#the main physical differences are his eyes and his wardrobe colour

[thxta]

[liveindaydreamswithhim]

Just like 1940*

A blurb in which Harry comes back from filming Dunkirk only to find that his girlfriend thinks he's a soldier coming back from war and wants to reward him.

Warning: This is pure smut. Main kinks: role-playing and even some choking and bondage.

I had this idea back in 2017 when Dunkirk had come out. However, I did not write then so now that videos of Harry training for Dunkirk has resurfaced, it has come back to me again. I will not let this opportunity go this time.

Word count: 5.6K

Harry sighed and rolled his shoulders in order to get rid of the soreness that lingered after his long day at the set. His hours at work – quite different than the work he had been already used to – consisted mostly of hard training. That is how it was nowadays being part of a film and a war film nonetheless, so he and all the cast members had to always stay in their best shape and having to withgo heavy hours of training. From weightlifting and boxing to exercising in the wet sand while they were left to the brutality of the cold wind in addition to the sea that chilled him down to his bones and made the minutes feel like hours. Moreover, they had diving lessons in wet suits that barely even sheltered him from the freezing waters as well as wardrobe training to learn how to swim while wearing the heavy army boots and all the uniform equipment.

Harry searched his back pockets for his hotel room keys and even let a small groan as he reached towards the hole only for the joints of his elbow to crack in protest. Even though this day was not a training day, but rather a filming day, it had hardly given him any comfort for it still requested high physical skills and willpower and he could also feel the consequences of yesterday’s gym training. His thighs had been the ultimate victim as he dragged them around today, the muscles harder and more prominent from the excessive use, along with his torso that suffered the results of continuous core exercises, which also restricted him from laughing too much on set today since every deep breath was like a small pang to the stomach.

The boy felt his uniform stick to his skin with sweat and the smell of saltiness clung to him after being exposed to the sea air for a long period of time. He made a mental check to wash it tomorrow. That was the only problem of taking your work clothes with you – even if it saved you time in the morning for getting ready on set, you had to wash it yourself and that was not something the other actors warned him about when they advised him of it.

As Harry entered his room, the smell of vanilla and jasmine invaded his nose and he remembered to step lighter on his army boots and close the door with a soft thud as to not disturb the other person that was probably in his room so late at night. What gave him a bit of peace – and mostly his body – was the fact that he had tomorrow off to rest and more importantly to spend some time with his girl. Y/N was visiting him after being away from each other for the last three months and she had been very excited the first day he had taken her to the set and her eyes turned twice their normal size as they stared at every piece of the setting as well as behind it with all of the crew members. Y/N had been giddy when she met his co-workers who she charmed with her smiles and blushes (and also the fact that she was cutely wrapped up in bundles of clothes as to not catch a cold that only her face was visible, the skin of her cheeks and nose tinted red from the brutal winds as few strands of hair tickled her face that she couldn’t really push away since her hands were restricted by her thick gloves) and Harry had felt so proud to call her his as he showed her around with his arm over her shoulder as she leaned into him for some extra heat.

Y/N had looked especially proud when she was witnessing him act with her hands clasped close to her chest as she had stared in awe at the way her boyfriend looked. It gave him that extra boost of confidence as he noticed the way her eyes trailed from his short hair to his stained face to shamelessly gawk at the way his green uniform clung to his body especially when water was soaking it, leaving the skin underneath a bit more visible. Y/N would bite her lower lip but would not say anything until he finished filming for the day and then she would drag him immediately to their room, her hands never leaving his body until he was burning up from her touch, melting from her close proximity as she made him moan and call out her name in the darkness of the room over and over again while trembling under her warm body.

His blood rushed as he even thought of the day when he was being pulled inside a forgotten closet by his lover who, without wasting any time, attached her lips to the sensitive skin of his neck and collarbones pushing the fabric off his shoulder to give Y/N more space to invade. Harry had become dizzy at her assault but it had only lasted a few seconds, long enough to guide his hand down the front of her legging, where he realised how drenched and needy she was for him, but before he could curl his fingers in the way that had her begging, Y/N pulled his hand away with a deep sigh like it hurt her to do so, kissed his pink coloured lips for a second and then push him back out of the room before anyone could notice his absence.

Y/N, left in the closet with her own thoughts, had giggled at the stunned expression on Harry’s face and how she had picked her own battle carefully in order to await retaliation from him. And it really was more than she could handle. Harry had had on his scary calm face, the one that made her eyes widen in innocence because perhaps she had bit more than she could chew. After having her hands restrained to the bed frame, unable to move, Harry had granted her what she wanted, but with a twist. That night Y/N got his ring clad fingers time after time until she was sore and raw and made a wet mess of the bed, until she was begging for Harry to stop as he stared at her with a smirk on his clean shaved face, fake sympathy written all over it.

“But we have only just began,” was all that he had said and pulled her until she stranded his lap, a tight hold on her trembling thighs while her hands had fought her restrains.

Almost painfully slow, he slid inside of her, with absolutely no resistance as her mouth choked a small whine. As he had fucked her raw against the bedframe, his lips and teeth leaving marks on any part of soft skin he could reach, Y/N had thought to herself that maybe she had won the battle, but she had definitely lost the war. However, she was not giving up until she finally got what she wanted.

Walking now further into the room, Harry heard a soft humming and was surprised to see that Y/N was still awake and had lit a few jasmine scented candles that gave the whole room a golden feeling.

“Y/N?” he called out carefully.

Harry heard an elongated gasp and soft feet padding quickly to where he was.

“You are finally home!” she exclaimed coming into view and throwing her arms around his broad shoulders squeezing tightly as her feet left the floor.

Although confused at her affection he hugged her back because in the end, he had actually missed her on the set today. With his arms around her waist, he buried his head in the crook of her neck taking in the sweet smell of vanilla that always followed her. After a few moments, Y/N pulled back and smiled brightly at him and only then did he notice her attire. She was wearing a baby blue button-down dress that reached her knees. It had a sweetheart neckline and was tight around her chest and waist before it flowed out with enough fabric to hide her bare feet from view. The dress looked from a different era entirely and Harry was certain that she had bought it from a second-hand vintage shop. However, what caught his attention was the fact that the fabric was so thin that he could actually see her nipples protruding, hard from the chilly air of the room or even her lustful stare at him, because while he was staring her down, Y/N was also doing the same, with her lip caught in her teeth as she saw the camouflage apparel he had on, a few of his jacket’s buttons undone to see the green shirt underneath. A thick black belt kept his army trousers carefully in place and she never hated anything that much before.

“I can’t believe that you are back to me!” Y/N said eagerly, the tone in her voice cheery mixed with surprise.

“What–“ Harry was beyond confused looking at his girlfriend in front of him.

“You have been away from me for so long, I thought I would never see you again,” she cried out and he was so bewildered that he let her lead him to the bedroom and pushing him gently on a chair.

She went down on her knees in front of him and started unlacing his boots. The frown on Harry’s face was still prominent as he thought “what the fuck”.

“Baby, are you okay?” he asked softly and reached over to her forehead, thinking that maybe she had gone out without her protections against the cold and had caught a fever.

Y/N simply gave him her sweetest smile that melted his heart and replied; “I am more than okay now that I have you here again my love,”

“I don’t understa-“

“I am so happy that you have come back home to me from the terrors of the world, my brave, brave soldier,” Y/N looked up at him with adoration in her eyes as well as plenty of mischief as she finally stood up, her fingers reaching towards the stray curls that had fallen in his eyes.

“Soldier?” was all that Harry could say dumbly and he seriously felt that he was missing something, but it wasn’t likely that Y/N would simply reveal it and he was all alone trying to understand.

“Yes, soldier. For have you not been fighting restlessly against our country’s enemy while I am sat here at home praying for your well-being, hoping that you will return to me?” she asked pursuing her lips like he was the mad one here.

This time Harry stayed silent trying to understand and looked in her eyes, filled with challenge as she cocked her eyebrow at him, running her hands down her skirt and raising it just enough to reveal the creamy skin of her thighs as placed each of them in either side of his until she was stranding him, and his hands ended up automatically on the small of her back as Y/N stared down at Harry with a theatrical sigh.

“Oh, how I missed you,” she dropped her head to his neck and puckered her lips to litter soft kisses around the are that slowly turned more opened mouthed as she reach the underside of his jaw, while her thighs squeezed his, trapping him under her.

Oh.

He saw it now.

His palms ran down to her ass and he pushed Y/N with force until her chest was against his, feeling her gasp and breathe heavily through the thin fabric of her dress. A wild sensation came over him as he realised the game that his girl wanted to play and fuck, would he grant her anything she asked for, so with a deep breath, he ran his hands all over her like he didn’t know where to begin touching her, in the desperate manner that he usually possessed after not seeing her for months on end.

Y/N released a small moan as Harry’s hands finally reached her hair and gathered it in one handful, pulling it lightly so that her throat and cleavage was exposed to him. She closed her eyes at the sensation of his lips on her skin that was starting to be set on fire, especially as his tongue poked through to savour the taste of her. His other hand rested on her hip that had already started grinding on him.

Harry growled and the sound travelled deep inside her all the way through her veins and his presence was heavy all around her. She almost couldn’t believe that she had convinced him to roleplay with her, a fantasy born since the first time she had seen him in that army uniform. During the last few second with his lips carving bright red marks on her skin and then licking over them, Y/N had become very desperate and that was not part of her acting.

“I missed you too,” Harry replied almost in agony, for if she wanted him to play desperate, he would gladly do so.

Y/N, now that she was not the one teasing, pulled against Harry’s hold on her hair and clasped his face in her palms and leaned in until she found his mouth. She hummed in appreciation as she tasted his lips that were just as hungry as hers.  One taste and that was enough for Harry to want to rip every single item of clothing that she was wearing, but he managed to restrain himself because he knew that destroying that dress would displease her very much. Instead, he opted for carelessly undoing the buttons in the front and slowly every sliver of her bare skin was revealed to him. He knew that she was not wearing a bra but he was surprised to see that she had no other barrier between them after the dress was only hanging from her shoulders. Harry broke from the kiss and stared shamelessly at her exposed body on top of him as Y/N slowly stood up and let the dress become a pool of blue at the bottom of their feet.

She looked at him bashfully and once again went down on her knees for him. She was still almost close to eye level with him as she ran her hands along his hard chest and undid the buttons of his jacket, which Harry quickly discarded it somewhere in the room. Y/N stared at the light green vest that he wore and how it made his arm muscles protrude in the most delicious way as the shapes of his tattoos appeared even darker under candlelight. She decided to keep it on for now.

Next target was the big belt around his waist that she wasted no time unbuckling and pulling it down along his trousers. She stretched out to give one last kiss to his lips before settling further down on her knees, lifting his vest to reveal the valley of his stomach and the muscles defining it. Y/N marked her way south switching between feather soft kisses and hungry bites of skin while her eyes stayed entirely on his face that looked at her expectantly.

“Let me reward you for what you do for all of us,” Y/N said in a small but steady voice. Her hands ran up his firm thighs and over the prominent bulge that had formed in his black underwear. At first contact, Harry released a hiss and immediately closed his eyes.

“Please,” he exhaled.

Kissing the inside of his thighs, Y/N pulled down his boxers and freed him. Her hands were on his cock, feeling how hard he was in anticipation to her moves. The skin was silky as she gave it a testing pump. Harry’s head fell backward at the feeling and Y/N, very satisfied with his reaction, spit on the head and spread the wetness with her thumb so that her hand could slid easier over him.

“Fuck, such dirty actions from such an innocent young woman,” Harry rasped, his voice laced with lust as he looked down at her.

Y/N said nothing, but in retaliation she bit the inside of his thigh before moving up his spread legs to put him in her mouth. She hollowed her cheeks as she twirled her tongue around him, capturing the pre-cum and tasting him while giving an appreciative hum. She lowered herself on him until he hit the back of her throat while her hand slid up his thigh to connect with his balls, massaging lightly and coaxing a deep moan from Harry who felt his pleasure build at the bottom of his stomach. Y/N released him with a pop and breathed in some well-needed oxygen before wrapping her mouth back around his dick, bobbing her head in a slow tempo. She felt her eyes fill with tears at the big size of him and the fact that Harry without knowing was slowly lifting his hips to meet her every thrust making her choke around him. Harry realising her efforts to breathe stopped his movement and pulled out of her warm mouth even though he wanted to stay buried in her for hours.

However, Y/N did not mind it at all, especially if Harry continued to reward her with the deep throaty moans he released. Eager to put him back in her mouth she went to lunge forward but was stopped when Harry’s hand in her hair pulled her backwards making her let out a pathetic whimper. She looked up at him begging with her doe like eyes to use her throat as he pleased, but she stopped trying to reach him when he gave her a warning glare, which stilled her in place. Instead, Harry tapped her cheek and she dropped her mouth open and poked her tongue out. The look in his eyes was that he was trying to be careful with her and she almost scowled at it. If she had wanted careful, she would not have orchestrated all of this plot. So, when Harry placed his thumb on her awaiting tongue, she immediately closed her lips around it and sucked on it harshly.

Harry was displeased and quickly pulled his hand back leaving her pleading again. He clicked his tongue and tapped her cheek again and this time he gave a warning pull to her hair for her to obey his orders – a small reminder of who was really in charge and he felt a satisfied thrum at the fact that she obeyed him so easily. When Y/N’s tongue came into view again, Harry ran his cock over the outline of her plush lips and she summoned all the willpower she could master to stay put while her eyes silently begged him to do something. Finally, Harry placed the head of his cock on her tongue and he moaned when he saw that Y/N eyes flattered at the action.

“Such a needy lady,” he mused.

“Please,” she begged him.

“What is it baby,” he cooed and urged her to speak but he had already sank his cock deeper in her mouth feeling out the shape of it, watching in fascination the bulge forming in her cheeks. But he knew what she was pleading for, he knew her well enough to understand her looks and her moods and her stares and he knew from the endless hunger rooted in her eyes that she did not want soft, she wanted to please him.

Again he granted her wish to be desperate and without warning he slid deeper until he felt her nose graze his stomach and held her in that position for a moment – only long enough so that he could wrap a hand around her neck and feel himself fill her up to her limit. Harry pulled back and kept her in that position as he fucked her mouth slow but firmly and he almost felt himself combust from the way that Y/N’s eyes focused on him the entire time.

Y/N felt warm all over and she could feel more wetness pooling between her thighs as she got drunk at the view of him over her using her mouth to get lost in his pleasure. After another pause for her to breathe, Harry without hesitation, placed his hands under her thighs and lifted her like she weighed nothing carrying her to the bed and he really thanked his training for it. Although the muscles all over his body hurt, he managed to push the pain to the back of his head, his mind too preoccupied with the vixen wrapped around him. He laid her on the bed, but she did not stay where he left her. Y/N got up, pushing Harry’s shoulders so that he was the one falling on the bed and she crawled to him. In two quick moves he discarded the vest leaving them both completely naked under the candlelight.

“I thought about you every day, even more at night, and even more when I was alone,” Y/N continued her little game.

Harry raised his brows, because he understood the meaning behind her words and imagined her all day in their bed waiting for him while he was on set, with her greedy hands between her thighs and thinking about him. This hunger she was feeling was only a result of her being left alone in her very dirty thoughts that no amount of cold showers would cool her down and her own fingers couldn’t bring the pleasure he could.

“You have been such a good girl for me, welcoming me back home –“ he urged her to him and deliberately placing her on top of him with one leg between her thighs. She was so focused on the praise given to her that she did not notice that his thigh was right under where she needed him the most. “But how about you? Let me greet you properly.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as she soon realised their position.

“Come on baby, use me,” was all he said as he stretched his arms out to prove that he would not interfere with whatever she wanted to do.

However, the position Harry had placed her in could only amount to one thing, something that she wanted to try long ago, but had been too shy to even mention it. Y/N’s cheeks heated up as she noticed his thigh muscles tensing up giving her a better area. She bit her lip and thrusted her hips forward at an angle that his skin grazed her clit, most of her wetness coming off on him.

Harry looked more than satisfied as he heard her first moan of appreciation that was followed by many more as she used his thigh to receive pleasure. Soon Y/N got lost at the warm feeling that travelled through her veins as goosebumps scattered over her skin, she threw her head back and felt her wetness slide down Harry’s thigh and on the duvet under them, but she did not seem to care about anything apart from what his warm skin was doing to her. She jolted me she felt his hands land on her chest, firm as the fingers ran over her nipple making her shudder a bit. Y/N opened her eyes to see that Harry was already watching her, his lip between his teeth and the deep green of his eyes almost non-existent. Like he was not able to control himself he reached forwards and attached his big hands on her hips and made her movements harsher to the point where Y/N almost collapsed on him from the pleasure and gasped as she leaned in to capture Harry’s lips midway, letting his tongue enter her mouth and taste her own as she clenched her thighs.

“I am going to cum,” she warned and braced herself for the rows of pleasure that would most definitely take her breath away.

However, Harry had other plans, as he lifted her off him and smirked when he heard her whimper and tremble at the incompletion. He laid her on the bed and this time she had no energy to object. He took her right leg in his hand and placed it over his shoulder and turned his head so that he could kiss her calf. When she squirmed until one warning slap was given to the inside of her thigh, so close to her soaked centre, she stayed still.

Harry’s left fingers dragged down his left thigh and over the tiger tattoo, the place where Y/N had used him and collected the wetness she had left behind. She moaned so loud when she saw that he had popped his fingers in his mouth and sucked them dry. Then he grabbed his throbbing cock in his hand, sliding it a couple times over her folds and slowly he eased himself in her wet tight hole.

Both of them exhaled in relief at the feeling of becoming one as Harry leaned in to kiss her opened mouth.

“Harry, please,” Y/N cried out although she didn’t know what she was begging for. But Harry nevertheless seemed to give it to her.

With a hard thrust that left them both in scrambles, he picked up the rhythm, hitting that one spot inside her that had his name bouncing off her lips. Y/N arched her back as Harry’s mouth attached to her nipple, his teeth softly grazing them. The deep moans that she released were like they had awoken something feral inside him, as he straitened his back grabbing the leg on his shoulder with both hands, fingers digging into the plush skin of her thigh and she almost felt a pang when she realised that he was not wearing any rings. That did not last long, for Harry started pounding into her with a force so brutal that had her moaning under him, her body acting without her command as her other leg hit the mattress in order to buck her hips.

Harry tatted amused before he took both her legs and placed them over his hips while he was still on his knees and Y/N lifted her gaze to see the fern tattoos poking between her thighs. When he took the first thrust in that position, the angle it gave multiplied their pleasure by far and she was in awe at the deep throaty moan that he released. Harry’s hands gripped her hips so hard that she knew that in the morning she would find bruises in the shape of his fingers.

Harry felt like his hands couldn’t get enough of her and they flattered every time they stayed in one part of her body for too long. He couldn’t stop the feeling of wanting to explore her whole body in just one night. Complying to his wish, Harry ran his hands up to her sides, her breasts until they reached her open neck, begging for a hand around it. With his left hand around the delicate skin of her throat and his right hand playing with her nipple, he stared at the girl underneath him with awe in his eyes. His stare scanned her pleasure-ridden face, they way her own eyes were screwed shut, brows furrowing, but her hands blindly searched for him, wanting to be in contact with him as one of them dug in the skin of his shoulder while the other gripped the wrist around her neck and pushing it further.

“Open your eyes for me baby, let me see those eyes that I missed,” Harry commanded desperate to catch her gaze.

Her hairline had gathered bids of sweat and she whined at his words, but in the end, although with difficulty, Y/N managed to open her eyes meeting his intense stare. Her mouth let airy moans free every time that his hips rolled forwards to meet her own.

“You feel so fucking amazing love,” he moaned in the space between them and raised her body so that she was stranding his lap. Y/N cried out at the prospect of being separated from him even for a second, but Harry managed to remain inside her, his pride swelling at the reaction of his lover.

“You love it when I am this deep in you,” he continued and Y/N felt like she had lost the ability to talk.

“It’s okay sweetheart because you know I love it too,” Harry soothed her back as she set a rhythm riding him.

“I can always feel you so deep Harry, so deep, all the way to my tummy,” she managed to croak out and dragged his hand to the place she felt him the most. Harry groaned at her filthy words, barely holding it together as he buried his face in her neck, biting where her pulse beat like a hummingbird.

“It doesn’t matter how much time has passed since I last fucked you, I can always remember how you feel, baby,” his voice was like velvet in her ears and she found herself going fasted at his words.

“I can always feel you for days when you are like this,” Y/N whispered in his ear, a few curls tickling her face.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Harry bragged and she swore that she could almost hear the smirk on his lips they way she heard the wet noises their skin made when it collided as it bounced off the walls along with the groans he released because of her. For a few moments she focused solely on that and how dirty and raw and passionate it felt, and it was enough to drive her out of her mind.

“Harry,” Y/N warned the pressure in her lower stomach like a knot begging for release.

“I know,” he replied, letting his hand down to where they were connected and rubbed small circles on the small bundle of nerves.

Her thrusts were becoming sloppy and it took all of Harry’s concentration or at least what was left of it since he could feel her clenching around him, to keep them up. He latched his mouth on her nipple, the other hand around her waist to guide himself harder into her as she finally found her high with a gasp, almost like she couldn’t believe the power of it. After a few seconds, she was trembling in his arms and tried to shut her legs further to get Harry’s hand of her overstimulated part. Harry ignored her and continued stroking her, prying those thighs apart as he watched himself get lost into her. Y/N cried out and off her tongue rolled Harry’s name time and time again.

So close to his own high, Harry got lost in her moans and became more aware of her presence on him. The way her hands pulled on the strands of his hair hard like they were the anchor that kept her from falling to pieces and the way her shallow breaths hit his face as she calmed down from her orgasm while also being aware of him pounding into her still, the way she clenched her legs around him and she opened her eyes again, begging could be seen in them but this time it was not for her own finish but for his. Harry felt overwhelmed from all the senses and was so close it was painful.

“Please cum for me baby, please cum inside me,” Y/N whimpered in her soft voice and that was all he needed before he spilled in her, short desperate thrusts as he rested his head on her collarbone, taking in her vanilla perfume and felt her arms wrapping around his neck holding him impossibly close while ripple after ripple of pleasure took over his body. His thrusting stopped and Harry felt spent as he tried to regulate his breathing back to normal.

Harry gathered Y/N in his arms and laid her carefully on the bed after removing himself from inside her even though she whimpered due to sensitivity and he took the place right next to her. They faced each other, their breaths mixing together as they relaxed in each other’s presence. Harry raised a hand to push away the hairs getting in Y/N’s face and she hummed in appreciation.

“God, I barely remember what year we have,” she frowned and opened her eyes at the sound of his laughter.

“I do believe that it is 1940,” he mused and her face regained a rosy colour at the game long forgotten.

“I… You don’t have to pretend anymore,” she whispered trying to avoid his gaze.

Harry head turned in question. “Pretend what? I am only a soldier coming back from the battlefield to make love to the woman I love.”

Y/N blushed.

“Because it seems she holds a deep fascination for men in army apparel,” Harry continued and smirked when she mumbled something under her breath.

“What was that sweetheart?” he asked and when he received no answer he dipped his hand between her thighs hissing at the wetness of her mixing with his release as he plunged two fingers in her.

Y/N yelped, “Not every man, just you,” she confessed and Harry satisfied moved his fingers lazily.

“Although I appreciate the welcome home, you have not offered me anything to eat,” he frowned and he knew that if it wasn’t for his fingers pinning her down she would have leaped up to order him something to eat.

“What would you like?” Y/N asked with difficulty because of the sensation he caused her.

“Well I see that you have a whole feast here already waiting for me,” he retorted and pulled his fingers away.

At her confused gaze, Harry whispered hotly in her ear, “Although I could never forget how tight you feel around me love, nothing really reminds me of the way your pussy taste under me,”

And with that, he pushed her legs open and dived between then before she could even atter a word of surprise.  

[fanficshiddles]

Obsession, Chapter 16

It was the dreaded day.

Tom was excited, in-fact he was ecstatic to be going home. While Robyn was even more scared than she had been at the beginning when he had first kidnapped her.

She really DID NOT want to go. She knew that would be it, as soon as he got her there it would be over. There would be no chance of escaping. Which was a terrifying thought.

But she had ran out of time.

‘Now, you have two choices. You can either come with me calmly, quietly, and sit in the front with me. Or you can misbehave and get bundled into the boot again. It’s your choice.’ Tom offered when it was late evening and dark.

Robyn looked down, she was shaking at the mere thought of it all.

‘I’ll go quietly.’ She whispered.

Tom reached out and gripped her chin, lifting her head up so she was to meet his gaze. ‘Good choice. But know this, if you scream or cause a scene of any kind, you will be straight in the boot. Tied and gagged. Is that understood?’

Robyn swallowed hard and nodded. As much as she wanted to try and make some sort of scene to get help when outside, she knew it would take a while for someone to come and help. As it was so late, everyone would be in bed. And then she would be in worse trouble with him, something she didn’t want.

He tied rope around her ankles, so she could only take small steps. To avoid her running away again. He wasn’t taking any chances of that happening.

With a hand firmly wrapped around her upper arm, after he’d packed all of his things and her small bag into the car, he led her out of the house for the last time and over to his jag. She looked longingly across the road at her home, knowing she would never see it again. It made her heart ache so badly.

‘Come on, kitten.’ He guided her round and opened the passenger door for her. She reluctantly got in and Tom leaned across her to put her seatbelt on, deliberately taking his time. Then he shut the door and headed round to the driver’s side.

‘Are you excited to see your new home, darling?’ He asked calmly when he started up the engine.

‘No.’ She said stubbornly, but sadly as she looked out the window to her house again.

Tom slid his hand into her hair and took a fistful, forcing her head round to look at him. She hissed in pain as he hurt her scalp.

‘No is not a word I ever want to hear from you, kitten.’ He snarled, narrowing his eyes at her. ‘Do I make myself clear?’

She nodded, trembling. Tom released her hair and she shrunk as far away from him as she possibly could. While he drove, she looked out of the window the entire time. Ignoring his small talk completely.

He was taking her to the other side of the city, into the suburbs. She was so shocked when they ended up in the rich area, and turned down a fancy street. The houses were all huge and had massive fences between them for privacy, which figures, she thought.

Even though she knew he had sound proofed his home, she thought he wouldn’t have needed to anyway. The gardens were huge and there was so much space between all the houses as it was.

‘Ah, home at last.’ Tom hummed as he pulled up at one of the houses near the bottom of the road. He typed the code into a key pad and the large wooden gates swung open for him to drive in.

It was a lovely house, quite modern and had a lot of large windows. Seemed like it would be very bright and airy. Tom got out his car after pulling into the garage. The garage door was just closing as he got Robyn out, she looked at the door as it closed shut. Finalising her entrapment.

Tom untied her ankles so she could walk easier. Knowing if she even got out of the house, the fence was too high for her to climb over anyway.

‘Welcome home, kitten.’ He put his arm around her waist and led her inside.

Her eyes widened in awe when she stepped in.

It was a huge open plan living room and kitchen, it was really modern just like she had expected from the outside. There was a wall-to-wall window in the kitchen, looking out onto the large garden. The kitchen counter tops were a beautiful black marble with some colourful sparkles through it. It had all the mod cons, of course. Including a mini bar area.

The living room had a large fire on one wall, with a large flat screen TV above. There was a large half circle sofa in a dip in the middle of the room, with a big table in the middle. There was a pool table and dinner table at the side of the room, on front of a large window.

But what caught her attention was the huge aquarium that spanned a large area of the wall in the living room section. She was sure she could see another room at the other side of it, but she wasn’t sure because she was distracted by all the beautiful fish swimming around.

‘Come on, let me show you the best bit.’ He grinned and took hold of her hand, he dragged her over to a door that was just between the kitchen and living room, next to the fish tank. What she noticed first was the large bolt at the top of the door, out of her reach but easy for Tom to get to.

There was also a keypad at the side. Tom typed in a code, hidden from her view. There was a click and a green light flashed. He opened the door and motioned for her to go in.

She stepped into the room and was rather amazed once again. It was a large bedroom with a huge Queen-sized bed. She ignored the bars along the top and bottom, guessing rather easily what they would be for.

There was a large flat screen TV on the unit opposite the bed, a large wardrobe with large mirrors on the doors next to it. There was also a dressing table, with a hair dryer, straighteners and curlers on hooks at the side of it.

The aquarium had been aptly put where it was so Tom could keep an eye on her, no matter where she was in the house from wherever he was.

Tom opened another door that was on the same side as the TV, it was an en-suite bathroom. Tom hadn’t been lying when he said he got a large shower and bath installed. But she noticed on the small shelf above the sink, just under the mirror, there was two tooth brushes in a small cup with toothpaste.

He really had thought of everything for her. As she also noticed her favourite brand of shampoo, conditioner and body wash in the shower holder.

‘You have complete access to the bedroom and bathroom, of course. And when I’m here, I will unlock the door so you can go to the living room and kitchen too. The doors to the garden are always locked, you will get outside for fresh air daily, with me.’ Tom explained as he walked with her back into the bedroom.

She rubbed her arm nervously. It was certainly better than the previous place, much larger and she would have a lot more freedom instead of being tied to the bed and gagged most of the time. But that wasn’t the point.

She wanted her complete freedom back. Her life.

But if she thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.

He took hold of her arm and led her back out into the main part of the house. There was another door leading off the living room, with a keypad for that room too.

This room didn’t have her in awe though, it made her feel physically sick.

It was like a torture room.

Or in Tom’s eyes, a BDSM room.

There was a fucking machine, a Sybian, wooden stocks, a chair with a hole in it, multiple table-like surfaces. There was various ropes of different size and texture hanging up next to some floggers and various sex toys.

She had only looked around the room once before she backed out of it straight away. Tom chuckled at her reaction of horror.

‘We are not going to play right now, kitten. You need time to settle in first.’ He grinned and shut the door, locking it with the code she was yet to see. But she knew she had to get that code.

‘Go to our room and get settled in.’ He said as he slid his hand down her back and gently patted her bum. He saw her through to her room and locked the door behind her.

He headed out to the garage and opened up the loft hatch next to his car, steps unfolded down for him automatically, he headed up and grinned when he saw the room was set up perfectly.

It was a large office he’d had built above the garage. His desk was set up with a computer and a few screens, showing various parts of the house through the security cams that was on in every single room, covering all areas. He sat down and watched his girl as she looked around the bedroom properly, the bathroom too.

‘That’s it, pet. Get accustomed to your new surroundings.’ He purred, rubbing his lower lip as he watched her closely.

‘You are going nowhere now.’

[mr-styles]

Prettybird directors Bradley & Pablo tell Addison Capper about an epic harvest of watermelons on Harry’s farm, inspiration from old pictures of Jack Nicholson and Paul McCartney, and racing against the setting of the sun

LBB> When you first heard Watermelon Sugar, what was your definition of a “watermelon sugar high”?

Bradley & Pablo> Honestly not sure we had one… maybe because we’re too naive. It just sounded nice. Luckily Molly [Hawkins, creative director], Bryan [Younce, commissioner] and Harry opened our eyes.

LBB> When did you first begin working on this promo? And what were your initial thoughts and plans when it came in?

Bradley & Pablo> We first started working on this song about a week before we shot it! We’d been trying to work with Harry on the album for a while - we had written two or three other ideas for other songs last summer by the time Watermelon Sugar came around.

In the end the timing felt kind of poetic. It was the last project we shot before the lockdown and it really was the complete antithesis to the situation we find ourselves in now. It feels super meaningful now that this has been released during the pandemic because It speaks to what everybody is missing right now - physical human touch and connection.  

LBB> It’s a joyful bit of film anyway but even more so because it’s full of all the things that everyone wants at the moment. Did you ever debate changing it? Or did it all suddenly seem even more perfect?

Bradley & Pablo> We never debated changing it but we did start to get concerned that the record label wouldn’t release the video because they felt it was insensitive or tone deaf or something, but when we started talking about releasing it again, we had the idea of adding a tagline to the front of it like ‘in loving memory of touch’ or ‘dedicated to touching’ and it re-contextualises it in a way that feels perfect for the time.

LBB> Aside from the dedication to touching, did the film change at all due to the pandemic?

Bradley & Pablo> No it didn’t! It just came out a little later.

LBB> I get vibes of like old school hip hop videos but with a Harry Styles vibe. I like it. Were they an inspiration at all? Where else did you look for inspiration?

Bradley & Pablo> That wasn’t a conscious inspiration for us but that’s definitely a cool one to think about. We knew from talking to Harry and his creative director that they wanted to basically dedicate this song to girls and boys and sexual pleasure, it was about creating an atmosphere. We loved the idea and the spirit of it and we felt one of our main jobs was to portray this idea in a tasteful way.

There were two key references at the beginning of the project which Harry and Molly gave us. One was an old picture of Jack Nicholson eating a watermelon with this amazingly mischievous grin and the other was an image of Paul McCartney at a beach party in the ‘60s where he looks like he’s tripping on acid in the best way. Both of these really informed and encapsulated the spirit that we wanted to bring to this whole thing.

We also looked at photographers like Stephen Meisel to inspire some of the more composed setups and Guy Bourdin playing with the playful, sexy innuendos that you find in some of his work.

Other than that one of the biggest inspirations was actually just Harry’s own image that he and his creative director Molly have created around this album campaign. We love his progressive fashion sensibilities and Gucci campaigns and so we just wanted to make something that would fit into his world. He also has this effortlessness, he’s so magnetic and cool without trying so we wanted to make sure we created a scene where he could champion that.

LBB> Harry does some pretty pristine watermelon biting. How did you coax those out of him?

Bradley & Pablo> Sadly we can take no credit for that… Guess he just really knows how to eat watermelon.

LBB> What was the production process like? Where did you shoot? Where in the world has such an abundance of perfect watermelons? And what was the mood like on set?

Bradley & Pablo> The production process was fast! We shot in a location in Malibu. It was a private beach at this amazing house. Harry actually owns a watermelon farm in a secret location that we can’t disclose. So the day before the shoot we went with our whole crew, make-up artists, set decorators, focus pullers you name it! We all rolled up our sleeves, got stuck in and did the biggest harvest anyone in the USA has ever seen!

The mood on set was really good. Credit goes to the whole cast and Harry himself, who were all amazing to work with, they all had such amazing genuine warm energy and a big part of the success of this video is owed to them for being so much fun. We think you can really see that reflected in the video.

Meanwhile we were actually inwardly freaking out a little because we only had one day, we had to shoot from sunrise to sunset (which is a very small window in January) and there is an even smaller window within that where the light is actually good enough to get that punchy graphic blue sky and beautiful looking skin, and shooting on a beach is HARD! The shoot was also quite a new, different kind of challenge for us because it was loosely structured - we were flexible with what we were shooting - there was no real story it was more about just creating an atmosphere. We also tend to usually shoot with lots of lighting and art direction but we didn’t really have much of anything so it was a different kind of test in directing for us.

LBB> From an aesthetic point of view, what were your main aims and inspirations with the grade, art direction and costume?

Bradley & Pablo> We were definitely very influenced by the rich Gucci styling and the ‘60s era of the Paul McCartney image. The art direction and pallet started with the styling and grew out from there. We wanted to mix busy patterns/textiles with block colours like warm oranges, browns and the graphic blue skies to create this warm, hazy nostalgic aesthetic but with a modern contemporary edge that also came in part from the casting and some detailing in the wardrobe.

LBB> How did you capture the vintage looking shots?

Bradley & Pablo> We shot on 35 and 16 mm on an Arri SR3. That was really a core component that we would not compromise on. It was also just about keeping that side of things simple, hats off to Frank Mobilio [DOP] who, with a 16mm camera, a mirror and a reflector, managed to make such beautiful images. We also worked with our regular colourist Dave Hussey who always elevates things in his particular way.

LBB> What were the trickiest components and how did you overcome them?

Bradley & Pablo> TIME! As we said we were working against the sun. As we often do now on shoots, we split up and direct two separate units simultaneously. It’s nice to be able to do everything together but we are in a place now where we can trust the other as they go off more autonomously which massively helps us to be more ambitious with a shot list.

Also, learning how to keep those slices of watermelon looking fresh. The best solution seems to be to eat it and cut more slices.

LBB> Any parting thoughts?

Bradley & Pablo> Bring back seeded watermelons!

[smolbeandrabbles]

Try It On, Take It Off - Orson Krennic x Reader (Rogue One)

100 Sentence Challenge Request

Orson Krennic + 95 -  “Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween.” Requested by @mysticaltimemachinewench

Author’s Note: Roll with the idea of Halloween and October 31st being things in the Star Wars universe just for this fic, please! This boy is so whiny, I spent all week writing for him last week and he’s still like “write more!” so, I thought I’d post one. It’s because he’s all the bottom of my drafts now I’m sure of it. Boots & Boys - Kesha  Okay, so I was looking for songs to do with dressing up. And I found a bunch of cute love songs about wearing your SOs clothing, but... This one is fun and I needed fun for the premise-!

Disclaimer: Rogue One Characters/SW Universe not mine. / Requested  premise / lyrics & gifs not mine.

Premise: Every Halloween it’s the same thing, and Krennic is sick of people dressing like him. This year he’s determined to get to the bottom of things...

Words: 2010

Warnings: Swearing / Sexual connotations/Pre-Amble

_____

Think it's time that I mention I've got myself an obsession For the smell, for the touch I know I've got myself a habit But I gotta have it now I don't care where, work it out Let me break it down I try it on, I take it off So what you got? Something 'bout boots and boys They bring me so much joy I gotta say I wear 'em both so pretty as I walk in the city Give me boots and boys I'm keeping quite the collection Take nothing less than perfection My men drop beats like a bomb Wind me up, spin me round Oh, lookie what I found (ooh!) I'm crazy for you, crazy for you Hey hey, whatcha looking at? Hey hey, something you can't have They've got me looking rad You feeling that?

---

October 31st was always a date Krennic hated seeing in his calendar. The Death Star had not been a project spanning months by any stretch of the imagination. Orson was many, many years into this – and he was now accustomed to his workers Halloween traditions. He couldn’t say it wasn’t one of the reasons he was glad that it was nearing completion. That, and he might finally get the recognition he deserved. At least for now he had you. Given, you were relatively new to the project when he looked at the timeline as a whole, but you were certainly a necessary piece – and Krennic actually liked you. A lot of the other employees, if he were honest with himself, he actually could have done without. Which is probably why you’d grown close – and then maybe a little too close. But Orson wasn’t going back on that now. This was the day Krennic didn’t want to leave his office – inevitably, it was also the day that everyone would have him chasing all over the structure. Why? Oh, because they all knew how much he hated today too! So as soon as the email pinged in from the other side of the Death Star, Krennic tried everything he could to get them to come to him, or to send him documents, pictures, anything that meant he didn’t have to go on an annoyingly long walk. Orson used practically every persuasive trick in the book, to no avail. Eventually he had to concede rising from his desk, sighing angrily, and gathering his things to head to the problem. Almost immediately he was assaulted with the kind of visuals he’d become accustomed to. It seemed every other person on this damned vessel took today to dress up as him. Now, whilst dressing in the full white Intelligence Bureau tunic would have been against protocol and would have meant he could reprimand them, everyone decided to wear capes of various different colours instead. Some, like his, matched their uniforms – and if it wasn’t also for the fact they copied the way he walked and carried himself, with an unconvincing attempt at his accent and speech patterns, he’d find it quite tasteful. Krennic would almost be flattered, he supposed - perhaps even feel like a trend setter – had the crew not being doing it for any other reason than to mock him. God forbid any of them attempt Lexrulian; one day it was going to make his ears bleed. Others decided to wear their ‘capes’ in the gaudiest colours imaginable, and sometimes Orson felt like he was going to be physically ill just staring at them.

Still, technically all of this was against regulation – and although he probably couldn’t take on the entire staff and win, he took pleasure in chastising those he disliked most. “Isn’t that a little against your uniform regulation?” “Take that off now – before I have you reported.” “Next time I catch you in something like this, you’re off the project.” Annoyingly, he could never keep how irked he was out of his voice – and they took great joy out of that, and never bothered hiding it. When they did take these ridiculous attempts at mocking him off (Though it worked. He supposed.), Krennic knew they’d be pulled back on before he rounded the next corner – but for now at least, Orson could be smug in his little bit of power. The fact he could actually force the crew to remove them. He often pondered how this started. Tarkin, he had no doubt. Krennic wasn’t going to blame himself after all, he knew his uniform looked damn good. He just wasn’t fool enough to think this was respectful admiration. Eventually he reached the person who emailed him and, as predicted, it was an easy fix that Krennic could have done in less than five minutes on his tablet back in his office. The Director almost punished them on the spot for that, but by this time was already too pissed off with the situation to trust himself not to lose complete control. Not that that didn’t happen a lot, especially when everything was stalling – but today that was what everyone wanted. ‘If I see another bad attempt at ridiculing my uniform I’ll scream…’  Orson’s jaw was beginning to ache with the way he was tightening it. Half way back to his office, Krennic took a detour. By now he really was yelling at people – Orson was this close to drawing weapons and kicking them off the station, Project Stardust be damned. Desperately seeking respite, he wandered back to his quarters and as the corridors began to quieten, scuffled along in his boots, sulking. ‘What did I ever do to deserve this-!?’ Reaching the door to his room, Krennic gave a small smile – he would receive relief in here. Well at least she will be sweet... I can tell her my frustrations and she’ll sympathize… As Krennic keyed himself in and the door slid open, he realised just how wrong he could be. You were walking up and down the main room and studying yourself in about every reflective surface you could find. If this wasn’t you, Krennic would have blown it, and immediately all his irritations came flooding back. You were, of course – with access to his wardrobe - pacing around in his uniform. Full Intelligence white, rank bar included. Sure, the sleeves were rolled up – which pained him because it’d take an age to get those creases out - and the cape was a little long for you, but, you had the whole thing on, right down to the boots. Usually Krennic might smirk and call you out on wearing his clothes, after all you did look good in his tailored shirts. Any other day of the week he’d probably be pretty turned on right now. But NOT today. As the door slid closed behind him and beeped locked, you whirled around. The cape moved with you and your eyes fell to it; immediately distracted. Krennic’s uniform was gorgeous on him, but the feeling of power you got when wearing it for yourself was indescribable. You liked running your hands over it – the feeling of the fabric between your fingers very nearly bordering obsessive with your need to do it at every chance you could; it was so perfectly weighted that, in all honesty, the tailoring was a marvel to you. You always made a mental note to thank the designers and sewers for their impeccable work. (On Orson’s entire wardrobe, actually.) “Director.” You presented yourself and looked back to him, “What do you think?” Orson very nearly shivered, and if he wasn’t so pissed he’d probably have let himself. That was Lexrulian – and compared to everything else he’d heard today, was very nearly music to his ears. “What are you doing-!?” There was a snap in the undertone of his voice – agitated, to match the way his jaw tightened. You answered cheerily, nonetheless. “It’s Halloween. So, I’m you! I mean you could be me if you wanted, but I’m not sure the uniform would fit-!” You giggled slightly at the mental image of him in your tight black jacket – no, maybe it wouldn’t fit properly, but it might look really good. If only for a second. Although Krennic was glaring at you by now. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, is all this YOUR idea-!?” For a moment you looked innocent, “No! You mean the fact everyone else does it? I didn’t start it, but I felt I could damn well finish it. Besides, LOOK!, I can do it better than everyone else!” “No! No! Y/N-!” You scrambled up onto the table, and cleared your throat. It was clear to Krennic you’d been practicing, because you had his stance down and his mannerisms almost perfect. He was almost impressed. “The POWER we are dealing with here is immeasurable! Single reactor ignition would be just an inkling of it’s true destructive potential! And I will not fail!” He blinked slowly, thinking you were mixing up at least three of his previous conversations there. There was a long pause before Krennic stepped forward, pointing at you. “GET. DOWN! Do you have any idea how expensive that table was-!?” “Awwww, Orson, c’mon!!” “I’m NOT impressed, GET DOWN!” “Baaabe.” “Don’t whine..!” You backed up just out of his reach, even your best innocent eyes weren’t saving you today – he must have been furious. “But it took me so long, I’ve tried on all the variants, I tried on your dress uniform even-! And it isn’t complete without the cape, and the rain one doesn’t have a patch on the glory of this one!! I thought it wouldn’t drag if I put on my heeled boots, but that didn’t get the look right either! And it’s you – so, it had to be perfect…” Your eyes glittered gently as you tried to plead with him, “I thought if I did it properly, it might make you smile. That it might be more… respectful. I dunno I-” He cut you off, demanding, “OFF. THE. TABLE.” “Well, what are you gonna do-!?!” Krennic was quick on his feet, and even though you’d backed yourself up he still managed to grab your wrist and drag you down. You might have been in his uniform, but you were nowhere near his height; and you might have had his traits down, but you didn’t have his strength either. Meaning within seconds he had you shoved up against a wall – with a squeak – before his lips were on yours, wrists pinned by your sides. He might have been angry, but that only made this kiss hotter, and you practically melted into him. Orson was showing you absolutely no mercy – and you weren’t sure if you really deserved it, but you were at least a little glad of it. Eventually he pulled away from you; leaving you gasping and panting for breath. But you whined, wanting more from him. “Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween.” Krennic had, many a time. Which is one of the reasons you wanted to do this, because he might feel a little better if you were doing it right. Clearly you were in the wrong ballpark. You thought about nodding in admittance, but thought maybe continuing to be playful would get you what you wanted. “Don’t think you did – maybe you did. You should remind me.” “Oh, I think I will.” His smirk was back as you let him run his hands through the fastenings of the tunic and unzip your pants. Oh, yeah, he wanted this uniform off bad. You bit your lip, “It does look sexy on you though, is it surprising everyone wants to copy it? I mean I like trying it on and taking it off.” Orson nipped your neck, eliciting a gasp from you; “Evidently I might too.” Then he chuckled at your sigh, running his hands over your warm skin, “That doesn’t make me hate today any less. I mean it’s hardly tribute, is it?” You tipped your head, “I mean, I tried.” “Oh, don’t think I didn’t hear that mocking tone.” He grazed his lips to yours, and it was hardly rewarding, you pined for more but he held you away from him – still immobilized against the wall, “Still, I’ll admit so much… you do look very pretty in white.” You did very nearly blush, but knew that his mind wouldn’t be going to something as virtuous as weddings or dresses; probably a different kind of white lace altogether. “Can I keep the cape at least?” Maybe he’d enjoy you wearing that and very little else. That would be like a ‘sexy’ Halloween costume, would it not? Even if it was just for him. Maybe that’s what Krennic needed if he detested today so much. He growled, kissing you again before you let him slide the jacket from your shoulders and it fell to the floor; “If you’re good, we’ll see.”

--- Thank you very much for reading! It’s been a while since Krennic has been posted too, I’ll admit! 🙏❤

2/16 down!

[stylesnews]

Bradley & Pablo told LBB's Addison Capper about how they brought this film to life via an epic harvest of watermelons and one-day against-the-clock shoot. 

LBB> When you first heard Watermelon Sugar, what was your definition of a "watermelon sugar high"?

Bradley & Pablo> Honestly not sure we had one... maybe because we’re too naive. It just sounded nice. Luckily Molly [Hawkins, creative director], Bryan [Younce, commissioner] and Harry opened our eyes.

LBB> When did you first begin working on this promo? And what were your initial thoughts and plans when it came in?

Bradley & Pablo> We first started working on this song about a week before we shot it! We’d been trying to work with Harry on the album for a while - we had written two or three other ideas for other songs last summer by the time Watermelon Sugar came around. In the end the timing felt kind of poetic. It was the last project we shot before the lockdown and it really was the complete antithesis to the situation we find ourselves in now. It feels super meaningful now that this has been released during the pandemic because It speaks to what everybody is missing right now - physical human touch and connection.  

LBB> It’s a joyful bit of film anyway but even more so because it’s full of all the things that everyone wants at the moment. Did you ever debate changing it? Or did it all suddenly seem even more perfect?

Bradley & Pablo> We never debated changing it but we did start to get concerned that the record label wouldn’t release the video because they felt it was insensitive or tone deaf or something, but when we started talking about releasing it again, we had the idea of adding a tagline to the front of it like ‘in loving memory of touch’ or ‘dedicated to touching’ and it re-contextualises it in a way that feels perfect for the time.

LBB> Aside from the dedication to touching, did the film change at all due to the pandemic?

Bradley & Pablo> No it didn’t! It just came out a little later.

LBB> I get vibes of like old school hip hop videos but with a Harry Styles vibe. I like it. Were they an inspiration at all? Where else did you look for inspiration?

Bradley & Pablo> That wasn’t a conscious inspiration for us but that’s definitely a cool one to think about. We knew from talking to Harry and his creative director that they wanted to basically dedicate this song to girls and boys and sexual pleasure, it was about creating an atmosphere. We loved the idea and the spirit of it and we felt one of our main jobs was to portray this idea in a tasteful way.  There were two key references at the beginning of the project which Harry and Molly gave us. One was an old picture of Jack Nicholson eating a watermelon with this amazingly mischievous grin and the other was an image of Paul McCartney at a beach party in the ‘60s where he looks like he’s tripping on acid in the best way. Both of these really informed and encapsulated the spirit that we wanted to bring to this whole thing.

We also looked at photographers like Stephen Meisel to inspire some of the more composed setups and Guy Bourdin playing with the playful, sexy innuendos that you find in some of his work. Other than that one of the biggest inspirations was actually just Harry’s own image that he and his creative director Molly have created around this album campaign. We love his progressive fashion sensibilities and Gucci campaigns and so we just wanted to make something that would fit into his world. He also has this effortlessness, he’s so magnetic and cool without trying so we wanted to make sure we created a scene where he could champion that.

LBB> Harry does some pretty pristine watermelon biting. How did you coax those out of him?

Bradley & Pablo> Sadly we can take no credit for that... Guess he just really knows how to eat watermelon.

LBB> What was the production process like? Where did you shoot? Where in the world has such an abundance of perfect watermelons? And what was the mood like on set?

Bradley & Pablo> The production process was fast! We shot in a location in Malibu. It was a private beach at this amazing house. Harry actually owns a watermelon farm in a secret location that we can’t disclose. So the day before the shoot we went with our whole crew, make-up artists, set decorators, focus pullers you name it! We all rolled up our sleeves, got stuck in and did the biggest harvest anyone in the USA has ever seen!  The mood on set was really good. Credit goes to the whole cast and Harry himself, who were all amazing to work with, they all had such amazing genuine warm energy and a big part of the success of this video is owed to them for being so much fun. We think you can really see that reflected in the video. Meanwhile we were actually inwardly freaking out a little because we only had one day, we had to shoot from sunrise to sunset (which is a very small window in January) and there is an even smaller window within that where the light is actually good enough to get that punchy graphic blue sky and beautiful looking skin, and shooting on a beach is HARD! The shoot was also quite a new, different kind of challenge for us because it was loosely structured - we were flexible with what we were shooting - there was no real story it was more about just creating an atmosphere. We also tend to usually shoot with lots of lighting and art direction but we didn’t really have much of anything so it was a different kind of test in directing for us.   

LBB> From an aesthetic point of view, what were your main aims and inspirations with the grade, art direction and costume?

Bradley & Pablo> We were definitely very influenced by the rich Gucci styling and the ‘60s era of the Paul McCartney image. The art direction and pallet started with the styling and grew out from there. We wanted to mix busy patterns/textiles with block colours like warm oranges, browns and the graphic blue skies to create this warm, hazy nostalgic aesthetic but with a modern contemporary edge that also came in part from the casting and some detailing in the wardrobe

LBB> How did you capture the vintage looking shots?

Bradley & Pablo> We shot on 35 and 16 mm on an Arri SR3. That was really a core component that we would not compromise on. It was also just about keeping that side of things simple, hats off to Frank Mobilio [DOP] who, with a 16mm camera, a mirror and a reflector, managed to make such beautiful images. We also worked with our regular colourist Dave Hussey who always elevates things in his particular way.

LBB> What were the trickiest components and how did you overcome them?

Bradley & Pablo> TIME! As we said we were working against the sun. As we often do now on shoots, we split up and direct two separate units simultaneously. It's nice to be able to do everything together but we are in a place now where we can trust the other as they go off more autonomously which massively helps us to be more ambitious with a shot list. Also, learning how to keep those slices of watermelon looking fresh. The best solution seems to be to eat it and cut more slices.

LBB> Any parting thoughts?  

Bradley & Pablo> Bring back seeded watermelons! 

[thestylesindependent]

You could take Harry Styles' new promo for track Watermelon Sugar one of two ways. You could look at it and feel a little aggrieved at his shameless cavorting in the outside world, all touchy feely with a gang of beautiful people on a white sand beach. Then again, you could stop being such a grouch and take pleasure and immerse yourself in the vicarious joy of watching people doing pretty much everything that you would like to be doing right now but can't.

At least, that's what I took from the film, which was directed by Prettybird duo Bradley & Pablo. Dedicated to 'touching', Watermelon Sugar is an ode to the summer that we all deserved and crave. It's packed full of sun, sea and some of the most impeccable eating of watermelons you could possibly witness, which it turns out were all grown and harvested from Harry's own watermelon farm. Bradley & Pablo told LBB's Addison Capper about how they brought this film to life via an epic harvest of watermelons and one-day against-the-clock shoot.

LBB> When you first heard Watermelon Sugar, what was your definition of a "watermelon sugar high"? Bradley & Pablo> Honestly not sure we had one... maybe because we’re too naive. It just sounded nice. Luckily Molly [Hawkins, creative director], Bryan [Younce, commissioner] and Harry opened our eyes. 

LBB> When did you first begin working on this promo? And what were your initial thoughts and plans when it came in? Bradley & Pablo> We first started working on this song about a week before we shot it! We’d been trying to work with Harry on the album for a while - we had written two or three other ideas for other songs last summer by the time Watermelon Sugar came around. In the end the timing felt kind of poetic. It was the last project we shot before the lockdown and it really was the complete antithesis to the situation we find ourselves in now. It feels super meaningful now that this has been released during the pandemic because It speaks to what everybody is missing right now - physical human touch and connection.   LBB> It’s a joyful bit of film anyway but even more so because it’s full of all the things that everyone wants at the moment. Did you ever debate changing it? Or did it all suddenly seem even more perfect? Bradley & Pablo> We never debated changing it but we did start to get concerned that the record label wouldn’t release the video because they felt it was insensitive or tone deaf or something, but when we started talking about releasing it again, we had the idea of adding a tagline to the front of it like ‘in loving memory of touch’ or ‘dedicated to touching’ and it re-contextualises it in a way that feels perfect for the time. LBB> Aside from the dedication to touching, did the film change at all due to the pandemic? Bradley & Pablo> No it didn’t! It just came out a little later. LBB> I get vibes of like old school hip hop videos but with a Harry Styles vibe. I like it. Were they an inspiration at all? Where else did you look for inspiration? Bradley & Pablo> That wasn’t a conscious inspiration for us but that’s definitely a cool one to think about. We knew from talking to Harry and his creative director that they wanted to basically dedicate this song to girls and boys and sexual pleasure, it was about creating an atmosphere. We loved the idea and the spirit of it and we felt one of our main jobs was to portray this idea in a tasteful way.  There were two key references at the beginning of the project which Harry and Molly gave us. One was an old picture of Jack Nicholson eating a watermelon with this amazingly mischievous grin and the other was an image of Paul McCartney at a beach party in the ‘60s where he looks like he’s tripping on acid in the best way. Both of these really informed and encapsulated the spirit that we wanted to bring to this whole thing. We also looked at photographers like Stephen Meisel to inspire some of the more composed setups and Guy Bourdin playing with the playful, sexy innuendos that you find in some of his work. Other than that one of the biggest inspirations was actually just Harry’s own image that he and his creative director Molly have created around this album campaign. We love his progressive fashion sensibilities and Gucci campaigns and so we just wanted to make something that would fit into his world. He also has this effortlessness, he’s so magnetic and cool without trying so we wanted to make sure we created a scene where he could champion that. LBB> Harry does some pretty pristine watermelon biting. How did you coax those out of him? Bradley & Pablo> Sadly we can take no credit for that... Guess he just really knows how to eat watermelon. LBB> What was the production process like? Where did you shoot? Where in the world has such an abundance of perfect watermelons? And what was the mood like on set? Bradley & Pablo> The production process was fast! We shot in a location in Malibu. It was a private beach at this amazing house. Harry actually owns a watermelon farm in a secret location that we can’t disclose. So the day before the shoot we went with our whole crew, make-up artists, set decorators, focus pullers you name it! We all rolled up our sleeves, got stuck in and did the biggest harvest anyone in the USA has ever seen!  The mood on set was really good. Credit goes to the whole cast and Harry himself, who were all amazing to work with, they all had such amazing genuine warm energy and a big part of the success of this video is owed to them for being so much fun. We think you can really see that reflected in the video. Meanwhile we were actually inwardly freaking out a little because we only had one day, we had to shoot from sunrise to sunset (which is a very small window in January) and there is an even smaller window within that where the light is actually good enough to get that punchy graphic blue sky and beautiful looking skin, and shooting on a beach is HARD! The shoot was also quite a new, different kind of challenge for us because it was loosely structured - we were flexible with what we were shooting - there was no real story it was more about just creating an atmosphere. We also tend to usually shoot with lots of lighting and art direction but we didn’t really have much of anything so it was a different kind of test in directing for us.   LBB> From an aesthetic point of view, what were your main aims and inspirations with the grade, art direction and costume? Bradley & Pablo> We were definitely very influenced by the rich Gucci styling and the ‘60s era of the Paul McCartney image. The art direction and pallet started with the styling and grew out from there. We wanted to mix busy patterns/textiles with block colours like warm oranges, browns and the graphic blue skies to create this warm, hazy nostalgic aesthetic but with a modern contemporary edge that also came in part from the casting and some detailing in the wardrobe. LBB> How did you capture the vintage looking shots? Bradley & Pablo> We shot on 35 and 16 mm on an Arri SR3. That was really a core component that we would not compromise on. It was also just about keeping that side of things simple, hats off to Frank Mobilio [DOP] who, with a 16mm camera, a mirror and a reflector, managed to make such beautiful images. We also worked with our regular colourist Dave Hussey who always elevates things in his particular way. LBB> What were the trickiest components and how did you overcome them? Bradley & Pablo> TIME! As we said we were working against the sun. As we often do now on shoots, we split up and direct two separate units simultaneously. It's nice to be able to do everything together but we are in a place now where we can trust the other as they go off more autonomously which massively helps us to be more ambitious with a shot list. Also, learning how to keep those slices of watermelon looking fresh. The best solution seems to be to eat it and cut more slices.    LBB> Any parting thoughts?  Bradley & Pablo> Bring back seeded watermelons! 

[strangenewfriends]

LBB> When you first heard Watermelon Sugar, what was your definition of a "watermelon sugar high"?

Bradley & Pablo> Honestly not sure we had one... maybe because we’re too naive. It just sounded nice. Luckily Molly [Hawkins, creative director], Bryan [Younce, commissioner] and Harry opened our eyes.

LBB> When did you first begin working on this promo? And what were your initial thoughts and plans when it came in?

Bradley & Pablo> We first started working on this song about a week before we shot it! We’d been trying to work with Harry on the album for a while - we had written two or three other ideas for other songs last summer by the time Watermelon Sugar came around.

In the end the timing felt kind of poetic. It was the last project we shot before the lockdown and it really was the complete antithesis to the situation we find ourselves in now. It feels super meaningful now that this has been released during the pandemic because It speaks to what everybody is missing right now - physical human touch and connection.  

LBB> It’s a joyful bit of film anyway but even more so because it’s full of all the things that everyone wants at the moment. Did you ever debate changing it? Or did it all suddenly seem even more perfect?

Bradley & Pablo> We never debated changing it but we did start to get concerned that the record label wouldn’t release the video because they felt it was insensitive or tone deaf or something, but when we started talking about releasing it again, we had the idea of adding a tagline to the front of it like ‘in loving memory of touch’ or ‘dedicated to touching’ and it re-contextualises it in a way that feels perfect for the time.

LBB> Aside from the dedication to touching, did the film change at all due to the pandemic?

Bradley & Pablo> No it didn’t! It just came out a little later.

LBB> I get vibes of like old school hip hop videos but with a Harry Styles vibe. I like it. Were they an inspiration at all? Where else did you look for inspiration?

Bradley & Pablo> That wasn’t a conscious inspiration for us but that’s definitely a cool one to think about. We knew from talking to Harry and his creative director that they wanted to basically dedicate this song to girls and boys and sexual pleasure, it was about creating an atmosphere. We loved the idea and the spirit of it and we felt one of our main jobs was to portray this idea in a tasteful way.

There were two key references at the beginning of the project which Harry and Molly gave us. One was an old picture of Jack Nicholson eating a watermelon with this amazingly mischievous grin and the other was an image of Paul McCartney at a beach party in the ‘60s where he looks like he’s tripping on acid in the best way. Both of these really informed and encapsulated the spirit that we wanted to bring to this whole thing.

We also looked at photographers like Stephen Meisel to inspire some of the more composed setups and Guy Bourdin playing with the playful, sexy innuendos that you find in some of his work.

Other than that one of the biggest inspirations was actually just Harry’s own image that he and his creative director Molly have created around this album campaign. We love his progressive fashion sensibilities and Gucci campaigns and so we just wanted to make something that would fit into his world. He also has this effortlessness, he’s so magnetic and cool without trying so we wanted to make sure we created a scene where he could champion that.

LBB> Harry does some pretty pristine watermelon biting. How did you coax those out of him?

Bradley & Pablo> Sadly we can take no credit for that... Guess he just really knows how to eat watermelon.

LBB> What was the production process like? Where did you shoot? Where in the world has such an abundance of perfect watermelons? And what was the mood like on set?

Bradley & Pablo> The production process was fast! We shot in a location in Malibu. It was a private beach at this amazing house. Harry actually owns a watermelon farm in a secret location that we can’t disclose. So the day before the shoot we went with our whole crew, make-up artists, set decorators, focus pullers you name it! We all rolled up our sleeves, got stuck in and did the biggest harvest anyone in the USA has ever seen!

The mood on set was really good. Credit goes to the whole cast and Harry himself, who were all amazing to work with, they all had such amazing genuine warm energy and a big part of the success of this video is owed to them for being so much fun. We think you can really see that reflected in the video.

Meanwhile we were actually inwardly freaking out a little because we only had one day, we had to shoot from sunrise to sunset (which is a very small window in January) and there is an even smaller window within that where the light is actually good enough to get that punchy graphic blue sky and beautiful looking skin, and shooting on a beach is HARD! The shoot was also quite a new, different kind of challenge for us because it was loosely structured - we were flexible with what we were shooting - there was no real story it was more about just creating an atmosphere. We also tend to usually shoot with lots of lighting and art direction but we didn’t really have much of anything so it was a different kind of test in directing for us.

LBB> From an aesthetic point of view, what were your main aims and inspirations with the grade, art direction and costume?

Bradley & Pablo> We were definitely very influenced by the rich Gucci styling and the ‘60s era of the Paul McCartney image. The art direction and pallet started with the styling and grew out from there. We wanted to mix busy patterns/textiles with block colours like warm oranges, browns and the graphic blue skies to create this warm, hazy nostalgic aesthetic but with a modern contemporary edge that also came in part from the casting and some detailing in the wardrobe.

LBB> How did you capture the vintage looking shots?

Bradley & Pablo> We shot on 35 and 16 mm on an Arri SR3. That was really a core component that we would not compromise on. It was also just about keeping that side of things simple, hats off to Frank Mobilio [DOP] who, with a 16mm camera, a mirror and a reflector, managed to make such beautiful images. We also worked with our regular colourist Dave Hussey who always elevates things in his particular way.

LBB> What were the trickiest components and how did you overcome them?

Bradley & Pablo> TIME! As we said we were working against the sun. As we often do now on shoots, we split up and direct two separate units simultaneously. It's nice to be able to do everything together but we are in a place now where we can trust the other as they go off more autonomously which massively helps us to be more ambitious with a shot list.

Also, learning how to keep those slices of watermelon looking fresh. The best solution seems to be to eat it and cut more slices.

LBB> Any parting thoughts?

Bradley & Pablo> Bring back seeded watermelons!

[adifferentbrandofbeans]

Affect - 7

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

masterlist

words: 4.4k

Safe flight

 The only words I had spoken to him in a week, and I had not even spoken them. I had ignored every message he sent. Every picture of the ocean, every video of the group sipping cocktails, every goodnight text. All of it had gone unanswered.

 Part of me felt guilty for leaving him hanging, it felt petty and childish. However, part of me wanted him to feel as I had. Fucking confused.

All week I had been tormented by my own brain, rationalising and exaggerating the situation every five minutes with no respite. Work was no distraction, my work so mind-numbing that all my brain was consumed with had been him. Days had been spent inputting details while imagining Harry’s lips on my skin, nights spent wishing my hands were his.

He had consumed all my thoughts and I despised it. Why did I let it bother me so much? Harry and I are friends. Friends who occasionally fool around, sure, but friends none the less. It is not as though I am desperate to get into a relationship with him. I am not sure I even want a relationship at all right now, the one major boyfriend I had made sure to leave his mark in my life. How could I ever want to get into a situation like that again?

 No. Harry and I are friends and that is that. That cannot be why I am so bothered by seeming pictures of him with another girl. I mean, sure, having him kiss me before I left was… unprecedented. It was new and different and a little bit exciting, but that does not mean I want to be with him. He surely does not want to be with me either. Harry had been romantic, practically dedicating a song for us, but Harry is romantic. It is the reason so many people adore him, he has a heart of gold and a beautiful soul.

 Finally, my brain had come to the realisation that I had let myself get swept up by the excitement of it all. The sneaking around felt charming. The idea of loving under the sun was alluring, no doubt about it, but the sun has gone. This aspect of our relationship is needs-based, nothing more. No need to read into his actions anymore.

 Just landed. Can’t wait to see you, alright if I come round? x

 My throat tightens at the idea, but I agree anyway. This relationship is driven by need and I do need him. Having such a concentrated taste of him and then having him ripped away feels too cruel. There is no way I could deprive myself of him now.

 When he finally arrives, it is late in the night, so he knocks quietly, but I hear him loud and clear, having been doing nothing but sit on my sofa, sipping at a glass of wine for courage. I hold my breath as I open the front door, my hand shaking nervously as I look up at him.

 “Hi,” Harry says softly.

 I exhale quickly at the sight on my doorstep. Harry is still dressed for warmer weather, a light and billowy floral shirt partially unbuttoned to reveal a peak of chest hair. He is golden. In just one extra week he has bronzed beautifully, his smile looking even brighter as he looks to me.

 “Can I come in? Bit cold,” he says with a shaky laugh.

 “Oh,” I say with a shake of my head to bring me back to Earth. I step aside for him to walk inside, closing the door behind him and watch as he walks into the living room. “Wine?” I call after him.

 “I’m good, thanks, clear head and all that,” he says as I follow him to the sofa.

 I sit down at the other end and top up my glass until wine almost spills over the brim. Harry’s eyebrows knit together as he watches me.

 “Long week,” I explain with a wave of my hand, hoping he will avoid asking for details.

 “Yeah, noticed you were a bit absent,” he says gently but the guilt still pangs in my chest.

 “Uh, yeah, you know work… and didn’t want to interrupt you guys’ fun,” I mumble, desperately making up excuses I should have practiced before he got here.

 “Oh,” he replies, and his face softens, “That why you’ve been kind of weird?”

 My body tenses instinctively at his words, part of me wanting to explain that I have been ‘weird’ since he kissed me and then most likely shagged another girl hours after I left. But I hold back.

 “Yeah,” I mutter, “Hope you all had a good time though,”

 “Wasn’t the same without you,” he says and I almost scoff.

 Quickly reminding myself of the newly formed line between my emotions and my libido, I take a gulp of my wine before setting it down.

 “I’m glad you came round actually,” I say, and he smiles brightly.

 “Oh, yeah?”

 “Yeah, my vibrator kind of quit on me last night,” I laugh.

 “Oh,” Harry says softly, looking down as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt.

 “What? Did you want to come round and show me holiday snaps?” I tease and he looks back up at me with a smile.

 “Not exactly,” he breathes, “You look good, by the way,” he says, eyeing me up and down as he stretches, the long journey evident in the way his shoulders click as he reaches out.

 “Shut up,” I laugh, climbing into his lap until my knees are either side of his hips.

 “Mean it… missed you,” he says gently, his arms coming up, hands softly gliding up and down my bare arms.

 “Hey,” I say softly, lifting his gaze with a finger under the chin. His eyes stow away into mine and I take a deep breath to ensure my voice does not shake when it comes out, “Just fuck me, yeah?”

 His eyes stay on mine as he lets my words sink in. Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, he gives me a slow nod. I nod back and pull my shirt over my head, watching as his eyes trickle over the newly exposed flesh.

 After that we fall into a mess of movements, our bodies going through the motions as we undress and collapse back into each other. The sex is grabby and rushed, almost the antithesis of the last time. This is pure physical need. And afterwards, when I am slumped over Harry’s body, his hands on my hips as we catch our breaths, I do not feel completely satisfied.

 I take a sip from my wine, partially redressed in underwear and a vest. Passing the glass to Harry he takes a drink to finish the glass before pulling me back into him, so that I am sat across his knee.

 “Wanna go to a party tomorrow?” he asks, looking at me hopefully.

 “What party?” I ask, setting the empty glass down on the ground.

 “Thing for the record label, anniversary thing, there’s a dinner and then an afterparty,” he explains, looking down and playing with the fabric of my vest with one hand while the other rests on my bare thigh.

 “Is it fancy?” I ask, my muscles tensing slightly at the thought. A holiday with a small group of people who belong in Harry’s world is one thing, but a concentrated group in one place celebrating the thing they have in common that I will never understand is another thing entirely.

 “Think the dinner is but the party is at a club, probably a little fancy,” he tells me softly, his voice still a little bit hoarse from grunting my name moments ago.

 “Not jeans and a nice top kind of vibe then?” I ask, joking to hide the slight panic the idea stirs up.

 “Probably not,” he smiles as he looks up at me.

 His hair is a mess and exhaustion is clear on his face but he looks relaxed and happy, and it is a beautiful look on him. It is probably the look that makes me nod my head. Or maybe it is because I knew the grin that would occur when I agreed, big and lopsided and so endearing it makes me resent him for being so perfect at times.

 “I’ll dig through my wardrobe then,” I tell him. He smiles brightly and relaxes into the sofa, fatigue overtaking him. “Want to stay here tonight?” I ask, brushing the hair away from his face. Leaning his head into my hand, he closes his eyes and nods slightly.

 “Mm… s’nice,” he mutters at the way my fingers massage lightly against his scalp.

 “Come on, loser,” I say, standing up and grabbing both his hands to pull him from the sofa.

 He complies with no argument as I walk him to my bedroom and get him settled. By the time I come back to bed with two glasses of water he is already fast asleep. With a small smirk, I slide into bed beside him.

  In the morning, I have to sneak out of bed and tiptoe around my flat so as to not wake Harry. Figuring that he could do with some well-deserved rest, I leave him a spare key and a note telling him to text me where to meet him later. When I come home from work, the flat is empty, leaving me an addendum on the scrap of paper I had left him.

 Thanks for letting me sleep in, you’re a godsend. See you tonight, look gorgeous – H x

 Beneath is the address of the club, instructing to meet him there at 9pm. Three hours to get ready. Instantly, my mind begins to panic as I flick through my wardrobe, desperately seeking something befitting the occasion. All I want is to blend in, but I have a strong feeling that my budget-friendly attire will not cut it. I wish I knew who else was going so I could tag along rather than show up alone and sticking out like a sore thumb.

 Eventually, I land on black flared jumpsuit, attempting to dress it up with some jewellery, but feeling like a phony. Curling my hair within an inch of it’s life and plastering on enough makeup to somewhat hide me away, I order a taxi.

 Fidgeting through the whole journey, I text Harry to tell him I am on my way and touch up my lipstick repeatedly until I cannot stand the colour red any longer.

 I thank the driver when we arrive and head towards the entrance of the club. The street outside is lined with paparazzi all standing idly, checking their equipment as I walk past and up to the main door.

 “Private party tonight, sweetheart,” the bouncer says, holding his hand up to stop me proceeding any further.

 Trying to ignore the gut punch he just delivered, my attempt to dress up clearly not fooling anyone, I nervously tell him my name and he checks the list in his hand.

 “ID?” he asks. My hand shakes as I give it to him, humiliation eating at me as he looks down at it, then up to me, before exhaling and handing it back to me. He nods his head slightly, silently telling me I have permission to enter. Part of me does not even want to walk inside. Part of me wants to go home and pretend I got ill and could not make it. But I already told Harry I was coming, and not seeing him for a week did feel strange, so I take a deep breath and step into the club.

 The pounding music and flashing lights does little to quell my anxiety. A petite blonde offers me a flute of champagne and I gladly take it, gulping it without caring to notice the shocked look she gives me, mainly distracted by my stupidity at not taking several shots before turning up here.

 My eyes scan through the mass of bodies, urgently trying to spot Harry among them but it is no use. All I see is glamour. Women in tight little dresses dance with men in expensive suits. Harry blends right into a place like this. No doubt, he will be the one to find me. With that miserable thought, I make a wise decision to head to the bar.

 Once the bartender finally notices me, I order two shots of tequila and a double vodka lemonade, greatly appreciating the open bar. I knock back the shots and turn back to the crowd, craning my head to try and find my friend. It soon proves to be like trying to find a beautiful, famous needle in an equally beautiful and famous haystack.

 Watching as the room bounces with energy and intoxicated happiness, I could not feel more out of place. My very existence here feels like a cruel joke. My chest feels as though it is tightening with every thump of the blaring bassline. Deciding I need air, I quickly make a beeline for the smoking area, incredibly grateful that the small outside space is far less crowded, and I can take some deep breaths in semi-privacy.

 Taking time to focus on inhaling, exhaling, counting my breaths, I regain some normalcy, just in time to hear someone call my name. Looking up, I see Will approaching me with a smile plastered across his face which I cannot help but return, grateful to see a familiar face.

 “Thought that was you!” he exclaims happily, wrapping me in a hug.

 “Hi,” I mutter over his shoulder as he squeezes me excitedly.

 “When did you get here?” he asks upon releasing me, the smile not wiping from his face as we catch up.

 “Just now pretty much,” I reply, his presence helping the tightness in my chest.

 I explain to him about meeting up with Harry but not being able to find him, leaving out the humiliation and anxiety being here induced.

 “Oh, there’s a booth tucked away we were all kind of hanging out at,” he tells me, grabbing my hand and leading me back into the club to find our friend. It dawns on me that I should have expected to see Will here, he and Harry worked together regularly during the promo of Harry’s first solo album, the launch party he had a hand in organising being the night we met. Getting along with Will had been effortless, so being guided by him through the sea of heated bodies helped me stay calm. “Look who I found,” he announces as we reach a populated table in the corner of the room.

 Half of the members of the group flick their gaze towards us for a split second before returning to their conversations, however, a few pause, offering small, polite smiles, which I bashfully return. I notice Harry around the same time that he notices me. He is mid-conversation with a woman in her mid-20s, brunette, slim, beautiful, absolutely his type if his record is anything to go on. She is smiling brightly at him as he speaks, gesticulating wildly until he spots me a few feet away. For a moment, I think his eyes fix to mine and Will’s interlaced hands, but I blink at his gaze has shifted. He utters something to the woman he is speaking to before standing up to come and greet me. The brunette smiles gently to me, clearly not threatened by my sudden presence.

 “You’re here!” Harry grins, pulling me into a hug and swaying us side to side. “You look amazing,” he says, releasing me and grinning down at me.

 “Doesn’t she just?” Will speaks with a charming smile that spreads up to his eyes and makes them crinkle around the edges.

 Grateful for the soft lighting, I feel heat rise to my cheeks. Harry looks between us for a moment, slightly puzzled before grabbing my hand and pulling me to sit with the group. Will offers to get more drinks to replace the one I had failed to notice I had been sipping nervously.

 Sat amongst Harry’s work colleagues and peers I instantly feel like an outsider again. Sitting in on conversations I do not fully understand, all I can do is offer polite smiles and nod my head where appropriate. Harry’s eyes drift to me every so often, checking in on me and offering me a sympathetic look, understanding my awkwardness. In the same way, I offer him a look and small nod, understanding that this is what tonight is all about and he should enjoy himself. Still, he looks to me regularly.

 When Will arrives back with the drinks, he sits beside me and chuckles, “You’re hating this,” he observes.

 “Not really my scene… hard not to stand out,” I admit, brushing over some deep-rooted insecurities in a more socially acceptable way.

 “Since when was standing out a bad thing?” he asks with a reassuring smile, determined to elicit one from me. “Wanna dance?”

 I look down to the ocean of bodies filling the room, moving freely and happily, I cannot deny the desire to feel the way they do. I nod and motion to Harry where we are going, to which he nods and smiles quickly.

 Will and I make our way to the edge of the dancefloor, hips and shoulders starting to move along with the music.

 “You’ve got to relax!” Will laughs loudly, having to raise his voice so I can hear him above the music. Not noticing how tense I must seem, I watch him as he dramatically shakes out his arms and legs, earning a deep laugh from me. At least we both stick out; I think to myself.

 Deciding that if I am here, I might as well have fun, I join Will in his mad dance moves, laughing along every time he almost bumps into someone or spills his drink. We move along to the beat, sometimes moving offbeat too, dancing happily and excitedly as our favourite songs play loudly, remixed until the whole room seems to bounce along to the bassline. I realise the DJ is playing remixed versions of the artists belonging to the record label and smirk at the attempts to merge soulful ballads with dirty beats. I cannot help but laugh aloud when an Only Angel remix starts playing. Immediately, I look to Harry to beckon him to us. His eyes are already on me when I find him through the crowd and call him over. A smirk spreads across his lips and he makes his way towards us, the rest of the room noticing his movements and smiling at him as he comes to join them and celebrate his music.

 When he reaches us, cheering that he came to join, he dances alongside us, grooving to his own beat and singing along as the room suddenly shifts. The atmosphere changes and it feels as though we are at one of Harry’s shows, witnessing him entice the population with one swing of his hips.

 As the song continues, Harry refuses to break eye contact with me, making me laugh as he grabs my arms and puts them around his shoulders, crouching to dance with me so our legs are slotted between one another. Laughing at his antics, I play along and groove with him as he leans in to set his mouth beside my ear.

 “Haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you,” he says lowly, his hands moving to hold my hips. To the average bystander, he is simply guiding me so that our bodies move in sync. No one would notice the way his fingers dig into the soft flesh of my curves, just enough pressure to understand.

 Drawing my head back to look him in the eye, I see that mischievous glint and have an inkling we will not be staying much longer.

 “She’s an angel,” I continue to sing along, pretending not to be affected by the way his body moves against mine or the way his breath hits my skin and spreads chills across it.

 “My only angel,” he says with a smirk, a darkness spreading across his features as the song shifts suddenly, “Let’s get out of here,”.

 It is not a question, but I nod anyway, following his lead as we say goodbye to Will and then the group at the booth. Harry takes my hand in his and leads me to the back of the club, mentioning that everyone had been leaving this way to avoid getting papped while paralytic.

 Once outside, Harry makes a call for a driver to come and pick us up.

 “You cold?” he asks me as we wait, gesturing to his suit jacket.

 “I’m good,” I say truthfully, enjoying the shocking drop in temperature that the evening air provides. “Was getting a bit heated in there,” I tease.

 Harry smirks and steps in front of me, “Something that I blame you for wholeheartedly,”. A hand reaches up to hold the side of my neck, his fingers stretching over my jaw, eyes dropping to my lips, “Red suits you.”

 “Think it would suit you too… Could look pretty on your neck,” I say, dragging my nails gently across him, “Your chest… Stomach…” my hand follows, “Right here,” my hand settles lightly over his groin, enjoying the way his breathe hitches in his throat.

 “Yeah?” he asks, his voice low and quiet. His eyes widen, shining brightly as he watches me, studying my face, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. I watch his Adam’s apple bob slowly, a smirk tugging at my lips at his reaction.

 “Mm,” I hum with a nod, relishing the way his body seems to weaken and melt under my touch, my hand softly palming against him.

 “You’re really cool, have I ever told you that?” he asks with a grin, breaking the tension and stirring a laugh within me.

 “And you’re an idiot,” I chuckle, removing my hand and taking a step back from him.

 “Hey, where d’you think you’re going?” Harry smirks, stepping towards me to close the gap between us. With a soft lick of his lips, he cradles either side of my face in his hands, eyes flitting across my features. “Fancy watching some rubbish telly?”

 “I thought you were too horny to party a minute ago?” I ask incredulously.

 “I kind of am… kind of just want to hang out with my girl,” he smiles at me so warmly that I think I might just melt under him. He looks so sweet; how could I ever deny him?

 Trying to ignore the lump in my throat caused by hearing him speak to me so tenderly, and the use of (hopefully) my new nickname, I nod.

 “I don’t know if this is blurring the lines too much…” Harry utters gently, his face just inches from mine, “But I really like kissing you,”. There is a breathless laugh in his voice which I cannot help but mirror.

 “Yeah,” I whisper, our lips almost brushing as I speak.

 Inching even closer, our lips touch lightly, his mouth moving delicately against mine despite however many drinks we may have both consumed tonight. There is something in his kiss that roots itself deep within me, spreading a warm fizz throughout my extremities. His touch is addicting, and it takes a lot of strength to pull myself away from him when a car rolls up beside us.

 “This us?” I ask, fidgeting slightly in the cold night air. Harry nods and opens the car door for me, letting me slip in before closing the door behind himself and telling the driver my address. “Harry?” I ask, trying to pull his focus back to me rather than staring out of the window at the city passing by.

 “Hm?” he hums.

 “Are you seeing anyone?” I ask before I can really think about it, my curious mind taking over my rational one.

 “No,” he says softly, still gazing out of the window, “You?”

 “No,” I reply, my voice equally soft, “Do you ever get lonely?”

 He pauses before turning to look at me and takes my hand in his, “How could I ever feel lonely when I have you, eh?”.

 Try as I might, I cannot avoid the sinking feeling in my stomach. I knew what Harry and I have is just casual, but to hear him say I am basically an alternative to loneliness still stings. I give him a small smile to placate him until he is staring out of the window again. Using rooting around in my bag for my keys as an excuse, I withdraw my hand from his.

 When we arrive at my building, I hear the driver ask if Harry wants him to wait here. I wonder how many times this man has had to sit outside someone’s home, waiting for his boss to finish shagging to be driven home. Harry tells him he can leave and follows me up to my flat.

 “Place is kind of a mess,” I grumble as we enter, slightly embarrassed by the laundry drying in the hallway, my underwear on full display.

 “I remember this,” Harry says with a smirk, lifting the fabric of my red sundress, “That was a good night,”

 “Barely remember it,” I lie, brushing past him to head to my bedroom.

 I pick up some more comfortable clothes to change into, offering Harry some stuff he has left here in the past before heading into the bathroom to change and take my makeup off.

 Stop being weird.

 Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I let out a sigh. How did I get myself here? I look at myself, freshly barefaced, hair scraped into a bun, and plaster a smile across my face.

 Fake it ‘til you make it, girl.

 Giving myself a mental shake, I exit the bathroom and head back to my room, knocking softly.

 “Come in,” Harry laughs, watching as I enter, he adds, “You’ve seen me naked before,”

 “Yeah but that was different,” I admit quietly, climbing into bed beside him, staring straight ahead at my laptop that he has already set up and queued our favourite show.

 “You alright? Seem a bit…” Harry asks, looking at me with kind, concerned eyes.

 “Yeah, just a bit drained,” I say. Not a total lie, nor is it the complete truth.

 “Can always talk to me, angel,” he shares, putting an arm around me and kissing the top of my head.

 “I know,” I reply truthfully, “You’re my best mate, Harry, you know that?”

 “Likewise,” he says, squeezing me into his side.

[janustrash1]

my sides (masterpost)

hey, sorry that i haven't been posting at all recently. life has taken a bit of a slip downhill and things like my sleep schedule have been really out of wack.  to make up for it i’ve decided to talk about and introduce you guys to some very special characters of mine. my sides.

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before i introduce them, i’d like to talk about what they mean to me.  i got really into sanders sides at a very low point in my life. at this point i already had four characters that i considered my version of the main four sides. they didnt represent anything yet. i only knew that each of them were my version of a respective side. i had also started counselling at this point, and ended up talking to my councillor about sanders sides and how much i love the show and the dynamic. she encouraged me to take these characters and break them down into their essentials. making my first four sides. 

i would talk to my sides whenever i needed to figure something out. i was able to take the multitude of thoughts going through my head and divide them off into things that each side was saying. this made everything much easier to manage in my head as it was basically the equivalent of talking to friends. however a year passed and a new train of thought started occurring. i tried applying it to an existing side but that didnt work so, i made a new one, my fifth side. 

more recently, around the start of this year, i started having some, unpleasant, things happen with my mental state. i would hyper focus on too many things at once, meaning that i got little to no work done, i started having worsening intrusive thoughts, and i just all around felt a bad presence. once again, none of my sides were the ones causing this so, a new onw was made. my sixth and as of writing this, newest side.

my sides are a genuine coping mechanism for me. i have a rare profile of autism that makes it hard to understand my own emotions, and the sides help with that. they also act as someone i can tell everything to, and just generally help me feel less alone from time to time. im putting a lot out here to share a secret that i keep from most with the world, i would appreciate it if you guys would treat me just the same as always.  side note: yes my sides have different genders and some arent the same as me biologically. they are made like this to capture how some of these aspects of me can sometimes be more prevalent depending on how i present myself. it also just made sense to me. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

anyways, now that we know where they came from. i would like to introduce you to them. first up, The four Main sides

Opal (Optimism)

opal is probably the happiest side in the mindscape. she represents my happiness and excitement, as well as some of the content and calm feelings, often relating to my image. before Allison, she was the one to offer words of encouragement when things slipped up. some of the sides refer to her as “Mom” and Allison will often just call her “Wife” Opal wears a lot of pale pink and soft greys, not really one for bright or bold colours, she has an assortment of different headbands and bows but is most often seen wearing a pink cat ear headband. she is a Pan Cis Woman and uses She/Her pronouns

Ray (Reasoning)

Ray represents everything about me that doesnt revolve around my imagination, as well as some things that do. they are my sense of reasoning, there to talk me out of an impossible situation and ground me back to reality. they are here to make plans and help me stay physically and mentally well in the most efficient way possible. i would say that they are the most like a canon side out of all of them, having an uncanny resemblance to Logan as far as function is concerned. they are the “left brain” of the sides. they wear a light blue polo shirt, keeping the collar in place with a neatly knotted scouts neckerchief. they are the only side to actually wear glasses, even though i myself need them but often dont wear them. they are biologically genderless and use Them/They pronouns.

Cameron (Confidence)

Cameron is the most eccentric of all the sides, constantly bellowing his ideas in the most sing-songy, theatrical voice. he is the brightest and most determined, constantly suggesting new and “foolproof” plans to get big and become famous. unfortunately, these “foolproof” plans are often made by a fool. He doesnt always see the bigger picture, much like Opal, he always keeps his eyes on the prize, to such an extent that he often skips steps in his plan. he often wears fancy blue jackets, but his more casual wear is a royal blue button up over a white t shirt. He is a Cis man who uses He/Him pronouns. 

Percival (Paranoia)

Percival, or as we all call them, Percy, is the most quiet and reserved out of all of the sides, only kicking off when something could go wrong. when they were first created, they would do this constantly, however as time has progressed they have realised how this can be a hinderance more than a help, and has taken to not really speaking unless necessary. they are one of the ImagiSiblings, along with Ivory, they were temporarily separated as i got older however, and now they are quite scared of what ivory has become and will keep their distance when possible, but has shown that they very much can still be a brilliant older sibling to the younger side. they are often wrapped in a red blanket, with a black long sleeved shirt and leggings poking out from underneath. when they have to leave the house however, they throw on a red plaid hoodie and a black facemask, a new addition to their wardrobe. they are also biologically genderless and use Them/They pronouns.

now, my fifth side, created around a year and a half after the main 4

Allison (Protection) (Formerly Anger)

Allison was first created as a way to filter out some of the more angry and violent thoughts in my head and make sense of them. they never really seemed like the violent type, more like a protective mother, a role that they very much fulfil better, therefore they were recently changed and allowed to focus more on protecting me and my friends. they have a lot of.... violent suggestions, but they do genuinely care for me and  often stay up with me during sleepless nights, helping me get through the following day. they often wear an oversized blue shirt under an even more oversized black cardigan with a black trilby/fedora hat, sometimes switching the hat out for a plain beanie in the winter. they also carry my headphones in case i need a reminder that i always have music as a way to control my thoughts. they are an AFAB Demigirl and uses Them/They pronouns with female titles (miss, mom etc.)

and finally, my newest side, created around march of this year

Ivory (Impulse)

Ivory was created to explain the constant creative itch i get whenever there are too many ideas. they started off as a sweet, excitable child, but are quick to change when they dont get their way. they are able to shapeshift and will sometimes become threatening and scary if the creative itch isnt met to their standards. they are also the source of most of my intrusive thoughts, often thinking that their suggestions will help. overall they are probably the most dangerous side and we still do not know much about them. their clothes often change but one thing that always remains is a jacket that i actually own covered in various embroidery and collected patches. sometimes this will be worn over a simple t-shirt, sometimes over a black button up. they are the youngest of the sides, being around 10 physically. im not yet sure of their gender  but they seem to like Them/They pronouns

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and there you have it. theres my sides. it honestly feels good to have written this all down and have it in a convenient place to be able to show people. i hope you like them just as much as i do, if you have any further questions feel free to send me an ask or re-blog this post.

thank you so much to any of you who have read this far, i really appreciate it. 

[sweetfogarty]

days go by, give me a sign (Joaquin DeSantos x Kevin Keller)

Summary: Joaquin has been stuck in Riverdale since he died, only able to watch his friends and family from afar as a ghost. Watching Kevin try to move on with his life has been particularly hard, and so Joaquin decides that he wants to try and give him a sign to show him that he's still around, although that task is harder than he originally anticipated. AKA: Three times Joaquin tried and failed to give Kevin a sign and the one time he succeeded. 

Word count: 3.3K+

WARNINGS: None.

Author’s note: I’m submitting this for @southsidearchive​‘s event (Falloween) and @riverdale-events​‘ event (Tricks and Treats of Riverdale), both under their respective supernatural themes. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

ONE

Joaquin had been wanting to make contact with Kevin for a while, but being a ghost made that significantly harder for him. Observing his friends moving on with their lives since he died had made him feel forgotten, but seeing Kevin and not being able to reach out to him had been the hardest part. It was one thing having to watch people’s lives continue without him, but it was harder and more frustrating to not be able to communicate with those people anymore.

Joaquin’s life had been full of trials and tribulations, but he found life as a ghost lonelier than anything he’d ever experienced, being sent to San Junipero included.

He’d had been racking his brains for weeks trying to figure out how to get Kevin’s attention, and finally he’d managed to come up with a few ways to contact him and ensure that he knew it was him.

On a dark Friday night in Riverdale, Joaquin knew that it was officially time to put his plan into action.

Kevin sat lazily on the sofa, legs hanging over the arm of the chair with his own arms behind his head, propping it up. He was snuggled up under a warm blanket watching Modern Family- a typical Friday night for him.

Joaquin watched carefully, studying the boy he’d grown to love all those years ago, biding his time. Ghosts had a reputation for being able to affect electrical appliances, and Joaquin had been practicing whilst Kevin had been at school and Tom had been out at work, occasionally blowing a lightbulb or setting off the siren on the cruiser.

He was planning to try to use this new-found power to give Kevin a message that he would understand loud and clear.

Once the show went to its commercial, Joaquin tried with all his might to change the channel.

Kevin’s brows furrowed confusedly as the Netflix logo appeared on his TV, searching around to see if he’d laid on the remote and accidentally changed the channel, eventually catching sight of the remote on the coffee table and chalking it down to an electrical malfunction inside the television. It was on the older side, and they probably could do with a new one, so it wouldn’t have been too farfetched to have assumed that something weird was going on inside that old thing.

He started the worry however once the TV ‘randomly’ selected Kevin’s Netflix account and began scrolling through his recently watched shows.

Kevin’s pulse was in his throat as it finally stopped scrolling and settled on Great British Bake Off.

That had been their show. One night when the pair had first started dating, they’d been laid in Joaquin’s bed and had randomly decided to watch Great British Bake Off together. Eventually, they made a pact to never watch it without each other. It was their Friday night thing; Kevin would come around to see Joaquin after hitting the bakery on Main Street, ready for them to watch the show until they fell asleep with each other, stomachs full of goodies. It was stupid to some people, but to Kevin and Joaquin, it was the highlight of their week.

Kevin hadn’t been able to stomach watching the show since Joaquin had been found dead in Tent City months ago and seeing it on his screen made his ears feel hot and his stomach tie into knots.

Joaquin selected the show from where he stood at the back of the room, listening to the jingle as he watched Kevin carefully. He thought he’d know right away that it was him, being that it was their thing, but instead Kevin came undone right in front of him, turning the show off and going to his room in tears.

Guilt crept through Joaquin and he mentally cursed himself. Maybe it was too soon to be contacting him, especially in a way so personal, but it had been months since the funeral, and he knew that both of them would be grateful for an interaction. It would help them both heal in a way that time couldn’t allow, and so he had to try harder next time.

TWO

Joaquin had a different tactic this time- one that he hoped would upset Kevin a little less and make him understand that what was happening was something good, not something to be upset by or afraid of.

Kevin was a creature of habit; he got home from school at the same time every day, besides when he had wrestling practice, and so by Joaquin’s calculations he was due him imminently and this was when he was planning to make his next attempt at contacting his favourite boy.

Buried deep inside of Kevin’s closet was Joaquin’s Serpent jacket. He’d been given it by the Serpents when the boy had died as a token of their appreciation for all Kevin did for him and for the gang, and since receiving it, it had become his most prized possession. He wanted to have it framed and displayed on his bedroom wall, but for now, to keep it safe, he had it in his closet where he knew no one would find it. No one except Joaquin.

Joaquin pushed through the polo shirts and jumpers to eventually find his old jacket. As he pulled it out, he ran his ghostly hand over the leather, grinning has he looked over his old snakeskin. The leather still smelt the same and was still as battered as he remembered it being, and the black inner lining was still littered with patches of different fabric where it had been torn during scuffles and repaired by Kevin.

His favourite patch was the lime green one that was about an inch in length and width and sat just below his right pocket- Kevin had tried to teach him to sew that day and although he’d ended up stabbing himself with the needle more times than he could remember, he’d managed to sew it in, in the end. It was nowhere near perfect and Joaquin had hated the colour at first, but the memories attached to it had made him so fond of that little old patch that it made him feel something special even looking at it.

Joaquin laid the jacket on Kevin’s bed, smoothing it out as he took a seat at the desk a few feet away, ready to watch the scenario in front of him unfold, hopeful that today would be the day that the pair finally got to connect again.

It wasn’t long before the front door unlocked and Kevin came home. He almost instantly bound up the stairs to unpack his bag and get changed ready to go to Pop’s with the gang, not wanting to waste any time as he knew they’d be waiting for him given that he lived the furthest from their treasured diner.

Upon entering the room, Kevin stopped, eyeing the jacket suspiciously with knitted brows and a bemused look inching its way across his face. He cautiously circled the bed, not taking his eyes off the leather and touching it gently, like if he touched it too hard it would turn into dust before him and his last piece of Joaquin would be gone forever.

“Dad,” Kevin called out, straightening back up as he dragged his fingertips away from the jacket. “Have you been in my wardrobe today?”

“What would I be doing in your wardrobe?” Tom shouted up the stairs. “Looking for a v-neck to wear which would shred the second I tensed? No, Kev, I haven’t been in there.”

“Alright, alright, no need for the roast,” the teen laughed in response, grabbing the leather garment off of the bed, looping the shoulders over the arms of the coat hanger he’d had it hung on. “Just wondered.”

Joaquin watched as Kevin studied the jacket suspiciously, his shoulder hunched with tension and a newly found stress adorning his face. He hoped Kevin would finally put two and two together, crossing his fingers on his lap as he rested his elbows back against Kevin’s desk.

“This house is so weird, I don’t like this one bit,” the preppy boy mumbled to himself as he tried to brush off the feeling that he was being watched, slipping the jacket back into its place at the back of his wardrobe, utterly confused as to how it had ended up on his bed. “Out of sight, out of mind. C’mon Kev, get it together.”

Joaquin sighed. Although this was another failed attempt, he knew he was getting closer and Kevin was finally beginning to realise that someone or something was trying to get his attention.

He just hoped that he could make him realise who it was that was trying to communicate with him before he was too scared to even open his mind to the idea that it might be something good instead of something bad.

THREE

Joaquin had been doing some thinking, and he knew that this time he was going to have to step it up to make sure Kevin knew it was him. His plan was to make physical contact with the boy this time, hoping that the saying ‘third time’s a charm’ would be applicable to this situation he’d instigated and that they’d finally have their reunion.

It had been two weeks since his first disastrous attempt at communicating with the boy, and once again tonight he was lounging on the sofa watching TV, however this time with his Dad in an armchair across the room.

Joaquin had overheard Kevin on the phone talking to someone about what had been happening around the house, and part of him felt awful for how freaked out he’d made him feel, but he’d also heard him talking about how much he was struggling with the Serpents boy’s death and so that was the only thing keeping him going with these attempts. It was the desire to help Kevin move on that made him persevere, hoping that he could mend his heart in a strange kind of way.

Joaquin crept around the room, behind the sofa Kevin was sat on and to the right of him, approaching carefully. He passed past their houseplants, accidentally brushing them with his hand and causing the leaves to rustle and sway.

As if at once, Kevin sat up panicked, looking right at the ghost boy and then at his Dad.

“Dad, did you just see that?” He asked frantically, continuing when Tom shook his head. “The house plant just moved by itself, I saw it with my own two eyes!”

Kevin’s finger pointed to where Joaquin was stood frozen, his eyes flicking between the two Keller’s as he waited to see what would happen and whether he’d been rumbled.

“Easy, son,” Tom started, a low, laugh rumbling through his chest. “It’s probably just the warm air from the radiators, so just relax. You’ve been so paranoid lately about nothing- just enjoy some TV with your old man.”

Kevin sighed, sitting back into his seat as he tried to concentrate on the show, but his mind wouldn’t stop racing, thinking about all the things that had been happening around the house. Something was up, he knew it was, but he couldn’t prove any of it and it was driving him mad.

After a few minutes of waiting, hoping the situation would calm down, Joaquin finally approached Kevin taking a deep breath before he grabbed his hand, squeezing hard three times like he always used to when Kevin was scared to let him know that everything was okay.

Kevin yanked his hand away from Joaquin’s grasp, standing frantically up out of his feet taking a few steps away.

“Something just touched me! I know it sounds dumb, but something just touched me, I’m not lying,” he turned to his Dad, hands shaking, goose bumps rolling up his arms. He looked down at his hand, spotting rosy fingerprints blemishing the skin from where Joaquin had squeezed. “It was like something grabbed me. Look at these fingerprints, Dad!”

Tom took Kevin’s hand, gazing over the fingerprints. They were undeniable. “Kev, I see them, I do, but I honestly don’t know what to say. Is there no other explanation?”

Whilst the two men were talking, Kevin’s ginger tabby cat strolled in. Upon sensing Joaquin’s presence in the room, it hissed loudly, hunching its back and erecting its tail with a hook shape at the end, ears lowered, bearing its claws and fangs at him.

Kevin whipped his head around, noticing the cat looking right at the spot where Joaquin stood and where Kevin had thought something had grabbed him.

Joaquin watched as Kevin’s face deadpanned, his hands dropping to his sides dramatically. “This house is haunted, even the cat is freaking out! If this stuff carries on, I’m moving out- I’ve seen enough movies to know that if I stay here, I’m gonna die. I don’t know what is in this house, but it certainly isn’t me- I’m staying at Veronica’s. Hopefully you’re still alive when I come back.”

Joaquin stormed out of the room, shooting the cat a dirty look as he did so. He’d tried to give Kevin all the signs he could think of to let him know that it was him, and all he’d succeeded in doing was scaring him.

Maybe it was time to give up on him and any hopes he had of the two having one last goodbye.

FOUR

Kevin had become uncomfortably suspicious of his place over the last few weeks, feeling unnerved when his Dad wasn’t home and jumping at every creak or thump that he heard.

He’d never been an open believer of ghosts, but deep down he always thought there might be something, and the events that had unfolded in his quiet Riverdale house had confirmed to him that the paranormal was as real as real could be.

When he’d told Betty, she’d reassured him that he shouldn’t worry- Riverdale’s houses were old and his mind was probably playing tricks on him, but Kevin hadn’t completely bought it and his mind hadn’t even been close to settled. Josie, on the other hand, instantly recommended saging the house- she didn’t want to risk even playing around with the paranormal, especially with Halloween fast approaching, and so Kevin had heeded her advice and bought some sage ready to use tonight to banish whatever it was that was haunting him.

Kevin had gotten home late because of an intense wrestling session after school today, and Josie was due home from school in an hour after her rehearsals had finished, ready to help him cleanse the house of spirits, and so he opted to shower quickly before she got home.

The shower that Kevin decided to run was boiling hot, steaming up the mirror and the windows as he washed his hair and scrubbed his body absentmindedly, wondering what would happen when he saged the house.

Joaquin was sat on the toilet seat, miserable. His attempts at communicating with Kevin thus far had been so unsuccessful that he’d ended up driving the boy away from his own house and making him a nervous wreck.

As he sat in the steamy bathroom, moping whilst Kevin showered and sang show tunes, an idea popped into his head that was going to make or break this entire operation.

He stood up and cautiously approached the mirror, holding his finger a few millimetres away from the glass, a hesitation bubbling away in the pit of his stomach. Kevin was mere minutes away from banishing him from the house forever, and he’d come to realise after all these failed attempts that he was fighting a losing battle.

But he knew that Kevin was always worth fighting for, no matter how tough it was or how high the odds were stacked against him.

Joaquin dragged his finger gracefully down the mirror, grinning as the condensation disappeared under his touch.

Behind him, Kevin shut off the water and slung a towel lazily over his hips, ruffling his hair in another towel as he approached the mirror ready to wipe the condensation away so that he could style his locks into his signature quiff before it dried into a knotted mess.

Just before Kevin could get his hand on the mirror, Joaquin began writing in the condensation.

The preppy teen stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening and mouth falling open as he watched, letter by letter, a message appear on his mirror that made his heart hammer and his chest, neck and face flush red.

In any normal circumstance Kevin would have been out of that bathroom as quickly as he could, ready to move out and call in professional poltergeist hunters, but suddenly in his mind the pieces began to come together.

Their show, his jacket, the squeezes on his hand and now the message on his mirror that spelt out ‘Preppy’ with a crooked love heart at the end.

It had to be Joaquin.

It just had to be the boy he’d lost all those months ago without a goodbye, the one he’d spent nights tossing and turning about; the one he loved with a fervency that made his heart feel like a hand grenade ready to explode.

“Joaquin?” Kevin asked timidly, looking around the bathroom as the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck prickled.

Joaquin took Kevin’s hand, squeezing it three times to try again to let him know that it was him. Almost instantly a stress rolled off of Kevin’s shoulders, a smile quirking at the end of his lips as his eyes became glassy and his chin began to quiver.

“It’s been you this whole time- you scared me half to death!” A breathless laugh rolled from both boys. Although Kevin couldn’t see Joaquin, he felt whole again for the first time in months, and like for the first time since Joaquin had died, he was Kevin Keller again. “God, I missed you. We never got to say goodbye.”

Joaquin’s gaze dropped to the ground, not finding the strength within him to look at Kevin’s face which was a dichotomous mixture of hope and grief. Sure, he hadn’t intended to just die, but he hadn’t made the effort to connect with Kevin sooner and for that he felt guilty.

With his free hand, Joaquin reached towards the mirror and wrote a simple message to Kevin, telling him that he loved him, before draping his arm around shoulder, pulling him in for a hug.

“And I love you,” Kevin whispered, voice catching in his throat. This was everything Kevin had been secretly wishing would happen deep down. All he’d ever wanted was a goodbye, one more moment with Joaquin, and he never thought it would ever be possible. “I literally can’t even explain how happy I am right now. But, as much as I want you to stay, you need to be at rest- you can’t be here, trapped in this godforsaken town after what it did to you. Please, Joaquin, go and be free, put your soul to rest somewhere. You deserve to be at peace.”

Joaquin smiled sadly, reaching up to wipe Kevin’s tearful face. Letting Joaquin go for a second time was even harder than the first, but they both knew this was the goodbye that would afford both of them a closure that they’d never been able to achieve before.

Joaquin scribbled a quick love heart on the mirror, carefully writing their initials underneath in his best handwriting. Kevin added a smaller heart next to it, a fond smile enveloping his face as he realised what was happening.

“Goodbye, my beautiful ghost boy. I may not see you again in this life, but I hope to see you again in the next.”

[rebellect-writes]

[SIZE=1][b]Name:[/b] Jess. [b]Age:[/b] 21. [b]How did you find us?:[/b] I've had this track on repeat for a long time.

[align=center][IMG]http://i672.photobucket.com/albums/vv90/bloodwillout/thevampirediariess01e11n.gif[/IMG][/align]

[b]Name:[/b] Chase Stirling. Real name's unknown. [b]Nicknames & Aliases:[/b][LIST] [*] Chase. [*] Stirling. [*] Damn, you psychotic bastard. [/LIST][b]Age:[/b] True age, well...about 2630 years old. He's hitting '33' this December though. [b]Date of Birth:[/b] His licenses say December 8, 1978. [b]Gender:[/b] Male. [b]Sexual Orientation:[/b] Pansexual. [b]Availability:[/b] Complicated; Polygamous. [b]Occupation:[/b] Owns and runs the Silver Syn, bit a jack of all trades though.

[b]Species:[/b] Pure black dragon. [b]Element:[/b] Air. [b]Powers:[/b][LIST][i]Primary powers[/i] [b]Dreamscaping:[/b] Chase can produce a dream like ‘environment’ that feels so real to the dreamer that they would never know that they were dreaming. Touch, taste, smell, next to all the senses can be fooled into believing that the dreamscape is actually real, and not something made up. He can craft so fine a dream that he could move through a series of ‘visions’ – for example, from a city park to a beach, to a mountain top – and no one would really notice the difference unless he wanted them to or they were beginning to wake up.

Just because he has powers over dreams, it doesn’t mean he can’t be trapped into a dream by outside forces himself. Sometime he creates the dream scape from scratch, sometimes he’d rather just work with the dream the user is already having and ‘tweak’ it here and there. Sometimes he can take another being into a dreamscape with him, though they have to be pretty close and main contact with him otherwise they'd 'fall out' of the dream and back into reality, taking another person with him into a dreamscape of a third party can leave him sore bone deep, it's why he preferes to go one-on-one, at least he'd have more control over what happened. He's also got to be be caution about dipping into the dreams of the supernatural because there's no telling what could really happen.

While that’s all fine and dandy, he can also manipulate the dreamer into a nightmare scenario where he can torture the dream ‘body’ with all kinds of terrors particular to that person and it won’t affect the physical body. Yet sometimes he can push the power so the physical body believes it’s wounded and reacts in such a way, so if he kills someone in the dream then they’d die in real life because their body would ‘overload’. Doing something like that would and has left him in a catatonic like state for up to a week if it’s a particular long nightmare setting.

[b]Dream suggestions:[/b] In a dream that he hasn’t crafted, Chase can leave a suggestion without next to any trouble. Of course the dreamer can’t be aware of his presence otherwise the suggestion won’t take hold and he’d be left with nothing but a splitting migraine for his troubles. The stronger the suggestion, the more it takes it out of Chase and it can leave him weak for days, and sometimes unconscious. It’s a useful power if he wants to con someone into telling him a long forgotten secret or something similar; it just takes time and patience to peel it away from within the layers of subconscious of safeguarding.

[i]Secondary powers[/i] [b]Air control:[/b] Chase can control the very air you breathe if he wants. Some dragons have the ability to create a flame from nothing or to manipulate flesh and the earth to their whim; he gets to play with the air. Since it’s a secondary power, it’s not something Chase plays around with often but if pushed he can thin the air around people making it harder to breathe or remove it completely. He can even reverse this particular nasty trick so the air expands inside the body forcing the internal system to work over time. This is often used as a quick and crude method of dispatching someone that annoys him, as he can force the internal organs to rupture and burst completely in some cases. It takes extream concentration to do this.

[b]Wind control:[/b] On a whim, Chase can cause a stilted breeze turn into a draft and a draft into a gust and so on until it’s blowing a gale and its best to stay indoors. It doesn’t take that much out of him to do this, but continued use makes him cranky and more inclined to eat people. He could in theory make things worse with this power but he’s never tried. [/LIST][b]Description: [/b] [LIST][URL=http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs44/f/2009/098/d/9/Black_Dragon_by_BenWootten.jpg]He makes a pretty dragon.[/URL] In his dragon form, Chase is a big, black, horned and scaled lizard. Well, alright if you want a little more information than that, here goes. From snout to tail, he’s a whooping twenty-nine feet in length and twenty-one feet standing at the shoulders. His wingspan is roughly thirty foot from tip to tip. Now, his weight is a bit more trickier to get a solid read on, since dragons don’t have any body fat in their natural form, Chase weighs in roughly at four tonnes. [/LIST][b]Hybrid Form:[/b] [LIST][URL=http://images.elfwood.com/art/n/a/nadiasultan/black_dragon.jpg]Here we go.[/URL] He’s a just a little 7 foot tall, and weighs in at around about 500lbs of black scaled muscle with haunting silver blue eyes. [/LIST][b]Status:[/b] Lone black. [b]Mindset:[/b] Dominant. Can be both. [b]Power level:[/b] "Alpha".

[b]Face Claim:[/b] Ian Somerhalder [b]Description:[/b] [IMG]http://i672.photobucket.com/albums/vv90/bloodwillout/app%20pics/936full-ian-somerhalder.png[/IMG][LIST]Standing at 5’10 tall, Chase isn’t the tallest of people around and does he care? No. For his size, he’s built pretty averagely, weighing in at 161lbs. Of course there’s mussels in all the right places and not much in the way of puppy fat on him, so that works in his favour. He’s a blue eyed wondered too, with startling baby blue eyes and mussed up dark brown hair, it’s a wonder to some, how he hasn’t ended up scared. Clean shaven? On occasion, yeah. Chase likes to keep himself semi presentable but that doesn’t stop him from leaving the five o’clock shadow or looking like he’s just crawled out of bed some days.  

Now believe it or not, Chase does like the odd splash of colour in his wardrobe so it’s not all blacks, greys or blues. Hell, it isn’t all leather and jeans either; there are a couple of suits tucked away in there somewhere. Probably still in protective wrapping, but the idea still counts. He can pull a suit off, just like he can pull off the grungy broody bad boy look off, it’s all a matter of what mood he’s in when he throws open those wardrobe doors in the morning. Accessories and jewellery isn’t always a thing he flies with, he has a few rings that he wears on occasion and a necklace but that’s about it.

As for his visible marks, yes, he has a few. We’ll start with the easiest stuff, both his nipples are pierced and he does have his genitals pieced – A prince Albert if you really must know – as well. He’s thought about getting something new done, but he’s leaving that alone for the moment. He does have a [URL=http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs19/f/2007/288/0/5/Dragon_tattoo_by_Tatsu87.jpg]tattoo[/URL], and ironically enough it’s of a tribal dragon on his right hip. Depending on what he wears, you can sometime see it peeking out over the waistband of his pants. On the inside of his left arm, he’s got another [URL=http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv285/weena07/tattoo2.jpg]tattoo[/URL] that translates to “here and now” in Latin. As for scars, yeah, he's got some. Since they don't bother him, they aren't that important in his eyes or they're hardly noticable. [/LIST][b]Special Skills:[/b][LIST] [*] He knows how to use and work with blades, never got around to guns which isn't a shame. [*] Studied different torture techniques since the Dark Ages but he prefers to mix things up. [*] He knows a few forgotten dialects but can speak fluent Latin and Persian, also knows Italian, German, French, Russian and Haitian Creole. [*] He can cook; he just doesn’t do it because he has next to no one to cook for most of the time. [/LIST][b]Personality:[/b][LIST]Chase is, for a lack of a better word, a psychotic dick.

He’s stubborn and likes to do things his own way or no way at all, and he’s impulsive enough that he’ll do things the way he wants them done, and reap the consequences afterwards when he calms down enough to think clearly. Wiley and deceitful. He can be quiet convincing and devious when the need calls for it, and on the other hand he can be very charming, giving off the appearance that butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. It only lasts until he gets something he wants though, goal orientated as he can become if he wants something then he’ll let nothing stop him from having it.

He’s ruthless and often brutal, cruel, he’s also creative and he has poor impulse controls. Couple that with his strong willed nature and sometimes sadistic attitude and you’re asking for trouble. He doesn’t trust people from the get go, it’s almost impossible for him to simply let his guard down around people that don’t know him or vice versa. On saying that though, there are a few people that he can trust with his secrets and at his back, those few people mean the world to him and the trust that he’s shown them took a lot out of him to show. Break it? And he’ll come back at you with a vengeance that would terrify most. He has no qualms about killing someone if it means to protect himself – or people he cares about -, or to send a message to someone else.  

He doesn’t really like people much at all really. The only thing that stops him from killing people around him is that he craves the attention that he can get from them. So it’s more an ‘I’ll put up with you, if you put up with me’ situation. Yet, some people like him and it’s a mystery to him. They must see the chinks in his amour that he doesn’t, because underneath the bluntness and the bravado, he has a heart of gold covered in arsenic. He’s been hurt by people close to him and he’s closed himself off from it ever happening again. He’s literally for over a thousand years slept around killed, played on his impulses and been king of his own little world. That’ll change though, everything changes, and he’s not ready for it despite what he says.

Despite being a dick, he does have a good side that he keeps locked away. Even those close to him would have trouble seeing the cautious and quiet person that he is, seeking approval in his own little way. He has his moments where his actions speak more than his words do, and he’s the type to do anything to come out on top. He's hidden as a dragon for years and will do anything to keep his - and his friends and family - hidden from prying eyes. [/LIST][b]Likes:[/b][LIST] [*] Cherries. [*] Cinnamon. [*] A good alcoholic drink. [*] Working with his hands. Yes, that means clean up as well. [*] Manipulating people to dance like his puppets. [*] Playing games! (Games consoles etc.) [*] A good challenge wouldn't hurt him. He lives for that most days. [*] His dragon form, he doesn't spend enough time in it however. [*] Being warm, you have no idea how much a little warmth can improve the mood. [*] Doing odd jobs for the Unseelie when the need calls for a little outside intervention. [/LIST][b]Dislikes:[/b][LIST] [*] Magical humans unless they're useful to him. Most aren't. [*] People questioning his actions. Where's the mystery in that? [*] Dreaming; don't get him started on how many times his brother's meddled in there. [*] Kids. Period. If he wanted them in his life, he'd have asked for them in his life. [*] The idea of dragon slayers still existing, it sends a chill down his spine. [*] Feeling like hell after using his elemental powers. [*] Being sober; if he's sober someone somewhere at some point will bleed. [*] Being bored out of his mind; he gets destructive [*] Getting ordered to do something; he'll get creative [*] When he's finished a playstation game, he never really wants to play it again. [/LIST][b]Strengths:[/b][LIST] [*] Mostly level headed compared to some dragons he knows. [*] Won't blink or flinch at a threat thrown at him. [*] Not as stupid as he looks most days. [*] The upsides to being a dragon. [/LIST][b]Weaknesses:[/b][LIST] [*] The downsides to being a dragon. [*] Has occasional episodes where he’ll stay as a dragon for days and not care about anything. [*] When he vents, it’s normally in Latin and someone normally dies. [*] Does get territorial over what’s his, some people will notice it and some won’t and he doesn’t care. [/LIST][b]History:[/b][LIST][i](30 years old)[/i]Two thousand six hundred and some change years ago, Chase hatched from an egg on a rocky ledge in the higher peeks of the Dolomite mountains in North East Italy. The mountain range was far from human settlements at the time so the black dragon nesting pairs that had claimed the ranges as theirs for centuries didn’t feel the need to hide what they were. The occasional human hunters that did manage to find their way into the black ‘clan’s’ territory was swiftly taken care of. If you could call torture ‘taking care’ and it just so happened the first human Chase – barely thirty at the time - ever saw was a lowly farmer that had wandered too far into the lowland pastures and had been found by his older nest mate, Lance, much to Chase’s dissatisfaction. Zevran and Leliana were delighted! Their sons hadn’t had the chance to show their worth to them since either of them had hatched, but now they could.  To Chase, the farmer was nothing more than annoyance when it squealed and flailed. He didn’t want to go near it let alone touch it. So he backed out – gracefully in his eyes – much to his brother’s annoyance and disappointment of his elders. Besides, he had other more important things to do like learning how to survive and each lesson that was thrown at him, he did everything possible to come out on top.

[i](330 years old)[/i] The first three hundred years of his life went by with little to remember. The occasional fight between him and Lance was the only thing that kept him from finding some dark corner somewhere to curl up and hibernate from the boredom. That was until he met another dragon roughly the same age as he was. Talbot was a loner, his parents having vanished one day without a trace to leave the youngling to fend for himself and because of that Lance liked to use the other dragon as a toy. Rather than let Lance victimize Talbot, Chase threw himself into the mix. He didn’t have a damn clue why he was doing it, perhaps it was because Talbot had no one in his corner or perhaps he just wanted to dick with his brother. Either way, Lance left limping and Chase had a very confused and angry dragon on his hands. It was only later that he found out why the other dragon was shunned by many of the dragons of the territory. While it may’ve bothered them it didn’t bother Chase one ounce, being a mute to him was kind of cool. It was the oddest match ever but in the following months there was a strong friendship there that was a foreign concept to most of the dragons in the Dolomites.

[i](410 years old)[/i] Chase’s life took a darker turn when his brother all but dragged him to mingle with humans when their settlements started to grow more and threatened to expand into the dragon’s low land home territory. It was curiosity that reluctantly won out, smacking the idea that Zevran would clip their wings or Lelianna would shun them both aside, not even thinking of Talbot shook the silly notion from Chase’s head. Little did he know that Lance was playing him like a fool, and he’d walked willingly into the trap that his brother had set up for him all because his brother wanted to torment Talbot again. When he realized what had happened, it was too late to do anything. He was in the heart of the human’s settlement! There was only one card that he could play, and he did to mixed results. He charmed the wrong female and only found out that she was to be wed when the male came storming into the barn in a rage so fine that Chase could almost taste it. There wasn’t much of a fight after the initial shock had died away Chase dealt with it the way he knew how. He snapped the males neck and before the woman could run away screaming, he broke hers as well before setting the building on fire. The fire quickly spread but it wasn’t something that concerned him as he made his way out of town.

When he returned to the mountains, he was beyond pissed to find that Lance had used the opportunity of his absence to abuse Talbot more. What stopped him from attacking his brother was the fact that humans had somehow managed to trap and kill his mother while the older dragons had gone off to annoy the clan of reds in the far south. Chase was torn between fear and anger. He couldn’t understand why Lance hadn’t tried to help save her. Then again, a part of him knew deep down that Lance favoured the old adage of ‘survival of the fittest’. If Leliana was stupid enough to get caught then kin or not, she was weak and not worth his time, Lance had said as Chase had gone off to see if it was really true with Talbot hot on his heels.

He found the butchering ground easy enough as the dawn came; it was hard to miss it. There was blood everywhere. The carcass – Chase refused to think of it as the wise if stern dragon that had raised him – was in pieces. Her wings lay torn and pegged out across the grass. Her fangs and claws had been removed as well as the luscious midnight black scales that had run the length of her spine and more. Seeing it up close, something snapped inside of Chase, something that even Talbot couldn’t retrieve. Rather than go after the humans that had butchered his mother, Chase flew out to find Lance. It didn’t take him long to find his brother bragging about defeating humans to his father who was more entranced over the story than his missing mate.

Or he was until Chase showed up covered in Leliana’s blood. Zevran tore a strip off both of them for being weak, openly mocked them in front of the gathering dragons. It was one thing to do it in private, but another to do it in front of the others within their ragtag clan. Zevran’s boys showed just how strong they were however. One minute they were cowering like whipped dogs, the next both Chase and Lance were tearing into their father and any other dragon that dared interfere to the point that anyone with any sense cowered and hid. The lucky – if you could call it that – strike that ended their fathers life was an unknown, as both had been going for the kill, both of them claimed the kill. The fight between themselves tore the bloodkin bonds even further apart and before Lance could kill him, Chase fled broken and battered.

He didn’t even let Talbot follow him! He just got the only territory he knew and felt safe in and ended up in Asia. The first thing that he did was find a nice secluded cave where he curled up and pushed himself into hibernation.

[i](710 years old)[/i] When he crawled out of his cave some three hundred years later, Chase was pleased to see that the world had changed more. It was a small disappointment that he wasn’t dead, but whatever! He found himself a nice little village in Indonesia where he spent his time wooing the local women, killing the men that objected and just living. It was as if something had switched off in his mind, he no longer held back like he had done prior to his hibernation period. Eventually when the thrill wore off and he grew bored of the humans, Chase set out to find someone a little more substantial. Talbot. It took him a few years to get a lead on the other male but eventually he found the other black in Russia living with a small group of normad mixed race dragons. Chase didn’t pay the mongrels any mind as he plucked Talbot out of that mire and dragged him off for a little reunion.

Despite the relationship he had with Talbot, the pair of them soon split up again. It just wasn’t in their natures to settle down in one place for one person. With the humans came other interesting things, civilisations died and grew again, but what amused Chase were the ‘others’. Vampires that stalked the night, shapeshifters that hunted when the moon was full as well as the fey folk that meddled. Despite all these new things, Chase still had a habit of falling back into familiar habits over the next two hundred years.

[i](918 years old)[/i] He found a cute little dragon to tangle with in the early 1500’s in the back end of some little county in Europe. Gina was a wild one, and after spending a week having various tumbles with Chase, she vanished. He never once looked for her or cared. If he had known – consciously – that they were going to have a spawn together, he would’ve shown more of an interest.

(944 years old) The summer of 1536 landed him in a small town in Denmark unannounced. He’d been doing a favour for a friend, and one thing lead to another. He’d had too many drinks the night before, insulted the wrong person, and copped a feel of the wrong woman. Silly mistakes really, but typical for him. He was dragged out of the small tavern by human law men, the wench as well, severely hung over and annoyed. When he asked the human law men what the charges where, accusations of witchcraft were thrown in his face. Rather than fight and defend himself; Chase went along with it. A little detour, he’d thought. Right until the moment the magistrate had declared him guilty and he was staked out in a square with other ‘witches’ and set on fire for his supposed crimes. He could’ve ended it at any time, but every time he tried to summon a wisp of air to help, his powers failed him. It could’ve been from the pain his human body was experiencing, but any doubts fled his pained mind when he saw his grinning brother standing at the front of the jeering hollering crowd.

Pain…

That’s the only thing he remembers of that time.

He had somehow torn himself free and shifted scaring everyone – except for Lance – and managed to get himself out of harm’s way into the countryside. Even in dragon form the burns had carried over, and if it hadn’t been for the green dragon to find him then it would’ve died no doubt.

The month the female spent healing him in her caves was one of the oddest of Chase’s life. Mostly he couldn’t understand why she was helping a black dragon! Then again all he knew was pain and the line between mental pain and physical pain was blurred beyond recognition.  

Until one day, fifty six years later the pain went away.

Chase woke alone in the caves to find the green had gone and he was fully healed. He didn’t know that he’d gone into a brief hibernation period until he went out into the world.

The first thing he did when he’d regained enough function to move out of the caves after checking he could still shift and fly, was find a nice stiff drink just so he could feel something. He kept drinking until he’d managed to gain a foothold in the world once more, pushing obstacles out of his way by either ripping them apart or by other means. He’s worked his way from the bottom to the top of his own ladder again, just surviving the best way he knows how and rather than advertise his continued presence to his brother, Chase has laid relatively low in the grand scheme of things, popping up every now and then when a ‘friend’ needs a helping hand.

1932 had him settling in Jackford on the insistence of a fey acquaintance from America. The fey in question had returned to the Sithin that had spawned it so Syn could no longer manage the upscale club that catered to the sins of the flesh. Eighty years on, Chase has managed the club like a pro and still managed to keep things running smoothly when it comes to his other dealings. He even managed to sweet talk Talbot into joining in the ‘relocation thing’ and settling down with him. [/LIST][/SIZE]

[hollandandi]

“you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

——

entry for @underoosbws’s 3k writing challenge!🧠💓

tom or peter

type - mostly angst, some fluff🧠💓

word count - 2.5k

warnings - swearing/language

w/n; sorry I’ve been absent lately! family drama has been in my head! enjoy this! and let me know your thoughts, please!💓

tag-list; @therealme13posts @crxssourbones @space-starz

——

It had been two weeks since the secrets began filling the hallways, and each room of your shared apartment. It soon began infiltrating your phone, messages being deleted shortly after you pressed the send button and saw the ‘delivered’ font appear briefly. You would glance over to the brunette boy who would sit on the couch, zoned into whatever show was playing at the time of the day, before gently tapping details of the plan into your notes section, and sending screenshots to your closest friends to ensure the idea was bulletproof.

You spent your days online. Reading success stories of similar situations, and researching current trends to ensure you were going about it the right way. You would clear your history after any searches, and would log out of Amazon after any purchases. Your laptop went everywhere you did, and your phone suddenly had a passcode on it.

You felt guilty at times; confiding in your best friend over FaceTime on a Thursday night, in a cropped hoodie and pyjama shorts, but when Tom arrived home early one day, and heard you muttering things like “I just don’t know if this a good idea anymore,” and “I feel bad,” followed by you quickly ending the call when you heard his footsteps along the wooden floor of the main hallway, he finally lost it.

“What the hell are you hiding from me?!” He yelled, spitting anger throughout his tone. “I am tired of this, Y/N! You could not be more god damn secretive!” He raised his arms in a mix of exhaustion and frustration, before bringing them back down to his sides in a swift motion. His head shook, making his hair follow, while he looked up to you with dark eyes, that were equal parts hurt as they were mad. You stood there quietly for a few seconds after the latter outburst, and you stepped closer to him in an attempt to reduce the tension between your two bodies, which were simply standing in your shared loosely-lit bedroom. “I’m sorry, Tommy. It’s nothing, I promise. I’m just researching for a school proj-.”

“Bullshit, Y/N! If you want to lie to me, then at-least have some fucking respect, and don’t do it straight to my face.” He almost yelled, but his tone was more controlled now. His voice was laced with pure exasperation as he expressed his final comment, before turning around, shaking his head once more and slamming the door behind him.

By the time you had pulled open the wooden door which physically separated you, though, the front door was closed too. The handle was jittering due to the force he had used to slam it shut, and your face dropped. Your hands shook lightly, as you pulled them up to run through your slightly greasy hair - your gaze not leaving the closed door he had placed between you both. You sighed deeply, hoping he would not be out for long, so you made your shared-bed, turned on the lamp, and stayed up reading a book he had brought you from his last travel. But your initial hope was wrong; Tom didn’t come home that night.

The next day came, which happened to be a Thursday, and it was now the afternoon - but the morning had dragged you slower than you could have ever imagined. You didn’t know when he would be home, and after several morning hours doing unproductive activities, which included six cups of hot tea; you decided to try and at-least get some of your initial plans to progress. You opened your shared wardrobe, before rummaging through the jacket section and pulling out a large plastic box with three letters scribbled on the side. “Tom.”

As you laid all of the contents out on the living room rug, your body in a crossed leg position, you realised the situation was getting hectic. You attempted to continue the work independently at first, but it wasn’t long until you called a familiar face to help you along. To your surprise, Harrison was free. Majority of your thoughts assumed Tom would be with him, drinking an afternoon beer and expressing his irritations he had accumulated lately.

“No - he’s not here. I can definitely come over and help: we only have a few days left so if you need help, I’m there.” He smiled through the phone, before leaving his apartment and arriving at yours in around fifteen minutes. A couple of hours went by - scissors, glitter, glue, paper, sharpies and string were littered over the carpet. You had laid newspaper down, but it didn’t help that much - glitter was always going to end up everywhere. You were on your phone, ensuring people were still okay to join you on Saturday evening, which you received numerous ‘yes’ replies to, making you smile and feel a lot less nervous.

All was content, and as Harrison helped you pack the previous items, along with new creations, into the plastic container that usually lived in the wardrobe, you finalised a few things that were on your mind. And as the snap sound of the container plastic rang through both of your ears, you didn’t manage to hear the normally all-too-familiar car lock from outside the studio apartment.

Tom made his way to the front door, placing his key within the lock compartment before turning it clockwise to produce a faint ‘click’ unlocking noise, and pushing the door open slightly. He expected the sounds of a Netflix show to be ringing through the building, imagining you sitting on the couch, eating popcorn, either crying over a character death, or laughing at a joke. What he didn’t expect, however, was the sounds of his girlfriend and his best friend, laughing lightly and expressing future plans.

“And you’re still free on Saturday night?” You expressed, moving the box to a couch cushion, ready to be placed back in the bedroom once Harrison had left.

“All fine - I can’t wait, if I’m honest. Today has got me really excited.” He grinned, moving his jacket sleeves back down now any glue on his hands and arms had dried.

“Okay, great.” You smiled softly, tucking a piece of loose hair back in your ponytail carefully. “But remember, no telling Tom.” You looked seriously at him, your eyes not leaving his until he nodded and replied. “I know, I know. I won’t - I promise.” He stood up, stretching his legs out as he helped you with any loose rubbish you two had produced.

“Someone want to tell me why the fuck not?” A voice echoed through the hallway, and into the usually happy, laughter-filled living room. You heard the front door shut, along with the sound of a jacket being flung across the stair bannister, before footsteps marched along the wooden floor. “No telling Tom? Are you fucking serious?” He exclaimed, scoffing slightly as he spoke.

“Oh my, Tom, you, you weren’t supposed to hear that.” You stuttered, your eyes slightly wider before as you froze in your tracks, your eyes quickly glancing to the box that was still resting on the grey couch that was centred in the room.

“No shit. Why the fuck would I want to hear my best friend and my girlfriend making fucking secret plans?” He yelled now, looking at Harrison, before his gaze flicked to you, seeing your eyes drop, hurt filling them from his tone of voice.

“Tom, trust me, it’s nothing bad.” Harrison followed, stepping towards him and placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. Tom quickly shrugged it off, pushing it with his rough right hand, before looking at you, seeing you glance to the box again, trying to turn it with your hip so it was less out of sight.

“What the fuck is in there then? Hm? Clearly it’s got your bloody attention more than the current situation!” Tom’s eyes were dark now, more of a black than a brown. His jaw was tight, and veins were pulsing in his neck and arms as he began to storm over to the couch. Your instinct was to move in front of the box, facing him as your put your arms on his chest. You didn’t push him, but it was more of a physical barrier as you attempted to plead, while attempting to diffuse the situation in anyway you could. “Tom, really, it’s nothing. Just some stuff I’ve cleared out, I’m going to throw them away in a minute!” You let out, trying to move your head to stop his line of sight being available on the contents of the transparent box. This quickly frustrated him even more though, if that was even possible, proved by him grabbing your hands from his chest and pushing them down before moving you to the left of him and ripping off the grey, plastic lid.

He had no idea what to expect in the contents. His thoughts had been all over the place in the last twenty-four hours. It began with the cliché; lingerie, photographs, love letters, romantic gifts, all from other people, or simply, another guy. It moved to other ideas, some a lot more far-fetched than others - at one point the idea of you being an assassin popped up in his mind, but he quickly dismissed this, drank more of his beer, and moved onto a more rational idea, like you contemplating on different ways to break up with him. Advice columns on how to make break-ups easy, good lines to use when doing it, what to expect in the aftermath, etc. His eyebrows were raised, and his lip was bit - almost bleeding due to the pressure he was placing on it. His grip on the lid was tight, his knuckles practically bulging from his skin as he inhaled sharply and opened his eyes to see what the last two weeks had bubbled over for.

What he did not expect, though, was a box full of handmade, glittery banners that read expressions such as “Happy Birthday!”, tens of packets of party poppers, hundreds of metres of different colour streamers, too many balloons to count, and small packets of confetti and place-cards with family and friend’s names carefully written onto them. An invitation card laid on-top, one that had “Tom” written on the top row, with a small wink drawn next to it. After the typical line, ‘You are invited to the birthday party of...’, there was a three letter word, revealing the true intentions of his girlfriend in the past weeks. It explained the secrets, the quickly ended phone calls, the secretive texts, the consistent Amazon packages arriving at the door from places such as “PartiesRUs”, and finally, the all-nighters you had pulled throughout the time.

‘You are invited to the birthday party of...you.’

“I told you, you weren’t supposed to hear us.” You sighed, feeling slightly defeated - the cat was out of the bag. He knew, the surprise was gone.

Two months ago, on a Sunday morning, as the morning sun shone brightly through the curtains next to your shared bed, onto the white duvet cover you were both under, Tom expressed to you that he hadn’t had a birthday party in three years. Due to work, the difficulty to get a date everyone was available for, and one year, pure stupidity, the event had been missed. As soon as his confession left his lips, a plan formed in your mind. You checked his calendar app that night, while he was showering, choosing a date he was free and selecting the ‘busy’ option, but left the event blank.

As two weeks passed, secrets were filling the hallways of your apartment, along with his parent’s home, his friend’s homes, his colleagues’ homes and those of your family too. Each room of your shared apartment had hidden compartments, featuring essential additions to the date. Your bathroom had a basket of receipts under the sink, your kitchen had RSVP’d invitations in an blank envelope, pinned to the board next to the fridge, and your bedroom had a plastic container of decorations, some handmade by you and Harrison.

He dropped the invitation gently into the box, before turning around to face the girl he had yelled at two nights in a row. His eyebrows returned to their usual position, and his jaw loosened. His face dropped, his mouth parting slightly as his shoulders slumped. “I’m so,” He expressed slowly, “shit, my love, I’m so sorry.” He softly held your hand, standing close to you, before looking up to his best friend that was also standing beside him.

“Haz, I’m sorry too. My mind - it just, jumped to the worst conclusions.” He sighed, running his free-hand through his hair, as Harrison smiled sympathetically, patting his shoulder. “No hard feelings mate; we were probably a little too secretive. I’ll leave you two it, though.” He smiled at you, receiving a soft, and thankful, one back from you, before he nodded at Tom, and made his way out of the room.

“Love, I really am sorry - I just, my mind started racing; after all the things you were doing, and the call the other night.” His eyes dropped significantly, and you didn’t know whether you saw them water a little bit. “I thought you were planning on leaving me, especially after you were telling people you felt bad.” He sighed, moving his hair from his forehead, pushing it back. “I should have known you were planning something harmless, something thoughtful in-fact, so fucking thoughtful. But I had to come in and start yelling, screaming and just fucking the whole thing up. I can’t believe I’m such a idi-.”

His words were interrupted by your lips on his, pressing gently, with your right hand softly resting against his chest. He leant into the kiss, but didn’t harden it - this kiss was loving, but calm. It was a ‘I forgive you,’ kinda kiss, and it was all that he could hope for. His right hand laid on your hip, with his left cupping your cheek gently as the kiss continued for a few more seconds. As you slowly pried yourself from his lips, a soft smile curled on the corners of your lips once you saw he was grinning slightly, and a sigh of relief emerged from his lips. You gently nudged his shoulder with your fist, shaking your head jokefully before looking up to his gaze again.

“You’re half-forgiven. You’ll get the other half if I’m happy with your fake-surprised face on Saturday.” You laughed lightly, slowly taking the lid from the couch and clipping it back onto the box carefully. “And until then, no freaking out at me.”

“Deal.” He agreed, a smile plastered on his face as you hid the box behind the jackets, closing the wardrobe and walking back into the living room, where your slightly silly boyfriend was still standing.

“Okay, now show me your surprised face.”

“Bloody hell, that is awful, aren’t you supposed to be an actor or something?”

“Fuck off.” He laughed loudly, collaborating with an eruption of giggles from your lips. He may be a complete idiot, but at-least he was yours.

[sinfvldelight]

NAME   —   ASTERION,  "ASTER" SPECIES   —   DEMON / WITCH AGE   —   UNKNOWN,  IMMORTAL SEXUALITY   —   HOMOSEXUAL,  VERSATILE  SWITCH FACE CLAIM     —   TOM HIDDLESTON

EYES   —   VIOLET / BLUE / BLACK HAIR   —   BLONDE / BLACK / DARK PURPLE  HEIGHT   —   6'4"

Asterion was conceived and born in Hell, from another universe. Magic is like breathing for him. It comes naturally, and is needed to survive. If he does not use his magic enough, it will continue to build up into dangerous amounts. Giving him fevers, aches, chills, as well as various other physical/mental pains and complications.

This is the main reason why he can often be seen levitating instead of walking. He cannot fly, but is able to levitate up to 10 feet from the ground, hold positions in mid-air (e.g. sitting, leaning back, laying down, etc.), and leap high/far distances.

He frequently switches between two appearances. His shape shifting is limited to his own body/self, meaning that he can change the colour of his eyes, hair, and wardrobe. As well as the length of his hair. He does not yet have the ability to shape shift into anyone or anything else.

For several decades, Asterion had been unaware that he was a son of Astaroth, one of the many princes of Hell. He was raised as a demon and given no special treatment, since nobody knew where he came from. It was always assumed that he was just another abandoned half-breed, with surprisingly exceptional intelligence and skills. As with most demons that were born, he grew up strong, fierce, hot tempered, and apathetic towards thoughts of family and love. That was, until he reached what humans would call young adulthood. His magic slowly began merging and binding to his health, as well as awakening the soul his mother had given him. Asterion knew that it was possible with half-breeds, but at the time he didn't care. He didn't believe that it would make much difference for him. 

• LEVITATION • TELEPORTATION • SHAPE-SHIFTING • TELEKINESIS • ELEMENTAL  CONJURATION  /  MANIPULATION • PORTAL  CONJURATION  /  MANIPULATION • PHYSICAL  MATTER  CONJURATION  /  MANIPULATION • MAGICAL  SYPHONING  /  ADAPTATION • SPELL  /  POTION  CREATION

[discord-of-laughter]

100 IMPORTANT CHARACTER QUESTIONS: Damian

Thank you so much @myriad-ocs / @myriadimagines for tagging me!!! 💛 

PART 1: THE BASICS

1.      What is your full name?

Damian. I was found wandering the streets close to an orphanage when I was still too young to know my last name… and I reject the last names of my foster parents. So, all there is, is Damian… no middle name, no last name, no birth certificate or birthday.

2.      Where and when were you born?

I suppose I might have answered that already. It’s possible to assume that I might be around 30 years old… but the day I usually celebrate my birthday on is the one I was brought to the orphanage because I don’t know the true year, month or day I was born at.

3.      Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.)

I wonder… but then again, I don’t want to know either. It feels better not to be sure that they were the disappointment I expect.

My foster parents on the other hand… I don’t want anyone to remember their names or to associate them with me. They were scum… leeches… they could cash some money with me, could use me for bait and sympathy… I was a cheap help and bait with big, sad eyes.

They sent me to lure well-meaning people into dark streets… a well-placed hit over the head… sometimes a few kicks too if they felt like it… that’s what they did. Fed themselves on the willingness to help of others… and their wallets. Nearly exclusively themselves though.

I don’t want to know if they had an occupation aside of it or a personality… or family… I don’t want to know anything and all I know is already too much.  

4.      Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like?

I don’t know… maybe. For a few days way back, I felt like I had a brother for a bit more than a week… but that was nothing and means very little… but seeing who I am, my condition, my personality and all. I can only hope that no, I don’t have siblings.

5.      Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people.

I live alone. It’s a small apartment. Nothing fancy but at least towards the yard so it’s kind of quiet. One room for pretty much everything and a bathroom. A big window in the main room, the heater in front of it… I can sit on it while blowing smoke into the cold morning air. It isn’t too rundown. Most of the neighbours work hard. Lots of people from different places I usually avoid most of them in the hallway. But there are three of them I think of a bit differently. One of them sometimes makes me breakfast… and the harsh detective lady let’s me crash on her sofa when things are too shitty.

I have a bed, a sink, a fridge, a microwave, a toaster, a sorry excuse for a wardrobe and a small table for everything… those are the most important things… it’s often kind of darkish in my apartment but I don’t care… it’s good for sleeping in… and cheep enough for someone who earns his money like I do.

6.      What is your occupation?

I’m a… musician? I’d like to be a musician and a singer… I beg for gigs at small pubs… but it barely pays for anything… I’m not shy to take any help that is offered to me… pride is overrated. And I have a bit of money at the bank from a previous job… or was it a job? Because I am definitely skilled and talented in the only thing my foster parents taught me.

7.      Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye colour, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks.

Really? I don’t own a bathroom scales… so whatever. Sometimes I forget to eat, sometimes I’m too drunk to eat… sometimes I gorge myself… I’m comparably lean I think… not much physical activity and a generally considered “unhealthy lifestyle” with little sun might lead to that. And my ashen skin. I suppose there might be a hint of olive under the greyish pale of it but I’m not sure. My race is up for debate as well… something Mediterranean Caucasian probably, generally considered white. Short, black hair, blue eyes… dark rings under my eyes, thin lips but still enough for a sweet kiss. I’m not especially tall either but hadn’t had a chance to get to know my height for a while… and I suppose I forgot about it if I ever knew it.

I like to dress casually, jeans, a t-shirt, sometimes a shirt. Usually combined with sneakers, nothing fancy. A small leathery bracelet on my right arm, on the left a silvery bracelet providing info to medical care personal if needed. I have a bunch of scares… none too big, absolutely none too interesting. I never fought in a war in- or outside the country. I never had a notable medical procedure done to me but accidents, impulsive and reckless behaviour happen… and foster parents.

I don’t have a tattoo either, just a burn scar on my left side… if you have to identify me that is the only thing to go for because otherwise I’m plain, uninteresting. But apparently despite all and my heart condition still interesting enough to attract attention once in a while. Oh… and I have a mole on my left hand. Slightly below where my thumb and my palm connect. A small dark brown dot you can only feel but not see. And a few freckles between my left ear, my hairline and my neck… look closer…. closer… well hello love, are you trying to seduce me? Because if you keep breathing on my neck it will work.

8.      To which social class do you belong?

Lower class probably… maybe not yet… I honestly don’t care as long as I’m alive, getting by and there is music you might as well say I’m scum class and I would just give you the finger.

9.      Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses?

It’s not an allergy but an intolerance they say when a big violet lump forms on my skin when a wasp stings me… but that doesn’t happen too often. I’m usually too afraid and gentle with them… but it’s a hassle when it happens.

And I do have a heart condition… there is a name for it but let me explain it simply instead so that we can move on. My heart more or less beats irregularly, sometimes it stops. It already did two times so far and I’m still here, so that’s the good news. The bad news is that to fix even a part of it costs money – a lot of money. That I obviously don’t have, so I’ll probably live and die with this ol’heart of mine. No excessive physical exercise or it might stop… and so on and so on… all you need to know is that the pump is kind of broken but there still is a lot space for you and some others and a lot of love left. But better don’t go for the deal because death is my eternal companion always peering at me from a distance and waiting for it to happen… wondering if three times really is the charm?

10.  Are you right- or left-handed?

Left-handed.

11.  What does your voice sound like?

Very rough and raspy… kind of lowish I suppose but less when I speak than when I sing.

Here… how about you listen to this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oo-FlLQ6Gls

12.  What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently?

I honestly never though about that. Stuff with a double meaning maybe? Sweet, nice and honeyed phrases to charm someone. Excuse me… maybe? -ish stuff? Stay away… urgh I really don’t know who the hell even cares about that enough to notice it?

13.  What do you have in your pockets?

Keys with a bottle opener attached to it, lighter, cigarettes, comb, mints, some spare money and a pretty old and worn phone I probably had for 5+ years.

14.  Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?

Baby, I’m a walking collecting point for annoying habits. Smoking, drinking, lying, at least two times so far dying. Flirting with women I know are out of my league. Diverting tactics when someone is about to actually get close to me because suddenly all I can think about is… how much it might hurt them if I just die then and there… and I want to die alone… I don’t want anybody to cry because of me… does that count as well?

Other defining characteristics… I can talk myself in and out of nearly everything. When nervous I like to rub one of my bracelets between my thumb and index finger… I put them on before leaving the house because they are my shackles keeping the person I am inside to allow a more society friendly mask to take its place… don’t call me if Trish Talk is on… though I suppose that is kind of obsolete… and don’t expect me to pick up before noon either.

Is hating hospitals a quirk? I have such a hard time standing even entering one… I don’t know something about them just makes me feel death’s hand on my shoulder press down… not really but you get what I mean… right?

 PART 2: GROWING UP

15.  How would you describe your childhood in general?

Wanna take a wild guess? Shitty.

16.  What is your earliest memory?

The cold and mud on my feet… the cold and mud everywhere while I wander dark streets… everything is damp, and the lights are so bright. Dark, dark, light, dark, dark, light… nobody on the street… cold wind howling through the empty streets… a dog barks somewhere.

There is just fragments and feelings left… though. Not the whole picture… it ends there. I don’t remember how I made it to the orphanage… the next thing I remember is hot water in a shower… in an otherwise cold bathroom. And an oldish woman trying to scrub the mud off me… the brush hurt…

The earliest complete memory is from a few days later… singing to the blind and afraid boy until he stopped crying… all while he listened to my heartbeat… going on until he fell asleep. I felt safe and warm… it was so long ago.  

17.  How much schooling have you had?

I suppose I have no kind of degree at all. Sometimes I think it’s a wonder that I can read and write… and know enough math to con people. I don’t really know what kind of education or schooling I received before that night of my first fragmented memory.

The nuns taught me a bit afterwards… but from the moment on I went into my foster parents care that was over. At first, I was still sent to school sporadically, but they soon gave up on that too… and claimed they home-schooled me… claimed being the important word here. Because nothing like that ever really happened. I learned a thing or two from TV shows though… and taught myself to play guitar eventually.

18.  Did you enjoy school?

I don’t think so. Not the few months in my foster parent’s care at least… I enjoyed being taught by the nuns though… but before that… I wish I knew.

19.  Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities?

From them… I did learn stuff on the streets or from TV or because I did my best to teach myself… but most of what I’m able to do… most of what I’m good at… I learned from them and their example… how to lie, steal, hurt, deceive, cheat, defraud, fool and con. But I think I might have just always had a talent to use my words precisely and as my weapon of choice.  

20.  While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them.

I had anti-role models if that counts. People I knew I never wanted to be like… but I never felt compelled to follow the path of some hero either. Or wanting to be like someone I saw on TV or on the streets. I always just wanted to be me… a better me… but that was kind of stupid too I’d say.

21.  While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family?

I hate you… and you should know by now… I got along with those people outsiders would call my family by lowering my head and gaze, keeping my head down and saying nothing that could distract them from their victim or TV show… and before that… who knows and after that… I haven’t had a family since then… and likely never will have one.

22.  As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

I don’t know… someone not like them? Someone not like me? Someone who does the right thing and helps people maybe? Or makes them happy? A musician possibly… or a singer… not like them at the very least.

23.  As a child, what were your favourite activities?

I loved singing… I loved just being able to go outside without being bait… but I also liked the drives to other places before… work. I loved watching TV and when I got the chance to get some sweets to hide in the park and eat them all… music… just listening to new music in the shops that allowed it on and on and on… I suppose I never was very much of an active child and that kept my heart going comparably smoothly for a bunch of years. I also loved to sit outside on the fire escape ladder late at night… watching both the stars and humans… but that isn’t especially active as well.

24.  As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display?

I… don’t know… and I don’t think I care very much… more kindness probably because I felt compelled to comfort Matt back then. But they made sure to knock that out of me… to make me quiet and angry and dreading when they actually took interest into me… which may be one of the reasons I feel so much safer when I know someone won’t actually take interest into me… I suppose before that I was kind of an intelligent child, sympathetic, compassionate… wanting to help maybe? Not too shy either I suppose… but that seems like nothing, but a thin veil of memories left from a past life.

25.  As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like?

Maybe I could have been popular. I kind of felt like I was during the time in the orphanage… but I don’t think those kids were really my friends… except for Matt. And then after he was gone… I don’t know I think I did withdraw myself a bit… and before that could change again there were my foster parents and I did not get to see many kids anymore and honestly, I didn’t want to either… I didn’t want them to learn anything about what was going on… or worse their parents might have ended up being victims of them… I couldn’t risk that.

I suppose that was when I was over and done with being popular… what a shame, especially now when I look back with the guitar in my hand trying to beg for a job or being able to perform at the next bar.

And Matt… Matt was deeply hurt, stubborn, clever, determined… and very, very afraid and weak when I met him… I wanted him to feel better and to be there for him. Because he could be so nice and caring… and he was the only one who knew about my heart before even I did.  

26.  When and with whom was your first kiss?

Some girl… I don’t even remember her name. Not even her hair colour. People place so much value on their first kiss… but I don’t know it was nothing but good fun at best. I think she giggled and her mother nearly had a meltdown – something like this.  

27.  Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity?

No and probably and probably some girl I walked home after meeting her at the bar or wherever… she offered me a coffee… probably… the details are a bit fussy. I just remember making her little sister breakfast the next morning before sneaking out of the house to not get caught by her parents.

28.  Describe any influences in your past that led you to do the things you do today.

You are asking for a long list. All my life lead to this for better or worse and if I tell you of every account that brought me closer to here we’ll still be here tomorrow. Mostly I think I influenced myself… the few people I ever cared about did… losing them did… and my overall shitty childhood. And probably meeting you! Can we move on now?

 PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

29.  What do you consider the most important event of your life so far?

Dying… probably three or more times up until now though I only remember two times. If you let me fall in love with you I might finally be able to change that though… how about it?

30.  Who has had the most influence on you?

Our kind and benevolent saviour in the sky! Or you know… like the people who messed up my childhood… like… I did tell you how many times before now?

Can I ask you something? How important is the past to you? Do you think it is all that defines us? Then what am I to you? Because very obviously it doesn’t matter to you what I did yesterday or today… or how much I tried… because at some point someone had the most influence on me and that is what you are going to ask about! Maybe… just maybe people like Matt, Jess, Bo and the others haven’t had the MOST INFLUENCE on me. But sometimes quality is still worth more than quantity. But I doubt someone who asks 101 questions in one go would understand.

31.  What do you consider your greatest achievement?

Not dying and staying dead yet?

32.  What is your greatest regret?

Not dying yet! No, scratch that. Allowing people close enough again so that my death would hurt them. Because I am a shitty human being like that.

33.  What is the most evil thing you have ever done?

You heard my life story, you tell me. But I think throwing the flowers meant for a very much injured friend in the thrash can because I couldn’t stand hospitals ranges pretty high… right after luring people to be robbed, beaten up and sometimes left to die of course… but you know that’s one of the things I usually did before breakfast though I’m not sure that counts!

34.  Do you have a criminal record of any kind?

Yes – go and request inspection if you want to know more. But know all my friends are well enough aware of it.

35.  When was the time you were the most frightened?

What is fear even? Maybe when I woke up, mud all over, cold and damp, in a place I didn’t know, with no memories and no one to turn to… I think I have never been more frightened than the night my life began… or the part I remember faintly at least.

36.  What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you?

Who knows… I probably have enough drunken slip ups to fill a book. But losing to Jess after challenging her to drink probably is on top of the list. The next thing I remember is being held under the cold spray of water from the shower half-naked… barely kept upright by Malcolm and Bose because they were afraid that I’m about to die of alcohol intoxication… but at least they have never seen Jess so wasted either, so there is a bit of pride about all of this as well.

37.  If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why?

I don’t know… maybe to get hit by a car the first night I remember before reaching the orphanage would be a good change to make? Or to run away during the first days of foster care? Honestly there are a thousand things I would consider.

But in the end, I just want the two of them to be alive. Both of them… because she is the only person I ever met who understands… and he… he’s…

38.  What is your best memory?

It was such a random morning actually… blowing smoke into the cold air outside while the warmth from the heater keeps me warm… there is so much fog and everything is quite… probably a Sunday and holiday… going over to one of my neighbours and having breakfast with him… getting the sign right when asking him to hand me the sugar. Going for a little walk outside and to smoke a cigarette while he goes for a run… talking to another neighbour there… meeting up again later to just sit on Jess’ sofa and listening to music while nothing else happens… nothing… a good day.  

39.  What is your worst memory?

…dying?

 PART 4: BELIEFS & OPINIONS

40.  Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic?

Neither. I suppose I’m just a -mistic person. Expect… but not only the good or only the bad makes life less surprising and less disappointing.

41.  What is your greatest fear?

What is fear even? It is to leave or to be left in pain – emotional, physical, whatever. So… pain.

42.  What are your religious views?

If there is a god, we will never know, and he probably doesn’t care.

43.  What are your political views?

That something is going very wrong right now and no one really wants to change anything for the poor and huddled masses as long as it keeps them from being part of it.

44.  What are your views on sex?

I miss it. The nicest thing two consenting adults can do to and for each other… and nobody’s business but their own.

45.  Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable?

Maybe… but I’m better at dying. And that depends… there is no absolute in something like taking or sparring a life.

46.  In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do?

Risking the life of hundreds and thousands of innocent people and their children for money and getting away with it… genocide, slavery, sex trafficking of children. Honestly, it’s hard to choose the ultimate evil. Especially when some individuals might just come up with a new most evil thing any minute of any day.

47.  Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love?

Do you believe in the existence of fairies, dragons and spinning gold from straw my sweet summer child? See… neither do I.

48.  What do you believe makes a successful life?

How should I know? Obviously I suck at it. But maybe staying true to what you believe in would be a good starting point? And hopefully it is the right time and place for it and the world agrees instead of making you feel guilty… no I honestly don’t know what makes a successful life. You tell me, I apparently need any advice on it I can get.  

49.  How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)?

Hahahaha… you have no idea.

50.  Do you have any biases or prejudices?

Who doesn’t?

51.  Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it?

Give me the right circumstances or reasons and I’d do anything…

52.  Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)?

Considering I did already die for nothing at least twice. Any reason would be a good one… or at least a better one.

 PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS W/OTHERS

53.  In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how?

Trying to keep them at a distance – failing too often in the end. But I don’t think it’s possible to generalise how I treat others… people I don’t know or want to buy groceries from… professional I guess. It’s different for friends of course… but I have a hard time to really… let someone in on things. And whenever I notice too much that I already know them well… that we might be close. I might as well feel the need to get some distance between us… I don’t know I just… I just don’t want anyone to be sad when I’m gone. So for them to not care seems like the best option, even though I suck at keeping to it.

54.  Who is the most important person in your life, and why?

That is… embarrassing. Matt probably… okay? Because he… knew another me, a better me. And in a way inspires me to be… better…

55.  Who is the person you respect the most, and why?

Respect the most? No one… respect at all, a bunch. Nobody is perfect though, quite to the contrary so there is no such thing as respecting someone the most for me.

56.  Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people.

I hope there is nothing like a best friend… maybe Matt comes closest. But it would be hard to tell because, there are also Jess and Bo. And to a bit of a lesser extend Malcolm and Trish. They are a stubborn bunch, but they mean well – all of them in fact. And they bear with me.

57.  Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person.

No, there is no such person and it’s probably for the best.

58.  Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened.

I’d like to think so. But I think the person I would fall for deserves to be given a heart that… is better than mine in pretty much every aspect with the potential to make them happy instead of ensuring tragedy.

59.  What do you look for in a potential lover?

That they only stay for one night?

Actually, I don’t know. Someone better than me, probably out of my league… inspiring me to be a better person maybe? I know it’s not fair to expect anyone to settle for less or settle for me though.

60.  How close are you to your family?

How familist to assume everybody has one!

61.  Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not?

No and no. Because.

62.  Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help?

Jessica probably. She’s seen some shit herself and I guess she would ask the least amount of questions which is probably good. Besides it isn’t like she would close the door in my face. She pretends to be tough but refusing someone really desperate for help isn’t really like her.

63.  Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why?

Matt, Jess and their friends. And the friends of their friends too, all of those ladies are probably better at kicking ass than I’ll ever be. Pretty much everybody actually. I’m not picky if I need someone to protect me. Bo and Malcolm too, I mean I trust them well enough when I’m drunk. But it all depends on the situation, usually there is not really anything I need to be protected from I’d say.  

64.  If you died or went missing, who would miss you?

Hopefully no one…

65.  Who is the person you despise the most, and why?

Narrowing it down to a single person isn’t possible. But there is a bunch of people over whose death I wouldn’t shed a tear.

66.  Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict?

I don’t avoid conflict. If they fucked up they are better ready to hear me tell them so. But I won’t go back and forth with someone forever. Honestly argue isn’t even the right word… I’m not interested in their point if what they did sucked big times.

67.  Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations?

Nah, why should I? Social situations aren’t my thing anyway. But if it’s needed to pull of something I might as well. During a normal day there is no reason for me to take on any kind of leadership anyway.

68.  Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not?

It’s okay. Sometimes it’s needed, and large groups allow for a certain anonymity which can be nice if you want to avoid attentions. I just really don’t care about large groups of people in general.

69.  Do you care what others think of you?

Maybe. But more or less only what a few others think. The whole world in general? Or society? Only if it interferes with or obstructs with what my goal is.

 PART 6: LIKES & DISLIKES

70.  What is/are your favourite hobbies and pastimes?

Music, preferably listening to it with others. Singing. Smoking. Having a drink with a friend or without. The sport course I go to.  

71.  What is your most treasured possession?

My guitar maybe? Actually… probably a memento from my childhood. Nothing special though but from a time where things were… different.

72.  What is your favourite colour?

Red.

73.  What is your favourite food?

Coffee and anything made from liquorice – especially liquor. Oh, and the fried eggs Bo sometimes makes when I’m really badly hungover. I wonder what his secret is.

74.  What, if anything, do you like to read?

Something that makes me feel better? I really liked The Old Man and the Sea by Hemingway for some reasons… probably because there is no bad person in the story and humans are just that – humans.  

75.  What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)?

Movies with friends that aren’t depressing. Even better if they are so bad you can totally slander them. Getting to know knew songs a friend likes. Even or especially when I hate them at first. And I like to listen to the radio because the more trivial shows calm me down.

76.  Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit?

Smoke – yes. Drink – yes. Do drugs – no, never even once in my life. And I can see the surprise on your face, no use in hiding it. It’s because I want to and no, I don’t want to quit and I won’t quit even if you would like me to – thank you very much.

77.  How do you spend a typical Saturday night?

At a bar with a drink or a completely cosy with a bottle while hanging with friends… sometimes alone to relax and forget… just me the radio and a bottle.

78.  What makes you laugh?

Dry jokes, understatements and sarcasm.

79.  What, if anything, shocks or offends you?

When someone mocks people’s needs or what they believe in it offends me. The same is true for people mocking my friends for whatever reason.  

80.  What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself?

Music… or fight the insomnia with alcohol, which I kind of do already and with quite the success as I want to remark.

81.  How do you deal with stress?

Not well. More often then not with a drink or just curling up on the sofa of a friend.

82.  Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan?

Spontaneous mostly – making plans on the long run doesn’t really make sense for someone like me.

83.  What are your pet peeves?

When people I’m on the phone with don’t pay attention but do something else. But also, when people I’m with are constantly on the phone. I guess I just like to have the people’s attention I’m with while I’m with them. And when someone tries to tell me all the things I should probably change… that and to be woken up much too early.

 PART 7: SELF IMAGES & OTHER

84.  Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted?

Sleeping in and sleeping it off. On good days finding something to eat before even getting dressed. On not so good days getting decently enough dressed to walk over to Bo’s apartment and hope he has mercy on me and some breakfast left over.

Then getting some work done, going for a walk, practicing or annoying another one of the unlucky people I call friends. Maybe going to my sport course depending on the day of the week. Then getting home again, listening to the radio and sometimes taking a nap before I leave for the evening again.

Hopefully for a gig in some pub or something alike or to help out a friend or acquaintance with work or whatever else. Getting a few drinks in the end before heading home. With some luck actually making it home and into my own bed… rinse and repeat with smoke breaks in between.

I don’t care about the routine being disrupted most of the time. Sometimes I might even be glad about it… mostly though the routine is fine enough… safe enough.  

85.  What is your greatest strength as a person?

I have nothing to lose and I’m able to get people to trust me easily enough. Or in other words I’m a very good liar, which allows me to clear the path for others or cover their back. Also I’m available most of the time if they should need me at all.

86.  What is your greatest weakness?

My questionable life expectancy? Not letting people close? All my bad habits? Take your pick.

87.  If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

Everything.

88.  Are you generally introverted or extroverted?

Ambivert.

89.  Are you generally organized or messy?

Messy. I leave the cleaning up for tomorrow… if I actually make it that far.

90.  Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at.

Singing, lying, alcohol tolerance.  

Sports, being a good person, getting my life together.

91.  Do you like yourself?

Good question… I suppose so, or I wouldn’t be so scared of actually suddenly being gone one day.

92.  What are your reasons for being a hero? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons…)

I’m not a hero. I’m not even a sidekick. I just… … … want that the hero knows he is needed. That I support him, and his work is appreciated. I think even a hero needs to know that. I don’t think someone like me can suddenly make a change the way they do. But I… I don’t know, I want them to know I have or try to have their back. And my only reason for it is… that I feel like it. No secret second reason. I just think it’s the right thing to do.

93.  What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime?

Surviving for as long as I can would be good and bad enough. But if I can manage to make people I don’t know smile? While I’m here and keep them from crying when I’m suddenly gone I think that would be enough.

94.  Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

Alive hopefully. And otherwise in the same place, with the same people at least… maybe with more people to share my love for music with would be nice. But I’m not picky. And no hope means no danger.

95.  If you could choose, how would you want to die?

Alone in a place where they don’t find me for years to come. Until no one remembers me anymore… so that no one would cry.

96.  If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left.

Every morning is like knowing and not knowing that it might be that last day. But if I knew that I only had 24 hours left… I’d tell everyone that I’m done with them, that I’m done with this city and that I’ll start some kind of business far away from here… and then leave the city to find that place where they don’t find me for years to come. While everyone goes on with their life thinking I’m an asshole but alive in some far away place, doing my own thing.

97.  What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death?

I… don’t know. I don’t want them to remember me but probably being drunk. I hope it’s that, it seems like… such a fair thing to remember me for.

98.  What three words best describe your personality?

Walking, manipulative disaster.

99.   What three words would others probably use to describe you?

That drunk guy.

  100.   If you could, what advice would you, the player, give to your character? (You might even want to speak as if he or she were sitting right here in front of you, and use proper tone so he or she might heed your advice…):

Carry on. Ily Damian. Surprisingly enough many people do. Because you are more honest than you admit. While you try to do the right thing, you are just bad at it… but it doesn’t have to stay that way. There is more hope than you can see right now… and while you are right “no hope means no danger” maybe you need to step out of your comfort zone a bit more… because hope as well as no hope also means so much more.

[daydreamingdorax]

Dora Mallyumkun || Task 03 

Please don't see just a girl caught up in dreams and fantasies. Please see me reaching out for someone I can't see. Take my hand let's see where we wake up tomorrow, best laid plans sometimes are just a one night stand. I'd be damned Cupid's demanding back his arrow, so let's get drunk on our tears. God, tell us the reason youth is wasted on the young

Basic Character Questions

First name? Dora Surname? Mallyumkun Middle names? Tuppence Nicknames? Dor, Mal, munkin Date of birth? February 22nd Age? 23

Physical / Appearance

Height? 5′2 Weight? 110lbs Build? petite Hair color? dirty blonde Hair style? Dora interchanges from wearing her hair down to having it up. She can never really be bother to do anything fancy with it, so just lets it dry naturally into a light wave. If it isn’t down by her sides, its up in a half bun or in two space buns ontop of her head.  Eye color? blue Eye Shape? round eyes Glasses or contact lenses? glasses that she uses for reading or working on a computer, if she can remember where she put them that it. Distinguishing facial features? Dora has very soft almost doe like eyes, which are normally wondering in a day dream. It’s one of the things most people remember about her. Which facial feature is most prominent? Her strong cheek bones and button nose  Which bodily feature is most prominent? Dora is a little pear shaped so her hips and bum are more prominent

Other distinguishing features? Dora has two little freckles under the middle of her eyes. They are quite symmetrical so most think they are drawn on, but they aren’t. Skin? fair pale skin Hands?  Soft, normally with a few small rings on her fingers. Glitter nail polish that is always slightly chipped. Make up? Simple/ what she can put on normally in a rush out the door as she’s running late. With out fail on a daily basis it will be winged eye liner, high lighter (glitter/colour depending on the day), light pink blush and a lip gloss. Though being more creative she likes to experiment with her makeup when she has time. Scars? She has a small scar on the inside of her forearm where she accidentally cut herself with a letter opener at work when she wasn’t paying attention Birthmarks? She has a little birth mark on her hip which to her looks like a very wonky heart or a broken cloud depending on the day. Tattoos? Dora likes the idea of tattoo’s and finds them beautiful on other people but the reality is she is just too cowardly to ever get one herself. She’s used temporary tattoo’s a couple of times, water is always safer than needles. Type of clothes? Dora has a very whimsical style, she loves soft colours and fabrics. The petite blonde also has an eye for pretty things, so is draw to feminine colours such as soft pinks and pastels along with lace. The main fact being she likes to dress for warmth. She gets cold and sleepy alot of the time, so there are normally several layers to her outfit. Normally it’s a long sleeve t-shirt under something and high over the knee socks to keep her warm even in spring going into summer. Her wardrobe is no stranger to over sized jumpers and jumper dressers, things that make her feel like she’s still wearing pjs or a blanket are some of her favourite things. How do they wear their clothes? It depends on the day whether she goes for form fitting or looser. But always with any outfit, there is always some part that she can warm herself in and stay cozy What are their feet like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn, etc) Dora’s favourite type of shoes to wear are mary jane shoes with a chunky heal. She has a few in different colours at the moment her favourite pair are light pink. Normally they are in quite good condition because she normally sticks to pathments and doesn’t get them muddy. But if they did get mud or a scuff, she’d just leave it so it depends on the shoe. Dora is normally wearing high thick socks as her feet get cold. Feet soft and clean as she always wears socks, with slightly chipped glitter nail polish. Mannerisms? When she’s getting anxious, you can find her often tugging on her jumpers sleeves, chewing on her bottom lip. Are they in good health? Dora doesn’t have the best diet in the world, it consists of alot of cereal, finger food like sandwiches, jam on toast, jam sandwiches (basically anything she can put jam on), and a river of tea Do they have any disabilities? Dora suffers with chronic fatigue so can find herself getting exhausted easily