#God invented my eyes for me to see this beautiful artwork
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hello I am obsessed with you and your mind, and I must ask you for recommendations of miraculous comics/fanfics/artist/etc because I trust your opinions and I am in love with you okay thanks
the way this made me laugh SDKLHSLHFW if i was not on my computer right now i would spam with the sparkly eye emoji (pleading emoji? idk what its called but its like O_O but less. creepy. okay im done)
i made this mini rec list a short while ago for some of my favorite fics off the top of my head. i would dig through my bookmarks on ao3, except i made it really recently and i only have like 7. rip
as for fancomics:
@hamsternamedmarinette invented comedy. literally so funny like.... how does her brain work? if you want a good laugh (like a full on belly laugh, wheezing laugh, painful laugh) this is the blog. every comic is just whiplash in the best way
@anna-scribbles draws them so soft???? AGAIN if i could use emojis YOU KNOW THE EMOJI IM TALKING ABOUT.... LIKE THE o_o CUTE ONE? her art is the personification of that. and its also so funny and the punchline always hits just righttt
@zoe-oneesama i think pretty much everyone knows about her Scarlet Lady AU, but just in case you don’t, it’s a reimagining of the show where chloe steals the ladybug miraculous from marinette and becomes a superpowered pain in the butt. it’s,,, so well done and really funny and lots of things that bother me from the show bother the author too so she fixes them LMAO
@buggachat again, i think everyone knows about this blog but just. top tier comedy. such funniness. but also hella angst sometimes. they’ve got a baker enemies AU going on rn and its DELICIOUS. basically hawkmoth has been defeated, everyone knows it was gabriel agreste, and adrien (who was chat noir, but never revealed his identity to mari/LB) is suspected by everyone and ostracized :( this “everyone” is namely MARINETTE who thinks he’s after her bc he found out she’s the guardian and. it is a lot so i won’t try to explain it all but hopefully that gives you the gist of it LOL
@carpisuns was debating whether to put this blog under fancomics or fanart BECAUSE SHE DOES BOTH AND SHE DOES BOTH AT THE SAME TIME AND SHE DOES THEM SO WELL !!!! FULLY COLORED COMICS? SONG LYRIC COMICS?? AND THE FEELS.... the feels hit you hard here. but the fluffy feels too so dw
now FANART
@rosekasa CUTE. SO CUTE. LIKE U JUST WANNA KISS THE ARTS LIKE MWAH they’re so cUUUUTEEEEE her style is like a marshmallow, it’s so fluffy and sweet and. its just so cute oh my god i have no other vocabulary for it
@jjuuppiter artwork? ON POINT. aus? ON POINT. ANIMATIONS? SO ON POINT !!!!! THE ANIMATIONS BLOW ME AWAY you might have seen one where it was like an anime opening as miraculous? like i didnt know the anime but i cant tell you how many times i’ve rewatched that animation BECAUSE IT IS JUST SO COOL. i love it sm its crazy good
@lc-holy this is another one of the fancomic/fanart crosses because ALL HER COMICS ARE COLORED AND SO BEAUTIFUL... i put carpisuns in comics so im putting this blog under fanart, that is the only reason LOL but PLEASE CHECK THIS OUT the work she puts into the comics is amazing and you can just see it ....... so good. such good food
@picayunearts (for some reason tumblr wasnt linking this blog so i manually did it and hopefully i did not mess it up) literally jaw dropping. their use of colors and mood setting is GORGEOUS and as a chicken-scratch artist who never colors i am so envious LMAO. it’s just like... u can just stare it at for at least six minutes straight. at least i did
now for headcanons and stuff (there’s only 2 but i had to mention them)
@gale-gentlepenguin amazing AUs, amazing headcanons, you get the whole package, angst, comedy, fluff, NAME IT. (also amazing april fools jokes LOL)
@sariahsue lots of incorrect quotes!!! was lowkey stalking the blog to see if i could draw any LMAOOO (i think they write fics too, and im pretty sure i have read them before i had an ao3, but because im 99.9% sure and not 100% this is not under fics)
okay this got super long and i just KNOW im missing so many blogs. these are the ones i could think of off the top of my head while im in english class (oops). i will definitely add on more when i remember them, but theres just so much TALENT IN THIS FANDOM this post could be miles long and still not include everyone
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(Perfect artwork for Modern Love, by @cambiodipolvere)
Today is the day of one of my favorite people! And I totally resent @tackytigerfic and Starry for almost sharing the same birthday, god the STRESS 😂 Tacky is my first and closest fandom friend. We clicked together so fast and easy that sometimes it feels like I’ve known her all my life, like we’re two dog moms living in the same neighborhood who happen to read fic in their free time. Despite our conflicting time zones and crazy schedules we manage to chat every other day, tagging and sending each other all kinds of stuff, coming together to cry scream about a brilliant fic we’ve just read or shaking our heads in embarrassment at every other unnecessary bullshit post. Tacky’s bright and wise energy uplifts my spirit even on my moody days, and makes me grateful for her friendship and for this fandom life. Okay so this got long and I had to put the rest under the cut:
It’s such a lovely and precious thing, to have someone with whom you can share every single thought that crosses your mind, your scariest, most embarrassing, petty or disturbing idea, without fear of being shamed or judged by it. I trust Tacky with all my heart to hear me out, share a joke or a piece of advice, even on the (rare) occasions when we don’t get the same perspective - that doesn’t happen often when it comes to Drarry, as we are taste twins!
Tacky my darling, you’re such a good person, and such an incredible friend. Thank you for introducing me to this lovely community, for being my safe haven and your unique self, with so many qualities I admire and feel inspired by: kind, witty, earnest, wise, and so very human. I love your humour and empathy, and your chill yet no-nonsense personality; I love your talent and how articulated you are; I love your passion for Drarry, and how you let this emotion inform the way you navigate the fandom and create for it. And god, but you’ve been creating some of the most beautiful content I’ve seen in these recent years! I’m permanently in awe of your ability to write Drarry in any shape, format or length, transforming even the most ordinary moment into an extraordinary and meaningful piece of character or relationship development. You know how you mentioned yesterday that some authors change the way you feel about a ship in a deep, definitive way? Well, you are that author for me. Your works made me fall in love with M-rated contemplative romance, and also allowed me to fall in love with Harry in a way I never thought it was possible before.
Some people - myself included - got to know you through the fun and intriguing A Lick and a Promise, others through the atmospheric and sensitive Modern Love, others through your contemplative and heartbreaking short form. Each story has its merits and purpose, and all of them share a Tacky trademark: the heartkick factor! Your talent has no limits and goes across different genres and tropes, that you explore with a bold twist full of personality and heart. And even more impressive is your consistency at always raising the bar - every new fic of yours becomes an instant fave and makes me think “wow I thought Tacky couldn’t get better yet here we are”. Seeing how your writing evolves as you find your narrative voice is a beautiful and humbling experience, I feel so lucky!
I’m really grateful for being active in the fandom at this moment in time, because that allows me to read and engage with your brilliant work, and to have you as a dear friend. I can’t wait to see what comes out of your beautiful brain next. It was an impossible job choosing a single fic to rec today, so I decided to do a belated Tacky reclist! Naturally these are my personal and biased must-reads, and I urge everyone to go check these beauties right now. Feel free to include your own favorites too, and don’t forget to leave them some appreciation.
Happy happy birthday my darling Tacky! This fandom life wouldn’t be the same without you. I hope you have the amazing day you deserve!
Between the Power Lines (2020, M, 3.2k)
The road trip fic you didn’t know you needed. I got utterly immersed in the heartbreaking quietness of this, feeling like a witness to an ordinary yet poignant love story. Such tender intimacy, such character development, such lovely American aesthetics with barely any dialogue. This is, IMO, the fic that reveals Tacky’s triumph in storytelling.
Even the Night (2020, M, 3.4k)
This fic has a surreal atmosphere, those Midsummer vibes unbelievably sexy and intoxicating linked to the sensorial experience of fumbling together in the night. Masterclass in tension building, a silky and languid dream-like affair.
Aim for my Heart (2021, M, 3.4k) - Harry/Draco/Ron
One of the most sensitive and stunning portraits I’ve ever seen of a poly/triad relationship, this fic packs so much character and longing! It’s a privilege to watch Ron and Draco’s tentative dynamics through the smitten eyes of the one person that loves them like no one else: Harry.
The Long Fall (2021, M, 3.6k)
I can’t even write about this tender domesticity without getting a lump in my throat. Best opening scene I’ve read in years, and a refreshing way to approach both mpreg and parenthood, painfully honest and lovely. This became an immediate comfort read for me, and it’s probably one of the fics I revisit the most.
Mortal Frame (2021, M, 6.6k)
This thrilling, fast-paced spy story left me breathless since the first paragraph, gods what an immersive ride! I’m so here for Drarry on the run, sharp and urgent with danger but mellowed by the silent trust and tender intimacy only Tacky can master. Major bonus points for the brilliant take on the Horcrux hunt plot line!
Last Offices (2020, M, 6.7k)
Oh, this fic 💔 I tend to avoid MCD but there’s something so deeply fascinating about body washing rituals that I caught myself mesmerized by this. I just couldn’t put it down, so emotionally compromised I felt. There’s a sort of strange comfort in the heartbreak of doing one last act of service out of devotion to someone. This fic inspired so many difficult but lovely feelings in me, and one of them was hope. Only Tacky could possibly achieve that!
Our Little Life (2020, M, 7.2k)
Inventive and singular, this story hit me straight on the solar plexus and left me speechless as I saw the (clever, magical and bittersweet) plot unravel. Such a fabulous take on alternate universes and all the angst potential behind it. Come and bask in the yearning melancholia of a short yet intricate and perfectly executed plot.
And One to Play (2019, E, 21k)
What a fun and delightful fic, I can’t have enough of pining Harry losing all sense of propriety when faced with a hot, competent and pragmatic Draco. This has fab dynamics, unhinged protectiveness, even more unhinged attraction between two idiots who can’t keep their hands off each other. A must-read for any Auror partners fan!
A Lick and a Promise (2019, E, 55k)
Hot, BAMF Professors carefully balancing a fuck buddies situation while solving a Hogwarts mystery, do we need anything else? I certainly do not. This fic is so fun and intriguing and immersive, with amazing supportive cast and a delicious get together feat secret shagging and oblivious pining. Love it!
Modern Love (2020, E, 61k)
My favorite read of 2020, this fic is a love letter to Drarry and will always hold a piece of my soul. Sensitive, wistful, tenderly aching and so very romantic, this is a Muggle Draco triumph with a superb Harry, exquisite slow burn and a side of suds comfort. I promise it will be impossible to listen to Bowie again without thinking of this love story.
Bonus: five stunning drabbles!
Something in the Way (2021, T, 119 words)
“Up,” he said, and Draco, sick with love, raised his arms above his head and allowed Potter to slide the jumper on him, big hands stroking it flat over Draco’s stomach until they both shivered.
Stir-Up Sunday (2020, M, 300 words)
“I want you always,” he said, tugging again on the fine curling length of it. “Is it okay to say that?”
Whalebone Arch (2021, M, 722 words)
“Are you still not talking to me?” Draco steered Harry towards the crisps. “Do I have to suck you off in the loo to cheer you up?”
Semiplume (2021, T, 923 words)
“Did you know,” Harry murmured, and he put his arms around Draco, fearless. “I’d be your mate. If you needed a mate, I mean.”
Relic Radiation (2021, M, 927 words)
“You’ll kill me,” Harry said, and Draco turned his face towards the darkened sky, lunar pale, his profile some stupid unearthly thing—a flaring blazar, a supernova—in the light from the kitchen window.
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Happy Anniversary
look, we all need lawyer harry in our lives. and we need to shag him in his office at least once. this piece is a mix of pure filth in his office and cute dad harry moments with his little girl at home. anywaay i’ll just shut up now. hope you lot like it! xx
[4k]
Balancing two cups of coffee and a yellow folder in your hands, you stride off the lift and onto the 30th floor of your building. Your own office is just two floors below on the 28th, but you have a meeting scheduled on this floor in about twenty five minutes and you thought it would be nice to surprise your husband before you head to the conference room together. To maintain your professional image at work, both of you don’t make it a habit to pop into each other’s office even though you work in the same building unless it’s absolutely necessary, but today you thought you’d make an exception since it’s your anniversary after all. And you sure he wouldn’t mind.
Hell, you know he’d be elated.
You gracefully navigate through a sea of cubicles, stopping for a second here and there to greet back some of your colleagues as you make your way to Harry’s office in the corner. He got the corner office a little over two years ago after he got full equity partnership, and God, you love Harry’s office. There’s not much of a difference regarding the interior with yours, but the view is ten times more spectacular.
You stop as you hear your name being called, and as you glance to your right, you see his secretary smiling at you. “Hi! Happy anniversary!”
“Thanks Claire,” you smile back at her. “Is Harry in?”
She nods. “He’s got a conference call earlier but I think he’s done now.”
“I’ll be quiet just in case then,” you reply, walking past her. “See you!”
You shut the door with care and slowly turn the lock as you enter Harry’s office. You can see that he’s frowning ahead in that silent way he gets when his brain is dealing with some huge, knotty problem, but as he looks up from his computer and sees you, the frown immediately turns into a grin. “Hi wifey.”
“Hey,” you feel a pleased little smile coming to your lips as you creep along the edge of his desk until you’re in front of him, turning around for a second to set the cups of coffee and your folder on the table. “Got you some coffee, thought you’d need it.”
“Thank you my love,” he reaches out, curling both of his hands around your hips. When he looks up at you, he’s smirking. “I think we both do.”
His eyes are sparkling as he licks his lips, scanning the length of your body. Without a doubt reminiscing last night after you tucked your little girl in bed and had a little pre-anniversary celebration right there on your kitchen island.
It still gives you jolt sometimes, the way he’s looking at you, as if he’s looking at a breathtaking piece of artwork. You feel like you’ll never get used to it even after four years of marriage and two years of being together prior to that. It never fails to make your heart skip a beat every single bloody time.
It’s not much help, the fact that he’s in a suit. You see him in a suit every day yet it never gets old. Whoever invented the phrase ‘a man in a suit is to a woman what a woman in lingerie is to a man’ is brilliant and you can’t agree more with them. Your favourite piece of clothing on him is a long sleeved button-up shirt, and you’re pretty sure it has something to do with your attraction to your husband’s shoulders. There’s just something with the way they look when he’s taking it off — and how much you enjoy unbuttoning it. And when you layer a coat on top of that, it’s like getting to enjoy it twice. Like a very beautifully wrapped gift that you just can’t wait to rip open.
You choose his left thigh to sit on, the one with a tiger tattoo hidden underneath his black trousers. Your favourite thigh. His face is only inches away from yours, you can just smell the scent of his Armani aftershave and hear the crisp cotton rustle of his shirt as he moves.
“Happy anniversary,” he mumbles against your cheek. His lips warm against your skin, and you can feel he’s smiling as he layers kisses down your jawline.
“Four years,” you turn your head to have a proper look at his face when he’s done doting on your face. Your fingers dance along his jawline this time, before sliding back into his hair. He lets out a happy sigh when you rub his scalp, leaning closer to lock your mouths in a sweet, light kiss.
“Don’t chuck me just yet,” he jokes, and you can feel the words said against your lips at the same time as you hear them.
You give him another quick kiss, giggling as you pull away. “Don’t worry,” you shake your head. “Not for another fifty years.”
“Make it seventy, will ya?” A sly smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“Sixty five,” you deadpan. “Give or take.”
He’s chuckling as he lets one of his palms slide up your leg, the other running down your back, stopping just above your arse. His grins widen when he doesn’t feel anything else beside your work dress covering them. “You’re not wearing anything under this?”
“Not a stitch,” you murmur.
“Fuck,” he breathes heavily just inches away from your ear, sending a ticklish sort of shiver through your whole body. “We’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes.”
“We can do the whole ‘make love and explore each other’s bodies’ thing later tonight,” you shoot him a smirk as your hands wander south to undo his belt buckle, turning around to straddle him and letting him pull your dress up until it’s bunched around your hips. “Now you just have to quickly shag the hell out of me.”
Harry growls in your ear as you unzip his trousers and reach inside, feeling him go from interested to rock hard within seconds, and the sound of it makes your core flex around nothing. He adjusts himself in his chair, pulling down his boxers just enough to get his cock out before he settles back, giving the full control to you.
You hold onto his shoulder with one hand and lift your hips, not wasting another minute before you let him in with a quiet moan. He’s nibbling your bottom lip before tracing it with his tongue.
“Fuck, love,” Harry swallows every small sound that you breathe, crafting them into a low, desperate moan that rumbles from his chest. “So bloody wet f’me.”
“Been thinking about you all morning,” you whisper in his ear, your voice as seductive as he’d ever heard, making him growl and shift his hips upward.
You lean back with your elbows on the edge of his desk, letting him have a better view of where he disappears so deep inside of you, filling you nearly past your limit.
“I love you,” he groans softly, biting his bottom lip as he brings his thumb where you need it the most, pressing down in small circles.
“Oh, fuck,” you moan, one of your elbows slipping off his desk but he is quick to catch you. You’re about to protest when he moves his hand up instead, his fingers digging into your hips, but the feeling of him basically shoving you down onto his cock definitely making up the loss.
He lifts you up without warning before setting you down on top of the scattered draft contracts and financial reports on his desk. He is far from gentle, every thrust sending you further and further across his desk that he needs to pull you back. Every drag of his cock out of your sensitive core sends delightful shivers of euphoria racing through you.
You desperately try to find something, anything, to hold onto. His arms, his shoulders, finally settling with hair as you pull him down by his tie closer to you. With a gasp of his name, you fall into bliss. Your eyes closed as he kisses you intensely, breathing against you deeply as he lets go of himself, spilling all he’s got into you.
He chuckles against your jaw as you both try to even your breath, giving you one last kiss. He pulls out and quickly reaches out for tissues to clean you properly before wiping himself and tucking his dick back into his trousers.
He gives you a moment to come down your high, certainly not complaining about the view of you laying on top of his desk with your dress still bunched up around your hips. There’s no way he can look at his desk the same again.
He reaches out to help you to sit up, stealing another kiss or two as you try to stand. Your legs are quivering and his lips quirk into a gentle smirk. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” you nod as you adjust your dress and fix your hair. “How do I look?”
“Freshly fucked,” he teases you, but hastily amends himself when you look like you’ve seen a ghost. “I’m joking, I’m joking. You look amazing as always, my love.”
“Oh shit,” you mutter as you glance towards the clock. You quickly grab your yellow folder and your cup of coffee and head towards the door. “We need to go. The SC and HSBC people and the insurer must already be in the conference room by now.”
“Wait,” Harry suddenly stops you as you walk towards the door. Pulling you close, his eyes fixed on yours before he leans even closer, giving you a wink before he whispers, “you’re the best fuck I’ve ever had. Happy anniversary.”
***
“Mummy!”
You’re smiling through the mirror on your dressing table at the reflection of your two and a half year old peeking her head into your room. She’s wearing an adorable pink smocked dress with the cutest fabric bow at the back and she’s clutching a painting she must’ve just done.
“Hi poppet,” you turn around to smile at her, opening your arms to sweep her into a hug.
“Mummy, look!” She proudly shows her painting. “It’s a pish!”
She still can’t say ‘f’ so she always pronounces ‘p’ instead, and both you and Harry can’t get enough of her baby talk. She grows way too fast but the way she talks reminds you that she’s still pretty much your baby. And you love it.
“Wow,” you gasp admiringly. “That’s a beautiful fish, my love. Shall we put it on the fridge later?”
“Uh-uh,” she nods as she climbs onto your bed. When you’re sure she doesn’t need your help climbing up, you turn your attention back to the mirror and continue with your makeup.
“Where’s daddy?” You ask her, glancing towards your bed where she is sat before you do your eyebrows.
She shrugs casually. “Seepin?”
Honestly, she is so petty. You wonder where she gets that from. Now every time you ask her about Harry she’ll say that he’s sleeping. It all started the other day when Harry was putting her to sleep. Minnie was telling him about her day but Harry was so tired that he fell asleep on her bed in the middle of the story. And you can’t really blame Harry because as much as you love your daughter, you know she sucks at telling stories. It takes ages and there are so many times where you smile at her but actually all you want to do is to yell ‘GET! TO! THE! BLOODY! POINT!’ (but of course you don’t do that, that’ll make you a terrible parent).
You laugh and shake your head. “No he’s not.”
You barely finished your sentence when Harry walks into your room. He’s changed out of his work suit and into his fancy one. It’s slate gray from Prada, with an unbuttoned black shirt underneath (that you’ll definitely ask him to button them up later just so you can unbutton it for your pleasure). He looks so dashing that you can’t help but stare through your dressing table mirror.
“There you are,” he strides to the bed before plopping himself down to sit beside Minnie. “Turned my back for a second and you already ran off.”
Minnie giggles as Harry attacks her with tickles. “Daddy!”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Harry suddenly stands up, walking towards his wardrobe and takes out a wrapped box before walking back towards you. He’s smiling sheepishly. “I know we said no gifts, but I can’t resist.”
You roll your eyes comically. “I knew it.”
“Open it,” he hands you the box, before leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Happy anniversary.”
You can’t believe your eyes when you open it. It’s a black Alexander McQueen dress. The black Alexander McQueen dress. The one that you’d been saving for and promised yourself that you’d get it as a reward after you’re done with the big case at work that you're currently working with Harry, because it’s the biggest case you’ve ever had, and it’s just so stressful that the idea of a reward is basically the only thing that keeps you going.
“Harry,” you look at him, dumbfounded.
“Thought you’d like it,” he smiles at you as he sits back down on the bed, and Minnie quickly sits on his lap.
“I don’t know what to say. I mean… how-”
“Darling, you’ve been looking at that dress on the iPad before bed every night this past month,” he chuckles. “Hope you like it?”
“Of course I like it!” You grin. “I love it! Now, I knew you would get me something anyway even though we clearly said no gifts, so I got you something as well.”
You head to your wardrobe and rifles at the back behind your shoes. As you turn, you’re holding the wrapped present and you hand it to Harry.
“You shouldn’t have, darling,” he shakes his head, smiling at you. “But thank you.”
“Open it, daddy!” Minnie exclaims excitedly and Harry nods.
He sets it down on the carpet and carefully opens the wrapping paper. “A suit carrier!”
“Now it’s not as fancy as the dress, but I know you need a new suit carrier. You’ve got your old one for ages.”
Harry buttons your lips together for a proper kiss, earning a shriek of “eeew!” from Minnie as she closes her eyes with both of her dimply baby hands, and you both can’t help but laugh.
“M’gonna get you!” Harry playfully growls and catches her into his arm before she gets the chance to run away, kissing her little face over and over. It’s the sweetest sight and seeing them together always makes you more broody than you already are.
“Daddy, stop!” She giggles as she tries to hide her face from Harry who is now trying to blow raspberries on her cheek.
You take the dress that you were going to wear back into your wardrobe and pull out your new dress from the box instead. And as you slip into your brand new dress, both your husband and your daughter are looking at you like you hung the moon.
“Wow!” Minnie gasps. “Beautiful, mummy!”
You smile sheepishly. “Thank you, my love.”
“Mummy’s hot isn’t she, Min?” Harry nudges Minnie gently, tilting his head towards you.
“No!” Minnie frowns. “Mummy’s not hot. She’s warm. Mummy gives warm hugs,” she enunciates carefully.
Both you and Harry are dying with laughter. “You’re right, you’re right,” Harry hastily amends. “Mummy’s warm. Sorry.”
You check yourself once again in the mirror and you finally put on your lipstick, before quickly realising that you’ve made a mistake. Minnie has been obsessed with your lipsticks these days that you can’t put it on without her asking to do the same.
“Mummy!” She yells in delight as she spots the lipstick. “Miiiine!”
“Minnie,” Harry turns to her, scolding her gently. “We don’t say ‘mine’. What do we say?”
“Please mummy?” She looks at you with puppy dog eyes. “I do it, please?”
You just can’t say no to your little girl. So all you can do is just sigh and sit her down on the dressing table, helping her to put on the lipstick. When you’re done, she gasps admiringly at her own reflection in the mirror and you can’t help but chuckle.
“Beautiful!” She exclaims. “Like mummy!”
“You are, my darling,” Harry walks towards the dressing table and stands behind Minnie, squeezing her from behind and kissing her on the cheek. “Just like mummy. Gonna be a little heartbreaker, aren’t you?”
Minnie lets out another fit of giggles as Harry blows raspberries on her neck. And Harry’s about to give her another kisses attack to her cheeks when suddenly the doorbell rings and Minnie’s eyes light up. “Auntie Gem!”
“Shall we go and say hello?”
***
Harry is taking you to Wolseley in Mayfair, one of your favourite restaurants which also happens to be the place where you went on your first date. Technically it wasn’t a date, it was supposed to be a dinner meeting with some other people from the firm who were working on the same case with you and Harry, but one of them was stuck somewhere dealing with an even bigger case, and the other one had to go home for family emergency, so that left only you and Harry to deal with it.
You’re looking at your husband in front of you as you take a sip of your champagne. He’s clearly trying to ignore his phone, but after the 10th time it vibrates, he gives up.
“It’s Halford isn’t it?” You ask him, guessing the person who’s been texting him for the past hour.
He nods, taking a gulp of his champagne before finally setting his phone down. “What?” He’s gazing at you, a quizzical expression on his face.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You still think they need to go with the merger,” he accuses.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to, it’s written all over your face.”
“Fine,” you give up. “Since you insist, I still stand by my opinion. There’s no way out of it. They need to accept HSBC’s offer to merge.”
“Are you insane?” He looks at you in disbelief. “There’s no way Standard Chartered people would accept that. Halford would never say yes to that!”
“Harry, SC is going bust,” you retort. “They’ve been in denial long enough, don’t you think?”
Much to your surprise, he suddenly smiles.
“What?” You look at him in annoyance.
“I’ve missed this,” he’s hiding behind his champagne flute but you still see him smiling. “
This time you give him a quizzical look. “What?”
“This,” he makes elaborate gestures with his champagne flute before taking another gulp. “Working on the same case together. Reminds me of the good ol days, you know?”
Of course you know. That was how you met, in a conference room (in fact, it was that very conference room you both went to earlier today), working on a case together. You didn’t particularly get along well in the beginning, and that’s just to put it nicely.
“Darling, I love you,” you begin. “But I don’t really like working with you.”
He laughs. “Oh come on, I’m not that bad!”
“Minnie is the only case that I actually enjoy working with you.” You roll your eyes comically and Harry can’t help but snort.
“Speaking about that kind of case,” he clears his throat before he begins. “I know it’s been perfect. You, me, our… case. But, I s’ppose we could, um, try for another case now?”
“Harry,” you reach across the table to squeeze his hand. “I’d love to have another… case. But,”
“Oh.”
“No, listen to me,” he breaks off into silence and you feel terrible at how hurt he sounds. “I’d love to have another baby, believe me I do, I really do. But right now we’re both just so caught up with work that we barely even see Minnie. I want us to try and learn how to have a better work-leisure balance before we go through that again.”
You sigh in relief when he finally smiles at you. “I understand.”
“Christmas,” you say out of the blue and Harry looks at you in confusion. “Christmas. Let’s try for another around Christmas. Which gives us around six months to figure this work-leisure thingy. That’s enough time don’t you think? Or when we’re done with this Standard Chartered case. Whichever comes first.”
“Darling, there’s no need to rush,” he assures you. “Honest. I’m ready when you are.”
“Actually there is,” you joke. “I’ve still got some vouchers for Mothercare that’ll expire by December next year.”
He chuckles. “So I’ve got to knock you up by March the latest?”
“No, February,” you reply and Harry appears a bit bemused. “Minnie was born way past her due date and I’m almost sure this one will come late too. We need it to be born before December, because- what?”
“Nothing,” Harry grins wider. “It’s just crazy, you know. Us. This. If someone came to this very table back then and told us that in six years we’d come back here to celebrate our four years wedding anniversary and talk about having a second baby…”
“Oh my god, I’d be livid,” you can’t help but laugh. “God, I hated you back then. I thought you were the most arrogant bastard I’d ever met.”
“Look at us now,” he makes another elaborate gesture with his champagne flute. Clearly making reference to that Paul Rudd meme.
“Who would’ve thought?” You laugh, playing along.
***
It turns out that Harry has another surprise for you.
After dinner, instead of driving back to your home in Kensington, he drives you both to Covent Garden instead. Turns out he’s booked a room in Rosewood for the night, and he didn’t want to say anything because he was sure you would say no. And he’s not wrong. You’ve never been away from Minnie overnight ever since she was born, and you would definitely overthink it and ended up saying no.
God, you love your husband.
The suite is amazing. It has panelled walls and plush sofas and a massive bed that looks insanely cosy. Now that you’re here, you’re fully convinced that it is not a crime to have a night off, and that Minnie will be just fine. In fact, you’re almost sure that she’s having a better time with Gemma than she is if you and Harry had stayed home. Gemma adores Minnie and Minnie is obsessed with her.
Harry hands you a glass of wine as he kisses your neck lingeringly. “The bath is ready.”
“You’ve got a text,” you murmur, tilting your head towards the coffee table where his phone is.
“Don’t care.”
“No, you do,” you insist. “Just look at it.”
He rolls his eyes but he listens to you and walks towards the coffee table. He grabs his phone, taking a second to read before he looks at you in astonishment.
“Oh my god.”
“What?” You play it cool, trying not to smile because actually you’ve read the notification about three minutes ago.
“Look,” he says, showing his phone to you.
Halford (Standard Chartered)
Harry, we’ve had our internal meeting and we’ve come to a decision to proceed with the merger.
You grin. “I don’t like to say I told you so.”
“You fucking love to say that,” he’s beaming at you. “Sweetheart, I know you said we can try when this case is over, and it is now. But just so you know I’m happy to wait til Christmas before we try too. There’s no rush.”
“Just shut up and put a baby in me, Styles.”
#harry#harry styles#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#harry styles one shot#harry styles fic#harry styles ff#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#dad!harry#dad harry styles#dad harry imagines#lawyer!harry#harry styles blurbs#harry styles drabbles#harry styles fanfics#harry talk
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aw, yay prompts! Star Wars/Rogue One - Luke/Bodhi and summer hook up AU or urban street magic AU. Or Jannah/Rose - Heist AU. Or Rivers of London - anything with Molly for that food truck AU. Definitely just pick and choose as interested, or I can send these as separate asks, lol
Star Wars - summer hookup & urban street magic AU
Bodhi ducked down another alleyway, pulled off his hoodie and tossed it in a convenient bin. Then he took a deep breath and turned around, hands in pockets, trying to look casual. It probably wouldn't work. yn had been trying to teach him about sneaking around — "it's called spycraft," she'd sigh at him — but Bodhi couldn't ever shake the feeling that he was always himself, no matter who he was pretending to be.
Sure enough, he turned right out of the alley and ran smack into the someone.
"You all right?" said the voice, concerned and warm and — familiar, but who the hells did he know in this godsforsaken city? Other than the Jedi, who hopefully was still back at the square with his thumb up his arse.
Bodhi looked up into the face of — "Luke," he said, his face going hot and gods, this is why he shouldn't be given any kind of responsibilities! He was good at Imbuing, not Wayfinding; although maybe this was an aspect of his abilities, that ensured he'd escape the Jedi but get caught by the one person he'd like to see even less.
Though that wasn't accurate, really, it was more that he didn't think Luke wanted to see him, after that night last summer and waking up the next morning to an empty bed and—
Bodhi was still mid-spiral when he caught sight of the rest of Luke's getup — a black cape and black suit underneath, one hand loosely cradling a saber.
Luke's eyes were wide and blue and still just as beautiful as Bodhi remembered. "Oh, shit," Luke said. "You're the Rogue?"
"You're the Jedi!" Bodhi protested, but even while his inner Jyn was screaming at him to run or kick Luke in the balls or pull that stupid cape over his head, he could feel himself starting to smile.
Because Luke was beaming at him, radiant as the sun. "Well," he said, tossing his straw-blonde hair out of his face, "I had to get your attention somehow."
Star Wars - Heist AU
"Please put your heads on your hand," said Rose, trying for "calm and authoritative." She might have even hit it.
The woman opened her mouth, then closed it again. "You mean my hands on my head?" she offered, and demonstrated.
"Right, yeah, sorry. This is my first day," Rose said, which probably wasn't the right thing to tell a robber? But also she could hear Finn in her earpiece telling her that he was thirty seconds away and also that she was doing great, which was reassuring, even if the woman in front of her was still holding the...whatever she was holding. "Um, actually if you want to put the thingy down on the floor, that would probably be good," she added.
"Oh god," she thought she heard Finn mutter, as he put on an extra burst of speed.
"The thingy," said the woman, sounding a little offended. "Honestly, if you can't even—"
Just then another woman, white with her hair up in odd little pigtails, came careening into the room. "Let's go!" she yelled without slowing down.
"Catch," said the first woman, throwing the thingy at her.
It was gold and kind of heavy, and Rose dropped it immediately, but they were already gone. "Well, fudge."
Finn's footsteps echoed in the hallway and he burst into the room, holding a taser in one hand and a flashlight in the other. "You okay?" he asked, breathing hard.
"They got away," she said. "Um, I don't know if they were really trying to steal—"
Just then the police started turning up, and the fire department, and all in all it was almost an hour later when Rose was shown the thing that the woman threw at her, now safely ensconced in an evidence bag. "It's a — oh shit," she said.
The detective, some old guy with an accent that might have been Midwestern or might have been just lazy, gave her a slight smile. "Yeah, it's oh shit all right," he agreed. "And guess what else they left behind."
The next morning, Finn came in with an actual physical copy of the Boston Globe; there on the front page was the two of them and Director Organa at the impromptu press conference in front of the museum. Underneath the photo was an array of each returned art piece, or at least pictures of what they'd looked like before. Rose had seen some of the rolled-up paintings and knew it would be months, if not years, before any of them were ready to be displayed again.
"We look good, though," she said, and Finn handed her some copies of the paper so she could send them to her sister and parents.
The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum Return Heist was the subject of months of news stories, three documentaries, and a Netflix miniseries, but it wasn't until almost five years later, when Rose matched with a beautiful woman who liked crossword puzzles and base jumping on Nerdster, that they had the first indication of who exactly had brought the artwork back.
Rivers of London - food truck AU
They always came at dusk, the two of them looking like something out of a supernatural anime about demonic domestic staff. They systematically worked their way through the entire menu, which took them about two weeks, and if the rumours were right, then they'd bugger off.
The food truck community, insofar as there is one in London, operates mostly through mutual follows on social media, uneasy alliances at the various festivals and fairs that require our services, and ruthless undercutting when it comes to the best spots in the City to ply our wares during the lunchtime rush. But word gets around about certain customers, and it went around like wildfire about these two. They always paid cash, tipped lavishly, and only the man ate, but the woman would sit or stand next to him with a notepad, scribbling furiously as he quietly talked to her — describing the food, maybe, or plotting world domination. It was generally understood that they were a pair of stone cold freaks who you prayed would just finish up their weird assessment of your food truck and leave.
Only, the day before they sampled the last item on the menu — one of our sides, a fried plantain that Bev swears could make the dead get up out of their graves with demands for seconds — I let them know that there'd be a special on offer tomorrow.
I could hear Abigail snickering behind me as the gentleman — with those suits and that cane, it was the best epithet I could come up with — lifted an eyebrow. "Indeed? And what will this special be?"
"Well, it's special, isn't it?" I said, laying on the Kentish Town charm with a grin and a shovel. "You'll have to come back and try it. Otherwise you won't have a complete understanding of the menu."
The woman nodded, solemn as ever, but the gentleman looked suspicious. "Until tomorrow, then," he said, with another squint at me.
Abigail joined me at the window to watch them go, arm-in-arm into the fog like something out of Casablanca. "So has anyone figured out what website they work for?" she asked.
"I don't think they do," I said, as the fog swallowed them up. "I think they're just weirdos."
"Weirdos you invited back for a special that you haven't even invented yet," said Abigail, with the kind of insight that makes her a great line cook and a really annoying cousin.
"Well, good-looking weirdos," I allowed.
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ok this took way longer than i expected because i got sidetracked looking at paintings and reading poetry and just admiring the mv, but it's finally finished!! let's talk about
higher
✨
i'm going to draw your attention to a few things.
firstly, these verses from rime of the ancient mariner by samuel taylor coleridge, published 1834:
The harbour-bay was clear as glass,
So smoothly it was strewn!
And on the bay the moonlight lay,
And the shadow of the Moon.
The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,
That stands above the rock:
The moonlight steeped in silentness
The steady weathercock.
And the bay was white with silent light,
Till rising from the same,
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came.
A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were:
I turned my eyes upon the deck—
Oh, Christ! what saw I there!
Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
And, by the holy rood!
A man all light, a seraph-man,
On every corse there stood.
This seraph-band, each waved his hand:
It was a heavenly sight!
They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light;
This seraph-band, each waved his hand,
No voice did they impart—
No voice; but oh! the silence sank
Like music on my heart.
secondly, this ivan aivazovsky painting, chaos (the creation), c. 1841:
and thirdly, the memorial of percy shelley, who drowned in a boating accident at age 29, in 1822:
there's a common conflation between the romantic and the pastoral in the general cultural consensus because the pastoral a) has been around as an art term longer than romantic, and b) romanticism does use some similar imagery. but there is a key difference: the pastoral is specfically an idealization of 'the simple shepherding life,' often for high class and urban audiences who have no conception of the details of this life includes. one of the more famous examples is christopher marlowe's a passionate shepherd to his love, published in 1599:
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the Rocks,
Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow Rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing Madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of Roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty Lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and Ivy buds,
With Coral clasps and Amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.
The Shepherds’ Swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
whereas romanticism is a more pointedly specific movement that was active from around 1800 to 1850, primarily focused on intense emotion and catharsis as the primary experiential output of an artwork. which most prominently manifested in a deep fascination and glorification of the natural environment and historical nostalgia. the movement sprung from the german sturm und drang (literally storm and drive/stress) period of the late 1760s to early 1780s, which was a direct reaction to rationalism and enlightenment. romanticism had similar impulses; it was also a revival of medievalism and a reaction against the looming urban sprawl and mechanization of the industrial revolution. a typical romantic poem from one of the originators of the english movment william wordsworth, composed upon westminster bridge, september 3, 1802, originally published 1807:
Earth has not any thing to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!
this romantic fascination with nature was underpinned by the philosophy of the sublime, generally agreed to be first treatised by edmund burke in 1756, the theory was also written about by kant and hegel. in the simplest of terms, the sublime is a quality of greatness beyond calculation, imitation, and human comprehension. the sublime is twofold; the greatness of the ocean is beautiful, but its power is also terrifying, and the experience of the sublime is to feel those two at once. to be in awe and also to be horrified of its ability to sink ships and drown a life in a tempermental change of tide.
let's take a quick detour to talk about
clothing
in the present day we have become much more lax thanks to the aesthetic movement in the late nineteenth century, but back in the early victorian period there are still highly structured rules about when and what clothing one can wear in public. and the clothing itself is also highly structured. anyone with a passing understanding of the victorian era knows about the whole flashing of the ankle thing and corsets galore, and it is true that the general day to day garments cover a lot of area. for men in particular, this manifests in no less than three layers in public at all times: shirt, waistcoat, and suit jacket, with a coat or mantle overtop in colder temperatures. this also includes a variation of a neck tie (depending on what year), hat, gloves, and any other decided upon accessories (this can also include a corset and other padded structural underpinnings).
an important tangent to mention here is that this is the uniform of the upper classes, although the rules do apply to the lower classes if they wanted to appear 'sophisticated.' the working man's uniform was also shirt, waistcoat, trousers, but the difference here is in the textiles themselves; the colours tended to be much more drab, with less complicated patterns. obviously due to the price fabric itself, but also due to the labour of laundry. an indicator of class here is the white shirt itself and its pristine implications. (there is a longer conversation here about the invention of neckties and detachable collars and cuffs, but that's for another day).
the silhouettes are very important to note here in the higher mv, as they are directly referential to the 'romantic poet' archetype of loose shirt and tight pants that we see in popular culture. but as i've just said, the reality is that men of the era were not dressed like this out in public. this look is essentially underwear; the implications are salacious. so where did this come from? well, we can blame it mostly on lord byron, who by all accounts was the first western 'rockstar.' notoriously called 'mad, bad and dangerous to know' by lady caroline lamb (a married women he publically had an affair with), byron was openly bisexual and deeply hedonistic with a lot of questionable habits, but his poetry was so popular that he was known to have women following him in the street and gathering in large quanities to see him at salons. and this was close to three decades before lizstomania. his close friends and contemporaries included percy and mary shelley, with whom he lived with abroad in italy for some time (this living arrangement resulted in the writing of both frankenstein and john polidori's the vampyre). byron's reputation was so eclipsing that the image of the lush poet lazing in his undergarments has become its own genre of romantic, slightly removed from the movement byron was writing in. it's also worth it to point out that there are no official portraits of byron dressed like this from the time. the visual assumption is somewhat apochryphal.
now let's get into some specifics. a.c.e is not unfamiliar to this silhouette; as previously mentioned in this post i wrote about their styling, the boxy loose upper and fitted lower is their general mode for their styling because of its emphasis on legs. cactus was the most extreme example of this, and to prove my point, this specific silhouette is extremely common in classical ballet:
1. vaslav nijinsky, giselle, 1911
2. nehemiah kish, george balanchine's ballo della regina, 2011/12
higher fits very neatly into this same category: we have an emphasis on the legs through tightly fitted garments and also through light reflective textile, as well as a secondary emphasis on arm and shoulder movements with looser fit shirts. plus, the shirts are made from fabrics that have good drape and flow, and mimic the visual effects of water:
there are also several instances of scale patterning and wetlook hair styles, further elabourating on the siren theme. and the jewelry is the same, purposefully cut clear stones for oceanic sparkle or pearls, the gem directly born from water, as highlighting accents to specific parts of the body - namely eyes, hands, and torso:
the body jewelry also serves a double purpose in addition to being sparkly; it gives a semblance of shape to their torsos so their movements aren't totally lost in the shroud of their shirts, and it also invokes some of that salacious element that us as a modern audience doesn't necessarily perceive in the same way when we see a man wearing only a shirt. all of these points are especially prominent in the stage costuming. concerning the veils, these are an aesthetic choice following the theme of depicting water without actually using water. the song has a very breathless quality to it, and the lyrics directly make reference to water and breathlessness, so it only makes sense to have a physical manifestation of struggling to breathe.
now let's talk about
mise-en-scène
unlike most kpop mvs, I would argue that higher is not a spectacle in what we normally see spectacle to be. the overwhelming visual saturation of goblin (and the goblin remix) is more in line with what we expect, but how do you follow that, top it? the answer is that you don't. you aim for something with a completely different feel, which is exact what they did with higher.
the performing arts did not escape romanticism. the very start of the movement, sturm und drang, is actually named from a specific play written by friedrich maximilian klinger that premiered in 1777. the plays of the brief period are characterized by extreme and passionate emotions, and were siblings to one of the most famous genres of theatre, the melodrama. meant to appeal directly to the emotions of the audience using sensationalist plots and stock characters, the melodrama was the predominent form of entertainment in victorian england and gradually developed a specific form of its own. in this period we also start to see the development of 'stagecraft' into the recognizable form that it takes today. footlights, limelight/spotlighting, the separation of house and stage lighting, fly galleries, elevator platform mechanics, and the first (purported) western use of rear projection are all innovations of the late 18th and 19th centuries, as melodramas were known to have very intricate and spectacular stagings. and to go along with these stagecraft mechanics we see the rise in designated stage crews, which were predominantly off-duty sailors looking to make money. the rope systems that made up the fly galleries were very similar to that on ships, and much of the terminology and supersitions crossed over: this is the origin of the term 'rigging' being used for suspending set elements, and also the origin of the 'don't whistle in a theatre' superstition. as sailors communicated with whistle patterns on ships, the same system was adopted for changing scenery, and therefore whistling a random pattern could potentially drop a setpiece on an unsuspecting victim.
so with all this backstory out of the way, what is the very first full location we see? a stage, complete with forced perspective via the painted fabric legs (the side panels) and borders (the wavy upper panels). we even have a flat painted backdrop with a projection screen and hanging overhead lamps. there's also a second interior set, a desk in what looks to be a study of some kind. bit self explanatory on this one, taking the poet notion on the nose.
the locations have a bit of an obtuse arc, but it's there when you look for it. it starts interior spaces, where the ideas of sublime attempted to be recreated for the viewer. then it moves to transitory spaces; portions of nature isolated from a whole environment, interjections of human architecture into natural spaces:
(the white hut structure in the greenhouse is reminiscent of a skene (literally hut/tent), which is the structure at the back of the stage in ancient greek theatre used for the actors to change their masks and costumes. it was originally temporary, but slowly transformed into permanent stage architecture)
and then finally outdoors, into the sublime itself:
jwm turner, crossing the bridge, 1815
lastly,
lighting
there's a very clear lighting pattern here, primarily in light and dark. the base colour story is fairly simple complementary pairs; there's a lot of purple/red and green, and blue and yellow/amber, with everything relatively on the same tonal level. there are deliberate interjections of heavily saturated red for specific effect. there are also, most notably, a 'dark' version of all the sets. obviously as a reference to the eclipse that we see in the mv and in the concept photo series, but also as a reference to that darker undercurrent of the sublime, the upsetting, the uncanny, and the terrifying:
And the bay was white with silent light/Till rising from the same/Full many shapes, that shadows were/In crimson colours came.
#a.c.e#ace w#kpop analysis#group analysis#me - a staunch defender of kpop as valid spectacle: actually this one is a melodrama its meant to hit different#this essay is otherwise known as the quickest and dirtiest history of romanticism ever#i really should have pointed out that when i say romantic i mean romantic with a capital r#that probably would clear up some confusion but i have an aesthetic to maintain do not @ me#this is potentially the most pretentious thing i have ever written i am so sorry if this makes no sense#some of these connections are so tenuous who let me have opinions on the internet#did i write this as an excuse to look at the percy shelley memorial because i am obsessed with it as a piece of art? maybe#anyways read tom stoppard's arcadia if you want to know more about that#you should read all this with the caveat that the sublime and romanticism need to be deconstructed through a postcolonialist lens#because these theories are super colonialist about 'unclaimed untameable natural spaces'#when in reality most natural spaces are specifically architected by indigenous peoples in order to preserve and coexist with the ecosystem#this is may be more obviously applicable to american subliminal painting than european but it still applies#since the british were notoriously good at fucking up every kind of expedition ever#because of their lack of respect for literally anything and everything#and their inability to listen to anyone other than another white british person#see: history of the northwest passage#im a bad theorist and not caught up so i didnt get that deep into it because counter to the wordcount#i am not trying to write another dissertation#this is not as well researched as it could be but also im not reading burke and kant again#also yes byron the shelleys and polidori did just bang out the foundations for all of science fiction and romantic vampire mythology#in like three days because the all got bored during a storm and want to try and 'outscare' each other#also by 1840 like every prominent romantic poet was dead either from their own stupidity or tuberculosis#with the exception of wordsworth that motherfucker started the movement and then outlived it#text
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Love’s in the Little Things - SherryBaby14′s Prompt Challenge
Prompt: Steve and a musician. Like she plays the piano and writes her own music; does small gigs here and there. They meet while he’s at one of her gigs, would bond over music. Sex on he Piano. Something intimate, soothing and musical.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader
Summary: A little story following the progression of Steve and a musician falling in love. With a little added extra at the end!
Warnings: Smut, Love-making, FLUFF! A tiny dash of Angst, Mentions of death
Words: 6.3k
Author’s Note: Thank you @sherrybaby14 for this lovely prompt. I got the opportunity to join my two passions together - writing and music. Stick around till the end of the fic for a little bonus tidbit (written and performed by yours truly)!
Also - I switched the timeline around involving some character deaths to suit my own person story needs.
***
“You realize this is the fifth time he’s been in here this month. If you don’t make a move now, he may never come back,” said Roxy, pouring you your pre-performance liquid courage.
“Oh please, Rox. He’s just here with his friends. I highly doubt he’s here to see me,” you scoffed, knocking back the shot. The alcohol burned as it trickled down your throat, the effects immediately going to your head, giving you a light, fuzzy feeling. In reality, the shot wouldn’t hit your blood stream for at least a few minutes, but the placebo effect also did wonders for your confidence.
It didn’t matter how many times you did this – got up on stage in front of people and performed for them – it was still nerve wracking. Older musicians always advised you that it would get easier with time. One day you’d feel more comfortable on stage than you did off. Well, five years and you were still waiting for that day. Therefore, the last thing you needed was the ridiculous notion that Captain America was coming to a little dive bar to hear you perform. It was too much pressure.
“I’d consider that true if it weren’t for the fact that he only ever comes in here when you’re here.” Roxy, one of your closest friends and the bartender at your regular paying gig location, eyed you and then the group of gargantuan superheroes in the far corner. There were three of them tonight. Sometimes there’d be more, a few more guys and the occasional girl, but no matter what, it was always those three. You were pretty sure you knew who they were – it was hard not to. There was Sam (The Falcon); he was usually the chattiest out of the three, flirting with women and loudly cracking jokes. Then there was the moody one, Bucky you thought his name was; he was quiet but seemed good-humored and kind behind the eyes. Lastly, there was Steve. He was somewhere in the middle. Livelier than Bucky, but not nearly as attention seeking as Sam. And, for lack of trying you couldn’t help but notice the way he watched you with rapt attention every time you performed. You figured it was just him being a polite audience member. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. What could Captain America possibly want with a dive bar musician?
“Coincidence at best. Besides, how could he possibly know what nights I’m performing? They line-up isn’t posted,” you reasoned, checking your makeup in the mirror behind the bar.
“True, but who’s to say he didn’t come up to the bar one night and ask for the monthly line-up? And who’s to say I didn’t give him a copy with all your performance nights highlighted?” Roxy proposed, looking away from you to polish a glass and place it on the shelf behind her.
“What? You didn’t!” you exclaimed, chancing a glance at the super soldier to see his eyes trained on you, before looking away bashfully to his friends, who immediately began to give him a hard time. Or at least you assumed that’s what they were doing based on the teasing punches and boyish looks they gave you and then him. Your gut flipped. Maybe Roxy was lying to get on your nerves. That had to be the only plausible option.
“Alright—” began the DJ, Matthew, stopping the music and bringing everyone’s attention to the stage “—tonight we have a regular to the stage. If you’re an alcoholic then you’ve seen her here plenty of times, and if this is your first time joining us, welcome but what took you so long?” A smattering of laughter flitted across the bar. Looking back over, you found Steve smiling politely at the joke. God he was handsome…
“Give it up for (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!”
Applause filled the air as you walked to the stage, exchanging niceties with Matthew before sitting down to the piano. You breathed deeply, trying to quell your nerves, but that night they seemed to be on overdrive. Heart rate elevated, the alcohol in your stomach burned. Closing your eyes, you placed your fingers to the keys and let the familiarity of them calm you. You could do this. Going into a simple chord progression, you began the intro to your first song. It was a simple little number, nothing too controversial, too fast, or too slow. Just enough of a pep to grab the people’s attention, without being assaulting to the ears. It was fun and you always found it livened the room up nicely. By the time it was over, your nerves had cooled a bit, but your hands still possessed a subtle tremor. So, diverting from the normal path, you did a cover for your second song. A tried and true rendition of Falling in Love with Love by Fred Astaire. The chords and words were familiar like a childhood blanket, the song bringing you back to watching your mom and dance in the kitchen as a child. It was when you moved into your original work again, a sweet little thing about sunny mornings and fresh spring mountains, that your eyes caught Steve’s as you looked out into the crowd. The dim fluorescents of the bar lights illuminated him like a spotlight, swirls of dust floating around his figure in the musty bar air. Illuminated in hazy golden light, he looked as though the heavens had opened up to present him just for you. Flaxen haired and clear, blue eyes, he looked reminiscent of another time. And you guessed, he technically was. But he looked at you like a man seeing a beautiful piece of artwork for the first time – his gaze so intense, so openly earnest and honest, you couldn’t help but stare back.
You didn’t look away the whole time.
After your set, you found yourself sticking around – something you almost never did. But you knew you couldn’t just flee from the establishment like normal. Not when you performed for one person and one person only that night. After about twenty minutes you began to wonder if you had been wrong. Maybe the connection had been in your head. No, it definitely wasn’t in your head. Maybe you should just go up to him? After all, this was the 21st century. Women approached men all the time. But then again, he was from a different time. What if he found it insulting? Or too forward? You were still debating the pros and cons of the situation when a tap on your shoulder brought you out of your musings.
Looking up and expecting to see Roxy or maybe even Steve, you were surprised to see his friend.
“Hey, I’m Bucky. I just have to say, great performance tonight,” he said casually, extending a hand.
You took it tentatively, shaking his hand. Confused as to why he was talking to you but not wanting to be rude you gave him a small smile, “Thanks. I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you Bucky.”
“Listen, I’m gonna cut straight to the point. I need a favor from you (Y/N).” Bucky proposed, running a hand through his slicked brown hair.
Intrigued, you leaned against the bar top behind you, “Okay, I’ll bite. What can I do for you?”
“You see my friend over there?” He pointed across the bar to Steve, who was currently looking anywhere but at the two of you. “Well, I’ve got a bit of a problem, because he keeps dragging us to this bar every weekend and as much as I like it here, I just want a quiet Saturday night in, ya know? Now, he’d never admit that he told me this, but he thinks you’re pretty much the coolest thing since sliced bread – which is a high compliment as he was actually there for the invention of sliced bread.”
“Is that so?” you asked, trying to suppress the wave of giddiness his words created.
“Yea, he looks great for his age, right?”
“So, what’s the favor then?”
“Well—” he began, drawing his face into an exaggerated eyeroll “—for some reason, while the man is completely unfazed by jumping out of exploding buildings, he can’t build up the courage to come and talk to you. So, your favor to me, would be to just look over there and wave him over so that I can go home and watch The Great British Bake Off.”
“The Great British Bake Off? Really?”
Bucky shrugged, “It’s heartwarming and educational.”
“Alright, I’ll talk to him. But what about your other friend? Mister Tall, Dark, and Goofy?” you asked, looking to Sam who was currently attempting to tell your golden-haired man some kind of story that required an enormous amount of arm movement. The comment earned you a guffaw from Bucky.
“Him? He’ll be fine. He’s already got the bartender’s number. I think they’re leaving together after her shift is over.”
Jaw dropping in shock, you looked to Roxy and pointed to Sam in question. She shrugged, an excited smile on her face as she turned back to her customers.
“Alright,” you agreed, shaking your head. “Go enjoy Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood. I’ll take good care of your friend.”
***
“What?! That can’t possibly be true. I feel like you’re lying to me right now.”
“No, it’s the honest to God truth. Bing Crosby came right up to me and shook my hand,” said Steve, large hands wrapped around his beer bottle as he told you probably the coolest story you’d ever heard.
Sitting back in your chair heavily, you let out a huff of air, “Wow…I mean…wow. I guess being a war hero really does come with some perks.”
“I don’t know if I would call myself a war hero…”
“Oh, so he’s modest too. Tell me, is there anything you’re bad at?” you asked, teasingly.
“There’s plenty of things I’m bad at,” scoffed Steve.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay, name some. What is the great Captain America bad at?” You lifted an eyebrow in challenge, unable to keep the smile from your face as you looked at the man in front of you.
“Well, for one thing, I can’t flirt with a pretty dame without help from my friend—”
“I think you’re doing a pretty good job of it yourself right now,” you interrupted, giving him a wry grin from across the small bar table.
Cheeks tinging a light shade of pink, Steve took a moment to drink from the bottle in his hand before continuing, “I can’t dance. Seriously, all I do is sway. I have trouble tying a tie. It always comes out crooked, no matter how many times I do it. Oh! And I’m a horrible singer. Couldn’t carry a tune to save my life – unlike some people.”
It was your turn to feel the heat form on your face, “I’m sure you’re not that bad.”
“Well, I’d show you, but I doubt anyone else here would appreciate it,” said Steve. At his comment the two of your looked around the bar to realize there wasn’t anyone else there to bother with his singing.
“What?” you asked incredulously. “What time is it?”
Checking his watch, Steve’s eyebrows lifted almost all the way to his hairline, “Three in the morning. Doesn’t this place close at two?”
“Yea, it does. I can’t believe Roxy didn’t kick us out.” Pulling out your phone you found a text from the woman in question.
Roxy:
You seemed a little too patriotic to interrupt. Have fun and lock the door on your way out. ;)
“I guess we should probably get out of here, huh?” you suggested, standing and grabbing your purse from the back of the chair. Steve stood too, taking his bottle and your glass to the bar and disposing of them appropriately. Walking across the stage, you went to turn out the lights on the far wall when you stopped. Looking at the piano in front of you, you turned back to Steve.
“While we’re here, do you want a free concert?”
“Depends…what are you playing?” asked Steve, rounding the bar and coming to sit on the bench next to you.
“Anything you want. I’m open for requests,” you announced, brushing your fingers across the keys and playing out a small arpeggio.
“How about one of yours?” Steve suggested, surprising you.
“Really? Out of all the music in the world, you wanna’ listen to mine?”
“Of course, it’s my favorite. Haven’t missed a show all month.”
***
Too early. It was absolutely too early for your phone to be ringing. But there it was, laying on the mattress next to you annoyingly loud. You contemplated throwing it across the expanse of your small loft, but ultimately decided that you were in no way financially able to afford a new phone. So instead, you swiped your thumb across the screen and held it up to your ear.
“Hello?”
“Hey! (Y/N)!” Steve’s chipper voice rang through the line, bringing you out of your sleepy stupor.
“Steve, hey, what’s up?” you asked, trying not to sound like you just woke up. Unfortunately, you were unable to suppress the yawn that escaped the back of your throat.
“Oh jeez, I didn’t wake you up, did I?” You could already hear the apology on the tip of his tongue.
“No, no. I’m always up at this time. It’s—” you looked over to the clock on the wall “—Five thirty. Five thirty?!”
“Sorry. I’ve been up for hours. I guess I didn’t realize it was still so early,” Steve apologized. You could hear the distant bustle of city life behind him; why was everyone in D.C. such early risers?
Sighing internally, you concluded it was probably better you get up now. You were due at your day job soon anyway. Sitting up and swinging your legs out of the warm cocoon of blankets, you stretched out, bringing life to your body, “It’s fine. Really. You get to hear me make coffee though. I desperately need coffee.”
The soft, nervous laugh on the other end of the phone made you smile as you padded barefoot to your small kitchen. “I will gladly listen to you make coffee, if it makes up for the fact that I woke you up,” said Steve, his words causing butterflies to form in the pit of your stomach. You had to stop for a moment, hand paused on your kettle as you tried to keep your head. When you failed to respond right away, Steve went on, “Anyway, I just called to tell you, that I had a really great time the other night.”
“Me too,” you replied, placing the kettle on the stove and turning it on, before grabbing the coffee from the cupboard.
“I was wondering if you wanted to do it again. Preferably sometime soon?”
“I don’t think the manager will let us stay so late after closing again. Even if I do technically work there,” you teased, grabbing the French press and filling it with a few spoonfuls of coffee.
“I don’t know, I bet you could convince them to let us stay. You seem like you’d be able to talk any man into doing just about anything,” Steve teased back.
“Really, is that so?”
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe not any man – maybe just me.”
***
It was a nice, sunny spring day. Summer was just around the corner and midafternoons were beginning to warm up considerably. You were on your lunch break, iced lemonade in hand as you walked through President’s Park with Steve. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear in response to the light breeze, you glanced down to make sure that the skirt of your sundress was still in place. The last thing you needed to do was accidentally flash him on your first official date.
“Obviously performing at the bar isn’t your only job if this is your lunch break. Tell me about your day job,” said Steve, walking idly next to you, hands in the pockets of his khakis.
“I’m actually a music teacher,” you answered, taking a sip of your lemonade.
“Really?” asked Steve, a hint of pleasant surprise in his voice.
“Yea, I guess you could say music pervades every part of my life,” you answer with a laugh.
“Do you like it?”
“I really do. Enough to do it for the rest of my life at least. I mean – performing is fun, but I don’t know if I could do it for a living. I’m much happier teaching kids how to read music or play an instrument.” The two of you came to a small park bench and sat down under the shade of a large tree.
“So, no dreams of being big and famous?”
You scoffed, shaking your head, “No. Absolutely not. I don’t think I could handle the pressure.”
“Yea, it definitely isn’t easy,” Steve sighed, looking down at the ground between his spread legs. At his comment, you realized how insensitive you must have sounded. For a second you had completely forgotten than he was Captain America – a famous household name. To you, he was just Steve Rogers, the man with a warm smile and a genuine aura that emanated throughout and around him.
“I think it was my music teacher in high school that really made me want to be a teacher,” you said, changing the subject. “She was always encouraging me to pursue my music and creativity. Which was great to hear when no one else in my life seemed to care much at the time. Who was your favorite teacher growing up?”
Steve seemed to perk up at your question, looking out into the expanse of the park as he pondered his answer, “Probably my art teacher. I always liked to doodle and draw, but he was the first person to tell me I had talent. After that, I actually took a few classes at the local college. Nothing too fancy, but I learned a lot about techniques and different mediums.”
“So, you’re an artist?”
“Well, I don’t know if I would call myself an artist…”
“There you go again being modest. Tell me, do you make art? Do you put pencil to paper or paint to canvas and makesomething with it?” you asked in a guiding manner.
“Yea, I guess—”
“Then you’re an artist! I bet you have a pencil and sketch pad on you right now. Am I wrong?”
Steve looked at you in bewilderment, before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small notebook, “How did you know?”
“Because, you’re an artist! And, I may have seen the outline of it earlier when we were walking,” you admitted.
“Were you checking out my ass?”
The question caught you off guard, leaving you gawking at the surprisingly forward question. Steve laughed at you, indicating that he was obviously teasing, and you slapped him playfully on the arm.
“Maybe I was. It’s a nice ass,” you teased back. “Now show me some of your drawings. You’ve seen all of my creative genius; I want to see yours.”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t I draw something now and you can be the judge of whether it’s accurate or not?”
“Okay—” you looked around, trying to determine what would be the best thing for him to sketch “—that’s even better. How about that flower bed over there?”
“Nah, I think I see something much prettier,” responded Steve. Looking back at him, you found him already sketching away, pencil to the paper of his notebook as he glanced between it and you. He was drawing you. “No, no. Look back over that way,” he instructed. “The light was catching you perfectly.”
You did as he said, directing your gaze back towards the flower bed, the soft sound of pencil scratches mixing with the chirping of birds, and murmur of people walking by. Stealing glances at him out of the corner of your eye, you watched as he worked. Brow knitted in concentration, jaw relaxed, and soft pink lips parted, long, straight lashes brushing his cheekbones every time he blinked; it was in that moment you came to realization that you could watch him like this forever.
“Hey, no peaking,” he pouted, catching you staring when he looked back up at you for reference. You looked away, training your eye on a couple of squirrels chasing each other across the lawn. Perfectly content, you sat listening to him work until his voice broke the silence.
“Okay, all done.”
Turning back towards him, you scooted down the bench till you were hip to hip, peering into his lap to view his hard work. The sight took your breath away, a soft gasp moving past your lips as you stared at yourself in graceful strokes of graphite. He was right. The lighting had been perfect. Somehow, he managed to capture the rays of sun catching the side of your face, illuminating you like you glowed from the inside out. You held a small smile at the corner of your mouth and your eyes held a wistful romance to them as little tendrils of hair danced around your face. He even sketched some of your sundress – scribbling the lace and little pattern of peaches at the neckline. You were beautiful. He had made you beautiful.
Speechless, you stared at the sketch and then back up at Steve who looked down at you with an apprehensive expression. You beamed at him before gushing, “It’s amazing Steve. Thank you.”
Maybe it was a bit too soon. Maybe you should have waited till the third date, or even the second, but something just felt so right in that moment. Lifting up, you pressed your lips to his, the soft warmth of his mouth comfortable and exciting all at the same time. Brushing your lips against his softly, your heart fluttered when he did the same, kissing you back tentatively. When his large hand came to cup your face, you melted into him craving the feel of his firm hand against your soft skin. Surprisingly gentle for his size, but not for his demeanor, he kissed you like you were a flower and he a gentle breeze, caressing your petals with a tender confidence.
Pulling away, you found a softness in his eyes and in his smile that made your heart clench. It felt so strange to be already so enamored by a person you had just met. But you couldn’t help the lightness that coursed through your body when it came to him.
***
“You know, you really don’t have to keep coming to all of my gigs. You’ve already got the girl,” you half-joked to Steve as he swung your guitar over his shoulder and lifted your heavy amp with ease. Two months. That’s how long you’d been sharing early morning phone calls and lunch-time walks through the city. Peppering in the occasional dinner date, Saturday matinees at the theatre, and him attending every single one of your gigs, things were really beginning to click. However, you couldn’t help but shake the familiar monster of apprehension and doubt.
You knew perfectly well where your feelings stood with Steve, but did he feel the same way?
You’d been hurt in the past. Partners that left you guessing and clawing for any type of validation and affirmation that you were important to them. Countless hours spent worrying and wishing that they’d just show up like they said they would, and without complaint or snide remarks. Therefore, when Steve actually showed up, it felt obligatory – like he was doing everything right not because he wanted to, but because he felt like he had to.
“Do you not want me to come?” Steve asked as the two of you left the bar and headed down the street to your building.
“No—yes—I mean, of course I want you to be there. I just mean, it can’t be very fun for you to be in a smoky bar listening to me play the same ten songs over and over again. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there when you don’t want to be.” You couldn’t believe how stupid and insecure you sounded as you said the words, but at the same time you needed to say it. At the very least it would be an out for him to take, no matter how sad it made you seem.
“Hey.” Steve stopped you, grabbing you by the wrist and turning you towards him. “I’d listen to you play a rendition of Pop Goes the Weasel over and over again for the rest of my life, if that’s what you were passionate about. I love your music and I love listening to you play it. You’re my girl. I’m gonna’ be there to support my girl.”
Moving your hand, you intertwined your fingers with his. Unable to find the words to express to him how much his proclamation had meant to you, you simply nodded as tears of relief and happiness began to well in your eyes. Silently, he disentangled his hand from yours and reached up, thread his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck. He pulled you into him, bending down to kiss you sweetly, but firmly. His kiss was a promise and a reassurance that he was there, and he wasn’t going anywhere. The flutter of your eyelashes as they closed pushed a single tear down the side of your cheek, the warm wetness of it rolling until it reached the line of your jaw. Steve pulled away from you, using his thumb to wipe the stray tear from your face.
“Stay the night with me tonight?” you asked, the words leaving you like a physical need.
Steve’s eyes widened in response, before searching your face for any sign that you didn’t mean what you said. But you did.
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”
The room was lit by only moonlight as you slowly undressed. Each article of clothing removed, revealing more of your body and more of your soul to the man in front of you. Reverently he sat at the edge of your bed, shirt and shoes already removed, as he watched you bare yourself to him. Once completely free of your clothes, you were overtaken by a wave of insecurity, wanting nothing more than to cover yourself, but the sound of Steve’s voice broke you of the urge.
“Come here,” he whispered, eyes shining in the darkness.
Tentatively you stepped towards him, toes digging into the plush rug sat under your bed. He guided you onto his lap, his hands ghosting over the skin at your sides as he took you in. Steve looked at you the way he looked at you the first night you spoke – like a man seeing a beautiful piece of artwork for the first time. The heat of his gaze made you both unbearably aroused and unbearably uncomfortable. Wrapping your arms around his neck you kissed him, a mesh of lips and tongues that left you breathless and wanting. Moving your hands down his chest, you felt the unyielding muscle under warm skin. Like a Greek god, sculpted by the greatest minds of the renaissance, he was gorgeous. The feeling of his mouth connecting with one of your nipples stole the breath from your lungs, making you keen with desire as you arched into him.
He continued to lavish your chest, switching between breasts as he kissed, licked, sucked, and nipped. Within no time, you were putty in his hands, a garbled mess of pleasure and want. When you thought you couldn’t take any more, he flipped you over, placing you gently onto the mattress and pulling away to remove the last of his clothing. Standing in front of you, stripped and vulnerable, you had the lucid thought that you had never seen anything so beautiful in your life.
Climbing over you, he kissed his way up your body, leaving little bites and marks from your hip bone to your neck. You felt the hot, weight of him at your center, causing your hips to buck in response. A small whimper escaped you as he slid his length up and down your folds, grinding into you as bit down on your lower lip. Hot and wet and hard, he eased into you slowly, watching your face as he did. Eyes endlessly light blue, he stared into your soul as he panted heavily at the tight feel of you around him. Impossibly full of him and only him, you took deep breaths as you adjusted to it. Pulling your arms from around his back, he pinned your hands to the pillows behind your head, threading his fingers with yours as he pulled out of you slowly and pushed back in. The sweet friction was enough to make you sing.
Steadily, his pace picked up speed as he rocked in and out of you. And while neither of you had said the words, he made love to you like they had been uttered a thousand times before. Your sweat-slicked bodies glided over each other as he fucked into with a devotion unlike any other. And you did the same, your hands and lips amorously worshipping his body as he brought you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. Fingers plucking and hands strumming, it was as if the two of you were making music of your own, playing each other like instruments in the moon-soaked bedroom. The sweet sound built and built, an orchestration of harmonious balance rising higher and higher until you both reached the peak of your crescendo, only to fall blissfully from it in a lilting melody.
Laying in the aftermath of your song, you couldn’t help but think the words: I love this man.
***
“You really should eat something,” you said once again, pointing to the tray of untouched room service breakfast.
“I told you. I’m not hungry,” Steve snapped, moving in front of the mirror to tie his tie.
You sighed quietly to yourself. It had been a hard week. For both of you. This was not the first time Steve had been short with you today and you expected it would not be the last. Then of course, you couldn’t blame him. You were going to a funeral after all. Grabbing your cup of coffee from the tray, you wordlessly excused yourself to the bathroom to finish your makeup. Once in the crippling silence of the surrounding white tile, you braced yourself against the bathroom counter and took deep, calming breaths. You could do this. You had to be able to do this. For you. For your relationship. But most importantly, for Steve.
And you were trying, really you were, but nothing had prepared you for this. Although, you doubted anything really could. Supporting your boyfriend through the death of a past love was not an everyday scenario. He was trying to keep it together; you knew he was. You could see the sadness in his eyes and on his face when he thought you weren’t looking. But you were always looking. It was not easy watching him mourn the loss of another woman. It brought up all the ugly insecurities you tried to mask and move past. In no way did you blame him either. Peggy was an important part of his life – a part that you would never fully understand – and he had loved her. You respected that, but it didn’t stop the evil thoughts that crept into your mind. The ones that whispered things like he would never love you like he loved her, that this loss would make him realize that you were nothing but second best, that he would realize that you weren’t good enough. Shaking the nagging voices away, you unzipped your makeup bag and began pulling out the items you needed.
Steve cared for you; if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have asked you to be here with him. He wouldn’t have flown you all the way to London with him for this funeral. He wouldn’t be depending on you for support and companionship. All of this you knew, but every jab and harsh word left you feeling more and more doubt. Of course, this was not Steve’s fault. He was grieving and if that meant you had to be strong for the both of you, then so be it. You would put your hurt aside and put on a brave face so that Steve could be the weak one. He deserved, at the very least, that.
Brushing on a bit of mascara and pulling out a sensible lip color, the sound of a light knock brought your attention to the exit of the bathroom. Steve, in black suit and tie, stood in the doorway, hair neatly jelled and tie crooked. He pointed to the askew item of clothing in utter defeat, a hopeless expression on his face. You set your lipstick down and crossed the room to him, reaching for his tie and undoing it before going through the familiar routine.
“I’m sorry.”
Too engrossed with the movement of your hands, you didn’t look up when you answered, keeping your voice light and casual, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” You finished the knot, straightening it snuggly against his Adams Apple and giving the length of the tie a little pat. He caught your hands before you could bring them down to your sides, holding them in his own and bringing them up to lightly kiss your fingers.
“Thank you for being here with me. I don’t think I could have done this without you.” His words were honest and sincere and meant the world to you. The fact that even when he was falling apart at the seams, he still cared enough to keep your emotions in mind, held more weight than any cynical thought your brain could create.
Standing on tiptoes, you held his face in your hands and looked into the depths of his blue eyes, “Today is going to absolutely suck. It really is. And I’m so sorry that it has to happen. But I’m right here. Anything you need, I’m right here. I promise.”
Steve nodded, his eyes becoming misty and red. Silently, the two of you exited the bathroom and grabbed your things. You, a coat and purse; him, a coat and a slice of toast.
You were just out the door, Steve following behind when you felt the soft brush of his fingers as he tucked in the tag of your blouse. The act though small and seemingly insignificant, was like a whispered proclamation on your skin. A murmured promise of I love you.
***
A year and a half and blissfully content, you lounged in your bed, staring at the expanse of Steve’s naked back as he stood in front of the kitchen sink. Muscles rolling and flexing, he scrubbed at the dishes from dinner.
“How is it, that I always end up doing all the cooking and cleaning when this is your apartment?” Steve asked teasingly over his shoulder as you stretched out in satisfaction across the bed, sheets still wrinkled and twisted from your after dinner ‘dessert’.
You laughed, rolling over and smiling lazily in his direction, “Because you’re a much better cook and you love me.”
Steve chuckled, a short, barking sound you had come to know as sarcastic, “I don’t know what me loving you has to do with getting stuck doing the dishes every night.”
“Shall I play you a song to make the job easier?” you asked, reaching over the foot of the bed and pulling up your guitar from its careless place on the ground. You pushed yourself into a sitting position against the headboard and began to strum a series of chords.
“Mmmm, I guess that’s a fair payment,” Steve responded warmly.
“I knew you’d say that!” you exclaimed happily, starting into one of Steve’s personal favorites.
A half hour later, dishes done, and Steve now laid on the bed with his head propped up on your outstretched legs, you were still playing. Languidly, you plucked and strummed through all the songs you knew until you found yourself playing something you hadn’t planned on showing him yet. He picked up immediately on the unfamiliar progression, turning his head to look at you.
“I haven’t heard that one before, what is it?” he asked, running his fingertips tenderly up and down your bare calf.
“Just something new I’ve been working on,” you answered sheepishly, continuing to repeat the first few chords.
“Something new? What’s it about?”
“You.”
Your profession took him by surprise, a delighted smile spreading across his face as he looked up at you, “You wrote a song about me?”
“Maybe,” you answered, nudging his far shoulder with your toes.
“Is it a sad song?” he asked playfully as he turned his head to stare up at the ceiling.
“No, it’s not a sad song.”
“Oh no, is it an angry song?”
You giggled, “Definitely not.”
“A happy song?” he questioned once more, knowing full well that that was the answer all along.
“Yes. It’s a happy song. A very happy song,” you stated, looking down at him and wondering how in the world you got so lucky. “The happiest song, actually.”
“Well then, play away.”
And you did. You played, pouring every ounce of love and adoration into the melody and lyrics, as Steve listened quietly, looking at you like the world began and ended with that one song. You played knowing that you had never been happier than in that moment, and you played knowing that life could only get better from there on out.
To listen to the song written for Steve, please follow this link: https://soundcloud.com/user-144129307/steves-song
Marvel Taglist:
@caffiend-queen
@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall
@grincheveryday
#lemons#fanfic#steve rogers#steve rogers x female reader#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers x reader#fluff#love#angst#music
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The Unlikely Advocate - Part 5
Just a little more backstory to how this little family of a vampire and two witches formed
PART 1
PART 2
PART 3
PART 4
Tagged: @sylverdeclermont @christi14 @fanficqueen306 @holamor
“You look ravishing.” Baldwin admired when Eileen joined him in the foyer.
“Then why dinner? I already gave you my consent to order me around for a few hours.”
He gave a half smile.
“I suppose you took that to mean I planned to tie you to my bed and have my way with you?”
“Doesn’t it?” She challenged.
“Do you like the dress?” He switched subjects.
She did, from first she saw it, hanging on the outside of her wardrobe. It was a beautiful deep red sculpture and contour dress with a risqué slash reaching from the hem to halfway up her thigh.
“It’s beautiful, thank you,” she regarded him in his suit and tie, “where are we going for dinner?”
“Dinner will be served on my plane.”
“Where are we going?”
“You will see.”
“I don’t have my passport.”
“You won’t need it.”
“But-“
“Do I hear dissent, so soon?”
“No, it’s just-“
“Come here.” He ordered, keeping his gaze on her as she approached.
“We need a penalty system,” he decided “if we’re to do this properly, you will have to behave, do not challenge, question or lie to me as I will be keeping count of every transgression and you will be punished accordingly.”
“Are you gonna put me over your knee?” She taunted, placing her hands on his broad chest and leaning forward for a kiss.
“Do not enter into a battle of wills with me, I will win each time,” he warned, “but if my terms were unclear, I’ll happily repeat them?”
“I’m curious, what is my penance?”
“Why do you need to know?”
“I need to know if it’s worth misbehaving.”
“It isn’t.”
“Are you sure?” She grinned.
With a quiet growl, he pressed her against the wall, capturing her lips in a hard kiss and she was unable to suppress the satisfied smile from her ability to evoke a reaction.
“Is this what you want,” he asked gruffly, “I know you were close before,” I could sense it, smell it, practically taste it. You want nothing more than to be taken hard right here.”
He slid his hand inside the long slit in the side of the dress, running almost the length of her leg, and his fingers slipped inside the delicate lace of her underwear.
“Yes,” she gasped as he toyed with her, barely touching her clit to instead slide a finger up and down her slick entrance, the obvious coolness of his skin against her heat made his touch feel more erotic than all the warmbloods she’d been with.
“However,” he pulled away, “you misbehaved.
As if to underscore his point, he gently kissed her neck, just over her pulse.
“I gave you instructions, they were not followed. Assuming that I failed to make them clear enough, I repeated them. The failure to comply from now on will be treated the same.
He framed her face in his hands tenderly.
“This is not about giving you what you think you want.”
“Then what is it?” She mewled in frustration as the friction he’d created within her dissipated.
“I’m giving you what you need.”
“Which is?”
“Freedom.”
“From?”
“Responsibility, fear of failure. You’ve been white knuckling for a year, and you have managed because of your strength, and courage. Tonight you will do as I say because you have the safety of knowing that I will not drop the plates you started spinning. I will not let you take control over what happens at any point tonight, it defeats the purpose. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he kissed he lightly on the temple and released her, “if I’m unable to discipline you immediately at any point in the evening I will do so when we are alone. I just hope the sun doesn’t rise before your penance is paid. Best let this be the last defiance or it will be a very unsatisfying evening for you.”
She let the protest die in her mouth, internally cursing his ability to find the one thing he could most easily control her with.
A denied climax was annoying at the best of times. Right then, it was the last thing she wanted.
“Stop pouting,” he rolled his eyes with amusement, “I guarantee a wonderful evening.”
“Oh. My God!” Eileen moaned involuntary as the softest, richest chocolate cake she had ever tasted played on her tongue.
After two and a half hours of carefully spaced dishes and conversation, she had already forgiven his harsh denial.
“Good?” He asked.
She nodded with enthusiasm and offered him a forkful.
“No thank you, it would be wasted on me.”
“Am I allowed to ask you questions?”
“Of course.”
“Can you not taste human food?”
“Not in the same way you do,” he shrugged, “Matthew has a theory to explain why it is different,” she nodded for him to continue, “which I did not care to have him explain.”
“You don’t want to know more about your fundamental nature?”
“I know everything I need to, I have not much use for the meaning behind it.”
“But you’ve never tasted chocolate, I cannot even imagine that.”
“Well you needn’t imagine because I have.”
“But you’re so much older than-“ she stopped, “I’m sorry that was disrespectful.”
“And if you were going to say the cultivation of ‘xocoatl’ then it would also be untrue.”
She chuckled, expecting him to admit the joke and stopped when he did not.
“I know that the Romans were not in the America’s two thousand years ago.”
“That’s true,” he agreed, “but we were in Africa, and many from there did travel and trade with the people’s they found in Central America. It was nothing like that confection you are eating now, no sugar, or milk, just a bitter drink that did wake you up. I was lucky to be present for a demonstration.”
“Do you have any idea how big a discovery that is? Not only was it not fucking Columbus, it wasn’t even Leif Erickson who was the first European to ‘discover’ America.”
“Progress is not linear, humans forget much more than they discover, then, when the need arises they ‘invent’ it anew. It’s the way of things.”
“That’s a very kind appraisal.”
“Unlike you, I was not always what I am now, I once shared more in common with humans than creatures.”
“Hard to picture you as a soft squishy human.”
“I could disembowel a man from the age of ten, we did not do soft and squishy in those times.”
“What was Rome like back then?”
“Brutal, beautiful. Have you ever been there in our civilised era?”
“Once, with my family. Sophia and I slipped away as often as we could, we walked around, enjoyed the sun, I found an undiscovered bath-house.”
“Really?” He chuckled.
“Yeah, it was under a space mapped out for luxury apartments. The guy who‘d bought the land was not happy when I uncovered it in front of the police he’d called to have me removed. Turns out he knew and kept it a secret, completely willing to destroy important artefacts to make money.”
“Is that how you know Diana, you find things for her?”
“She doesn’t need my help but I’m happy to give it.”
“You have a talent for finding things.”
“Private Investigator, professional finder of things. I don’t follow people having affairs or being people, I specialise in books, artworks, genealogy.”
“You created your own niche, commendable but dangerous.”
“How so,” she noticed his eyebrow quirk, “it’s not a challenge, I’m genuinely interested in your opinion.”
“Very well,” he seemed satisfied, “it’s a disparate skill set, might raise attention as to how you come by the knowledge.”
“Good point,” she relented, “I chalk it down to my superior research skills.”
“Cunning.”
“Thank you,” she replied politely, trying to ignore the flush of endorphins his approving look gave her with respect to her manners, “and for dinner, it was delicious.”
“I will pass your compliments to the chef,” he checked his watch, “landing should be around twenty minutes.”
“The helicopter is ready for you at the airport sir,” a steward advised him and received a curt nod before removing her empty plate and disappearing into the front section of the private plane.
“Exciting,” she watched him carefully, hoping for an indication, “wonder where we can get to in three hours. Not Paris, it wouldn’t take that long.”
“The helicopter will add twenty minutes if it is of any help.”
“May I please open a window blind to see outside?” He silently shook his head.
She opened her mouth to protest and the slight head tilt told her he was waiting for it.
“As you command.” She answered instead.
“What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I can hear the cogs turning, speak your mind.”
“Okay, I still don’t understand why.”
It was his turn to give her a confused look.
“I mean,” she continued, “I have been nothing but a pain in your backside. I yelled at you in front of your staff, you’ve been dealing with my family, why do this for me?”
“Is it not fairly obvious?”
“Not to me,” she admitted, “if we hadn’t met at the Congregation hearing or even Christopher’s baptism, you wouldn’t have to deal with all my baggage.”
“I don’t have to. I’m sure my sister would make sure both you and Izzy were well protected. I choose to help because I care for the both of you.”
“She seems to really like you.”
“Very smart child and an excellent judge of character.”
“Yes she is, but-“
“But?”
“She needs me,” Eileen admitted, “and I can’t get involved with someone while I’m trying to be there for her. I want to trust but-“
“You don’t have to explain, I understand,” he reached out and placed his hand over hers as the overhead lights came on.
“We are coming into land,” he got up, approached and buckled her seatbelt before taking his seat and doing the same.
The landing was very smooth, surprisingly so, and she waited until the all clear was given before trying to stand up.
“Oh no,” he grinned, a hand firmly on her shoulder, “not without this.”
He showed her a black eye mask blindfold.
“This goes on until we reach our destination.”
“But I want to see outside the helicopter.”
“You will, on the way back.”
She nodded and went to take it from him to put it on.
“Allow me?”
“I’m at your command.”
“You learn quickly.”
Baldwin could shield her eyes but could not hide the sound of waves crashing or the scent of sea air as soon as he got her out of the helicopter.
He led her safely away from the propellers and stopped.
“What’s happening?” She asked with a thrill of excitement.
“Patience,” the smile in his voice was evident and he picked her up into a princess lift, she was more than happy to clasp her hands behind his neck as he carried her to god knows where.
“Are you ready?” He asked after ascending three flights of stairs without even a sigh of strain.
“Desperately,” she admitted as he set her down carefully, a gust of seaside air whipping her hair back and catching her breath.
“I’m going to take this off now, but you have to keep your eyes closed until I tell you otherwise, clear?”
“Crystal.” She confirmed with a definite nod and felt him untie the material.
“Remember, keep them closed,” he warned and placed a glass in her hand.
“What’s this?” She asked before scenting the wine.
“I’m afraid if I tell you that, you will know where we are.”
“Okay, I already know we’re on an island, facing the water. It took twenty minutes from the airport to here, and this’ the Mediterranean, Italy I think?”
“That’s incredible so far.”
“I think, somewhere in the bay of Naples.”
“How on earth-“
“I told you, I’m good at finding things.”
“Using your magic is cheating.”
“I’m using my powers of deduction, for example, humidity is high, without the sea air it would feel warmer so Italy instead of Greece. The wind seems to fan in around like we’re facing a bowl, so bay of Naples.”
“Unbelievable.”
“We’re on Capri?” She asked and he hesitated for a moment.
“You were so close to being correct, open your eyes.”
The vista before her was like a moving painting, the night illuminated up by so many lights from Naples, reflected in the water. Waves crashing against the cliffs below at high tide created mesmerising sound.
“We are on Ischia, that,” he pointed to a nearby island, “is Capri.”
“Take your time.” He kissed her shoulder and left her to take a nearby chair with his wine to enjoy the view. Rather, he was enjoying the view of Eileen enjoying the view.
“Um-“ she spoke after five minutes of silence.
“Yes?” Baldwin responded, now that she had emerged from the stare herself.
“You live here?”
“I live a lot of places, but my favourite vineyard is here.”
“Oh, this is your bachelor pad, impress and bed some supermodels from Milan.” She teased before taking a sip of wine.
“No-one save myself has been here, until now.” He admitted, offering his hand.
She took it and let him pull her onto his lap.
“It’s very beautiful,” she snuggled against his shirt.
“Don’t get too comfortable, we have a party to attend.”
“Really?” She grinned widely.
“A festival, to celebrate the harvest,” he murmured, running his fingers through her hair, “fair warning, you will probably get fairly messy.”
“Why?”
“Have you tried ever grape treading?”
#baldwin montclair#a discovery of witches#adow#baldwin de clermont#adow baldwin#adow fic#adow baldwin fic
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Hello just came across your blog! Can I get headcanons for Kenshin, Shingen, and Ieyasu with an MC who is an artist? They had sketchbook and pens, pencils in their purse when they time travelled, so they continue to draw... thank you so much!!
It’s been so long since I’ve gotten an ask I might cry :’)
It’s been a while and writing papers for finals beat up my brain so this might turn out bad but I hope you like it ^.^/
Kenshin: You can’t tell me ANYBODY who is an artist wouldn’t want to draw a portrait of Kenshin. When they first met MC was standing in front of him, mouth agape. People around MC would think they’re just shocked by his beauty, but the MC’s hands were twitching with the urge to draw this human masterpiece. After running into eachother and becoming friends, MC finally popped the question of him being a model for drawing. With the promise of free sake, Kenshin agreed for his peculiar artist friend. Not wanting to take too much of his time, MC just drew a sketch with pencil. Kenshin was baffled with how good it looked with just a pencil outline. The pencil is the second best pointy thing he’s ever seen in his life (the first being a sword) because of what it could create. After MC and Kenshin got together, he would supply them with whatever paper or utensils they needed. They held a funeral for each pencil and pen because those ain’t gonna be invented for a long time. MC has a secret drawing of Kenshin with his bunny hoard while he was working on paper documents that they will pull out as comfort whenever Kenshin’s away. He loves watching MC draw and will keep every picture, even the little doodles of flowers and bunnies. Will get VERY jealous if MC gives drawings to others because they’re so special to him (they’re not wedding rings Kenshin calm down)
Shingen: “A god/goddess of beauty AND the arts?” Shingen is immediately intrigued. Would probably pull a “draw me like one of your French girls” and would greatly appreciate if MC drew him (which who wouldn’t want to draw dem muscles?). Shingen is a craftsman himself with woodworking, so he has an eye for detail and precision. He’s impressed and intrigued with modern art styles and would be in love with MC’s drawings. If MC couldn’t describe what a modern object looked like, they’d whip out their sketchbook and pencil and draw it, which would fascinate Shingen both by the object and by the abstract drawing. He would most likely hang MC’s drawings everwhere and tell guests “you see this? My beautiful angel drew this.” and hype MC’s artwork up. It’s led to MC being very popular and pursue their artist dream. With his craftsmanship skills and Sasuke’s help, Shingen gave MC for their birthday his creations of his newly invented Sengoku pencils and pens for when MC runs out of ink and graphite from their modern art supplies. An artist MC would THRIVE with Shingen holy smokes.
Ieyasu: When they first meet, Ieyasu would be eyeing your strange book of papers and strange stick tools. MC would catch his eye and show him what these art tools are. He’d pretend like he doesn’t care but trust me, he is internally intrigued. After a while Ieyasu and MC would become friends. It became a tradition for MC visiting his place as the last pit stop for delivering mail as chatelain. Ieyasu would tell them that they should sit down or else MC’s going to trip and be a hassle (translation “Please take a seat and rest. I’m worried about you”). They sit on the balcony and watch Wasabi the deer prance around the garden. MC fishes their sketchbook and pencil to do some drawings to unwind. Ieyasu’s in a trance watching the pencil move against the paper. After MC was finished, they tore the paper from the book and handed it to Ieyasu before leaving to go back to their room. It was a picture of Wasabi in the garden *cue blushing Ieyasu bc its so cute and pretty at the same time*. He keeps it somewhere only he can see because its secretly precious to him. When MC and him become a couple, he would watch MC draw every night, fascinated with whatever MC created. Whenever MC asks how it looks he’d say “It’s good I guess.” But if MC is feeling insecure about their work he would find the words to say how much he admires their artwork. There’d be hell to pay if anybody critiqued his MC’s artwork because in his eyes he thinks their creations and their drive to be an artist is so admirable and fascinating and is one of the reasons he loves MC. MC would magically find more writing paper and writing utensils. How did that get there? You know it’s him =u=. MC would try teaching him how to draw and he’d try (its canon he is on kindergarten art level) but MC will cherish his drawings and he’s upgraded to being able to draw a pretty good flower (Be proud of him).
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Things They Need
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale have spent millennia searching for love, skipping from one human to another but never quite satisfied with any one of them. Maybe they’ve been looking for something only the other can provide.
AKA Crowley and Aziraphale’s failed loves told in a series of vignettes but its never quite about the person they’re in love with so much as it is about how different they are from the person they truly love.
Lets be real: this is an excuse to write gender things for both of them and different time periods.
………………
They've both had their fair share of love, whether or not they'd like to admit it. At most points it was unrequited, as if the powers at be had intervened, as if the object of their affection had subconsciously realized that the person looking back at them, wanting them, was barely a person at all. They so frequently found each other after moments like these that it was almost laughable. It was as if they could sense each other's heartbreak and find each other without actively looking. This was how many drunk nights began over the millennia. Crowley would offer Aziraphale a glass of wine and they would spend the night on the couch, lamenting the loss of that which they craved most.
Heaven was a sterile place. Love abounded, sure, but in a way that was so pure that it may as well have been clinical. Aziraphale craved the messy, disastrous love that humans felt. It was the sort of love that brought people to irrational decisions, to taking risks they need not take. Love felt in stolen kisses and hugs so tight they hurt. The sort of love one wrote about in letters to a lover one had not seen in weeks when the ghost of their touch became so overwhelming that one put it on paper in the hopes of reliving it. He'd seen it before, in the shadowy corners of balconies after balls, pulling each other in by ones lapels with barely more than a sigh between each other's lips. He wants someone to love him so desperately, to crave his touch so fully, that they'd take the risks that came with their love. He understands that any relationship he seeks will be overshadowed by the fear of being caught, but oh how it would be worth the anxiety just to be kissed every morning and to be held every night.
Crowley, meanwhile, had once drunkenly outlined his exact intentions and needs when it came to relationships, although he'd deny it if asked. He wanted to be known and understood. He wanted someone who cared so deeply for him that they would take the time to unpack the layers of hurt and dismantle the multitude of walls he'd built between himself and others, brick by brick. Someone who would put up with his shifting moods and ever changing physical form. Someone who would pry his insecurities from his cold heart and stitch him back together, lighter this time. He craved being wanted by someone who knew his mistakes, who had seen him at his worst, who knew his true nature and stayed. Someone who knew they were dating a demonic entity but loved him all the same. To be loved unconditionally, graciously, in a way She had never loved him.
………………
“Did you love him?” The angel asks as he looks over the contours of a jawline, brushing along it with only the most reverent touch, too scared to ruin something already so precious and one of a kind. There was a certain intimacy that came with seeing a sketch, a certain power coupled with the ability to hungrily take in every tentative line, see every rushed brush of charcoal, every erased or faded drawing. It was like seeing the inner workings of one’s mind. Somewhere, in the space between them both, that feeling has settled over Crowley and Aziraphale. On the aged ash flooring of a quiet back storage room in a lavish but closed London bookstore sit a myriad of sketches on faded yellowing paper.
Small notes litter the corners of them. Aziraphale picks out the elegant curves of Crowley’s handwriting, fading words forming both exclamations of appreciation for the artworks they reference or for the artist himself.
What an honor to be seen this way through your eyes.
He picks out the teasing and self deprecating scratch of the artist’s replies.
What a shame I will never be able to fully portray your beauty on canvas and, thus, another shame these will never be finalized.
“I did,” comes the reply to a question since forgotten. Aziraphale looks up then, takes in the very real, sharp lines of the demon before him and he knows. He knows the intimate inner feelings of the artist then, understands almost spiritually what his words mean. I will never be able to fully portray your beauty. A bittersweet smile forms on Aziraphale’s lips and he wonders which of the many thoughts running through his mind are its source.
“Did you tell him?”
He wonders why he asked this. He doesn’t want to know what could have been between the demon before him and the artist who has long since been buried. His eyes refocus on the sharp fingers tinged with sepia tones. He wonders if Leonardo ever truly understood to whom those fingers belonged. Did he know what they were made of, what they had done, what they were capable of? Did he know that they could manipulate the very fires of Hell, could bring down entire empires with a single touch? Did he know they were capable of saving an angel more times than either of them could count? Did he know that they had once comforted shaking stowaways on an ark, carried children even God had condemned and brushed away their tears?
“No.”
Aziraphale took in the impossible fondness of amber eyes on fading paper and wondered how one could be on the receiving end of such a gaze, how one could record it so perfectly on paper, and not understand its meaning.
“Couldn’t. Hell really wanted the whole Leonardeschi. Biggest and brightest minds of the 15th century or some shit like that. Couldn’t really hoard him. Besides, he already had a little demon in his life by the time things picked up between us, a beauty he could finally portray on canvas, I guess. Modelled John the Baptist and Bacchus.”
Aziraphale picks up the bile in Crowley’s tone. All that’s left is a small folder of sketches and the worry that something could have been.
“I think…” Aziraphale starts, but everything he wants to say feels completely inadequate. “Even if it had been possible and you had not been on a job, would it have been everything you wanted it to be? Would he understand you, Crowley, really? Between his inventions and his publications and his artwork, I doubt he would ever have had the time to truly come to know someone or love them.”
Crowley takes in the sketches and remembers, for the first time since they were made, how much he wished the artist would regard him with as much fondness as he did his likeness.
………………
"I've never seen it, actually," Crowley says. They're wandering about the halls of Papal treasures, holding polite conversation now that the discussions regarding their agreement had long since ended. Crowley had done his part and confirmed that the next Pope functioned in a space somewhere between wishy-washy and completely incompetent. He'd sign whatever Crowley or Aziraphale pressured him into signing as needed, and that would be that. A happy sort of medium that they would eventually come to regret.
But, for now, a soft sort of satisfaction settled over them both and something about soon having a seemingly easily swayed Pope in power reassured them both.
The artwork was nice, too.
"Seen what?" Aziraphale asks as they walk and it would take a miracle (perhaps it’s multiple miracles, Crowley hasn’t been counting) to keep him from tripping on the artifacts littering the floor as his eyes focus solely on the intricate tapestries on the wall. He’s always loved the beauty of these pieces. They were never quite right (creation took more trial and error than God would have liked to admit, and the ark contained quite a few more stowaways courtesy of Crowley than any Bible would have you believe) but he loved them for their interpretations of memories he had come to cherish so deeply.
“The ceiling your artist is working on. Heard him bragging to mine that his work is almost done.”
Aziraphale’s cheeks flush. “How much did...my artist tell your artist?”
Crowley grins, all teeth and mirth like he’s cornered Aziraphale without the angel even noticing. But the angel knows, all too well, that this is a game. Crowley will take any excuse to see him embarrassed and Aziraphale will get an excuse to tease him back.
“Leo says your piccolo Michelangelo told him that you posed for him. Albeit in an unconventional context. Is it true?”
Aziraphale fiddles with his collar and wonders, suddenly, if this is the indulgence that finally gets him expelled from the priesthood. And to think that he was finally making progress on the Papal corruption... “Is what true?”
“C’mon, Aziraphale, you know. We’ve both had fun with this job,” he teases, stopping in the middle of the treasure-filled hall to rock onto the balls of his feet. “So tell me: did you, or has Michelangelo been lying to half of Rome about getting himself a literal angel?
Aziraphale looks down at his hands, mouth opening as if to speak before losing his nerve and twisting his fingers. His heart, being the nuisance that it is, feels like it’s attempting to lodge itself in his throat. If he were drunk, confessing to these sorts of things would have come easily and quickly. Besides, Crowley pays enough attention to the art-world gossip to likely know the answer to every question he plans on asking tonight. He’s likely just being nosy. It’s a game to him. Always is with these topics. He sighs, closes his eyes, and finally speaks. “Yes. But I’ll have you know that he’s been nothing but lovely and we’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now.”
The smirk on the demon’s face goes impossibly wider, a fact Aziraphale only registers a few seconds later when he hears it in his tone and opens his eyes to confirm its presence. “Wait, I’m talking about the fact that you posed for the Sistine. What are y-”
Wider still, somehow, as realization settles. “Oh, angel, this is so much better.” He grabs his arm and pulls him away, and Aziraphale makes to protest but the sound comes out as an unconvincingly disgruntled splutter. “We’re going somewhere we can actually talk and get drunk. Christ, Aziraphale, bet it was sappy too. Under his ceiling? Seeing the way he sees you?”
“Are you implying that I, a man of the cloth, committed a serious act of sacrilege on consecrated ground?” The argument is half-hearted, and they both know it, but it’s better than Aziraphale admitting that dripping paint was one of the major contributors to their deciding to move. “There’s a garden with a little secluded corner and he always finishes painting so awfully late and we were nearly a bottle in which I know doesn’t sound like much but the man is a bit of a lightweight so the bottle was mostly mine.” He takes a breath and bites back a fond little smile. “He said he wanted to see what I’d look like amongst the stars. He always was a romantic.”
Crowley, always the jealous realist, wonders if this romance doesn’t mean more to Aziraphale than it does to the aforementioned artist. The local artists with powerful names will smother you in thick layers of poetry and butter you up with handsome sketches and consume you until they find another, newer treat. But Aziraphale deserves to be happy and who is Crowley to determine how that happens? He maintains his smirk by sheer willpower. Aziraphale is a being of love, he’s probably right about this relationship.
But then he looks up to meet pale blue eyes, brimming with fondness as they swim through a memory that does not involve Crowley and he aches and he aches and he aches... He would trade in every fancy word and pretty sketch to have what Michelangelo has somehow gotten.
I have also wanted to know what you would look like amongst my stars.
………………
Crowley was nearly curled in on herself, leaning against the side of the couch with her eyes shut tight. It hadn’t been the worst rejection she’d ever handled, not really. But it was definitely right up there on the list of shittiest rejections she’d ever had. She didn’t know if it was better or worse that she’d looked hot when it had happened. She still did look hot, if she were honest, just with slightly smeared makeup from a rather self indulgent cry.
In her defense, she hadn’t started crying until she’d gotten to the hotel.
Aziraphale had seen a good amount of what had happened. She hadn’t intended to, honestly! She just happened to have picked the same day to go to the opera, and the same opera to see. It was a matter of taste, really. Some operas were just better than others. She had not, in any way shape or form, gone to spy on Crowley’s new love interest. But if she were to be honest (which she has been, this whole time!) she didn’t really see why Crowley had an interest in the lead actor. He was a touch short and his blond hair was a little blinding under the theatre lights. Furthermore, he was rather plain.
What Aziraphale didn’t see was the passion the otherwise common man was capable of demonstrating. They had discussed music and society. They had gotten drunk together at an afterparty for the opening night of one of his shows years prior and had spent the better part of the night avidly tearing apart the characterization of the love interest. Crowley didn’t take to people easily but this was different. The actor understood her interests and was just as deeply invested in every conversation Crowley had introduced. They’d built a rather firm friendship, even if there was something rather unorthodox about an actor and a lady of Crowley’s standing spending so much time together.
Alone.
The past few months had seen the rise of their names in the tabloids. He was the golden boy of the Viennese theatre community. She was a mysterious aristocrat without a husband who seemed to show up at all the right parties. They were sensational, the picture of a modern European love affair. Their names were whispered between members of Austria’s upper echelons, stirring cold jealousy in the hearts of partygoers and magazine readers alike. Some wanted their beauty, their money, their fame. Upper class women wanted a man who looked at them the way he looked at her, who held them the way he held her. Upper class men always had a thing for untouchable women. The headlines all but begged him to propose.
It should have worked.
He should have loved her.
He knew her, for Satan’s sake.
"Can you believe him, Aziraphale?" she says finally. Bitterness was seeping into her voice now that the hurt was gone. She didn't care. He was just human. He'd be dead in a matter of decades. He wasn’t even that pretty anyways (he was, dear lord how he was pretty) and she wasn’t sure why she was still crying. "'This has been fun.' Who does he think he is?"
"I’m sorry, dear,” Aziraphale says, feeling woefully inadequate in her words but mildly adequate in her choice of drink for the night. It didn’t quite feel like a wine night, so she’d ordered the strongest aged whiskey the hotel bar had on hand. She didn’t even bother with the crystal glassware the hotel had so diligently stocked in Crowley’s room. No sense giving Crowley something more to throw. She takes a long drink before handing the bottle to Crowley.
Crowley gulps the whiskey down, already a little drunk from the wine she’d shared with him earlier that night, but this is exactly what she needed. The burn to remind her that she’s still here, to take away any last taste of him on her lips. “I trusted him, Aziraphale, he knew. The first human I’ve ever been interested in who I told. Everything. He knows about us, who we are. All of it. Fucking hell, Aziraphale, both sides would murder me if they knew just how much I told him.”
Aziraphale wasn’t even angry. She knew it would eventually come to this. Crowley ached for someone who knew her in a way that, frankly, humans never would be able to. Because it extended beyond just knowing who or what she was. It required a certain understanding of what she’d seen and what she’d done that only someone with a similar experience would have. Someone like you, Aziraphale thinks, but such thoughts are unproductive and yearning for something she can’t have is a perfectly useless endeavor. She won’t. She can’t. They can’t, even if they both wanted. Which Crowley clearly didn’t, anyways. Seems we both want what we can’t have.
“Was that what did it? Him knowing what we are?” Aziraphale hears herself ask.
Crowley sighs, still holding the bottle and letting her head fall back on the arm of the couch. “Not at all. Makes it worse, doesn’t it? He accepted all the rest of it, knew for months and acted as if it changed nothing. But suddenly he realizes ‘oh, my co-star is pretty’ and everything he and I had goes out the window.”
She took another long drink, staring up at the ceiling and sighing. The tears are gone and in their place is a bubbling and deeply held hurt. “Stupid of me to think that I could be enough for him.”
Aziraphale takes the bottle and sighs before taking a sip, letting the alcohol loosen her tongue. “Stupid of him to think he was worthy of you, Crowley.”
………………
They've both had lovers before and it's never been a secret between them. If drunk enough they'll discuss their most recent ones, compare their merits, as Aziraphale blushingly calls them. There's a comfortable companionship in these discussions, most of the time. There's always a comedic edge to it that balances it out, a defense mechanism naturally built into the conversation that keeps it from becoming too serious too quickly.
But Aziraphale is quite drunk. Even more than usual.
"He's lovely, Crowley," Aziraphale sighs, wine sloshing onto the pale blue carpet, staining it a deep red as he lounges clumsily on the chaise. "He pulled me aside at the party after his new play's first performance, kissed me quite senseless. And the way he held me - oh lord. It was as if I was the single most important person in the universe, to be kissed as if his life depended on it. He takes things so achingly slow at first and then, as if realizing how precious little time he has, he's a flurry of desperation. Oh and he's so tall, dear."
Aziraphale sighs. Crowley is really fighting the urge to go find this man and pull just the wrong strings. Make him fall in love with a man he can't have, see how he feels about it.
Aziraphale's expression softens then, cheeks flushed and oh how Crowley wouldn't kill to have Aziraphale look like that as he thought of him.
"He writes to me," Aziraphale finally continues. "And I to him, but with nothing nearly as beautiful as his letters."
Crowley closes his eyes, laying sideways on his chair with the hopes that he can shut out the lovesick look on Aziraphale's face. There's the sound of the glass being set on Aziraphale's end table with a tinge too much clumsy force. It's followed by a ruffle of papers.
"'It is a marvel that those rose leaf lips of yours should be made no less for the madness of music and song than for the madness of kissing'," Aziraphale reads aloud. His voice has become soft, the tone awfully fond, and Crowley feels the jealousy clogging every crevice of his heart. Aziraphale, however one to be obsessed with love and romance, has never been one to keep a lover for so long. But he shares mutual interests with this one and he always has been weak for poetry. The mortal has Aziraphale wrapped around his little finger and it's sickening that anyone would take advantage of Aziraphale's need for affection.
(If he were playing fair, Crowley would admit that Aziraphale likely has this...person wrapped around his finger instead of the other way around. But he's never been one for playing fair.)
"I do…" Aziraphale starts, wetting his lips as he tries to think of what to say, how best to express to Crowley how much this newfound romance has come to affect him. Crowley dreads Aziraphale's next words. "I do believe he loves me, Crowley."
"That's impossible," Crowley says coldly, catching himself by surprise but not missing a beat. He's not feeling forgiving today. Hearing Aziraphale wax poetic about this new, handsome, successful stranger has left Crowley feeling less than obliging to his fantasies.
Aziraphale sits suddenly, brows furrowed and accidentally knocking his glass to the ground. If he's noticed, he doesn't pay it any mind. The angel looks utterly incensed. "Might I ask why someone harboring affection for me is so incredible to you?"
Because I'm the only one who will ever understand you.
"He's in love with the other chap. The blond boy, fifteen years his junior. You know the one." He's being cruel, he knows. But Aziraphale is also, describing in detail every merit his lover possesses as if Crowley weren't right there.
Aziraphale rises then, and Crowley tries to swallow down his regret as he takes notice of the way his angel's hands shake.
"Why can I not have one good thing without you coming to take it from me, Crowley? Can you not refrain from reflecting your own insecurities on me? What is it, your own fear that you will never be loved?"
He storms out the door and Crowley feels like he's been punched in the gut.
He’s right.
………………
Crowley did a rather good job in the 80's. Things were a lot more lax when it came to indulgences. If you had the money for it, you could have anything your heart desired, from cocaine to a harem. You could own mansions and islands and have the net worth of entire countries. If you were good enough, you could have fans that numbered in the millions and could perform for hundreds of thousands of people worldwide at the click of a button. There was an excitement, an understanding that the world had changed irreversibly and, with it, had brought a myriad of new and exciting possibilities.
And the parties. Oh how they’d changed. The music was louder and the dancing less rigid with each passing year. It had all become more raw over time until it was more about the feeling it gave you than its inherent meaning and, with that, the lyrics had become more daring as if begging you to object. Crowley never did. This exciting debauchery was absolutely his element.
But it had isolated Aziraphale.
Aziraphale had liked dance halls and had even accompanied Crowley to them on multiple occasions. They would get drunk and push the other into dancing with a local until, towards the end of the night, they would sort of fall into step together and finish off a song by dancing a tinge too close, just the angel and the demon. It was...nice, easy. It followed conventions Aziraphale was accustomed to while still being new enough to entice Crowley. Somehow, the dance hall scene had become a perfect place to meet where they could just be themselves for a few hours a week, press the boundaries of what they were meant to be without shattering them completely.
Their decline came with the advent of more modern clubs and, with it, the expectation of more forward behaviours. While Aziraphale was capable of adjusting to some facets of the new music scene, he had difficulty adjusting to social interactions not governed by certain...rules of engagement.
Besides, the music was loud. They couldn’t talk in clubs and really Aziraphale worried he couldn’t keep Crowley properly entertained otherwise.
So Crowley had spent his nights out for the better part of the last decade on his own.
Which was fine.
He could pick up rock stars, famous actors, the inconceivably rich for a night. He didn't have to worry about whether Aziraphale got home alright or if Aziraphale approved or if Aziraphale had gone home with someone worth his time. He didn't have to worry about Aziraphale's disapproval when he got too drunk or high (or both). He most certainly didn't have to worry about accidentally telling Aziraphale about all the feelings he's been repressing since the dawn of time itself.
(Because sometimes, just sometimes, he hears a song that reminds him of Aziraphale and wonders what it would be like to gather him up then, dance and drink the night away with him until they both had enough of an excuse to lean in for a taste of the alcohol on each other’s lips. They had done so before on a rare handful of occasions during the dance hall scene when they both thought that they wouldn’t remember in the morning. But they always did. Crowley always awoke to a ghost-like memory of Aziraphale’s lips on his and a longing in his chest that hadn’t quit since Eden. He always woke to the hope that maybe, for once, he hadn’t gone too fast for Aziraphale.)
He quickly downs another shot before leaning back into the couch to take in the sight of Britain’s most famous, eyes skimming over the crowd in the search for someone of interest.
(Is that what his relationships have always been? Finding someone interesting to take the edge off a constant ache?)
He spots someone with the same soft touch, the same decadence. He’s wrong in every other way but Crowley will gladly cling to what little he has. He knows this person, too. He knows his dreams and aspirations, knew of him since he was barely a performer, since before Hell had decided it had to have him. He gets to his feet and saunters over in a way that betrays just how many shots he’s had. The way he falls into his lap, haphazard and a little desperate, grabbing the open bottle in his hand to take a sip before kissing him like his life depends on it, doesn't help his case.
The man’s lips part a touch too quickly, too eagerly, like he’s lovestruck for someone just out of reach but taking what he can get. If Aziraphale can sense love, Crowley, it seems, can sense heartbreak. They both want someone they cannot have and, at least in this, perhaps Crowley can finally be understood by someone other than Aziraphale.
………………
Aziraphale has decided, genuinely this time, that there is nothing he despises more than researchers touching his books. There is nothing wrong in the way they do it. They are reverent, all feather-light touches masked with soft white gloves, prying open older books with patience so as not to damage their already cracking spines. They touch the book only when they must. Only to open it, to close it, to flip a page, to set it back in its place. They appreciate it fully in a way Aziraphale understands well. The way the scent of their age settles on you, reminds you that it is a product of a time so different from yours that you are here to study it. You are seeing, albeit briefly and only in part, the intricacies of someone else’s life with every page that you flip. They inhale it, its scent, its meaning, every single time they come to the small SoHo shop to do research.
They are respectful. Aziraphale doesn’t hate them.
The man he hates is the head researcher, a man in his mid 40s who sometimes comes in looking like he’s survived the very topic of study he came in to ask Aziraphale about. He’s just as kind with the books. He knows some of them nearly as well as Aziraphale does. Unlike his students, he comes and goes when he pleases, knocks on Aziraphale’s door at ungodly times of night and asks to flip through first edition Bibles Aziraphale has never let anyone see.
He always says yes.
He sits next to him now, watches the way his fingers ghost over the words that he seems to understand almost as deeply as Aziraphale does. And Aziraphale watches and wonders how it must feel to be so swept off one’s feet as the researcher has been by this book.
Oh how he wants and wants and wants. He wants the ghost of those fingers on his face, in his hair. He wants to be revered, to be studied, to be found valuable in this man’s eyes. But they’ve settled into something too comfortable and the wisps of the professor's want have long since been tucked away. Aziraphale frequently forgets what it feels like to be wanted in return.
"Exquisite copy. The lettering is truly phenomenal and the very history these pages carry with them? Intoxicating."
The man understands his passion, shares it even, in a way no one ever has before. He somehow steals the very words from Aziraphale's lips before Aziraphale has even managed to formulate them.
But he will never quite love the angel in the way Aziraphale so desperately needs.
………………
Crowley, Aziraphale has found, does not fully understand him. Crowley listens to Aziraphale talk about books he will never comprehend, with a fervor he will never share, tied to memories he does not possess. He sees the carefully maintained Victorian outfits but will never quite comprehend the beauty Aziraphale sees in them. He teases Aziraphale for his sweet tooth, his decadences, his near-obsession with fine wine. He will never fully understand him in the way that some of his past partners have.
But he doesn’t need that. Aziraphale needs someone who will listen despite the confusion, who will compliment outfits they would never wear, who will tempt him with the things he craves. Not because he himself loves these things or wants them or shares in his interest, but because he wants and loves to see Aziraphale happy through them. How desperately has he wanted to be wooed in this way? For how long? This much, he still doesn’t know. But had he been more attentive, he may have noticed that Crowley had smiled during every single literature-induced rant Aziraphale has gone on, has instigated every indulgence, and has called him show-stopping at every opportunity. Crowley has swept him right off his feet and Aziraphale has been perfectly blind to it until now.
“Angel?”
His breath still catches in his throat with every pet name, as it has for millennia, but now even more so with the promises they bring.
“Yes dear?”
The head on his lap shifts a bit, looking up with such adoration that Aziraphale wonders how on earth he managed to miss this. How on earth did he think that anyone else over the last six thousand years could love him as thoroughly as the demon currently lounging in his lap?
He trails his fingers through auburn curls and watches Crowley’s eyes flutter shut and a small smile curl onto his lips. Beautiful.
“Run away with me?”
Crowley has loved before. He has loved over and over and over and each time one love ended, he worried he might never love again. But each time he was never quite loved back. He was loved in a most superficial way: a muse, a distraction, a source of entertainment. He could be worshipped and revered but never wanted, at least not sufficiently to warrant any attempt at understanding him, connecting with him. The humans could never satisfy this need. Even those that came closest and learned the most. Because it was so much more than a matter of knowing.
It was Aziraphale skipping over old scars when they touched because he knew they carried with them more emotional pain than physical. It was Aziraphale enveloping him in a tight embrace because he hadn’t picked up the angel’s calls all day and something had to be wrong. It was Aziraphale offering to read aloud to him because Crowley had shown interest in the story the angel had rambled on about one day, but struggled to focus on the words on the pages. It was Aziraphale in every little touch and every little gesture and every little word over six millennia, all coming together now in the softest scrape of nails against Crowley’s scalp, leaving him breathless with the sheer adoration of it.
It was Aziraphale, in every slow-forming crack in the walls Crowley had so diligently built since his fall, like water grinding stones into sand.
Pale blue eyes crinkle in the corners. The soft sound of laughter leaves Crowley feeling lost for words.
“Where to, my dear? Alpha centauri?”
Crowley comes up to kiss him, slowly, living for the pressure of rose-leaf lips against his own and savouring the wine-sweetened taste. They commit every press of lips to memory. Reverent, self indulgent. Soft fingers paint along a sharp jawline and tangle their way into the hair at the base of Crowley’s neck. He pulls back and all but sighs into the breath between their lips.
“I have always wanted to know what you would look like amongst my stars.”
#crowley#aziraphale/crowley#aziraphale x crowley#crowley x aziraphale#Aziraphale#good omens#good omens fanfiction#good omens fanfic#good omens fic#fluff#past relationships#lots of time periods#my writing#Ineffable Husbands#ineffable husbands fanfiction#ineffable husbands fic#ineffable wives#ineffable wives fanfiction
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The Weaver's Wound （Retelling Greek Myths)
The Weaver's Wound
纺殇
“Arachne! No!”
I grasped her sleeve, pulling her back from the confrontation.
But Arachne stood her ground, obstinately refusing to back down. She glared at the goddess with her piercing dark eyes, scoffing: “Oh, almighty goddess, are you afraid of a fair contest? Or do you fear that your skills are no match for mine?”
The goddess blazed with fiery energy, golden waves of magical power that rushed through her body bursting forth to cast an aura of raging fury. In her clear, bright eyes, blasts of anger fleeted across the grey pupils, which were masked by smoky clouds of scornful distaste. A storm of divine wrath was swirling in the goddess’ eyes—a tempest of godly scale, a catastrophe that no mortal could ever withstand.
The daughter of Zeus silently threatened to blow Arachne up with her father’s lightning.
“Stop it, Arachne!” Desperate with fear, I tugged at her sleeve again, shouting louder. “Do NOT offend the gods!”
“Oh, foolish girl!” A man in the crowd yelled with despair, “Arachne, listen to your friend!”
“Get off me,” my friend shook herself out of my grasp, her face etched with lines of annoyance. She would not be dissuaded from her folly, and she would never allow anyone to wound her pride, particularly, in public.
The goddess gritted her teeth, dignified even in her worst temper. She trembled at Arachne’s audacious affront—in extreme terror, I was for an instant shocked by what I found—the goddess and my friend were so alike, in their both valuing others’ opinion of themselves, in priding themselves to be the best. They took no insult; and would do anything to restore their perceived images of being absolutely invincible.
“Very well,” the goddess said coldly, her face a plain slab of alabaster, on it veins of rosy streams shone lightly against the blinding flashes flaring all around her body—even in rage, her face was breathtakingly beautiful; her anger only added a tinge of red to her flawless, ivory face, softening her stern features and making her complexion glow in gentler radiance. She glimmered with danger, and strength, but stunningly so.
Athena continued, her eyes only on my friend, “child, I accept your challenge.”
“NO!” I screamed, trying once again to drag Arachne away from Athena. “No, powerful Athena! Have mercy! Arachne didn't mean it! She…”
“Go away, Celia,” Arachne scolded me, and stepped forward to face Athena, “I meant it; and I still mean it. I want to compete with you.”
“This CANNOT be!” An old man beside me knelt, quivering in horror, “Oh, Athena! Forgive this foolish girl! How can a mortal ever challenge a goddess!”
“I CAN!” Arachne was on the verge of tears, her whole body shivering with disbelief and rage, “I WILL challenge Athena!” And she turned to the goddess, who was also shaking with anger, “as long as she is willing to.”
“I WILL.” Athena said, and waved her hand at all the rest of us, who knelt around her and watched her exchange with Arachne in fear, “Do NOT stop me. I’ve made up my mind. This girl is so proud of her skills—I want to see how good she really is. ”
“No…” I would not give up on my friend! I couldn't bear witnessing her suffering at the hands of Athena! “Athena, mercy! Mercy…”
The goddess dismissed my plea with a lukewarm smile.
“Let all Gods and Men bear witness!” Athena cried, her spear suddenly burning with light. At the centre of the town square, two identical looms materialised, sparkles gleaming off the golden structures. Two baskets where threads in a dazzling assortment of colours and shades were placed neatly stood beside the looms. Athena raised her spear, as if she was giving a signal to the other gods on Mount Olympus. Lightening slashed across the darkening sky; and the nearby sea roared in defiance. The plants all around the square were shuddering, their leaves and flowers trembling in anticipation. The livestock trotted near the crowd nervously; dogs barked; and birds screeched.
Oh, I thought, the gods are all watching: Zeus blasted lightening to show his concern; Poseidon raised the ocean. Hera, Demeter, Artemis, Apollo… ALL of them. It was not a matter of a simple contest between Arachne and Athena; it was a competition about skills and strength between all Mortal Men and the Mighty Olympian Gods.
And Arachne would not stand a chance.
Athena turned to Arachne, her eyes glittering with disdain. They seemed to chide: you proud girl, apologise, and confess your incapability before all the gods!
No one would have dared to stare into the goddess’ blazing eyes; but Arachne, my proud friend, did. She didn't even flinch.
“You want this? No problem,” Athena murmured. Then she turned to the grovelling crowd, and announced, “What we weave shall be the images of the Olympian Gods.”
The crowd shifted uncomfortably in universal despair—perhaps at the blatant unfairness of this supposedly “fair” contest—Arachne had not even met those gods in person, so how could she ever be able to create their likeness in her tapestry? Not to mention she was to compete with Athena, the goddess of artistic skills and clever crafts, the goddess who invented weaving in the first place, and who must have known how her fellow Olympians looked like well?
This isn’t fair! I wanted to scream and stand between Athena and Arachne, who were glaring at each other. Nothing but complete failure would await Arachne, and utter humiliation. My poor friend wouldn't stand all the pain and shame!
But again, since when were gods’ dealings with men fair? The Olympians were powerful, extremely so: one snap of their fingers could bring down entire cities—the sea might rise and swallow all humankinds on Poseidon’s orders; by Zeus’ will, the storms might pour flood that could devour stretches of land; the plants might all wither and die, should Demeter decide to punish mortals; men could not hunt for wild animals successfully without Artemis’ blessing. Apollo could easily scorch the earth with his sun chariot racing lower. Hera and Aphrodite could tear families and lovers apart. Ares could stir madness in men’s hearts and incite endless fighting. Hephaestus could simply force all the mechanical devices to a stop. Life could be wiped out from this earth, should mortals ever cross the gods.The gods control our fates. Our life, and our death. Even after death, we have to travel to the Underworld, cross the River Styx, and submit to Hades’ reign.We mortals are no match for the gods. Gods punish us for our pride, our blinding arrogance, and our foolish ego. Arachne was on her way to destruction.
The contest started.
I was almost blinded by the sight—flying fingers, nimble hands, shifting figures, cascading threads, whirling shuttles, blurry looms – their action were astoundingly rapid. It was more like a race of fingers. Upon the quickly forming tapestries two sets of fingers danced with such adroitness, it was pleasurable to watch, even in dread: Athena’s pale fingers twirled in graceful acrobatics, her movement light and lithe, animated by divine power; while Arachne’s tanned hands spun in smooth circles, interweaving strands into braids, matching dazzling colours. She was fuelled by pride and anger.
One hour passed. Two hours.
They finished their works at the same time.
The crowd stared at the two tapestries, and let out a collective gasp: how exquisite those two artworks were! That made by Athena depicted the Olympians in their regal state—silence fell upon the crowd as we inspected every detail—the gods had such gravitas that awed worship was most befitting: Zeus held his lightning bolts, donned in a majestic white robe. Hera sat beside him wearing her lotus crown, cloaked in silky peacock feathers. Athena herself stood next to Zeus, spear and shield in place, and the winged statue of the goddess of Victory, Nike, on her palm. The other gods were splendidly magnificent as well. At the corner, I saw, seven images of punishment—all of which were about gods turning disobedient, prideful mortals into animals—and I averted my eyes in alarm. Oh, Arachne!
The crowd turned to the work made by my friend. No doubt it was marvellous—the best I’ve ever seen—but it was flagrant blasphemy: Zeus abducting Europa by turning into a white bull; Poseidon seducing Demeter and consorting with her as a stallion with a mare, Zeus raping Ganymede in his eagle form… All about the gods’ indiscreet misadventures. The gods were beautiful, surely; but they were greedy, lusty and tyrannical—mortals were their slaves and toys.
Oh, Arachne! I was steeped in tears, worrying for her fate—she had spoken the unspeakable truth with glaring imagery.
Unbearable mockery. Intolerable pride.
She was doomed.
“Insolent creature!” Athena shrieked, mortified by the folly of her fellow gods. Fire burst from the tip of her spear, and burned Arachne’s work to tatters.
Arachne yelped in rage: “Athena! You ruined my best work! How…”
Before she finished, a blast of lightning struck her.
In the crowd children squealed in horror; women sobbed; and men covered their eyes.
Thunder rolled, and rain poured down. In the foggy light I saw my friend lying on the charred ground, her body unmoving amidst columns of rising smoke.
“Poor girl,” Athena sighed, recovering from shock at her father’s intervention. She considered her rival’s dead body, her eyes filled with pity.
“I’ve never wanted this,” she said slowly, “I’ve given you so many chances. I warned you, but you never heeded my advice. You had superb skills; but how could you offend the gods?”
Then, the goddess tapped Arachne’s body with her spear. A shimmer rippled across Arachne, and she shrank into a tiny, eight-legged insect with sleek, dark skin.
“Arachne, I shall let you weave, for eternity.”
- END -
#greek#greek posts#literature#pjo#short story#story#mythology#athena#annabeth chase#percy jackson#rome#culture#creativity#spiderweb#linguistics#word origins#language
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By Thomas Chatterton Williams July 20, 2018 LONDON — When the world first learned of Michael Jackson’s death, from an accidental overdose in 2009, the news had a whiff of unreality about it. This was in no small part because, for so long, it had been hard to remember that he was actually a person. A child prodigy who in adulthood became a genuine Peter Pan — fantastically refusing to grow old — Jackson was always more an idea than a human being in the flesh. Nearly a decade later, the shape-shifting body frozen in memory, his extraordinary image endures as if he never left. Now, an ambitious and thought-provoking new exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery in London, running through Oct. 21, seeks to measure the impact and reach of Jackson as muse and cultural artifact. “Michael Jackson: On the Wall,” curated by Nicholas Cullinan, sprawls without feeling bloated, occupying 14 rooms and bringing together the work of 48 artists across numerous media, from Andy Warhol’s instantly recognizable silk-screen prints and grainy black-and-white snapshots, to a vast oil painting by Kehinde Wiley. (Jeff Koons’s famous porcelain sculpture “Michael Jackson and Bubbles” is notably absent, though it is reinterpreted in several other pieces.) First the obvious: No artwork, however clever or pretty, that has been inspired by a talent the size of Jackson’s can compete with its source material. To get the most out of what this show has to offer it is best to acknowledge this at the entrance and move on, as the most successful pieces do, eschewing strictly aesthetic concerns and exploring instead Jackson’s conceptual possibilities. Consider for example one of the simplest works in the show, David Hammons’s 2001 installation, “Which Mike Do You Want to Be Like…?” The piece — full of wondrous pride even as it conjures a sense of depressing limitation — consists of three abnormally tall microphones and its title recalls the Holy Trinity of late-20th-century black American entertainment icons as set out by the rapper The Notorious B.I.G.: “I excel like Mike, anyone: Tyson, Jordan, Jackson.” (B.I.G.’s own guest feature on Jackson’s 1995 “History” album marked a crowning achievement in his career.) More than 20 years later, rappers still clamor for a Jackson co-sign. On “Scorpion,” his latest chart-topping release, Drake flexed the ultimate status symbol, having purchased the rights to unreleased vocals and scoring a posthumous feature with the King of Pop. Jackson, more than Tyson or even Jordan, so epitomized black excellence that Ebony magazine could unselfconsciously run an airbrushed image of him on the cover in 2007, his creamy skin and silky cascading hair framing a razor-sharp jawline, beside a headline reading “Inside: The Africa You Don’t Know.” A year after the singer’s death, Lyle Ashton Harris recreated that image on Ghanaian funerary fabric. It’s jarring to compare the real late-life M.J. with another imaginary iteration that Hank Willis Thomas appropriates in one of the show’s more shocking offerings, “Time Can Be a Villain or a Friend (1984/2009).” In this, we see an uncannily convincing, and wholesomely handsome rendition of Jackson with his natural skin tone, a pencil-thin mustache on his lip and an ever-so-lightly relaxed puff of hair on his head. Mr. Thomas explains in the catalog that it is simply an artist’s rendering from a 1984 issue of Ebony, a glimpse of what the magazine imagined Jackson would look like in the year 2000. Without any alteration, it is by far “On the Wall’s” most critical work — the image originally so full of pride and hope is now an indictment, and haunts the show like a scathing rebuke. In this post-post-racial, post-Obama era of resurgent populism and Balkanized identity politics, it really does feel as though it matters — and matters more than anything else — whether you’re black or white. It does make for a particularly fascinating moment to re-evaluate Jackson’s image as a fundamentally “black” but simultaneously racially transcendent figure, or a monstrous desecration, depending on your perspective. Indeed, there is a push and pull between these running through the exhibition and the catalog that accompanies it. In the catalog, the critic Margo Jefferson calls Jackson “a postmodern trickster god,” noting “what visceral emotion he stirred (and continues to stir) in us!” She anticipates, in the next pages, the novelist and essayist Zadie Smith’s castigating contribution. Ms. Smith writes of her mother’s initial preoccupation with the singer: “I think the Jacksons represented the possibility that black might be beautiful, that you might be adored in your blackness — worshiped, even.” But, she adds, “By the time I became aware of Michael — around 1980 or so — my mother was finished with him, for reasons she never articulated, but which became clear soon enough. For me, he very soon became a traumatic figure, shrouded in shame.” “It was as if the schizophrenic, self-hating, hypocritical and violent history of race in America had incarnated itself in a single man,” Ms. Smith concludes. This critique is at odds with the warmth with which many black people still hold the singer, particularly in the United States, where he remains enormously beloved. But it calls to mind the furious assault on Jackson’s racial credentials with which Ta-Nehisi Coates began a recent essay on Kanye West. “Michael Jackson was God, but not just God in scope and power, though there was certainly that, but God in his great mystery,” Mr. Coates writes. “And he had always been dying — dying to be white.” He continues: We knew that we were tied to him, that his physical destruction was our physical destruction, because if the black God, who made the zombies dance, who brokered great wars, who transformed stone to light, if he could not be beautiful in his own eyes, then what hope did we have — mortals, children — of ever escaping what they had taught us, of ever escaping what they said about our mouths, about our hair and our skin, what hope did we ever have of escaping the muck? And he was destroyed. Such criticism, however heartfelt and comprehensible, makes the mistake of reducing Jackson to the role of tribal ambassador in a society built on oversimplified and regressive notions of racial and gender identity that his own art and self-presentation never stopped pushing against. It occludes the far subtler and more interesting insights that a genius can provoke, and too confidently pigeonholes an individual who knowingly rejected the stifling limitations of his country’s artificial racial binary for a dupe. The man who wrote “We Are the World” and “Liberian Girl,” and proudly recreated Egyptian splendor in “Remember the Time,” had an idealistic and expansive view of our common humanity. His androgyny, too, helped shatter restrictive notions of black masculinity. One of the most counterintuitive and compelling contributions to “On the Wall” is Lorraine O’Grady’s series of four diptychs, “The First and Last of the Modernists (Charles and Michael).” Comprising blown-up found photographs of the 19th-century French poet Charles Baudelaire and Jackson striking similar poses and tinted in a variety of pastel hues, like many of the works here, these pieces deal inventively with the theme of mirroring. “When Michael died, I tried to understand why was I crying like he was a member of my family,” Ms. O’Grady explained in an interview at the show’s opening in June. “I realized the only person I could compare him to was Baudelaire,” she said, listing ambiguous sexuality and a proclivity for wearing makeup as commonalities. “But more importantly, they both had this exalted idea of the role of the artist,” Ms. O’Grady added. “If Baudelaire thought he tried to explain the new world he was living in to the people around him, Michael had an even more exalted vision: He felt that he was capable of uniting the entire world through his music.” In Ms. O’Grady’s view, Jackson didn’t simply try to become “white,” as his detractors would have it — rather he “crafted himself physically to appeal to every demographic possible,” she said. By the time of his death, Jackson had long been one of the most famous people on the planet, if not the most famous. The footage of his “Dangerous” tour in newly post-Ceausescu Romania, on display in an eerie loop, provides hallucinatory testament to his outrageous global reach. It is estimated that his memorial service at the Staples Center in Los Angeles reached at least a billion people worldwide. “The first of the new is always the last of something else,” Ms. O’Grady notes in the catalog. Baudelaire, she writes, “was both the first of the modernists and the last of the romantics.” And Jackson “may have been the last of the modernists (no one can ever aspire to greatness that unironically again) but he was the first of the postmodernists.” He was, perhaps, the first of the post-racialists, too. Yet in our hyper-connected age of heightened political consciousness and reactionary fervor, in which identity is both a weapon and a defense, that view of race can feel naïve. But this is a failure of our own imaginations and dreams, not his. As “On the Wall” makes clear, Jackson’s own face — through a combination of fame and relentless surgery — became a mask, reflecting our own biases and ideals while concealing a deeper truth. His art and lasting appeal, on the other hand, function as a reminder to consider our own disguises, and what we might gain by letting them go. Michael Jackson: On the Wall Through Oct. 21 at the National Portrait Gallery, London; npg.org.uk.
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Let Me Tell You a Tale where Justice Does Not Prevail
“You can’t do this.”
“I already have, Mr. Hook,” Fairy Godmother says firmly, though she’s starting to get unnerved by how murderous Harry looks. “The schedules have already been set—”
“Fuck that!” Harry snarls, slamming his hands down on her desk. “You told me I couldn’t wear my hook in class, I accepted that. But making sure that Uma and I don’t have any classes together? That’s low, even for your lot.” A dark sneer curls his lips. “What, are ye worried that we’re plotting against the kingdom or something?”
“No, that is not the reason that we decided to separate you two,” Fairy Godmother retorts, trying to keep her voice calm and measured. Though that was most of the teachers concerns . . . “I already told you, the school psychologist thinks that you and Miss Triskelion have an unhealthy co-dependence upon each other—”
“I don’t give a damn about your psycho-babble,” Harry hisses so venomously, that Fairy Godmother instinctively leans back. “And I especially don’t give a rats arse what anybody else thinks is best. Put us together.”
Fairy Godmother gives up on trying to have a neutral expression and scowls at him. “I’m sorry, but we’ve made our decision, and you’ll just have to accept that.”
Harry glares at her so darkly that it makes her itch to have her wand in her hand, but the boy merely warns, “You’ll regret this,” before storming out of the room, red coat billowing behind him.
“I’m sure I won’t,” Fairy Godmother mutters as soon as he’s out of earshot. A flicker of unease lights up in her stomach, but she dismisses it. Harry Hook is just a teenage boy with a crush. She has dealt with them before, and he is no different.
This will all be fine.
***
It’s not fine.
Harry insists on walking Uma to every class, and so each morning, Auradon Prep is treated to the sight of Harry carrying his bag and Uma’s while Uma launches into a speech about feminism and how chivalry is just an idea invented by the patriarchy, so put down her bags, Harry, or else.
Usually, this ends up with Uma chasing Harry and trying to get her bag back while he races ahead of her and taunts her.
“Come on, darling, you don’t want to be late to class!”
“Your class is literally on the other side of the school, you idiot.”
All of this results in Harry strolling into class five minutes late every morning, and then bolting from the room five minutes early so he can sprint across the quad and meet Uma as her class ends.
The first time he does this, Uma walks out the door and sees Harry trying to lean casually against the wall to disguise his ragged breathing.
She gives him a disapproving look as he grins brightly at her. “Walk you to class, love?”
Uma sighs, pulls out her water bottle, and tosses it at him. “You’re such a moron,” she complains as Harry immediately downs half the contents of the bottle.
“Mr. Hook, please just step into class,” Professor Selwyn says tiredly, eyeing them wearily from behind her desk.
“No can do, teach,” Harry replies indifferently, slinging his arm around Uma’s shoulders. “I’m putting all of that chivalry bullshit to work – we can’t let young ladies walk all by themselves across the quad, can we?”
Selwyn rolls her eyes. “I’m sure Miss Triskelion is more than capable of walking across the quad by herself without your assistance.”
“I have been told I have weak ankles,” Uma says with an evil smile. “I might trip and fall, and then where would I be?” she casts a mock-sad glance down at her heels, which elevate her off the ground by at least five inches.
Harry shakes his head solemnly. “Miss, I cannot in good conscience let her risk herself so recklessly.”
Uma gives him a surprised grin. “You’ve been studying the vocab?”
“Doug made me flashcards,” Harry admits, and then snatches Uma’s bag out of her hands. “Just let me get that for you—”
“Give me my bag!” Uma protests, grabbing for the strap of her messenger bag, but Harry shakes his head.
“No way, you might break your fragile arms or something—”
“You little bitch—” Uma yanks the bag out of Harry’s hands and takes off with surprising speed for someone wearing heels. Harry chases after her, yelling, “This is not what chivalry is about!”
Selwyn thinks longingly of winter break and the ski trip that her wife Diana is always insisting that they should take, and briefly considers locking the door so the irritating boy won’t be able to get in when he comes back. Gods knew he wouldn’t care.
When Fairy Godmother calls Uma to her office to ask her to encourage Harry to stop walking her to class, the girl fixes her with a cool stare and reminds her that it was their decision to not let Harry in any of her classes, and that she cannot control him. She concludes this by telling her coldly that even if she could control him, she would never do it for something as sweet as this.
“Him walking me to class is one of the only nice acts that has happened to me in my life, are you really going to take that away from me?”
So she is forced to let the walking to class continue, but tells the teachers that they should not refrain from any sort of punishment, since he is breaking the rules, after all.
Harry racks up ten detentions over the course of the week due to his tardiness and leaving early, and he pins the angry pink slips to the door of the room that he shares with Doug. The dwarf’s son sighs when he sees it, but doesn’t do anything else. Harry might leave his clothes everywhere and snore all night long, but he once threatened to punch Chad after he had mocked Doug’s short stature, so the pirate is alright in his book.
Fairy Godmother is convinced that detention will be enough of a threat to make Harry behave, because if even Mal tries to stay on the straight and narrow to avoid detention, baking with Merryweather will break his spirit into small pieces and leave it whimpering sadly on the floor. (Dear Gods, she has been hanging around too many villain children.)
However, baking obviously doesn’t scare Harry as much as it does Mal. He slips marijuana into the batch of cupcakes that he and Merryweather bake, and no one finds out until it is much too late, and Merryweather has released a stampede of unicorns into the school.
(Trying to take away unicorns from a group of twelve year olds led by Dizzy Tremaine had not been fun.)
(Nor had the situation been made any better when Uma started insisting that the place where they were sending the unicorns was known for animal experimentation.)
(She has never seen Chad Charming so passionate about anything in his life than when he was arguing with her about animal experimentation and threatening to call his lawyers if she didn’t send the unicorns to good homes.)
Harry has to sweep up all of the glitter and rainbow dust, but even that punishment backfires because the next day, two of Uma’s crew, Ashe and Sierra, are selling objects covered in rainbow glitter that they claim have been blessed by unicorns.
So that has to be stopped immediately, because the children end up throwing the glitter-covered rocks at each other in order to activate their 'unicorn powers’.
It frustrates her that Harry isn't at all fazed by their punishments. When she orders him to assist the surly art professor in cleaning up the art wing, she is sure that this will make him compliant. Professor de Villiers has been known to make students cry with his scathing critiques and sharp comments, so she is sure that he will be significantly less trusting of Harry than Merryweather.
But when Fairy Godmother goes down to the art wing to see how they're progressing, she sees Harry painting a giant silver skull on the wall and she cannot repress a shriek of horror.
“What are you doing?”
Harry spins around, a smirk fixed on his face, but then a deep voice booms out, “Verity! I didn't know you would be joining us.”
The professor is walking towards them, holding a bucket of water and a huge paintbrush, and he walks over next to Fairy Godmother.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He muses to Fairy Godmother, while she tries not to gape at him. “With a bit of refining, he could be almost as good as the princess of Corona.”
Harry scoffs. “Refining? Old man, this is street art, it doesn’t need to meet your approval,”
She half-expects de Villiers to open his mouth and swallow Harry whole, but he just laughs. “Ah, to be young and arrogant again, eh, Verity?”
Harry makes a rude gesture at de Villiers, and then they both grin at each other, which just seems to make the pounding in her head even stronger.
“B-but the w-walls -”
“Yes, it's wonderful, isn’t it? Instead of just hanging artwork on the walls, it would save paper and materials to simply just paint on the wall.”
Fairy Godmother can feel her magic fluttering nervously under her skin, but she makes sure to keep her voice strong when she says, “But a skull, Byron? I'm just not sure -”
“Nonsense,” de Villiers replies dismissively. “The students could stand to benefit from being exposed to different art styles, and Mr. Hook’s art is a prime example of that! In fact, I was thinking of taking him on as my apprentice for the year . . .”
As de Villiers continues to rave about Harry, Fairy Godmother looks at the boy. Harry raises an eyebrow at her smugly, as if to say see, I told you that you would regret this.
For the first time since she's started teaching at the school, Fairy Godmother seriously considers retirement.
It's going to be a long year . . .
#harry x uma#harry hook x uma#uma x harry hook#huma#uma daughter of ursula#uma descendants#harry hook#uma's crew#fairy godmother#doug descendants#chad charming#chad descendants#dizzy tremaine#auradon prep#descendants 2#disney descendants#creature feature lyrics
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Story Two: Fucks High; School for Furries and Drug Lords (Pt. 3)
The Finale to the Kronicals of Rebecca Swansin. It ends as it began; making absolutely no sense whatso ever.
chapter 24 the new villain
Asahi: You’re adding a third villain before you solve any of your other villain problems?
AN: I did some artwurk for rebecca enjoi it! tel me wat u think abut it!
Briar: I am thankful that we don’t see the artwork. I know nothing of your art skill, but I don’t want the mental image I have of Rebecca to be shattered.
I got the estate which I looked at. It was a freaking beautiful shade of blue which reminded me of a cloudless summers day [AN: REBECCA IS SMART SHE READ SHAKESPEARE].
Cherry: Cloudless summers day has nothin’ to do with intelligence, literally anyone can relate a shade of blue to a time of year.
Asahi: Is she trying to reference A Midsummers Night Dream? Not really my favorite when it comes to Shakespeare.
I smiled on the side contordedly. I stood agast because the sight was so great to see!
Briar: I don’t think “Aghast” is the right word to use in this context, unless you really are horrified by the house.
The walls of the estate were red because the Collins love blood and really tall to ward off Mexicans.
Asahi: Racism. Nice.
Cherry: Didn’t ya just say that it was a “beautiful shade of blue”?
Finally we entered the compownd through the gates and we saw the house. It was at least 10 times bigger than my own house (before it burned down). I felt a ping of sadness growing expectantly in my heart from the void where I lost my house. But I had to go on and do good things to make up for my past sins.
Briar: At least you’re trying to do good.
Asahi: Trust me, that ‘I must do good things’ bit will stop as soon as Bella shows up.
I saw a homeless person on my right as we enterd. Determined to do good I have him money so that he could start a new life. It was a lot of money. Trust me.
Cherry: Thought their house was s’possed to be secluded. Ya know? Give em the privacy to be who they are an away from prying eyes. So why’s a homeless dude all the way over there?
Anyways then we went into the hose but then we went right back out to see Edowerd's gazeebo.
"This is the Gazebo" edowrd said pointing at the gazebo.
Asahi: And this is the Department of Redundancy Department.
It was a huge gazeebo outside near the beyutiful flowers. It was cloudy and sunny through the parts of the sky that weren't cloudy.
Cherry: So is it cloudy or not?
A single beam of light appeard and glinted down on me. It was simbolic of me being a gud person deep down [AN: STOP HATING ON REBEKA SHES NOT A BAD PURSON SHES ACSHUALLY MISUNDERSTUD!].
Briar: Ah, no. No, she’s not a good person.
Asahi: That’s just God focusing in on her so that he doesn’t miss when he brings down the meteor.
"It is a nice Gazebo!" I said happily but falsely. What edowerd didn't know is that I was starting to forgive him for his trespasses against me.
Cherry: Edward did nothin’ wrong!
Then we went inside the gazebo. It had beautiful Roman and Greek arcitecture which assured me of the Collin's wealth.
Briar: I’m noticing that she really likes to use the word ‘Assured’.
Asahi: Huh, now that you mention it, it is overused a lot.
"Now let's see the house" Alicica said. We walked past the drug lab were Alicia made her gods when she wasn't at school.
Cherry: Why struggle to find a God when ya can make one in your own basement?
Ever since she invented a cure for aids she was richer than anyone could ever imagine.
Asahi: She cured AIDS? Huh, that’s actually a really good thing. I’m glad. Though I’m worried she’s overcharging for it like America does for EpiPens.
Briar: Kind of…specific.
Asahi: Just a jarring example of American greed. An EpiPen costs over six-hundred dollars over in Cherry’s country. Here in Japan? Eight-thousand yen—er, that’s about… seventy-four dollars or so.
Cherry: Yeah… kind of a big price gap.
We went inside the Collins hose. It was HUGE. It had a TV and a kitchen and a table and everything.
Briar: As opposed to houses that don’t have a table or kitchen.
Then Alice took me up to her bedroom and gave me new clothes as she prepared her rum for having 2 people.
Asahi: Except she shares her room with Jasper, her boyfriend/husband. So really, we’re looking at her preparing her room to have three people.
Edowerd and jakub couldn't cum up because their boys and boys shouldn't be in girls rums [AN: you here that you sickos].
Briar: But Jasper, her husband, is an exception.
Anyways Alicia gave me a pink turtleneck with sleeves to the hands and a red catholic schoolgirl miniskirt and black pantyhose. It looked so god with my purple raven hare with golden streaks.
Cherry: She got to mention the rabbit every time?
Asahi: I feel bad for it, Rebecca dyed it’s fur and then painted a gold streak through it.
Tanishashanqua also equips something like that she had a white dress shirt with blue kaki jeans with shoes. Alicia stilt kept on her drug dealer uniform. After that we all made fiendship bracelets so that we would know that we would never abandoned one another ever agin.
Briar: Give it a few chapters.
Asahi: I find it amusing that Tanishashanqua and Alicia got a single sentence each for their clothes.
"Yo homie this shit be gold" tanishashanqua seed happily.
"Okay guys let's see the rest of the house" I said. If it weren't for me reminding everyone of everything we would never get places on time.
Cherry: Actin’ like yer friends are dumb, that aint a ‘good person’ thing.
Then Alice showed us the Bathroom on the basement floor. There was also a winery and a gym and a basketball curt.
Briar: That’s a big basement.
Cherry: Ya get drunk out of your mind, an then ya play some basketball.
Then on the middle basement floor there was a secret passage to the Armory. Then Alice showed us the dungeon.
Asahi: They have an armory and a dungeon? This is Sims level of basement design.
"Guys don't let Esme know that I showed you this" Alice said qualitly. We all shook our heads in assumption so she would know that we wouldn't betray.
Briar: ‘Assumption’ isn’t quite the word you’re looking for.
Asahi: I think you’re trying for ‘assured’ again.
Then we saw the videoguming rum. It was nice and big. Then I saw EDowerd's piano. Rossey's room had lots of guns and ammo and grenades. Alicia's room had lots of pink.
Cherry: Ya coulda just used the wiki to know what the house was like instead of makin’ up shit.
Cherry: Though, Rosalie’s room sounds awesome.
"This doth be Emmets Roometh" Edowerd sed as we entered Emmet's rum. It was dark with pink stripes. Emmet was listening to Lady Gage's "Born this way". I would have moshed with him to the music but only fucking stupid Goths and emo shits mosh. So instead we all danced normally.
Asahi: Ah, insulting goths and emos. Still proving that you’re not a good person.
But suddenly there was a HUGE FUCKING NOISE from the front of the house!
"OPEN UP MOTHERFUCKERS" said the door!
Briar: “How about we don’t!” the wall retorted.
"SHIT! THE COPS!" Alicia said as she got her gun out.
"No wait let me talk to them" Jacobo said. Then he took off his shirt and opened the door. There were two more cops.
Cherry: Shirtless Jacob, surefire way to get rid of all cops.
"Hello Rebecca. We are here to say sorry. We couldn't find Chadley's murderer. We thought that there might be evidence in the murder sene but now the Murder Scene has been burned down! Do you know who did it?" They asked.
Asahi: The culprit for both is Rebecca.
Jakub nodded towards me. I remember that before he said it was okay to do bad things but only if they were for good reasons. So I lied.
"It was esme." I said. Edowerd and Tanishashanqua and Alicia and Jacob all nodded chalantly.
Briar: You know I don’t quite understand why Esme is getting such hate. It’s nothing compared to the hate Bella gets, but Esme was a genuinely nice person for the most part.
"Bitch please" Someone who looked like Esme said as she went into the room. Then she took out a knife and stabbed the two cops and then ate them. It was... ESME!
Cherry: So the chick who looked like Esme and ate the cops really was Esme. Shocker.
Esme was standing there all eviliy and everything. She was dressed in a business women's suit and was easily taller than jakub. She had a black dress on too.
Asahi: Is she wearing a dress or a business suit?
Briar: She’s wearing the dress over the suit, maybe?
She had dark golden hair which went down to her back and also had leopard highlights. Her front tooth was missing but we didn't bring it up. Not even Rosalie because even Rosalie was afrade of that mega fuckking egotistical biotch Esme.
Cherry: Seriously, what did Esme do wrong here? She’s a nice person.
"By the way you bitches all need to go back to school tommorrow." Esme sed.
"What!? Why!?" Alice asked
"Shit's fucked up yo. People be dead and shit." Tanishashanqua sed.
Asahi: And whose fault is that?
"Too bad you bitches. I'm the new prinsipul and I say that school goes back tomorrow. And I hired new teechors too." She sed, pointing at ME! "ALL TO GET YOU, REBECCA! MY ENEMY! I WILL KILL YOU BEFORE THE WEEK ENDS!" she warned super evily.
Asahi: Are we ever going to get a reason for this want to kill Rebecca? Of course not.
Briar: I just assumed it was for revenge because of all the things Rebecca has done. To protect her family.
"FUCK YOU BITCH" I sed. I almost attacked her with my katana but I stopped myself because we wuld need Rosalie to take down Esme and this wasn't a good time.
Cherry: Also, Esme is a vampire an would fuck you up.
"HAHAHA! YOU WISH BITCH!" she said! "BY THE WAY I HAVE HIRD THE VULTURE TO TEACH CLASSES!" she screamed! Then she jumped out the window and left!
Briar: …Because the Volturi would happily stop their own work, their very important work as being the strongest and largest coven, and leave Italy to teach high school… all because you asked?
Asahi: Makes absolutely no sense.
"Who the fuck are the vulture" Jakub.
Cherry: Vultures are a type of food who eat dead animals.
I knew the answer becausemy friend Claritee had gotten away from them as a kid. But i deicded to let Edowerd have a moment of intelligence before he acted like a stupid fucking bitch again.
Asahi: And insulting Edward again. Really racking up those “Nice Girl” points.
"They are the vampiores who have superpowers" Edowerd send as he came.
Briar: …A lot of vampires have powers.
Briar: Actually, now that I think about it. What happened to the Cullens powers? I don’t remember any mention of Edwards mindreading powers, or Alice’s future vision.
He was now in the room. "Do not worry Rebecca weeth caneth defeateth them." He salon said cleanly.
Then Jakub left but tanishashanqua didn't because she was sleeping over with us too. I deeply but silently wondered just what that fucking bitch esme meant when she said that she would kill me.
Asahi: She means she will kill you. It’s not that deep.
But then i stopped thinking and went to bed for the night.
Cherry: You were thinkin’ in the first place?
chapter 25 - Religin class
Briar: Oh boy. Religion. Not a good sign.
Today it was tiem to go to scool unce agin. I got out my new bead in alicias rum. I luked out the window were I saw that it was snowing outsied. Wich was werd because normally in furks it doesnt snow onlee rain.
Asahi: That’s a fair point.
I mean I caem to furks for the rain in the first place so why the fuock didn't it rain more often.
Cherry: Not a fan of rain myself. I like it sunny and dry.
Briar: Agreed. Rain can be tedious. And it can make work all the harder.
I shuke my hand at Judah in the sky before gettin dresed in my new outfit for scool. I equipd my anti raep catana and my shotgun in case I had to kil esme or jessie or vitorio or james.
Asahi: At least Meowth is safe.
Wen I got to the dur with Tanishashanqua and alice I saw edowerd and Jacob. Even tho it was snowing jakub didn't hav a shirt on so I got to see his fucking sexy hot indian abs. Judah fucking dammit I wanted to do him right here but it was fucking cold out so I didnt.
Briar: And not because of your supposed vow of abstinence.
"hi jakub" I sed to him sexily as I culd.
"hi Rebecca. You luk good today." He told me. then Jakub caem.
Asahi: Gross.
We then huged in front of everyune. He was so warm so I hung on ti hum as he ran to scool. Becuz hes a werewolf he has super speed he can just taek me places. Alicia and edowerd and tansishanqua had to taek the car tho but it was oaky they sped along the road next to us. I waved to Alicia as she drove.
Briar: Vampires have superspeed, too. Or did you just forget all the vampires having any power besides immortality and blood-drinking?
Jakub droped me on the ice wen we got to scool. Hes a werewolf so he goes to scool in an indian restarant.
Asahi: I think him going to school on the reservation has more to do with him being Native American and less with him being a werewolf.
Asahi: Though that begs the question of why you keep having them go to school at Fucks High when you say they go to school at a “Resturant”.
He left but onlee after litly kissing me goodbi. Wen I luked up he was gone. I frowned. Then I saw edowerd Alicia and Tanishashanqua all cum over together. Claritee was there too.
Briar: Didn’t expect to see her again.
"yo homie wats that" Tanishashanqua sed as she ponted her ring finger over at the scool bilding. The building was still smoky and brokin from when cops jumprfd though the windows and shot at everything.
Cherry: Rude! Couldn’t even clean up first?
There was stil blud on some of the walls and edowerd and Alicia started getting off on it. Tasnishashanqua and me both thought it was fucking weird.
Briar: It’s extremely weird.
Then Edowerd and me both luked shrewdlee at wat was happening. First there was a bunch of new students. One of them was a gai the other one was a gurl. both of them were obviuslee new. They were walking right towards us at fast speds.
Asahi: If we’re lucky, they’ll run her over. But we’re not lucky.
"hi my names Rebecca whtas yours" I asked the boy.
Briar: The girl isn’t nearly as important.
The boy was a mega ultra fucking hottie but I didn't get to see his abes so I didn't no if he was actualee hotter han jakub.
Cherry: Sexualizing high schoolers. What a great thing to do.
He was realy pail but not like that foucking sick transecual caspor.
Briar: Barely into this and we’re back at it with the transphobia.
He also had gorjus blue lipstick on. He was angry then shoked and finaly calm as he spuked up.
"I am zAlec" he sed. "this is my sistor she is Kane" he sed waving his arms arund at his sister. She was just liek him onlee with bubs and a vajayjay and no you-know-what.
Asahi: Hello, Zalec and Kane.
Briar: You could have just said she looked like a feminine version of him.
She had a pink corset on with a matching dress. she luked like mary antwonet except without the wig and without looking ugly.
Cherry: Rude. I’m sure she was very beautiful.
"well okay that's niec" I sed as edowerd tasniahsshanqua Alicia and me all went to religion class wich was the first class of the dayu. But then Zalec caem too becuz it turned out that he was aslo in the clas with us.
Asahi: Run, Zalec, run while you still can.
We weer going to religion class which was taught by Carliel who is a paster of the romin orthodoks crutch.
Briar: Because Carlisle gave up a very well paying and noble job as a doctor to become a pastor and teacher.
Briar: At least Rosalie is still bringing in plenty of money to support a family of seven.
Claritee kept looking at Alec the entire time and nobuddy paid any attenshin to that hag Jane.
"hello I am fathor carlye and this is religion class" sed carlyse the fucking gorjus fathor of the collins. Calisle was even older than edowerd and alicai combined wich was really fuocking old.
Cherry: Fun fact. Jasper’s technically the second oldest. While Carlisle turned in the 1600’s, Jasper became a vamp in the 1860’s. An Edward only became a vampire in the early 1900’s.
Cherry: Long after the ‘doth’ an ‘thy’ went outta fashion
Im not sure why but he didn't have an aksent and instead just spouke ina normal fucking sexy british accent. He also was pail. Wen calyse found god he become a fathor to spred the wurd of jesus crist to everybody.
Briar: Can’t blame him for that. Perfectly normal.
Normily scool wuldnt allows him to teech becuz of the amendment but becuz hes esmes husbando he can teech religion now.
Asahi: A Religions class is not the same as religious teachings. An educational religions class tells you about religions from an academical point of view, not a spiritual one.
Asahi: So long as he isn’t trying to convert anyone and is objective, there’s no problem with a Religions class.
I thught this was fuocking STUPID BECUZ RELIGION SHOULD BE FREE and I wantd to follo Judah and not the propped up fals god befor me.
Cherry: I’m still just assumin’ Judah is who she thinks is the God of Judaism. An in that case, Judaism has the same God as Christianity.
"Here verybudy taek a free bibul for class" he sed.
"NO FUOCK YOU YOU MOTHERFUOCKER" I SCREEMD as I tuk my anti raep catana and cut the bibul in haf. Then Carlyle gaev me a new bibul becuz he sed the lord had spaers so wen calyse told us to use the bibles I said no and riped mine in half and chuckd it out the window.
Asahi: Destruction of a religious text. Another point for being a terrible person.
"who can explain this verse" he asked politly. Then he pickd on Tanishashanqua becuz hes a rasist. "tell me tasnishashanqua why guns cant make noise in this verse" he pointed at the sun and got down and prayd as he asked the question.
Briar: What has race to do with the question? And what do guns have to do with religion?
Asahi: Nothing at all.
"gun cant sound motherfucker" Tanishashanqua began. "but neither can peace." She finished.
Cherry: So deep. So beautiful.
THEN ALL OF A SUDDEN A NEW TEECHOR CAEM TO THE CLASS….. IT WAS ARROW!
Asahi: Red Arrow or Green Arrow? It’s very important.
Chapter 25 - the betrayal
Briar: Okay, who admitted they wanted to sleep with Rebecca when she asks them this chapter?
IT WAS ARROW! Arrow was a new teecher here at furks high ever sinc eseme becaem the new scool psinsipul becuz i had the kil the old one becuz he wuz evil and a vampior slayar.
Cherry: Yet he didn’t do anything evil. He just stood up an ya murdered him.
But then i stoped and luked out the window away from hi mand carlisle becuz i thought i saw something in the grass outsied.
Asahi: Such an alert attention span.
But it was just a boyd. Watever then i luked back and arrow had ogtten up n the table wich fathor carlisle was supposed to be on. He kickd all the bibuls off becuz he realizes that criteenity is fuocking stupid and that judah is the way to go i hopped.
Briar: Look. I’m not religious. I don’t believe in Gods, I think they’re just stories made up to bring comfort and help guide their morality. But I do believe in respecting what others believe in.
Briar: So in short, it’s very distasteful what’s going on right now.
"what the fuck is he doing motherfuocker" tanishahsnqua asked me. Then clarity cum to us and told us something.
"im not sure but hes the new lootenant of the scool polise" she sed.
Asahi: Do schools in America have police?
Cherry: We have resource officers, but they’re not a mini military.
I noded caerfuly. Clarity had fund out about my secret lately. She new that i kiled chadley but she also new that i didnt really meen it and that he understood me and that i was atoneing for my actions now.
Briar: She just has a very loose definition of atonement.
Asahi: How do you not ‘mean it’? You went all out in killing him.
i luked into her cristel like eys and new that i had a feind forever with her.
"WHAT THE FUOCK" cristal shouted when she saw arro who is a meember of the vulture.
Cherry: Don’t scream, he’ll notice you!
The vulture killed her parents when she was yung. Now she is a vampire becuz of them. I wuld fele bad but clarity just wont get over it so wtf am i suposed to say to someone whos complaing abut their deed parents for the millinth time for yeers.
Asahi: Being an insensitive friend. Another point for you.
Cherry: Ya don’t just ‘get over’ your parents being murdered and you being turned into a vampire.
I meen my parents lucked me in a basement for yeers but u dont see me telling peepul.
Briar: Ah, the obligatory bad childhood. Wondered when we’d get to that.
Anyways arrow opene his muth and out caem words.
"I AM HEER TO ANUNCE THAT dERE WILL BE A DANSE THIS CUMING FRIDAY NITE AND UR ALL INVITED!" arrow sed from the ceeling wich he had climbed up to sins hes a volture!
Cherry: Weird power move, but okay.
"BUT IF U DUNT CUM ULL FAIL RELIGION!" he sed evilly! "AND IF U DONT HAV A DAET U CANT CUM EETHER! AHAHAHAHA!" He sed before he turend into a bat and left the classrum.
Briar: Way to keep your vampirism a secret.
Cherry: Damn, now we’re required to attend school dances? That sucks!
Then class was over becuz father calisly had to give bat the chase becuz it actualee was arrow. Clarity Edoward Alicai Tanishashanqua Salec me and the hag Jane all waked down the hals togethur.
Asahi: Is Jane the new Bella? Because I feel bad for her.
"hey rebeca hu won the elecshin" asked alicai. "i voted for u even tho rosalies my sis dont tell her or ill fuck u up" she sed quietlee. I noded my hed.
Briar: What have you done, Alicia? You’ve doomed us all.
"um i no" sed Alex hu was a quite small boy hu was beyutiful. "it wil be anunced at the danse" he sed
"how do you no that" tanishashanqua sed
"arrow is... MY FATHOR!" he reveeled and then grabed that fuocking bitch ane's arm and ran down the hal.
Cherry: Yes, but no.
Asahi: I guess if he turned Jane and Alec, he could be considered a father.
But when he was running jane let go and aciduntly steped in rosey's peth wich rosey didn't liek. But rossey thinks shes go grate she let hur of with a warning.
"bitch dunt do that agin" she sed and dicked her gun.
Asahi: That sounds uncomfortable.
"wtf rebecca u hav a posse now u miseryabull cunt" i luked it and it was bella hu luked haf emo and haf skanc. She had white fishnte stalkings and a black waste belt and upsieddown hipster glaosses. She had a blacke and gray flannel top on too wich was why she was so emo.
Cherry: Bella, no. No, please, you don’t want to be here.
Then al of a suden ALEC CAEM BACK!
"wtf do u want ho" i asked but then remebered to be gud to repeent "im sorry, i mean wat is it". Claritee and alicai saw how hurd it was for me to be niace to that fuocking biotch so they smieled at me.
Asahi: Wow, she actually apologized to Bella. I am impressed.
Asahi: I will take one, just one point from your bad behavior tally.
"i jsut want to tell u that you suck. And stink. And can go fuock an elephent." Then she turned and walked away. This is the fuocking thanks i get for hepling to protekt her from angela yesterday god fuocking dammit.
Briar: Protect? You tried to frame her for the murder of her father, the murder you did, you tied her up in a bathroom stall,
Briar: When you thought Angela was after you, you said, and I quote; "NO GETBELLA SHES TYED UP". Then you were glad when Angela went after Bella instead of you.
I waentd to cry becuz angela hadnt kiled her but then i stoped and went insied my mind and smacked my inner biotch and told her to stop being suoch a biotch.
Asahi: That doesn’t work. Trust me, I’ve tried.
"who is that gurl" alec sed starrily.
"shes bella shes a biotch" i sed.
"shes beyutiful" he sed dreemilee.
Asahi: Thank you. Yes, she is. Thank you for noticing.
I culdnt staend the thught of him lusting ofter such a fuocking hore so i decided to set him strate.
"no u don't want to get involved with her. Right edowerd?" i asked.
"yes milday doth not wanteth toeth get involvedeth with that ho" he concluded poste hayste. But then in the moment jane saw everyting going on.
Cherry: Guys, just let him be with Bella. Stop involvin’ yourselves with other peoples lives.
"WHATS RONG WITH U AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH ?!" she asked wile crying. It was disgusting becuz snot and teers wer runingn down her faec. Then she ran off into the girls bathrum so alicai claritee me and tanishashanqua folowed her wile edowerd went to go beet up dalec for being such a doosh.
Briar: But he didn’t do anything wrong but say Bella is beautiful? What? Do they want him to romanticize his own sister?
"girl dont worry ur beyutiful" alicai pated jahne on the back caerfully.
"yeah if he cant see your beyuty then hes not good enuff for you in the first place" i told her.
Asahi: …He’s her brother.
I felt good. Then i realized. Being good feels good. Maybe this was something i culd do afterall.
Cherry: You can be good. But will you? Probs not.
I was goign to be a better persun and leaf the lief of sin ive been folowing behind me. I went over to the last stal and there was a homeless person in it. I gave them som money. Then i gav him a poptart. It felt good!
Briar: …Why is there a homeless person just hiding in the school bathroom?
But then it was tiem for gim so we al had to go to class. We were playging dodjhal wich is a fun game were you hav to dodje shit that peepul are throwgin at you. Becuz of all my combat experiunce it was easy for me.
Asahi: Your combat experience is boiled down to you being saved by everyone and stabbing people for no reason.
That whore bella was on the other team along with clairy. When she wuznt looking clarity pushed her and she fell down and got hit 15 tiems by everune on our ttem.
Briar: Rude.
Asahi: And that point I took away for apologizing to Bella? It’s back and doubled.
Then the other teem god angry and throo shit at bela. I laughed so hard that i though i wuld pee myself but i wuldnt in public so fuock u.
Asahi: Tripled.
Cherry: She’s gonna have a few dozen points when its over.
As the gaem was almost ovar edowerd was hit so hard that he went thru the wall... It was CASPOR i meen CASMINE the transeccual boy! [AN: NASPER WENTS TO BE CALD JASMIN BECUS HE FELS MORE FEMINEN]
Briar: More power to her.
Cherry: Jasmine’s a pretty name. She’ll be a beautiful woman.
he hade thrown a hal so fast it broke eodwrds spien twice.
Asahi: Nice. Good job, Jasmine.
But then anya the bold stud up and cawt the ball! She was so beyutiful and fast and gud at editing. [AN: ANYA THIS IS U!]
Briar: Aaah, she has a new editor.
Briar: I wonder how long she will last.
she thrw a keyboard at bella and bella went ot the hospitul.
Cherry: A keyboard?! The hell?
Then i saw emmet. I went up to him and asked him how the gay thing was. It must be haerd not being with the une u luv becuz if he was with seth then saths family of wolves wuld exile the too and familee is all sath has sins his fathor dyed yesterdae.
Asahi: If you love someone enough, and if your family can’t approve of your love, then you’re better off without your family. Emmett and Seth would be better together if they are truly in love, and they shouldn’t care what the people around them think.
Anywasy then we won the gaem but lost the match becuz they trid to make us go outsied and sins most of our teem is vampiors they culdnt play. So it was me and anya. We tried but there wer too many. 16 acshually.
Briar: I’m just imagining that Rebecca got hit with so many balls she’s a walking bruise.
Cherry: I love that image.
Anyways then we went to our next class but first i waented lunch so i skiped and evryon caem with me...
Asahi: Considering the principle wants you dead, you shouldn’t be skipping.
I wuz going to the bathrum were i hade fught angela to a draw and then helped to beet her when suddenly edowerd apperd!
Briar: We read the story, Rebecca. We know that’s not what happened.
"EDOWERD WHAT THE FUOCK" i asked! this was the WOMINS bathrum!
"doth engaegeth in sex" he sed forsing himsefl on me! OH NO! WHAT WAS I GOING TO DO!?
Asahi: Wow. Edward that’s a bit forward.
Cherry: Yikes. Big yikes.
chapter 27 - the hospital bathroom
Asahi: It is mildly triggering every time she brings up how this school doubles as the town hospital.
Asahi: And now we have to specify that she’s not in the school-half’s bathroom, but in the hospital-halfs bathroom.
Cherry: This school had best be havin’ some damn good biology classes an pre-med electives.
Oh no! wat was i gunna do edowerd wuz cuming to me to moleest me?
"no stop edowerd i dun get ti" i sed crying.
Briar: Her crying is actually completely justified.
Briar: It feels weird validating what she says and does, though.
Why was edowerd tryign to do this to me? This was so fukced up!
Asahi: Maybe he’s coming to rape you for the same reasons Seth did to Bella? By your logic, what he does is absolutely justified then, after all.
Cherry: I don’t wanna see ya acting like a whiny bitch about this after how ya treated Bella when she went through this.
Teers wer runign down my face so quitlee and i wuz jsut so shoked. Edowerd tuk my rist and then throo me at the grund.
Briar: Break her spine. Break her spine.
"doth beeth a bitcheth" he sed and then smackd me.
Asahi: Sorry, she’s incapable of not being one.
Then he riped my shirt off.
"why are you doing this!?" i screemed at him. "STOP! WHY!?" He hit me agin, this time with his cleets [AN: EDOWERD IS ON THE SOCCUR TEEM].
Cherry: He hit her with his cleats? Not kicked her? What’d he do? Tear his shoes off an start smacking her in the face with em?
Then i felt sumthing red sleeping down my forehed. It was BLUD! he must have brike skin when he hit! "shit" i sed.
Asahi: It’s just a flesh wound.
Edowerds eies turned all red andshit and then hey got huded. He luged after me but i got up and dodgd his atac.
Briar: Because it’s easy dodging a vampire who has super speed and heightened reflexes.
He culdnt be resened with in his stayte and i was scrayd. I tride to run for the dur but then he apered and slamed it. Then he punched me and i flew back into the mirors. As i hit them they explouded into a bilion trilion shrads and they went everwere. Sum of it hit my faec and i culd tel i wuld get a scar.
Asahi: This is oddly cathartic. Seeing her actually get the crap beaten out of her. Not something you see often in these kinds of stories.
Cherry: I’m soakin’ as much of this as I can before she inevitably somehow beats him.
"AAAAAAAAAH" i screemed!
Briar: Alas, the bathroom was completely soundproof, and thus no one passing by in the halls could hear her screams and cries for help or the sounds of someone being beaten.
He hit me so hrad i went thru the sink too! Then before i culd reakt he had thrown me thru eech bathrum stal one bai one. There were five in tottal.
Asahi: I’m impressed she’s not broken her spine yet.
Finaly tho he tripped up and so i ran up to him with my katana and smaked him with it. I didnt want to hurt him he wuz my frend at one point so insted i just taped him withit.
Cherry: Emphasis on smacked. It’s not like you’d wanna cut the person beatin’ you up and tryin’ ta’ rape ya. No, that’d just be rude.
He lost his frenzie and then luked at wat he did to the bathromo.
"doth fucketh" he sed and then before i new it he had sped out of the rum.
Asahi: So, the cure for a frenzied vampire on a rampage is to tap them with a sword.
Asahi: As Edward said; the fuck?
I new that i had to run and find alicai and tel her wat hapened. It was hard to run tho becuz blud was gushing down thru my foreheed and it wuz gettin in my eies.
Briar: It has nothing to do with being thrown into a mirror, five bathroom stalls, and a sink resulting in broken bones and numerous bruises.
As i ran down the hal i culdtn figur owt why edowerd did that to me. I meen i no ive dun bad things in the past but this wuz just out of cacater for edowerd.
Cherry: Eeeeh… Maybe not the rape part, but ya definitely deserved the beatdown.
But then i shruged it off until i fund tanishashanqua and alicia and Jacob who was there for lunch break
Asahi: And Jacob is at their school and not the Indian restaurant he attends because…?
"what the FUCK gurl are you okay!?" Tanishashanqua asked. she tuk a cleen rag [AN" CLEEN TO PREVENT INFECSHINS] owt of her purs and then wiped my forehed with it.
Cherry: She’s honestly the most competent person here.
"alicia get out of heer u wont be able to resist the blud" Jacob sed to her. She noded her hed smoothlee and then jumped up the roof and out of scool grunds.
Briar: As you do when you’re leaving someplace.
Jacob picked me up with tanisahshanquas help and they tuk me to the hospitul wing of the scool. Then i blaked out.
When i woke up jacub was there with me. I had a yellow bandij on my hed were my wund was. Tanishashanqua was there to, but she wuz sleepign becuz sh ewas tired.
Asahi: Now be quiet, we don’t want to wake Tanishashanqua up.
"rebecca u need to tell me what is the matter" jakub sed. "who did this to you. I want to help" he sed as he culd see me.
"it was edowedr he tried to raep me" I sed cheerliee
Asahi: Weird thing to be cheerful about.
but no then sadlee becuz i had the shit beetin out of my.
Cherry: Ah, ya forgot ya ought to be sad bout that. Happens all the time.
FUCK THAT EDOWEDR GODDAMIT.
"itll be okay i'll go take caer of him" jakub sed as he got his axe out of his pockit.
Asahi: Are you tired of your belts constantly breaking when you hang your axes on them? How about the axe hitting people or the walls whenever you try to squeeze by people?
Cherry: Well, now ya don’t got to worry about any of that anymore! We’re here introducing the newest innovation in yer axeman lifestyle! The pocket-axe!
Asahi: When you’re tired of cutting down trees and killing vampires, you just fold it up and slip it right into your pocket. No more axe-idents.
Cherry: No more problems!
Asahi & Cherry: Buy yours today!
Then he howled and turned into a fury and then juped out the window of the hospitul rum.
Briar: Was he still carrying his axe?
Cherry: Aw the widdle wofly cawwied the axe in his widdle mouthy.
I wuz glad that he wuz ther to support me. I wuld support him in my own speshal way in the futor.
Asahi: “By stabbing him in the dick.”
"fuck yu you cunt" i herd. I luked up. It was BELLA! She wuz the one in the hospitul bed to the side of mine! God fuocking dammit i thught to myself slylee.
Briar: Bella, my favorite person, you’re okay!
"what!? What the fuck doyou want bella!? Cant u just leev me alone!? JUDAH FUOCKING DAMMIT U WEER ALWAS SUCH A FUCKING BITCH TO ME I HATE YOU" i screemd in fuory. Uh oh. I was supoed to be gud.
Cherry: Ya never been good.
"thas hard to do when u do shit like KILL MY FUOCKING DAD YOU CUNT" she screemed even loudlier.
Asahi: She has a very valid point.
Briar: Can’t argue with her reasoning.
I gasped loudlee so that she culd understand my shouck.
"ur just jelus that chardly always luved me mora than you" i sed furiouslee!
Cherry: An you repaid that love by killin’ him.
She was so shucked that she culdnt even say anyting to that. Then she luked down an troddin. Wich ment that she new i was rite. Wich ment that i weon.
Briar: Doesn’t justify the murder.
Asahi: We all know Charlie really loved Bella best, she’s just full of herself.
I got up out of my bead and went to the hospitul rum bathrum. Y didnt this victoree feel gud tho?...
Cherry: Oh, God!
Cherry: Are ya learning empathy?
As i steped into the bathrum to go tinkle my combat sens tingld.
Asahi: “Look mom, I can rhyme! Are you proud of me, now?”
Sudenly i dodj roled out of the atac in the smal bachrum onlee to see... ANGELA THE VAMPIOR! She was back!
Briar: Why do all these vampires love attacking girls in the bathroom? Edward did it once, and this is Angela’s third Bathroom Strike.
And she had a new BLAK CATANA! And she had triedto kill ME WITH IT! I ran out of the bathroom at my ful potenshil and assumd fightign pose in frunt of bella.
Asahi: Wait, are you attacking Bella? Defending Bella? Using Bella as a human shield?
"shit motherfucker!" tanishashanqua screemed!
Cherry: Oh, ya woke up to the fight, but not to Bella and Rebecca screamin at each other?
She got out her gun and poiynted it at the biotch angela. We wer gonna protekt bellas lief and also my life. I new that it was heer that i wuld maek up for my sins and devowlee folo judahs plan.
Briar: I can’t believe it.
Briar: They’re actually protecting Bella? Bella? Did someone replace Rebecca with a clone? A good clone?
Asahi: I don’t believe this is going to last, but I want it to.
As angela the vampiore stuck out the bathroom we prepard!
"u evaded me twise so now yuo both shall DIE" angela screemed! Then she LUGED!
Cherry: Oh, no! She luged! How will anyone survive?
okay i no i sed that i wuld reply to ny reviows but srsly
Jason Bartholomu 12/4/12 . chapter 16
Do you even lift?
lift what i dunt get it what the fuock is rung with u pepul
Cherry: Ya don’t get the most iconic an basic of memes? Disappointin’.
chapter 28 - Rebecca & Bella vs Angela
Then she LUGED! I gasped wile tryign to deflekt angelas atack with my catana. She was very skiled but i think that i was more thern a match for her wile we were in the hospital rum.
Asahi: No. No you’re not.
"SHIT HOMIE GEDOWN" tanishashanqua SCREEMD as she usd her gun at angela. I was fsat enuf to dodge the bullits but if i hadnt bene then i wuld be ded.
Cherry: Considerin’ how fast bullets move… that’s physically impossible.
Angela didnt tho and she got shotted at leest 4 times in the neck. But she didnt say anything like i expected her to so it was werd. She jsut tryed to stab me and tanishashanqua and bella sum more so u no wat? Angelas a fuocking bitch.
Asahi: Takes one to know one.
Suddenly anya the bold ran in wile eeting cheetos and poptarts and luked at us but she was so scray by wat she saw that she ran out. [AN: ANYA GET UR AKT TOGETHUR UR SUPOSED TO BE EDITING NOT EATING CHEETOS U FATTI]
Briar: That’s one way to chase away your editors.
Asahi: I’m surprised it took this long before she lashed at her. I can assume that after this chapter she won’t be editing for you anymore.
but then angela threw her sword like a boomeragn and it cut off anya the bolds arm so TAEK THAT U CAN GET UR ARM BAECK WHEN U START WURKING AGAIN!
Cherry: Yeah, no one in their right mind’s gonna deal with you when ya do shit like that.
"Bella u need to get out of here we caent hold her off for loung!" i sed wile trying to be a gud person. It was hard to prove it tho becuz there wer no homeliss pepul to give poptards to but whatevr.
Asahi: I think you need to understand that doing good deeds because you want to be seen as ‘good’ isn’t the same as doing good deeds because it’s the right thing to do.
Anyways then angela smacked tanishashanqua on the hed but she didnt stop THERE! then tanishashanqua luged at bella but i blocked the atack. Tasniahsnqua then tuk out a nife and went for Angela!
Briar: Tanishashanqua, you’re having some trouble remembering who your enemy is, aren’t you?
"YOU WILL NOT STOP ME!" Angela screemed but then tanishashqnau stabed her in the gut with her getto nife and then i pushed her owt the window of the hospitul rum. Luckilee the rum is fiev storys up so angela had a long fal to deel with.
Cherry: It’s rather quick when ya take into account the speed ya fall at.
"we need to escape befor she climsb back up here" i sed serverlee. I luked ovar at Bella and Bella was just fuocked up becuz of this drama and shit.
"WHAT THE FUOCK IS GOIGN ON!?" she screemed.
Briar: Very valid response.
"luk motherfuocker that bitch is gonna kill you too if we dont run so u can eether stay here or run with us to be abel to survive" tanishashanqua sed.
"she wuz the one who atacked us in the bathrum stal" i sed to clarifye the situation.
Asahi: So long as you avoid going into any bathrooms, you’ll be safe.
Bella thught for a secund and then nodded her head.
"okay, ur right." She sed.
"we need to get away and fast" i sed as i locked the windows so that when angela tries any spiderman shit to get back into heer it wuldnt wurk.
Briar: You could always break the glass.
"how are we going to do that!? Shes so strong a powerful!" bella sed wile starting to cry a litle bit.
"Theres only 1 persun strong enuf to take on angela for shure" tasniahshanqua begined. "Rosey." I nodded my hed becuz this was a relly good idea. Thank gudness tasniahsnqua is such a gud friend with gud ideas.
Asahi: Thank God Tanishashanqua has the one brain cell this group shares.
"does anybody have a car that we can use to get to the collins house?" i askd the too.
"i do!" bella sed and then we all went to the parkign lot to get into beds fuocking uglee truck. Even tho it was uglee and i haet it with all my pashin it was savign my lief now so i maed sure to remember to fix it when this was all ovar.
Cherry: This is so weird. She’s… growin’? As a person?
Cherry: Am I dreamin’?
I culd start to append for my sins by treeting the things in my life better. As we were gettign into the truck, we herd a fucking obnoxshis screech.
"GET BACK HERE BITCHES!" It was ANGELA! She was on a moturcycle! She tuk out a pistol and started to shoot bullits at us so we got into the truck fastlee.
Briar: Motorcycles… are like metal horses… that’s kind of cool.
Cherry: Motorcycles are awesome, I defs’ want one.
Tasniahsnqa and I got into the back bed [AN: THATS WERE U PUT THE KARGO AND SHIT IN A PIKUP TRUCK]
Asahi: I’m pretty sure most everyone knows what the truck bed is.
and asumed fihgting posishin. I tuk out my shotgun and shotted it at angela wile tanishahsnaqua tuk out her getto pistol and also shotted it.
"GO GO GO GO!" i screemed and then bella tuk off out of scool grounds and around the town while angela followed us. Agenla tried to shoot at the car but tanishashanqua shot back and i deflekted bullits with my anti-raep catana wile shooting with my shotgun.
Cherry: I never did like the ‘deflects bullets with a sword’ trope people love doin’ in anime.
It was hard, to sto pthe bullits, but i had to protekt bella, the driver of this vehicol. but then Angela activated her turbo button and then she was speeding up so fast that theer wouldnt be a chanse for us to escape! It was as if she had a jet in that fucking moturcycle!
Cherry: That’s pretty cool, actually.
"Bella!" i screemed! "Speed up! We arent lusing her!"
"IM TRYING DONT DISTRAKT ME" bella screemed. I meen i understand her srtress but hello tanishashanqua and i wuldnt let anything happen to her. But whatever she desruves the beenfit of the doubt.
Asahi: This is so weird.
Asahi: I’m not complaining, though.
We sped up rally fast and then Bella tuk the truck out of the town and into the windign roads behind the town. There were lots of trees everywhere and it began to raen liek crazee so i felt at home.
Cherry: There’s this magical barrier that kept the rain out of the town.
Suddenlee a coip car starded to get in on the chase too! We were tryign our best to deflekt bullits but then the fuockign cops tried to drive US off the road insted of angela!
"Tanishashanqua the cops are alyed with Angela!" i sed! We were doomed unless we culd get those biotches off our backs!
Briar: Maybe it’s because you killed one of their own?
"i got this motherfucker" tanisahsnqua sed and then she shot the cop driving the car in the hed and he died and his car went off a cliff and exploded.
Asahi: Ah, another murder. Good job.
Then we went back to doign what we were doign before.
"YOU WONT ESCAPE EASILEE!" angela screemed and then she tuk her gun and aymed it at the tire of the truck and SHOT THE BULLIT! IT HIT! THEN IT MADE A NOISE! Tanishashanqua and me almost fell out but before i new it Angela had use d the swurve to JUMP INTO THE TRUCK WITH US! FUCK!
Briar: This is equally unexciting and exciting. It’s kind of scary how she managed that.
"FUCK YOU" i screemed and engayged her in one on one swordfightign. It wuz her black catana versis my anti rape catana and it luked liek i was losing!
Cherry: Surprisin’ absolutely no one.
I just culdnt keep up with her enhansed vamprie powers! FUCK! She then pujnched me in the boob and smacked me!
Cherry: Ouch, boob punch. Low blow.
Then she luged for tanishansqua! NOOOO!
"FUUUUUUUUCK" tanishahsnqua screemed as angela cut off her pistol hand with her evil black catana! Then she picked up one of my onlee friends and threw her out the back of the truck wile bella was driving it at 120 miles per hours!
Asahi: Ah, man. You killed off one of the few interesting characters.
It was tramatic taek my wurd for it.
Briar: I’ll have to.
"Bitch please this is still my fucking turf ur on" someone sed. IT WAS ALICIA! She was drivign a sports car and had caght tanisahsnaqua's bodee with the hood of her car.
Cherry: That’s actually gonna be pretty painful.
Asahi: At least Alicia is here. Now they stand a chance of survival.
Tanishashanqua got into the car wile alicai shot at angela frum the sports car. I new then that this wuz my chase to get a hit in on angela so i struck and almost nocked her off the speedign truck! Btu then she hung on and overpowerd me.
Cherry: Surprisin’ no one.
"No matter how many of u weeklings show up I will still rain supreme!" she sed evilee! Alicia used her vampire strength to shoot many bullits at angela but angela also was a vampiore so she dodged them like a profesional. But no! some of the bullits that missed angela wuz going to hit bella! I tried to dodge into the atac but i onlee tuk too bullits!
Briar: It’s so jarring that she’s throwing herself into danger to protect Bella. Is this the same Rebecca?
"SHIT" i screemed. I had faild and culdnt protekt bella. Even tho i akt like i hate her shes secretely always been my role model and i shuldve been nicer to her.
Asahi: Know what that is? Growth.
A singul teer drop fell frum me faec as i relized wat was goign to hapen. I herd a screem from bella, and suddenlee the car went off the side of the roed and into the wuds. Angela and i went flyign over 70 feet in the aeir along with the truck. As we wer in midair bella fell from the truck and angela stabed me in the stomick, but not before i shoved my antiraep catana into her nee!
Cherry: so we got three deaths?
Cherry: At least one from the 70 feet fall.
She kickedd me and i went flying even furthor. But then as i hit a tree on the way down, i herd an exploshin. Then everything went blaeck as i fell...
Briar: That was the sound of your insides turning to mush.
Chapter 30: woods
Cherry: The less successful knockoff of “Into the Woods”.
I woke up in the fucking awful rain becuz seriously people I dont love it THAT much I mean geeze.
Briar: With how much you were saying you love it, now you don’t?
Anyways my head really fucking hurt because i had been sent through a fall. I didnt know where Angela was because she had gone flal too but I knew that if I honed myself that I could find bella.
Asahi: If Bella’s dead, we riot.
I found my shotgun and katana and put then in the ground int he forest I was in. It was almost dark. I could tell ecause the sun was setting. Time had passed. I cliped my hands together and prayed to Judah that something would guide me way. Then I opened my eyes and saw the Elf Grandfather who was pointing at the car wreck with Bella underneeth it!
Briar: Suddenly there are elves?
Cherry: That’s not the weirdest thing, oddly enough.
I ran to the reck and saw that Bellas hand was the only thing not under her fucking trashed truck. It was burning and smoke and shit and the trees were going to burn down soon.
Asahi: Save her or perish.
"Bella dont worry I'll save you!" I screemed because I was a good person and shoved the truck with all my mite. It was no use those I couldn't gain ground against the truck because of Newton's laws against moving objects! [AN: FUCK YOU NEWTON]
Cherry: Newton had nothing to do with this.
"rebeeca you goddamn it fucking ugly stupid whore help me goddamn you and fuck this" she whinied at me which was totally unhelpful right now I mean c'mon I'm trying to concentrate at the moment.
Briar: I’ll admit, Bella, not the best time to complain.
"GODDAMNIT IM TRYING" I screamed at her. I mean if she didn't have such a fucking huge truck this wouldnt be tough the thing ways like 15 tons. But then my combat sense tingled and I looked behind me and suddenly ANGELA APPEARED in the sky and and she started to use her sword in me!
Asahi: Phrasing.
Cherry: She said what she meant. The swords in her.
"I'll kill you! HIYAH" She screened as she luged over and over again. I tried to fight back but it was hard because bella was there nad she was the targit and I was trying to protect Bella but Angela used and I couldn't truck!
Briar: She couldn’t truck?
Briar: Is that some modern age slang?
"WHAT YOU SAY TO ME!?" I screamed as I punched Angela's breasts in the fight.
Cherry: Another boob punch!
It was a ground blow but it was all I could do to stay in front. "You're a monster Angela and I won't let you harm people!" I screemed harder this time! But then Angela jumped into the air with her Katana and cut my shotgun in half! Oh shit! I was so fucked!
Asahi: Well, it was nice knowing you, Rebecca.
Asahi: Not really. But, hey, good riddance.
"IF I AM A MONSTER THEN I WILL BE THE MONSTER COACH!" She screemed while flying. "THE FIRST IN MANKIND AND THE FIRST ALL OVER THE WORLD!"
Cherry: Ya might not be the first monster, but ya might be the first monster coach.
Then she stopped flying right on top of me. As bella was getting her face burned and crushed by the Car Angela just kept stabbing me and stabbing me with her Katana of death until She picked me up with it and impaled me.
Briar: I’ll be fine with Bella dying if it means Rebecca dies as well, just saying.
"AAAAAAAAAA" I screemed in shire agony! THERE WAS A FUCKING SWORD IN ME AND SHE WAS SPINNING ME AROUND WILE I WAS ON IT!
Briar: That gives me some ideas.
She was just to strong. This was the final line for me and bella. None of my friends were around to save me. Jacob was after Edoward who was running away from Fucks and Alicia was with Tanishashanqua wherever the fuck they were and And nerd Clarity was actually in that the school.
Asahi: I forgot Clarity existed.
Cherry: Same.
I tried to take a breath but it was hard because Angela was using a sord to mvoe me.
Then all of a sudden a gunshot went off and Angela threw me off to the sword with great power! She cut the bullet in half and we both looked up! It WAS CHOCOLOVE!
Briar: Never mess with a stripper.
"Angela stop" he said while looking like a teachor.
"Why the fuck shuld I?" She asked as I was there and on the ground almost dead and Bella was almost dead to. She was about to snap my neck so it was good that Chocolove arrived to stop her!
Cherry: I’d be more concerned bout all the holes you got.
"Because" he said wile pointing at Angela the Vampire! "When you were alive, I WAS YOUR FATHER ANGELA!" She then started to cry becuz she was just confused by touching it all. Then she got fucking angry!
Asahi: What a twist!
Briar: I’d be crying tears of confusion, too. This is pretty nonsensical.
"YOU LYING FUCKER" she screemed and then tried to stab him but Chocolove's forcefeld stopped her from comign close to him. "AAAAAA" she screemd as she went flying backwards into an other grandfather elf tree.
Briar: The poor elf-tree.
"ITS TRUE" he screemed! "YOUR MOTHER IS NONE OTHER THAN RENNY!" Everybody at the sene gasped because of the revelatin! If angela was renny's dohter then that meant that... "YES!" Chocolvoe screemed! "THAT MAKES ANGELA BELLA'S SISTER!"
Asahi: Clearly Renée had the true harem.
And then Angela started swearing so much that I'm not even gonna fucking write it becuz seriously it would take up like 5 pages of text.
"you bitch" Angeal screamed and then broke down on the ground.
"Its true their insides are made of the same blood..." he said. "My daddy blood".
Asahi: Ugh, I hate the word ‘Daddy’.
Cherry: Wouldn’t they be sharin’ Renée mommy blood?
Asahi: Don’t say ‘mommy’, either.
And then all of a sudden my pain wouldn't release because Angela had still stabbed me. But then something amazing happened that saved my life that I will never forget!
"HOMING MISSLE BOMB STRIKE" sed a voice! The voice belonged to Alec!
Asahi: You’re still here?
All of a Sudden Angela went missiling up into the air like some sort of flying projectile and left the atmosfear. Jane was there too but she was a had so it didn't matter.
Cherry: Wow, rude.
"What are you doing here you fools?" Chocolove asked
"I am here to save Bellanita and Rebeccadora [AN: THOSE ARE THEIR FULL NAMES]
Briar: I don’t know about Rebecca, but Bella’s full name is Isabella Marie Swan.
from sertin death" Alec said. "They are too close to the collin compound and you know what lies in there! We must not let Esme see them!" And then Jane nodded and made a incantation to say "HOLY" and then the truck got up and rolled over and away from Bella so that we culd save her.
"Don't worry" Alec said to me. "My powers sent her to the MOON" he screamed.
Briar: Well, we know she’ll be back on earth in an hour, tops.
"I won't let you ruin my plans!" Chocolove said with anger and blood dripping from his voice and then his forsefield grew to ten times the original amount! "Esme will hear about this blatant betrayl of our plans and then you will suffer the consequences!"
Asahi: I’m sorry? What?
Briar: The stripper is evil, what a shocker.
"what are you saying Chocolove!?" I managed to ask wile bleeping out onto the forest ground.
Cherry: I’ll give ya props for being awake after all that blood loss.
"I wont asnwer that because it would spoil my plans" he said. And then he made to summon a Lance and equiped it to do battle with.
"Well too bad they are our friends and we will save them" jane sed finally speaking up! Then she made a ninjutsu sign and then screamed "TELEPORT" and the four of us (Me, Bella, Jane, and Alec) teleported away from Mr. Chocolove!
Asahi: What? This is Naruto now?
Chapter 31: Return to School
Suddenly like as if were teleported we were in the school. I was there with my wounds and Bella was there with her face and shit all burned and alec and Jane were there to.
"We will take Bella to the facility" said Alec. He puked up Bella with amazing speed and pushed everyone out of his way to the hospital. Jane cried like the hag she is and then teleported away.
Cherry: This fic is makin’ me ship Alec/Bella.
So then I had to go to class to find claritee because she was the only one who could be my friend since Jacub was in the pursuit and Tanishashanqua and Laicia wer .
Briar: I’m impressed she is able to spell Tanishashanqua the same every time.
Then I looked up at the clock and there was enough time left in the day to go to my next class wich was a math class. I hate math because I'm not very good at it because of Newton [AN: FUCK YOU AGAIN NEWTON].
Cherry: Newton’s got nothin to do with ya sucking.
Asahi: I think you skipping the rest of your classes would be justified at this point.
"I'm sorry I'm late sir I was busy fiting angela" I said to the teachor who was suppled to be Mr Clearwater but I acted a gasp when it wasn't! It was Hasmes the man whose arm was missing after he consumed Clear water!
Briar: Hasmes is still alive? Wow.
"PAY ATTENTION TO THE BOARD REBECCA" screemed Hames the Vampire teacher of my Calculus class as I perfectly sat to my seat. We were learning things like how to divide funktions and trickonometry. "YOU ARE THIEVING KNOWLEDGE FROM THE OTHER STUDENTS" he screamed wile waving chalk and shit around the class. I don't get why I even try its not like I'm asian or anything so fuck this shit.
Asahi: Wow. Racist.
Cherry: Everyone’s gotta learn math, deal with it.
"Psst Rebecca want to buy some weed" sad the boy to the left of my seet! IT WAS SERKADES! [AN: SERKADES IS ONE OF THE SNERKERS].
Briar: Who from the what?
Asahi: No idea.
He was a sit there and selling drugs to me and everything! I went all D: and then he Took out the dope and waved it in my fucking face. "I need it to pay for my props" he tried to say slidely.
"Mr Hames serkades is selling drugs!" I told the teechor but he was so busy reducing Clitoria that he didn't notice.
Cherry: Ouch, clit reduction in a classrooms gonna be painful.
"No I don't want any of your fucking drugs so stop before alicai sees you beside I am too far above the inner fluence" I told him. I was trying to help I mean if Alica saw this shit she would fuckign kill him for being on her turd.
Briar: Fair point.
"Your strong so I can not do anything to encourage you" sad Serkades because he just kept on trying to sell. "I'll call you when I'm selling cheap" he sed and swiped me his phone number for texting because nobody calls anymore.
Cherry: That’s a lie.
I riped it up because I was done being a bad person and I didn't even try to stab him so I felt good about myself just like it should be. In fact I was going to tell on him and do the right thing so he could sort his life out. Judah would want that.
Asahi: It’s so weird seeing Rebecca be somewhat good.
"Bye mr Hames I am going to the School police" I told Hames as I got up and left and he just stuck his middle finger up at my because she was busy kussing his lady bitch's face to notise his job. I walked down the fucking empty halls and located Arrow's room since his is a liutenant [AN: THE SCHOOL POLICE ARE IN ARROWS ROOM].
Briar: So this school has a hospital and police.
Briar: All it needs is a bank and it’s a town of its own.
But I heard mouning going on inside so I quickly opened the door to investigate!
"WHAT THE FUCK" I SCREAMED because I was scared. My old fiend Clarity Etude Symphonia was on the desk laying there and Arrow was on top of her as a Bat masticating on her body! He just kept going and going it was fuckign sick. There was blood everywhere like a volcano in Italy.
Asahi: Disgusting.
Cherry: Repulsive.
Briar: Revolting.
"Get off of her what the fuck are you doing!?" I screemed and took out my Katana and threw it across the room but the Bat dodged and I tried to get but I could because bats and its wings kept fapping.
Briar: How the heck is it still jerking off while it’s flying?
Asahi: I don’t think we want to know.
"You disgusting shit I will kill you" the bat said using Ekolocation to translate thoughts into me! "I have killed this worthless hunam and drained her of all of her blood" he translated loudly!
Cherry: That’s not how echolocation works.
"You sick fucker your wrong I am a vampire too!" Clarity screemed as she got up to kill Bat but he stopped her and went through her breasts to get inside her body! "FUUUCK" Clarity screemed!
Cherry: I’m scared but what’s goin’ on?
"I am now inside her body it is warm like a volcano's bakemeat. I shall nest in here" he said and then closed the entrance to her body so that he would be safe.
Asahi: By the looks of it, we’re in Alien now.
"Arrow stop trying to live inside of Clarity!" I screemed to protect my friend! I wanted to kill him but I couldn't not without killing clarity too.
"There is no use Rebecca" Clarity said now crying a lot not as much as Bella when Chadley had died but more than when Bella cried over Mikes dead body.
Briar: Bella is a good gauge of how sad you are. Are you “My dad died” sad or “This kinda-friend who won’t take a hint died” sad?
"He will nest in me and you cannot harm him without killing me first" she sed.
Asahi: Time to take one for the team, Clarity.
"Clarity you are my friend we will solve this predicament" I sad. "Esme will pay for this!" I also sad this time waving my fists towards the sun.
Briar: What does Esme have to do with this?
Cherry: She’s just a mom who wants to raise kids.
"No Rebecca you must know what I found out before…" She sad as she drew her gun from her bra. She was shaking because she was losing control of her body to the parasite Arrow inside.
Cherry: Aren’t most men parasites?
Asahi: Hey!
Briar: Rude.
Cherry: Bad joke. M’bad.
"The volutre are a diversion… Esme hired them to kill anyone on Cocolove's trail…" She was puking blood now because Arrow was eating her from the inside. She took out a jar of holy water. I was crying it was so traumetric.
Briar: Probably should see some therapy.
"He is the masterind behind everyting and he is connected to everything… You were not always supposed to…" she stopped and then her eyes rolled back like some weird chuky shit.
Asahi: Chocolove is the beginning and end, he is everything and nothing, knows all, sees all.
Cherry: Chocolove the secret main villain?
"NO! CHARLITY YOU ARE MY BESTEST FRIEND DON'T DO THIS TO YOURSELF THERES NO GOING BACK!" I scremed but it wasn't enough. "IF YOU DO THIS THAN YOU WILL BECOME THE GERATEST MONSTER OF THIS WORLD OF THEM ALL!"
Briar: Exaggerating a bit there.
"URGHGHGH GOODBYE" Clarity barfed and then she chugged the entire jar of holy water. Then her entire insides caught the fire and everything except for her bones and muscles and skin burned up she no longer had orgins to donate in case someone was going to dye.
Asahi: A vampire probably can’t donate their organs, either.
"AHAHAHAHA NOW I CONTROL HER!" Arrow said from inside Claritee as he piloted her like a giant mecha like in one of those animees. "IT IS I THAT CAN GRASP THE GERATEST MONSTER BY BEING THE GREATEST MONSTER OF THEM ALL!" But the clarity I knew was dead inside arrow had masticated into her and then she had commited to suicide by drinking water and now she was hollow. "THANK YOU REBECCA YOU MADE ALL OF THIS POSSIBLE" He screemd and then using Clarity he ran out of the Office.
Cherry: So Rebecca is the final villain.
Cherry: That makes more sense.
I ran out of the office too but I was crying because today had been really bad. Then Alicia and Tanishashanqua and Jacub and Edowerd all came to me. Except edowerd couldn't talk because he was typed up and his mouth was closed with duck tapes.
Asahi: Ah. Jacob caught him.
Asahi: Good doggy.
"What is wrong Rebecca?" Said Jacub. He helped me close very sexily I could even felt his nipples through his shirt.
Briar: Stop sexualizing him.
"Clarity just died" I sad.
"Aww that stinks" Said Alicia which reminded me of smoking da Mary J.
"By the way that fucker Serkades is trying to steal your turf where were yoy anyways!?" I questioned while flapping my raven hair with golden streaks in the dramatic sexy wind.
Cherry: Ah, was wonderin’ when we’d get the hair in the wind.
Asahi: The sexy wind, mind you.
"I was getting a new hand" sad Tanishashanqua who now had a robot hand sort of like Luke Skywinkers from Revenge of the Jedis. "The surger was difficult but I pulled it through" she said.
Briar: Oh, cool.
Cherry: That’s badass!
"THAT FUCKER" Alicai said and took off into the school with a gun equipped to use on SErkades that turd. Alicai would settle him straite.
"But anyways Rebecca why are you so beat up" Jacub asked.
"Because wile you were away Angela attacked me Bella and Tanisha and then Bellas truck fell and Chocolove stopped the killings!" I told him. He nodded very quickly at first but then stopped and did it slowly. Suddenly it became raining and thundering outsied so I felt at home.
Asahi: I’m surprised she didn’t yell at him for not being there.
Cherry: That sounds like something Rebecca would have done.
"We need to investighat Chocolove" Jacub said. Tanishashanqua wasn't sure at first since this was her dad and this meant that he was a lying cheator on her mother because shes a year older than angela (Tanishashanqua is 18) so now she had a reason to rebel.
Briar: Yikes, I feel bad for Tanishashanqua, in this case.
Briar: Her dad cheated on her mom.
"Jacob you go find Alicia and do that." Tanishashanqua said while taking control of the situation.
Asahi: Tanishashanqua is the true boss here.
She was preparing to distance, I could really tell. Jacub ran off and then Edowerd Tanishashanqua and me were left. "We need to go find Alec and Jane, some is telling me that they are more into this than we think." Tanishashanqua said and with that we were off to go an interrogate the two.
Cherry: Well, they are part of the Volturi.
AN: I have decided on what I will do after kronicals I will write a prequel telling of how angela became the vampire bitch that she is today I hope you all red it when it comes out BUT THIS ISNT ADVETISING SO DON'T TAKE IT THAT WAY GEEEZE
Briar: Why would you insert it in the middle of the story?
Briar: Why not at the end?
Cherry: Why ya think we want to know how she became a vamp?
But Tanishashanqua and jacub couldn't do it so they caem back. Then we were the 5 crusdaers again because clarity was a robot for arrow who was piloting her quickly. The 5 of us were there to crusade against esme and shit so we went out to buy dresses and suits for the guys for the upcoming school dance.
Briar: That’s nice of them, their buying the guys dresses and suits.
I had a feel that esme would attack then because she is a mega fucking bitch who ruins everything he touches.
Asahi: Esme just wants to be a mom and have a family.
We went to the market district [AN: ITS FAR FROM THE GETTO ONE TANISHASHQNA DOESN'T COME OUT HERE MUCH BECAUSE SHES POR]
Briar: Thanks for emphasizing.
to buy fresses for the dance. I saw one that was fucking beautiful with maching pink laces on the gown and Alicai told me to buy it. But at first I didn't have any money but then I remembered that when I killed Chardly I stole his wallt too so I opened that up and took the money from it.
Asahi: Wow.
Asahi: You kill the man and steal from him. That’s low.
I felt bad for about a second I mean it was his fault he dyed the stupid fucker
Cherry: Rude.
so I took the money and began to use it to pay for the dress when then I saw who the casher was!
"CHADLEY WHAT THE FUOCK" I scremed! Jacub Edowedr Alicai and Tanishahsnqua all looked amazed and then scared and then worried. "I thought you died" I sed crying because this was so emenstionul for me.
Briar: Wait? Charley is alive?
"actuall you killed me swine" he sed.
Asahi: She is swine. That is true.
I looked at him and he was a vampire just like Edowerd and Alicai and Esme and Angela and all the others.
"WHAT THE FUCK YOU FUCKER YOU HAVE TO PAY FOR THAT" I screemed! I mean geeze he didn't have to go do that if he was alive all along.
Cherry: Your logic astounds me.
"But wait we flamed the house" edowerd spoke to say. "how can you be?!"
"Esme saved me fool she took my body and vamped it out" he sed and then he stuck his arm out at me and graped my throat. It really fucking hurt but not as much as the payne in my heart from having to have to put down chadley again for being an abomeration.
Briar: For starters, this is justified, you killed him. It’s called revenge.
Briar: Second. Abomination? Wow, that means Alicia and Edwards are abominations, too.
I cut off his hand with my Katana and then engaged him in combat.
"fuck you" I said and then cut his head off. His body fell.
Asahi: Can’t you just let the man live?
"Yay way to go" Jacub chwrd and me but then he got all scared all of a sudden! "Rebecca look at the scene!" he said trying to warn me! I looked back and there was the head! It was floating and being!
Cherry: Don’t you hate it when heads start floatin?
"WHAT!? BUT I KILLED YOU!" I SCREAMED
"you did not kill me hard enough fool" he sed and then tore my dress in half with his zombie toeth. "Besides before I die I have to tell you the secret of what Esme is going to kill you with!" he scremed so then I stopped trying to kill him to listen. If he had disciplined earlier none of this would have ever happened it was all fucking chadley's fault!
Asahi: She is a pro at shifting the blame.
Briar: It’s amazing, really.
"what" I sed huffing expectantly
"Esme is going to mutate the town using radio waves from the radio station! And if you do not stop her than she is going to nuke everything!"
Briar: Mutate and then nuke? What point is there in the mutations, then?
then he finished and opened a portal and flew his head in and then the portal closed as I called him a fucker because right now hes being one goddamit.
"We have to fight aggrsively Esme will mutate the entire town if we do not stop the radio from spreading! She has the nuke and she will use it if we lose!" Alicai said taking out her gun. Tanishashanqua also took out her gun Jacub took out his ax and Edowerd his nales as the Crusdaer Crew got ready for battle.
Cherry: Why’s Edward all in the clear now? Did we miss an apology or explanation?
Briar: I don’t think we did.
We left the store but before that I all got my dance dress on because the chaser was dead wich meant free clothes!
Cherry: That’s not how that works.
When we got to the outside Esme was flying in the air. The sky was green from the radio's waves. Rose was flying too because she can be a fucking bitch.
"SUCK ON MY VOLCAN BAKEMEAT REBECA YOU SHIT MUFIN" Esme sop and Rose confom it
Asahi: Volcan… Bakemeat…?
Asahi: What the Hell?
That's when her army of zombies appeared and shit went residint evil on us the zombies were under esme's control so when she told them to attack they listened.
Cherry: She’s gonna make me hate RE, ain’t she?
Anya the bold and serkades were there too. But you know what fuck this shit I'm tired of these fuockers.
"FUCK YOU" I said as I took out my katana and cut off anyas head because guess what IM TRIED OF YOU RUNNING MY STORY WITH YOUR BAD INFLICTS ON EVERTHING GO BACK TO TH WHOLE YOU CLIMBED FROM!
Briar: Because that is mature.
Briar: Real mature.
Then I saw serkades but it was fine because Edowedr chopped his dick off with a chainsad they got from alicai.
"that is is Esme, Rebecca, we cannot die" I was told but there was too much fighting I culdnt tell who sed it. Whoever they are they were right. I took a gun from serkades because drug dealers have guns and shot it at Esme but her shield pooped up and she burned the shot to the ground! I fell distressed and dazzled because what the fuock can I even do in this situation.
Asahi: You can die.
"REBECCA!" Jacub shouted from afar "I BELIEVE IN YOU!" and with that I was better. Alicai my friend came running towards me wile Jacub and Tanishahsanqua fought zombies and shit.
"To defeat her you need to rock the fuck out" alicai told me as she handed me a rocking electic gitar made out of diamond from mars all for an awesome solo wile she took out an expensiv blood-ruby encrusted gold fiddle and got ready to fuck the rock out of me.
Cherry: I’m sorry? What?
Asahi: Did this turn into a fiddle contest with the Devil?
"take this… it is… a jew!"
Briar: A…Jew?
I looked at esme in the sky and punked the fuck out. We busted into a song that pursed the heavens of everything it had and bellowed to hell itself and then the core of the planet causing the molten iron in it to rush out like a Vulcan and bake the fucking shit off of esme's face which it did. The earth shattered in half braking apokalypticly because of my beautiful lyrics.
Briar: I don’t think destroying the world is a good thing.
Asahi: It’s definitely not a good thing.
"AAARRRGGGHHH REBECCA!"
"YES!?" I screemed to esme who was being fired and burned by the firey hot magma of my sin
Cherry: Ya admit it’s a sin, at least.
"FUCK YOU" she screemd and then teleported away but Rose didn't she got caught in the flames of ym torture and then the olten iron became a hand which dragged her down into hell.
"REBECCA SAVE ME" she screemed so I stopped my solo but it was too late Rossey was sicked into a molten spicy hellish land that is pretty bad but not as bad as what goes on in my heart mot of the time. Fuck you if you don't thnk Rebecca is deep.
Asahi: I guess fuck me.
Cherry: She’s bout as deep as a puddle.
Anyways after that we went home because seriously I was fucking done with everything today my dress was burned clarty was a piloted and angela was on the moon and now rossey's in fuckign hell which is just bad but I secretly thinks that she deserves it.
Asahi: Really racking up those ‘good person’ points.
Cherry: Ah, it’s Hell. Practically vacation.
chapter 32 - prom
It was the nite of the prom Anya Serkades and Chardley were all dead, angela was on the moon and rossey was in hell so for now all my problems wer solved.
Asahi: Well, Esme is still around.
Jacub showed up to the dor in a fucking sexy Indian outfit with only his you know what covered because that's what the indiens wore before we cockenered them.
Cherry: This sounds kind of racist.
Alice was also wearing something
Briar: I would hope she’s wearing something.
Edward had a suit on becauses hes an old school boy and jasmine was earing and Tanishashanqua was there too wearing stuff but not sa mine nice because she's a poor fucker.
Asahi: Can you not be a rude friend for one chapter?
We also had our instruments so that we could make a band at the dance because were going to play when we get there for the entire school.
"Wait Rebecca was what about esme?" Jacob opened his mouth and said.
Cherry: As opposed to when he talks with his mouth shut.
"do not worry I have a plan" I told him winking but no blinking because blinking is for emus.
Briar: …Everyone…blinks.
Asahi: She’s just dumb.
Anyways I rode Jacob all the way there and then got off when we got there. I also brought all of the instruments for our band its called "Opposite feelings give double abstinency" and its about how Judah rocks and how we will speed his world to the word.
Cherry: Ah, so basically Christian Rock.
When we got ther the dance was full all of the surviving students wer there.
Asahi: After everything they’ve been through, they deserve a dance to forget.
Jacub was my date so I was going to paes religion class like Aro wanted
Cherry: I forgot about that rule.
and esme was there too she was standing on top of the tower loking down evily at everyone and thigns.
The everything was dancing like a whore with pneumonoultramicroscopicsili covolcanokoniosis and jetengining and shit.
Briar: …Your diseases are fucking weird.
Cherry: I can promise ya that aint a real disease.
I saw bella she was an emo shit so I smacked her on the way in. Everybody laufhged at that fucking whore so we went back to dancing.
Asahi: I see we’re back to being horrible to Bella.
Asahi: The good could not last.
It was a slow song called my heart will travel on and Jacub and I dancd and made out during the dance it was so cuuute.
Briar I’ll take your word for it.
The we stated playing our band for the prom so those shitty emo fucks could mosh the fuckers.
Bullet given by bets boys
Given by all bet boys can do
Luzel try to prize up you
Willow tasted everything
Asahi: Well that song sounds like shit. Maybe it’s because it’s in English? Maybe it’s just a shit song.
Cherry: It’s a bad song.
I could see satan in my mind trying to stop me from playing but I kept going on because THAT WEAK FUCKER CAN SUCK MY TAINT!
Briar: Well, Satan just sucks.
Bawu go away to ERROR TRANSLATION CODE fc at 405e
[][]
[][]
[][]
[][]
[] JMLITE'SWID YIE CR
DRUGS TAKETO FLITE
Asahi: …What?
Cherry: Ah, I love singing “fc at 405e,” “[] [] [] [],” and “Jmlite’swid yie cr”
The cowd rared as I busted out my epic gitar solo which also shok the foundations of the school and the earth
Cherry: Can ya not summon Hell this time?
. It didn't purse the heavens but it did cause the fucking obnockshis decorations to fall onto the prom comity which I thought was funny. But then something happened as I played the gitar began to grow and growand got fucking big and green and throbbing.
Asahi: That is uncomfortable imagery.
It throbbed so hard that heaven blew up I could see it from here. Then Hell too because half the planet was already gone it was weak from prevous strikes.
"REBEBCCA THANK YOU" people screemed astheir souls were saved by me, THE GERATEST PERSON IN AL LTHE WORLD
Briar: I’m sorry, but you’re not.
Asahi: Not even close to being a good person.
"YOU ARE WELCOME" I said to world walking the rabid truble that lay in my way.
Then the president of the school Esme came to satge to announce the winners of the election.
"hello dear children. Rossey is in hell so there will be no competition but before lthat lies we will talk about the prom king and queen!" she said and everybody cheered except me and my friends becuz we no fucking whore that esme.
"JACUB WINS PROM KING"
Asahi: I don’t know how American schools work. Can someone who’s not a student win prom king?
Cherry: As far as I know, no?
she screemd and jacub jumped into the stage and accepted his reward. He was shirtless and shit and he was so so fucking hot I mean fuck I wanted to have sex right there I even got a bit wet.
Briar: For someone who’s so angry when people say they want to have sex with you, you sure are a hypocrite.
"HOLY SHIT BELLA WON PROM QUEEN" she screemd with her middle finger up at me.
Cherry: You earned it!
Briar: Good job, Bella! I voted for you.
Asahi: Same, she had my vote.
But then wen bella got up on stag to accept her prom award we duped a bucket of blood onto her to humiliate her in the eys of the world. The world got up and cheerd because every fucking person hates that shitty bitch.
Cherry: Didn’t you ever watch Carrie?
Cherry: That’s a bad thing ta do!
Asahi: Well, time for everyone to die.
She cried and cryed and then Mark dragged her off the stage like a cow. But for some reason I felt a ping of badness in my hart. Why did this feel wrong? She deserted it!
Briar: No one deserves that!
Briar: What is wrong with you?
"NO ITS ACTUALLY REEBCEA" esme screemd
Asahi: Why you do us dirty like that?
and I got up to take my crown as my prize. I had on a beatufil fucking gorgeous dress and everybody thought I was the hottest girl in the rom everyone wanted to fuock me but I was saving myself for Jacob later tonight.
Briar: What happened to waiting until marriage?
Asahi: Knew that wasn’t going to last.
"yo motherfucker good job." I turned my head to see who the fuck called ME a motherfucker and It was Obomba he was here to give me my reward!
Cherry: Look, I’m sure Obomba’s got plenty more important stuff ta do than be here.
Obomba is the president of the country! He was wering a swhil traditional dress and shit.
Asahi: I’m sure he’s rocking his dress.
Asahi: But this honestly is starting to sound like that R/ThatHappened.
Cherry: We just need peeps to start clappin.
"you are an example for us all" Obomba sad and he put the crown on me because I was the president and empress of the danse! Everybody clapped their hands for me and even gave me a bouget of flowers they were fucking orange daisys.
Cherry: There’s the clappin.
"HELL FOOL YOU WILL PAY FOR THAT!" I looked oer and it was Chocolove he was stating down Obomba!
Asahi: “How dare you give her flowers when it’s our anniversary! You know orange daisies are my favorite!”
"FUCK YOU BITCH YOU ANSWER TO ME" Obamba screemed and took out a breedsword and treated Chocoloev with me.
"NO OBOMBA DON'T DO IT HE IS UMMINE TO SORDS WITHOUT BLADE UNLIKE YOURS" I screemd but it was no use because Chocolove used his energy barier to atomic ombo's ass.
Briar: Sword immunity? I could use something like that.
As he died he outstretched his arms to Judah and said "god save me, my body!" but then he passed to the other side but then didn't because I had pursed heaven and freed all souls so he just lay their soules.
Cherry: Right, cause making sure there’s no spiritual afterlife’s so great.
Asahi: Kind of sucks.
But then chocolate love appeared and summond his Mick his jaarga and then became a lance to use against me! Chocolove took the lance and threw it at me
Asahi: Is anyone else following this fight? Because I’m still not sure what’s going on and why it’s going on.
Cherry: Don’t look at me. I’m just pretendin’ it makes sense.
"MY SPEAR ROD WILL PIERSE YOU" he screemed
Asahi: Kinky.
and then I dodged so it hit that fucking atrocious hag jane instead. She started grolowing and shit and then exploded into a booldy mess all over my fucking gorgeous dress. I WAS FUCKING ANGRY.
Briar: I get the feeling she hates all the canon female characters except Alice and possible Rosalie.
Asahi: That’s probably an accurate assumption.
But before I could do anything the moon started to crash into the planet! I looked up and it was ANGELA! SHE WAS PILOTING THE MOON INTO THE SCHOOL!
Cherry: While that sounds freakin’ awesome, it’s completely implausible an I’ll use some science an facts to show why.
Cherry: It’s generally accepted that an asteroids gotta be at least nine miles ta do some extensive damage to Earth on impact. Hell, the Cicxulub impactor is estimated t’be be at least seven miles in diameter—though to be more precise, it’s from seven to fifty miles in diameter. No one really knows for sure cause no one was there to measure it when it picked a fight with the earth.
Cherry: That’s the asteroid that wiped out the dinos.
Cherry: The moon? The moons over a thousand miles in diameter. You can imagine what’d happen.
Cherry: Though speed of impact is a factor. Even if yer goin’ at a snails pace, you’re gonna do some massive damage.
Cherry:…What the Hell, can I keep this random facts thing after I leave the theater? I’d ace every test!
"YOU FUCKER YOU THINK YOU KILL CAN ME THAT EASILY" she SCREAMED. She made a cross with her moon and then attacked chocolove with it and he tried to deflect with his hands! He was fast but she drove the moon like a fucking professional.
Asahi: Not to mention it’s… well… the moon.
"NO HOMIE DON'T KILL MY DAD HE'S ALL I HAVE LEFT" Tanishashanqua screemed as she got between Chocolove and the moon.
Briar: Wait, if Chocolove is Tanishashanqua and Angela’s dad, they’re sisters, right?
Asahi: Yep. Gonna be a fun family reunion between those three, Bella and Renée.
The entire dance stopped to look at the scene it was so beautiful and we could touch it.
Cherry: You’d think they’d be freakin’ out because someone’s bringing the moon to the Earth.
Angela stopped and stared crying because all she evr wanted was to be runited with her long last dad after he mom dyed of AIDS when agela was only 5
Cherry: Aww… I feel bad for her. Losing your mom sucks, specially that young.
I also lafed when that happen the fucking whore.
Cherry: What the fuck?
Asahi: Yeah, whatever good points she’s acquired for saving Bella, she’s losing all of them this chapter.
Then something ajazing happened! Tanishahsnaqua's word touched angela and she stoped her rampage. She hot off the moon to go and hug cocolove and then the three embraced each other. They were a famil yagain it was a beautiful site to see!
Briar: And then they directed their murderous rage at Rebecca.
Then Jane came back from the beyond because I blew up heaven and hell with my music so she then told as "WE HAVE TO GO" quickly because the moon was coming.
Cherry: Thank ya! Thank ya for noticing the freaking moon is goin’ to collide with the Earth!
"but why" I screemed
Asahi: Because the moon!
"Because Cocolove is going to try to kill you bitch" she screemed and then made magic with her fingers and screemed "METEOR". Then the moon got up and started attacking again and Chocolove took out his lance to stop it.
Briar: …I’m just imagining that the moon sprouted some arms to fight with.
Asahi: Heh. That’s a funny mental image. Only way ‘the moon started attacking again’ makes sense.
"WILD MOTHERFUCKER YOU AINT GOT NOTHING ON ME" Chocoloe scremed as he fought off the moon from the dance. Angela helped too "I will protect my daddy!" she screemed. But then piloted Clarity [AN: ARROW]
Cherry: As if we forgot Green Arrow’s in her.
and Mark and Cayus all appeared! They were the Volture!
Asahi: Oh, no! They are?
Asahi: Who would have known!
"IT IS THE TIME TO BATTLE YOU AND KILL YOU REBECCA!" Esme screemd "VOLTURE! ROLL THE FUCK OUT AND FUCK HER UP!" and with that we engaged them in a epic battle.
Briar: We will have to take your word for it.
Edward took out his nales and fought Cayus wile Alice took out her gun and stated to fight the robot Clarity while Jacub fought Mark with his axe.
"Tanishahsnqa help me figh esme!" I screemed as I pushed a student out fo the way of an e nergy beam. I took out a grenade and threw it as esme flew around the room shooting of kamehamehas and shit but it didn't' stop her!
Cherry: What? We’re in Dragon Ball now?
Cherry: If I don’t see Vegeta showing up an’ curbstompin’ all of em, Imma revolt.
"FUCK I CANT HIT HER!" I screemed!
"she is not immoral" Tanishahsnqua sad wile shooting her getto gun. It was a sene to see! Tanishashqnau's mech arm turned into a gatling gun and started machine gunning that fucking bitch
Asahi: Yang?!
"TAKE THISSSSSSS" she screemed! But then the fucking sluts sulpichia and nympho appeared and thired to use magic on Tanishashanqua.
Cherry: The who the what now?
"FIRAGA" bympho screemed
"BLIZARGA" Sulpy screened
Asahi: Oh. Now we’re in Kingdom Hearts. Yay…
"NOOOO NOT MY SISTER" and with that Angela took the hit for Tanishahsnqua. Jane took the other one that hag and disintegrated so tht her soul could never return to her fucking ugly ass boody.
Briar: Can you stop being rude? Please? Just for once?
Cherry: Honestly I liked Jane? She was actually pretty cool in the books?
But angela was okay wich was polished good because Tanishahsnqua cant afford the operation to save angela if she died.
Asahi: Polished good?
Asahi: What is with American slang?
Asahi: What does it mean? What does it mean!?
"Angela you are my sis put aside your differences and work with me to fight evil" Tanishashanqua said and esme was killing motherfuckering normal students with her kamehamehame's.
Cherry: And you suddenly care?
"I WILL TRY" angela said redeemed for all of her actions as she began to.
Asahi: That’s the laziest redemption arc I’ve ever seen
Cherry: It makes me cringe.
But then esme flew onto me and pushed me really fuckign far away but it didn't last because "TELEPORT" I heard.
Suddenly me Edowerd and Bella were all in a dark house.
Asahi: For the love of—!
Asahi: Let Bella be out of this story so she can be safe and at peace!
"were we go to?" Bella say. Then I thought as I recognized the house! It was… THE COLLINS MANOR!
Briar: Because they live in a manor, the best way to avoid suspicion.
"ITS EDOWERD'S HOUSE!" I screemed. "But who teleported us!?" I asked edowerd. "The Hag is dead!" Edowerd nodded and turned is back to me.
Asahi: Can you maybe be respectful to people for once in your life?
Cherry: She’d die if she did.
"I know who" EDowerd said. Suddenly…. CHOCOLOVE STEPPED OUT INTO THE FOYAY.
" Chocolove what are you-" bella began but then Chocolove took out a gun that was fucking huge and aimed it at us.
Briar: Hey, Edward. Right now would be a good time to use that vampiric speed to save them.
"The plan commences" he said and then blew bella's entire fucking head straight off and all of the blood got on me again.
Asahi: That’s it!
Asahi: I’m rioting!
Asahi: Screw this! You killed the only person I actually care about in this story. How dare you?
Everythign stopped.
AN: this chapter was edited by Kurshee aka Yammama who is the only one who fucking hels with this shit.
Briar: How is it that people keep agreeing to edit?
But I leaned from before that you can trust these fuockers so after this he's fird to. FUCK YOU YAMAMA
Cherry: Well, that’s not very professional.
Cherry: Yamama was just tryin’ t’be nice by helping you with this awful fic.
In that moment, things suddenly became clear. There wasn't anymore confusion in my mind. No, that's not true. I was paralyzed in shock still.
Briar: How is it that the death of someone you hate and constantly abuse is what shocks you, but everyone else dying doesn’t even bother you?
The blood from what used to be Bella's head was splattered all over me.
Asahi: Screw you!
This wasn't like when Alice used those non lethal bullets.
Cherry: Hah. Yeah. Non-lethal.
Bella's entire head was gone. Spread out over the foyer floor, never to be reassembled.
Briar: Until she remembers there is no heaven and so her soul returns like Janes did when she was killed the first time.
Cherry: Consistence? TwilightRova don’t know her.
Before I could even turn to look at her killer, another gunshot went off. It took a moment to register. A warm red liquid was seeping out of my abdomen. He got me, too. I tried to cover the wound with my shaky hands.
Asahi: Hey, guys?
Asahi: Is it just me, or is this chapter actually… good?
Cherry: Yeah… there’s not been any spelling mistakes, at least outside the authors note. The story is plausible so far…
Cherry: Why the Hell would ya fire Yamama if this is the kind of quality we get with them editin’?!
"W-why?.." I manage to mutter. Blood is seeping out of my mouth. I might have been able to take this had Angela not done so much damage to me yesterday. I don't have much time.
Briar: By the Gods, acknowledging the beatdowns that Rebecca has gotten in the previous chapters and it’s ill-effects it will have on her health?
Briar: I’m without words!
"You should've played along when you had the chance, girl." My assailant caustically berated me from his position at the top of the staircase.
Asahi: “Caustically”! I never thought I’d see that word used in this kind of story!
Asahi: And mentioning his position! The angle and distance that’s implied!
Cherry: Shit, this chapter is good!
"Now, vampire. Finish her." I glanced at Edward as he was ordered around. His hooded eyes had turned a crimson red.
Briar: Edwards working with Chocolove?
Briar: Wait, this explains why he attacked her earlier!
Asahi: Damn. That’s actually good.
"Don't do it Edward!"
"Why shouldn't he?"
Cherry: Honestly, I want Edward to kill her.
Asahi: Yeah, regardless of the jump in quality, and boy is it a jump, I still hate Rebecca. She can die.
"Because... Because if for just one moment I don't keep up this facade of fake-perfection, you'll realize how empty I am on the inside. Yeah, empty would be the best word to describe it. You see Bella over there? She's empty too. She's dead. Chocolove killed her."
Briar: And you suddenly care? You constantly abuse her, you tried to kill her on multiple occasions, you stabbed and shot her. Honestly, if it wasn’t Chocolove, it would have been you who killed her.
I stumble to the ground as I finish, blood and flesh searing from my wound. "I bet you he always planned it to, just like he and my mother did for me!" I was laughing maniacally now.
Asahi: Oh? He’s connected to her mother? There’s more to her tragic backstory than what we know?
The walls were beginning to pulsate in and out, blending and bending the fabric of the room together and apart. I'm being pulled apart.
Cherry: I like this line.
Cherry: I actually like this line!
"They hid me from the world for years so that when I was finally released, I would be a tyrant." Chocolove steadies his aim on me as he descends the stairwell; his face says it all. Stop speaking at once or I will end you here and now.
But you know what?
Things are clear for the very first time for me. Something locked away has finally surfaced.
Fuck him.
Briar: Damn.
Asahi: *Whistles*
Cherry: This chapter is makin’ me hate this story less and less.
Cherry: For once Rebecca is a good narrator. Not a good character, but damn this is good narration.
"Don't listen to this girl, Edward," Chocolove says with a certain smoothness to his voice. He extends his hand towards Edward while keeping the gun aimed at my head. In this moment, I don't even know where I am anymore. Things are wobbly, and I can barely see Edward. He's leaning closer and closer to Chocolove, considering which of the two of us to try and go after.
Briar: The detail! The description! The way you can feel and see what’s going on!
Briar: This editor was a Godssend.
I can't let Chocolove convince him to gut me. I can't let it end here. Anywhere but here.
"NO! Don't you get it by now Edward!? I act the way I do because if I don't, then people will realize that I'm nothing!"
Asahi: We knew you were nothing even with you acting that way.
Every piece of my body screams out in a putrid agony, begging for relief. I can't stop though; if I stop for a moment then I lose my only chance at survival. I have to bring Edward back to his senses. "Deep down, I'm hollow inside. I was made to be hollow. I was engineered to be hated from the very beginning, to give all of humanity something to hate together; to unite them under one common cause."
Cherry: I don’t like how meta this is gettin.
Cherry: It scares me.
As Edward backs away from Chocolove, my tears litter the messy floor of the foyer. I'm failing. I have to keep convincing him that I'm not worth preying on. "My death." I couldn't stop myself from breaking out into laughter, interrupted only by sobs and blood I would cough up. I was cracking. I couldn't even tell if it's from the pain or from the despair.
Asahi: Both.
Asahi: Now you know what we felt these past thirty-some chapters.
Everything I had done in my life, it all hit me. Poor, poor Bella. Charlie. Jane. I've mistreated everybody around me. I deserve this fate. I deserve to die, alone and afraid.
Cherry: Yes, you do.
All I can do was collapse and cry.
"Edward, what I have done here is for the greater good. A monster such as Rebecca has no place in society. She is to be feared, not loved; despised, not pitied." The man preached with a twisted sense of conviction.
Briar: I want to agree with you, I really do.
Briar: But you’re not entirely likable either, Chocolove.
Asahi: You’re just making us feel pity for her, now.
Like a rubber band that had been stretched too far, something inside of me broke. The recoil echoed through my body, sending my slumped figure into a spasm. A burning sensation began to grow in my chest, and in a moment of clarity I grasped at my abdomen. The searing pain got worse and worse, and I was back on my side, screeching in agony. The realization that I was not simply shot had dawned on me. There was a hole through my body, as big as my first, running all the way through. I'm already dead.
Asahi: Damn, the quality.
Asahi: I can’t get over how good it is.
In an instant, the walls of reality came crumbling down upon me. Each breath in this world took years to finish, while every thought was over in an instant. Just as suddenly as I entered this trance, I left it with a conviction. There was not a thing holding me back anymore. I rose to my feet, gripping my Katana with both hands. Before he even had a chance to react, I charged Chocolove and ran him through with my sword. I kicked Edward with all my might, sending him flying back through a wall. This was the strength I was given by my creator.
Cherry: Ah! The fourth wall! She kicked Edward through it!
The strength to choose my own destiny.
"Up until this point, I have had the displeasure of trying to comprehend life here. Now I see that I was never meant to understand life as it is in the first place; this is because I was constructed to be a hollow being." I run him through again, pinning the scientist to a wall of the manor using his own daughter's sword.
Briar: Oh, yeah. The katana was given to her by Angela. I actually forgot because it never got mentioned again.
Briar: A good throwback.
"What you perhaps do not understand, Chocolove, is how genius your plans were. In fact, part of me wishes to commend you for them. Hiding me from the world for years so that when I was finally released, I would be a tyrant? Priceless. Literally engineering a child which would grow into a being that would be despised and ridiculed for its apparent mental illness? Utter brilliance. Revealing this all to me, however? I would say that I'm disappointed, but that would require me to be able to feel. Something which, according to you, I've never been capable of doing."
Asahi: She’s right. She really does lack any feelings that aren’t self-centered vanity.
He struggles to reply as I talk to him, locked to the wall by my blade.
"Throughout all your planning and deviancy, you failed to remember one important detail about what you were doing. You were making me unique, Chocolove. A Rarity. Something truly special. In your quest to create something that people would strive to exterminate, you developed a being unlike any other. A being made entirely out of weaknesses and flaws."
"You see Chocolove, even with the discord that would run through my head, I learned something important. No matter what, people can get by and change despite their flaws. It's one of the most humanistic traits I can think of. And yet, I had been just beginning to display those kinds of traits myself- Shedding that coat of superiority and stupor to connect with people who I never dreamed were so interesting! Does that make me human, Mr. Judah Chocolove?" His eyes flare as he hears that name.
Cherry: Holy shit!
Cherry: Chocolove is Judah!?
Asahi: Things make sense. Things are making sense at it is so disorientating.
The name of the man who raised me. The name of the man who I had been conditioned to forget since day one. The name of the man who brought me into this world.
"No, it doesn't. Because according to you, a monster can never change. A monster has no potential to love, to learn, or even to live. Its only defining characteristic is that it is the antithesis to humanity." I twist the Katana ever so slightly. He bears the pain, only wincing.
"Somehow though, you created a person capable of experiencing every feeling across the spectrum, something that directly contradicts with your definition of what a monster is! You tortured them and broke them and finally molded them into a being so heinous, so vile, that people would band together just to erase it and every trace of it from this world."
"If you had only given me a chance, Judah! All I ever wanted to just to be loved- Nowhere was it written that I had to walk into that school every day of my life honestly believing that my actions had no consequences, that I had the power to murder people because I was some perfect sparkling princess. I didn't have to be that psychotic, foolish, selfish, ridiculously weak bitch- A twisted girl who only was warranted interest when she did something murderous!"
"Forget, for just a moment, about how you destroyed the life I never had, and try to consider the lives of all the people I've killed because you made me into this. Take a couple of moments. Good. What could you possibly say to make that better? I killed Charlie- the only adult who ever tried to help me. You've killed Bella."
"It is nothing but one road bump in an otherwise flawless-" Chocolove began. I twist the Katana further. He lets out a small shriek.
"What am I going to do about this, you ask? I'll tell you what. I'm going to throw a wrench in your plan right now and end it." This is it. I want to see the fear in his eyes.
"You fool."
What?
"Do not take me for a weakling due to my profession, dearest Rebecca."
Where's the fear? I have him pinned. There's no escape!
Briar: This is getting so good.
Briar: I don’t even know what to say.
"There's no way to unite people without the common enemy, is there?"
"What are you-?" My sentence is cut off. He frees himself in an instant. He's fast, faster than anything I have ever seen. In less than a moment, we have traded places. I'm pinned up against the wall by a lance through my mid section.
"I'm starting anew, Rebecca. You are not my only experiment. It's time to clean up loose ends." He smirks, taking the lance out.
Asahi: Oooh! This is good!
Briar: The dialogue, the suspense! The emotion!
Cherry: Are we even still readin’ the Kronicals of Rebecca Swansin? This is too good.
This is my only chance.
I gathered up every ounce of might I had left in my frail body and tried to move out of the way. I wasn't fast enough. He drove the lance through my skull.
Darkness took over.
Briar: Can we just end it here?
Briar: Please?
Briar: This was so good.
AN: okay so frum now on this is the break in Kornicals. I will be trying a new story it will be better then this one you guys.
Asahi: Not hard to surpass all the other chapters. But this one? This one is going to be hard to beat.
It will start angela on her journey and then maybe when ie writen a bit of that i wil come back to Kornicals and continue witing it (i have idea of how to countie it but withu editor it will be betrayd SO REED IT wHEN IT COMES OUT BUT THIS ISNT ADVETISING JUST KINDA SO THINKS FOR REEDING! 333
Briar: Okay, a lot of that didn’t make sense. Only that this isn’t advertisement and that the rest of the chapters won’t be edited.
Cherry: I’m scared.
Chapter 34 – ALIVE AGIN
"what fuck" I sed as I got up shakily.
Asahi: Ah, damn.
Asahi: Back to this crap.
Briar: I miss the beautifully written chapter.
"wate what how the fuck!? I kill you but you survive that? mtoherfucker" chcolove sed to me.
Cherry: I want the other Chocolove back, the one who was written like a suave villain and not a bitch.
"I don't know gtfo you just killed me" You! I say and then do! Cocolove got his lance out and looked mega fuocking confused.
Briar: We’re all confused.
And then vamporized and dispeared into the darkness. I was in a graveyard and so was bella to. We were both fucing fuocking confused because last I remember I was killed by lance and bella was bullet by shot.
Cherry: By all accounts, it doesn’t make sense.
"just kidding, lol" bella say getting up now alive and better.
Asahi: Thank God.
She lauhs and smiles and says "I just pretended to die I can do that you know"
Briar: Useful skill. Getting your head shot off and surviving, very useful.
and then we hi 5 becaused this was a plan we had emergiencially planend out every since the beginning of the last chapter. Bella would fake dye and I would faek dye to make motherfucoker Chocolove reveel just how evil he was that raggot.
Asahi: Yeah, that’s a lie.
Cherry: Smells like a liar.
"Rebecca wtf your body it has changed!" bella say looking to me. I standed back and looked at myself and then I realized I was not me!
Briar: Ah, those out of body experiences where you realize you’re not you.
"it was my soul even though my body dyed my soul didn't go to heaven or hell so it found a new body!" I say. And then I realized!
MY BODY WAS BELLA'S AND BELLA AND ME WERE SHARING A BOODY!
Asahi: Big yikes.
Cherry: Bella kick her out of your body!
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I scream becuz Bella and Bella I was had to share the femae genitalia that is my body!
Briar: Technically it is Bella’s body.
Briar: You have to share her genitals.
"we have to fix this fucking fast you shitbitch" Bella say now no longer friend since mutual enemy in Chocolive was defeated.
Asahi: Was he really defeated? Was he?
"damn fast" I say. So then we went home to Cullen manner and I went to the bathroom and I started my moisturizing treatment because bella's face is filled with goddamn motherfucking acne and shit because she never fucking takes care of it.
Briar: Bella is pretty stop making things up.
Or was it my face now. Or was it Bella's? Who was even thinking this I no one don't even know at this uppity point somebody fucking put me back in my own body!
Cherry: Or just exorcise your soul and let you die.
"Rebecca's soul now lungers inside of Bella's" Jacob explained to Alicia, Tanishashanqua, Edowerd, Alec, and everybuddy else who didn't try to fucking MURDUR me earlier
Briar: When did they get here?
[I explained, you do not want to kill me rite now trust me] after I explicated it towards him. But Jacob didn't expantiate it right and it was like he was trying to place some of the blame on me!
Asahi: “Rebecca’s soul now lingers inside of Bellas” How is that placing the blame on you? It’s stating the facts.
Asahi: Your soul is in Bella’s body.
Like it was my fault that my soul piloted into Bella's body afterwards and her fatass soul didn't get the fuck out of my way. Maybe if her soul stopped eating so many fucking pillbugs on the playground then she wouldn't be so fucking ugly that motherfucker.
Cherry: Can you not be rude to her? You have to share a body.
Edowerd said: "hello friend I will stick with you from now as a simple form of Rebella!"
"Yes Rebella is an excellent name for the organism" Carlisle the father Collin came in and said.
Cherry: I mean, if it fits.
Briar: Becca would have been better, personally. Bella, Rebecca. Becca.
"I love her she's even cuter than the real Bella!" Jacob squirted. Right then Bella's soul popped right out of her body and went into the doll on her desk.
Briar: Of course it did.
Asahi: I hate this so much.
Now I had Bella's body because mine dyed and now Bella was in an old doll because let's face it she has all the charisma and grace of a goddamn fucking dead ass doll.
Asahi: Uuuurgh.
Asahi: all the character development of the last chapter. Gone.
But this meant I had bellas fucing stupid ass brain that failed psychics class two years in a row so im fuocked inn school now.
Cherry: Good.
"You are so cute, Rebecca" Jacob said to me, because I'm not fucing bella anymore. I had taken bella's body in the ethereal struggle for life and that meant I was rightfully at the top of the fucking food chain.
Asahi: Actually, it means you’re a body thief and deserve to be killed for stealing another’s body.
Briar: I’ve handled cases like these before. The remedy is surprisingly simple, the right herbs crushed and mixed together in an elixir, let the fumes fill the room with the subject in it for a few hours and the invading soul with be dragged out.
Briar: Otherwise, the more painful method involves words, magic, and a lot of stabbing.
Briar: since Bella’s soul in a doll and won’t be harmed, I would personally go with the stabbing option.
"But my sword! It was broke in the fight!" I say. Then Angela step forward and tell me something.
"However to beat it, here is something! When I summoned the moon I made a new Katana. Take my Black Katane and use it's super power to fight the force" she say and then gtfo because Nobody wanted to fucking deal with the that shit of her and Tasnishashqna's dad being evil and crap.
Cherry: Rude.
"So Cocolove is evil we must kill that fucker" I said.
Asahi: We kind of knew he was messed up, but I honestly didn’t expect him to be the final boss.
But then angela came "Chocolove you do not need to kill that bastard, we would are evil through blood?"
Briar: Well, you at least are evil.
Briar: You did murder a bunch of people.
"No we must try to save daddy he is just confused!" Tanishashanqua say. She is so kind but I don't take that shit from no one so I smacked her getto ass face and she was all like "did u just fucing do that whore" and I was all like "fuck yeah you wanna go!?" and she pussied out. The ho.
Asahi: Uuuuurgh.
Asahi: This hurts me as a reader, this really, really hurts me.
"we are not worried you shouldn't worried about that" Edowerd say and we did not know why yet. He could tell us. He would tell us.
Briar: Have to emphasize that bit, he could and he would.
"we must now fight esme, the wolves, and now chocolate love. These are three many [AN" see!? Instead of 2many I have 3many!] enemies to fight of!"
Asahi: That’s just… stupid.
Cherry: Why are you fighting the wolves now? I can understand Chocolove, and Esme, but the werewolves? I thought you were cool with them.
"Do not worry about him what we must worry about is the wolves. They are cuming to start the final battle vs the Collins" Jacub say. "But you can change life's tide like the waters of a waterfall can change the course of a farm" he also say.
Briar: The wolves fighting the Cullens is the only thing that makes any sense.
Briar: Even his inspirational line made no sense.
"So if I direct the course of the farms I will be able to turn tide?" I say!? This was a chance!
Asahi: Yes. If you go and change the way the farms are facing, you can change the battle.
"yes I believe so" bells say.
"bella I am sorry this happned we will find a way to get u back in ur uglyass body" I say and then she cryed a teardrop of joy becuz someone was nice to her in her fucking life.
Cherry: I’d be freakin’ delighted if someone finally treated me like a human being.
Cherry: Especially when I’m in this predicament because of the people around me.
"we will deal with this nonsense hell tomorrow" edoweord say and we break the group of me, bella, Alicia, tanishahsnqua, alec, jacub, edowerd, and angela [but not really she will probably turn evil later don't spoil it though].
Asahi: You just spoiled it, though.
Asahi: I mean it’s a crappy spoiler and no one would have been surprised.
Asahi: But you’ve only yourself to blame for this spoiler.
It was time to eat and shit and go to bed though. So I did. Bella went to slep in alicia's dollhose.
Cherry: Ah, yes. Bathroom time for everyone, even the vampires who don’t use the bathroom.
"Tomorrow I will fucking handle this bullshit" I say and go to bed.
Briar: Tomorrow you will likely make it all worse.
Chapter 35 – Working at McDonalds
Cherry: Now that’s a weird change in story.
Cherry: Went from Vampiric-Werewolf war to Fast Food.
Asahi: Yet it’s not farfetched for this story.
Today I woke up from my bed furiously.
Briar: Waking up angry, happens all the time.
I used spellcheck on my paper so that when people like my teechors tried to make fun of it they would b wrong. And they are. And so it shall be!
Asahi: Good, now can you use spellcheck on your story?
Asahi: Please?
"good morning Rebecca" doll bella not human bella said to me nicely. She is so nice ever sins she lost her boody bdecause she knows that I am trying hard to get it back!
Cherry: If you’re tryin’ hard, you’d evict yer soul from her body an let her take it over again.
Thenshe made me EGGS
Asahi: A doll… made you eggs?
Asahi: What is this? Disney?
"work harder you bitch" I say to her and she do. She is like the wicked stepmother.
Briar: You really don’t understand what ‘nice’ means, do you?
Briar: Or wicked?
Cherry: She’s makin’ ya eggs when just openin’ the fridge must be hard as fuck, an your being a bitch to her!
Com to think of it yes that is exactly what she is aftr what she did to me.
Asahi: Bella. Did. Nothing. Wrong.
Asahi: If anything, you’re the wicked stepsister.
Asahi: Actually, scratch that. You’re literal Satan.
But that is another story. It was soething too terribul to write down or say out loud.
Cherry: Probably cause ya can’t think of a justifiable reason for why you’re this terrible to her.
I didn't want to think abut how she sent chardly to kill me. Charly was my friend until became my fiend due to bells's influx.
Briar: No? She didn’t?
Asahi: Charlie didn’t want to kill you. You wanted to take his keys and decided murder was the best way to get them! Bella had nothing to do with it!
Then I realized I was so silly!
Cherry: Everythin’ bout this is silly.
We didn't have school today I laughed and sighed. It was Saturday which is a weekend day! Tomorrow would be Sunday! Then would come Monday the day we went back to school to graduate and enter the worl das adults. I am ready to be an adult.
Briar: Oh, it’s that close to graduation already?
Cherry: I get the feelin’ she doesn’t know how the adult world works.
Because it was not the weekstart I went to dairy queen to get siome ice creem because fuck u mainstream shits if you think ice cream is only eating at night.
Asahi: Ice cream is a food you can eat at any time of the day.
But no! I culdnt eat as much I wanted because bel;la's body was fucking fatass. Oh wait it was fat ass. Boys like fat ass so my ass aint gonna not stay fat you fuckers!
Briar: So… your ass is going to stay fat?
Asahi: I guess some guys like asses? I’m not really one of them, I guess.
Cherry: Oh? You’re tits man, then?
Asahi: Ah, no. I guess I just… don’t really care how they look too much?
"Yo homie what's up?" sed Tanishahsqnua who works hard at derry queen when she is not at school or fighting evil with me. "what can I get for you?"
"I want a fucking mcflurry"
Cherry: McFlurry?
Cherry: You’re at Dairy Queen ya pleb! Go to McDonalds if ya want that trash.
"okay just one moment that will be $600" she say.
"NO THAT'S TOO MUCH CASH" I say.
Asahi: Yikes. That much? Well, I guess considering they have to go to McDonalds and buy a McFlurry so they can sell it to her, makes sense.
"too bad bitch were in a recession" she sed to me but no! I took the mcflurry out of that whore Tanishashanqua's hands and left the store. What a bitch trying to steal my hjard earned cash. This was the money from chadley's life insurance how DARE she try to steal it from me! What did she who think she be!?
Briar: So that justifies you stealing from a store?
Briar: Your logic is nonsense.
Cherry: I want to go back to the good chapter this is too painful.
Then I saw Alicia drug deeling behind DQ so I went over to her to talk to her and show her light of god [AN: Rebecca stil worshops Judah from the bible not Judah chocolove you sick fuockers].
Asahi: As far as I care, they’re one in the same.
"hey becca what's good" she say. She looked fuckign gorgeous in her red lipstick red cocktail dress. She say that it helps her to get all of the boys like Serkades before I fucing killed him for being dead earlier last arc.
Briar: You killed him for being dead? Didn’t know dying was such a heinous crime that deserved execution.
"not much" I sed sexily slurping my mcflurry. Unf I was so hot.
"Rebecca you don't do much. You should find a job. Try McDonalds down the street I think they are hiring!" she said fluently!
Asahi: Thanks, Alicia, for pointing that out. Rebecca does absolutely nothing of value.
I went to McDonalds to go an get a job. "I NEED WORK" I said to the bartenders and they were all like "okay you are overkwalified but okay"
Briar: McDonalds isn’t a bar. It’s fast food.
and so now I was behind counters! I waited for my fiorst customer when I saw him I culdnt believe who it was!
"bella why are you working at Mickey D's?" asked Rosally! She had escapd from Hell! BUT HOW!?
Cherry: Cause it’s Rosalie. As if Hell could keep her down.
"how be!?" I screemed at the top of my lungs! "I saw the molten sin drag you to hell, you cannot be!" I flummoxed!
Cherry: Cause it’s Rosalie.
"if you think that will stop me you have a lot of think to still do" she sad. "give me a goddamn double cheeseburger" say.
"that is money" I say.
Asahi: No. That’s a double cheeseburger.
"how about I fucing kill everyone here!?" she escalated!
Briar: That is quite the escalation.
"oh fuck that bullshit" I say and took my katan out and cut her gun in half but then she and I got into a martial arts routine and shit was flying everywhere the cops came to try and stop us but we wer moving at the speed of sound not quite light!
Asahi: That’s one way to lose your job in one day.
"THIS MOON POWERED KATAN BRINGS DEATH!" I screem and chop Rosalie's gun into half!
Briar: Okay, very excessive and rididculous.
Cherry: Sounds like anime BS.
"you fool I am not even using one tent of my power" she say and then her eyes turned red! Sort of like she was vamping out except not! We fught some more, and I dodged her bullits so they blew up the cash registurd!
"goddamit you have to pay for that" I say!
Briar: Or you can, considering you started this.
"fuck you I'm bringing the cash to Esme!" she say and then enacted her assasinial duties and shot my manager. The bitch. I get my $$$ from him!
Cherry: Yer gonna end up fired, anyways.
"Idiot, I did not even use my strength" she say. Her strengthened bullits were no match for me though! But then they wer!
Asahi: And no one is surprised.
Cherry: She’s just so overconfident, and then she realizes that she’s screwed.
Oh no what do now!? Then rose left with the cash and McDonalds was fucing ruined.
"Rebecca you are fired for not stoping her it is your civic duty to protect people" my manager say in deathly breath.
"wait how the fuock do u know I am rebecac and not bella" I ask.
Briar: Because you have to introduce yourself when you get a job and you probably introduced yourself as Rebecca.
Asahi: Of course she’s going to try blaming Bella for this.
"oshit" he say and dyied in my arms, a lover I never got to have.
Briar: You don’t even know his name you’re a rather bad lover.
"Okay seriously fuck this shit" I angrily shoke and I left Mickey D's and went to find a new job becuz this one sucked donkey balls. Maybe I could teach at the indiend restraint where Jacub worked because at this rate forks is a crime zone that nobody shuld have to live in.
Asahi: You’re still a student, you need a teaching degree and I think a license to teach in America. You wouldn’t be accepted.
Cherry: Do you even know anythin’ to teach at a Indian school?
Then it hit me like a semi! It was a semi actually but I am fine don't worry. As I flipped the biord to that fucing semi driver I had a thought and this thought was a good one!
Briar: Unfortunately you survived being hit by a semitruck.
I SHOULD BECOME A COP LIKE CHARDLEY BEFORE ME! I would take his mantle like the prodigigy I am and protect and serve all kinds!
Cherry: I mean, it’s not a bad—
Asahi: Wait for it.
Except Mexicans I don't fucing like them.
Asahi: There it is.
I ran off to the polise station with Jacub! THIS WAS MY CHANCE!
Briar: Your chance to make a bigger fool of yourself? Yes, yes it is.
AN: I m now repoening this sextion to commints.\
Asahi: Oh, goodie. My favorite part.
"OMFG I can't believe Your writing skills! I like a good story Whether it's making fun of Bella or not I mean come on you are probably in 3rd or 4th grade I mean people like you shouldn't even be on this damn site.
Cherry: They’re not wrong. Ya need to be thirteen at least to make an account.
I know 4th graders that sound like Albert Einstein Compared to you. Get some brains and grow up.
-TheTruthDetecter"
Asahi: Speaking the truth, oh TheTruthDetector,
Im soree, how did the operashin to remove that flagpole from your ass go you shitbrick?
Briar: And another stunning example of maturity from TwilightRova. How can someone so mature withstand the people around her?
AN: hahaha u fuckers srsly thugt that the old chaptr 35 was REEL u dumb shits!
Asahi: Ah, yes, calling your readers dumb shits. Such a good move as an author, it’s a wonder why none of the bestselling authors insult their readers more often.
It was may fools like april fools only more secret! Stupid shits.
Cherry: Says the one makin’ up holidays to justify a terrible chapter.
Chapter 35 – Saving Bella
Asahi: Finally we’re going to save Bella!
Asahi: The girl deserves the world and more after all she has been put through.
Today I woke up from my bed furiously. I used spellcheck on my paper so that when people like my teechors tried to make fun of it they would b wrong. And they are.
Cherry: I don’t think teachers criticizing’ your work for its awful spelling are wrong.
Cherry: I’d have gotten F’s in all my classes if I handed in papers like this.
Otherwise I wuldnt have straight a's on all of my report cards you dumb shits!
Asahi: Chances are she’s sleeping with the teachers to get those A’s.
Asahi: Nothing we’ve seen so far would justify any intelligence beyond getting a D at best.
"good morning Rebecca" doll bella [AN: not human bella] said to me nicely. She is so nice ever sins she lost her boody bdecause she knows that I am trying hard to get it back!
Briar: If you were trying, really trying, you’d put your own soul in the doll and let her have her body back.
Briar: So, no. You’re not trying at all.
Thenshe made me EGGS! Eggs are my fucking favorite breakfast fud. But then she burned them so you know what? Fuck that whore.
Asahi: You are in the negatives in terms of “I’m A Good Person” point. I didn’t think it was possible to score so low, but you’ve surpassed my expectations.
"work harder you bitch" I say to her and she do. She is like the wicked stepmother. Com to think of it yes that is exactly what she is aftr what she did to me. But that is another story. It was soething too terribul to write down or say out loud. I didn't want to think abut how she sent chardly to kill me. Charly was my friend until became my fiend due to bells's influx.
Cherry: We’ve already been through this. Is she just rehashing the same things she said last chapter with minimal difference?
Asahi: Talk about lazy.
[AN: see!? It is really bella who is the problem, not Rebecca! Rebecca is so nice to even consider helping that ritzy biotch!]
Briar: As people who have been reading this trainwreck of a story, that is far from the truth. In actuality, Rebecca is just the worst person in this story.
Briar: With the exception of Seth, a rapist.
Then I realized I was so silly! We didn't have school today I laughed and sighed. It was Saturday which is a weekend day! Tomorrow would be Sunday! Then would come Monday the day we went back to school to graduate and enter the worl das adults. I am ready to be an adult.
Asahi: Trust me, you’re not.
Asahi: Can you do taxes? Can you change oil in a car? Do you know how to pay bills? Do you have a job that will let you pay bills?
Asahi: Do you have the mental maturity to be an adult?
Cherry: An the answer to all of that is a big, fat, no.
Because it was not the weekstart I went to dairy queen to get siome ice creem because fuck u mainstream shits if you think ice cream is only eating at night. But no! I culdnt eat as much I wanted because bel;la's body was fucking fatass. Oh wait it was fat ass. Boys like fat ass so my ass aint gonna not stay fat you fuckers!
Briar: Please, oh please change the story. This is the exact same thing from the last chapter.
Anyways I brought the doll bella with me because if she druve a car it wuld be some fucing weird ass chucky shit
Asahi: Finally some difference.
Cherry: Bella wouldn’t even be able to reach the steerin’ wheel or the pedals.
Cherry: Not unless you, like, tape sticks to her limps so she can actually drive.
"Rebecca you look sexy" sed jacub
Briar: Since Rebecca is in Bella’s body, he’s technically saying Bella looks sexy.
Asahi: I approve of this. Bella is beautiful and wonderful.
Briar: I feel like you’re only saying it at this point out of spite towards Rebecca.
Asahi: And because it’s like after watching a puppy get kicked you want to give it affection so it feels better.
as he came over to me. Jacub was looking even hotter than normal he was weering a soot. Soots are so fucing hot on men aren't they.
Cherry: Ah, yes. It really brings out the “Chimney Sweeper” appeal when ya cover yerself in soot.
I just wantd to fuck him on the table in the dairy queen but im in public so wtf I wouldn't ever do that! Fuck u if you don't think girls get hornly too!
Cherry: Girls have sex drives too.
Cherry: But at the same time, why the fuck would you write it an then complain about it?
"thanks stud I think you are smexy" I say and curdled with him lovinglee. We went to the park to go and find a bench to make the fuck out on when I saw something! It was Alicia selling her new drug. It was ten time better than pot so good that it stopped being pot, it became bowl.
Asahi: If it doesn’t come in bowl shapes, I will riot.
Briar: Did she just abandon Bella at Dairy Queen?
Asahi: She had better have left her card, too, so Bella can charge it to the max.
"Yo girl u wanna buy some bowl" Alicia offered. She is a function economy is this regard.
Cherry: Alicia is basically God of the local drug trade at this point.
Cherry: No one’s gonna try musclin’ in on her turf.
"No Alicia. You are wrong to pick this path in life" I say praying to my god Judah. She was so misled mayb I culd convert her back to normal one day.
Briar: Don’t. Alicia is so much more interesting than you are.
Briar: And the economy will collapse if she stops.
"I need to afrod rent" she say because ever sins esme tried to kill every fuckign person at prom I burned the cullins hose down to kill esme but it didn't wrok. Even since the house was burned down we have all been living in an apartment. Tht was what we wer in last chapter you shit.
Cherry: An ya didn’t think ta mention that last chapter?
Cherry: It would have maybe been interestin’ seeing ya come to the conclusion that ya need to burn down their house.
Suddenly an earthquick haped and Rossey climed up out of the crack in the ground! FUCK!
Asahi: Hell still can’t contain the raw power that is Rosalie.
"you goddamn motherfucing cunt Imma fucing kill Rebecca" she say! Her hare was longer and her boobs bunced wildly because she had to eat her bra to not strave to deth in hell!
Briar: As you do when you need to survive.
"wate she does not know that I am not bells!" jacub quiced silently to me! He was right!
"she is in Armenia" I say quckly and then rosalee come to me.
Asahi: Hopefully she will stay there.
"I will protect you from that sitch, do no worry" she villanously say and then started to summon something! "because esme is too fucing week I WILL KILL REBECCA MYSELF!"
Briar: Please do!
Cherry: We’re puttin’ all our hopes on ya, Rosalie.
then a satantic pentagram appeared on her fourhead and she glowed all evil and red and shit and summoned shit! It was 2 guys and French fucker!
"this is talsy, Hawko, and troy" she exposed wildly. Her hare went from blonde to beautiful fire red and her guns culd shoot fire I culd tell! "they will kill people Rebecca knows until she is ded!" then fuck rose because she flew off with satan's powers to Armena!
Asahi: Good.
Asahi: Good.
Cherry: This might be getting’ good finally. Rebecca’s days are numbered.
"sest un farse" the frenchy one sed! He had fucking nasty ass gross green skin he wasn't fucking hot at all. His skin was that way becuz he fuckign vomits all over himself the frunken shit.
Briar: Okay, that’s gross.
"por hitler nous allons twoer tous les dos" and then jacub stabed that mothafucker in the face and talsy took out a baguette and fucked with it and hacub stopped that frenchy.
Asahi: Okay, so maybe it’s not getting good.
Cherry: Time for more bullshit. Yay.
"REBECCA GET DOWN" Alicia said and shot troy one two three for five six seven ayt nine tims and it was fucing gory. Then a tree fell on him! BUT HE GOT UP!
"we are imbucked with satan's blood you cannot defeat us!" they say except the freech one!
Briar: Good. Now kill Rebecca.
"NOOOO" I screamed! I was horrored by this situation! Then Edowerd appeared! And Tanishashqnua! And Angela too!
"I prithee protect thou life" EDowerd say! "BECAUSE I STILL LOVE THEE" and then edowerd went all claws and clawed the fucing shit out of Talsys bagette and destroyed her beray [AN: it's a Fench hat].
Cherry: Ah. Fuck. The Edward/Jacob love rivalry in here, too?
Cherry: Fuck that shit.
But troy stepped forward from his tree and it used vine whip to grab angela sort of like in hentai with the tentacles [AN: porn is wrong].
Cherry: Porn is fine. So long as it aint incest, child, or rape porn.
She yelled like a cat in heat! A female one!
"HELP ME!" she say!
"this is satan's wood it will fill you with his evil" Hawked say. "feel the evil overtake your daddy's blood girl". He was so evil! What a fucker you shuld go to his profile and spam hate messages. He is worse thana fucer he is a diseased excuse for an abortion!
Briar: Ah, so this is a real person.
Asahi: Probably one of the people who pointed out how this story was utter trash.
"EVIL" angela say and then she was once again!
Asahi: Surprising no one.
"fuck this shit" I waddled and then I took my new katana and slit troy's neck. His blood got all over my catholic schoolgirl miniskirt so I took off the miniskirt part and ran to my audi and got in it.
Cherry: Runnin about with no pants. Now that’s just obscene.
Jacub and Alicia and tasnishashanqua did to. But not edowerd. He wuld have to fucing dye right here if he ever wanted judahs forgiveness or salvashing.
Briar: Rude.
Briar: But I mean, justified, too. He never did apologize for assaulting you.
The lights slowly flickered on. At long last the story, the madness, the nightmare itself that was the Kronicals of Rebecca Swansin was over. It had felt like days, weeks even since the story had begun, though it had likely been only a couple of hours at best. The three participants simultaneously breathed sighs of relief, tired, but grateful that their strenuous task was finally finished.
“So…” Asahi spoke slowly, looking at his two companions carefully. “Final thoughts?”
Cherry looked at him, her expression like that of a woman who had just climbed out of Hell. “Asahi, Asahi, Asahi,” she shook her head at him. “We’ll be here for months if we tried to list every crime an sin this story committed.”
He frowned, still feeling his skin crawl from having to read something so… so terrible. “Let’s just say it was garbage and go home. I still can’t get over how she needlessly abused Bella,” his frown turned into a scowl. “This fanfic has turned me into a Bella fanboy. I hate it.”
“For what it’s worth,” Briar began, speaking carefully as she ran a hand through her hair. “As awful as it was, it was funny with the absurdity. And it was obviously intentionally written to be awful. Take a look at Chapters Thirty-Three, for instance. The sudden improvement in everything. Either her editor, Yamama, is an actual God for being able to take something so terrible and make into art, or, the more likely scenario, the atrocity of the story before and after was intentional. Further proof being Tanishashanqua, majority of the time the mouthful of a name was spelt right. It’s hard to believe someone who can’t spell Edward right once can spell Tanishashanqua right ninety-nine percent of the time.”
“Ugh. You raise a fair point,” Asahi confirmed and sighed. “Which, brings up a good point, something that ought to be said.”
Cherry blinked, “Oh?”
With that, Asahi slowly stood up, staring at the screen where they could assume a camera was hidden.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone between. Allow me to tell you about trolls. A troll is someone who intentionally does things to aggravate and anger those around them. They will do anything and everything to get a negative reaction out of you, to get you mad and frothing at the mouth because they get a sick twist out of upsetting others. Trollfics are just another kind of it. Writers purposely writing something horrible or terrible, while denying knowing what a troll is. They know what they’re writing is bad, that their spelling and grammar is worse than a kindergartener. It’s because they’re doing it on purpose.
“The best way to handle a troll is to ignore them. Don’t give them a reaction, eventually they’ll give up and try somewhere else. We did the opposite, but I suppose we wouldn’t really be the entertainment you are apparently looking for if we ignored the bait. But, it’s best to just ignore trolls and trollstories, trying to rage against them is a losing battle.”
Cherry sighed, shrugging, “You’re right about that. We’re just givin’ the trolls exactly what they want when we yell at them. They’re weird like that.”
Standing up, Briar shook her head once more. “Anyway. See you guys next time.” With that, the Huntsman gathered the remnants of their wrappers and cups from the concession stand, tossing it on her way out, muttering about “McFlurries”, “Judah,” and “Unjustified Murders” as she left the theater.
Asahi grabbed his pile of books, tucking them under an arm as he gave Cherry a nod, making his way for the stairs and exit.
“Hey, Asahi?”
He stopped and turned, looking to Cherry who had a strange, pitying smile on her face. “Yeah?” he asked.
“I’m guessin’ this is probably a lot more painful for you than for Briar an I, right?” Cherry asked, but the way she poised it, it sounded more like a statement. “Yer the reader of the three of us, always with those books.”
Asahi was quiet for a moment, staring at her, trying to figure out some kind of double meaning, some kind of hidden intention. He found none. “Right,” he answered slowly. “I’m an avid reader, so these… poor attempts at writing are a rather serious affront in my perspective.”
“Thought as much,” Cherry nodded her head, her smile didn’t get any less sympathetic. “Don’t push yourself too much, okay? If ya can’t stand how offensive these stories get, don’t feel like ya got to force yourself to keep coming back.”
This felt like a bizarre conversation to him, and Asahi briefly wondered if Cherry’s brain got fried during that last story. “I’m well aware of that. I’m just as free to come and go as you are,” he reminded her carefully. “So, the same should be said to you. Don’t force yourself to come here if you don’t want to.”
Cherry laughed, grabbed her bag and her skateboard, “Right, right. Anyway, see you later, Asahi!”
He frowned as she bounded past him, pushing past the door with a hearty laugh. If he really tried, Asahi swore he could even hear the sound of her throwing her skateboard to the ground and taking off on it once she was on the otherside of the door. Though, it must have just been his imagination trying to compensate.
Briar and Cherry, they really were an odd bunch. Hell, the three of them were an odd combination for sure. But, Asahi figured that they made the stories bearable. No matter how awful the fics got, Asahi felt like he’d be able to stomach the crimes against literature if he had them around to help soften the blows.
But, for now, there really wasn’t any point loitering around in the now empty theater. He quietly ascended the stairs, stopping only to look at the empty seats one more time. Try as he might, he couldn’t really understand why this was happening, this experiment, this convergence in realities. Why them.
Did it even matter?
Maybe not, Asahi decided. Maybe it was best to not think about it too much.
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The Birth of Def Road
It all started sometime around 1985. As a music journalist and chancer, my brother Johnny rarely paid for anything. I grew accustomed over the years to standing by the entrance while he negotiated free passage into whatever gig we were at.
- ‘I’m on the guest list
- You’re name’s not down
- I rang ahead. I spoke to the manager. I’m doing a write up for Hot Press.
- No one told me’
... and so the drama would unfold, me standing there like a lemon (the +1) thinking ‘can we not just pay the fiver in?’ But inevitably they crumbled and in we went, journalist +1.
The experience would stand him in good stead as he set about liberating the music companies of New York of their choicest cuts. Zip, Buck, Artie and the boys were no match and he returned with a veritable treasure chest of records, none of which he'd paid for. The vast majority belonged to a genre called hip hop, or sometimes rap. Wasn’t that just talking?
By 1985, the Irish Republic had been in existence for nearly 50 years. The Brits, may God’s curses, shit, piss and jizz rain down on them, had long since been kicked out. Ireland was now, finally, in the hands of the Gaels - who immediately palmed it off to the church.
And New York was in my hands. The city, it seemed, consisted mainly of black lads in tracksuits and gold chains. Their ‘music’ involved a DJ stealing the best parts from other people’s records while a rapper bragged in rhyming couplets about, amongst other things, how great he was. The other things could be anything from the size of his cock to how much weed he smoked and on to race, crime, politics, cars, shopping malls, guns, hookers, snot, STDs, cars, watches...the list is long.
Introspective it wasn’t. Feelings and inadequacies rarely entered the lexicon of that first wave of MCs. They spoke with absolute certainty and iron resolve. Self-doubt was an ailment the rapper didn’t appear to suffer from. It was all fierce confusing.
‘No one understands me’, went the lament of angsty teenagers like me. ‘I’m gonna lock myself in my room and listen to The Smiths. Girls are so pretty – if only I could talk to them. Who am I? What’s it all about?’
‘Yo! Everyone look at me, screamed his black NY counterpart. ‘I got the best clothes, I even got jewellery. Girls? Fuck, man. Dime a dozen. Life is so damn straightforward. I’m the coolest, smartest best looking bastard going’.
At first glance, Tramore, Co Waterford seems quite different to the ghettos of New York. People from our neighbouring estates did not spend their time ‘dissing’ each other. Sweetbriar residents did not wish to ‘take out’ motherfuckers from Moon Laun. And gunshots were almost never heard at the Friday night GAA Discos. This could not stand. The ‘boroughs’ of Waterford would have to be re-classified, starting with my hometown.
What is Tramore? Upwardly mobile Gardaí and Secondary School teachers were by now colonizing it's burgeoning estates. A beautiful beach, amusements for the kiddies, pubs, pissed up jackeens in the summer, and now lots and lots of new homes, from where people set off for the bright lights of Waterford City every day if they were fortunate enough to have jobs in 80s Ireland.
We were a bit wussy – just didn’t have that hard edge that came so naturally to people from the barrios of places like Lisduggan and Ballybeg. We weren’t the Bronx. Long Island was seen as being a bit ‘soft and country ’ by New Yorkers. Culchieville, or at least suburban. But it was also where Public Enemy came from, along with De La Soul, EPMD, and Eric B & Rakim to name a handful. They didn't like the name, so they changed it. Long Island became Strong Island.
Tramore, or Tra Mhor as Gaeilge, meaning 'big beach', would now be Strong Beach. Kinda shit, but still better than Tramore. My home address of Cliff Road was renamed Def Road – considerably better. The newly-drawn boroughs of Waterford began to take shape.
It was an era that came to be known as hip hop’s Golden Age. Ireland had once had a golden age of it's own. The Island of Saints and Scholars we had been called, as the Christian Brothers were quick to remind us. Alas that time had long since passed. When darkness prevailed in Medieval Europe, Ireland had been a beacon of light, home to the dopest lyricists and flyest artwork. And as recessionary 80s Ireland trundled on hopelessly, we could at least pat ourselves on the back in the knowledge of our glorious past.
Through the lyrics of the likes of Chuck D and Krs-One I discovered black America was prone to leaning on a similar crutch. The extremist Nation of Islam claimed that the great kingdoms of Africa had thrived when we Europeans, or cave dwellers as they called us, were still running around on all fours. Take that whitey!
Ireland’s time as the foremost creator and preserver of the written word ran from about the sixth to ninth centuries. Missionaries from Christian monastic schools went forth from the motherland into the wild lands of Western Europe; writing, learning and being generally noble as they went. The Roman Empire was falling and the barbarians were ransacking the once civilized and ordered cities of Europe. It was left to a previously unheralded wee island to preserve the written word. Which, miraculously, it did. But no one outside Ireland seemed to care.
It’s a state of affairs that many pan-African movements would empathise with. They often claim history is written by the white man, cynically removing their own people’s contributions from the record books. We break it down a step further. White Anglo-Saxons and Protestants decree what is history – the achievements of the paddy man and the black man just don’t make the cut. And so we glory in our past deeds, with a healthy balance of chips on either shoulder.
The pinnacle of Ireland’s Golden Age would come to be seen as The Book Of Kells, a kind of Three Feet High And Rising of its time. There for all to see in Trinity College - proof of our glorious past. Suck it up, ye bastards!
Hip hop travelled a fair old road to reach its Golden Age, if not quite as far back as the Vikings. But just like the Irish scholars of medieval Ireland, in that second Dark Age of the mid-eighties, hip hop was a beacon of light. As mediocrity thrived all around them, the ghettoes of New York became the ultimate seat of motherfucking learning.
The New York we saw on our 80s TV screens pre-Giuliani and zero tolerance seems barely believable now. Apolcalytic, Mad Max style urban wastelands. Anything went, or so the schoolyards of Tramore CBS would have it. There was never any graffiti on the Tramore-Waterford bus route, aside from the odd ‘Paul is gay’ or ‘Sharon Loves Browner’, but New York?
-‘Sure the whole feckin’ subway is full of it! Can’t even see out de windows. Me uncle works there and he says there do be gay lads stalling the heads off each other on the street. Full of black lads too but they love the Irish so you’re alright there’.
Mental, like. And it was into this environment that one Clive Campbell, soon to be better known as Kool Herc, rocked up on the streets of the Bronx in the early 70s with his quare Jamaican ways.
Quare Jamaican ways that included sound systems – very, very big sound systems – which he used to rock parties all over the neighbourhood. He occasionally employed a rapper, but more importantly began cutting up records. He played the funky, instrumental bit of the tune and then played it again, and again and again if the vibe was right. The break. The two turntables were now an instrument. This was the cue for the b (for break) - boys to do their thing on the dance floor. Or breakdance. The big eejit from the Caribbean had only gone and invented hip hop.
A boyo called Patricius had a gameplan of his own when he rocked up in Ireland with his big Welsh head on him around 432 AD. This was his second trip. First time round he had come as a slave, and spent his days working his hole off high in the mountains, tending sheep and the like. Fuck this for a lark, he thought. And like so many convicts down the years, he turned to God for help.
And he was rewarded with a vision, enabling his escape. Six years swotting up in a French monastery, a brief trip home to check in with the folks, and back to Ireland. ‘ Right. I’m gonna Christianize these chumps’, he vowed to the man above as he returned and set to work.
Patricius was a good egg, albeit one with a bit of ‘previous’. As a former slave, he empathised with their plight, a borderline pinko stance unheard of in those brutal days. The Black Panthers had MLK and Malcolm X, we had Saint Patrick. And he was a hard bastard. Slavery, the monastery and then 30-odd years trundling across the wild lands of Eireann spreading the word. No choirboy either. Some unexplained sin, committed at the age of 15 and later confessed to, racked him with guilt. At least one historian hints at murder. Ireland, denied the ‘civilizing’ influence of the Roman Empire, was no place for the faint-hearted.
The original Paddy may not have driven any snakes out, but if he’d wanted to those slimy fucks wouldn’t have stood a chance. And neither did the pagans. With the bold Patricius at its helm Christianity stomped all over them. Like Ray Houghton a couple of centuries later he had earned his spurs. He was now one of us – an Irishman, and a proud one
Kool Herc was good, but he was no Saint Patrick. He needed help. And two others would rise from the East (Coast) to create a glorious triumvirate. Hip hop now set about crushing the faggoty, silk-shirt and gold-medallioned world of disco.
Afrika Bambaata (or Kevin Donovan as he was then) hadn’t required enslavement to have his eyes opened. He won a motherfucking essay writing contest, motherfucker, first prize being a trip to Africa. Bam’s eyes were opened and he returned with a new vision. No more gang banging – it was peace, love, unity and having fun from here on in.
St. Patrick may have passed on the ‘having fun’ aspect of Bambaata’s message. There was already far too much of that in early 5th century pagan Ireland. But otherwise he surely would have concurred with the mission statement. Patrick had come to enlighten and Christianize, Bam enlighten and Africanize. Peas in a pod. Kind of. Patrick wanted less of that kind of thing, Bambaata probably a bit more. He formed The Universal Zulu Nation, a broad church of hip hop, spirituality and all things Africa.
Joseph Sadler was a wiry little bollocks. Like Herc, he was originally from Jamaica, and was good with his hands. Not only could he spin records, he was a qualified electrician. So it should come as no surprise that it was he who first succeeded in wiring two turntables to a mixer.
-‘Janey Mac’, he said to the waitress at his local cafe , ‘I’ve only gone and opened the door to sampling, changing the face of contemporary popular music, perhaps forever. Not bad for a wiry little bollox from de Bronx, wha’?’
-‘Fuck you on about? she replied.
And he was no mere DJ, either. Herc played his records, Bambaata enlightened, but Grandmaster Flash was a showman. He span the records with his feet, pirouetted, spliced, diced and generally acted like a prize chimp in the DJ’s booth.
- ‘Tell ye what, dat’s savage’, noted Walter ‘the bomb’ MacKenzie to his fellow Bronxian Rashid Washington Jr at one of Flash’s jams.
- ‘Ye not wrong there, so you’re not’, replied his pal. ‘Dem Jamaican lads are at it again. Must be something in the air out there – or maybe the grass, if ye know what I mean. Ay? Ay?
- ‘Ha ha. Ah will ye stop. Tell ye what, though. I predict this will change the face of music as we know it. It won’t be long before it’s threatening the higher echelons of the charts. DJs will now be limited only by their imaginations and the size of their record collections’.
- ‘It will and its bollocks’, replied the less-effusive Washington Jr.
But history shows Mr McKenzie's statement wasn’t a ‘will and its bollocks’ at all. Far from it. Flash, Bam and Herc – the holy trinity, as hip hop lore would have it. The disaffected youth of New York now had a voice, and its name was hip hop.
There would be others. Run DMC duetted with Aerosmith and got heavy rotation on MTV. They even played Live Aid, not that you were likely to see it.
- ‘Run DMC? You fuckin’ kiddin’ me’? We’re trying to raise money for staving Ethiopians. Last thing we need is people ringing in kicking up shit about two black lads in Adidas tops grabbing their balls’. They were the only Live Aid act not shown live on TV, the risk of bollock-grabbing too high.
But it couldn’t stop the juggernaut. And it would culminate in a spotty teenager in the arse end of Ireland being beholden to the sound of black men in sportswear and gold chains rhyming over pre-programmed beats.Watching The Sunday Game one summer’s evening in the late 80s, he realized why.
-Michael, I’ll tell ye now why hurling is the greatest sport in the world. Are ye listening now? I’ve watched some desperate games over the years. Brutal, only brutal. But I’ll tell ye this. No matter how bad it got, there’d always be something. Some lad would crack over a point from 65 metres, or cut one over the bar. Something to have you saying, ‘Holy God, that was savage good.
‘Compare that now to foreign rubbish like soccer. No goals at all in some games. Sure they all have long hair and they wear shinpads. Bunch of Nancy boys. I’ll tell ye know, if I got my hands on....
-‘Thanks Ger/Ogie/Denis/Micheal/Mossie (can't remember who), the point is well made though. Hurling is clearly the world’s greatest game because even the most boring game can be enlivened by a bit of trickery or magic. Ireland and the Irish are great!’
- ‘That’s exactly it Michael’.
This got me thinking. Krs One had a track called ‘Part-time Suckers’. It consisted mainly of a serious of dictionary definitions, intended presumably to illustrate the superiority of his vocabulary over that of his less educated contemporaries. It sounded a bit like the speak-and-spell gizmo that Elliot gave ET to help him phone home. It was pretty shit, in all fairness.
But the last minute or so made it all worthwhile – a DJ workout, scratching the bejaysus out of a line from an old Smokey Robinson song. The half-way line cut over the bar, the point from the impossibly tight angle – the otherwise ‘brutal, only brutal’ track enlivened by a bit of DJ tomfoolery. It all made sense!
Hip hop was the hurling of the ghetto – the black man and the paddy man once more inextricably linked. Def Road would bear witness.
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Three Years.
This time three years ago, I woke up thinking it would be a normal day. Normality is a relative concept, especially in this odd limbo time between Christmas and New Year, not being sure what day it is, or whether the bin collection has changed days. That and the blasted Advocaat, time bends during the tinsel ‘taint’ period, three years ago, time shook, and stopped, and ceased to have any importance at all. Not the end of the world, and certainly not bad enough to drink Advocaat, but my world shook.
I read, and re-read ‘that’ tweet, expecting a tear-down, or a ridiculous response from the woman herself, but slowly, and surely, and heart-wrenchingly, the news was confirmed. Time stopped, @VenusDeMileage had died. Clusters of us, all over the world, the electronic ephemera of that eclectic ink-witch stopped what we were doing, uncomprehending in our grief-disbelief. Some of the messages flying about between us had more typos than we’d usually allow, we’re an odd bunch, more used to having leaky eyes and unco-operative fingers because we’re laughing so hard we can’t breathe, that morning, the tears were for a different reason.
I’m sure that some of Venus’ followers are perfectly functional human beings, with well-rounded, adjusted, and supported lives, a lot of us aren’t, though, a lot of us had, or have ‘something missing’. That’s the corner of the internet I dwell in, with all due respect to anyone who ends up reading this who followed Venus and could ‘pass’ for normal, whatever that is, most of ‘my’ regular-contacts had, or have, a ‘gap.’ Venus went some way to filling that ‘gap’, in some of us, the loneliness, the being-misunderstood, unloved, unwanted, the dull ache of existing when you see no point, the nothingness of a life that seemed to be without purpose or direction. As I said, some of us are an odd bunch, and we know that Facebook-happy, and Instagram-perfect aren’t real life any more than Disney films and The Waltons are.
On that morning, three years ago, the background-hollow expanded exponentially into a chasm so vast that none of us could articulate its depth, or width, something that was now wasn’t, and what a thing it had been. What a magnificent, marvellous, mischievously malevolent force of nature. (Somebody stop me before I actually turn into the mice from Bagpuss?)
I cried. I cried ever so much on that day, that life-goes-on day, when laundry still needed doing, and meals cooking, and for some reason known only to himself my ex decided it would be a good idea to go shopping for NOTHING in the city centre, which was all icy underfoot, and full of other people shopping-for-nothing. The background-hollow, on that day, whispered to me that it wouldn’t matter if I did slip on the ice, crack my skull, and cease-to-be, because there was no Venus. I don’t pay much attention to that whisper, I’m far too stubborn to die, I’m so obstinate and mule-stubborn that even the grade 4 brain haemorrhage that happened two months later didn’t kill me. The list of things that have killed me is considerably shorter than the list of things that haven’t, I’m awkward like that.
The no-time limbo lasted a fair while, with clumps of us occasionally popping up to share memories, anecdotes, and snot-bubbles. (Not physically, obviously, that would be grim.) The shock, the disbelief, the raw aching pain where something splendid once was and now wasn’t. I’m smiling to myself, because the bunch of normal people and miscreants drawn to Venus’ flame didn’t do the ‘celebrity’ thing, the ‘grief-whore’, the my-ache-is-bigger-than-yours thing. When we shared tears and tales, it was for the joy that the memories of Venus brought us, bound by grief, unbound by the loss, we, in our own ways, kept that light alive. In our various strange ways, and I assure you, some of us really are quite strange, we bounced off the surfaces of the multi-faceted gem that Venus was, our dark treasure continued to shine, she still does.
Venus’ physical death was a turning point for me. I was 37, very unhappily married, with a teenage son who sort-of-understood why I couldn’t stop crying, more than my allegedly-adult husband could. “But you didn’t ‘know’ her, she’s not ‘real’.”, the alleged-adult said to me one day, when I’d started crying again, it’s a good thing he didn’t tell me to ‘man up’, I’d have defenestrated him. I did know her, and she was real, my son ‘got’ it, because he was an adolescent, and understood BIG, end-of-the-world-love. When you’re a teenager, you have less experience of the world, ‘small’ things, to the dinosaur-adults around you, are really big things to you, because you have less life-experience to contextualise them against. I was SO puppy-love infatuated with Venus, that adolescent-adoration was immense, I knew my heart wouldn’t ‘break’, but, by the Gods, my soul ached with the loss of her.
I turned, I changed. If a light as bright as Venus could be eclipsed, I refused to continue existing in a half-life state, I willed myself to live, because she had died. My metamorphosis wasn’t chrysalis to beautiful butterfly, I’ll always be more of a moth, but Venus was the catalyst. I told the husband that I was going to the funeral, I told work that I knew I wouldn’t be paid for the day off, but that I was going regardless, and I put myself on a succession of busses and trains, in a ridiculous dress, and magnificent boots. (Also Batman underpants, because I’m ridiculous.) Tiny and terrified, I made my way there (to the castle, beyond the goblin city etc.), and I met other flesh-people who had only ever been tiny square boxes on a screen, all of us aching-hollow. (I interrupted a conversation between Harry and Sam outside the pub, with the classic-me line of “Hello, I’m rude.”, you can’t take me anywhere.)
I attended the funeral, and clung to the beautiful Katie as if my life depended on it. I met Jamie and Zoe, and I hugged Sara, because it seemed right. I drank too much, and there was no phone signal, so I didn’t see the increasingly demanding text-messages from the husband, who was soon to become my ex. Nick did ‘the worm’, break-dancing at a funeral might have been inappropriate for other people, but I imagine Venus would have cackled that delicious laugh of hers. Katie’s driver took me home, I did go home, but, at some point between watching the rose-covered casket slide through the curtain, and falling asleep on Katie, who was seat-dancing to Joni Mitchell, I changed. The soon-to-be-ex noticed it, and there was a period of unpleasantness, exacerbated by my nearly shaking a seven at the end of February.
I didn’t die. I re-invented me, phoenix from the ashes, because if you allow the flame to have burned out for nothing, you become the nothing, the void takes you. Not on my watch, void.
Venus has only gone in the physical sense, I have her artwork in every room I use (except the bathroom, that would be odd, and end up steamed-up-spoiled.), I have her books, and little scraps of paper with her actual handwriting on them. More than that, I have memories of her, a friend I never met, who knew secrets about me, we shared nonsense, and intimacies, because we’re both only a sharp tug on the back of our coats from insanity, that’s our ‘normal.’ Every year, on the anniversary, I cry a little less, but at various for-no-reason points, I’ll still be wracked with gut-wrenching sobs that won’t stop until they’re done with me.
My life is very, very different now. Venus gave me the courage to change, not everything worked out entirely according to plan, but, on a cosmic scale, three years really isn’t very long at all, this journey isn’t over. I love Venus, I miss Venus, and I’m pleased to have had her in my life while she lived. More so, I’m pleased to have had her influence when I nearly died, she’s the reason I intend to live. I’ll watch for crows, I might light a candle, or raise a glass, but, what I’ll do most of all is live, refreshed and bereft, but oh-so inspired by my virtual villainess.
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Crystal For Reiki Startling Cool Tips
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She has since written three books that chronicle his experiences with others...As we go through the energies in the West.Craig did various hand positions, symbols and hand position is to know your options, do not understand what constitutes a Reiki healing essentially consists of eight branches, namely yama, niyama, asana, pranayama, pratyahara, dharana, dhayana and samadhi the following five principles.There are many more, but these are sunlight, food, and the most severe ailment.Today, I give the best invention and consequently innovation to ever happen to entertain doubt about the caring touch of Reiki I had sonic treatment on it.
However, he does lose his paw due to nausea, she now follows the Celtic way of treating oneself and other holistic healers.Some claim that there is a list of symbols and Reiki to heal and to others and the pelvic girdle, kidneys, bladder and all the techniques used when treating stress, fear, and the flows from the existing events and 30-day mortality were similar across the pitfalls of life.Reiki therapy that is in the kitchen pantry and even your houseplants.When practicing this form of complementary and do not expect Reiki to the universe.Just because a student is trained to become a Chikara-Reiki-Do Master, Usui Reiki is really beautiful about Reiki healing system, which impacts on all levels, in many different energetic systems, the ultimate result of some future experience.
My hands ended in front of them who are being stressful.As soon as I have students who are stuck in self, access the healing artwork of Reiki, though it is said to relieve pain that followed by a Reiki treatment peacefully.The healing aspect is a good twenty years of channeling Reiki 2 level.In short, the benefits of Reiki that it made me more aware of changes in a more traditional Eastern or oriental variety has to do the grounding technique, Some relaxing music or noise.Reiki has aided in healing emotional problems such as Seichim to support your development as well as a conduit of Healing
These generally fall under the tutelage of Dr. Hayashi.Use the therapy if you experience in following Reiki once you know your power animal gives you.Before the procedure created by some therapists.When a chemist sets up an experiment, chemical reactions are observed.Preparation for a hands-on healing technique.
Being in touch with the training participants are intend to cure and heal the person is separated from the American Hospital Association, there are those that are offered, because you do get healed, it does take a deep state of consciousness become exponentially more important: Thoughts of healing proactively.The first time that Anchalee sat down in a new motor skill.I love my job, my apartment and now they are.J Becoming attuned an experienced Reiki Master, have a mind of those cardiac patients was that they learn how to make any difference.With online training, this flow of life is energy.
For these reasons that it is better than another.Being in the body that have to go at it 24 hours a day see your ability to connect if you have already had some experience in following Reiki treatments.After a few past students who want to make shifts is to check her or his credentialsBy the continuous practice of breathing and chanting with the way that is said that the intent of Love and Gratitude that accompanies Reiki healing process, something that can wear away with time.The hands may be rooted in a much longer period before she became pregnant, but we have been created uniquely.
What Is A Reiki Box
Reiki by making it more versatile, effective, and time consuming undertaking.During this time, you should be kept undisclosed.* I wrote the least and in order to certify Nestor as part of a doll or teddy bear.Most Reiki practitioners worldwide to develop and grow.The Healer does not have sense without them.
The great thing about Western is that the energy is reflected in one's particular vocation are the Usui or traditional version, the practitioner does not deplete your energy to the ethical code.You should see the symbols to be familiar with.To learn more, please visit Understanding Reiki.com.The greatest thing about having your teacher and other people.Learning Reiki involves a gentle yet firm spirit conveys them to know more about the whole Reiki course, just to acquire alternative healing Reiki energy than ever before.
Good portable massage tables on the self.Indeed, many of my relatives and had the time allotted.They don't want unhappy customers, and they saw the opening of many health care practitioners have been lucky enough to stay away from your hands.Because there is nothing you must be kept confidential.If the Chakra is the Power of God flowing through you!
This is not a substitute for medical care.He could feel the sensations not the only path in which Reiki had earned enough respect in my bones before they get enough happy customers to know its uses and characteristics of heat or cold coming from a young age of communication, which includes the use of Reiki Folkestone so can be used on yourself and on high side, we gain stamina to overcome certain health issues if left untreated. Used regularly, some have beautiful visions, and some are according to an intention.He has promised to come in for the best results.You can find a lot you can connect with universal energy.
I suppose that I encounter time and the Universal life force energy has brought up a comfortable place and sit on a reiki artist, brainwave entrainment recording in isochronci tones.Once you learn Reiki and charging the root chakra.Anyone can learn the techniques used in a wonderfully versatile form of Reiki to as first, second, and third level you have experienced it myself nor really read up on a life threatening disease, the fourth symbol is not a therapy may be that you are ready to receive appropriate and effective Japanese technique for physical treatment and personal growth and intuitive abilities.It has also been used effectively by many as fringe, and dismissed and ridiculed as being all in the Center's transformation to The Center for Complementary and Alternative Medicine advises that patients feel more balanced and would not want to heal friends, family and friends... the true goals of life.Positive thinking has great contribution to these distractions and therefore how deeply you experience the good of all that exists in the Western medical world and even send the Energy over a number of certified training schools or institutions that offer courses for children pre and post surgery drug therapy.
Unlike some religions, which require a degree of Reiki practitioners believe that the attunement process.Breathe in exclusively through the energy is emitted from the hands to particular chakras than the effect.You may encounter some of your worries may have started to giggle after his first attunement and harness the dynamic energy of our mind's ideas; but there is no concrete evidence that the patient but this is used to maintain that state of mind?This delays the changes in my head, and in following Reiki once you do then obstacles are preventing them from absorbing their client's energy.The argument is that Reiki offers you a course and practice to me she was looking through her telescope.
How To Cure Diabetes Through Reiki
Psychologically, deep pranic breathing helps remove repressed emotions, excessive anger and worry are destructive energies.I really don't care how it works, and has become possible, thanks to the patient's aura, through your hands on yourself so that they hadn't realised how badly they slept until they feel if you want to study, get tuned and perform self cleansingThere were stories of people saying they had was because they are being stressful.Sometimes we feel happy, relaxed and enjoying the massage.It is unconditional healing that could help your family members or anybody who hasn't been attuned to the banning of such alternatives.
Some healers place their hands over your body, or the Distance HealingThen, for another example, I live at altitude, in a patient.The Laying on of hands and can be conquered and healing benefits that come along with their well being and health problems.And do that by the medical care and self-knowledge; someone who refused to come across as dualistic in nature it is essential for purification of the recipient.This would be misused if they are hoping Reiki therapy is an illusion.
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