting unrealistic standards of the "frail beauty" on her when she was anything but. She said this after she heard R chortle about how Joly had introduced her as having tiny hands and feet. The discussion ended in her gaping and then crying out of laughter because (according to Jehan) apparently Joly was really drunk when he first talked to the Amis about her, and had also said something like "she has fortune-teller eyes, yannow! Ask Bossuet! And her dimples! Marius, you booby, you pool noodle, I know how you feel like when you met Cosette!"

Apparently Bahorel had replied with "you need new pants" and then started laughing like no tomorrow. Bossuet, not so drunk (because he was late to the party), had taken the sensible route and shown the Amis the picture the three of them took after their first date.

• Seriously, she knows zilch about tarot cards or natal charts.

#les amis #les amis d'abc #les miz #les miserables #joly #bossuet #musichetta #undoing poly stereotypes #anxiety #we love them don't we?#stop bald shaming #stop laughing at anxiety #don't judge #ferret's freshly microwaved post

21 notes · View notes

lesbian-vmin · 4 years ago

Text

Okay. I wanted to revisit this (x) ask to talk about the topic of “disconnect” a little more. I’m going to do it very briefly, and anyone can feel free to disagree with me. I’m sharing anyway.

So, I tend to not get hung up over one video. Or one moment. Or even recent things? Because, let’s just say we watch a video where Vmin don’t have many interactions. Maybe it’s in a Run BTS episode or during an interview. They don’t always have to go out of their way to interact with each other, and just because we don’t see them interacting (especially during Run episodes, or other heavily edited shows such as BV is ITS), doesn’t mean they didn’t interact at all during filming.

As an example, I think it was in a Run episode that Jimin(?) ended up saying that he and Taehyung were watching the stars at night during BV2 in Hawaii. (note to self: find source link later) Sure. We didn’t see it. And we only have Jimin’s words to go off of. But, they spend a number of days at their vacation destination, and we don’t even get a full 24 hours worth of content. They aren’t TV show characters or cartoon characters. They are real people. Their lives go on when the cameras aren’t running, and the things that get edited out (that were filmed, but we’ll never see) actually happened. That being said, a majority of what happens, even during filming will never be seen by us. The only time you can possibly get a full unedited event is during a live show. And fancams of them on stage don’t necessarily count because different angles will tell you different stories.

Moving on to my main point. The reason I don’t think there’s anything weird going on, and try to read too much into things based on what little we get to see is simple. Let’s look back at 2017(?) or 18(?) vmin when everyone cried they weren’t close. We’ve had BV every year (except last, but we got ITS) since 2016. (BELOW THE CUT) (didn’t I say this was going to be breif? 😅)

Europe - 2016

Hawaii - 2017

Malta - 2018

New Zealand - 2019

ITS - 2020

So the reason I was never bothered and affected by those “worries” was literally because of BV, and other small moments we did get to see. Because I know that we don’t possibly get to see everything, but it doesn’t invalidate the moments that obviously show us they are close and okay. And if it’s just one small moment, it means everything. Their relationship doesn’t become more insignificant just because of what we get to see through editing and them putting on a show because they’re working.

In 2016, we had Jimin wanting to eat with Taehyung when he joined the group, but Taehyung wanted to eat seafood with SJ & JK. Him wanting to eat a particular food doesn’t mean he and Jimin aren’t close ffs. They kept in touch the entire time Taehyung was still in Korea filming. If Taehyung didn’t care about Jimin, he would have ignored him or been keeping in touch with another member instead. Later, we have Jimin calling Tae, more in a panic about him being lost than Taehyung himself. When they thought Taehyung’s bag was missing and they’d have to send him home? Watch BV1, and at that part, watch Jimin. See how upset he looks. He just got his best friend with him in Europe, and now he thinks he’s going to lose him again. Notice how he doesn’t participate so much when they start the prank on Taehyung. Because he’s just happy Tae doesn’t have to go, and he doesn’t want to give it away. I mean, this is just my assumption on this part, but it doesn’t seem unreasonable.

In 2017, we have Taehyung and Jimin watching the stars at night in Hawaii. Sure, we don’t get to see it. But we know that it happened because Jimin said so. And without reason to believe he’s lying about it, we have no reason not to accept that as the truth. Then we have the letter Taehyung wrote to Jimin and them being all sentimental about it. Taehyung had to ask if the letters were going to be read out loud, so it’s likely there were things he wanted to say that he didn’t include in the letter. Jimin said that he really understood Taehyung when he heard the letter, and no one (not even the members) could understand why Taehyung cried while reading the letter. And any fan who tries to analyze and tell you why. I wouldn’t give their theory an ounce of thought. Because if Jimin thinks not even the members understand, how can we possibly understand? I promise you there’s no theory out there good enough to be the truth behind Vmin.

In 2018...do I even have to go there? Just look at them during BV. I did a whole ass analysis about this (x), but there’s a lot more that can be said. Jimin was upset, again, obviously, that Taehyung didn’t join them right away. He’s clearly upset (and looks like he wants to cry) when they accidentally order 7 sandwiches for the members as if Taehyung is with them. He was so happy when Taehyung arrived that they held hand, no only across Namjoon’s lap, but on his shoulder, too. Jimin didn’t get to hug him until the end of their lunch, but you can bet he was sitting there waiting for the moment to do so. After Taehyung arrives, they are basically glued to each other, and Jimin goes to see and do the same things he did before because he wants to do them with Taehyung. That speaks volumes for how much he cares about Taehyung, and it shows how valuable Taehyung’s presence is to him. Taehyung could have done the things with any other member who hadn’t done the things yet, but it was Jimin who visited the same places. He even said that he was thinking about the things Taehyung would like while he was doing them, such as looking at the moon (because Taehyung likes the night views).

In 2019? In New Zealand? Don’t even get me started on this one. We have the moments where they slept together, pretty much by choice. Jimin didn’t look upset when Hoseok basically gave him permission to sleep with Taehyung in the camper. Then we later have Jimin giving up the room he wanted because the person he shares the room with was more important, and he wanted to sleep with Taehyung. He didn’t have to. He could have went with the room he wanted. But he chose to take the room with Taehyung. And, of course, we have my most favorite vmin moment of all time. Their horse date. Jimin could have done anything he wanted that day, but he chose to go with Taehyung. He didn’t even want to ride the horse. He wanted to go because he wanted to be with Taehyung, and no one can prove me wrong. If he wanted to ride a bike, why he didn’t go somewhere that was more bike-friendly? Such as a biking trail. Those exists. And they have the perfect terrain for mountain bikes. And I’m sure New Zealand has its fair share of biking trails. But he didn’t. Instead, he went with Taehyung. To a field. (Also, he didn’t say he wanted to ride a bike. He said he wanted to go with Taehyung “but (he) doesn’t wan’t to ride the horse”)

And then we have 2020. In the SOOP. There are a lot of moments in here. You have moments where they were playing together, singing together, and even in bed together. They said they wanted to sleep together, though I’m not sure why that didn’t end up happening. We can talk about theories all day, but I don’t think anyone of us knows the truth. They spent a lot of time together during in the SOOP. It’s more recent, so I don’t want to post too many spoilers for those who haven’t gotten the chance to see it.

So. To sum up all of this. The reason I don’t ever worry too much or read too much into things is because of all this. I can’t say shit about things we don’t get to see if we never even get to hear about it. If there’s a moment of tension between Vmin (I’ve talked about at least one before) we can point out how, at that moment, they seem to be tense and probably have a current issue. But anyone who honestly thinks a small moment of tension is indication of any more serious issues (such as them secretly hating each other) obviously doesn’t have a best friend, or s/o, or sibling, or parent. Because every person you’re close to is a person you get irritated at once in a while. If you never get irritated with them, how do you know you’re close? It’s when we get over things that bother us with our loved ones that prove how much we love them.

Call it confirmation bias if you will, but it’s things like BV and other small moments we get to see that assure me Vmin are as close as can be. Because they’re moments that actually happen, and a year’s worth of edited content that might make it seem like they don’t talk to each other or they’re “weird” doesn’t change the moments that we do get to see. It doesn’t invalidate them. It doesn’t make them less significant. It doesn’t make them non-existent. And go ahead and say that’s me hanging onto a thread. Because one day, there’ll be another moment. And I’ll say, “I told you so.”

The most important thing we have to remember is that we don’t get to see everything. And...I mean. Does it makes sense when I say I can’t talk about a moment they don’t interact, but the moments they do make it clear that they care about each other a lot?

I hope this answers your ask better than the first time I attempted.

Also. Note how the members tend to ask Jimin when they want to know what Taehyung is up to.

#vmin analysis #vmin #needs source

39 notes · View notes

introvertguide · 4 years ago

Text

Pulp Fiction (1994); AFI #94

The most recent movie for review was the Quentin Tarantino crime thriller comedy (probably more things) Pulp Fiction (1994). It is a very complicated story that is told out of chronological order and focuses on scenes of meaningful character interaction. This confusion meant it lost out to movies with a more straight forward time line at the Oscars, since the move was nominated for seven awards but only took home one. The single win for best screenplay was well deserved and I still believe it is one of the most creatively written films of all time. I want to go over the plot to show what I mean, but let me do my standard due diligence:

SPOILER WARNING!!! I AM ABOUT TO GIVE THE BASIC DETAILS OF ONE OF THE MOST COMPLEX STORY LINES IN MOVIE HISTORY!!! IT WILL NOT LIKELY SPOIL MUCH OF ANYTHING, BUT I AM STICKING THIS WARNING ON JUST IN CASE SOMEBODY FINDS SOMETHING!!!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The film begins with what is pretty much a prologue but what turns out to be about the middle of the film chronologically. A couple is at a diner and they are talking about robbing banks. They only refer to each other as Pumpkin (Tim Roth) and Honey Bunny (Amanda Plummer). They discuss the best kind of places to rob and they decide that a diner would be a good change of pace. Impulsively, they pull out guns and hold up the diner and...title card with awesome spaghetti western music!

Two hitmen are talking about Europe as they go to do a job. Vincent Vega (Jon Travolta) talks about his adventures with Jules Winnfield (Samuel L. Jackson) as they pull up at an Los Angeles apartment complex. The two discuss their boss Marsellus Wallace and how touchy he is about his wife. The boss has apparently sent them to get something from a bunch of guys. Jules and Vincent call on an apartment with 3 college age men and intimidate them into giving over a briefcase with something glowing inside. The case is what they came for, so the hitmen take it and kill two of the men at the apartment...

Flash to a new scene in which Vincent is going to get some drugs from his dealer (Eric Stoltz). Vincent is a heroine user despite cocaine being the popular drug. It turns out Vincent was asked by his boss to take out his wife...the one he is very protective of. He just needs to hang out with her so she is not bored and not get into trouble. To accomplish this, he shoots up some heroine and goes to meet the wife named Mia Wallace (Uma Thurman). They seem to get along and he drives her to a restaurant called Jack Rabbit Slims. The place is fantastic, all the waiters are dressed up like American movie icons and the booths are repurposed cars from the 50s (if this place actually existed, you can be sure I would search it out and go there at least once). The two bond over dinner and then volunteer for a twist dance contest.

Mia and Vincent go back to her house and Vincent goes to the restroom to talk himself out of trying to score with Mia. She is pretty cool, but not worth dying for. While he is away, Mia finds some heroine in the pocket of Vincent’s jacket and thinks it is cocaine. She snorts it and immediately starts to overdose. Vincent panics and decides to drive her to the dealer’s house. The dealer has a nurse kit that comes with a giant needle full of adrenaline which Vincent stabs her with. She wakes up and Vincent takes her back home and is glad that he will live another day...

We jump to a flashback of a young boy who is has lost his father in Vietnam. An officer is visiting that has a gift. Apparently, there is a family watch that belonged to the boys great grandfather and had been passed down through the generations. His father had it when he was captured and gave it to the officer before the father died in the POW camp. The officer escaped and found the boy to give him the watch...

A boxer named Butch (Bruce Willis) wakes up from a dream. He is the boy all grown up. He is about to throw a fight for Marsellus Wallace (Ving Rhames), the same boss that everyone is afraid of. Butch does not throw the fight and accidently kills the other boxer. It turns out that he bet on himself and now he needs to get out of town before Marsellus Wallace catches him. He goes to a hotel where his rather dumb girlfriend is waiting for him. They go to bed and then are about to leave the next morning when it turns out that she forgot his watch. Butch freaks out and goes back to their old apartment to get the watch (note the very long take following Bruce Willis as he takes a back way to get to the apartment). Vincent is there waiting for him, but Vincent is in the bathroom and Butch is able to get a gun and kill Vincent as he is coming out of the bathroom. Things seem good so Butch drives off...

As Butch drives home, he sees Marsellus crossing the street in front of him so Butch hits the gas and runs down the boss but also hits an oncoming car. Both men are injured but Marsellus gains his senses and chases Butch into a shop where both are captured by a weird redneck with a shotgun. Butch and Marsellus are tied up in the basement of the shop and a man named Zed shows up. The shop owner has a gimp in a box (all leathered up and everything) and other fetish things downstairs. After a quick game to pick who goes first, they take Marcellus into another room to rape him. Butch manages to escape and is running away...but he decides can’t leave somebody to be assaulted like that. He grabs a weapon from the shop and kills the shop owner and frees Marsellus from Zed. Marsellus is not happy and says he will go “medieval” on Zed and allows Butch to leave town. Butch collects his girlfriend and leaves immediately...

Flash back in time (we know this because Vincent is alive) to right after Vincent and Jules shoot the guys with the case. Another guy in the other room jumps out and unloads six rounds at the two and misses every shot. The hitman kill that man, but Jules is shaken and decides to give up the business. They take a fourth gut with them in the car to go back to see Marsellus. On the drive over, Vincent accidently shoots the passenger while going over a pothole. The inside of the car is absolutely covered in blood and brains, so the two have to find a safe house. They go to the home of Jimmie (Quentin Tarantino) who will help them but says they have to get out in a couple of hours before his wife gets home. They call Marsellus, who sends over a cleaner named Wolf (Harvey Keitel). They are able to get everything cleaned up in time and leave with the car and the body. Jules and Vincent have to change out of their bloody clothes and decide to take a cab out to a diner for some food before seeing Wallace.

The two are at a familiar looking diner discussing whether their survival was a miracle and whether Jules should quit. Vincent goes off to the bathroom and, while he is gone, Pumpkin and Honey Bunny from the beginning declare it a robbery and it is evident that we have circled in time back around to the beginning. The couple hold up the diner, but, when they get to Jules, he takes Pumpkin hostage and devises a plan for everybody to leave. Jules allows the couple to leave alive with all the wallets, then the two hitmen follow quickly behind them before any police can show up.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I put a spoiler warning at the top, but there is so much to this film that there is no way you could spoil everything. I find new things to enjoy about this movie each time that I watch it and the watch count has to be at least two dozen times at this point. This film is so rich with allusion and homage to movies of the past that you might never see everything. Tarantino is truly a lover of old films and he worked every reference he could into this film. This is truly like candy for a cinephile.

I have, however, had a love hate relationship with this movie: I love this movie and I hate it when people tell me it is too violent. There was a lot of negative response to the films toxic masculinity, romancing crime culture, incredible amount of swearing, drug use, extreme gun violence, and very adult themes. There is a very famous interview between Quentin Tarantino and Jan Wahl in which she accuses him of using excessive violence and he tells her it is because it is a lot of fun to watch. His stylistically gory violence stems from exploitation films of the past and there is an established audience that enjoys it. He makes his movies for himself and this group of people.

Kind of like the comedy of Eddie Murphy, Richard Pryor, and George Carlin, you have to wade through a sea of swearing to find the comedic banter. The things that Jules and Vincent say to each other are some of the funniest stuff I have ever heard, but you really have to pay attention. Their attempts to express their feelings while maintaining their hard exterior persona is ridiculous. This is probably why many people enjoy the scenes with Vincent and Mia: there is a lot more courtesy which reduces the tirade of cursing.

The violence is very very over the top, but it is no where near the level of gore that Tarantino has become known for over the years. I must admit that he likes his torture scenes and this film is no exception. I would like to note how clever the torture scene with Butch and Marsellus is because they are both tied up and facing camera so only the audience can see the mischief that is being prepared behind them.

The soundtrack for the film is well worth mentioning as it also pays homage to 50s, 60s, and 70s exploitations films. There is a lot of silence in the film with sudden bursts of fast paced music that help with transitions. Most famous is the intro music after diner prologue, a surf rock classic by Dick Dale and The Del Tones called Misirlou. It is pure speed guitar riff along the lines of Wipeout and transitions the scene perfectly. Take a listen for yourself:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZIU0RMV_II8

Maybe the biggest thing about this film and Tarantino in general is the inspiration of the slick gangster dialogue. There had been a push for more melodramatic dialogue or the complete absence of much talking. Tarantino added in this slick, fast moving comedic dialogue that is said over extreme violence and adult situations. Marsellus Wallace talks about having some crack heads torture a man to death immediately after being raped in a basement. The hitmen talk about appropriate manners while cleaning out brains from the back of a car. Jules talks about the meaning of the bible during a robbery. Everything seems out of place in the real world but perfectly acceptable in Tarantino’s world. This is probably why I have no problem with the violence in the film.

So should this film be on the AFI top 100? Absolutely. It is an homage to film history while simultaneously introducing a sub genre that mixes current dialogue and exploitation touches to grindhouse action. It is fascinating and fun. Would I recommend this movie? If you are old enough. I can’t emphasize enough how fun I find this film, but I cannot deny that it is filled with adult situations like drug usage followed by driving, secret dungeon rape, and cold blooded murder with no consequences. If you can differentiate between Tarantino’s world and the real world, then this is great. If you can’t, then maybe try something else with slick dialogue like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

#miserlou #pulp fiction #samuel l jackson #Quentin Tarantino #john travolta #violence #action #90s movies #academy award winner #dialogue #cinematography #introvert #introverts

20 notes · View notes

addictofsupernatural · 4 years ago

Text

Spidey Senses (pt. 6)

Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Having to keep up a lie is hard for Peter when you're trying to help him.

Word Count: 3366

Chapter 1 • Chapter 5

"What do you mean finally?! This is bad. Really, really bad Ned. I shouldn't be thinking about her like that!"

"Dude, it's your feelings. You're gonna feel whatever way you do. You can't control that stuff."

"But this could ruin our friendship. I don't want that." Peter whined over the phone as he put his hand over his eyes, laying on his bed.

"Or~ maybe this could all work and you could score a girlfriend." Ned suggested, amusement laced in his voice. "I mean, I didn't want to be the first one to say this, but..."

"What?"

"Let's just put it this way. She's always had a cute heart. Over time, her heart got cuter and went straight to making her face kinda hot."

"Ned." Peter frustratedly said.

Ned gave him a goofy laugh. "You sound like your getting jealous or something."

Peter quickly sat up. "Do you think that'll happen?"

"Probably." He said nonchalantly. "All seriousness Peter, you should go for it. I always thought you two would be good together. There's just something there, trust me. And hey, you two could be the amazing spider couple. That'd be awesome."

"Spider couple." He smiled and laid back down. "You think people would make that, like, a ship name for us?"

"Dude, you could have a super girlfriend. How awesome does that sound?!"

Peter let out a chuckle. "That does sound pretty cool. Okay, thanks for the therapy session. Night Ned."

"No problem. Night." And with that Peter stayed up to think about you some more.

The next week at school went horribly. All Peter wanted to do was spend more time with you, but you kept pushing him towards Liz at gym class and in Mathletes. He felt so jealous whenever he saw you goofing off with Ned. You were a very touchy person, and every warm hug to Ned felt like Peter's arms were getting colder.

When Liz was finally busy, he went over to you and sat a little closer to you than usual. "Hey Peter." You greeted brightly. "Any progress?"

"On what?" He asked dumbly.

"Liz." You said quietly.

"Oh!" He voice cracked and cleared his throat. "Oh. Um, not really. I think I'm done for the day."

"Aw, Peter!" You rubbed his arm. "You shouldn't give up on stuff that's important to you."

He sighed, glancing at Ned's confused face. "Can't I just spend the rest of the day with you?"

You smiled and nodded, patting his cheek gently. Peter's phone buzzed and it was a text message from Ned.

Not Guy in the Chair: Why didn't you tell her how you feel?

He glanced at you working on your notes.

SM: I don't want things to be weird.

Not Guy in the Chair: The truth will set you free 🕊️🕊️

SM: Shhhh

You then took out left over brownies for Peter. He gladly took one as Flash came over, taking one out of the container as well. "Hey babe."

"Don't touch my stuff and never call me that." You closed your container and put it in your backpack. "What do you want Flash?"

"Just making sure you got a hot outfit for the party. Finally gonna show some skin?"

"I do have a costume. Peter was with me when I got it too. We had a lot of fun." Peter looked at you and smiled.

Flash then rolled his eyes. "Really? How could anyone ever have fun with Penis Parker?"

"Well we do." You tugged each boy at your side into a side hug. "Do you have a special trio that would do anything for you?"

He nervously scoffed. "I have more than two friends. Does every friend seem special to you when you're not popular?"

"If you called one of your friends in the middle of the night and told them to come over cause you're sad, would any of them do it?" He was silent as he looked down. "That's a special friend. Now goodbye."

"Y'know—"

"Good. Bye." You pressed, frowning.

"I—"

"Dude," MJ interrupted. "Know when you've been beat. Walk away."

He then did so, stomping away. You smiled and looked over to MJ. "Why do we not talk to each other?"

"Cause you're a loser." She said, matter-of-factly.

Though Ned and Peter have her a confused frown, your smile only widened. "What are you?"

"Friendless."

"Not anymore!" You exclaimed. The teacher then announced that the club session just ended. "We'll see you at lunch tomorrow then."

She stared at you for a moment. "...Okay, I guess. Bye." You could tell that she held back a smile as you excitedly waved at her before packing up.

You and Peter were walking home, when he asked about MJ. "I don't know." You said, shrugging. "I just feel like she's cool. My spidey senses can feel it."

"You say that about everything." He laughed.

"Because I'm always right about everything. It's a given." He chuckled again. "C'mon, don't you ever have intensified feelings about some things or people?"

He awkwardly smiled and nodded, looking away from you. "More than I should." He mumbled.

"Hm?"

"I said I should hope so."

"Well then, see? I'm right again." You grinned.

"Did your spidey senses feel that too?"

"Yup." You both chuckled.

Over the next few days MJ began to directly hang out with you and the boys, and she said that she would be going to the party as well. "I don't believe in stereotyping geeks out of parties, which is why I'm supporting you guys tomorrow." She explained with an almost unnoticeable smile.

"So generous." You teased back, Ned and Peter smiling as well. "What'll you be going as?"

"Oh, I'll be going as part of the impartial generation of today." She gave a sly smile.

"Nice, nice." You nodded contently before Flash came up to your table again. "Holy crap man, are you sure you even have friends? Why do you keep bugging me?"

"Just wanted to see what the new member of the Penis Parker group was like." He then nodded to Mj, to which she didn't respond. He then rudely waved his hand over her face. "Hello?"

She backed her face up as you smacked his hand away. "Leave her alone."

"What? This is probably the most exciting thing to happen to her. It's not like you guys have interesting lives." You and Peter looked at each other. "I'm guessing that's a no?"

"Well Peter and y/n know Spiderman and Spidergirl!" Ned blurted out.

Flash then did a breathy, wheezing laugh. "Are you kidding me? How would they know them?"

"The Stark Internship!"

"Ned, stop talking." You mumbled. Ned nodded and put his head down. "We met them a few times, so we don't really know them or anything, and even if we did were aren't supposed to talk about it."

"Well Peter," he ignored you. "If you're actually cool then why don't you invite them the the party?"

"Cause we wouldn't want to waste their time by having them go to some fanboy's party." You argued, knowing Peter would choke up if he answered.

Flash shrugged it off. "That's what I thought." He said as he left.

The next day you were talking to Linda while in your costume with your mini backpack slung over your shoulder. She was telling you about the job interview she's getting and how she's saving up the money from Tony's watch to rent an apartment in the building you live it. "I'm so happy right now Linda! You could totally be one of those super nosey neighbors, and I would pretend to be okay with it!"

"That would be a dream come true." She said as you both turned your heads to see Peter coming, also dressed up. "Just a few years older, and I would totally go for that."

You sighed. "You're such a creeper Linda."

"And you should loosen up and be more of a creeper." You gave her a look, and she only shrugged. "Just saying. Press on and go for it."

"Hey guys." Peter greeted with a smile. "Everything okay?"

"Yup!" You hopped off the steps you were sitting on. "Let's go."

"Okay. Bye Linda." Peter politely waved.

"Don't acknowledge her Peter, it makes her weirder."

"Don't be jealous that I'm more fun." She called out, smiling.

Peter chuckled and tried to put his hands in his pockets, only for his hands to slip from there being none. He didn't know what to do with his free hand that wasn't carrying the shield. He probably looked so awkward in front of you right now. This was so nerve wracking.

"Peter calm down." You suddenly said, causing him to jump a little. "It's my first party too, but we got each other. And we know Ned's gonna be there to be a dork, and Mj will be there to remind us how stupid we look. It'll be great."

He nervously laughed, scratching his head. "Yeah, I guess." He then became nervous just thinking about what would happen if you discovered this crush, especially at the party with Flash. "Y/n, what do you see in men?"

The question was unexpected, and your face felt like it was in flames. "What would you ask that?"

"Just wondering. I don't think I've ever seen you flirt with someone." He mentally sighed at the save.

"Mm, I guess he has to be nice, for starters. I'd want him to make me laugh, and care about me. I don't know, that's really it."

"Really? Only that?"

"Yeah?"

"Nothing with looks, or..."

"Peter!" You lightly smacked his arm and giggled. "You know I don't care about that stuff."

"You care about your own looks." He said quietly.

"That's different though." You grinned and tugged on his wrist. "We're here. C'mon."

Ned was waiting on the steps, looking up at you two in major relief. "Guys, tell me you brought the suits."

You both nodded. "Our suits aren't party tricks." You said. "This feels way too wrong."

"Yeah, I'm with y/n. Those suits are worth way too much to use for something like this." Peter added.

"Only for a few minutes. This is our chance for Flash to stop messing with us." Ned whined.

You huffed. "Okay, but only if Flash is being extra annoying."

The three of you walked inside and saw Flash trying to be a DJ, playing some basic techno music. He saw the three of you, and brought out his mic. "Hey Penis Parker, where's your superhero friends? That's not Spiderman, that's Ned in a onesie."

People began laughing, and you pursed your lips. "I'll be right back."

You left and went behind a building, opening your backpack and quickly changing into your hero outfit. You took a deep breath, and was about to swing in when you got a call from Peter.

"Dude, tell me she's doing it." You could hear Ned say.

"I don't know, I'm gonna ask her. Y/n?"

"Yeah?" You laughed out.

"Did you really put it on?"

"Yeah. Are you gonna join me or do you just want me to do it?"

"This doesn't feel right."

"Peter doesn't know what he's saying." Ned called out in a child-like tone.

"Ned's being mean to me." Peter responded in the same tone.

You giggled. "Look guys, I don't feel great about it, but Flash needs to be knocked down a peg. It hurts to see him treat you guys like crap. This is just gonna be a one time thing, right?"

"Right." Peter confirmed.

Ned remained silent, but Peter nudged him. He huffed. "Right."

"Okay, I'll be down in a bit." You then ended the call.

"So, I've been meaning to ask," Ned said. "But why does y/n still think you like Liz? I thought you were gonna tell her yesterday."

"I didn't know how to tell her the truth! I panicked!"

"You're hopeless." Mj said as she walked up to the two boys. "What happened to y/n?"

"She went to go get Spidergirl." Ned nodded for way to long as he said this.

"Wait," She looked genuinely surprised. "So you guys, like, actually know the Spider heros?"

"What was that?" Flash asked over his mic. "Is Penis Parker actually going to bring Spiderman and Spidergirl here?"

"Actually, um, Spiderman couldn't make it." Peter said before clearing his throat awkwardly. "But Spidergirl said she'd make an appearance."

Flash obnoxiously laughes into the mic. "Can anybody believe this guy?"

You then swung in. "I do." You raised your hand playfully as everyone began cheering. "You guys were expecting me, right?"

Everyone cheered again. "Oh my God." Flash said in a high pitched manner.

You grabbed Ned by the shoulders. "It's Ned, right?" You asked over the music, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I've heard good things about you."

"All true." He showed his goofy smile.

You patted his cheek. "I bet!" You turned and walked over to Peter, giving him a big hug. He returned it, finding the hug oddly comforting considering everyone was staring. "Peter! It's been a bit, huh?"

He awkwardly chuckled. "Yeah. Thanks for coming."

"Of course! When I heard from SM that the Peter Parker finally had time for a party, I knew I had to come and see it for myself! Maybe my partner could join in next time, yeah?"

"We... Um..." He kept doing his little pant–laugh thing that he does when he doesn't know what to say. "Yeah."

You moved over to look at Mj. "You go by Mj, right?" She nodded. "Y/n tells me you're super opinionated and awesome."

She smiled and shrugged, tucking back some hair. "I just kinda say whatever comes to mind. I don't really think before I talk sometimes."

You tapped her chin. "I love it. Never change." You then clapped your hands. "Now! Where's Flash Thompson?"

Everyone pointed to Flash, who quickly turned down the music. You swung to him quickly and caused him to back up into a small table, awkwardly steadying it. "H... Hi."

"Hi Flash. I wanted to let you know that me and Spiderman keep tabs on our friends, to make sure they're okay. We're pretty protective, y'know?"

"Yeah, yeah. I totally get that." He kept awkwardly nodding.

You nodded and patted his cheek. "I knew you would, so I need you to keep an eye on Peter and Ned while me and SM can't. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, yes I can. I could do anything for you."

"Thank you Flash." You patted his arm, to which he looked at his arm in amazement. "Amazing. Okay, I gotta go. But remember, I keep tabs on your school, so I'll be watching!"

You then walked around for a bit taking pictures and talked to some people. You suddenly felt goosebumps all over and excused yourself, flying out and looking around. You saw a small blue explosion in the distance and quickly texted Peter.

He came as soon as he could and you explained the situation. Unbeknownst to the two of you, Mj noticed Peter leave quickly after you did. She also noticed that you weren't in sight while Spidergirl was here.

"Okay, okay. I, I need to change!" He then quickly took off his shirt and started unbuckling his pants, looking up to you dumbly staring at him. "Uh..."

"Sorry!" You quickly turned around and look off your mini backpack, plopping it down next to yourself. It had Peter's suit folded inside. "That was partially not my fault. You gotta warn somebody before you start stripping next time."

"Next time?" He asked teasingly. "You say it like you want it to happen again."

Truth be told, neither of you knew where this new found confidence of Peter came from to tease you like that. It was almost like he was flirting. You liked it though; it was as if he was becoming more confident and mature with himself.

Your face was hot as you grinned at the ground. "Well, you gotta pay for whatever expensive college you're gonna get into somehow. And I'll come visit at the strip club to support my best friend."

He hugged you with one arm from behind. "So supportive. Maybe the reason I'm a stripper is to support the both of us."

You chuckled and rubbed his arm. "My hero."

He turned you around and handed you your backpack. "This is a cool backpack, by the way. I like the mini things of Thor."

"Thank you." You said, awkwardly taking the backpack. "Now let's go."

Neither of you could get some webbing to hold onto any tree in the area, so instead you both ran across a whole field, looking kind of comical. By the time you two got there this one man was showing another some high tech weapons. You were getting closer to listen in, and it sounded like the guy wasn't interested in what the others were trying to sell.

"Why you trying to upsell me man?"

The other two guys didn't like this, and were slowly getting angrier. You tried to get closer, but Peter's phone went off from Ned calling him. You both hid as Peter fumbled to end the call, and the two merchants assumed the buyer was setting them up because of the noice. In an instant there were two guns pointed at the buyer.

"Woah, woah!" You yelled as you and Peter came out, hands up. "C'mon guys, I promise he wasn't turning his back on you two. And I'm a good guy; good guys don't lie."

"Really, if you guys are gonna shoot at anybody, shoot at me." Peter said with seriousness. "I'm the real threat."

The two guys looked at each other and pointed their guns at the both of you. "Okay."

You both dodged their shots and flung their guns away with your webs. You tried to shoot at the wheels of the car but the man with an electric glove shot at you, causing you to fling back. You noticed that the buyer hesitated to go and help you, but decided not to and instead hopped in his car and drove away.

When you got up they were getting in the car so you and Peter shot a web to the door. The door broke off, but Peter shot another web to the car to have you two ride the door.

"Hey, I got a really stupid idea!" You yelled out as the guy in the back of the van was reaching for a gun.

"Go for it!" The van hit a sharp turn, and you took this as chance to let go of the door and leap to a tree, using your strength to push and dive head first into the van.

"Woah, I did it!" The shocker guy tried to punch you with his electric glove, but you dodged it. "Someone's bitter!"

You began to go on a defensive position and dodge his contact hits and fires in the narrow van, until Peter shot a web at him that pinned one of his hands to the side of the van. He used the other hand to shoot at Peter, blasting him into a backyard.

"I'm okay!" You heard him yell out from a distance.

You slammed the shocker guy to the ground and pinned his hands and feet to the ground. You stood and shot web to cover his mouth as well. "That was a pretty rude thing to do, but I guess two v one isn't fair. Then again, you're are a bad guy."

You remembered that you had your backpack on this whole time, and took it off to hug it.

"Mh. Once again, Thor backpack comes in clutch. Odinson, you can me do no wrong." You opened your backpack and put some small weapons in it, zipping it up and putting it back on. You looked outside before turning around to talk to the man pinned on the ground. "I wonder where Spiderman went. It's all good though, I'll stop the car—"

You were cut off by something grabbing you and yanking you back. You yelped as you were whipped into this huge lake. The water hit you painfully and you began to see spots, seeing a flash of a man with mechanical wings. You almost didn't feel something bring you up.

"Thanks ma..." You looked up and winced. What was carrying you was the Iron Man suit. "Uh oh."

"I have some words for you two."

---

Tag List:

@flawlessapollo6 @them-cute-boys @lunawndrlnd @the-greatt-perhaps @babebenhardy @sofisofi1602 @smilexcaptainx @herondalism @coni-martina @youvebeenlizzed @melanisticroyalty

#mcu peter parker #marvel peter parker #peter parker marvel #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x superhero!reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #tom holland spiderman #spiderman #spiderman x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x reader

61 notes · View notes

zackcollins · 4 years ago

Text

i still love you || matthew tkachuk

masterlist

Author’s Note: I was listening to the radio yesterday and a song came on that gave me massive Matty vibes. I decided to go for it and write a fic based on the song because everyone probably still needs something to decompress with. The fic is a little bit different than the song but it still has the basic premise of the lyrics; hope that’s okay! GIF credit to matthewtkafuck!

Warnings: I don’t think anything is worth a warning but let me know if I’m wrong. I’ll gladly add whatever it is you think needs one!

Word Count: 1.8k+

Title/Based On: Austin by Blake Shelton

Additional: The reader can be implied to be feminine because of a couple of situations that I’m not going to spoil. As for one of the name of one of the characters I used in the fic. I named the character after the girl in The Reklaws since they came on the radio when I needed a name for the character. Hope that’s okay and I hope you guys enjoy this!

You had come home from work in the worst mood you could possibly imagine. Every one of your coworkers and a majority of the customers had tried your patience. You were ready to go on a destructive rampage through the neighbourhood by the time you pulled into the apartment complex parking garage.

When you walked into your apartment, you could hear your boyfriend, Matthew, playing a video game. By the sounds of it, it was Call of Duty because you could hear him talking to someone. You rolled your eyes as you walked into the living room. Your suspicions were confirmed when you saw Matthew wearing his headset and caught a glimpse of the zombies on the screen.

Matthew nodded to acknowledge you, smiling when you placed a kiss to his forehead. He quickly pushed you aside; you guessed it was because of the voice you heard screaming in his ear about the zombies approaching him. You huffed and sat on the couch beside him. You tried to lean onto Matthew for comfort but he shrugged you off of him and looked at you sternly. Your stomach twisted angrily as a feeling of hurt washed over you.

“I need to leave, Matt,” you said.

Matthew raised an eyebrow as he looked at you. He pressed the button on his headset to mute his microphone. “I’ll get the car keys. We can go to the movies or something.” He unmuted his microphone and told whoever he was playing with that he needed to leave for the time being. Matthew powered the Xbox off before sliding his headset off and placing it on the coffee table. He stood up and turned to head toward the foyer to grab his keys.

You sighed, grabbing Matthew’s forearm. Matthew stopped and looked at you. He furrowed his brows and frowned when he saw the distraught look on your face. “No, I need to leave.”

“Oh. Uh…” Matthew dropped his arm from your grasp, sitting back on the couch, and grabbing your hands. You wanted to protest but you were too stressed to put up a fight. “Is there any reason?”

“I just need to clear my mind,” you said, squeezing Matthew’s hands weakly.

Matthew hummed, running his thumbs across your knuckles. You shivered and felt a sudden wave of emotions wash over you. You suddenly felt guilty for doing this but you knew it had to be done; this was what you felt was best for you right now.

You looked at Matthew with hopeful eyes and he smiled back softly. He took one of his hands away from your hand, using it to cup your chin. Matthew leaned in at the moment, pressing a quick goodbye kiss to your lips. You were beyond crushed when it was over. A part of you wanted your last kiss to mean something more; the other part of you was glad it was over quickly. You didn’t think you would be able to hold it together if it got more meaningful.

Dropping Matthew’s other hand, you looked at him with a painful expression. Matthew looked back, his eyes matching your pained gaze. You sighed, stood up, and walked down the hallway to what used to be yours and Matthew’s bedroom.

In the bedroom, you went through your dresser and placed your clothes and some toiletries into a couple of suitcases. You wanted to grab as much as you could before you got cold feet and decided to stay.

It took fifteen minutes but you eventually had accumulated enough contents in both suitcases to be able to drag them out of the bedroom. When you appeared back in front of Matthew, he looked shocked to see the suitcases.

“Fuck,” Matthew said, running a hand through his hair. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

All you could do was nod. You walked to the door of the apartment, looking back at Matthew. You felt your heart shatter when you saw the defeated expression on Matthew’s face. You wanted to turn around and run into Matthew’s arms; you wanted to stay here with Matthew. You knew you couldn’t because you had to take some time to clear your mind and figure out what you really wanted with your life before you continued this--or any--relationship.

You waved briefly to Matthew before you walked out of the door and out on the relationship you had spent three years building.

Ever since you had left your shared apartment that night, you had avoided watching any of Matthew’s pre-, mid-, or post-game interviews. You didn’t want to make the ache in your heart bigger.

You finally broke down and called him about a year after you had moved out, deciding you couldn’t bear the separation any longer. The phone rang times before it went to Matthew’s voicemail. You sighed and were about to hang up when the voicemail message started playing.

“I sold the car. I’m bowling if it’s Tuesday. If you’re selling something, I’m not buying it. If it’s important, wait for the tone; you know what to do. P.S. If this is (Y/N), I still love you.”

The phone fell from your grasp, landing on the counter with a thunk. Hearing that last line made your heart rate speed up and your head swim. You couldn’t believe that Matthew would hold on to his love for you for this long. You wanted to call right back but knew that would do no good; if Matthew didn’t answer the first time, he probably wouldn’t answer the second time.

Instead, you picked up the phone and opened your photo gallery. You opened the album you had made for pictures of you and Matthew together. You skimmed through them, stopping to closely examine your favourite ones.

As you looked at them, you felt your eyes beginning to well with tears. The longer you looked at the pictures, the closer you were getting to crying. When you got to the last picture of you and Matthew, you allowed the tears to stream down your face. The picture was of you and Matthew holding one of his teammate’s children. You inhaled shakily before sliding off the barstool you were sitting on.

You walked down the hallway and into the bedroom beside the bathroom. You walked across the room and bent over the crib, looking in on your daughter. She was sleeping soundly, thumb in her mouth. You took your phone and snapped a quick picture of her and saved it in the album you had created for her.

You leaned down and kissed your daughter’s forehead, sighing softly as soon as you stood back up. You leaned against the wall behind the crib, crossing your arms over your chest. Letting out a shaky sigh, you squeezed your eyes shut.

“You look just like your father.”

After sitting and stewing about it, you decided to try and call Matthew again after three days. You owed it to him to tell him that he had a daughter, even if nothing came of the relationship between the two of you. He deserved to at least have a relationship with his daughter.

Much like three days prior, the phone rang three times before going to voicemail. When the voicemail message played, you were surprised to see that Matthew had taken the time to change what it had said.

“I’m playing hockey if it’s Friday. I’m going fishing first thing Saturday morning, so long as it doesn’t rain. I’ll be gone for the whole weekend. If you leave your number, I’ll call you back when I return on Sunday afternoon. P.S. If this is (Y/N), I still love you.”

All you left was your number. You felt like spilling your guts about the fact that Matthew had a daughter over voicemail wasn’t the right thing to do. You felt that was to be discussed when Matthew was able to respond during an actual conversation.

As the days went on, you were anxiously waiting for Sunday afternoon. You had deep cleaned your apartment three different times in an attempt to keep your mind occupied. You had also taken your daughter to your usual Saturday afternoon ‘mommy and me’ baby aerobics class but it felt tense this time. No matter how hard you tried to relax, you couldn’t. Every one of your thoughts was focused on waiting for Matthew to call you back.

When Sunday afternoon finally came, you had almost forgotten about the fact that Matthew was supposed to call. That was evident by the fact that you were in the middle of changing your daughter when your phone rang. When you pulled your phone out of your pocket, you nearly had a heart attack when you saw the caller ID. It was Matthew calling. You accepted the call.

“If you’re calling about my heart,” you said, taking a breath to stabilize your voice. “It still belongs to you. I should’ve listened to what it was telling me. Then it wouldn’t have taken me so long to know where I belong.” You paused again, trying to see if you could gauge a reaction from Matthew. His end of the line seemed completely quiet, so you continued talking. “And by the way, this isn’t the voicemail. This is (Y/N). And I still love you. So does your daughter.”

You heard Matthew choke on some air as he started spluttering to breathe. It took a few moments but he eventually regained his composure enough to form coherent words.

“I have a daughter?!” He asked, voice hoarse.

“Yes,” you replied. “Her name is Jenna.”

Matthew inhaled sharply. “Can I see a picture of her?”

Instead of answering, you pressed a button to switch the call to a video call. Matthew accepted the video call request but had a confused look on his face. It shifted to understanding when you moved your phone to show the face of your daughter. It quickly shifted to something heartwarming after that.

“She…” Matthew said, motioning around her face. “She looks just like me.” His voice was small, almost tentative.

“Yeah, I know,” you replied, sighing shakily.

“Jenna?” Matthew said. Jenna immediately took attention to the fact that her name had been called. “It’s daddy, sweetheart. Hi. How’re you?” Jenna giggled and tried to reach for the phone, a gigantic smile on her face.

You felt your heartbeat sputter at what you had just witnessed. It was the most precious thing you could imagine for the first ‘meeting’ between Matthew and Jenna.

“Where do you live now?” Matthew asked, drawing you out of your thoughts. “The team has our bye week after the game tomorrow. I can visit you and Jenna during it.”

“I’m in Yellowknife,” you said.

“Alright. I’ll get the first flight from Calgary to Yellowknife after the game.”

You felt tears falling from the corners of your eyes. You wiped them away as you looked between Matthew and Jenna. Matthew noticed the tears and exhaled softly.

“Our family is finally going to be together,” Matthew said, running a hand through his hair. “That’s a good thing, (Y/N).” You got too hung up on the fact that he said ‘our’ to respond.

If he really thought like that after having only known about his daughter for ten minutes, you were blessed to have Matthew back in your life.

86 notes · View notes

pebblysand · 4 years ago

Text

OF CRYSTAL ROSES (EXTENDED AUTHOR’S NOTE OF CHAPTER VI. OF CASTLES)

-- TO READ THE CHAPTER ITSELF, SEE HERE ON AO3 --

well, well, well. here we are. spoiler alert, gryffindors make plans they don’t stick to, lolz. all the good intentions in the world, i had. study, i said i would. yet, here were find ourselves, eighteen thousand words later. this appears to be how i roll. slept about five hours last night, too, so apologies if i’m slightly non-sensical/rambly. this chapter ought to be sponsored by deliveroo and teapigs tea, a brand of tea that appeared in my local supermarket a few moths ago and that i steadily refused to buy because - can tea really be worth this much? low and behold, once you’ve tried it once, it appears to be addictive. i’ve, while writing this chapter, worked my way through about four packs of their different teas - they are just this good. i have a job interview tomorrow so wish me luck in gaining employment which will hopefully fund my expensive habits.

now, before we get into the nitty gritty of the chapter, itself, i just needed to say this: i cannot thank everyone enough for the incredible response on last chapter. i’d kind of grown accustomed to getting a couple of reviews for each of them and to writing in my little corner of the internet but boy, you guys are bloody legends! i am so overwhelmed with gratitude for everyone who commented, kudo-ed and generally gave love to this fic in general. i really didn’t expect such a response and it’s meant the world to me. i think it’s probably also the reason why i’m posting so early because i kept being like, god, i can’t leave this many people waiting in this cliffhanger hell. i think this chapter ends on a more positive note (although, i’ll let you judge), one that might be more conducive of a few weeks’ wait (more on that below), haha.

this being said, as i explained on here before, i come from very tiny fandoms where basically everyone knows each other and the number of people reading would usually fit in my flat. the fact that over 80 people are now subscribed to this fic just blows my fucking mind. you’re all magnificent and i love you. i try to respond to all the comments so let’s keep chatting if you feel like it (although, no pressure - comment if you want to, but do know that it makes me very happy when you do :)). you’re all fabulous and i wish you all the best!

anyway, spoilers for castles, chapter vi under the cut.

guys, guys, guys, i am so tired. i’ve spent four days editing almost 20,000 words and my brain is fried. but, we are officially at the halfway point of this story, yaaaay!!! my plan, at this point, is that we’ll have six chapters on each side but even if i do end up splitting this one later (more on this below) i’ll end up with seven chapters on each side so either way - yay to the end of act 1!

i think that’s also why i tried to turn this chapter around this quickly. to me, i always kind of saw this fic as having two parts. part 1: the immediate post-war aftermath with the heartache and the love-fast/burn-fast start to harry/ginny. part 2: a slow and actually healthy rebuild of their relationship, and of the world around them. i have genuinely been writing towards that last harry/ginny scene in this chapter for months. it feels like such a relief to finally have that weight off my shoulders. and i actually do think it’ll allow me to focus on study later. act one is finished, and act two can wait a bit, i suppose.

now, obviously, given that i already apologised last time, part of me still wants to apologise for the length of this chapter, even more so, actually. it sits at about 18,000 words which, by nanowrimo’s standards, is over a third of a full book, wtf. yet, you guys also said last time that you didn’t actually mind long chapters, so perhaps i shouldn’t beat myself up too much?

as i said in the a/n, this is a little bit of different set up than chapter v. though. i know exactly where to split this. as you’ve probably seen by now, there’s a very natural split point after harry has his breakdown on the couch with ginny, before Christmas properly "starts." the reason i didn’t split this one there, though is: a) selfish: i needed to get this out. stop working on it. i need to study. when it’s out, i’m not thinking about it anymore. it would have been a bit non sensical to split this just for the sake of it and post two chapters at once, which means i probably would have held onto the second part for another couple of weeks, and fuck that. additionally, b) you may not have noticed this but: the chapter titles rhyme. why did i bring this additional difficulty upon myself, i do not fucking know. especially because i will soon run out of one-word construction materials to draw from, lol. as a result, though, i need an even number of chapters to close out this story and because i’m sort of planning six chapters from now to the end (more on that below) i can’t really split this one right now. like, if i end up with another overlong chapter in the next few months, i probably will take that opportunity and go back and split this one, just for readability. but at this stage, at this stage, because i don’t know how many chapters i’ll have for act two (six or seven), i’m keeping this chapter like this for the time being. i kind of hope i end up with seven chapters on the other side and am able to split this one down the line, but we will see. in the meantime, my most sincere apologies to the folks who read fanfiction before bed and it’s now 4 am by the time you’ve finished this. i’ve been there before, believe me.

from a personal standpoint, though, i have to say, this chapter (compared to the last one) was incredibly easy to write. i think i’d spent so much time imagining and writing these scenes in my head as kind of a culminating point for the first half of the story, that it quite simply poured out. i did have a little bit of an everything is shit crisis yesterday and today, but sure look, that always happens. overall, i am quite happy - i think - with the end result.

now, when i say "easy to write" i mean, technically, easy to find words to write down what was in my head. i do not mean: easy to write on an emotional level. oh boy. i’m generally not a crier. i have been asked, a number of times, by people who said my writing made them cry: do you cry when you write, too? and my answer was always ‘no’. i don’t judge, but i’m just not that kind of person. i know people who cry every day but personally, we are in the middle of a pandemic, my father recently passed away, i’ve lost my job and am studying for an exam my life is pretty dependent upon, and i haven’t cried in months. yet, i swear, there were a couple of times, both writing this and editing it, when i had to step away from the screen because i could feel a lump in my throat. that had never happened to me before. i didn’t, like, bawl or anything but god i felt it. i don’t know if it’s because it’s my first time killing an oc, someone who was really mine but boy. giulia. i kept trying to find ways not to kill her, or apologising to her. to me, she’s tom’s last victim and that really, fucking hurts. if you’re hurting too, i don’t really know what to tell you. i’m sorry, i suppose. her death was needed for … plot purposes, lol. god, i’m the worst haha.

re:harry/ginny: i must say i really like where they end up, at the end of this. i had planned this to a certain extent. i was always under the impression that they would talk over christmas, but not get back together. however, the reason why they weren’t getting back together, in my head, was initially quite different. i initially didn’t have ginny dating someone else. i think i mentioned i was toying with the idea in the a/n for last chapter, but at the time i wasn’t truly sold on it. then, i ended up writing the scene i’d originally planned for them and it didn’t quite fit. what i’d planned, at the time, felt rather ooc for ginny when actually on paper. on the other hand, harry, under my fingertips, kept trying to kiss her and i kept hitting the delete button. i swear, i know it sounds weird to people who might not be writers but sometimes, your characters really do seem to have their own agendas. when i caved, let him kiss her, then the scene took on a different meaning, and, i hope, a better one. i think something clicked there and it feels like a good place for act one to end. obviously, they’ll get back together cause this follows cannon so you know, not much suspense there. it’s more about the how than the what, to me.

re:ginny’s letters: this idea came to me a while ago, actually. i was thinking that they’d need to talk about what happened last year, but i was kind of struggling on the how. having character a tell a story to character b is always a bit difficult, in writing, because it can quickly end up being boring. like, when ginny tells harry about christmas last year and lupin, in this chapter, telling that in dialogue is already rather long an laborious, and it’s overall such a short story. for harry, it’s easy. i’m in his head so he can just say ‘he told her about the hallows’ and the dialogue can be about their reaction, rather than the events itself. but ginny, she needs to share facts, as well as feelings. and doing that through long monologues just didn’t appeal. first, it’s quickly boring and second, it’s also kind of ooc. she’s not giulia, you see.

i did entertain the idea of completely skimming past it. ‘she told him about last year and he was horrified.’ - moving on. but, i don’t know, that didn’t feel quite right either, because i think they need to exchange, and talk, and that just felt like a copout. also, to be honest, it’s a very difficult story to tell. like, i’ve seen people in fics being like ‘so, harry sat down all of the weasleys and told them everything the trio did in seventh year,’ and i’m like that’s so difficult, though. sitting someone down and telling them all about your trauma, with little preamble, just setting it all out there, i can’t imagine ginny (or, frankly, most people) actually doing that, you know? we reveal bits of ourselves bit by bit, not all at once.

then, it hit me: she’s a writer, isn’t she? at least, she is canonically in first year, with not only the diary but also the poems, then writing for the prophet. obviously, the diary thing would have riled her up a bit but i do think in the end, she would probably have been like: no, i won’t let him take writing away from me, you know? so yeah, letters. daily letters. you won’t see all of them in next chapter, but probably quotes from the most important ones, things that harry reads. that’s where he gets his facts about her story last year, and then they can focus on their feelings about it. fab! something to look forward to, haha.

now, re: the future. as i said, we are entering act two. act two will gradually become more "fun" and fluffy, i suppose, but i won’t lie, we will be keeping the same happy/sad vibe that a lot of you have commented on with this fic. it exists for a reason (as i said, life is about sex, but it’s also about funerals). as i said before, this fic is, above all, an exploration of what ‘all was well’ actually means.

this being said, this isn’t an 8th year fic. there is a very specific future pov from which this fic is being narrated, and that’s in october 2027 (i know, precise). obviously i have 28 years to get through in act two so that will affect the way that the timeline is designed. it will obviously be more spread out, especially in the later chapters. this being said, while i have about a million of ideas for all the space in between and a very clear view of what the last chapter will be, the exact layout of each chapter is still slightly blurry. i haven’t sat down to put all my ideas in chronological order yet, as well as into some sort of chapter structure, which is also why i can’t really tell if it’ll be six or seven chapters in the end. all of this to say, there’s still quite a bit of work to be done.

this means that, as i said in the a/n, i don’t think you’ll get next chapter until at least, may. please don’t think that this means i’ll be abandoning this fic or anything, it’s just that i’ll be doing work you probably won’t see. i’m probably going to take the rest of march off writing to study (bar maybe a roar-series Harry&Hermione friendship one shot? maybe) then take april to plan and write as much of the next chapters i possibly can. ideally, by the end of april i can have a first draft of the whole thing. i desperately want to write as much as i can now that I’m jobless in the hopes that when i do find a job (again, interview tomorrow, pray for me), i can just have editing to do at the weekends. but we all know i relate to harry on a very deep level when he says ‘when have our plans ever worked, anyway?’ so we will see, haha.

anyway, these were all the thoughts off the top of my head, re: this chapter. if you have any questions or other things you’d like me to ramble about, feel free to send in questions, my ask box is always open. i know i probably think about this fic (and hp) way too much but i’m an extrovert and my hobbies used to include travelling, pints at the pub, dating and, well, there’s none of that anymore, is there, lol? the uk has stolen our vaccines (fucking brexit) so here’s to being obsessed with fictional worlds i wish i could live in for a while longer,

i will now go and endlessly refresh my email for reviews and kudos, like the attention seeking basic bitch i am haha.

have a fab evening, everyone!

#castles #is out baby #whoop whoop

6 notes · View notes

hockeysweetheart · 4 years ago

Photo

District 1 Luxury.

District 1 is part of the Careers along side of District 2 and 4. They get fed better. Treated better And train prior games. but they still have to put there children’s names in the reaping bowl. District 1 is a step under 2. As the Capitol liking them. Which says a lot because District 1 is the Reason for their Luxury items. Which if you know anything about the citizens of the Capitol they are over the top in Luxury....

Now It’s known that within the districts they are not allowed to use they don’t have access to it all. Like In 12. They are not allowed to eat from the Harvest and 12 the coal is not all for them. So I am sure in 1 they have the luxury life style but not as much as the Capitol gets...

Now here is the most intresting fact of all of this. District 1 was one of the first Districts to join into the second rebellion... like They had every reason to Hate Katniss who’s the face. Becuase she killed both of their Tributes last games and The male tribute in the 75th Games. ( As we find out the district’s really started war with the Capitol). And plus with their relationship with the Capitol. you would think they would be a hard one to get on the rebels side. And they were a part of the group don’t tell a soul to. That the break out is happeing.

Now during the war however they stay low. Basically cut off the capitol from them we are on the Mockingjay’s side.

Okay I think that District 1 is the sneakest of all. They played Snow’s Game. Showed him I am on your side. Waiting for the Bomb to drop to turn against the Capitol. I am damn sure nobody was a fan of the Captiol’s control we can kill your children with no say. But they also had a ton experence with Winning to. and knowing the true Price of a Victor.

This one quote really did make me think. ( It’s after Katniss Finds out the real price that she was spared from). After Finnick tells what happened to him and Katniss asked Haymitch is that what happened to you and this is Haymitch’s reply ...

"Oh, no. I was the example. The person to hold up to the young Finnicks and Johannas and Cashmeres.

He didn’t say Enobaria or Gloss. No He said Cashmere’s name only. from the higher arch Career Districts. (Yes I know 4 is a part of that but they were a part of the pack without being a part of the pack if you know what I mean).

"President Snow used to...sell me...my body, that is," Finnick begins in a flat, removed tone. "I wasn't the only one. If a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them for an exorbitant amount of money. If you refuse, he kills someone you love. So you do it."

But Cashmere is from District 1... But with Snow no one is safe. But she is a part of the whole Capitol-leaves-us-alone-because-we-do-what-they-say and you give us a life of Luxury in return. What did she do to make Snow want to turn her into a slave and sold.

Now is the reason why District 1 started to turn against the Capitol. I mean they played the whole being a threat to the rest of Panem real well.

Now This is noted. Of how pissed off Cashmere and Gloss are to go back into the area.

"Make him pay for it, okay?" she says.

I nod, but I don't know what she means. Not until we're all sitting out onstage and Caesar Flickerman, hair and face highlighted in lavender this year, has done his opening spiel and the tributes begin their interviews. This is the first time I realize the depth of betrayal felt among the victors and the rage that accompanies it. But they are so smart, so wonderfully smart about how they play it, because it all comes back to reflect on the government and President Snow in particular. Not everyone. There are the old throwbacks, like Brutus and Enobaria, who are just here for another Games, and those too baffled or drugged or lost to join in on the attack. But there are enough victors who still have the wits and the nerve to come out fighting. Cashmere starts the ball rolling with a speech about how she just can't stop crying when she thinks of how much the people in the Capitol must be suffering because they will lose us. Gloss recalls the kindness shown here to him and his sister

Now I have to give it to District 1 of how Clever they were to play it.

Dispite not knowing the Rebel plot they were almost in a way willing to die for Katniss. ( Even tho she killed Gloss). But they never attacked Katniss. Sure they Killed Wiress. But if they had deep roots of Hating they would of attempted for her. I don’t think they are brainwashed Capitol lovers. No I think they give Snow what he wanted to show Hey look I am keeping my half of the deal. But without Killing the one thing Snow wants dead but still playing the games for all it’s worth.

And In the Hunger Games. Maybe the Tributes say something In Katniss that they knew. She is gonna change this world. She’s gotta win. Glimmer. Poorly shot the Arrow and gave up after a first chance let Cato climb that tree. And I do think she could of easily booked it after the tracker jacker nest was fallen on her. ( Now no one knew she had the weapon that Katniss was after). But maybe When she Shot the first Arrow she saw a look in Katniss’s eyes. I need the bows. ( But it was like she was Protecting the Bow and Arrows for Katniss in a way).

Okay Marvel Killing Rue was A low blow. Here is me Looking the good in everyone. Perhaps he was trying to warn Katniss they are closer then you think. and Killed Rue in the process. okay Unlikely. Anyone noticed how Distirct 2 took the credit for Rues death. But again. Sure it was frowned upon everyone Killing the yougest one.... But he did miss hitting Katniss tho. And this happened without District 2 in sight.

The Alliance with Distirct 2. Prob under the simular agreement. Sure I will show you my worth. I will play the cards right. But I do it my way. Sure I may look like I am on your side. But your a fool for that. Be like I am basically safe because I am killing people I am showing you look what I can do. But at the same time playing the oh I cannot do that.

Now why didn’t they just kill 2 to get over it...based on their track record they are the deadliest ones in the area. is it becuase District 1 is like i will do this and that but all died in the process. is it because they wanted to warm up then stab in the back. but it was too soon. Because they are not blammed if it comes down to two careers for the crown. To kill the other. Maybe frowned upon in the Districts. Because for future Tributes.They got to keep the Career pack for years to come I guess. And District 1 knows damn well they are under 2 as for the Captiol loving them.

If you have anything else to add to this feel free.

All are my opinions what I feel.

#THG #The Hunger Games #Hunger Games #catchingfire #catching fire #mockingjay #cashmere #gloss #glimmer #marvel #district 1 #luxury #cf #theory

13 notes · View notes

someonexsomeone · 5 years ago

Text

Oddjob!Mark

Guide for the wildlife tours

He’s always been fascinated with animals, ever since he was a kid

His parents thought they nailed it with his birthday present on his 10th birthday, a dog that was full of energy, but Mark thought it was just...okay

Not that he didn’t love his dog

Of course he loved it with all his heart

But it wasn't...a tiger, a lion, a bear (oh my!)

Mark went through all the phases a kid goes through - pirate, cowboy, princess, athlete - but nothing really stuck

That is, until, he went into the third grade and his teacher had a collection of books on safari animals

There was just something about them that enamoured Mark to the extent that everything in his life was revolved around the jungles and deserts that inhabited creatures of every kind

From that day forward, Mark knew he wanted to grow up and work with animals

For a while, Mark thought he wanted to be a veterinarian

Got as far as college before he realized that he really couldn’t handle being around sad and sick animals

(and really couldn’t stomach the thought of having to tell someone their pet has passed away)

So he dropped out of that, much to his parents dismay, and transferred to a safer business major

Turns out, he has all the charm for presentations, but absolutely no idea when it came to delivering numbers

Math in high school was fun for him, but how the heck was he supposed to prove this product was worth it based on calculations alone?

His advisor was kind enough and sat down with him for over an hour trying to figure out a good major for him, one that was connected to animals

Unfortunately, zoology was ruled out pretty quick as Mark detested the idea of having to stay in school long enough for a PhD

By some stroke of luck, Mark was finally able to pick communications as a degree

He loved his classes, his natural charisma really coming in handy

He also, accidently, completed both a history and environmental studies minor by simply taking all the classes on animals that he could find

It was a strange collection of skills he had developed through his years in college, but an even stranger series of events that would somehow utilize everything he learned

On a random post-college road trip with some of his friends, they decided to visit this seemingly kiddy zoo just for fun they happened upon

They had plenty of time on their hands - no jobs, significant others, or classes were waiting for them, why not spend the whole day at the zoo?

Mark had to admit that the city they were in was pretty cute, full of people of all ages, and even a small private college to fill the space

The zoo was pretty impressive for the location, and full to the brim with families and friends just enjoying their summer vacation

Mark couldn’t help but note the small note on the corner of every map, hidden in the plea for any donation money, that this zoo also acted as a sanctuary and rehabilitation center

The boys spent their day enjoying everything the zoo had to offer, including the nasty sugared sweets shaped like the different animals throughout the park

The longest line by far was for a tropical boat ride, signs posted all around the entrance promising up close and personal interactions with animals, all from the safety of a small motorized boat. There was even a tour guide aboard to detail the experience!

Did he feel bad making his friends wait in a too long line on a hot day? Yes. Did he feel silly by how giddy he got? Possibly. Did he regret it? Absolutely not.

Within the first five minutes of the ride, Mark just felt something click

That tour guide looked like he was having the time of his life, despite the fact that this was probably the hundredth time he’s don't this exact speech

He even got just as excited as everyone else when the tiger, visible through the glass pane to their right, leap from his tree on to a rock to lounge

For the first time ever, Mark felt like he knew what he wanted to do

He couldn’t stop himself, despite protests from his friends, as he walked towards the tour guide after the tour was over

“So...uh...I really liked the show today. How do I get a job like that?”

The tour guide, whose nametag read Eric, was more than happy to tell him all about his job, the qualifications, and the amazing things he gets to do with animals during his shifts

He even got a monkey to land on his shoulder once!

Mark was completely starstruck

Within the hour, he was handing in his half-hazardly made resume (completely hand written on the back of a disposable map he found because who knew he was going to find his dream job on his stupid road trip?)

Mark has an inkling that Eric put in a good word for him, because the next day, when he was already hours away from the zoo, he got a call for an in-person interview

After ditching his friends, taking a bus back, and somehow scrounging up a presentable outfit for his interview, Mark was agreeing to his new job

And who else happened to be there, applying for an internship in the marketing department - you!

You sat beside Mark, both your legs jittering up and down as you waited in the silent back office, just waiting for your interview

Mark sat beside you (you only knew his name because he was kind enough to introduce himself when you sat down), fidgeting with a rather hideous tie

He was pulling on the ends of it, trying to get it to lay down straight but nothing he seemed to do made the fabric behave

After watching him struggle for a moment, you giggled quietly

“What’s so funny?”

“Your tie. You did it wrong.”

Mark couldn’t help but flush in embarrassment

“I haven’t really had to wear a tie recently. I’m kinda out of practice.”

“Did you want some help?”

He nodded sheepishly

It was almost romantic, the way you leaned over and redid his tie for him, fingers trying to move quickly despite how the trembled slightly

Mark tried to look anywhere but you, but your concentrated face was so cute he couldn’t help his eyes as they drifted over your features

Your blushed cheeks made you even cuter

Mark watched as you finished, your hands resting on his chest lightly as you made eye contact

Only the clearing of the interviewers throat made you two jump apart finally

She was staring down at you, a teasing smile on your face as she called you to her office for her interview

“Good luck,” he called quietly

The smile you gave him made his knees weak

Of course he got the job, and of course he was amazing at it

He was just a natural performer, entertaining the crowd

Every passenger could easily sense his passion for the things he was talking about, and it made them enjoy it that much more

(it also helped that he was extremely easy on the eyes)

Despite being able to talk and get to know people, be with animals all day, and get paid for basically being a kid again, Mark still thinks the best part of his job is seeing you every day

You make sure to pop into one of his tour every once and awhile, sitting right near the front so you can oogle at him all you want

Mark still remembers the shock of seeing you getting on his boat on his first day on the job

You looked up at him with those big ol eyes and made his heart melt

This of course did not go unnoticed by Eric, who had basically become his mentor of sorts

All it took was a single pep talk from him to get Mark off his ass to ask you out

Of course you said yes

It was obvious to everyone the minute you started dating, but who cares?

Nothing was more entertaining than watching you two sitting together and munching on the overpriced and bland cafeteria food, looking at each other with hearts in your eyes

#this one got away from me #i also am supposed to be writing an essay oops #mark tuan imagine #mark tuan drabble #mark tuan drabbles #got7 imagine #got7 imagines #got7 bullet point #mark tuan imagines

39 notes · View notes

neshabeingchildish · 5 years ago

Text

League of Extraordinary Geniuses || The Prologue

The Girl with the Purple Hair AKA The Smartest Woman in the World

Author’s Notes

‘They just GAVE her this honorific! The Smartest Woman in the World? How insulting! I didn’t spend the entirety of my life working beyond my hardware and having to remodel and upgrade frequently for some normal human girl to get a few degrees and just RECEIVE status as my female counterpart!’

Chase Davenport was in a very bad mood, and currently stuck in his own head. Davenport Industries was donating a dozen high quality, top grade androids to one of its employees, for an assignment in Dystopia, on which she would be attempting to deconstruct and rebuild the city to make it a Davencity - one of the many cities where basically all of the income and resources fit into an ecosystem created and maintained by the success of a Davenport driven economy.

Chase felt like it was gentrification and colonization, but as long as Mr. Davenport saw to it that the people in the communities selected were allowed to stay and contribute, then at least, they wouldn’t be completely taking away people’s homes and lives.

So… more of an occupation of sorts, but… Dystopia was one of those places that was such a mess that ANY change had to be for the better, and it was very close to this lady’s heart, apparently. She’d worked there for many years, traveling back and forth on charity missions between semesters in her academic career, ‘until she ingeniously swindled universities into giving her degrees.’

Chase pulled up her information in his bionic system, something he had been doing quite religiously ever since finding out that he was expected to be a part of these shenanigans. Mr. Davenport lauded this woman as “the person most fit for this job,” and as a condition of Chase’s current position in the company, he would have to shake the hand of this person in front of the world and approve of that sentiment, ‘thus endorsing the so-called “SmArtEst WOmAn In thE wOrld”’

Feeling that she “swindled” universities was unfair, but he was still pretty raw about all of these plans and mostly about that ‘COMPLETELY UNFATHOMABLE TITLE.’ Secretly, he admired her audacity and her follow through. He would never be able to admit it, as long as she was considered his intellectual equal and a high priority for Mr. Davenport.

She began a little challenge that she called "The Degree Collection Challenge." She would contact the Deans of Ivy League campuses and basically profess that she would be able to complete certain degrees in (some unprecedented amount of time), with their permission. Initially, they would agree, out of the pride and certainty that she couldn't do this. It became her brand - doing all of the work possible to earn an official degree in what should have been not enough time. Organizations began to try to monitor her endeavors and make sure she wasn't somehow cheating, hacking, doing SOMETHING illegal to yield the results that she was yielding, and eventually androids were utilized. Universities paid Davenport Industries A FORTUNE to basically stalk this woman with the intent to prove that she was unfairly gaining elite degrees from their institutions.

She kept fairly earning her degrees, racking up work, experience, and notoriety as one of the smartest people in the world and her new title as the Degree Collector, ‘a title she can be worthy of.’

It was on her verified social media, and whenever she went to do interviews and speak at colleges, it would always be on the caption or the headlines. He was fine with that. In fact, after a mention from a fan who said that they would LOVE to see her have a conversation with Chase Davenport, the bionic smartest man alive, she confessed that she was a HUGE follower of his work and would also love a conversation with him. He was flattered. She was famous, in her own right, and smart, as well. Also, she looked pretty in all of the photos and footage he saw of her, so finding out that she was a fan was highly favorable.

Her announcement led to Donald arranging the meeting AND giving her a job in one of his places close to her Alma mater, Harvard. She was already earning him money with the android monitoring systems from several colleges, and he wanted someone that popular and smart under his umbrella. Chase would be her “introduction to Davenport Industries” in her biography, even though he didn’t actually have the opportunity to meet her. In fact, his brother, Leo wound up having to pick her up and getting her settled into her new Davenport provided space, because Chase was out on missions.

She understood. As a self proclaimed huge follower of his work, she knew he went all over the world to tend to various threats, and after a while, the prospect of having a conversation with him became lost and he forgot all about the girl with the purple hair who Donald used as a publicity stunt a few years ago. ‘UNTIL… She became lauded as “the Smartest Woman Alive.”

For THAT to be true, she would need bionic access to all of the world’s information, to computer connections, satellites, etc. She would have to be extraordinary. She was just some woman with a bunch of degrees that she did get impressively quickly for a typical woman… but still… She was just a typical woman and he got frustrated every time he thought about the fact that her title pretended to rival his!

“Mr. Davenport?” He heard from behind him and he cleared off his research and cleared out his eye before turning and seeing a slim, petite, far more beautiful in person than in any of the publicity photos where she was typically working. “Hi!” She said, excited and extended her hand, “Charlotte Page. I know that I’m early, but The Dom said that I could let myself in with my access permissions, and I really wanted to be able to speak with you outside of all of his… panoply.”

Chase shook her hand. It was soft and her handshake was firm. She had on a cream colored pantsuit that fit her form, but was sleeveless and her arms indicated someone who took great care of her body. In fact, her body indicated someone who took great care of her body. And her face, her hair, and so on.

She didn’t look distressed, disheveled, with a mound of purple hair tied up in a puffy, messy bun. She wasn’t to her knees in an assignment or charity work, or in protective gear in her lab, and she wasn’t online, in a dimly lit room, speaking tired, because of the lack of rest she had. Her hair wasn’t purple either, or curly or puffy... It was... they call those goddess locs, if he remembered correctly from having seen the hairstyle before, and hers were a mixture of browns, with golden accents and charms in them.

He saw several superhero emblems - Captain Man, Kid Danger, the Dystopian Defenders, ‘So, she’s a superhero fangirl’ some African symbols and cutesy stuff too, a few lightening rods... She was staring at him and he wondered if he was studying her looks too long.

This was the first time he saw her face to face, and it was an amazing sight. “Well… Nice to meet the…” He paused. He realized at that moment that he had never said it out loud and also that he could not.

“The Degree Collector?” She said, saving him the discomfort of calling her the smartest woman alive. She folded her arms casually and said, “Although, my degrees can’t really be at all impressive to you, with the educational catalog that you’ve got. And for what it's worth, I never actually refer to myself as the other thing, either. When there’s someone like you out there and nobody else comparable, that would seem gauche. Not to mention the fact that my life has been teeming with privilege and opportunities. There’s probably a woman out there right now that might have mollywhopped me in the degree collecting challenge if she had more access and wealth, so… I’m good with being Charlotte Page. Charlotte Page is amazing.”

He relaxed a little and felt secretly justified in his silent protest of her being called that. But, now that it was out of the way, he did have other questions and interests about her that he would have already addressed had he not been simmering in anger. He began with, “What is it about Dystopia that makes you so passionate about it?”

A twinkle sparkled in her brown eyes and she was the prettiest and softest thing he could ever remember, in that moment where she thought about Dystopia. She unfolded her arms and began to move her hands around as she talked, “I think it’s because it was my first chosen home. I decided to go there and try to make a small difference. I brought along the two most important people in the world to me and together, we made it our home, for a little while, but made a big difference in a small span of time. Whenever I had to leave, my heart stayed there. My friends didn’t come with me because there was just so much to do and they felt more needed there than I might have needed them with me.” She called over one of the water boys and grabbed a fresh bottle of water from them. “I was working on a Biological and Biomedical Sciences degree and after only one year of doing that, realized that it would take too long for me to do everything that I wanted to do in Dystopia, or even in this world. SO, I took a note out of my friend’s little sister’s book… She managed to graduate high school early because she had to take so many summer classes. I shot for the same basic principle, but on the college level and once it began to be a thing that I just do… I continued and I use everything that I can to try to make Dystopia better, for my friends and for my fondness of it as the first home that I chose for myself.”

“Wow. I’ve actually never chosen a home, so I don’t know this attachment. Mr. Davenport has orchestrated where I go for all of my life,” he admitted.

“Why?”

“Well… Because, he’s the one in charge,” he said and shrugged his shoulders, slightly embarrassed. She studied him for a while and he felt mildly uncomfortable under her watch, but simultaneously enjoyed the attention.

“At least he’s a genius. The gods know I’ve worked under the control of complete idiots before..” She thought for a little while longer, then added, “But… not genius enough, I would say.” She finally commented and averted her eyes to glance around the room. “He’s definitely probably smarter than me, but nobody’s smarter than you. You’re Smartie GOALS. It doesn’t rationally make sense to me that you’re in a room with someone, but you’re not the one in charge.” She shrugged and called over a recycling collector to pass off her empty bottle. “You know?” She punctuated the thought, hoping she wasn’t completely out of line for speaking it.

He placed his hands in his pockets and said, “I’m always the smartest man in the room… but not necessarily the wisest person, and definitely not always right. There has to be some humility to make our dynamic work, and if there are these gods you speak of somewhere, they know that HE’S not going to have any. I’ve challenged his authority a couple of times, but it never works in my favor. He really has an infrastructure that calls for his leadership.”

“Maybe you need to separate yourself from that infrastructure to reach your fullest potential,” she said. He looked at her, startled and she laughed and shook her hands and head, “Sorry, sorry! I realized after I said it that I totally sound like an up-and-coming supervillain trying to get the smartest man alive in her corner! I’ll shut up immediately about that. It’s just...my parents weren’t really that involved in a lot of my decisions… They did this thing where they raised me from the first moment I seemed cognizant to learn to do for myself. I don’t always understand those of you who have a more codependent situation with your parents. I think that I expected less commitment, since you refer to him as “Mr. Davenport. I don’t even refer to him as Mr. Davenport!”

He just laughed a little. It wasn’t really her business how he was raised in a capsule in a basement, that his biological father was someone else, etc. She was just making conversation, and you don’t spring heavy things on pretty girls in the middle of conversation. That’s how you never get pretty girls. One of the many ways, at least. His list was still growing at this stage in his life.

After a while, Donald Davenport came through with the camera crew and the dozen androids. He and Chase presented Charlotte with the supplies and she gave a thank you speech to him, and to Chase, although with all of the emphasis that she put on Chase in this thank you, she noticed that The Dom took it as a slight against him.

That was one of the reasons she called Donald Davenport, “The Dom,” instead of Mr. Davenport or even Donald. That man would honestly be completely comfortable with total submission from others and she often wondered and worried about his wife with these habits, though his brother, Douglas, told her that the wife “wore the pants” at home. A likely story!

She liked Douglas. He was usually her means of contact. While she did bond with Leo upon her first meeting over their shared experience of limited bionics (and hers being even LESS accessible than his, at the time), it was Douglas that she could count on for fun experiment approval and such. She wished that he was here today, but he had some things to do in Centium City, so he had to miss it. He did promise to help her get settled with the equipment in her Dystopia office, whenever he finished.

After the speech, Chase escorted Charlotte to the shuttle, hating the thought that when this conversation ended, he’d never see her again, and resenting himself for not being able to meet her sooner, or at the very least, to appreciate her for who she was and seemed to be. “Well, thank you for indulging me,” she said. “I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, and now that dream has been achieved!” Her smile was bright and her eyes were hopeful. “Should… we exchange info, or would that be weird for you?”

“NO!” He said, too excitedly, with a chaotic smile, then followed up with, “I mean, no, it wouldn’t be weird! Yes, to we should!”

She laughed uncomfortably and handed him something, “Here’s my contact info.” He looked at the chip inside of the palm of his hand. “New tech that your Uncle Donald and my mentor Schwoz have been working on. It’s an information chip. It basically lets you, as a bionic have access to a normal that you would have to the other bionics.”

“Like… I can track your GPS?”

“On my devices. I don’t have a GPS system in me, but, you definitely have all my numbers, email addresses, etc, and contact with my devices. So… If you don’t get in touch with me this time around, I’ll know that you just didn’t want to.”

“What if I were a stalker?” He asked.

“You aren’t. You’re not the only person who can do extensive research, Mr. Davenport.” She winked at him and he practically melted. ‘Charlotte Page IS amazing.’

Three Years Ago...

She heard an electronic alert in her inner ear and uncovered her forearm to check the notification. She tapped the side of her face a few times in order to translate the message, then delete it. “The drop off is here,” she told Henry and Jasper, over the comm.

“What? We can’t go now!” Henry complained and punched one of the henchmen.

“I know. WE can’t. But, I’ll rendezvous with the supplier and we’ll reassemble at the base,” she said.

“No! That’s too dangerous.”

“Danger is our brand,” she reminded him.

“Defense. Defense is our brand. That’s why we’re called the Dystopian Defende- Cha… Dystress!” He called out loud. But, she was already barreling her way passed the automatic gunfire being aimed at her and dived behind a collapsed statue.

On the comm, she said, “Deflector… Focus on your mission, and I’ll focus on mind. Catch you when we get back.”

“Dystress, you do not have a forcefield and there is gunfire!”

“T-Force is here with the shipment and if they have to leave it at the drop off, you know that everything will be pillaged. The kids need those supplies.” She adjusted her metal glove gauntlet, pressed some codes on her forearm and groaned as she lifted the biggest piece of the statue and flung it at the shooters. Two were crushed and two ran for cover. Henry and Jasper fought with other henchmen as she made a run for it and slid beneath a pulled up piece of gate to get off of the site.

She notified her contact to beg them not to leave, because she was on her way, then proceeded to run for 15 minutes, dodging curious onlookers and maneuvering through sporadic waves of people. Whenever she reached the drop off, her contact was still there. “Max! Thank God you stayed,” she said and rushed to give him a hug.

He smiled, “For you? Of course.” They slapped hands and he shook his in pain and hissed. She was quickly apologetic. She still had on her metal glove gauntlet AND her strength was still enhanced. “Were you in a fight?” He wondered. They were usually the contact and coyote for the charity that Charlotte worked with to get quality supplies brought in - everything from seeds, food, school resources, and hygiene products. Sometimes, they couldn’t even PAY for them in the city, because their charity put a dent in the business of too many crime lords depending on child trafficking, child soldiers, and other exploitation of the impoverished kids of Dystopia. But, Max always seemed far more concerned about how Charlotte was doing than the kids he was helping. She had a feeling that he might have had a crush on her.

“Yeah. I had to leave Deflector and Dogwalk in battle to come collect. Supply theft is one of the few crimes that has INCREASED since we got here. We’re causing such a dent in the organized crime, some of the well kept criminals are turning to petty crimes, and some of the bosses are trying to hit our shipments personally. We need an entire goddamn redo with this place. I’m supposed to be leaving after a short while... I didn’t even want to leave them today for this. I hate that they’ll be fighting crime here, probably until they die!” she complained, knowing that she was exaggerating, but also that Max would let her complain to him.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes, “Hey. You get this stuff to the kids and don’t worry about your team. Give me their coordinates,” he said. He was already in his super suit and mentally prepared for a fight.

She tapped on the screen on her arm, sent the coordinates, and he opened a portal, “This one will bring you and your supplies to the base,” he said. Then another opened beside it, “I’m gonna go make sure that your dudes don’t die.” She covered her heart with both hands as he stepped into the golden light and it evaporated with him going to Henry and Jasper’s aid. Charlotte collected all of her things and stepped into the light. Workers would meet her on the other end.

She came through the other end right outside of the camp, tapped her face twice and her outfit morphed back into regular wear. Her purple hair was even tied up. She took the handle of the trolley and moved towards the base.

And that was exactly what she thought about whenever she walked back onto base with supplies and resources, from Davenport Industries, ready to execute her most ambitious plan ever.

“Is that Charlotte?” Someone asked. She turned to see the director of the charity and was going to go greet her, but “CHAR!!!” from two very eager big boys came roaring towards her as Jasper and Henry ran up to hug her.

Jasper lifted her into the air and spun her around. Henry yanked her down and bear hugged her painfully. “Ummm… Are you two trying to incapacitate me?” She asked. They put her down and she shook the director’s hand. Everyone was talking to her at once, but whenever several jets landed nearby, she grimaced and promised, “I’m sorry, but I have to touch base with T-Force and with my deconstruction team,” she pointed a thumb at each of the jets. “I’ll definitely regroup and do stuff with you guys later, though.” She turned to go towards the jets, and Henry and Jasper frowned.

Though, Henry squeezed Jasper’s shoulder and said, “You know her work is very important.”

“And we’re not?” Jasper wondered.

“Yeah, but… I’m sure she’s on a tight schedule. And that’s millions of dollars of support that she has to oversee. Come on. Let’s start on dinner!”

Charlotte’s heart rate sped up the closer she got to the T-Force jet. She had gotten word specifically from Max Thunderman, himself that he was going to be heading up this mission (which was basically to guard the Davenport staff as they set up operations for the project, personally vowing to guard Charlotte with his life. She didn’t need it, but the sentiment still made her all giddy inside. He’d never know it, though.

Whenever he got out of the jet and approached, advanced and new black super suit with an emblem that rotated fire and ice around a lightning bolt; she dipped her head courteously and said in a calm voice, “Nice to see you, Thunderstrike. How’s the suit working out?” He smiled and pulled her into a hug that she returned, but quickly ended, lest she get caught up in her feelings.

“It’s working out wonderfully. The best fashion designer that I know designed it and the best biological technologist and engineer that I know made it.”

Her face warmed up and she couldn’t believe how after not even seeing him for years, the thought of being around him already had her semi floating. “So, you ready to help me to create a whole new Dystopia?”

“I’m ready to watch your back while YOU create a whole new Dystopia,” he said, with his hands held out.

“That works!” It was a good day for her. She had been able to see her favorite people in the world, and set out on a journey that would maybe rightfully earn her that title that made Chase Davenport cringe.

Throughout the deconstruction, The Defenders kept working Dystopia and with T-Force nearby, Charlotte’s work was able to be done without attacks and theft, AND, she set up daily feeding cycles to discourage stealing and establish healthier diets for less privileged Dystopians. One of the first buildings that was worked on was the high tech, maximum security prison. The other one had been overcrowding since she, Jasper and Henry first came to Dystopia, and Henry had told her that a lot of the lower level criminals were simply released because the courts couldn’t ethically put or keep many of them in there under the population conditions. Charlotte named the place for Max. The Thunderman Super Max Penitentiary of Dystopia. He liked having his name on something and all, but he was more concerned about rehabilitation and reformation. So, she got with an architect for designing a rehabilitation center for criminals and villains who could be redeemed. That one, she put his full name on.

She was working on her favorite thesis during that time on the necessity of superhuman and nonsupers relations for the balance of global inequities and her rapport with Max became a better gateway into the supers world than she previously had, while her relationship with Swellview’s finest gave her the down home and small scale hero angle.

As things became more functional, and more Davencentric, T-Force was reassigned to other missions and the Elite Force would be rushed in for any emergencies in Dystopia. Charlotte was sad to not be able to see Max as much, but it was kind of nice that she got to see Chase sometimes. Unfortunate that it was usually during a crisis, but they actually worked well together in those. The last visit that the Elite Force (his team) came to assist, she was able to show him the Chase Davenport Reference Library of Dystopia. He was honored, though shocked that “Mr. Davenport would approve this.” She laughed about that. She hadn’t gotten approval on anything and as long as the statistics she sent him kept improving, he wasn’t bothering her for it.

In her time there, jobs had been created with the nearly constant building, the pollution problems had been addressed, littering and waste disposal rectified, plant life and trees planted, wastelands beautified, and the corrupt government and laws cleaned up. The head of the charity was now the Mayor and Henry and Jasper inherited the charity and renamed it Budding Flowers. The base was fortified and remodeled, while The Dystopia Defenders’ lair, the Defender Dome, was erected nearby.

Dystopia became the most flourishing Davencity in the world. The Dom loved being “the most” something “in the world,” so she was pretty much set for life and the Defender Dome was the lair that Henry and Jasper had both always dreamed of. She had revived the ecosystem and the economy - not on her own of course, but as the leader of the project, she would get the credit deserved of her work and announce additional credit while in her spotlight. She loved Dystopia, and now, she could always be proud of it... But... She didn’t necessarily want to just quit while she was ahead and rest of the fruits of this venture. Charlotte Page was amazing. One city was absolutely an accomplishment for her to save. But... how much more of the world could she save if she kept pressing forward?

“Charlotte Page is amazing,” she said, looking out of the Defender Dome at the city below that was unrecognizable from all of the before photos taken via satellite and from the place that she lived a year and visited on “breaks” from school. It was a new place. She was capable of possibly molding an entire new world.

#Henry Danger #Lab Rats #The Thundermans #Chasing Thunderbolts Fic #League of Extraordinary Geniuses #LOEG Update #Nesha Fics #Multiverse Fics

28 notes · View notes

offrankies · 4 years ago

Text

New Beginnings || Graham & Frankie

TIMING: A few days ago PARTIES: @grahamstoker & @offrankies SUMMARY: An anxious, homeless lesbian with lots of questions convinces a hematophobic vampire to let her be his roommate, and gets some answers in the process.

Rushing in to a new town with nothing but a backpack filled with things hadn’t been one of her brightest choices. Frankie knew her grandma had to butter up to her parents into accepting her decision and that would mean eventually getting most of her stuff from her house, but until then, she couldn’t afford a place to live on her own as she only had enough money for a month’s worth of rent and food. Her first day in town had been spent driving around, in hopes of finding Layla walking around, but also to start learning her way around. She’d eventually found a grocery store, a board on the entrance with different kinds of ads. One in particular had stood out, a simple “room for rent” with a scribbled address. Her grandma would’ve argued it was sketchy, but at this point she was desperate for a roof to sleep under. A knot had formed on her throat as she stood outside of the apartment, her hands clenched in fists against her chest. She had no job, no education other than school; just hopes and dreams that she knew White Crest would fulfill. With a deep breath, heart pounding on her chest, Frankie placed two knocks on the door.

The city of Rome wasn’t built in a day, they said, but Graham found himself absently wondering if it was built by vampires as he sat splayed on his couch, one leg over the arm as he lazily flipped through the channels on his TV. It probably wasn’t; thank god he wasted thought on that. He finally had a day off both his jobs, which he seemed to have worked every day since he arrived in this weird-ass town and dammit, he was going to enjoy his nothing-to-do. So it was odd that that would be the one day he received a couple knocks on the door and he frowned to himself, wondering who it could’ve been. He stretched and got to his feet slowly, trudging over to the door and not bothering to look through the peephole before opening it to regard a… girl. Teenager. It took him just one short moment to mask his confusion and his expression softened. “Hey there,” He said lightly. “What can I do for you?” He never was one to shy away from temporarily entertaining (and maybe even trolling) passing salespeople; she was no different.

Frankie’s hands started fidgeting, mindlessly pulling the broken skin on her nails as she waited for the door to open. It hadn’t been even a minute, but the seconds stretched like years in front of her, and the moment the door opened, she braced herself to the shiny colors that would greet her… except nothing came, just the voice of an older man. Her mouth opened and then closed again, in shock. There was absolutely nothing surrounding the other, at least nothing other than air, and she had to fight the urge to raise her hand and touch him to know that he was real. It wasn’t possible, never in her life she’d seen a person without an aura - at least, not one that was breathing and staring at her with bright eyes. There were times where she’d met people with small, almost concealed auras, but there was always a hint, a glimpse of colorful shadows around them. His voice made her blink a few times rapidly, snapping out of her thoughts, and she quickly straightened her back, clearing her throat, ignoring her heartbeat on her ears. If she had been nervous before, it had turned into excitement. Who- no, What was he? “Hi, I’m-- I’m Frankie, I just moved here. Uh---” Her shaking hands reached into her backpack, pulling a creased piece of paper and extending it to him. “ I was wondering if you-- if the room offer is still there?” Out of all the things Graham was expecting the girl named Frankie to try to sell him on, asking for his spare room wasn’t on that list. Part of him forgot that he had even offered the room out. Only part, mind, but it was still enough for him to stand there for a second or two to process what exactly he wrote. He remembered soon enough, though, and he gave her a small nod, taking the paper from her gently and noting her… presumed nervousness. “Yeah! Yeah, c’mon in, Frankie.” He offered, standing aside to allow the girl passage. He was thinking of someone a little older, perhaps, but he had moved out of his house by the time he was 18 so he knew it was possible. “Don’t be scared,” He added, his tone casual and approachable. “I promise I’m not one of those weirdos that post stuff to lure girls in. Not my style.” Hopefully she would believe him on that.

In all honesty, the possibility of him being a predator hadn’t crossed Frankie’s mind until he mentioned it, and she couldn’t help but laugh at that. Normally she’d know if he had such intentions, but for the first time in her life she was completely clueless with what and who she was dealing with. Still, she was way too interested to let the opportunity pass. She made her way inside, looking around the room. “I’m not scared.” She reassured him, turning around to give him another look, the lack of aura once again making her breath catch in her throat. Maybe she needed glasses? Maybe the place was somehow locking the auras from showing? “This is… all new for me, so I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.” She didn’t know if she was referring to finding a place to live or the lack of flowing colors everywhere, but she guessed it was true for both. “It’s a lovely place though, … uhm.” Her lips pressed together, waiting for a name. “Well… start by taking a seat anywhere you think’s comfortable,” Graham replied, closing the door behind her and going over to the bar that separated his kitchen from the living room, keeping his eyes on her not warily but just to show that he was giving her his attention. “Oh, it’s Graham,” He gave her the name as he got out a glass and filled it with ice and water. “Tell me about you, Frankie; how old are you, what do you like to do, things like that.” He suggested, going back over to her and offering the glass to her. At least she wasn’t afraid; good. He tried to avoid giving that impression when he could avoid it.

Her eyes moved around the room, and Frankie wasn’t completely sure if she should sit down on the couch or not. “Nice to meet you Graham.” Oh, fuck it, if she was going to live here she needed to see if the couch was comfortable or not. Taking her backpack off her back, she sat down, now focused on the man. “Well, I’m nineteen, soon to be twenty. Or not so soon, really. My birthday’s in November. I want to get a bachelor’s in childhood education so I really need to look into colleges around here. Uhm, I also kinda need a job but I have enough money for rent until I get one.” Was she rambling? Oh god she started rambling. She wiped the sweat of her hands on her black jeans, a nervous laugh escaping her. What are you supposed to say in these things? “I like animals and I have my own motorcycle...?” As the girl situated herself, Graham studied her movements, her speech patterns and, of course, the information she gave him about herself and he couldn’t help but scoff when she told him that she didn’t have a job but did have a motorcycle. “So you’re from out of town,” He assumed. “Your only education is high school and you need a job,” He basically repeated her though he noted that she had money. Part of him wondered for a moment if it was because her parents were rich, that she was a thief or she had a job before but that was then and this was now so it didn’t matter too much to him. “And you like animals. That’s good, at least.” He chuckled, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. “So I gotta ask; what made you come to White Crest?” Relatively speaking, White Crest DID have the weird ability to draw people to it for some reason or another. He had gotten a suggestion but he was learning that a lot of people just… showed up. He felt like that might’ve been the case with this girl.

“I know it doesn’t look good, but I can’t get a job or enroll in college unless I find a place to live first.” Frankie’s hands were once again fidgeting on her lap, the realization that she was blowing the interview. However, his question made her freeze on her seat. The image of Layla crying and telling her all the secrets she had kept from her filled her mind, and she had to bite down her lower lip to keep herself from tearing up. “I’m … I’m looking for my girlfriend.” Her voice was awfully quiet in comparison with her previous outburst, and once more she found herself fishing inside her backpack, grabbing the tape to show it to him, her lips tightly pressed together. For a minute, she didn’t say anything, pondering. She could lie, come up with a pitiful excuse and use emotional leverage to convince him to let her stay; or she could be honest, and risk sleeping on the streets yet another night. “Her parents told me she was dead, but she sent me this two days ago so I’m- I’m trying to find her.” He was thrown for another loop and Graham’s expression got more gentle almost immediately when Frankie came clean about why she was there. His thoughts nowadays seemed to occur in short bursts of memory and the briefest of contemplations and for that moment, he recalled the face of a woman, with a warm smile and an infectious laugh. Her hand on his shoulder, her lips against his, the smell of expensive wine tingeing her breath as-- He blinked and he gave a small sigh as he took the tape from her shaking hands. He would’ve been lying if he thought to deny her request, to tell her she’d have more luck somewhere else and to not get involved but he couldn’t bring himself to and he turned the tape in his hands carefully before handing it back. “Okay,” He relinquished. “Okay, just… calm down, it’s okay.” He assured, putting his hands on his hips. He exhaled through his nose. This changed a couple things up. “So… since we’re being honest, what’s going on with your girlfriend? Why did her parents sign her off as dead?”

Frankie's lips were once more tightly pressed, a knot on her throat forming as the other stood quietly. She had flunked it, and she quietly closed her backpack and grabbed it as she stood up, ready to be kicked out. However, his answer and question made her open her eyes wide, carefully taking the tape. Once again, she was at a crossroad, needing to decide whether to lie or not. A nervous laugh escaped her, and she shoved the tape back with her belongings, not daring to meet his eye, the lack of aura still making her nervous, but what she was about to admit made her even more anxious. "You won't believe me if I tell you." Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up to him, an apologetic smile painting her lips. "She's- she's a werewolf-- and her family wanted her dead because they're hunters and hunters kill werewolves, and she was supposed to be one of them but then she wasn't---" Taking a deep breath to slow down her babbling, she hadn't realized the tears were willing down her face. "I- I know this sounds taken straight out of a lame 90's movie like Teen Wolf but I swear I'm being honest." Though he could feel Frankie’s anxiety radiating off of her, Graham was determined to keep his eyes on her with no impression that he was about to toss her out. However, from the moment she said ‘werewolf’, he smothered the immediate scoff that wanted so badly to escape his body and he inhaled sharply through his nose as a compromise. He remained steadfast in his gaze as she continued to be upfront with him, or at least upfront enough that he didn’t think she was actually lying - rather, he found Frankie’s very evident attachment to this girl to be endearing. He was realising as she talked that he probably wasn’t the best person to deal with teenage drama. He got another short memory of the woman from before, thinking she would’ve been much better at this. “Oh, sweetie,” He did scoff this time as he gently reached forward and wiped a tear from her face with a thumb, giving her a smile. “I believe you.” He said, stroking the side of her face briefly in what he hoped was a warm gesture (her skin certainly was) before pulling away and reaching over to retrieve the decorative box of tissues from the side table in the corner and offering it out to her. “That’s awful, though. I can’t imagine being killed or hunted by your own family. And so young to be given such a curse.” He lied this time, easily but he still meant what he said. “No more crying on the couch. Just take a deeeep breath.” He had to lighten the mood if only for his own sake.

The moment Graham's hand touched her, Frankie took a sharp intake and let out a sharp yet soft scream. He was colder than the ice cream she used to share with Layla, and the seconds his finger lingered on her face stretched dlike eternity, her heart sinking on her chest. "You're cold." She whispered, swallowing to get rid of the knot the crying had formed in her throat, and for a moment, Frankie felt small, and alone, realizing that she had left everything and everyone chasing something that sounded like a dream. Without a warning, she closed the distance between them and burrowed her face on his chest, her sobs filling the room. Nevermind that he was a complete stranger with no aura and honestly a potential murderer - he believed her, and for a second that's all she needed. "Please let me stay here." Her voice was muffled by the clothes and her sobs, and Frankie was too desperate and broken to realize that not only his hands were cold, but that his whole body felt like a big human shaped rock. One moment Graham was offering out tissues and the next he was standing there with a teenage girl burying her face in his shirt, feeling her fingers grasping at his clothes like she was drowning and scrabbling to grab onto anything to keep her from going under. He gulped and his eyes darted around the room under furrowed brows for a few moments, as if he were the butt of some hidden-camera show. Well… he knew, he knew that it didn’t matter if he was being secretly recorded or not; he used to be a surgeon. That part of his brain kickstarted for the situation and though he experienced hesitancy, his mind still seeming to want to determine whether or not he was actually sympathetic to her plight or just eager to get this over with, what empathy he had retained from his old life sparked back to life and he placed a strong hand on the top of her head. He started weighing the pros and cons….. and figuring out that there weren’t a whole lot of pros. Baby steps. He pet the top of her head gently. “Okay.” He said softly. He wanted to add some levity again but he left his response as it was and simply stood there, steadfast for her to cry herself out.

Frankie felt like her whole mind was spiraling without control, flashing images of Layla and her watching bad movies in her bed with their legs tangled together, her grandmother teaching her the importance of meaning behind the different colors surrounding a person, her mother softly caressing her hair when life became too hard one day to another. It felt like years had passed, her whole life changing in a matter of hours. She’d struggled, she was still struggling, and even though she took pride in being a smart, strong woman, it took times like this to remember she was still only a kid. The feeling of Graham’s hand trying to comfort her mixed with his soft answer took more muffled crying from her, and it took several minutes for her to calm down. Eventually, her shoulders were no longer shaking and her fists weren’t clenched on his shirt, but instead cradled against her own chest as she took a few steps back from him, puffy eyes and rosy cheeks from her sudden outburst. Her breathing was still irregular, but at least she felt a little better. “I’m sorry-- I didn’t mean to do that.” And like that, she let herself drop back on the couch. “My- My grandma told me stories when I was a kid and I never thought they’d be real, about werewolves and fairies and vampires, and now Layla just throws this bomb at me and I left my home to find her and I don’t--” She stopped to take a deep breath, wiping her face with both her hands in frustration, but also to wipe the tears that were still there. “I don’t even care if it’s real or not, I just need to find her.” All things considered, Graham thought he was treating this situation like a boss. He waited patiently until she pulled away from him in which he removed his hand from her head. the sudden separation of her body heat from him almost prompting a sigh but he kept it under wraps. He examined the tears on his shirt briefly - bigger fish to fry, don’t worry about it - and he offered the box of tissues again. “Yeah, it can be a little… jarring,” He agreed, sitting on the arm of the couch lightly. “You said she sent you that message, what, two days ago? The likelihood of her still being here is pretty good,” He said before his expression shifted. “But I’ll be honest with you - werewolves aren’t nice creatures to fuck around with. Have you figured out what you’re gonna do after you find her?”

“I hope you’re right.” She mumbled, sinking even more on the couch. His question made Frankie’s mouth hung open for a few seconds as she thought, before she clenched her teeth, a frustrated groan leaving her as she burrowed her face in her hands. There were just too many things going on through her head and Graham, though blessed for not kicking her out the second she opened her mouth, wasn’t helping. Honestly, Frankie hadn’t thought that far ahead and had hoped that things would sort out on their own once they happened. She could worry about what she would tell Layla after and if she found her. But his previous statement floated around her head, and she turned her face towards him, one eye peeping from between her fingers. “How… How do you know so much about werewolves? And why aren’t you freaking out?” And she put her face in her hands again. Graham felt his eyebrows do a dance on his forehead as they went from raised in worry to half-quirked with some other emotion. He guessed he didn’t say the right thing but he felt it was important to at least think about future plans before jumping in even deeper. The look carried through into his mulling over her question when she asked between her fingers. She was being honest so far but would she believe him? He was far less concerned with her leaving if she didn’t like what or how he was but given that she dropped everything to come running to her werewolf girlfriend, he decided to go out on a limb and he started to rub his hands together absently, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ve been told a lot of things and I’ve done a lot of reading,” He replied honestly. “As I’m sure you’ve been able to figure out, this town is hella weird. I dunno what all was in those stories your grandma told you but at least half of it is probably true.” He explained. “This is the part where I should probably tell you that I’m a vampire.” Well, there it was. He didn’t adjust his form at all as he spoke, wondering how the girl was going to react to that information.

Her mouth formed a perfect circle, her hands slowly sliding down her face to her lap. Her face felt weird because of the dried tears and her eyes still stinging with a burning sensation, but it didn’t quite matter when he had dropped yet another bomb. The Frankie from six months ago would’ve laughed in his face, grabbed her stuff and walked out of the apartment without a second doubt, but after everything that had happened in her life, and after Graham so easily believing what she was saying, it would be hypocritical of her. A small voice told her than, maybe, he was messing with her and joking after the werewolf bit, but the feeling of his cold hands and hard body was still lingering in her skin. A vampire. Unconsciously, her body shifted slightly away from him. Vampires were… bad, right? At least most movies portrayed them like that. Then again there was Twilight where vampires were good--- Oh, What if he was like Bella? And that was why she couldn’t see his aura? “Um. I’m- You won’t drink my blood if I live here, right? I mean I guess I could--- maybe-- if it doesn’t hurt too much but it would be just super weird and-- ” “Oh no no, that’s not my intention,” Graham replied quickly, keeping his blue eyes on her steadily and noticing her subtle body language, distancing herself from him as he expected; good, she had some form of self-preservation. “You’re a little young and…” He did actually consider withholding the following information but decided to go all the way since they were already there. “The sight and smell of blood makes me… nauseous. Freaks me out.” He DID decide not to add the part where he would’ve said ‘I might kill you’ - there was a line so he decided to hide it behind the good ol’ hematophobia. “I don’t feed in front of other, uh… people.” He wasn’t lying about this part; he already dropped the ball with the whole ‘vampire’ bit. “UNLESS-- unless… well, no. I still don’t plan on it.” He shrugged. “If your girlfriend is over and she wolfs out, then all bets are off.” He felt the need to specify. “I draw the line at being attacked in my own apartment.” He gave her a clever smile. “BUT that being said, you’re off my menu. Just… warn me if you’re planning on getting blood anywhere.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Any more questions so far?”

“How often do you feed?” The question was out of Frankie’s mouth before she even noticed what she was doing, her lips pressing together to keep her from spilling any more blabbering or stupid questions. Honestly, at this point she had no idea what she was anxious about, but she couldn’t seem to find the off button. “Sorry. Uhm. Don’t answer that. I’m sorry your only food source makes you sick.” She remained quiet for a moment, thinking. “What does wolfing out mean? Do werewolves turn into actual wolves? I thought they just… grew more hair and… I don’t know, got claws and stuff? And Is the alpha beta thing an actual thing? And-- do they have, like, insane senses? Can they turn them off?” She stopped to take a deep breath, suddenly standing up to face him better. “Sorry. We can, uhm, I guess you can fill me out on the wolf department later. I-- I kinda need to come clean about something too.” Her mouth was like a faucet the way she just spilled question after question but Graham kept in mind every one of them until she finished with a taper and she realised that she was unloading her curiosity onto him. He didn’t necessarily mind but that was what he HAD in mind when he asked about questions. He found it curious for a moment that she was inherently more interested in the ‘wolf’ part than the ‘vampire’ part but that was to be expected - she WAS the girlfriend of a werewolf, after all. “How ‘bout this, then - I’ll answer your veritable onslaught once you tell me what’s on your mind.” He compromised, looking at her patiently.

Frankie was silently thankful of how calm Graham was, taking each outburst better than the last. She licked her lips as she figured out the best way of telling him, as it was the first time she ever confessed her gift to someone outside her family. “Okay so---” Her left hand reached forward to him, not touching him but rather lingering a few inches away, tracing where his aura would be if he had one. “-- there’s absolutely nothing here. You have no aura. And I kinda think it’s because you’re, uhm, dead, but I can’t really tell because I’ve only dealt with people before?” Blabbering. She was blabbering again. Another deep breath, her hand dropping, fingers toying with each other. “What I mean is --- I can see auras. And they’re annoying for the most part because they’re super bright sometimes. So it’s nice that you don’t have one.” “Ah, you’re an aura reader,” Graham replied casually, lying through his teeth - he honestly didn’t know that aura readers were a thing but she didn’t need to know that. He didn’t find it surprising that she could read auras though he did find himself slightly surprised at his own lack of aura… he didn’t have one? He was undead but he was still a-- well, maybe he didn’t qualify as a person anymore. That thought made him… “Well! Happy to help; I can imagine how annoying that could be.” He painted over his brief expression with a smile. “Guess it works out in our favour.” He said, reaching forward with a finger and poking her palm gently, feeling her heat against his skin. “Okay, my turn.” He cleared his throat, going back to rubbing his hands together. “I try to only feed once or twice a week. I call when werewolves involuntarily transform ‘wolfing out’. Like someone ‘freaking out’ but with a wolf,” He looked up as he recalled the questions in order. “Only werewolves who have achieved some sort of equilibrium turn into actual wolves, to my knowledge. Most of the time, they take on quadrupedal beasts with wolf features. Alphas and such are mostly a myth but I THINK the wolves that were born with it prefer running in packs. The “alpha” thing isn’t much more of a thing to werewolves than humans who want leaders. Annnnnd… They have enhanced senses that get stronger nearer to the full moon.” He furrowed his brow. “I didn’t miss any questions, did I?”

His reaction made Frankie smile in relief. Oh, thank God he knew what she was on about, because she didn’t have the slightest idea on how to explain how, less alone why she could see auras, and in all honesty, even if she knew how, she didn’t want to do it either. Her eyes looked down to his finger poking her fidgeting hands, and because she was a curious teen, she reached forward to take his hands in hers, the cold touch completely foreign to her but, now that she knew what to expect, it didn’t bother her. For the first time since she had entered the room, she remained quiet, letting him speak, her fingers playing with his and letting her warmth conquer his tundra. It was amazing how Graham could recall every single question she had asked, even the ones she didn’t even remember saying. Even after he had stopped talking, she remained silent. It was way too much information, and by the way her brows were furrowed, she was clearly struggling to process everything. “I need to write this down somewhere before I forget.” And like that, she let go of his hands, a sigh escaping her. “Thank you. For, like, everything, not just the not having an aura and.. answering my shi--- stuff.” Was she allowed to swear? “Uhm, I promise I’m not always a mess ...? Maybe sometimes--- but you won’t regret taking me in.” The space between them was quiet for a moment following his string of answers as Graham felt her fingers touching his hand, almost childlike in their curiosity. He had to admit that the warmth was one of the things he missed the most and he got another brief memory before it faded back out and he saw the look on her face - maybe he answered too many of her questions at once. She was a teenage human and this was a lot to take in. He chuckled when she censored herself and shook his head. “I can write everything down for you and you can curse - you’re a grown-ass adult who can make her own decisions.” He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s why you’re here, after all.” He pulled to his feet from sitting on the arm of the couch. “Just take a few days to get settled in, just relax. One step at a time.” He pulled the front of his shirt away from his chest to keep it from sticking subconsciously. “C’mon, lemme show you around. You can have the guest bathroom - keep it clean,” He motioned for her to gather her things and follow her. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

#p: New Beginnings #p: graham #❪ ⋅ ⋆ —— ❛ para ❜ ❫

9 notes · View notes