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allondonboy · 5 years ago

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Medicine for the Soul (Ch 9)

Chapter 9 - Andante: tutti (Ch 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8)

very much tutti.

bind responsibly folks. if you need information my tumblr is open or please contact your binding person of choice

thanks for your patience with this little fic, feedback is always welcomed

thanks as always to @jjeanmorreau

J’onn gives them a list of accompanists to work through. It’s long, with maybe twenty names, and Alex lets the list sit on top of their pile of music for a full week before having a closer look. The issue, they realise as their stomach twists, is that they have to be open with whoever they choose. They have to make themselves completely vulnerable with whoever is playing the concerto with them.

And that involves coming out.

They haven’t bothered with declaring their pronouns to the rest of their academic year. It doesn’t affect how well they work in the lab because they never hang around long enough to have a conversation. They’re polite to the staff and the staff are polite back and somehow they’ve avoided any situation in which they hear themselves referred to in the third person. It’s a complete non-issue.

One-on-one, for an hour, maybe hours on end, is a different story.

Their accompanist will be the first time they’ve opened their social circle – even if it’s for the purely perfunctory purpose of entering a competition – since Maggie, and Maggie was definitely a special case of at-least-she’s-heard-the-terminology.

Before they know it, they’ve spiralled, and they crush up the list of names in a tight fist.

Lucy doesn’t really do affection and that’s probably one of the reasons they’re such good friends. There’s no time wasted with feelings when you can blurt what you’re thinking and know the other person will roll with it.

This is the one time Alex hesitates about talking to Lucy. The memory of Lucy coming out to them as bi plays itself on loop. It helps, knowing that Lucy was nervous about that. It makes it okay to be nervous about this.

Because they’ve done the reading and the research, and they have the back of a notebook full of evidence and analysis of their thought process, and they have a conclusion, underlined twice.

Non-binary.

It makes sense.

Lucy feels like the natural person to tell first. Secrets are part of her life, partly because so many people keep secrets from her, and if there’s one person Alex knows they can trust with this next jigsaw piece of their life, it’s her.

They’re still nervous, though.

What if Lucy is one of those people who can comprehend sexuality but not gender identity?

What if gay is okay, bi is fine, but this is a step too far?

What if their pronouns are where she draws the line in this friendship of over a decade?

Logically, there’s nothing in Lucy’s character that would result in the What Ifs becoming real. Alex has listened to enough of Lucy’s rants about how justice should be for all corners of the community to know that the chance of Lucy completely accepting them is greater than 95 %.

It’s then that Lucy pops up next to their shoulder with her bag on her back, waving a spare water bottle under Alex’s nose until they take it.

“Race ya,” is all she says in greeting before she takes off up the path with the grace of a mountain goat. Alex sighs and trudges after her.

It’s pure chance that Alex is walking past the practice room when its occupant stretches. Around their wrist is a woven bracelet in rainbow colours and another in what Alex knows with heart-stopping familiarity is the non-binary flag.

Alex pauses outside the ajar door. The person reveals themselves to be a pianist when they crack their knuckles and launch into a set of whirling scales. Alex stays outside for another half hour until the pianist stands, shovels their music into their bag and abruptly stops when they see Alex watching them.

“I need an accompanist,” says Alex bluntly. “How much do you charge?”

“Depends who it is,” the pianist says. They cross their arms and look Alex up and down. “What’s it for?”

“Concerto competition.” Alex doesn’t budge from the doorway.

The pianist nods. “Instrument?”

“Violin.”

“I’m Vasquez.” They hold out their hand and Alex shakes it firmly, and they can’t stop their eyes flicking down to Vasquez’s wrist.

“Alex. Danvers.”

“My card, Danvers. Now, I have class, if you don’t mind?”

Alex makes a mental note to get something to put their growing collection of business cards in as they take it and sidestep out of the way to let Vasquez past.

They don’t choose their moment. It just sort of happens as they near the top of the hill and pause for a snack.

“I want to start using they/them pronouns,” Alex says abruptly and Lucy keeps her eyes trained carefully on their face.

“Sure,” she says, an air of nonchalance about the word though it’s loaded with an invitation to expand.

“I’m non-binary,” offers Alex by way of explanation and Lucy’s gaze still doesn’t waver.

“That’s really cool, Al.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m glad you figured out whatever was on your mind.”

“Wait – you knew?”

The corner of Lucy’s mouth twitches in a part-smirk, part-smile. “Crinkle.”

Alex repeats it under their breath with a scowl.

“Yeah, like that,” Lucy points. “I knew something was bothering you. I didn’t know it was gender-related.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

Lucy smiles properly now, eyes soft and Alex feels like they’ve just been hugged. “I’m fine with it. You know, we’ve been through some tough shit together. It’ll take more than an identity crisis to get rid of me.”

Alex exhales loudly. “Thanks.”

“Thanks yourself.” Lucy digs into her bag and chucks Alex a bag of trail mix. “Who else knows?”

“Just you.” Alex watches her out of the corner of their eye. A flicker of confusion, then pride, passes over Lucy’s face.

“Did you want to have a play through now?” Vasquez waves them into their apartment and shuts the door, leading them through to a room at the back of the house which, Alex sees now, houses a gleaming upright piano, music stacked in piles all around the room. Alex fidgets with the strap over their shoulder.

“I only really came to give you this.” They hold out the accompaniment. Vasquez takes it and sits on the piano stool, kicking their feet out as they open it up. “Markings are inside.”

“Finally, a musician who knows what they’re doing,” Vasquez mutters and spins to lift up the lid and fold the music out in front of them. They wiggle their fingers and quickly play the first couple of measures with their right hand. Making a pleased noise in the back of their throat, they turn back to Alex who has their eyes closed, and coughs quietly. Alex’s eyes fly open.

“I’ve got a couple of hours free just now. You can put your case there.” Vasquez points to their rather large windowsill. “I’ll get a stand.”

Free of having to make the decision themselves, Alex does as instructed and takes a series of deep breaths as they apply resin to their bow, trying desperately to calm the panic that did its best to overcome them every time they even thought of playing in front of someone new.

“Have you thought about telling Kara? And your parents?”

“Kara yes, Mom and Dad no.” Alex sighs.

“From what I know about Kara, I don’t think she’ll have an issue with it,” says Lucy carefully.

“Is it fair to her for me to tell her, though?”

“Is it fair to you to not?”

“But can I ask her to keep it a secret? I mean, you know what she’s like with secrets, Lucy.”

“She’s okay with important stuff. You want to tell her at some point, right?”

“Yeah.” Alex sighs again and rubs their forehead. “I don’t like keeping things from her. But I don’t want to spook her.”

“Spook her?”

“I don’t want her to think that I’m not me anymore. I am still me.”

“She’ll know that, Alex.”

“How will she? She still has nightmares about the family she’s already lost. I can’t go to her and say ‘hey, the sister you thought you knew, the one who promised to protect you and love you no matter what? Well, she’s not who you thought she was.’”

“You said it yourself. You’re the same person.”

“Yes, but she doesn’t know that.” Frustration leaks into Alex’s voice and they hunch further into themselves. “She doesn’t know that I’ll still protect her and love her. She doesn’t know that I’m not abandoning her.”

“Give Kara some credit,” says Lucy. “She’s not going to think you’re abandoning her.”

“No? Lucy, she thinks I know everything. Not – not school stuff, not smart stuff, but she thinks I know everything about how this world works. So how can I confess that I am just as baffled by it, by my own mind as any other human being?”

“Alex,” breathes Lucy. Alex knows then that she’s seen straight through them. “None of this makes you weak.”

“I know, but…” Alex struggles for a moment. “The one thing I’ve always been able to rely on is my mind, and now I’m doubting everything I’ve ever known about myself and that is fucking scary.”

“But it’s also okay. Kara will get it. Doubting yourself is part of being human.”

“Oh yeah, Kara will get that,” snorts Alex. Lucy sticks her tongue out and some of the tension seeps out of Alex’s shoulders.

“Not my fault you have an alien for a sister. Some of us have flawed humans instead, thank God.”

Alex is silent for a moment. When they speak again, they can’t stop the panic clinging to their words.

“Lucy, how do I tell her I don’t want to be called her sister?”

They don’t hear Lucy’s reply the first time she gives it. They force their eyes to refocus on Lucy whose hand is squeezing their shoulder tight.

“You don’t have to stop being her sister. Gender neutral language is there if you want to use it, but you don’t have to.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been her sister,” says Alex. They stare at Lucy, who is still watching them with more patience than they’ve ever seen her exhibit. Their heart continues to pound. “Ever since she arrived, we’ve always been the Danvers sisters. People have taken us as a package deal. The Danvers Sisters, who should come with a warning. Y’know. All that stuff. A unit. But I don’t think I’ve ever felt like a sister, exactly. It’s not a wrong description, just not the best fit. So maybe sibling is.”

Being around Vasquez is comfortable. There’s no personal information exchanged at any of their meetings. They interact for the music only, and it’s freeing.

Alex doesn’t bring up gender, and neither does Vasquez, though Alex suspects they have an inkling. Alex runs into Vasquez’s girlfriend as they’re leaving a rehearsal one evening and they shake her hand with a tight smile.

They know for sure that Vasquez knows after their first attempt at playing while binding. It’s only then that Alex realises how long their break from the violin had been. By the time they’d found both the courage and the funds to buy their first binder, their violin had to have been collecting dust for a matter of years, so they hadn’t thought twice about scheduling a two-hour practice with Vasquez on a binding day.

Alex plays for half an hour before their side twinges and their bow stutters on the strings. Vasquez waits patiently for them to stretch and they continue, fingers hammering away, barely making it to the end of the movement before they have to stretch again. They think nothing of it until they enter a fast passage and the number of breaths they’re taking isn’t getting them the amount of air they need and they stop abruptly.

Their heart is pounding and their head starting to swim a little, and Alex takes three stumbling steps to the side to put down their violin and lean against the wall, breathing as deeply as possible and feeling more claustrophobic than they’ve ever felt in their life.

“Bathroom?” they manage to squeeze out, and Vasquez points them to it without a word. They fumble with their shirt buttons and grip the hem of their binder as tightly as they can, peeling it up until they can take an unrestricted breath in. They begin to relax, binder still tangled around their shoulders, arms around their head, and give two hefty coughs.

“You have to learn to breathe with the music.”

Alex frowns as they take in these new instructions. “Why?”

“Think of this piece, any piece, as a series of musical sentences. It makes no sense if you play it without phrasing those sentences, just as it makes no sense to perform a play in a monotonous voice.”

Alex doesn’t look convinced.

Eventually, Alex pulls their binder off. They stay in the bathroom, sat on the closed lid of the toilet, running the material through their fingers as they work out an escape plan.

Vasquez comes to the rescue when they knock, and Alex realises how long they’ve been in there.

“Danvers, all okay?”

“Yeah,” they reply shortly. Embarrassment runs up their neck, red.

“Do you want to borrow a baggy hoodie?”

Alex sits up a bit. “Please.” They listen as footsteps retreat and then return, and they pop the lock on the door to crack it open. Vasquez’s hand dangles a deep blue, almost unfairly soft-looking hoodie where they think Alex’s hands are and Alex takes it, gratefully.

As they pull it on and fold their binder into a small enough wad to stuff in their back pocket, Alex concedes to themselves that Maggie’s point, made as she set up in another bar, about meeting other people in the community being useful and nice might have been a good one.

“Have you ever watched a really, really good orchestra play? Have you noticed that before they start, everyone takes a deep breath, together? String players, percussionists, the conductor, as well as the musicians who need to actually blow into their instruments. That’s because it’s part of the music.”

Alex did the research before they bought the binder. They know the risks, the safety concerns, and as much as they hate it, they take a week’s break from binding while their ribs recover and they get their confidence in their playing back. It’s okay for the days when they don’t mind their chest not being so flat. It’s okay for lab days, where they’ve long made their peace with the fact that an eight-hour lab session followed by another five in the library is several hours’ binding too many – and anyway, their lab coat covers most of what they want to hide. The other days?

They’re hell.

There’s no reason, absolutely no reason at all why they should feel like this.

But they do.

It’s unsettling.

Both in how it just appears and how it feels, the sensation of something being not quite right and yet they can’t put their finger on what.

The dysphoria sets in early one morning before they’ve even properly woken up, and for the first time, Alex seriously contemplates skipping classes to hide under their duvet. Instead, they bundle up in far too many layers for the weather with their favourite beanie and jeans and brave the unsuspecting lecture theatre.

They barely last the day. As soon as their last lecture finishes, they’re rushing back to change into their baggy shorts and two-sizes-too-big hoodie. It’s the wrong size by accident, but when they wear it and slouch a little, it’s almost as good as their binder, and brings with it a sense of relief that nearly makes Alex cry.

Rao.

It’s

dysphoria.

And

and suddenly that makes so much sense because if there is one feeling that characterises discomfort or distress at the mismatch between what Eliza says and what their heart feels then this is it, this is it,

it’s dysphoria.

But having the label for this godawful feeling that they’ve had before doesn’t help and if anything, it makes it worse because there is nothing they can do.

Nothing.

So they go for a run.

They bind.

They contemplate, just for a moment, pulling out their violin but no, no, bad, bad idea.

They bind and they wear their favourite jeans that hide their hips and their favourite beanie that makes their jaw look sharper and their favourite shirt that hugs their shoulders and their hoodie, their faithful hoodie.

Their mind is fogged up and numb. It lingers for days, and they know Lucy has noticed now because Alex is not quite as sharp with their comebacks as they usually are, they’re not as bothered about the mud on the floor or the noise Lucy makes coming in early in the morning.

Maggie notices, and Alex fights the instinct to push her away and hide.

Instead, they try to do their best to explain. Maggie tries to understand. They’re sure they botch the explanation of what’s wrong amid disgusted mumbles about silhouettes and reflections and clothes that don’t hang the way they should.

It’s just one of those things, they suppose, that’s hard to understand if you’ve never experienced it.

Nevertheless, the discomfort sits on the back of their tongue and they curl up on their bed with the latest edition of Nature – the one piece of post Eliza is never late at sending on – and retreat behind the familiar shield of science. It helps, the tiniest bit.

Gone is the unease they’d felt at the idea of grieving in the room they shared with Lucy. In its place is the terror at being anywhere outside the room where they could be seen, and it completely slips their mind that they’re meant to be meeting Maggie at the library.

“Danvers?”

No.

No no no no Maggie can’t see them like this, no. Telling her about it and seeing her react to them as this wreck are two completely different things.

“Al, you in there?”

There’s scraping of keys in the lock and Alex wonders just for a second when they gave Maggie a key (and how they had a key to give her) but then two of their three favourite people are pouring through the door and the concern isn’t just on Lucy’s face but on Maggie’s too.

Concern, and not disgust.

Alex’s initial reaction is to dart off their bed and stand awkwardly by their desk, hand in their hair as though everything is fine.

They ignore the exchanged look that means Maggie and Lucy have seen right through them.

“Hey, guys,” they say. “Good day? How’re you both doing? Everything’s good here.”

“Cut it out, Alex.” They can tell Maggie means business in that take-no-shit way of hers. She folds her arms and shifts her weight onto one leg and eyeballs them, hard. “What can I do? To help you?”

Alex shrugs and folds their own arms.

“What do you usually do?”

“None of that’s working,” Alex grits out. “I – it – usually I can work my way through this but it’s not working, and I don’t know why.”

They slowly slip back onto their bed. Lucy and Maggie settle either side of them. The three sit in silence until Maggie gives a deep sigh, squeezing Alex’s knee.

“I have a friend – from my own support group, you really should give them a try – who’s dating someone non-binary. I can see if they’d be willing to meet you, or we could meet up the four of us, or something. It’s got to be better than this, right?”

She has a point. And even though they can think of very few things worse than having to talk about feelings with a stranger - even a stranger vetted by Maggie – the prospect of someone understanding what this feels like is quite attractive.

***

It turns out to be the thing that helps most in perhaps the most surprising way, because this non-binary acquaintance is actually Vasquez.

They didn’t know Maggie and Vasquez’s girlfriend knew each other.

Vasquez didn’t know that Maggie and Alex knew each other either, apparently.

Maggie goes to introduce Alex to Vasquez and Erin and sees the nods of recognition the three of them share.

Somehow Vasquez knows them well enough to let them take the lead and Alex stumbles through an explanation because gender and music in the same space? Unchartered, unsettling territory. Maggie, thankfully, doesn’t press it, but with the furrow in her brow, Alex can see her marking it as a conversation for later.

Maggie and Erin head for the pool table while Vasquez settles opposite Alex at the booth. Alex can sense it coming – and it’s hard to not bolt, but they trust Maggie and they trust Vasquez to a point and if Maggie thinks this could help them, then, well. It’s worth a try, they reckon. In their head, they nod decisively, and they sit a little taller.

“Alright, Danvers?” says Vasquez casually and Alex nods again, leaning back and taking a sip of lukewarm beer. Vasquez leans closer, clearly not one to beat around the bush. “Erin said that Maggie said you wanted to meet more people like us.”

Alex stiffens despite themselves.

“I’m part of a group who do game nights and trips to the movies, stuff like that. It’s a group where none of us are cis.”

Impossibly, Alex stiffens more.

“You don’t have to make any proper commitment,” continues Vasquez as they study the collection of beer mats on the table, avoiding eye contact that Alex doesn’t want to make. “I can let you know when we’re meeting and you can decide on a case by case basis, if you’d like.”

Alex gives a shrug. They want it to be dismissive, but it ends up more curious.

“And listen. This kind of chat isn’t my forte either, but I know what it’s like to feel alone with…stuff like this, and I want you to know that I’m here for you as much or as little as you want me to be. It doesn’t change anything that happens musically between us. And we never have to speak about this again.”

“Sounds great,” manages Alex. Vasquez’s eyes twinkle at them in a relieved smirk.

“What do you say we go and show them how to really play pool?”

Alex gratefully follows them to where their girlfriends are setting up a new game. Alex leans into Maggie’s side and wraps an arm around her waist, leaning down to whispers a ‘thank you’ in her ear. Maggie squeezes their hand briefly and hip checks them as she hands them her cue.

***

“Why do you not talk about your music?”

It comes out of the blue as they walk hand-in-hand to Maggie’s room. Alex sighs.

“It’s not a criticism,” clarifies Maggie. “You’re intensely private about it, even with me. Even with Lucy.”

“Are you not?”

“How could I? I play in public more than anything else. I guess, I don’t have the luxury of privacy when it comes to music.”

Alex chews their lip. “Kara…and my mom. They’ve been the priority since Dad died, y’know? It never ends well if I express any sort of opinion at home and I think,” they say slowly, “that part of me still feels ashamed that I’m doing something that lets me be angry at the universe for taking Dad.”

Maggie hms beside them. “I’m sorry, Alex.”

“Oh, it’s, eh,” dismisses Alex.

“No.” Maggie spins them so she can look up seriously into Alex’s eyes. “The days of you pushing down your feelings are officially over, Alex.”

Alex doesn’t know what to do with that, so they just kiss her.

#nb!alex #sanvers #sanvers au #sanvers fic #alex danvers #medicine for the soul #my fic #i appear to have lost the ability to put in page breaks #hm #hey ho #enjoy?

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pheonixandthewisteria · 6 years ago

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So @m-iikan tagged me in a little tag post thing-y and sorrY for the delay I uhhh, haven’t been on tumblr much recently, but nevertheless,, So this is a tag 11 people and respond to the questions and ask your own then!~ So lets get right on in~ 1) What song have you had on repeat recently? Umm,,, for me I listen to a lot of music so there’s been like 3 on repeat recently, and those are; Alec Benjamin - The Wolf and the Sheep, Ruelle - Game of Survival, and Lindsey Stirling - Crystallize.

2) If the apocalypse arrived and you had to survive for whatever reason and you could only pick one person you met online to help you get through, who would it be and why? Well, I’ve only met a few people online honestly, it would be my friends Max and Vanner or you @m-iikan. So I totally adore all of you and I’m honestly the type who enjoys meeting new people (even if it does exhaust me and make me nervous at times) and learning more about them, who they are, why they are. Max and Vanner would be because we already bonded so much over so many things and having someone else who understands a lot about how I operate and feel over things would be good. Next, M-iikan, it’s cause I’m totally excited to hypothetically(I wouldn’t force anyone) to meet you, we’ve spoken only a few times, and it wasn’t always positive but I feel like we could get a better environment created and get our heads above the water! 3) Favourite Book?

Hhh, umm.... This is more impulse because I’m watching the Shadowhunter Series, but I really Loved the Infernal Devices by Cassandra Clare, I love Will and Jem and Tessa so much, I just wish- *deleted for safety of spoilers x33*

4) What’s one food you can never get tired of?

Crab Meat Tempura. I’m love. One true love.

5) Best thing that happened to you in the past year? Quitting my job at a retail store and starting in a manufacturing company, it seems kinda simple but it is so much better, I sleep a lot better, I don’t spend time after work thinking of ways to get out of work nearly as often, don’t feel nearly as depressed due to the pressure that company put on me, so I’ll have to say that changed my mentality quite a bit. It was a risk at the start but, it was definitely worth it.

6) Shuffle your music what plays first? (I refuse to list how many times I decided against the first song it plays because its itunes and I have too many songs I shame myself for having not deleted yet) But we’ll go with the first song that I actually enjoy listening to that played was Exec_Flip_Arphage by Shikata Akiko from the Ar Tonelico III game.

7) Favourite TV show ever?

Hrm, I’ll assume this doesn’t include anime to keep my nerdism in, but I already alluded to this show before, but I absolutely adore the Shadowhunters Series. It’s on Hulu and I hate that it’s almost over, even though I know it was probably only intended to follow the Mortal Instruments books... The series is based on the books by Cassandra Clare, one of my all time favourite writers.

8) Favourite Memory

Hhholy cats, I umm... I’ll actually chose the memories I have for a particular home I lived in, but my favourite memory has to be a random blurry memory from when I was reallllly young, like hmm, maybe 2-5 years old. I had been with my family for Christmas and my uncle Lane and I had built a little fort of christmas presents and I had a little peek hole to see my family but declared myself (I think, mind you this is a very distant memory) queen of the presents, before taking them to each person whom they were for. 9) What kind of weather do you prefer most?

When it is only lightly raining and typically in autumn so you can smell the trees in the air and sunny enough to make it not be outright cold. I’m also fond of when it’s windy on a sunny warm day, not too warm just warm enough to be tank top and shorts weather.

10) Favourite fictional character and why? This question always kills me, but I’ll say Sai/X/The Phantom Thief from Majin Tantei Nougami Neuro created by Yusei Matsui. Next is Sai from Majin Tantei, So, they’re kinda the main villain for a large portion of it, but they’re just trying to find themself, TBH the gender thing for Sai is largely confusing, so I’ll stick with they/them for them due to it being a complex spoiler if I go too far into it, but they just wrecked my heart with their story and their background and what happened with Ai, I found myself sobbing through quite a lot of Majin Tantei because the characters are so good, Sai was an understandable villain who did grotesque things not always with the best intentions, but to teach a lesson of cherishing what you have before it’s gone, it’s kinda crazy really, Sai is an inventive mind, with a complete comprehension that what their doing is wrong but continuing despite that and accepting that there would be consequences, Sai is a very grey-morally character and just deserves a hug and then some tbh.

11) What can you normally find in your bag?

My ipod/Headphones (for music), a notebook for writing down rogue ideas from out of nowhere, snacks, a fan (for cons), and a few different forms of pain meds for headaches, because I get them easily especially after I got a concussion (again?) in my junior year of high school.

Wow sorry that I ramble so much I’ve been in a poetic talk-y mood today out of nowhere. And onto the questions:

1) Favourite myth and why? 2) A character you were not fond of due to their goals, but you could still respect their decision/reasoning?

3) List your favourite band or a few if you are indecisive like me~

4) If you could change your eye colour to any one you wanted regardless of genetic possibility, what colour would it be and why?” 5) Do you have a favourite foreign(not of your locale except in restaurants or such like that I guess?) food/drink and what is it? 6) When you think of masks, what sort of masks do you think of? (Examples being like Noh masks, theatrical masks, or venetian masks, etc. feel free to use these, you don’t need exact names if you don’t know them describe them~) 7) Favourite movie from when you were a child? 8) What sort of blanket do you like to sleep with (if any)?

9) If you could go to a library with infinite knowledge, what one book would you pick off the shelf and what would it be about?

10) What sort of clothes would you wear if you could wear whatever you want regardless of consequences?

11) A fictional character that you love but often find yourself getting mad at due to their choices? SOrry my questions are a bit odd, I like to sprinkle a little oddity into them and kinda get a feel for what sort of things people think of, I like to learn about people through this odd little test of random questions that make them think.

Alright, I tag @gabriel-morrison-reyes @killus-donuts-trashcan @coreytasticc @arbiters-grounds @bugslamp @maiea-maiea @darkeecofreak and anyone else who feel like doing this random set of questions~ Mind you, none of you have to participate either, voluntary choice! I chose mostly people I know irl or who I am intrigued to get to know better or hear the answers of~ Thank you~

#long #long post #im so sorry #I blabb #english who

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fluffymusketeer · 7 years ago

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Mirror, Mirror

It is a strange thing, to share your bedroom with a stranger from another dimension.

I was struggling for inspiration today so I wrote a drabble! Well, I say drabble, it’s like 2.5k words which is pretty concise for me, so I decided to post it here on tumblr instead of AO3. It’s Levi/Eren, Teen + Up, Reincarnation (kinda), and um… I suppose character death? Sort of. There’s angst. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

It happens after a long shift. They’d lost a patient en route to the ER that day, and all Eren wants is to crack open a bottle of wine and sink into oblivion.

He glances idly at his full-length bedroom mirror as he’s peeling off his clothes. Instead of scruffy brown hair, tired eyes, and a fading green uniform, he finds another world reflected.

“Huh,” Eren says, scratching his head.

The world in the mirror is a person’s bedroom, neat and spartan. Eren can almost smell the wood polish on the worn surfaces.

Of course Eren tries sticking his hand through the mirror, and checking behind it, and for good measure he examines the corners of his bedroom for hidden cameras. Nothing is out of the ordinary. It’s his mirror. Same white frame, same shiny screws, even the same smudges on the glass.

It’s just not his reflection in the mirror. It’s somebody else’s bedroom.

He drags a chair in and eats his microwave dinner-for-one while staring at the empty bedroom. It’s raining in the mirror world. Eren can see a rainbow through the window.

He’s getting into his pyjamas when there is movement in the mirror. Eren’s back snaps straight and he watches as a middle aged man slams open the door and marches in, shaking out wet hair which is greying at the temples. There is no sound coming from the mirror world. Just images.

“Hello?” Eren steps closer to the mirror. “Can you hear me?”

Evidently not. The man stomps about the bedroom, shucking wet clothes and scowling. His hair is styled in an undercut. Eren doesn’t recognise him.

The man is unbuttoning his shirt to reveal taut abdominal muscles criss-crossed with faint scars when he finally glances at the mirror. He does a double take.

Eren offers an embarrassed wave.

The man stands frozen in the middle of his bedroom, mouth agape. Eren watches in growing alarm as the colour drains from his already pale features.

“I’m— I’m sorry,” Eren says. “I don’t know how this happened.”

He mouths a word. Eren can hear no sound, none whatsoever, but he recognises the shapes the other man is making with his lips. Eren, he is saying. Eren.

“You know my name?”

The man walks up to his side of the mirror and reaches out.

Eren steps back instinctively.

The man’s hand hits glass. He presses his palm against it, the skin going white with pressure. Thin eyebrows draw together in confusion. He looks back up at Eren and says something, words Eren can neither hear nor recognise.

“I’m sorry.” Eren points to his ear. “I can’t hear you.”

Eren, he mouths again.

Eren shrugs. He hasn’t a clue. Suddenly the man slaps his palm against the mirror.

“Hey, don’t do that—”

Then the mirror world is tilting and Eren feels weirdly off balance, until he realises the man on the other side has lifted his own mirror up to check behind it. The world of the neat bedroom returns, and the man is carefully examining the edges of his side of the mirror, pressing his fingers into the corners as if they will give way.

Finally, he grows frustrated.

His lips form a silent shout. Eren! He hits the mirror with his fist. Again. And again.

Eren is alarmed by the show of distress. He raises his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Hey,” he says. “Hey, it’s okay.”

The mirror on the other side can take no more. A solid slam of a fist and the glass cracks into a thousand splinters. The last thing Eren sees is the man’s horrified expression as he reaches a bloody hand up to stop what is happening, and then the mirror shatters.

Eren is left staring at his own reflection, pale and shocked in his own unbroken mirror.

He waits for a long time, but the mirror world does not return.

Three days later, Eren is carrying an armful of toilet rolls through to his en suite bathroom when he notices the mirror world has reappeared. “Oh!” he says in surprise, and drops the toilet rolls. They scatter across his bedroom floor, rolling under his bed.

The view of the spartan bedroom is different, as if the man’s side of the mirror has moved position. He is there, slouched in an armchair in the corner, legs stretched out and arms crossed.

After several seconds, he glances idly towards the mirror. Eren waves again.

The man scrambles up, says Eren, and strides to the mirror.

“Hello,” Eren says. “I guess you replaced your mirror, huh?”

The man is speaking words Eren cannot understand, and while Eren can tell he is growing frustrated again, he seems much more in control of his temper. His eyes roam across Eren’s face, grey and searching. The way he gazes makes a blush creep into Eren’s cheeks.

“I still can’t understand you,” Eren says. “But I have an idea. Stay right there.”

He heads to the kitchen to fetch a pad of paper and a pen.

When he returns, there is another person in the room with the man. Eren isn’t sure if they are male or female, but they are wearing an eye patch and scratching their head.

Eren waits until the man notices him.

His grey eyes widen and he gesticulates wildly at the mirror, looking between it and his companion. Eren dutifully waves, but it’s as if the other person is looking right through him. They shake their head and look confused. Eren does not miss the worried look they send the man’s way when he’s busy staring at Eren.

“They can’t see me,” Eren concludes.

The man seems to come to a similar conclusion, and snaps something at his companion. After brief words and tense body language, the man’s companion leaves.

Eren writes ‘Can you read this?’ on his pad of paper. The man stares at it. He looks back up at Eren, eyes lost.

Eren writes his own name, because the man seems to know it, and holds that up instead. But that too is a non-starter, and when the man himself tries the same trick, grabbing a sheet of paper and a strange old-fashioned looking pen from his desk, Eren realises why.

“I’ve never seen writing like that before,” Eren says. “I have no idea what that means.”

Eren, the man mouths.

Eren sighs deeply. “I wish I knew your name.”

The pads of paper and pens are tossed aside and they stare at each other in frustration. The man in the mirror’s greying hair is mussed and untidy, and his soft bedclothes look rumpled. Eren suspects he himself is the reason for the distress, and he doesn’t know why.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and puts his hand against the glass of the mirror.

The man reaches out and lines his palm up with Eren’s. Eren feels nothing but cold glass. It’s just a mirror. The man presses his forehead against the glass, closes his eyes, and his shoulders begin to shake.

“I’m sorry,” Eren says again.

He wishes he could make the pain go away.

It is a strange thing, to share your bedroom with a stranger from another dimension.

Eren asks his Mom to take a look at the mirror. She tells him his clothes are just as unfolded in the mirror as they are in reality, and it’s about time he found a nice man to look after him. He is forced to shoo her away when she starts folding his underwear, supremely conscious of the curious and perhaps even slightly amused gaze of the man in his mirror.

One time, after a particularly depressing shift which involves attending a multi-car pileup on the freeway, he goes for a drink with a male nurse from the ER that Petra introduces him to. They wind up stumbling into his apartment later that night, tearing at each other’s clothes.

Eren heads to his bedroom to freshen up. When he puts the light on, he startles the mirror man, who is reading on his bed. He puts his book down, amiably strolling over.

He freezes when he sees Eren’s debauched state, staring at the hickeys.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I’m twenty nine,” Eren grumbles.

It takes him long seconds to understand the expression which creases the man’s face. It’s hurt. Confusion, and pain, and heartbreak, and hurt.

“Oh,” Eren says. “Oh.”

His ardour goes down quickly after that. No matter how hard he tries to get back into things on the sofa, he cannot forget the man in his mirror and the expression on his face. In the end, Eren makes his excuses and books a taxi for the cute nurse, and wonders how he will explain it to Petra.

The man stares at him as he finally clambers into bed. Alone.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eren says. “Thanks for the cockblock, buddy.” He switches off the light.

Not long after, Eren has an unexpected morning off due to a last minute shift change, and catches the man in the mirror fresh from a shower. At first Eren is transfixed by the ripped abdominal muscles and flexing biceps, but soon he notices fresh wounds across the man’s rib cage. He looks like he’s been mauled by some kind of animal.

“You’re hurt,” Eren says.

The man is bandaging himself up with practiced efficiency, regarding Eren with a look he cannot decipher.

“You… you really need stitches,” Eren points out. He watches the man, and the man watches him, and finally Eren asks, “What do you do?”

He gets no answer.

Eren grows worried about the man in his mirror. He knows it’s silly. He should be worried about himself. He could be having some kind of psychotic break, seeing things that nobody else can, and with his job…

Instead he’s teaching the mirror man how to play Go Fish. It’s an awkward endeavour, requires two decks of cards and a lot of ill-drawn pictorial rules, but they are getting there.

“Your friend with the eye patch is getting worried about you,” Eren remarks casually.

The man in the mirror holds up three fingers.

“No threes,” Eren says, and does their agreed-upon hand wriggle. “Go Fish.”

The man takes a card from his deck. His shoulders slump, and he gestures for Eren to continue.

“Every time you go to your job, you come back injured,” Eren says. “Are you not very good at it, or are you being reckless?”

The man gestures at Eren’s cards impatiently.

“I don’t know what you do for a living,” Eren says. “But please be careful. For me?”

The man is calm right now, interested in the game, but sometimes he looks at Eren with tears in his eyes. Sometimes he looks at Eren with yearning.

Eren is worried about the man in the mirror.

One night, the man does not come to bed. Eren doesn’t grow alarmed until two days later, when he still hasn’t returned. Eren paces in front of his mirror, rakes his fingers through his hair, and realises the man isn’t the only one who has gotten attached.

The book the man had been reading when he’d last left the room sits untouched and unfinished on the bedside table.

Dust motes float in the red evening light of the mirror world.

“Where are you?” Eren asks into the empty space, feeling sick.

He never comes back. It is two weeks before the companion with the eyepatch opens the door to the bedroom, and as soon as Eren sees their blotchy face, he knows.

“No,” he says.

He watches, stifling his sobs with the back of his hand, as the companion begins to sort through the man’s belongings with stilted movements. After an hour or so, a girl that Eren has never seen before comes in, wearing an ancient and tattered red scarf. She takes one look at the growing chaos and rolls her sleeves up to help. Eren is glad, because the man likes to keep his room tidy, and it seems a sacrilege to mess it up after—

He phones his Mom.

“Eren,” Carla says. “What on earth has happened?”

“Mom,” he sobs.

“Hold on, baby. I’m on my way.”

When they remove the last of the man’s belongings from the bedroom, the world in the mirror fades away.

Six months later, Eren and Petra are called to the scene of an accident. It’s in a state-managed forest, and they are trudging up a dirt trail with the stretcher and medical gear. Petra says, “This is ridiculous! We’re going to need the air ambulance, you know.”

“They think it’s just a broken leg,” Eren tells her.

“I’m always right about these things, Eren.”

They come across the scene of the accident. “Thank god you’re here,” one of the other tree surgeons says. “He’s awake but he’s really woozy. We haven’t moved him.”

“Where?” Eren asks.

He stops short. On the ground, surrounded by fussing colleagues, is the man from the mirror.

Eren pushes through, heart lurching beneath his ribcage. “Give me space,” he says, and kneels down.

It’s the same man. The exact same. Rounded cheeks, dark hair with wisps of silver grey, pale eyes blinking at the sky. He even has the same biceps, which Eren is ashamed to realise he has memorised far too well. The only differences are the Forest Service overalls and the broken yellow hard hat.

Eren peers up at the tree, at the jagged branch from which half the man’s harness still hangs.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

Eren looks down at the man, who is staring up at him.

“The branch fucking broke. It wasn’t my fault.” His voice is deep and clipped and exactly like Eren imagined. “Stupid, though,” he mutters.

“Oh?” Eren says, and gently begins to examine the man’s neck.

“Who are you?” the man asks.

Eren signals for Petra, who has the neck brace ready and waiting. “I’m Eren,” he says. “We’re going to take you to the ER, okay?”

“Oh, great.”

Eren takes a deep breath. He cannot believe that the man in the mirror is real. He’s here, and he’s solid, and thank fuck his neck isn’t broken. Is it the same man? He doesn’t appear to recognise Eren, though Eren can feel his gaze intently nonetheless.

“You’re pretty cute,” the man says.

Eren blinks.

“Oh god, I just said that, didn’t I? Fuck.” The man’s cheeks are going red. “Nice one, Levi. Just ignore me, ignore me.”

“Your name is Levi?” Eren asks.

The man stares, going redder. “Yeah,” he says slowly.

“Levi,” Eren repeats. He takes the man’s hand, and squeezes. “I’m going to take care of you, Levi.”

Eren can feel Petra staring at him, but all he sees is silver. Pale eyes that are open and wide and here. Something in them flashes, a spark, a sign, a something.

A something which is mirrored in Eren’s soul.

Levi swallows, and his fingers squeeze back. “Your name is Eren,” he says, eyebrows knitting into an introspective frown. “And mine is Levi.”

“Yes,” Eren says. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Levi.”

~ THE END ~

#danni's drabbles #danni's fanfic #eren x levi #mirror mirror

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ophelialoveshandsomemen · 4 years ago

Text

S.I.M.P.L.E

A story about Dean having the apple-pie life he’s always wanted. As told by Sam’s perspective. Sometimes. Just roll with it, I wrote this for my own fun. Figured maybe all you lovely people could get a shot at enjoying it too!

Disclaimer. All mistakes are mine. The French-Canadian OFC is mine. The WInchester kids are mine. Dean, Sam and the rest of the SPN cast of characters, unfortunately, are not mine.

I believe @justjensenanddean owns one of the pics in the collage. Maybe… It was a while ago. Nicely let me know if I should take it down. Or if this is illegal or something, tumblr is still mildly confusing to me.

Summary. Sam learns some more about his quirky nephews and beautiful nieces.

Chapter 2: Dean’s Magnificent Family of Seven.

Sam dried off his hair, after his luxuriously long shower, with a towel that smelled vaguely of moss and oranges. It made him wonder if his newly discovered sister-in-law leaves the clothes outside to dry or if she actually uses a soap that is scented like moss and oranges. He did see a washing machine when he passed by the laundry room a little earlier, but he hadn't caught sight of a dryer. Louisa does strike Sam as the slightly more old-school type, so it's very possible that she just doesn't have one. He wonders exactly how old Louisa is, anyway? He's pretty sure that there's no grey in her hair and she was running really fast for a pregnant mother of four. But Sam just can't imagine his big brother to have actually married a woman that much younger than himself. Meh, maybe she simply athletic.

As he cautiously exits the steaming bathroom in the house's spacious and well-lit basement, Sam peeks around the corner to see if any of the kids are hanging about, ready to pounce on him. They aren't shy, that's for sure. He sighs a bit in relief, really, until he sees one of the twins, Robert, he thinks, pad over to him from the den where the two older kids are watching, is that The Magnificent Seven? Oh Dean... Sam crouches down to Robert's level. The boy seems to eye him warily, then leans in to whisper in his ear.

"Pweas, come wi meh. Stasie neeeeds ew!"

Sam nods quickly and lets Robert lead him to a nursery on the other side of the basement, where Anastasie was floating above her crib as she whimpered. Sam gulps. 'Not good.' She turned her head towards Sam and his heart fell into the pit of his stomach. They glowed a very faint blue. The same colour as Michael's... Before Sam could have a nervous breakdown about it though, Robert tugged on his sleeve to pull his ear back down to his level.

"Do't orry bout bue eyeses, aways ave 't. Wo't urtuh. Wan ick up!"

Sam, thankfully caught on to the fact that the kid said she won't hurt him and that she wants to be picked up. As soon as Sam grabbed her, her eyes turned a normal dark brown and her weight dropped into Sam's arms. He heard Robert say 'Tank ew.' and 'Come wi meh.' right before he was left alone with his thoughts in the forest green nursery.

What the hell! Don't be what I think you are!

He went and sat with the kids as they watched The Magnificent Seven, trying to figure out how he was gonna bring this up with Dean, when Marie plopped down beside him and said "Uncle Sammy we need to talk."

"Um, okay. What about Marie?" "What you just saw in the nursery. See, Mama was three months pregnant with Anastasie when Dad got possessed by the bad angel." "Archangel, you nimrod!" John-Henry interrupted from his spot under the hand carved coffee-table where he appeared to be searching for something. "Shut up dirt-bag! Anyway, Mama didn't know about the possession and when Dad sho..." "Or who she thought was Dad!" "I said shut it! Showed up Mommy was a bit confused, but sometimes Daddy acts a bit strange anyways. We were all asleep and didn't see him that night. But the next morning when I woke up Mama was in the kitchen crying and Dad was gone. Seems when Mama and Daddy got "reacquainted" the night before Mommy found out about the angel and how he'd given some weird power glow stick stuff to Anastasie." "It's called 'grace' idiot! And it's still archangel..."

Marie stuck her tongue out at him for that. Sam's head is reeling with information now. Between the fact that, apparently, archangels can turn already conceived children into partial nephilim and the fact that Marie used air-quotes and a metaphor for sex at the age of seven, Sam just didn't know what to think.

"Where are your Mommy and " he swallowed, "Dad?" Sam had never had to call Dean a dad. The word suddenly felt foreign on his tongue.

John-Henry shrugs as he lowers the volume on the movie using the remote he'd been looking for. "Getting reacquainted. Usually takes them twenty or so minutes. Unless Dad's been gone a while, then it can take an hour. That's when Marie and me watch a movie."

I shouldn't have asked...

"And Robert? Doesn't he watch the movie too?" " Robbie likes to sleep instead. Or play with the pool balls on the billiards table behind you." Marie answered.

Course there's a pool table. Did I really expect any less? Next up will be a trampoline and a gun range! Jeez!

"Mama's calling! Time for dinner!" "Yippee!" " You coming, Uncle Sammy?"

Sam must have really been out of it. He hadn't heard Louisa calling at all.

"Yeah, I'm right behind you sweetie..."

The whole family somehow settled down and sat at the heavyset, oblong, wooden table in the kitchen. Which was quite cute, in Sam's opinion. Yellow walls with dark blue trimmings and dark pine cabinets that had deer antlers for handles. Bit clashy maybe. But cute. Bright. It looked like a fairy tale cottage had a baby with a hunter's cabin, to be exact. Sam's attention was caught, again by Marie, when she made a comment about hoping that her Dad hadn't put another twin inside her Mommy like he did for the boys. Louisa snorted her juice out her nose, she was laughing so hard. "Honey," she said after, " I'm not sure that can happen twice to the same mama, so I think you're okay for now."

When Sam gave Dean the dude-what-is-she-saying face, Dean rolled his eyes and took a deep breathe before answering.

"Well apparently, some ladies can get pregnant after they're already, you know, pregnant. John-Henry and Robert were born at the same time, but not, uh, made at the same time. It's why Robert is so much smaller than John-Henry and has a bit of trouble pronouncing. He was on oxygen or some crap like that for a few weeks after he was born because he was technically two and a half months premature. But Johnny here was good to go within a day."

"Lord I hated that labour! Everyone buzzing around like headless goats and moaning on and on about how the babies mightn't make it! I ended up throwing everyone except Dean out of the room before the doctor forced himself back in. Which took just long enough for Robert to be born, then Doctor Ominous insisted on delivering John-Henry. I swore to never darken the door of a maternity ward again afterwards and so far haven't broken that oath, either!" Louisa smiled at Dean. "Lucky for me, I have a husband who is more than willing to stay home with me and bring these little ones into the world."

Louisa fondly kissed Dean at that, the kids giggling in the background as they did. Unfortunately, Louisa leaning over gave Sam the full view of her neck which exposed a blooming hickey. Sam shuddered.

"So, Dean was the one who helped with both of the girls?"

Sam both hoped and dreaded that the flippant question would pull a reaction from either Louisa or Dean which would inform Sam about the whole Micheal-gave -my-baby-sister-voodoo-powers thing. He wasn't disappointed. Dean's face immediately fell and Louisa bit her lips, responding " Technically, Michael delivered Anastasie. But now is not a good time to talk about that."

Supper was served by Louisa. A chili con carni made with beef chunks as well as hamburger. It also had sweet corn and some sort of white corn, possibly native corn, in it. Sam had to admit, for the amount of unhealthy cholesterol in this ungodly meat mix, the chili tasted divine. No wonder Dean was slowly but steadily gaining weight in the last eight years. Not that the diner food helped any either. Sometime in between Marie and John-Henry fighting over Lord knows what and Anastasie puking up half of her steak and peas mush all over Louisa's t-shirt, Robert, who was having a lot of trouble finishing his meal, grabbed his plate and silently slid into Dean's lap. That's when Sam noticed Dean's smile return, after the unwanted attention brought on about Michael. Robert settled in and tightly clung to Dean's waist. Dean wordlessly began to spoon feed him, eating his own chili in between hesitantly taken bites from Robbie. Robert never made a sound...

Sam began to wonder if the boy was naturally clingy or if his silent demeanor and slight anti-sociability was an indication to something else, due to being premature.

Supper ended on a anti-climactic note, in all honesty. Louisa carted Anastasie off to be washed, given gripe water to settle her stomach and set to play in the living room/study beside the kitchen. Marie and JH ran outside, having barely washed their hands forehand, and paying no mind to Dean yelling at them to stay in the yard or so help him. Sam sat back, drinking some unlabelled beer Dean had pulled out of the fridge. He chuckled under his breath at the sight of Robert with his shaggy head tucked beneath Dean's chin. Dean is humming Old Cotton Fields by CCR.

"Dean?" "Hmm?" "When did you and Louisa get married? You are married aren't you?" "Yeah, got married back in 2011, on Louisa's 20th birthday, June 10th. Most of her family refused to come cause she was marrying some no name pool stick slinging drunkard who drove a muscle car and was a little too handy with a shotgun for her mom's liking." Dean's pensive for a moment. "You know, in the end, only her dad and her oldest sister with her family attended. And two of her friends from college, they were the bridesmaids. Got married in a little Catholic church up in North Dakota, where Louisa's from. Legally, we're not really married, since the government thinks I'm dead. Louisa just changed her name." He huffs." Said my name was sexier than hers. Anyways, the priest was so old, he agreed to bless our wedding without the permission of the bishop. Or a marriage licence."

That answers my question about Louisa's age then...

Sam smiles at the thought of his brother, standing at the altar, watching as his bride marches radiantly down the aisle.

"So, her family hated you." Sam laughed "Who would've guessed that?"

Dean chuckled at Sam's sarcasm.

"Bitch." "Jerk."

"I wish I'd been there with you." Dean visibly tightens his hold on Robert, who had fallen asleep a while ago, drool pooling on Dean's t-shirt. "I wish you'd been there too, Sammy..."

Louisa steps back in at this point. She ushers Sam and Dean, still holding his sleeping child, into the living room. Louisa snuggles into Dean's side on the relic couch from the 60's. Sam lounges quite comfortably on the green plaid, cotton upholstered recliner nearby.

Not a word was said for the rest of the evening.

Send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged!

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x ofc #dean winchester has kids #french canadian #catholicism #dean winchester has a family #anti-veganism #some swearing

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voliere-rpg-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Hummingbird

Under the cut you will find the example application by the admin for the closed role of Hummingbird. Please take this as a guideline, not as a rule.

Information about the Player

Name: Jey

Age: 23

Pronouns: They/Them

Timezone: GMT+1

Experience: I’ve been roleplaying for over 10 years now, and at least 5 on Tumblr. I enjoy the fact that it’s all on the same dash and putting a lot of thought and effort into your replies is seen as something beautiful, not annoying. I love long replies a lot, but I’m not a fan of the use of gifs, as I feel the roleplay community has started fixating on face claims a lot. It seems as though more and more people give up on building proper story arcs and sticking with groups. I understand that a slow dash can be disheartening, but I also think that the only way to combat that is when everyone pulls their weight. One reply a day should be in. I really don’t mind if people make typos, write in simple sentence-structures or are a bit insecure about cutting posts and all that, as long as they don’t give up on everything right away. My greatest roleplay experiences have been in dedicated groups, groups that wanted to write a story together and allowed themselves so immerse in this second reality, groups that became friends.

How you found this roleplay: I … made it … myself …

Personal quote: “I don’t even like birds…”

Questions: Hello, you, if you are reading this! I hope you have fun applying! I can’t wait reading from you! *-*

Information about the Role

The chosen bird: Hummingbird

Faceclaim: First Choice: Keinyan Lonsdale, with [this] kind of energy. I think he’s got those very bright, very colourful, very energetic vibes I need for Hummy. I originally know him from Dance Academy, where he played a more brooding type, and that too fits well, considering that Hummy can go from smiley happy go-lucky to dangerously manipulating in the blink of an eye. Second Choice: Ryan Jamaal because [look]. [at]. [him]. Precious!

Age: He turned 20 this June.

Pronouns: He/Him

Major: Biology (with a minor in Dance)

Second Character: Hmmm I really want to play Hummy, but if I really can’t have him, I think I’d very much like to go with Cuckoo or Parrot

Themes: Yellow, orange. Lies/Truths and also lies in contrast to story telling as a mean of painting yourself the way you want others to see you. Energy turning into low-energy and vice versa.

The Interview

“Who are you?” one of the girls asked into the darkness. [...] “How do you know we can trust you?”

The voice sounded amused. “You will just have to. And it does not matter who we are. Only who we want to be.”

One by one, the Invited were asked to step forward, a bodiless hand guiding them into the darkness and down into the Archives of the Silver Library, where the records of every student who ever attended Weston University could be found. There, the first interview ensued.

“Do not be intimidated, nothing can happen to you. Not yet. What is your name, my little bird?”

You: “Larson!” Bisi had waited such a long time to finally introduce himself to the Volière that his answer rolled off his tongue almost a little too eagerly. “My name’s Bisi J. Larson, Miss.”

“Are you aware that immense secrecy comes with affiliating yourself with the Volière? You could get in troubles if people knew you were trying to join us. Would you wish to be called by a nickname? Or is your first name fine?“

You: “I’m very aware, yes, but I don’t mind. I mean-,” He paused. “Of course I mind. I’m mindful of it.” A smile. Simple and small, yet genuine in all aspects. “But I understand why the rules are that way, and I respect the importance of … respecting them. I guess Bisi isn’t exactly a name people forget easily, but don’t worry. Most of them think it’s a nickname of some sort, anyway.” The wildest of attempts had been made to find out Bisi’s ‘real name’ in the past, none of them as funny as his responding laugh had made it sound like. But he had gotten used to it, eventually, and in a way it was better letting people make fun of him than letting them forget him. “So I’m fine being addressed like this, too.”

“Tell me about your family.”

You: Modern, clean, impersonal, perfect. So perfect. Way too perfect. Bisi let out a chuckle and shook his head. “Where do I start? There’s so much to say!” He had of course rehearsed his answer and knew exactly which details to speak to conceal, but he gave it a pensive hum anyway, giving himself a more relaxed, spontaneous way. “My fathers were both in Yale, Dada being one of the youngest Yale Daily News Editors in Chief ever, if I remember right.”

Of course he was remembering this right. He had listened to his fathers’ story over and over again. “They met on Dada’s first day there, you know. Paps was the President of the newspaper and not really a fan of Dada joining, considering that he was not only young but also a scholar. Paps doubted that Dada would be able to handle the amount of work required, while simultaneously keeping up with his classes. He even tried to sabotage him more than once, can you believe?” Bisi laughed, just like his fathers always did when they told the story. “But eventually he found himself charmed by Dada and even helped him with his campaign to become Editor in Chief. Isn’t that sweet?” They had lost sight of each other after his Paps had left Yale, meeting again only six years later at a random press conference, employed by rivalling newspapers now. Hitting it off immediately again, this time with more than just amicable feeling involved, they decided to move together, and because this required for at least one of them to quit their job to move across the country, they decided to both give up their jobs and start a whole new newspaper: The Larson Daily News. The internet had started becoming more popular then, and seeing its potential, they decided to make their newspaper an exclusive and mostly anonymous online-accessible portal for the high society of the East Coast. “They’ve been together ever since, building their business with great success. I’m so proud of them, you have no idea. I truly wish to be as lucky as them one day.”

What a perfect story.

If only it was true.

“I don’t know who my mother is, though. I was offered to meet her a few years back, but I never felt … brave enough to follow up. Perhaps after I graduate from college, so she can be proud of me when she meets me. My fathers stand in contact with her, though, and they say she’s doing fine and that she’s already proud of me. Sweet, isn’t it?” Certainly. But it was a lie. The only lie Bisi had ever allowed him to tell. Perhaps because without it, all the other truths would not exist. The truth to this one, big lie was: he had met her. Almost ten years ago now. Secretly. He had met her once and seen that the truth was hardly as perfect as the stories he was made to believe.

He never ever wanted to believe lies ever again.

“So what about your childhood? Tell me about it.”

You: “Sunshine, apple blossoms and cheerful dinners? Is that enough of a description?” he asked, laughing good-heartedly before shaking his head. “No, that’s not true though. I mean, you probably know it for yourself, don’t you, Miss? With parents who work hard comes a lot of time spent alone. Mornings eating breakfast alone, afternoons playing outside all by yourself, nights reading books out loud with no one listening. Yada, yada.” He added a vague hand motion, but his smile remained. “It’s also not easy to be an only child to two gay men - who don’t even look like me - in the middle of Nowhere, Georgia.”

Life wasn’t perfect just because someone told you it was, after all, was it?

Bisi had watched his fathers leave for work for years, returning days later exhausted but with such dazzling stories to tell, and he had known that there had to be more out there than a couple of dusty houses and green wasteland, school mates with paper thin skin and the humor of dead fish. And one day he had found his mother’s address in his Paps’ office.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he had expected. Answers, surely, but the exciting kind. On his way there, the wildest ideas came to his mind. Was she an old college friend, a feminist artist, who had happily agreed to help them fulfill their child wish? Was she a young high society girl who had been forced to give away her child by her strict, conservative parents? Was she a scientist, hiding Bisi’s twin to learn about the differences between nature and nurture? Or was she maybe a crazy fortune teller who had read in her tea cup that she had to grant a child to the next gay couple that passed her shop?

Stories. Nothing but stories he told himself.

Reality was loveless. Sylvia Kempten was no one but a poverty-sunken woman with six children whom the CPS had told that any more children would have to be taken away from her. Refusing to do abort her next pregnancy, though, she asked around and found another way, and barely eleven months and a certain amount of monetary influence later, Jonathan Larson had adopted Bisi. “Not that I wasn’t loved, of course. They did their darn best to spend as much time with me as possible. Now that their business is going really well, they’re at home much more.” He leaned in. “I know I’m a teen and supposed to hate it, but to be honest, it’s nice having them around. They’re really great people, you know.” But they had lied. His mother wasn’t fine, and she wasn’t proud of him. She barely cared about him actually, hardly even heard from him, and she certainly didn’t receive any of the money Bisi’s Paps had promised her. She didn’t fit the perfect narrative, and so she had never been invited.

Liars. Not story-tellers. Liars. “I think that if I had a great childhood, it’s thanks to them. I was taught all I needed to know about life, and that’s what matters in the end.”

“I see.” The voice hummed. “Say, how much do you think all of this influenced you? How much of the events then made you the person you are now?”

You: “Doesn’t every second you live, every action you push yourself to do, every adventure you go and don’t go on influence you?”

He was still a child when he had decided to put an end to all lies. He wanted the perfect life his fathers described, but he wanted it to be true. And so he wrote his first bucket list. It read itself like a recipe to a cliché filled teenage movie, but that was exactly what Bisi wanted; people needed to look at his life and think that he was living it to its fullest and not be lied to. He’d work hard and fast and ceaselessly, would turn charming and sweet when the goal required it, would teach himself how to get everything and anything he wanted with honest ambition. He’d do everything to achieve this.

“I think it humbled me, you know. To … face challenges. And-, and I know that I’m still in the top ten percent of the most fortunate people out there. I don’t think that if my actual birth father had raised me, I would’ve actually made it as far as I’ve made it now. I-, But I also know that if it wasn’t for the bullying and our constant outsider-status, I might’ve grown up taking it all for granted. Instead I am here now, grateful and aware that everything I do in life must be done with my best efforts and no giving up ever.”

“Well, all of this is … interesting. Tell me about the dark things now. Your trauma, your saddest memories, your angriest actions? Has there ever been something you regretted doing? Something you wished you could erase from your record? Oh, and,” a chuckle, “is there something you regret not doing?”

You: That’s a lot of questions at once!” he laughed out, nothing about the way he took his time hinting to the fact that he was thinking about how to reply, trying to figure out how to keep his smile. “So one by one, yes? What did you start with? Dark things? Trauma? Sadness?”

Angriest actions. Everything Bisi had done since that day he had found out about his mother had been based on anger. Or perhaps not anger. But irritation. Like a stone in your shoe which either made you walk faster and kick and twist your foot - or which had you stop walking altogether. They had lied to him. They had lied to him for years, over and over again, making him feel safe and wanted and important, when really he was nothing but a random object to their narrative. A lego piece to make their lies seem more believable. In deciding that Bisi needed to create his own narrative, he had decided to keep walking.

What he had not been preparing himself for however, was what would happen if the irritation would turn against him in case of failure…

“I spent a lot of time in hospitals,” he said, simply. “But dancing helped with that. Davanta Academy isn’t an art school, but it focuses on helping their students to express themselves with art. And before you say anything! I know this sounds terribly like a hippie school, but trust me if I tell you that it’s so much easier to study for exams when you’ve got a proper outlet to let steam off.” Suicide attempts simply stopped fitting into his narrative, after all. “They’re actually quite smart there. I mean, look where it got me. The first to ever receive a scholarship for dance, am I not?” He did a little arabesque, smiling brightly at the end of it. “Really. I don’t think the dark parts matter much. Yes, my fathers were gone a lot, and yes I got bullied as a kid, but like, doesn’t that somewhat go for everyone? Don’t we all sometimes feel like our parents aren’t there enough for us, like we aren’t really appreciated by others?” Like you’re a failure and a lie, a failure and a lie, a failure and a lie. “What matters is how you deal with it, is it not?”

“Hm, this is going to be fun, I can sense it. I wonder, had you heard of The Volière before?”

You: This had Bisi pause. What would be fun? Had she sensed something? Or did she mean something else? Did she like his dancing? Was this something good? But then the next question came, and he forced himself to concentrate. “I had. Only in rumors, of course, but it left me very curious. I think it wouldn’t be a lie if I said that out of the three school that offered me a scholar ship, I might’ve partially chosen Whitebridge because of the Volière, even.” He stopped, very purposefully so but making it look as though taken aback by his own words. “Oh gosh, I hope this won’t make me look needy and clingy and like I’m trying too hard. I mean I am, but how can I keep up with that now? An apple for the Miss next time, perhaps.”

“What benefits do you think would you draw from being in such a secret society? I mean, we do not just live for the ‘food, fun and fuckery’, we do serve a purpose. With our connections, we can help you do things you only ever dreamt doing, and once you’ve done them, we can protect you so no one will ever know. Unless you want to be known, in which case, we can make you famous. Would you like that? We can make you rich. We can help you get any life you dream of, no doors are closed if you’ve made it into the Volière. Hm? Doesn’t that sound tempting?”

You: Bisi listened to those explanations carefully, his body still, his face calm, but his heart beating more and more rapidly with each word. Yes. Yes, this was exactly what he wanted. Opportunities and people who were as willing as he was to go far. As far as possible. Maybe even a little too far. They’d be more than just audience, more than just witnesses, they’d be characters in his story, contributing, helping, driving the plot forward. It was exactly what he wanted, and so much more. Failing, would be so much harder with the Volière.

“I think the question you want to ask is “Doesn’t it sound tempting to have me’?”

“Many people are willing to go very far to make it into our beautiful, golden, little cage, you know. Others are too afraid to even engage, they would’ve never come here in the first place. After all, now that we have seen your face, there is no way out. There is no quitting now, no going back, not until we decide that you hold no value to us after all. But you are here, so I suppose there must be a reason. Tell me, is this reason strong enough for you to play by our rules, no matter what?

You: Finally, Bisi’s smile fell. It was still there, somewhere, like the warmth of a hearth even after you turned the flame down, but his lips showed no signs of it anymore. “I-,” He averted his gaze, frowned, took a breath. Nodded. “It is. I know all this, I know the risks, I know the benefits, and I know that I’ve got what it takes.” A pause. “I’d tell you to trust me, but I guess you’ll make sure to see for yourself.”

“Are you scared?”

You: Slowly, Bisi’s smile returned. Truths rolled off tongues so much easier than lies, didn’t they? “I think I’ve never been any less scared.”

There was a long moment of silence after this. Then, finally, a gust of air, and the voice returns. “You will hear from us. And remember, from now on, no matter what you do, we will hear from you, too.”

#university rpg #lsrpg #college rpg #secret society rpg #example #hummingbird

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alegendarystudentwonderland-blog · 7 years ago

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Sr-22′s in southern California?

"Sr-22's in southern California?

I just want to know what carrying one in the state of California does for me. My license was suspended in Chicago for parking tickets, and before I can get it back, I must rectify this. But before I have the 5 grand to do so, my mother mentioned looking into an SR22, citing something about being able to recieve limited driving priviledges. The DMV is closed, and this is bugging me, so I thought I'd ask you guys. I appreciate any help that anyone has to offer.

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare quotes: : http://salecarinsurance.xyz/index.html?src=tumblr

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haha if that makes any sense. my friend was telling me about how her friend is insured as a person...so she can drive say her moms car, her friends car, and her boyfriends car. she doesn't have a car of her own so she got insurance to drive other peoples cars? can you do that? if so, what company offers that sort of coverage? thanks""

Cheap motorcycle insurance for 18 year old?

Im 18 an looking to get a street bike this year but the insurance company my parents have(some local small insurance company) saids they cant even give insurance until ive had lisense for 5 years which is bullshit. Even after 5 years they said it would most likely be around 4 thousand a year which is rediculous! All i want to do is own a motorcycle an ride but damn insurance is too high! Any cheap insurance that gives full coverage to 18 year olds. Btw my driving record is clean with no accidents or tickets

AAA insurance question.?

I signed up for insurance for a home when I bought it 7 years ago. I told them I wanted full replacement which is what you have to have in order to get a mortgage. 7 years ago when I went down there to sign papers I specifically told him that I wanted to make sure everything was at full replacement value and my husband wanted to make sure the roof had full replacement value. I told the insurance guy that he is a roofer so that was a main thing he wanted me to make sure we had. The insurance guy laughed and made a little joke about it. So now, 7 years later we had hail damage and guess what.. my house does have full replacement value and all our property inside has full replacement value everything but the roof. Hmmm..imagine that. So I am sure I signed papers without reading the contract, I just took his word for it. Is there anything I can do? I am going to report this to the local new station. The insurance guy out right lied to me. This is in oklahoma. Is there a district office in oklahoma? I googled it and couldn't find anything. Any help would be appreciated. Thanks.""

Cheap goods in transit van insurance?

anyone know of any budget goods in transit insurance?

How much is Student Insurance?

Hey guys, just wanted to know that how much is student insurance on a 1999, 2000 and 2001 car? You see im thinking of buying one but i hear that insurance is a whopper so just thought i would be careful and ask. Thanks.""

How to find how much my car is worth for insurance purposes?

I was involved in a car crash, legally not my fault - but is still going to come off my insurance. The car is written off and I'd like to know what to expect the insurance company to offer me - and perhaps argue that the car is worth more if I can. Car was a Seat Ibiza 1.4S, Reg no. Y828 TGC. About 128,000 on the clock. In good working order. Five previous owners, part history for three of them. No visible rust. Small dent rear bumper. M.O.T. good for another 4 months. Have already tried a few online valuations, they vary so much I'm not sure they're much good to me.""

Insurance company wants to total my car/not insure it.?

So my dad rear ended someone really softly, but it was a truck that he rear ended with a hitch or something that damaged the grill and the bumper. Problem is, I put a total of $2700 to have transmission replaced and the engine repaired after the timing belt broke and caused damage over the last 2-3 months. It is a 2004 dodge neon and the body to these things are flimsy to begin with. I'm taking it in Monday to get it looked at better, but they said from what they could see it might be a total loss. Which means its only gonna be worth $2000. they said they have to replace the hood, the grill, and the bumper and other stuff which is **** because I know people who could fix these problems for less than $500. they aren't even visibly bad, a few dents in the places i mentioned but when i took it in they reacted like i had been in a head on collision going 50 mph. It runs perfectly, we wouldn't have even reported it except we were worried the guy might claim injury after the fact (which he did). What can I do? This is my only car, and I am already in debt from student loans. $2000 isn't gonna buy me a new car. How can I convince them not to total it when I take it in?""

Whats happens if I don't get car insurance?

I have a speeding ticket on my license, I'm about to go to court for another speeding ticket (19 over) and a reckless driving ticket (for burning tires). I am 18, with a Nissan 300zx (2 seater sports car) My insurance is currently $120 a month for liability (I think) , and will probably go WAY up I was thinking, what if I don't renew my insurance? Will I just get a $200 ticket when I get pulled over for it? $200 ticket >>> $300 a month for insurance More knowledge the better, cuz the 2 tickets I just got are gonna cost me out the ***, and insurance is ridiculous anyways, I have 0 wrecks, I'm considered high risk with tickets even though its just speeding and burning tires. Speeding on old highways with nobody on them, the worst thing I have to worry about is deer. Burning tires in secluded areas on roads nobody drives on really.""

How much would be my insurance If my car is being registered in my name?

I am 21 years of age and I am planning to buy a used car to like 1998-2000 models which are not reasons for me to pay a lot for my insurance.

Need health insurance. Can anyone help?

I'm 21 and I don't have insurance. I can't get it from my job becuz i work part time and I make to much money to get it (12/hr). What should I do?

Speeding ticket in california?

i got my first speeding ticket i was going 55 on a 45 how much would that cost me? and also it wasnt my car it was my parents car but i dont live with them so will there insurance go up???

How much would the insurance cost on a 2002 Lamborghini Murcielago VT ?

full coverage

Car Insurance Help!? Will my rates go up?

Today when I got outta school, I was about to drive home and i found a huge dent on the passenger side door. So it was a hit and run I guess. Nobody left any note or anything. I drove the car home and called the cops to get a police report. the cop gave me a card with her name and the case number, but she said that if i file a claim with insurance, the company will either drop me or increase my rates. I'm a 17 year old boy and i live in maryland and im insured under geico. will my rates go up? Thanks""

How many independent insurance agents are there in the US?

I am trying to find out how many independent insurance agents there are in the United States. Any data, links or information would be great.""

Can someone explain the difference between Health Insurance and any other Insurance?

I don't understand why people act like health insurance is so radically differently than other insurance. Is it? Insurance is a form of risk management to hedge against loss. Auto, Life, Homeowners, Unemployment and Health are among the types of insurance you can buy. I'm generally not required to buy any of those insurances. If I have the title to my home, I'm not required to have homeowners insurance. If I don't drive a car, I'm not required to carry auto insurance. Why should I be forced to buy health insurance? If I want to take that or any gamble by not buying insurance, isn't that my choice? I will admit that by not purchasing health insurance, I could be putting a burden on others if I was admitted to the ER and couldn't pay, that burden of payment would fall on others. HOWEVER, that burden would be there whether I was forced to carry insurance or not. If I don't make enough money to buy this mandatory insurance, then the gov't will give me tax credits to purchase insurance. Who's paying for those tax credits? All of the tax payers. So either we pay the providers/insurance companies via higher premiums to cover loss, or we pay the gov't via taxes. Forcing (perhaps unconstitutionally) citizens to purchase health insurance won't solve anything, it will just move where the cost is incurred. But please, explain why people are treating health insurance so differently.""

Sr-22's in southern California?

Motorcycle insurance?

Hey everyone just looking for some good places to go for my motorcycle insurance. I live in california L.A, county more east. Anyways im 27 no tickets anything for the last couple of years. i know you cant tell me a price but i was looking for places that have good deals and customer services. im just looking for liability. 2007 kawaski zzr. thanks guys.""

Homework / car insurance question?

I have to do a budget for the next 5 years of my life and im lost on how to get the car insurance part figured out. I have to figure out hom much i would be paying for car insurance if i was to buy a car in the future? can someone please help, i'm so lost. and plz dont just give me a website to go to, plz explain it a little. thanks""

Auto Insurance Is Prohibitively Expensive. What To Do?

I'm 23 years old. I rent a flat and have held a steady management job for 4 years. I don't drink or smoke. I am looking to purchase a 1993 Nissan Altima and I was looking for insurance. I was blown away when I got the quotes. Mind you, I live in Detroit and I understand that insurance is expensive, but this is ridiculous. Every quote I got was for at least $400 a month, liability only. Esurance was the most expensive at $582 a month. Allstate was the lowest at $396 a month. Any advice? I really need this car, but there is no way I can afford those insane rates.""

Any car insurance agents out there? Or at least somebody who knows a lot about car insurance?

I will be driving on my sixteenth birthday if I can get a job, because I will be responsible for paying ALL of my insurance. How much am I going to have to pay? I drive a 1989 Chevrolet Silverado. Plus I heard good grades have something to do with it (sometimes), I have an A average. Help!""

""Cheap insurance cars, help me choose.?

I'm looking for a 2002 car and I'm thinking of: Ford fiesta 1.1 Vauxhall corsa 1.2 Toyota yaris 1.0 Nissan Micra 1.0 I would welcome other options and choices And your opinion will count! I want to get a cheap insurance and I can afford up to 2.300

Auto Insurance?

Can a person have auto insurance in one state but live in another?

What's the best and cheapest Insurance Company for Motorcycles?

I want to buy a 2007 Honda CBR1000RR. I live in Georgia. I was quoting online and the prices are insane!!! I could buy a Range Rover with those monthly payments!!!

Home owner's discount on auto insurance?

how does my auto insurance company know if I own my home? do they just take my word for it?

""Would this health insurance be accepted in my ares ,lubbock and shallowater texas?""

i need to know if this health insurance would be accepted in my area,lubbock and shallowater texas?""

Insurance cost/ car cost?

ok i live in canada, and i am saveing up for my first car, what is the cheapest car i can get, cheap but still a good car, a standared car not a stick. and how much insurance will i have to pay for this car. no i only got pulled over once but that was 2 years ago, will that take an effect for my insurance .........""

What company has the lowest auto insurance rates?

My insurance rates just went up $100 a month because of speeding tickets I got last year. I took an improvement class right after I got the ticket and am also getting ready to turn 25. I was hoping my rates would go down and nit up to $250 a month. Anyone know any companies?

Do illegal immigrants get health insurance?

What insurance and how?

2nd car insurance by Geico?

Hi, I have a 2005 Toyota corolla and have comprehensive collision damage waiver from Geico (My policy covers collision damage waiver for my rental cars,too). I'm planning to buy a new car this week. Can I drive that vehicle off the lot without adding the VIN# to my insurance? How much time I have before adding them to my insurance? I live in California.""

Renting a car and insurance in US ?

is insurance for renting a car optional or essential ! ?

""Car insurance cancelled,what to do?""

I've had car insurance for around 5 months and because i was late on 2 payments they have cancelled my insurance today. i'e looked for an alternative insurance but because i had it cancelled nobody will take me on. is there any other options,surely somebody being late doesnt mean they cant ever get to drive again??""

Could anyone tell me if there are dui/dwi exclusions in states that have no-fault auto insurance?

What is the cheapest Michigan Motorcycle Insurance?

I've been searching around and am unsure of which company is actually cheapest. What is average, and what is the cheapest for a 26 year old?""

Car insurance keeps going up despite excellent driving record?

I have had car insurance through shelter for going on 4 years.ive had no traffic tickets at all no accidents nothing ! But yet my monthly amount keeps changing.It has went from around $92 then I added a my car alarm system got a discount it went to $72 for a few months.then to $82. For the past 4 months now I got a letter saying my next payment due is $107 . That $20 dollar increase.??? I'm getting very fed up with shelter I'm a new mom and it's hard enough to pay my bills as it is I recently got married does that change ur car insurance ? He has no license because of something that happened around 10 years ago . When i report I'm married is it going to help or hurt me? I do not have any intentions of adding him to my policy but just was wondering if I will get a discount from being (married) now? I know most company's give discounts because they seem to think married ppl drive more safely.

Cheap car insurance for 7 star driver?

Where's a good place to go if have cavaties and no dental insurance at the moment?

i'm taking a semester off (enrolled in college but not currently attending) and i just graduated h.s. and my dental insurance cut off my moms plan. They discovered 2 cavities and they i'd like to get them taken care of before i go away to college is there anywhere i could go for cheaper or that would accet paymnet plans at a semi-affordable price?

What is the cheapest car insurance for young drivers?

So far the cheapest i can find is with aviva but it is still pushing the 2000 mark which is really expensive!!! Any help appreciated thank you :)

Is it illegal to not have insurance on a car you don't drive?

It's tagged and everything, just don't see the point in paying for car insurance if it isn't getting driven.""

How much does Homeowners Insurance cost?

Whats a good estimate for how much my homeowners insurance would be if I'm a first time buyer, my home is around 300,000. and I have good credit, plus the home is in a brand new developement. I just want an estimate. Thanks.""

How much commission can I make selling car and homeowners insurance?

What is the initial cost and monthly cost would it be for an auto and home insurance policy?

The vehicle is a 2006 Ford Explorer XL and the square footage of the home is 22,548""

Sr-22's in southern California?

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/buying-insurance-where-i-go-college-ok-cleofa-escobedo"

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