#i imagine this would be her dress for WEDDING ATTEMPT NUMBER 2 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unironicduncanstan · 3 years

Photo

@alenoah and @icedancerhell did this and ik im definitely going to be cancelled for my taste but explanations below

prince of egypt: oh my gfucking god . bro the music. the ANIMATION. the story too like obviously its based on a religious tale but i mean the way its portrayed and interpreted and how it all comes across was so on point. and did i mention THE FUCKGIN MUSIC dude i would try to sing every song when i was a kid and i think attempting that literally improved my range growing up

shrek: ok when ur a kid literally all u want is to feel mature and cool. shrek was that in an hour and 30 minutes. all the adult humor. and even the shit that would fly over your head somehow still always registered as so funny. every line is burned into my brain bc i watched it so much it was so fuckgin funny and entertaining and the storyline was so depthful and important. shrek for president

sinbad: oh yeah he makes me wanna sin. Bad

rise of the guardians: oooohhg the plot was so cool and intriguing,,, the designs were so unique,,,, also i actually used to. cosplay jack frost when i was a teen osfkjskjfhksdjf i might have like One picture around here somewhere,

over the hedge: every character is perfectly designed and perfectly voiced and the humor was so good. me at like 8 years old watching hammy the squirrel drink coffee and frolic around in a slowed down world was the peak of comedy

madagascar: its just such a classic. another movie where every line is burned into my cerebellum bc i had it on dvd. id say out of this whole list this close to number one. idk where to even begin with how stupidly hilarious it was to me

httyd: lbr who didnt just do a full [lisa simpson face] when you got to the end and hiccup had lost part of a leg. the whole movie had this aura that it was like not tethered down somehow while still being great family friendly media. also im ace sexual and UHH big dragon

antz: unironically i think it deserves so much more than it gets. the anti war messages are great the designs are cool and it goes back into the shrek maturity territory where they get to say CUSS WORDS. p much my only qualm is that woody allen had to be there 😔😔😔

shark tale: ok dont cancel me but i really love the plot actually. i mostly love the mafia shark boy that dresses as a dolphin but even the will smith fish crash-and-burn fame hubris thing while annoying at times was rly intriguing. and the designs are the kind of thing that as a kid i loved but as an adult i do. struggle , w ith, a bit, but overall funny and entertaining story

el dorado: the music slaps so fuckgin hard thats another example of me tryna sing cartoon music to an embarrassing degree. also the Colorse . the designs . and the humor osjfsjdf the only downside is just a personal vibe bc the best friend conflict storylines make me anxious sometimes lol

flushed away: oh my god dont at me. some of the characters are so fuckgin annoying and some of the humor is just so much but i rly did like the worldbuilding and storyline. stupid posh ass rat was rly cool actually. also yet another mafia/gang violence plot in childrens media why is that so funny when ur a kid god

spirit: GREAT MUSIC GREAT STORY! i think the way the story goes like, its Better to be told with regular horses and narration rather than talking horses,,,, but my dumb whimsical child ass just didnt latch onto that style as much as the talking animal movies

shrek 2: rly good tbh all the new characters introduced are interesting and entertaining to watch, but i mostly remember it for i need a hero and human shrek. didnt rly hit the same mark as the first :/

httyd 2: another great movie with another great twist but it almost felt like too much at once for my little brain to handle. overloaded me with gay emotion

megamind: i love everything it stands for i just never saw it until like a year ago so its not that dear to my heart

kung fu panda: not my style of humor, i saw it once and can hardly remember it but i feel like the plot was wholesome and cute

the croods: so funny and good, ive seen it many times actually. but some of the humor just isnt my thing (its, well, crude, which also took me like 5 yrs to get that joke,)

bee movie: was pleasantly surprised the first time i watched it??? it was pretty good and it did kinda make fun of itself so idk why its so cringe to ppl. barry b benson entertained me unironically

chicken run: i saw it once when i was very young and it just didnt resonate with me also claymation most of my childhood terrified me

wallace and gromit: same as chicken run

entire never saw it tier: dotn hate me i just dont have a lot of time on my hands. i know i will be oppressed into watching peabody and sherman within the week and i accept the charges

monsters vs. aliens: someone got it for me on dvd and i hated it so much. its not even that bad its just a me thing like for some reason the part where the lady becomes a giant during her wedding or w/e was just like. the worst nightmare i could imagine i hated it and it made me scared to get married bc i thought that could happen to me. also none of the main cast is charming to me one of thems a bug and i have a bug phobia so i could never rly get thru it im sorry but i coudltn do it

madagascar 2: alex backstory was kinda good but the rest was forgettable for me

madagascar 3: visually kinda cool but. :/// felt really off compared to the previous movies, like an obvious cash grab. i mean who could forget the constant polka dot afro circus song advertisements

shrek 3: again mostly just remember it for the frog dad dying ,,,

shrek 4: i only saw it like 5 months ago for the first time. fiona being a warrior in an alternate timeline or w/e (if that was real and not a fever dream) was the only semi tolerable part for me

penguins of madagascar: the first few minutes with them as babies was cute the rest i physically could not keep my attention on. i dont remember anything else im sorry

#long post/ /#very long #original

29 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

From Bridgerton to Hamilton: A History of Color-Conscious Casting in Period Drama

https://ift.tt/2IQI6Ak

Note: This Bridgerton article contains no book or series plot spoilers.

Bridgerton is a unique mix of Shonda Rhimes’ dedication to Black representation on American television and the British period drama tradition. White critics may dismiss this trend as unnecessary “pandering” to Black and POC viewers, but the number of productions designed around reforming all white-casting has increased over the past 10 years—and has only added to the success of the genre. The number one reason driving demand for diverse period dramas is from Black and POC fans of the genre. The impact of seeing an actor that looks like you can’t be measured in ratings or clicks online. Despite facing years of content and fandom overtly or covertly claiming that the universal themes in period dramas are not “for us”; the tide is starting to turn as fans use social media and the power of ratings to ask for more representation.

A quick overview of recent Regency England-set productions leaves much to be desired. Although the 2018 Amazon Prime/ITV miniseries and the 2005 movie adaptations of Vanity Fair left in West Indian and Jewish heiress Miss Schwarz, she is one of many supporting characters. PBS/ITV’s Sanditon, on the one hand, improved representation by prominently featuring Georgiana Lambe. However, her story was a huge disappointment to Black and POC fans who expected her plotline to end happily or at least have her conflicts resolved.

There have been three paths traditionally towards increasing diversity in period dramas: 1) blind casting (also called racebending), where Black and POC actors play traditionally white characters adding original Black characters to existing fictional works, and 2) Own Voices, where Black and POC writers share their own stories. These two are not mutually exclusive, but, in the world of British period drama, the former is more frequently used, as the bedrock of the genre is adapting existing novels and plays by white authors.

The theoretical framework for inclusive casting begins in the world of staging period drama at the theater. In Shakespeare’s day, men played women’s roles as women were not allowed to appear on stage. The genre evolved in later centuries to allow women to appear on stage, but the tradition of having actors who didn’t match the original descriptions remained. This is even true of his history plays where real women royalty were characters. Ira Aldridge in the 1840s was the first Black actor in Britain to play traditionally white roles on stage. Later on, in the 19th century, several stage adaptations of Jane Austen’s works had all-women casts.

Fast forward to 2015, when Lin-Manuel Miranda in Hamilton redefined what it meant to cast inclusively in modern period dramas by using actors descended from slavery and colonialism to play the Founding Fathers. Every aspect of the musical was designed to reframe the existing narrative of early American history. The costume design also reflected the identities of the actor by featuring braids, locs, and textured hairstyles over 18th century white hairstyles. Rap lyrics conveyed to the audience the names, dates, and other descriptions of the Revolutionary War. The old adage that someone must “look the part” to play a biographical role was thrown out the window.

Hamilton proved that many of the old excuses used to sideline diverse period dramas no longer held to be true. Millions of white people listened to the cast album, brought tickets, or streamed the movie on Disney+. UK theater patrons flocked to the West End cast of Hamilton, as well, before the pandemic. Memes, parodies, and more on social media proved that white audiences can conceptualize historical figures as fictional characters while also knowing the real figures looked and acted quite differently. Fans of the show pushed Ron Chernow’s biography back onto the bestseller lists as they wanted to read what really happened.

The first clear impact the show had on the genre of British period drama comes from a mystery. Daisy Coulam, Grantchester’s head screenwriter, cited reading an interview with Miranda as the inspiration behind the exit plotline for James Norton’s character Sidney Chambers. UK crime dramas For those unfamiliar with the series, Grantchester is a mystery procedural based on a series of books about a 1950s crime-solving Anglican vicar by James Runcie. Norton’s exit plotline in Season 4 generated an original to the show character named Violet who was the daughter of a visiting African-American preacher. Violet was an original character who forced the audience to consider that the US civil rights movement indeed reached their treasured vision of the lily-white British countryside. Coulam already laid the groundwork for Violet in earlier seasons by abandoning large sections of the original novel timeline and but keeping the case of the week focused on addressing 1950’s social issues. Fans heavily criticized Coulam’s writing for style and pacing, but her imagination clearly indicates that Hamilton’s proven formula for disrupting established historical aesthetics can just as easily be applied to fictional depictions of the UK’s past as blind casting a biography-based series or depicting real figures of Black British history.

Other period dramas released in recent years share traces of Hamilton’s impact but in a more thematic and less direct different way. Some shows turned real Black British figures into fictional characters. Lina (Stephanie Levi-John) and Oviedo (Aaron Cobham) on The Spanish Princess are composites of Catherine of Aragon’s servants and several famous Black Tudors. Catherine “Kitty” Despard (Kerri McClean) in Poldark Season 5 was a forgotten Black British figure added in to expand the world outlined in the novels. Victoria featured Ira Aldridge (Ashley Zhangazha) mentioned earlier, plus spotlighted the Queen’s adopted daughter Sarah-Forbes Bonetta and Cuffay (C.J. Beckford) as the leader of the proto-socialist Chartists. Lucille Anderson (Leonie Elliott) on Call the Midwife was not mentioned in the original memoirs, but she was added to represent the Caribbean nurses from the Windrush Generation of UK immigrants.

Racebent casting also increased. Dev Patel’s role as the title character in the movie The Personal History of David Copperfield proved that Dickens adaptations could indeed include POC casts without changing the fundamental plot and message. PBS/BBC’s Les Miserables miniseries also extended the Broadway tradition of casting Black actors in traditionally white coded classic literature characters. Hulu’s The Great featured Sacha Dhawan and several Black actors as Russian nobility, politicians, and courtiers.

All of these series, however, carefully attempted to stay grounded in recreating the original source material or invested in faithfully replicating the era they were set in. Bridgerton radically expands upon Hamilton’s formula by divorcing inclusive casting from any desire to accurately recreate historical events, eras, or figures. Romance, fantasy, and social/familial drama are universal themes that don’t depend on having a white-dominant vision of society. Quinn’s original novel series sparingly referred to historical events during the Regency Era. Her focus was on creating a world where the most important events were balls and weddings. More Dukes and other holders of inherited titles exist in her vision of the Ton (the most elite members of Regency society) than in reality. Historians would likely dispute her characterization of the elite social season as well. Characters’ internal dialogue is in modern English peppered with regional accents and slang. They rarely lampshade or criticize the way of society beyond their romantic desires and family obligations. Readers see the physical intimacy on the page Austen never mentioned. This literary environment is ripe for inclusive casting on screen.

The most critical flip in characterization is Simon, Duke of Hastings (Regé-Jean Page). His character is the romantic hero of the first book in the series The Duke and I and is the character that set fan expectations high for future novels. Simon having visibly African features and yet being an object of desire is incredibly subversive in a genre where white beauty standards dominate hetero and homosexual fiction.

Lady Danbury (Adjoa Andoh), Simon’s godmother, is an elder stateswoman and a twist on the battle-ax aunt trope popular in period dramas. She isn’t as caustic and insulting as some other famous widows and spinsters but she commands authority and a mansion filled with people to perform all the hard labor. Lady Danbury is even implied to be slightly higher in status than her white counterparts with children of marrying age Lady Violet Bridgerton (Ruth Gemmell) and Lady Portia Featherington (Polly Walker).

Queen Charlotte (Golda Rosheuve) being played by a biracial woman is actually a subtle Easter Egg to existing history debates. Many have debated if her portraits were airbrushed to disguise African features. A few years ago, a documentary established her African ancestry is via the Portuguese royals. All of her scenes involve petting her Pomeranian, demanding to know the latest gossip, and manipulating the gentry into doing her bidding.

The miniseries doesn’t end the racial diversity with those at the highest social rank or even at the lower orders of domestic servants. Marina Thompson (Ruby Barker) is a cousin of the Featheringtons and represents the “poor relation” character popular in stories based on the British gentry. A Black modiste (dressmaker) trained in French fashion makes all of the dresses the characters wear. Will Mondrich (Martins Imhangbe) is a boxer, likely a reference to former slave turned bare-knuckle boxer Bill Richmond. Alongside the characters with plot lines viewers follow, there is a conscious effort to hire Black and POC extras to fill in crowd scenes at balls, park scenes, and other public events. The viewer sees people who look like themselves in every class level of society and can feel like they too can become part of their world.

How Bridgerton Can Avoid Outlander’s Mistakes

By Amanda-Rae Prescott

Books

Bridgerton: Cast Announced for Shonda Rhimes Netflix Series

By Alec Bojalad

Attire is a critical part of upholding the fantasy and cultural diversity Bridgerton and also in communicating to the audience the series isn’t your aunt’s neutral tone Austen adaptation. Marina and Lady Danbury would never be caught dead in a plain white muslin frock. All of the popular Regency hairstyles for women have been modified and reworked for natural textured hair, braids, and locs. Some of the Black male extras even have modern African hairstyles left in tact. The only Black characters who wear the traditional white wigs are older men or servants in full formal uniform. Queen Charlotte’s Black courtiers and servants wear a mixture of extravagant 1770s and 1780s attire and Regency court wear to create a physical separation between them and the rest of the ensemble cast. These style decisions are right out of the playbook of Still Star-Crossed, Shondaland’s first foray into period drama. Although that series took place in 1300’s Italy, the priority was on blending fantasy and Black fashion aesthetics over catering to white costume enthusiasts and reenactors.

In the world of Bridgerton, slavery and colonialism are directly or indirectly referenced exceedingly sparingly. One reference is to Lord Dunmore’s army of emancipated and runaway slaves during the Revolutionary War proclamation. (Hercules Mulligan’s Black troops referenced in “Stay Alive” is the Patriot equivalent of Dunmore’s forces). These sparing hints make it clear to the viewers that class, family, and personal family drama is the root cause of joy and pain in this series.

Since Bridgerton is completely ignoring the physical descriptions of the characters in many cases, the set design carries the bulk of the attention to historical detail. The series hired Dr. Hannah Greig as a historical advisor to ensure these details were as close to 1813 as possible. Greig has previously acted as a consultant to the Sanditon, Poldark, and The Duchess cast and crew is likely where the Easter Eggs in character references come from. Lavish mansions and castles and the more humble spaces ground the fantastical plot details in historical reality. Several previous period dramas have recreated the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, but these scenes in the miniseries are elevated to the next level thanks to Netflix’s budget.

Noughts + Crosses: Why You Should Watch This Afrofuturist Alternate History Romance

By Amanda-Rae Prescott

World on Fire Returns People of Color to the Dunkirk Narrative

By Amanda-Rae Prescott

The success of Bridgerton applying color-conscious casting to a fantasy/romance series has implications far beyond potential future seasons. Studios especially those in the UK have been hesitant to utilize recent historical romance books for screen adaptations. Modern historical fiction by Black and POC authors (called Own Voices fiction) which is crucial in the fight for increased representation. Novelists such as Beverly Jenkins, Courtney Milan, and Alyssa Cole have written romances set in the Regency and other eras of American and British History that can easily be transformed into movies and miniseries. Some of these novels recreate existing history while others lean into escapist fantasy. The ultimate goal in period drama representation is for Black and POC creatives to tell their own stories covering all the ranges of emotion, not just historical trauma.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Critics can keep attacking period dramas for being “too woke” (a term that was stolen from anti-racism activists) for remembering that white people aren’t the only inhabitants of the British Isles and America, but series like Bridgerton are here to stay. Black and POC viewers and readers of period drama and romance fiction always existed, and viewership will only grow if more inclusive period romance projects are greenlit in the future.

The post From Bridgerton to Hamilton: A History of Color-Conscious Casting in Period Drama appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3mjLv8v

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

10 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #360

“we are the ones that wanna play / always wanna go, but you never wanna stay”

"Crawling" or "In The End?" I want to say "Crawling," but I really can't be sure. Both are bomb. Is your window open? No. Monsters Inc. or Shrek? Shrek, my man. What did you last hear that made your jaw drop? Jason's mom died. What is the longest shower or bath you have ever taken? I remember as kids, Nicole and I would sometimes play 'til Mom made us finish because the water was cold by then. As an adult, idk about my longest shower. Do you have a preference of chocolate? Yeah, milk chocolate. Is there anyone you’d like to hug right now? Yeah. Could you ever picture someone writing a biography about you? Definitely not. Do you have a clock in your room? No. Do you shut off the computer when you’re done using it? No, I just close it. Do you usually catch a cold during the winter? No. I just about never get sick. Are you a good multi-tasker? NOOOOOOOOOOO. Do you know any deaf people? If so, is it easy or difficult to have conversations with them? No. Is there a door knocker on your front door? No. Were you ever into Pokémon? Bitch I still am. Do you drink a lot of water? Sigh, no. I'm definitely better than I used to be, though; once upon a time, I literally never drank it unless I was extremely hot and dehydrated. Nowadays, it's usually after I finish my soda for the day that I then only drink water, normally around one full tall cup of it. Do you like fireworks? They're beautiful, but I'm personally against them out of respect for veterans suffering from PTSD as well as animals, because I'm not exactly interested in traumatizing them, either. Is respect given or earned with you? It's given, the way I think it should be. Are you “in the closet” about anything? No. Are you missing any teeth? No. Do you like scrapbooking? I've never gotten into it and am not really interested in doing so. What was or will be your first tattoo? It's a semicolon butterfly on my right wrist. Sometimes I've thought about getting it covered with a cooler design but the same concept; it was literally from Google, and I'm very much not into "sharing" tattoo designs with probably thousands of other people. But, I still think it really is cute, and it's just very special to me as my first, so idk. Do you have any tattoos dedicated to someone special? I have one written in Sara's handwriting inside a heart, and my "ohana" tattoo that I am 100% getting covered was dedicated to my former best friend Colleen. I've talked before about why "ohana" has never really resonated with me, and I just don't like it anymore at all. Thank God it's small. Do you like ghost stories? Oh HELL yeah, lay 'em on me. What was your favorite movie as a kid? The Lion King. Some things never change, ha. Do you own a lot of cookbooks? Mom has looooots, but never uses any. I think her mom gave them to her, so she just keeps 'em. What’s your father’s handwriting like? It looks like every other man's handwriting I've ever seen lol. All the letters are capitalized. Did you wash your hair last time you showered? I wash my hair every time I shower. I have to with it naturally being so oily. What does your shampoo smell like? Coconut. Do you listen to Guns N' Roses? Not a lot, but yeah. They've got some bangers. I actually want "Sweet Child O' Mine" to be the father/daughter dance at my wedding. Have you ever been a bridesmaid? Yeah, at my sister's wedding. What was the last video game that you beat? I replayed Silent Hill 2 a long time ago. Have you ever hyperventilated? Yep. Do you talk in your sleep? I scream in my sleep. Nightmares/terrors are a blast. Whose house did you last sleep over? Sara's. Have you ever been cut by scissors? No. Do you like peaches? It's odd, I like canned sliced peaches, but the actual, full fruit, I don't. I love peach flavored juice, though. Do you enjoy being surrounded by neighbors, or would you be more comfortable someplace secluded? Take me back to the middle of nowhere, please. I'm really not digging being in an actual neighborhood. Is there any sibling rivalry between you and your siblings, if you have any? Not at all. Do you usually root for the good guys or the bad guys? Ha, the baddies... Are you allowed to have pets at your house? We're allowed to have what we currently own and then maybe one dog if Mom finally finds one. Have you ever lived in a trailer park? No. Is there anyone that you know through the internet that you would feel comfortable meeting in person? There's quite a few, actually! Have you ever had a dream involving characters from a game/movie/television show? Yeah. What’s the last thing you wrote down? My signature, I think? Do you remember any phone numbers from years ago that now belong to someone you don’t know? No. Have you ever found something strange in your mailbox? No. Who was the last relative that came to visit you? My half-sister and her husband. Does your bedding all match? Not currently. Are you more comfortable with having short hair or long hair? SHORT. Are you interested in fantasy movies/shows? That's my preference. Have you ever gone whale-watching? No, but that'd be dope. What is something that you have a large amount of? Meerkat plushies. Who is it that you’re in love with? Nobody. Have you ever gotten love and infatuation confused? No. Do you have a steady income? No. Do you take your medications in the morning or at night? Both. Have you ever bought a YouTuber’s merch? No, I wish. :( Do you think oatmeal tastes better when made with water or milk? MILK. I don't eat it with water. When was the last time you ran into someone that you didn’t want to see? Idk. Have you ever tried vlogging, and if yes, did you stick with it? Noooo, I'm completely disinterested in doing that myself. If you go to church, what is your favorite thing about it? I don't go. Even as a kid when Mom made me, I hated it. ^and what is your least favorite thing about it? N/A What do you do for exercise? I don't. .-. I want a pool SO badly to swim and strengthen my legs without having to worry about sweating or collapsing, though. Mom says we don't have space, but we definitely do. Not a lot, but enough. Do you have a birthmark? If yes, what color is it? Yeah, it's just a bit darker than the rest of my skin. Do you need to lose weight? Yes. My sister, Mom, and I very recently started a Weight Watchers subscription and we're all working our asses off to stick to it. Ash has already lost like, 12 pounds (she started before Mom and me), so I'm kinda hopeful. Have you ever had a cat? Growing up, after we took in a stray female, we ended up with a fucking empire of cats, literally around three dozen, I'd say. They were all outdoors, too, and not fixed because we couldn't afford it, so tomcats would come around and, y'know, make matters worse. Eventually, animal control took them all and I was DEVASTATED, but looking back, I understand it was necessary. Anyway, I have one cat now. Indoors and fixed and the prince of my world, haha. Have you ever had a dog? We've had a few. I was born with my dad having a collie named Trigger, but I don't remember her at all; she died of old age I believe when I was very young. Then we briefly had a pup named Angel, but she died due to that disease some puppies just have. We didn't get another dog until Teddy, who was my Christmas present, and he was put to sleep only last year, rest my baby's soul. We also had Dale, Cali, Delilah, and Bentley. Have you ever any other kind of animal? A LOT. I'm probably going to forget some, but we've had hamsters, rats, snakes, fish, a turtle, two lizards, gerbils, guinea pigs... just a lot. Animals have always been very important in my life. Have you ever had a pet rock? HA, yeah. I didn't take it seriously at all, but I had one. When was the last time you painted something? Not since my Painting course in my final college attempt. Do you have any disabilities? Not in the traditional sense, no. My social anxiety though is at such a severity that it majorly infringes upon my ability to do a LOT of things, though. What are five of your favorite stores at the mall? I couldn't name five. Just Hot Topic and Spencer's, really. What season do you want to get married in? AUTUMN. The actual dream situation would be to get married in the snow in a black dress, like can you IMAGINE the pictures, but realistically, it'd be in the fall to avoid the biting cold. Has anyone ever spread lies about you? Yeah. Anything special planned for today? Nope. Blue or green? Blue. How much older/younger than you was the person you lost your virginity to? He's two years older than me. Do you still care for that person? Very much. Can you completely annihilate the first Mario game in less than an hour? I haven't even played the first game. I've never really been into the games to begin with. Did you make it all the way through the Oregon Trail game? Yes! I was OOOOOBSESSEEEEEED as a kid. I would usually play it after school when my mom was an assistant teacher and was finishing up her work for the day. Have you ever contemplated climbing a water tower? Uh, no. Those kind of people got some wanderlust levels that I ain't got, haha. If you have a Facebook, when was the last time you changed your profile picture? It's been a few months. Would you ever marry someone who was lower class? Um, yes? You can deny it all you want, but answering "no" is pretty much the same as saying you'd marry for money. Is there a guy you wish you hadn’t let slip away? ugh Which do you prefer: English or math? English, by light years. Who is a singer that has given you chills? David Draiman's voice in the Disturbed cover of "Sound of Silence" is fucking haunting. Greatest cover of all time. Do you watch America’s Got Talent? I did when Sharon was a judge. Do you think you could win America’s Got Talent? Hell no. What act would you perform in a talent show? uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Have you ever practiced yoga? Yes. I used to be BANGIN at it. What is your favorite thing to buy at the Farmer’s Market? Fruit! Do you get carsickness? No. What color is the rim of your full-length mirror? Black. What is your state’s bird (if you live in the US)? Cardinal. Which style of wedding dress is your favorite? I'm a sucker for ballgown dresses. Do you enjoy editing videos? I used to love it, for many many years. Now, I just don't have the dedication or motivation to. Do you enjoy editing photos? Yes. If you gave birth, do you think you would want it filmed? Um, absolutely not. I would have NO desire to look back on me shrieking my lungs out and essentially dying. I handle abdominal pain very poorly, so I've got a goooood feeling that if I actually wanted to have kids, I'd be that woman screeching like a banshee.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''aerials'' by system of a down

2 notes · View notes

haderberkman · 4 years

Text

Thank You For Marrying Me

Richie Tozier X F Reader

Warnings: Smut, Language

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23

Requested by: @unlikelybeardsublime1212

Y/N and Richie finally made it Hawaii. They stepped off the plane and walked towards baggage claim. They were getting looks and smiled from others in the airport. They still had on their wedding attire and many people congratulated them.

They grabbed their bags and walked outside of the airport, looking for their personal driver that Richie paid for. They saw a man holding a sign that read ‘Mr. and Mrs. Tozier’. They walked over to him and introduced themselves.

“Hey, we’re Mr. and Mrs. Tozier. I’m Richie, and this my wife, Y/N.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I’m Taylor, and I’ll be your driver for the week. Can I get your bags for you?”

Richie nodded his head, and he wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist as they followed Taylor to the car. Richie opened the door and helped Y/N get in as Taylor put their bags in the trunk. Richie climbed in, and Taylor drove them to their hotel. Y/N stared out the window at the view of the beach.

“Wow, it’s so beautiful here.”

“I think that you’re more beautiful.”

Y/N looked over at Richie, and a huge smile came to her face. She leaned towards him, and he met her halfway way in sweet kiss. Taylor lightly smiled at them as he continued to drive.

They arrived at the hotel, and Richie opened the door, helping Y/N get out of the car. Taylor handed the bags to Richie and gave him a card with his number on it. Taylor have them a final wave as he got back into the car. Richie grabbed their bags and walked up to the front desk.

“Hi, how many I help you?”

“Hi, we’re the Toziers, and we’re checking in.”

“Alright, let’s see. Okay, Mr. Tozier. You two are in the honeymoon suite. It’s on the top floor. Would you like help carrying your bag.”

“No, ma’am. I think we can manage.”

“Okay, well, welcome to Hawaii, and I hope you two enjoy your time staying with us.”

“Thank you.”

Richie gave the lady behind the desk a little nod, and he and Y/N walked to the elevator. They got in and rode up to the top floor. They found their suite, and Richie unlocked the door. They walked in, and Y/N admired the room as Richie sat their bags down.

Y/N smiled as she walked over the huge bed that was covered in rose petals. Richie cleared his throat, and Y/N turned to face him. He handed her a glass of champagne, and they climbed the glasses together before taking a sip.

Richie sat his glass down and grabbed Y/N’s, sitting it down also. He wrapped his arms around her and smiled at her before kissing her. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Richie slid his tongue across her bottom, and she opened her mouth slightly, letting him slip his tongue in. Richie pulled away and looked her in the eyes.

“You know, you’re last person I slept with. After our night together, I couldn’t get you out of my head, and now, we’re married.”

“You’re the last person I slept with too. Wow, I didn’t even notice that I hadn’t had sex in over a year till right now.”

“Well, in that case, can I help you out of this beautiful dress, Mrs. Tozier?”

“I’d love for you to help me, Mr. Tozier.”

Richie placed a kiss on Y/N’s lips. He pulled away, and she moan as he began to kiss down her neck. He slowly turned her around and unzipped her dress. She carefully stepped out of it and placed it on the couch. She turned back around and faced Richie. His jaw dropped slightly as he saw her wearing skimpy undergarments.

He pulled her back into his arms and began kissing her lips. He moved to her neck and lightly sucked on her exposed collar bone. Y/N moaned and pushed his jacket off his arms. She loosened his bow tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled his shirt and undershirt off, and he connected their lips again as Y/N ran her hands up his chest. He walked them towards the bed, and Y/N fell onto it as soon as her knees touched it.

She slid up the bed to the pillows, and Richie crawled up the bed to her. He kissed her neck as he unclasped her bra. He pulled it off of her and threw it behind him. He massaged her breasts, and she remembered something.

“I’d be cautious with those. You might end up with a mouth full of breast milk if your not careful.”

“Can I lick and kiss them but avoid the nipple area?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Richie began kissing and licking her breath, but he avoid her nipples. Y/N reached down and attempted to unbuckle his belt. She couldn’t quite get it, and she huffed out a sigh.

“Get your pants off, or lean up so I can help.”

“Eager, are we, Mrs. Tozier?”

“You damn right I’m eager. Pants off, now.”

Richie chuckled as he sat up. He undid his belt and he kicked his pants off. He licked and sucked her neck again, and she snuck a hand under her boxers, grasping him lightly. His head dropped her shoulder and he moaned as she began pumping his member. He slid a hand into her panties and began rubbing circles against her clit. She moaned in his ear.

“Fuck, Richie. Oh my God. I need you in me, please.”

“Anything for you.”

Richie quickly pulled away, and he carefully yanked her panties off her. Y/N removed her hand from his boxers, and she helped him out of them. Once they were off, Y/N laid back against the pillows, and Richie fit himself between her legs. He placed his hands on either side in her head.

“You ready?”

“Yes, Richie. Please.”

Richie leaned down and captured her lips in a another kiss as he slid into her. Y/N moaned against his lips as she felt him slid into her. They shared a low moan as Richie bottomed out.

“Fuck, baby. You feel amazing.”

“Richie, move please.”

He began to push in and pull out of her at a slow pace, and Y/N moaned at the feeling of him. He quicken his pace as he leaned down to kiss her. She moaned into his mouth as her hands gripped his upper arms and shoulders.

Richie shifted, changing the angle, and Y/N moaned loudly as Richie hit her G-spot. She scratched his back as he kept hitting the her special spot, and warm feeling began to build in her lower abdomen.

“I-I’m close. Fuck, Richie. You’re so good at this.”

“I’m close too baby.

Richie quickened his pave, and he began circling her clit. She moaned as she came around his member. Richie moved into her a couple more times before he came in her. Richie pulled out of her and fell on to the bed beside her. Y/N turned onto her side and cuddled into Richie arms. He pulled the blanket over them, and he wrapped his arms tightly around Y/N.

“Thank you for marrying me, Richie. I love you so much, Mr. Tozier.”

“No, thank you for marrying me, Y/N. I love you so much too, Mrs. Tozier.”

Y/N kissed him and laid her head on Richie’s chest, and she feel asleep to the beat of his heart. Richie kissed the top of her head as he settled himself again her. He smiled happily as he thought about his life at the moment. He had a drop dead gorgeous wife, who’s still sleeping, and a beautiful son waiting for them at home. Richie love how his life was turning out, and he couldn’t be happier.

(This is my 100th imagine. Thanks for reading 🥰❤️😭🥺)

#bill hader #bill hader x reader #richie tozier #richie toizer x reader #richie tozier imagine #it chapter two

28 notes · View notes

tgarnsl · 4 years

Note

Constentacles 2 *more happy waving tentacles* and/or Moderno!

Consentacles 2: Electric Tentacles: (my attempt at writing in @sanguinarysanguinity‘s Krakenverse)

Nonsuch’s tentacle loosed its grip on Bush’s hand only to wind itself more tightly around his arm. He smiled, a trifle sheepish, and stroked her with his free hand: she darkened with pleasure, the thin tip of her tentacle slipping beneath the collar of his nightshirt. Hornblower felt a sudden grip on his calf, and looked down to see that Nonsuch had caught him in a bight and was now tightening it as she climbed up him, tugging at his breeches and jacket. Another tentacle caught his hand, and he allowed her to toy with his fingers until she was satisfied and looped securely around his wrist, the suckers biting in as she tasted him.

Bush laughed shyly, still petting Nonsuch’s coil. “I suppose you can tell what she wants, sir,” he said, by way of apology.

“She wants to see me,” Hornblower guessed; he could sense Nonsuch’s want, but could not yet sense the shape of it. She was not a frank creature like Hotspur; anything she might desire would have to be carefully coaxed from her. Bush, at least, seemed to understand her subtleties: he would not like giving orders, but it seemed he was the necessary conduit between kraken and commodore.

“You will take command here,” said Hornblower. There was a strange satisfaction in the notion of giving up control, but Hornblower put the thought aside.

Bush’s discomfort was obvious. “Sir—”

“You will do it. She is your ship and you are her captain. I am merely a secondary.” Bush was unhappy, but Hornblower was unmoved. “You will do it, Bush. For her sake, if not mine.”

Moderno: (contains a multitude of stories set within the 20th/21st century)

After, Hornblower could never say just what had led to that little room on Rue de Villeroy. Perhaps it had been the lucky shot that had grazed his shoulder instead of finding its way to his heart, perhaps it was the curious longing he felt for Maria and the child-to-be she wrote of so often, perhaps it was that cold clear night in the trenches when Bush had lifted his craggy face to the stars and sang in such a sweet baritone Galbraith had cried just to hear it. Hornblower had not wept — music was, for him, a special torture and not something to be wept over — but that memory stayed with him for weeks until they were behind the lines once more.

He’d never been to a whorehouse before. He was the sort of man women fell easily in love with, and before his hasty marriage had enjoyed a small number of discreet but passionate affairs. He considered himself lucky that he had never needed to pay a woman to touch him. Bush, on the other hand, was clearly well-practiced in the art of paying for pleasure. He was, after all, one of the so-called ‘temporary gentlemen’; Bush might be a subaltern now, but before the War he had been a clerk, working in a shipyard, sending his wages home to his mother and sisters. Bush could not afford a sweetheart, least of all a wife. Any love he might have indulged in was paid for up-front and measured in hours.

Hornblower had not seen Maria since the day after their shabby, wretched little ceremony in the registry office. Her dress had been cheap white cotton, tight around the middle where she was already showing. Hornblower and Bush had worn their dress uniforms. It had not been the wedding he’d ever imagined, and when Maria kissed him at the train station, trying very hard not to cry in front of her brave husband, he had almost found himself longing for the trenches again, for the thunder of the guns and the rain of shrapnel, if it meant he did not have to watch his wife weep.

#hornblower #wips #dolly-bassett11

6 notes · View notes

anxiety-trademark · 3 years

Text

The week in review:

Raw 11/09 NXT 11/11 NXT UK 11/12 Smackdown 11/13

Raw:

Shayna vs Lana?? God poor Lana. Preemptive “rip”

Lmfao Lana is so damn extra.

Okay but WHY is Asuka facing Nia later? And where has Asuka even been the past few weeks?

Yikes. Lana is so friggin useless in kf.

Rofl Nia mocking Dana’s voice, I cannot with her.

Did Dana and Mandy actually save Lana from #8?? They got half a point. I get why they’re reluctant to help Lana, but they’re nearly coming off as the mean, popular girls, and I know that’s not their personas. I get she fucked them over, but it was inadvertent. Buy some goodwill guys.

Are they the Gucci girls now? Honestly flashforward to current times, Charlotte fits right in with them. If you were gonna have Charlotte head a stable, Dana and Mandy are the perfect people to put with her.

“We totally saved your butts... Lana.” :/ Dana. Dana plz. With all the work you put into your craft, HOW are you still the weakest promo in the division?

“Okay listen, thank you, you’re welcome,” just let Mandy and Dana practice wrestling cuz their promos are fucking painful.

Lana No-Friends.

Why is Alexa happily destroying flowers??

Lol has no memory of seeing Nikki the week prior. Yikes. Are we still sure it’s not drugs???

“Lexi I’m not playing.” “That’s too bad, Nikki.” What she means, Nikki, is there are 2 options: play or pain. You should just play. Actually side note; wasn’t that Nikki’s whole damn character when she debuted? ‘Nikki wants to play’? ‘Play with Nikki’??

Omfg Alexa is god damn stellar. Nikki tells her to choose either Fiend/Bray or [Nikki]. Alexa thinks about it for a moment, “okay. I choose... *blows the flower petals in Nikki’s face* him!” Then fucking claps, giggles and walks away. Imagine if you had a whole damn roster that could be this entertaining.

Also Nikki is really talented in her own right. Working with Alexa did wonders as far as promos and acting go.

Survivor Series team is supposedly at ringside because Asuka is about to go one on one with Nia. I’m not seeing the correlation.

Shayna officially playing the role of henchman now, I see. That’s interesting.

Asuka does a lot of things worth praising. Her Octopus is not one of them.

It’s always nice seeing Nia bump like she does for Asuka.

Oh that kickout into an armbar by Asuka was BEAUTIFUL.

Asuka said “fuck all y’all we’re busy rn”

I hate Shayna’s hammerfists SO much.

This Survivor Series team is a fucking disaster in kf.

aaaaand there’s number 8. Jeeeeze. “You don’t belong here, you’re gonna drag us down. Just quit.” This is a bullying story done right tbh. No personal petty bs insults, no body shaming. Just straight up physically assaulting the weakest link that has zero friends. It’s a good story. I feel sympathy for sure.

Highlight: Alexa & Nikki backstage segment

---

NXT:

See I don’t mind Shotzi’s backstage promos at all. She exudes passion. I can feel her emotions. But 9 times out of 10 she ends it in a howl and I want to scream.

Weak final thought though. There was really nothing better you could end it on? Okay.

So Xia calls out Raquel and then doesn’t show. Not sure if it’s for kf or meta reasons.

I like Raquel speaking Spanish while brawling. She should incorporate that more, especially with Zelina gone. We need more Latina talent (no disrespect to Bayley or Sasha, if they wanna start speaking Spanish then good on them)

“Everybody better take their-- my name out of their mouth.” SIGH can I get a non-awkward speaker that isn’t Nia? Anyone? Anywhere? Hello??

What the hell does any of this Xia stuff mean? Fine I’ll be patient.

So is Toni a face? I thought she was a heel. Did I misinterpret the heel turn pre-covid era? That’s even worse, she’s even more the same now.

Ugh rough day when I’m here cheering for Toni. God I hate Candice.

Do you really have the right to call anyone a ‘punk rock poser’ Candice? I mean... REALLY?

It’s not that I hate Toni’s headbutt, I just hate it when people take themselves out delivering a headbutt.

Anticlimactic sequence. Toni says fuck your second rope neckbreaker to Candice, then Candice says fuck your second rope leg drop to Toni, just to follow up with a mere kick to the jaw and a pinfall attempt. Missed opportunity to really get something going.

Sad attempt at putting her feet on the ropes by Candice.

Good let Toni be a “sore loser” fuck Candice.

So the masked figure is Indi, right? Why are they keeping her masked? What’s the purpose? Yeahhh that’s really not a surprise. Anyway.

It’s a damn shame what happened in 2020, the whole world has felt it. And it’s a damn shame that you didn’t get to show out in front of 80k people. I truly feel for you. Your loss, however? In kf I can’t feel bad because you sought HER out on HER show. In a meta sense? She did you a favor taking that title. You were 5 seconds from being called Charlotte 2.0, and you deserve better. You deserve the opportunity to grow and make a name for yourself without being handed everything before the age of 25, and you’re SO much better off for it.

The downfall of “nxt’s hottest new act” was a great story. It sucks to be her, but it was a great story. Rhea’s gonna be a fucking STAR on the main roster. She will thrive. She will exceed expectations. She will make a name for herself. She had to eat that humble pie first, though. Obviously I know how this match ends already, and rightfully so.

Highlight: I guess the Io/Rhea Prime Target

---

NXT UK:

Kind of a bummer that there’s only ever one women’s match/segment every week on UK. I want to ponder whether it’d be different sans a pandemic, but I’m not certain it would be.

Xia Brookside is too animated in her moves, and her moves are always too slow for it to mesh well.

They compliment Xia’s “technical work” but she just comes off as someone who has learned the absolute basics and has no idea how to utilize them in a match.

Interesting to note that they seem to be building up 2 heels in Nina and Jinny, yet the champ herself is a heel. Not quite making me believe either of them have a chance at defeating her in the future.

Nice I always love a good codebreaker. Points to Xia.

That was a nice cartwheel off the turnbuckle using the ropes. One would assume the tweak to the knee was a farce.

Stupid small package. Stupid result. At least Nina got some heat back, but she should’ve won, lesbireal.

Side note: I see UK does in fact have a pc. No excuse for these women to get gassed so quickly then, get it together.

Highlight: The network exclusive video package for KLR vs Piper

---

Smackdown:

What a racy outfit. I don’t hate it, Sasha wears it well.

There’s like a million things you can do with Sasha that doesn’t involve a live promo in the middle of the ring. Explore them plz.

Carmella’s not a technical master by any means, but having her superkick and then finish with a facebuster is super weak.

What’s also weak: where the fuck did Bayley go?

What’s even weaker than that: Carmella had like the best theme music and now it’s gone. Tragic.

Lol why is Nattie stomping her feet like she’s throwing a tantrum? She’s hilarious tbh.

“If team Smackdown is going to win,” lmao let me cut you off right there. Imagine the SD women actually winning at SvS. Good joke.

Omg Chelsea is alive? We gave her a tag match in nxt with the women’s champion Charlotte Flair... Charlotte fucking Flair... and then kept her off tv for like 6 months for this? Is this her grand debut?? Is she even ready for the main roster???

Wait hold on. Back up. So Chelsea touched Adam’s shoulder and had some off camera conversation to make her way into this triple threat match? *sigh* okay.

I don’t quite remember who this team consisted of, but if I had to guess, I’d assume Liv wins this match since Ruby is already on the team.

Love Chelsea’s theme music, love that a giant picture of herself is no longer her titantron... HATE the flowy wedding dress veil that she wears on the bottom half of her outfit.

Should stick Chelsea with Nattie tbh.

What the hell was that by Liv? A fake out standing crucifix turned into a ddt? Fucking beautiful.

Nattie and Liv work together nicely ngl. Liv really does have a lot of potential, but she’s god awful on the mic. Tag team wrestling is best for her for the foreseeable future.

“This is a fatal 4way,” Cole reminds us, because Chelsea and Tamina have seemingly died.

Should’ve just made this a singles match between Liv and Nattie, jesus.

Lmfao Liv pinned Tamina. What took Chelsea out? A dropkick off the apron. A dropkick off the apron took Chelsea out for 3 minutes, and she got maybe 3 moves of offense. Yikes, what a debut.

So when does Bayley get added as captain?

Highlight: The match that totally wasn’t a singles match between Liv & Nattie

---

*Bad week in wrestling, but yet again, Raw shines the brightest because as small as their roster may be, they’re being utilized decently well.

#wwe #issa review #feel free to ignore these #cuz who tf cares lesbihonest #today's props goes to:#alexa bliss

1 note · View note

jemej3m · 5 years

Text

part 2 to the assassin au! here’s p1 <<<333

warnings for panic attacks and neil plotting to kill kevin lol

Neil slid into the booth opposite a nondescript man reading the newspaper in his business suit, briefcase by his feet. That briefcase would hold only a gun and the list of Neil’s wrongdoings. He folded the newspaper down in favour of looking to Neil with a blank expression.

Ichirou was not pleased. And it did not do well to displease a Moriyama.

“Kevin Day is alive.”

“Yes.” Neil agreed.

“My father is dying.” Ichirou hissed. “The title of Lord will be passed down to me in a matter of months. I cannot risk such a liability, Nathaniel.”

Neil winced. “It is proving more difficult than anticipated. He has surrounded himself with vigilant protection at all times. I need more time.”

“Do not forget your place, Wesninski.” Ichirou snapped. “Get out of my sight.”

Neil didn’t need to be told twice and did just that.

He felt as though he was holding his breath all the way until he’d arrived back at his apartment. His hands fumbled for the keys, teeth grinding as he tried to unlock his door.

“Josten,” Came a familiar voice. Neil glanced over his shoulder. Andrew had a slight furrow between his brow, dressed casually with black frames balanced on his nose. “Are you alright?” Neil didn’t know Minyard wore glasses.

Concern.

“Quite fine.” Neil answered, shoving his key into the lock. “Just regretting every decision I’ve ever made that landed me in the position I’m in today.”

“Sounds fine.” Andrew answered.

Neil just shook his head, opening the door.

“Josten -” Minyard hesitated. Neil looked back at him: He scowled. “For fuck’s sake. Just come in.”

That was how Neil found himself sitting on Andrew’s couch, the knitting throw over his knees with a cup of herbal tea.

“You didn’t strike me as a tea drinker.” Neil offered, as Andrew sat down on a beanbag. They were all adults here.

“Kevin gets stressed.” He muttered, sipping on his own mug. Steam rose and fogged his glasses.

“I’ve never seen you wear frames before.” Neil noted. “Do you wear contacts usually?”

“I need them to see, Josten, so yes. It doesn’t bode well for a bodyguard to have a physical ailment that can be exploited.”

No, thought Neil, plans ticking over in his mind. It doesn’t.

“Are you going to keep looking at me like I’m some alien, or are you going to explain why you’re on the verge of a panic attack?”

Neil blinked. “What? No, I’m fine.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure you know what that means.”

“Just some altercations at -” Neil smiled hesitantly. “At work.”

Andrew settled further into his beanbag, watching Neil over the rim of his glasses. Why did Neil feel like Andrew could see right through him? Why did he feel so vulnerable? There was no way this man could know anything about who he truly was, not when he was so careful.

Neil should get rid of him too. He was probably just as much of a liability to Ichirou’s position as Kevin was: The two had been friends since college, since Kevin had run from Riko in the first place.

Neil had to get rid of Andrew. He had to. I don’t have a choice. I don’t have a choice.

The mug clattered onto the floor, hot tea seeping into his shoes and the handle shattering upon impact.

“I -” Neil leapt to his feet, horrified at his loss of composure. Neil had killed before. What was another man and his bodyguard? What had changed? “I’m sorry, I -”

Andrew wasn’t pleased. “Relax. Go home and fucking - take a bath, or something. You need to chill out.”

Neil nodded weakly, wrapping his arms around his waist and rushing for the door. He couldn’t look back at the other man. It was the understanding that he offered in the corner of his eye. He wasn’t disgusted by Neil’s scars. He wasn’t put-off by Neil’s seemingly unfavourable job. He kept coming onto the balcony, time and time again, sharing quiet moments alongside Neil and answering Neil’s questions whilst offering his own questions in return.

Neil had posed as someone else to grow intimate enough with someone’s situation to kill them cleanly plenty of times. He’d just never gotten so...

Attached.

He slammed his fists onto the tiles of his shower. For a moment he saw blood pooling in his fists, the way that it tended to rest when he washed himself off from returning from a job.

This couldn’t last. He wouldn’t let it.

“My father was killed in prison.” Neil said, looking out to the sunrise as it blessed the easterly planes of New York City’s sky-rises. “So why the fuck does his ghost still haunt me?”

Andrew took a drag of his smoke. “Attempting to control your own mind will result in you running in circles.”

“I wanted him dead for so long.” He muttered. “But now that he is, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Andrew could understand that. When Aaron bashed Drake’s skull in, when Andrew strangled Proust, it was a moment of clarity: He would forever be free from the horrors they brought with them.

But with their departure came an open space, ready to be occupied by the next man who would try and take advantage of Andrew’s vulnerabilities.

“I killed the man who abused me whilst I was in rehab. I’m subconsciously waiting for someone to come and take his place, like it’s a job opening.” He flicked his cigarette butt over the railing. “There’s no reason why we think and behave the way we do. It’s just ingrained into us.”

He could feel Neil looking at him, gaze drilling into his cheek. He turned his head slowly, meeting Neil’s gaze.

It wasn’t pity. Or fear. It was just pure, unadulterated understanding.

The weight pressing onto Andrew’s chest eased, just a little bit.

Andrew was growing hedgier. Kevin and Thea’s wedding was fast approaching, and the needless press and public appearances had his head spinning. He wasn’t even the one being interviewed.

He was still no closer to figuring out who’d been in their apartment, and how, but Andrew would sleep with one eye open until he’d resolved this mess. He was sure someone was on their tail. Betsy insisted he was being overly paranoid, and demonstrated it was proof that he take some form of break from watching over Kevin, but it wasn’t like Andrew could up and leave. He’d come back and Kevin would be half-pulled into a drain with both of his hands run over by military tanks.

He worked grooves into the carpets. He’d set up cameras around the flat and building that only he had access to and controlled all the access points. It didn’t make him sleep any easier. He wanted to move houses. Kevin thought he was crazy.

Andrew knew he wasn’t crazy. He was perceptive, not crazy.

So, whilst he was pissed off about it, he wasn’t surprised when he got the call.

“You’re going to keep Day in his apartment. You’re not going to call the police. Do as I say and no one gets hurt.”

Andrew ground his teeth. There was only one party who could be responsible for this, and where the Moriyamas were involved, someone always got hurt.

Andrew kept Kevin in his room, walking out onto the balcony. With the three-foot gap between their railings, it was easy to chuck a pen around the corner to Neil’s sliding doors.

The man appeared, bemused and probably tired from a long Friday evening. “Andrew?”

Andrew hated him. Hated the quick to his eyebrows that Andrew noticed when Neil looked at him. “Look after Day. I’m going to hideout for this freaky fucking stalker.”

Neil blinked. “Did I miss something?”

“Weird shit around the place.” Andrew said dismissively. “Always."

“You’re going to have provide me some context, Minyard.” Neil challenged, crossing his arms.

Andrew grit his teeth and looked at the man. Why he trusted Neil was beyond him. He was still not sick of Neil’s inquisitive gaze: He wasn’t bored by his careful questions. Neil had traded quiet truths about hating his work and predispositions set by his family over cigarettes and mugs of coffee. Andrew knew he liked fruit and going for jogs and Exy. Neil, in return, knew Andrew had an awful sweet-tooth, a deliberating fear of heights, knife sheaths in his armbands, and that Andrew had gone to prison when he was younger.

Small, banal things, shared like golden artefacts between hesitant hands.

And yeah, the sexual attraction had been foremost and obvious, but it had dulled into something else. Something Andrew didn’t really understand. He wanted to kiss the slight frown off his lips and see if his curls would really fall through his fingers like he dreamed they would.

No, he thought. That was not a productive line of thinking.

“Kevin is in danger.” He said lowly. “Keep him in your flat. Watch over him.”

Neil nodded.

“Give me your number.”

“This isn’t how I imagined you asking me for my details, but I’ll take what I’ll get.” Neil grinned softly.

Andrew knew his ears were going red for no god-damned reason. He simply served Neil a flat glare and left him standing on the balcony.

“Climb from our balcony to Neil’s. You’ll hide in there until this blows over.” Andrew said, re-tying his shoelaces and checking his knives were in their sheaths.

Kevin sent him a startled look. “Who’s Neil?”

Andrew ground his teeth. “Next door neighbour.”

“Thea -”

“I’ll text her. Leave your phone with me: They could be tracking it.”

He supervised Kevin clambering across between the two railings with a slight race to his heart rate. Neil knew and understood, putting out his hands.

“It’ll be alright.” Neil said quietly. “I’ve got him. Go do what you need to do.”

Andrew nodded. He supposed thanks would be in order, but he wasn’t a thankful guy, and Neil didn’t strike him as someone who needed verbal cues to understand.

He crouched on the inside of Kevin’s room, right by the door with a knife at the ready.

Sure enough, heavy footsteps echoed around the apartment. Andrew held his breath, taking out his phone.

new message to: neil

someone’s in the apartment.

from: neil

where are you?

to: neil

in kevin’s room. waiting for them to come in so i can subdue them.

from: neil

i could take kevin away whilst they’re in the apartment. they wont be keeping an eye on cameras and i’ll disguise kevin to avoid any backup around place.

Andrew frowned.

to: neil

and if you’re attacked?

from: neil

i know you’ve seen the scars. i’m more well versed with this kind of stuff than you think.

Andrew pursed his lips. Neil’s multi-faceted nature had him going in circles, time and time again. He was unsolvable. Having Kevin out of the building would be optimal, but it would require Andrew placing a hell of a lot of trust in Neil. Trust he wouldn’t allow on anyone other than himself.

to: neil

you’d better make sure he stays in one piece.

from: neil

on it.

Andrew breathed a little easier, pocketing his phone.

The footsteps continued. He heard his bedroom door be tested: The attacker obviously tried to pick his lock and was unable to. It was an electronic deadbolt that Andrew could control from the outside on the one and only remote.

Andrew took a deep breath and stood at the ready.

The footsteps didn’t even approach Kevin’s bedroom, turning away immediately and continuing back to the living room.

Odd. They surely would check the room of their desired victim to see if he was there. After a few moments of quiet, Andrew slowly unlocked the door. Element of surprise be damned: He’d fucking get this person if it was the last thing he did. He had a promise to Kevin. He’d fulfill it.

There was no one there. They must have slipped out of the front door, silently, as Andrew slipped out of Kevin’s room. Andrew lowered his knife and grit his teeth. What was this fucker’s game?

He pulled out his phone. Neil had texted him.

from: neil

nothing encountered on the way to the garage. driving now. will text you when secure.

He didn’t want to text Neil to tell him to come back if that was what the assailant was waiting for. Instead, he rummaged for Kevin’s phone and made a call.

“Hello?” Jean’s voice was familiar. He hadn’t escaped the Moriyamas for years after Kevin had, being inducted into the main branch after Ichirou murdered Riko. He’d worked out of his debt, becoming a coveted Exy star in southern California. Andrew hadn’t spoken to him in years, but it was the only man who’d been exposed to the inner working of the Moriyamas.

“Someone is trying to kill Kevin. What do you know?”

“I haven’t been involved in you-know-who’s business in years, Andrew.” Jean countered.

“You still know more than we do.” Andrew countered. “Why now?”

Jean was quiet for a moment. It sounded like he was getting out of bed, walking into an adjacent room. His voice was low, the French accent pronounced when he talked this fast.

“Kengo is dying. Illness that they just can’t resolve. Ichirou would be eliminating any loose ends in anticipation of the change-over.”

Andrew grit his teeth. “Who would he send?”

“I can only think of one man.” Jean mused. “He has a highly trained assassin who takes care of such public and convoluted matters. I met him once and it was enough. That was after years of working with the main family.”

Andrew waited for Jean to continue. It took Jean a moment.

“Nathaniel Wesninski, is his name.” He said, voice so quiet it was difficult to hear. “Kengo’s Butcher had a son, who became Ichirou’s most powerful weapon.”

“What does he look like?”

“He’s unmissable, really. Not great for an assassin. Short, red curls, blue eyes. He always wears clothes to cover the markings left by his father, but his scars are truly awful. Some are even visible through shirts pale or tight enough.”

Andrew’s stomach bottomed out. He hung up on Jean and closed his eyes.

Fuck.

He couldn’t tell Neil he knew who he was. He had to find them before Neil could slit Kevin’s throat and dispose of his body so thoroughly that he’d never be found again. Andrew had made an enormous mistake in trusting that man: It was the least he could do to get Kevin out of his own mistakes.

to: neil

still driving?

from: neil

secure now. got the guy?

Andrew shook his head.

to: neil

yeah. police are coming now. i’m on my way.

from: neil

right. good. see you soon.

Andrew needed to find out where this signal was coming from and fast. He was running against a clock that had ticked into over-time eons ago. In the midst of uploading the IP address into a program on his laptop, his phone began ringing.

Renee.

“Why is Jean telling me to keep an eye on you, Andrew? What have you done?”

Andrew ground his teeth together. His jaw ached with the tension in his neck. “I may or may not have let Kevin go galavanting off with an assassin charged to kill him. I’m working on it.”

“Oh, good lord.” Renee murmured. “I’m - nowhere near you. How can I help?”

“I’ll handle it.” He insisted.

He heard Renee’s sad smile over the phone-line and wished she were here to spar with him. He really needed to punch something. “Whoever claims you’re heartless is a jealous liar. Call me soon, alright? Be careful.”

He hung up on her. He didn’t need her self-love preaching bullshit. He needed to concentrate.

A signal rung out from fifteen minutes ago, pinging a tower in the industrial sector of upper New York. It was too close to the rich estates of business tycoons that Andrew knew housed the Moriyamas for his liking, so he collected his coat and car keys.

His phone began to ring. neil flashed across the top of his screen and he gripped the phone, anger rippling across his skin in hot flashes.

He hated being taken advantage of. This was exactly why trust never came easily to him, and he should have fucking known better.

He answered the phone and grit out “You’d better have a good explanation for this, Wesninski.”

“Andrew,” Kevin breathed. “It’s me. It’s me. I’m fine. I’m alive.”

Andrew covered his eyes with his hand. “Where are you? What’s happening?”

“Neil drove me to this warehouse and cuffed me to a pipe in the corner before I could fight him. Then he looked at me for like five minutes, yelled fuck at the top of his voice and threw a tarp over me and told me not to move or he’d shoot me. I heard voices and cars and gunshots: When everything was quiet I threw the tarp off. Neil is gone, but a bunch of men are bleeding out here. Moriyama men. They’ve got M’s on their knuckles, I - I think Neil’s gone rogue or something.”

Andrew let out a muffled sigh of relief. “Stay where you are. Hide under the tarp. I’m coming.”

Kevin and Thea sat to Andrew’s right. They all perched on the edge of the couch, watching the news.

“Business man Kengo Moriyama died this morning before police could glean a statement regarding his son’s involvement in the mass shooting at a Moriyama leased warehouse on the outskirts of New York City two months ago. FBI’s Chief Wymack and his team have found evidence of premeditated murders at Ichirou’s hand, including that of the supposed suicide of his brother Riko Moriyama approximately seven years ago. Encrypted video evidence has been provided from anonymous sources that police refuse to disclose. Ichirou Moriyama and many of his closest affiliates are in custody, charged with extortion, theft, tax-evasion and money laundering, involvement in trafficking circles and many cold homicide and disappearance cases.

More has been uncovered about the Moriyama business, including that of Nathan Wesninski’s true identity as Baltimore’s infamous serial killer, the Butcher, with evidence showing that Wesninski and Moriyama were heavily involved business partners...”

“Turn this shit off.” Thea muttered, nudging Kevin’s shoulder.

Kevin sighed, rubbing his eye. “I just can’t believe they’ve been so neatly backed into a corner. I never thought they’d be successfully prosecuted.”

“There’s no way they’re getting out of this, now.” Thea reminisced. “Someone pretty close to Ichirou must have turned over a new leaf.”

Andrew said nothing, keeping his hands clasped together over his mouth.

Kevin looked at him and sighed. Andrew still hadn’t forgiven himself over the Neil/Nathaniel mess and anything to do with the Moriyamas lured him into a quiet, volatile state of mind. “I’ll get Indian takeout.”

Thea answered the door forty minutes later, and a familiar voice echoed from the hallway. Andrew was on his feet in an instant.

Neil looked a little sheepish. There was an enormous scar curving from his eye down to his jaw and burns covering his other cheek in a careless pattern. He held out the food.

“Beef and chicken korma?”

“What the fuck do you want?” Andrew asked, brandishing his knife. Thea looked between them, baffled. “Did you kill the take out guy?”

Neil shrugged. “I’ve been granted immunity by the FBI. Only took six weeks and needless wading through bureaucracy, but I’m free now. And no, I didn’t kill the take out guy.”

“I’m going to leave,” Thea murmured, taking the take-out from Neil’s hands and shuffling further inside.

“Why are you here?” Andrew stepped closer, holding the knife closer to Neil’s throat. “You should have known better than to show your face after everything.”

Neil put up his hands. “I know. But I didn’t actually kill him, did I?”

“Congratulations.” Andrew snapped, sour. “Would you like a fucking sticker? A certificate?”

Neil’s lips quirked into a sad smile. “I grew too attached. The idea of hurting him - or you - was intolerable. I’m a terrible assassin, I know. I just wanted to make sure you’re all okay. I’m sure I’ve helped the FBI lock up all the potential Moriyama trouble-makers, but I’m forever paranoid.”

Andrew looked at him.

He shrugged awkwardly. “Seems like you’re fine. I’d best get going.”

He turned around and took a few steps towards the elevator.

“Wesninski,” Andrew called, against his better judgment.

Neil winced. “I changed my name. Legally. It’s Neil Josten, now.”

“Josten.” He amended. “Come in for dinner.”

Neil looked at him, unsure. “Kevin won’t shit himself?”

Andrew shrugged. “It’ll be amusing.”

Neil looked at his feet before letting himself smile, just a little bit. Andrew still wanted to kiss it off his lips.

“Make the wrong move and I’ll kill you.” Andrew murmured into Neil’s ear as he stepped through the threshold of Andrew’s apartment.

“Undoubtedly.” Neil said easily. “I’d let you.”

“Idiot.” Andrew growled.

The glitter returned to Josten’s eye, and Andrew decided then and there: It was a terrible decision, and Josten was a terrible man, but their jagged edges fit together without unsure gaps and abrasive overlaps.

“Did I read your cues wrong, or do you actually want to kiss me? Because I can understand why you’d be a little conflicted, and I was never sure if I was projecting my own confusion and doubt onto you and hoping you felt the same -”

Andrew shoved a kiss against the corner of Neil’s lips, pulling back just as quickly as he’d leaned forward and surveying Neil’s old t-shirt and ratty jeans with distaste. “You truly are bad at your job.”

Neil grinned.

(why did i write 6k for this stupid idea lmao its such a mess)

#andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #assassin!neil #bodyguard!andrew #sorry if they're ooc technically its like a few years post college #idek man #enjoy #jem writes

172 notes · View notes

kurtty-drabbles · 4 years

Text

Krampus au

N/A: Something short if we´re lucky and based on the idea Krampus punishes those who do or want to do wrong. Here, Logan wanted to kill Scott to get Jean as his lust for the woman went cray cray and well, it is time for Kitty to save his ass...again.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @bamfoftheundead @everykurt

Is not often Kitty has time to enjoy the flowers, so to speak, and breaks like this-where nothing ever seems to happen and time moves slower- prove to Kittu that something big will happen. Lockheed was munching on a slice of pizza when Jubilee enters the office with a certain urgency in her face. And that expression alone proves to Kitty something big did happen and once again she must deal with it.

"Kitty, did...did Logan ever enter in contact with you?" Jubilee asked not beating the bushes and Kitty frowns for a moment and tries to recall the last time Logan called. Nothing comes to mind and she shakes her head as Lockheed is eating another big slice of pizza.

"Oh God!" she said in a nervous tone as her hands are moving in a pattern matching the tone as well. "Look, I was trying to see if he was alright and no one in the X-men saw him. No one in the Avengers saw him and ...I have no idea where he is" Jubilee confessed the last part feeling a bit of fear.

"Yeah, is not exactly his thing to worry everyone...let´s think the options, maybe he meets an old friend, and yes I´m using the term loosely here and is catching up with a said friend" Kitty quote and unquote her fingers on the word friend. Jubilee shakes her head now.

"No, it feels as if he dropped from the face of Earth...and if even the Avengers don´t know where he is...then...I doubt he´s catching up with a friend" Jubilee´s reply did make Kitty worry more.

"When was the last time you saw Logan?" Kitty asked not liking this question and having a feeling the answer will not be great, and once again, she´s correct on her gut feeling as Jubilee sighs in defeat.

"On Scott and Jean´s marriage..." Jubilee won´t give any unnecessary detail but this phrase does make Kitty shiver a little in cringe as she recalled Logan on that day and the man was anything but subtle on his "infatuation" for Jean Grey.

"Ok, I´ll take a look. Do you have the Alpha fight´s contact?" Kitty asked as she knows Logan sometimes likes to be true to his Canadian roots and be with other Canadians.

"Cap Canada? Yeah, not as nice as the country portrayed to be ...but, the man also has no idea where Logan is..." Jubilee replied not happy with the situation as to be expected. "me, Laura, and Chamber are worried Logan did something beyond his usual stupidity...You think Cap Canada is covering whatever happened?"

Kitty nods for a moment. "It wouldn´t be the first time and Cap Canada knows Logan longer than us"

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Logan has two houses. One in the US and one in Canada, and both are identical to the point is almost an intentional joke. Almost. She´s visiting the one located in the US and noticed a few things on her arrival. First, the house looks completely wrecked from inside and outside, second, there´s no light in the house and third, his house has a concerning number of Jean Grey´s photos.

A flashlight and Lockheed on her shoulder make the situation less dire if only a little bit. The cabin truly looks wrecked and she notices how something gets inside and...take someone out. Sabertooth wouldn´t ever be this clean "It would have more blood here...instead of shatter glass" she mutters to herself.

She notices a photo of Jean where Scott should have been, instead, his part was cut by what Kitty use was claws. "again, it was not discreet" she mutters and has a concerning picture in her mind about Logan´s mental state.

She ponders if she should call to the Summers warning about the potential threat of Logan went after the couple-and this is a strong possibility given the number of Jean´s pictures- but for some reason decided against. "They´re in the honeymoon...and maybe Logan didn´t went...for this route" Kitty is speaking with Lockheed hoping to convince her more than her dragon companion.

Lockheed flies in direction of the broken window and points to Kitty the footprints. "Good job, Lockheed, maybe Logan didn´t go for that route after all" she responds pleased and Lockheed is not sharing the enthusiasm.

The footprints are strange. It only appears in one location-and Kitty search for more, but, without any success- and it seems whatever took Logan has a feet with 2 toes.

A snap was heard as Kitty took a photo of this footprint. "Ok, you think another Canadian Lovecraftian took him...again?" Kitty asked her friend who mutters in his dragon´s language and proves his lack of interest in Logan´s well being. "Yeah, you two never saw eye to eye"

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

Kitty shows the footprint to Illyana Rasputin and Jubilee - Illyana is on her hell witch´s mood and embraces all her demon side and dark powers as well ignoring her brother's complaint about her to return to be a snowflake- and both have a different reaction to this.

"So...a crypt took Logan, is that what you think? It wouldn´t be the first time..." Jubilee states reviving a few stories about Logan and the crypts in his life.

Yana stares at the image for a moment. "Wait, you said he had tons of images of Jean Grey? The woman he lust?" Yana asked as if she´s seeing a missing piece no one can see and this worries Jubilee and Kitty who nods as well...Logan was never subtle in his crush for Jean.

"And so to be clear...it was completely one-sided?" she asked again with a serious tone.

Jubilee and Kitty exchanges looks. Was one-sided? It certainly looks like it was, but, if Jean did 180 degrees and suddenly went to live with Logan...would be a plot twist no one could ever imagine.

"Look" Jubilee states trying to be as kind to the memory of her father figure as possible. "his crush on Jean was one-sided as it can get and I doubt a woman who married her fiance and is in honeymoon would suddenly change her mind and want another man...is Jean Grey, you remember how she was to pick a wedding dress? Yes, I doubt she is with Logan...I doubt she even knows or care Logan carries a torch for her" Jubilee completes.

"I think she knows...I think she knows and doesn´t care...Thought if she ignored him enough...maybe he would move on...and now, I´m not so sure if that was the best idea" Kitty interjected.

"It does not matter...it really doesn´t...Logan was taken by a Krampus"

"WHAT?"

"Creatures that punish the wick...originally, they´re from Germany and Austria, but, nothing prevents them to going after anyone who commits crimes and Logan...must have committed a serious crime if Krampus arrives here"

"And...what we do?"

"Well...if you want to save Logan...how well, do you, Kitty, handle the cold?" and this is a question that makes Jubilee makes tons of questions and rightfully so.

"Why Kitty?"

Yana blinks and explains. "I´m banned from entering his realm. No mortal can enter in his realm without being a victim and Kitty is the one who can enter because she can phase through dimensions" Yana explains and Jubilee sighs in defeat this explanation does make sense.

"And how do I get out?"

"Phashing...but the problem here is not to get in or get out....the problem is if Krampus will let you even see Logan"

Jubilee is not one to sit on any mission. "Look, if you can´t go...do you know someone that can open a portal for us or something? I don´t want to ''not'' rescue Logan...and I hate to feel useless...plus, if Kitty will face a Krampus, whatever that thing is, she´ll need firepower" Jubilee proves her point by letting her hands glow with her mutation.

"Krampus´s home is awfully cold, literally cold. I could try to make a portal...but then the portal would accept only 3 people. You, Kitty and Logan, and even that will still be too risky"

"I don´t care...I´m in"

"As Jubilee said. I´ll need all the firepower I can get"

"And all the luck too"

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Yana is true to her word and created a portal for Krampus´s address and it was just like Yana predicted to be. "So...he torture people here? in this cozy and nice place?" Jubilee asked in a derived tone. "I can´t believe" she concludes in pure sarcasm.

"Yeah...and it seems he´s a fan of cliches because of the creepy looking mountain appears to be looking at them. Yana said he only punishes the wicked and leaves the innocent in peace, so, Kitty and Jubilee have a chance. Small as it can be is still a chance.

A number of glowing golden eyes watched her for a minute and then vanish like it was never there. "Man, why Logan couldn´t move on like a normal person" Kitty chided his poor choices and Jubilee is not defending the man this time.

Locate Logan, once climbing this creepy and cartoonish mountain, was not a daunting task. The man is tied up by chains and shackles and is conscious enough to see Kitty and Jubilee coming to his way. "NO, he´s behind you!"

And Kitty appears to be prepared as she used the soulsword and faces the Krampus as Jubilee goes to Logan in the hopes of freeing him. The Krampus is a blue man-with horns, his fur is noticeable, his golden eyes are full of mischief and his tail makes it present to Kitty- who is amused at her attempt.

"Ah, Kitty Pryde and Jubilee Lee. Here to steal my criminal?" The Krampus states. "have they told you what he planned to do? Kill an innocent man and take the woman as his prize" and this makes Jubilee stop and look at Logan with total disappointment.

Kitty can´t hide her feelings too. "We´re not here to steal anything...we´re here to make a deal with you, Krampus"

The Krampus looks amused. "Kurt, my name is Kurt...call me Kurt would be like me calling you human"

"No one mentioned...ok, hi, Kurt...we´re here..." and Kurt waves off his hand.

"To make a deal...sure, sure. What you and your friend can offer to make me want to let Logan go?"

"Work for you until his sentence is clean" Kitty speaks as Jubilee sighs and nods not happy with any of this and makes Logan be aware of their feelings. The man, for once, looks ashamed for himself.

"Oh...that is new. The council always says for me to take more deals" Kurt mutters to himself. "I take Magik explains how I work, right?" the two women nod. "excellent" his now good mood and chipper tone are a bit unsettling. "is a deal. You two work for me for a year and after that...I release Logan...a deal is a deal and is sacred for my kind"

The man- she has a hard time calling Kurt IT if he acts and looks so humane-smiles and shakes her hand. The deal is sealed and really, Kitty and Jubilee have things to say to Logan.

Meanwhile, Jean and Scott return from their honeymoon to notice Kitty and Jubilee´s absence.

"Yana, where are Kitty and Jubilee?"

"Saving Logan from a Krampus"

"...Sure, ok. Nevermind"

#krampus au #one shot #kurt wagner #kitty pryde #jubilee le #Logan Howlett #anti Jean x Logan

9 notes · View notes

emospritelet · 5 years

Text

Key to the Cell - chapter 7

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [AO3 link]

Once she had made the decision that no matter the consequences she most certainly would not be marrying Gaston, Belle felt calmer. The approach of the wedding day was a concern, but she told herself firmly that all her research showed that the Dark One could be relied upon never to break a deal. Still, she wished she could talk to him beforehand, to make sure he was definitely going to get her away in time. She wondered what he was planning. If she was entirely honest with herself, she also found him fascinating, and wanted to talk with him some more, especially now that she had finished the book that Jefferson had given her. It had perhaps left her with more questions than answers, and she imagined only he could satisfy her curiosity. Perhaps he would be willing to talk to her again once their deal was over.

Gaston himself had dealt with their disagreement in the only way he seemed to know, which was to sulk until she couldn’t bear it any longer. He still hadn’t apologised, and sat glowering in silence, stabbing at his food and not looking at her, and so she broke the heavy, brooding atmosphere at the breakfast table by initiating conversation. Maurice gave her an encouraging smile when she asked him about his favourite topic - himself - and Belle felt herself cringe as she pretended to be interested in the hunt he had planned for the day after the ball. He grunted responses at her at first, but gradually opened up as it gave him an opportunity to boast about his skills in the field, and the wager he had made with some of his fellow knights. Peace made, Belle could return to her breakfast as he regaled Maurice with tall tales.

She excused herself as soon as it was polite to do so, returning to her room to continue reading the books on magical prisons and light magic. The Dark One’s insistence on a price being paid in return for magic made sense now that she had read more on the theory; she could see why he needed to ask a price in each case. Still, there was nothing that explained why he had only asked her name in exchange for what he had promised, and she wondered how each price was calculated. Was it based on what the Dark One wanted, or what those he dealt with could afford to give? She wasn’t sure either option made any sense in their case.

The day was over all too quickly, and Belle managed to sit through a tedious dinner and watch her father and Gaston get progressively drunker and louder. It only made her more certain of her decision. She just had to get through the next week or so, and the masquerade ball the following evening. Belle was dreading the ball, not least because she would have to pretend to be happy about the impending marriage. Still, perhaps she could spend most of the evening dancing, and avoid too much conversation.

Belle slept poorly, her dreams dark and threatening, and she wanted to stay in bed the moment the maid woke her, so she proclaimed herself to be suffering from a headache again. It had the effect not only of ensuring she could eat her breakfast in bed, but that she would be left alone for much of the day, and she spent the time reading her books. She was no closer to figuring out the Dark One’s true name, but she was at least far more knowledgeable about magical prisons and fairies’ use of light magic. It was surprising to find that much of what the Dark One had told her about his own magic held true for the fairies; perhaps he was right, and intent was meaningless so long as the balance was maintained.

By the time the sun was beginning to set, she decided she could not put off her preparations for the ball any longer. Laying her book aside with a sigh, she rang the bell for Marilee, and got out of bed to wash and dress. It took two hours for her to be made ready, for her hair to be dressed and studded with tiny jewels and her body to be powdered and perfumed and layered up with silk. The gown she had chosen to wear was a muted gold colour, intricate beading on the bodice. It left her shoulders bare, hugging her torso, her breasts pushed high. Belle wriggled her feet in her heeled slippers. At least those were fairly comfortable.

The last addition to her outfit was the mask, an elaborate jewelled piece in gold and red, hiding the upper half of her face. She had thought the idea of a masquerade to be a strange choice, but in some ways she was relieved; she would not have the chore of standing and greeting all the guests, after all. Music was floating up from below, and she took a deep breath as she stared at her reflection. I can do this. I can play a part for tonight, at least. Only ten more days and I shall be free.

Belle glanced to the side of the dresser, where the card issued to all those attending the ball lay, thick cream paper edged with gilt, Gaston’s family crest at the top and the hour that the ball would start beneath. On the back were the rules of engagement, which she knew by heart. No revealing one’s name unless someone guessed it correctly, and then only to that person. Talking and dancing with a large number of guests was expected, as were questions about their life and passions, in an attempt to guess their identity. Changing one’s voice was optional but added to the mystery of who lay behind the mask. On the stroke of midnight, masks would be removed, and the guests’ identities revealed.

A thin line had been drawn beneath the time of the ball, awaiting the false name that all guests would choose. Belle hesitated before dipping her pen in some ink and writing Taliah. She remembered the name from a favourite story she had read as a child, about a girl who decided she would never marry, and had run away from home when her father insisted on arranging a match. Taliah had disguised herself as a boy and had travelled to the city to become a scholar at the university, and then a teacher. Her adventures along the way had made for exciting reading, and eight-year-old Belle had announced that she wanted to be just like Taliah. Her father was unimpressed, and one day the book had disappeared from its spot on the shelf, never to be seen again.

Belle dusted the card with fine sand to dry the ink and took a final glance in the mirror. Ready as ever I’ll be, she thought. She made her way down the wide marble staircase, one gloved hand sliding over cool stone. The sounds of music and laughter rippled over her, and she took a deep breath as she swept along the corridor to the ballroom. It was already filled with ladies and gentlemen in bright silks and velvets, masks adorned with feathers and sparkling with jewels. Belle handed her card to one of the footmen, who announced her name loudly as she entered. The guests turned to look over the new arrival, and Belle moved swiftly to the long tables holding bowls of punch and glasses of wine and brandy.

She wanted to avoid conversation until she was more sure of the identities of some of the guests, and so she took a glass of punch and sipped at it, eyes flitting across the ballroom. She could see Gaston, easily recognisable by his size, and his bellowing laugh. He was deep in conversation with a woman who she suspected was one of Lady Tremaine’s daughters, but she wasn’t sure. Gaston leaned in to whisper something that made her squeal and slap his arm playfully, and Belle rolled her eyes. Flirting was expected at these occasions, of course, but she wasn’t in the mood for it.

Her father was nearby, talking to a man by whose voice and bearing she thought was King George. A young man stood by his side, a mask in blue and gold hiding most of his face, whom she suspected would be Prince James. His attention appeared to be on a dark-haired woman in a white dress and mask edged in silver and topped with white feathers, talking and laughing with another young woman. Belle sipped at her punch, smiling as two ladies in pink and green dresses which clashed spectacularly hurried past, arm-in-arm and giggling. The two clearly knew one another, and the blonde hair of one of them made Belle suspect Lady Ella was enjoying her first formal ball since becoming engaged to Prince Thomas. The music changed, and the guests hurried to put down their glasses in preparation to begin the dancing. Belle sighed as she glanced around for a partner. Time to do my duty.

“My Lady?”

Belle turned at the sound of a man’s voice, eyes narrowing curiously. The man who had greeted her was short, not much taller than she, and thin, with tight-fitting breeches in soft black leather beneath a gold brocade waistcoat and cream silk shirt, a close-fitting coat in blood-red velvet over the top. His hair was worn longer than was fashionable, brushing the collar of his coat, streaks of silver in amongst the brown. Something tugged at her mind, a flash of memory, and she found her curiosity grow. The man bowed, arms spreading outwards, and he gazed up at her with deep brown eyes behind his red and gold mask.

“May I have this dance?” he asked.

There was an accent there, a slight burr to his voice, and she felt that tickle of memory again. Setting down her glass of punch, she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the floor as the music started up. His hand was warm at her waist, and he began turning her through the dance, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. She realised that the colours of his outfit matched her own perfectly, as though it had been planned that way, though she couldn’t see how. There was a flash of colour at his wrist, a bracelet clumsily woven from coloured threads, its rough presence somewhat incongruous against the cream silk cuff of his shirt, and she wondered whether it was a clue to his identity. Belle studied his face, noting the fine lines around his mouth which, along with the silver streaks in his hair, indicated he was in his middle years. She mentally discounted a number of noblemen she knew.

“I believe we’re supposed to guess each other’s name,” she said, and he smiled.

“Oh, for my part that’s easy enough,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Lady Belle.”

His eyes were fixed on hers, dark and intense, and she felt her own widen as she recognised something in them. Something she remembered from a darkened room and a deal made for her freedom.

“You!” she whispered. “It’s you!”

“That is not guessing my name,” he said, with a touch of severity, the snide tone she remembered returning to his voice. “That is merely stating a fact.”

Belle giggled a little, feeling his hand tighten on hers as he turned her around.

“Well, as I haven’t been given your name, sir, you have me at a disadvantage,” she said. “You didn’t look this way when we met. Changing your entire face is against the spirit of the masquerade, you know.”

“This is merely a glamour,” he said, in a dry tone. “I suspect my true appearance would cause something of a panic.”

“Not to me,” she said. “How did you get here? I don’t recall sending an invitation to the Dark Castle.”

He gave a wry smile.

“I was called on by a desperate soul, of course,” he said.

“At Gaston’s ball?” she said, amused. “I know I’ve been dreading the occasion, but it’s not something that requires magical assistance to escape.”

He grumbled, casting what seemed to be a critical eye over the dancers.

“Well, not something that any of your guests would care about, I suspect,” he said. “A poor peasant woman, robbed of the last few coins she had to feed her children. Desperate indeed.”

“That’s terrible!” said Belle, upset. “Were you able to help her?”

“Of course,” he said lightly. “She asked for little. A roof over her head, enough food to keep her and her children alive through the winter. All three are, as we speak, in a small cottage on the edge of town, no doubt with full bellies for the first time in months.”

“Good.”

“Along with an admonition to keep her coins out of sight in the future,” he added. “It’s not wise to show gold in some parts of the town. Not the parts she was living in, anyway. Little wonder she was robbed.”

Belle stopped suddenly, causing a nearby couple to side-step swiftly to avoid a collision. A dreadful thought came to her as she eyed the woven bracelet at his wrist.

“Gerta,” she said slowly. “Her name was Gerta.”

“You know her, my Lady?” He sounded surprised.

“I - I gave her the money,” admitted Belle. “She was begging in the town two days ago, I - I only wanted to help!”

“And so you did,” he said soothingly, pulling her into the dance again. “She’s well. She and her children. The boy no longer limps.”

Belle caught at her lip, emotion welling up within her.

“That - that was very kind of you.”

“Don’t say that!” he snapped. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

Belle giggled.

“Yes, I’m sure providing charity for widows and orphans will simply destroy it.”

“She asked for the Dark One’s help,” he said defensively. “I never break a deal.”

“And what did you ask in return?”

The Dark One leaned in, lips almost brushing her ear, sending a shiver through her body.

“All that they had in the world,” he hissed malevolently.

“Well, I happen to know they had nothing,” said Belle, unfazed.

He straightened up, smiled a little ruefully, and nodded to the bracelet of coloured threads at his wrist.

“Really?” said Belle, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Her daughter’s homemade bracelet?”

“As you said, they had nothing else,” he said carelessly. “Besides, I have no need of gold.”

“Hmm.” Belle eyed him. “I think you’re not as dark as you want people to believe.”

He grinned, baring his teeth as he pulled her tighter against him.

“Maybe I’m darker.”

“If that were true, you’d have left them to starve,” she said, trying to ignore the way her heart thumped at the press of his body. “You certainly didn’t have to fix the boy’s limp. That wasn’t part of your deal.”

“If I hadn’t, he would only have been a burden on his mother,” he said, sounding affronted. “What would have been the point of me saving them if they just die more slowly? I don't have time to run around the kingdom saving waifs and strays every five minutes.”

“Hmm,” said Belle, lips pursing. “And here you told me you were evil.”

He pulled her a little closer, leaning in so that his lips brushed her ear.

“Oh, I am, dearie,” he whispered, making her shiver. “There are different kinds of darkness in this world. I could make that odious lump you’re promised to peel off his skin and dance until he dropped. I could turn the wine to poison and wipe out this entire ballroom. But oppression, exploitation and neglect: those are the weapons of your kind, not mine.”

Belle frowned, hand tightening on his shoulder a little, but after a moment she nodded reluctantly.

“I suppose in all too many cases that’s true,” she admitted. “But why would the Dark One care?”

He was silent for a moment, turning her around with a sudden whisk of his arm, making her cling on a little tighter.

“Magic is all about balance, whatever your intentions for the use of that magic might be,” he said eventually. “Give and take. If I didn’t try to keep that balance what sort of sorcerer would I be? Besides, no parent should have to choose between feeding their children or healing them.”

His eyes left hers for a moment, his gaze far away, and Belle wondered what he was thinking. She suspected that his final line, delivered in a flippant tone, represented his true feelings on the subject, but she doubted he would open up further.

“You were never a noble, were you?” she said. “You seem to have nothing but contempt for my kind.”

“Well, don’t feel too bad, I generally feel contempt for most people.”

Belle shot him a flat look.

“I wish I knew your name,” she said. “It seems wrong to simply call you ‘Dark One’.”

“That’s what I am,” he said, in a dry tone.

“You weren’t always,” she said. “I’ve read that the Dark One’s powers are passed from person to person. So you must have been an ordinary man once.”

His mouth had opened a little, his eyes widening behind the mask.

“You - read about me?” He sounded astonished, and Belle lifted one shoulder and let it drop, a tiny shrug.

“Of course. I never met a mystery I didn’t want to solve.”

He whirled her around, almost lifting her off her feet, and Belle was breathless when he pulled her close again, his warmth seeping into her.

“And what have you discovered, my Lady?” her asked, his voice a low rumble that made her belly clench.

“That the Dark One’s power is transferred by ritual,” she said excitedly. “Magic harnessed by the power of a mystical dagger.”

A muscle twitched in his cheek.

“A dark ritual?” he said quietly. “That’s one way to describe it, I suppose.”

“Am I right about the dagger?” she asked, and he eyed her soberly.

“All Dark Ones possess the dagger,” he confirmed. “Its use is - essential - in the creation of the next Dark One.”

“Where is it?”

His mouth twisted.

“I cannot say.”

Belle frowned.

“You can’t— do you mean you don’t know where it is, or that your curse won’t allow you to tell me?”

“I know where it is,” he said, but did not elaborate. Belle clicked her tongue in exasperation, anger at the Blue Fairy making her breath quicken.

“So you can’t tell me,” she said, almost to herself. “Right.”

They followed the whirling steps of the dance, easily side-stepping another couple, and Belle glanced up at him again.

“Were you a sorcerer?” she asked. “Before, I mean? The book said all Dark Ones were powerful sorcerers.”

He was silent for a moment, stepping back on one foot to whirl her around again, and Belle clung to his shoulder, breathing hard.

“The curse seeks out desperation,” he said finally. “The despair I felt was certainly powerful, but I had no magic of my own. Not magic as you would understand it, that is.”

"I don't understand."

"Magic is fulled by emotion," he said. "Rage, fury, and hate. Fear. Love. There is power in emotion. Controlling it is the tricky part."

"Does that mean anyone can learn to use it?" she asked, and he pursed his lips.

"Given time and training, perhaps," he said. "Some have a natural affinity, of course, but anyone can learn the basics of potion-making. Casting spells is more difficult."

Belle chewed her lip, thinking hard, her hand held tight in his as they swept across the floor.

“I read about fairy magic, too,” she said. “About light magic in general, and the balance that has to be maintained.”

“Yes,” he said dryly. “All magic comes with a price.”

“So who decides on that price?” she asked, and he sucked his teeth.

“How much is needed depends on the magic required,” he said. “How that price is paid is up to the wielder.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said slowly. “So in that case, is dark magic really any different from light? Is the source different, or is it merely the wielder that makes it dark or light?”

He was smiling slightly, his eyes gleaming behind the mask.

“You have an inquiring mind, my Lady,” he said. “You would have made an excellent apprentice.”

“Is that an offer?” she teased, and his smile grew.

“I have no desire to hide you away with me in the Dark Castle.”

“Couldn’t be any worse than becoming Gaston’s wife,” she said flatly. “D’you know the Blue Fairy tried to convince me that I should marry him for his own good? That saving him should be my life’s work?”

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” he said. “The Chief Gnat and her swarm tend towards more traditional views. Nothing can upset the way things should be, in their eyes.”

“I’m sure they can’t all be like that.”

“Perhaps not as far as you’re concerned,” he said. “Their opinion of me is fairly - consistent.”

“I’m more than capable of forming my own opinion, thank you.”

“Oh, I should never try to contradict that.”

He turned them again, moving further away from the other dancers, and out onto the stone balcony, where he slowed to a stop. Belle held onto him for a moment, catching her breath, her fingers clutching at the soft velvet of his coat. The night was pleasantly cold after the heat and crush of the ballroom, and she turned her face up to the stars with a sigh. He released her, stepping back, and Belle turned to face him, smoothing the skirt of her dress, the flush in her cheeks not all due to the heat.

“How long can you stay?” she asked.

“I must leave soon,” he admitted. “I can already feel the magic tugging at me, wanting to pull me back in.”

Belle stepped forward, laying a hand on his arm, and he glanced down at it, as though surprised at her touch.

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “It’s not right that you’re trapped. I wish I could help.”

“Thank you.”

The music from the ballroom rose to a crescendo and stopped, allowing for applause from the dancers before starting up again in another lively tune. Belle watched the Dark One stride slowly back and forth across the balcony, hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed a little, as though he was thinking. She could feel curiosity burning inside her, the need to know more about him almost unbearable.

“Why did you ask nothing from me but my name?” she asked, and his eyes flicked up to meet hers.

“Do you wish to give more?”

“Answering one question with another isn’t a real answer.”

He chuckled, glancing away from her, and there was silence. She waited, unwilling to be the first to break it.

“I can see the future, you know,” he said at last. “It makes for interesting viewing at times, especially when dealing with people. I can always turn it to my advantage if I so choose, while still giving them what they ask for.”

“And what did you see when I called on you?”

He turned his head to face her, dark eyes fixed on hers.

“Nothing,” he said simply. “Nothing at all.”

“Is that unusual?”

“It’s never happened before,” he admitted. “I was - curious.”

Belle took a step closer, until she could hear his breath and smell the scent of him in the air. Until she could almost feel the heat from him.

“What do you think it means?” she asked.

The Dark One held her gaze, and she could feel her heart thudding hard in her chest, her skin tingling with excitement. He lifted a hand, and for a moment she thought he was going to touch her, fingers dancing in the air. But then he stepped back on one foot, pressing his fingertips together.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’d like to find out.”

“So would I.”

Another pause, a moment when their eyes met and the air between them seemed to thicken and crackle and hum, as though something momentous would happen. Belle waited for it, almost breathless, but the Dark One dropped his gaze, reaching for her hand and bending over it. The press of his lips made a tingle run through her.

“Until we meet again, my Lady,” he said quietly, and disappeared in a plume of red smoke.

Belle started, looking around to see if anyone had noticed, but the guests were too absorbed in the dancing and each other to pay attention. She smoothed the skirt of her dress with restless hands, trying to calm herself. Gaston lurched over, brandy glass in hand and the smell of drink already floating around him.

"Belle?" he said. "It - is Belle, yes?"

She nodded wordlessly, and he took a slurp of his drink, bouncing on his toes.

"Who were you dancing with?" he asked.

"I didn't guess his name," she said, and he grunted, throwing back the rest of the brandy and setting down the glass.

"Short, skinny excuse for a man, from what I could see," he said. "Come and dance with me."

"I'm really rather hot and would prefer—”

"Come and dance with me," he ordered, and grasped her hand, tugging her towards the floor. Belle glowered at his back as he pulled her along.

Ten more days. Ten more days and I shall be free.

#fic: key to the cell #rumbelle fic #dark castle rumbelle #my fic #rumbelle

54 notes · View notes

noona-clock · 5 years

Text

I’ll Be Fine - Part 8, Final Chapter

Genre: College!AU/Fluff

Pairing: Jae x You

By Admin B

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, The Great Cookie Bake-Off

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this happy to hear your alarm go off.

Well, to be fair, you weren’t happy because you were about to get ready and go to class. You were happy because Jae was your boyfriend. Your real, not fake boyfriend.

But, still. You turned the alarm off with a smile on your face, and that was definitely something new.

In fact, you brushed your teeth with a smile on your face (which turned out to be a little difficult to maneuver). You got dressed with a smile on your face. You walked to class with a smile on your face.

And then you thought ‘screw it I don’t care if it’s early’ and sent him a text.

You figured he was probably still sleeping, so you slid your phone into your coat pocket and continued on to class.

...Color you surprised when you felt your phone vibrate not even a minute later.

You could just imagine what Jae looked like right now, snuggled in bed, smiling at his phone. It truly melted your heart.

And then you realized how cheesy and annoying you were being. Smiling constantly. Thinking about how cute your boyfriend was constantly. And, if given the chance, you knew you would talk about how cute your boyfriend was constantly.

It’s tough being in a new relationship, but... someone’s gotta do it!

You somehow managed to get through your ecology class with only a little distraction. It helped it was the very first class of the semester, and the professor was basically just going over the syllabus, so it didn’t even really matter in the end.

Once your second class of the day, your psychology class, was over a couple of hours later, you began your journey to the dining hall, your heart starting to beat erratically in anticipation of seeing... do I even have to say it?

After you arrived and flung the door open, your eyes automatically searched for that familiar head of blonde hair... but to your surprise, they landed on a familiar head of pink hair, instead.

“When did you do that?!” you cried after hurrying over to the table he’d saved for you.

Jae jumped a little, obviously startled by your sudden appearance - and exclamatory question.

“Just now,” he answered, looking a little confused as well as startled. “I thought you liked the pink?”

“I do!” You slid into the seat next to him, reaching out and gently touching his hair. “Actually, the first thing I wanted to do when you showed up at my house was to ask if you would dye it pink again once we got back to school.”

Jae narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously. “So... you’re saying I read your mind.”

“I don’t know... what am I thinking right now?” you asked, narrowing your own eyes back at him.

“That I look cuter than I ever have.”

“Oh my god, you’re right!” you gasped. “What about now?”

“That... you want a cheek kiss.”

“Stop. You’re starting to freak me out.”

He leaned over, hiding a smile as he pecked your cheek.

“Wait, what about now? What am I thinking now?”

“You’re thinking about how hungry you are.”

“Okay, if you’re gonna say I feel like getting sushi, then you can definitely read my mind.”

“...You feel like getting sushi.”

“Well, that’s it,” you announced, throwing your arms up in defeat. “My boyfriend is a mind reader.”

Jae beamed, reaching over underneath the table and squeezing your knee. “Sushi it is,” he murmured before pushing himself out of his chair and heading over to the sushi station. You, of course, attempted to tell him he didn’t need to get it for you, and you even started to get out of your seat to join him... but then his phone lit up and vibrated.

Your eyes instinctively flashed down to it, and you were about to scold yourself for being nosy. But then you saw what the notification was.

A message. From Jamie.

You clenched your jaw as you began to type out a response.

You had to actually let out a breath once you’d sent it; you’d never spoken to anyone like that before, but... now that Jae was actually your boyfriend, you were taking absolutely no shit from that girl. (To be honest, though, you did kind of feel bad for calling her a dumb bitch. That was just mean. But you couldn’t take it back now, and there was no way you were apologizing to her.)

Before you could forget, you went into her contact information, your finger hovering above the ‘Block this Caller’ option...

But you couldn’t do it.

Not until Jae got back, that is.

“Hey, can I block Jamie’s number?” you asked casually when he arrived with two plates of sushi.

“Yeah,” he answered immediately. “Go for it. I kept meaning to, but someone’s been distracting me lately. Got my mind on other things.”

“Oh, really?” you asked as you (with great pleasure) tapped on the screen.

Successfully blocked.

“Yeah, this really beautiful girl has been kind of following me around for the past few weeks. She even invited me to her house for Christmas. I was flattered, don’t get me wrong, because she’s beautiful. But. Y’know. It was a little creepy.”

“Wow, that is so weird! Because this really cute guy has been following me around for the past few weeks! And he showed up at my house for Christmas! Man, we should probably talk to campus security about the stalking situation at this school,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Okay, speaking of stalking,” Jae mumbled as he shoved a California roll into his mouth. “Did you just remember you wanted to block Jamie’s number?”

“Oh! No, she texted you. I texted her back... I hope that was okay.”

Jae simply nodded, his mouth too full to actually speak at the moment. But he slid his phone off the table and navigated to the conversation.

His eyes widened after a moment, and you had to reach over and push his jaw closed because he hadn’t yet swallowed his bite.

“You...” He slowly looked over at you. “Remember that time I said I didn’t want to get on your bad side because you’re kind of an Evil Genius?”

“Yes,” you blushed.

“Now I really don’t want to get on your bad side. That message was...” He simply shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” you said with a bit of a whine, now feeling pretty guilty for letting your emotions take over. “I shouldn’t have been that harsh. I just got so -- I mean, you’re my boyfriend. For real. And when I think about what she did, I just -- My mother hen side took over, and I couldn’t --”

“Thank you,” Jae murmured softly, reaching out and putting his hand over yours.

You stopped talking, your gaze immediately shifting over to him. “Thank you?”

“Thank you for defending me. For protecting me.” He took hold of your fingers, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing it. “Your Mother Hen side is terrifying, by the way.”

You pressed your lips together, biting back a shy smile as your cheeks warmed with slight embarrassment.

“Y’know,” you began, tilting your head slightly as you really studied him. “hearing the words ‘Mother Hen,’ you do kind of look like --”

“Don’t say it.”

“...Say what?”

“Just don’t,” Jae ordered, holding his hand up in-between you.

“Okay,” you said meekly with a very angelic smile.

After you’d both had your fill of sushi, Jae announced he had a class in about an hour. Plenty of time for you to take your time walking him there because, to be honest, you’d been looking forward to holding his hand for real. Hugging (and kissing) him goodbye for real.

So the second Jae let go of the door to the dining hall, you reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his.

“Well, excuse me,” Jae chuckled teasingly. “Couldn’t wait any longer, could you?”

You simply shook your head, and Jae held onto your hand even tighter. Apparently, neither could he.

As the two of you strolled leisurely down the sidewalk, you had to admit: it was different. I mean, of course, it was different. Before, you’d been holding hands because of a contract you’d signed to make people think you were a real couple. Now, you were holding hands because you were a real couple.

But, still. It even seemed like something in the air was different. Like your fellow students were different, too.

...Or was that just you being crazy?

It probably was.

Either way, you couldn’t put into words how nice it made you feel that all the things you’d done together as a fake couple were now a reality. They would become your everyday life for... hopefully, a long time.

I guess... your mom had been right. You would never tell her that, even on your wedding day, of course. But she had been right.

Finding the right person did change your perspective. Finding someone who accepted you completely as you are was a precious thing. You had never, ever thought you’d find that with Jae...

But as you looked over at him as you walked, you knew you had.

You took a step closer to him and quickly pressed a kiss to his cheek, pulling away with a loud ‘MUAH.’

Jae shrugged his shoulder as if your kiss had tickled him, glancing over at you with a curious smirk. “What was that?”

“Just a kiss,” you explained with a soft sigh. “Because I can.”

“This is true. I did say yesterday that kisses are always necessary, so you are free to do it whenever you want. You can kiss me when you’re hungry, when you’re lonely, when you’re sad, when you’re happy --”

“Stop!” you cried. “That one. I’m that one.”

“Happy?”

“Yes,” you beamed. “I’m happy.”

Jae slowed to a halt, pulling on your hand and bringing you closer to him.

“You know something?” he asked softly, gazing into your eyes.

“I know a lot of things.”

“Here’s another thing to add to that list: I’m happy, too. For the first time in... too long. I’m really, really happy.”

You couldn’t hold yourself back from standing on your toes, grabbing Jae’s ridiculously handsome face, and pressing your lips to his.

I mean, the guy had just told you to kiss him when you were happy, so what other choice did you have?

Two Months Later

“You know it’s our two month-iversary, right?” Jae told you with a smirk.

“That’s not a real thing,” you chuckled.

“Is too,” he insisted, squeezing your hand as the two of you strolled down the sidewalk towards your afternoon classes. “And the two month-iversary gift is rose gold.”

“It is not!” Your chuckle had turned into a laugh, and you were shaking your head at your boyfriend’s silly antics.

Jae slid his free hand into his pocket, pulling out a small, velvet box. “Here,” he murmured, handing it to you.

You quirked a brow as you took the box from him, and he let go of your hand so you could open it.

When your eyes landed on a beautiful rose gold ring with a heart embedded into the band, you let out a soft gasp.

“What! Jae!” you cried, looking up at him with immense surprise.

He was simply grinning like a fool, and he lazily reached out to pull you closer to him.

“I just wanted to give you that to say… I love you.”

You stood on your toes and pressed your lips to his, clutching the box in your hand and just holding yourself back from letting out a squeal of joy.

“I love you, too,” you whispered. You’d actually been waiting at least a couple weeks to say this to him, but you had been the one to confess your crush first - it was his turn to confess first!

So you’d been making it extremely obvious to him that you loved him since you knew he would never say it first unless he was certain you felt the same way.

You’d been telling him how happy he makes you. How you much you miss him when you’re not together. How often you think about him (which is a lot, by the way). You’d said, “I care about you so much.” You’d asked him if he’d eaten, if he’d gotten home safely, if he’d done his homework. You’d played video games with him instead of scolding him for being glued to the computer screen.

Basically, you’d done and said everything which wasn’t actually ‘I love you’ but which meant ‘I love you.’

And it had paid off.

The smile on Jae’s lips after hearing you return his confession made your heart positively glow, and you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing him again.

“You know what else I would love?” you asked as you took the ring out of the box and slid it onto your finger.

“...A necklace to match?”

“Okay, not what I was going to say, but yes. I would love that.”

“Noted.”

“What I would also love is to hear that new song you said you’ve been working on...”

Jae let out a groan, but you could tell he was trying to hold back a bashful smile. “It’s not ready yet!”

“Please?” you pleaded, pouting your lip and widening your eyes up at him. “I’ve heard you play once since you started playing guitar again. You said you’ve been practicing, I want to hear how good you’ve gotten!”

“The song I’m working on is... very special,” he told you.

“But --”

“If I play for you,” he interrupted. “Can I play something else? And then promise to play my song for you when it’s done?”

You knew that was the best offer you would get, so you accepted immediately.

“All right,” Jae relented with a sigh. “My room. Tonight. 9pm.”

“Why that late?” you asked curiously.

“Because Wonpil is going home for the weekend, and I wanted an excuse for you to just spend the night,” he grinned cheekily.

A soft blush crept on your cheeks, but... you didn’t say ‘no.’

Later that night, as Jae was down the hall taking a shower, you had decided to do some online shopping on his computer. Not that you could really buy anything because you were a broke college student, but Jae had just gifted you with a gorgeous, beautiful ring. You wanted to get him something! Or at least plan to get him something!

You hadn’t been having much luck, though, and you ended up closing out of the web browser with a soft, melancholy sigh.

When the desktop came up, one specific icon caught your eye... It was a word document, and the file name was a music note emoji.

Could it be... perhaps... the song he was still working on?

He’d played a popular song everyone knew for you on his guitar not even an hour ago, but he had still refused to play the song he himself was writing.

...Was this document it?

You knew you shouldn’t... You shouldn’t open it. You shouldn’t read it.

But you did anyway.

Your eyes flitted across the screen as you began to read what you assumed were the lyrics Jae had written.

In life, there aren’t many days When things go your way There are more days when it didn’t go my way Will today be another one of those days? I am pretty worried

After I tell you these words I’m not sure if we can go back To smiling like we are now But I have to I…

I like you I tried holding it back But I can’t anymore Now I can tell you I want to love You

Your eyes are shaking It’s shaking up my heart

After this moment I’m not sure if we can go back To being natural But I have to I…

I’ve thought of you like this But if you don’t feel the same

You just need to tell me “I’m sorry” and I’ll be fine

I like you I tried holding it back But I can’t anymore Now I can tell you I want to love You

When Jae’s dorm room door opened, you immediately closed out of the document and spun around in his desk chair to face him.

“Hey, my little wet chicken nugget,” you greeted, trying to hide your shaky voice.

“It’s burnt chicken nugget.”

youtube

“That’s okay, I still love you,” you replied.

Because you did. You had a feeling that song he was working on was about the beginning of your relationship because that’s exactly how you’d felt when you’d confessed to him, and to you, that was better than any mushy, gushy, cheesy love song.

Because, when it came down to it, you guys did love each other. But you also liked each other.

You liked each other’s company, each other’s personality. Jae accepted you for exactly who you were, and you accepted Jae for exactly who he was. You admired and respected each other, and your romantic love was just a byproduct of that.

So, really... a song about the two of you liking each other... was perfect.

“I still love you, too,” Jae grinned as he shuffled up to his chair and leaned over to plant a kiss on your lips. “Even if you are nosy and look through my things without asking.”

...Whoops.

Master list // RULES // Read About the Admins

694 notes · View notes

moonlightmadnessreviews · 5 years

Text

Don’t Look Now

You know what the air feels like towards the end of September? Where it’s breezy, but not enough to cool you down or whip your hair into your face? That’s what this night was like. I’d left work much later than usual, so even on this summer night, I’d already missed the sunset. There wasn’t a trace of the pinks and purples in the sky that people sit out on their porch to enjoy. Parking spots for paralegals were lined up about 10 or so rows behind that of the lawyers, meaning I had quite a walk back to my car. The parking spots sat in front of a line of thick, tall trees. They looked like bodyguards standing watch over the varying vehicles. I usually didn’t mind the walk back to my car but on this particularly cool night, I’d noticed the light closest to my spot was out. As I saw this, my eyes followed the post downward catching sight of some shattered glass. Instantly, something just didn’t feel right to me.

My pace quickened and I fumbled inside my bag searching for my keys. Reaching my old Volvo, my fingers finally felt something familiar. Just then I heard a rustling coming from the tree line. I scanned the tree line, unable to tell exactly where the sound had originated, but I could hear what sounded like footsteps, and they were growing louder. My hands were shaking and I could feel the blood pumping harder with each passing moment. I was trying to keep my breath steady and I could feel sweat beginning to bead up on my forehead. As I finally pulled my keys out, I heard the sound again but this time there was no confusion as to the source. The sound was coming from just beyond my Volvo, only a few yards in front of me. I stared into the tree line and heard a loud, phlegm filled cackle. Having been startled, my nervous hands lost their grip and dropped my keys. I bent down quickly and searched for them as I now heard the sound of something exiting the tree line.

Nerves made 3 seconds feel more like 3 hours and the sprint from behind my car to the door seem like a marathon. My heart was in my throat and I felt like I could hardly breathe as I unlocked the door. Praying my car old car would start, I jammed the key into the cylinder and turned. Nothing. Looking back I know how typical it all sounds; A young lady fearing for her life gets stuck in a car that won’t start up. But in the moment all I could do was slam my fist into the steering wheel, my eyes welling up with tears. Again and again I turned the key, growing more hysterical with each attempt. I could have tried it 100 times in all, but once I finally heard the engine turn over I almost wished it hadn’t. As my lights came on, they shone on the image of a hooded man. He had what looked to be a hammer or an axe in his hand. I could feel the screams already forming in my throat as he began approaching the car. His strides were long and calculated. His form, now free of the flood of light from my car, was a tall silhouette. The screams made their way out of my throat as he began banging on the glass and flashes of light blinded me as I tried to push my body away from the window.

I screamed until I was sure I would pass out. “The locks! Kim lock the God damn-“ I thought to myself, just as the door swung open. A gloved hand reached inside and grabbed at my wrist, squeezing hard enough for me to hear the leather creaking. My lungs could hardly take in air quickly enough and as I grew lightheaded, my scream grew weaker, dying down in volume. This meant it was just quiet enough for me to hear a familiar sound. Laughter. But this wasn’t the cackle I’d heard earlier. It was a very familiar laugh in fact. I was still seeing stars from the flashes of light, but I could hear just fine, if not better than normal due to my heightened awareness in the moment. “Happy Anniversary babe!” shouted my husband. Scott was laughing and holding back tears, unlike myself who was letting the tears flow freely at this point. My entire body felt locked up and tense in a strange combination of fear, confusion and anger. “I wish you could have seen your face! Wait, you can, but you’ll just have to wait for the Polaroids to develop!” He stopped to catch his breath, and then continued. “Kim that was so much better than I’d even imagined it would be. How did you not recognize me when the lights came on?”, he said through loud chortles.

I had been so wrapped up in the case I was assisting on that I’d completely forgotten our 2 year wedding anniversary. Through my tears I finally managed to put together a somewhat coherent string of words. “Scott how the hell?... The lights!... How long where you in the trees Scott?” This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for. He was so excited to give me the details of his plan that he stood with his feet shoulder width apart, knees bent and hands out in front of him as though he was going to pitch one of his movie ideas to a studio executive. “Okay so once you called me to say you’d be late, I figured we wouldn’t be going out to dinner. I thought I’d drive to the florist and come down to surprise you instead. I wound up parking in the client parking just in front of the building, so as I walked back to your car, I noticed the lights by the tree line and the gravel. I started trying to shoot out the closest lights with a couple of stones and then I just waited behind the trees. I couldn’t have been out here for more than… 20 minutes? I’m not sure, it may have been closer to 45 minutes but it was worth it in the end. Oh! The Polaroids are developed! Here! Take a look!”

My husband Scott was a jerk. Don’t get me wrong, I love him, but being my husband, he knew just how to get under my skin. Scott worked in special effects and had worked on a number of horror movies, as if that were a surprise. He and his brothers were raised on Romero, Carpenter, and King, whereas I was raised on Disney movies. He’d tried to get me to watch some movies with him when we’d first started dating and seeing how I reacted to each scare with an ear piercing scream, he quickly realized he could make a game out of this. It really did bring him great pleasure to see me frightened, no matter how mad I’d get at him afterwards.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t tell that these tricks didn’t amuse me, he simply didn’t care. On one occasion, he’d placed a fake head in the pantry. The material this severed head was wrapped in looked just like human skin and the blood that oozed out of the mouth sent me stumbling backwards into the wine rack. Having also spilled my coffee all over the floor, a laughing Scott cleaned up, made me pancakes and began brewing another cup of coffee. Scott would put effort into apologizing to me after each of these pranks, but he eventually grew to learn it was better keeping his distance afterwards, unless he wanted to resemble the prop head in the pantry. As mad as I could get, the apologies were simple, but appreciated. The downside was that Scott felt he could get away with this behavior, leading to worse pranks as time went on. If he’d hide in the laundry room with a creepy mask on, he’d cook me salmon for dinner. On one occasion he’d sent me a video of a puppy, along with a caption that read “Did you hear the cute little noise it made at the end? Turn the sound up!” 15 Seconds into the video, the face of a demon popped onto the screen and let out a scream nearly as loud as my own. That earned him a night on the couch, but I ended up with a brand new purse.

People say that you shouldn’t accept behavior simply because you’ve grown accustomed to it. Over time though, Scott’s behavior began to wear me down, and it was showing. I was tired of this routine, so I decided it was time to have some fun of my own. We were now nearing the end of September and going into Scott’s favorite time of year: The Halloween Season. Fox Hills was a small town, so the costume shops were already opening up. I bought some glow in the dark fangs, a white wig to cover up my big brown curls, and some prop intestines to cover with some of Scott’s homemade prop blood. I’d left everything wrapped in a white dress and stuck it under our bed. I had a leg up on Scott since every now and then I would be long gone by the time he’d wake up for work. Slowly shimmying my way out of bed, I grabbed my “Scare Kit” and crept into the garage. I made sure to unscrew the lightbulb that hung just over Scott’s pickup to help give me just enough cover, then, once my costume was on and I was sufficiently covered in fake blood, I climbed into the bed of his truck. When I finally heard Scott making his way down the hall and into the garage, I tried to be as quiet as possible. I knew that if I gave myself away, there would be no way of me getting a second chance at this.

The light switch flicked on and off 2 or 3 times and I could hear Scott’s confusion manifesting itself in the pauses between each try. With a frustrated huff, he made his way over to the old Ford. As the doors unlocked with a loud KA-THUNK, I loaded my mouth up with fake blood. The stuff tasted horrible and I grimaced as I accidentally swallowed some. The old Ford’s engine turned over and that was my cue. I slammed my hands against the glass just behind Scott’s head and let out a scream worthy of a banshee as I spewed the fake blood from my mouth. The look on his face as he saw me in his rear-view mirror was exactly what I’d dreamt of. He let out a scream I didn’t even think he was capable of and punched the horn of his pickup so hard I was surprised the airbags didn’t deploy. I’m sure I lost some of my hearing in that moment but once the horn finally died off, I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically!

I’d done it! I’d gotten him back for all those times he’d nearly made me wet myself! Once Scott realized what was going on, he couldn’t help but join in my laughter, as nervous as his sounded in comparison. “Kim I could kill you right now!” he screamed. “What goes around comes around.” I said, waving the fake intestines at him. He stepped out of the cab and grabbed my face in his hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of you babe. Despite the heart attack I’m in the middle of, I have to admit, you did good.” My cheeks were nearly numb from how hard I was smiling when I saw a look come across Scott’s face. My smile quickly began to fade as I realized just what that look meant. “You do know this means war right?” said my husband. “With Halloween just around the corner, who knows when I could enact my revenge.” Scott’s evil grin curled up at the edges, but softened a bit when he saw the dread on my face. What had I opened myself up to? How could he possibly do any worse than what I’ve been through in the past? Seeing I was already worried, he kissed my forehead and wished me a good day as I climbed out of the truck and headed back in the house for a shower.

Surprisingly, the next few nights went by without incident. Scott was being extra sweet which only made me grow more and more paranoid. The days turned to weeks and I got more uneasy as the time passed. One night I’d come home to boxes of chocolate waiting for me and Scott laughed as he saw me check each one for bugs or some other kind of rancid trick. A few nights later he took me to the movies and when his truck suddenly broke down on him on a long dark stretch of road, it took him nearly an hour to convince me that his brother’s weren’t going to pop out of the trees with chainsaws. After that night I realized that Scott had switched up his tactics this time and was getting a kick out of seeing just how paranoid and on edge I was, so I decided to let it go and just relax.

It was Halloween night and my phone rang as I was sitting home alone on the couch.

“Hey babe, I’m sorry I’m calling you so last minute but I’m going to be stuck here on set a little later than I’d anticipated.” said Scott, his voice sounding genuinely disappointed.

“That’s fine. I get it. The food will be in the fridge so feel free to make yourself a plate whenever you get in.” I was disappointed of course, but this wasn’t the first call like this I’d gotten during our marriage. “What do you want me to do with the bottle of wine you bought for tonight though?” I asked.

“Enjoy it. I don’t know when I’ll be home so take it as a sign of my most sincere apologies. I love you Kimmy.”

“I love you, too. Just try not to wake me when you get home. Bye.” I hung up, disappointed to have movie night ruined but not disappointed enough to keep me from opening the bottle of wine. I decided I’d catch up on a few shows I had lingering on my DVR, and let all the stress from my latest case wash away with the night. Now truth be told, I wasn’t really much of a drinker. In fact, I only ever drank if Scott and I were heading out to dinner. Well into the night, I was on my third glass of Merlot and began feeling a little buzzed and more than a little tired. I’d figured I’d hop into the shower to complete my night of relaxation and then head straight to bed.

Pulling the shower curtain aside, I let the water run for a couple minutes. A nice hot shower always helped me to relax for bed and the last few drops of wine certainly helped. In our shower was a beautifully framed window made out of thick frosted glass. I always loved the way it looked on nights like this, the moonlight adding an otherworldly glow to it. Not wanting to fill the bathroom with steam, my showers were usually on the warmer side, I cracked the window open an inch or two at the top. I undressed and stepped into the tub, sure to let my feet settle as I was feeling somewhat off balance from the wine. I began to shampoo my hair and laughed to myself a bit as I closed my eyes. I had a habit of shutting them as tight as I could to avoid blinding myself, but I would often speed through working the shampoo in and rinsing it out so I could open them back up as quickly as possible. This only got worse after I’d watched “Pyscho” with Scott for the first time. It had obviously left an impression on me.

I could feel a cool breeze making its way in through the top of the window, only to be stopped dead in its tracks by the steam. The blue moonlight was shining through the window and my eyes, blurred by the running water and wine of the evening, were taking in its beauty. I continued washing off, my dark skin glowing and taking on the look of polished obsidian as the moon shone through the frosted glass. Then, ever so subtly, I noticed the light wasn’t shining through as brilliantly as it had just moments before. “It’s only a passing cloud Kim. No need to start getting yourself all spooked,” I reassured myself. “Just a big passing, autumn cloud.” But there hadn’t been any clouds in the sky just a moment ago, had there? “Just a cloud Kim. Nothing but a cloud.” I said to myself, feeling more confident this time. I smirked at the thought of myself getting all spooked over nothing.

It was the sound of rustling leaves that shattered my confidence. Rustling leaves and the sound of footsteps approaching my window. A cloud couldn’t make that sound, now could it? Hesitantly, I began to turn my head towards the frosted glass window. My head was moving so slowly, I was sure I could hear my neck creaking like an old wooden door. When my eyes finally fell upon the window, I could make out the outline of a tall man. His lanky figure was accentuated by the backlighting of the moon. He stood there like a statue, cold and stoic, with fewer than 10 feet between us. I heard the rustling again and tried to steady myself as, through my opaque shield, I could see him closing the gap between us. As statue-esque as he’d been just moments before, his strides were long and graceful now. He moved with ease and, though I could hear the crunching of leaves as he approached, he seemed to be floating.

I felt myself wanting to back away but my body simply wouldn’t let me. “Don’t move a muscle Kim. He might ignore you if you can only manage to stay still.” I said this to myself as if I wasn’t already aware that he could see me thought the frosted glass, if only in distorted shapes. The figure had made it to within a few feet of my window now and I could see it examining me through the glass, it’s head tilting in childlike curiosity. Now I was the one as still as a statue, frozen in fear. With every ounce of will I could muster, I managed to reach behind me and move the shower curtain aside. Though I was sure no man as tall as he was could make his way through the 2 inch opening at the top of the window, I would lock the door to the bathroom from the outside, just to be sure. With the curtain out of the way, the lights from the bathroom were now illuminating his features. Though distorted through the glass, I could make out stringy hair framing his face. I could hear a popping and cracking sound as its willowy chin moved from one side to another, as though adjusting its jaw. His head was tilting back and forth now and I was positive he had a better view of me that I of him. I grimaced and covered myself up.

Then I noticed the large dark circles around his eyes. My God it looked as though he hadn’t slept in ages. The man seemed to be so tired the dark circles around his eyes drooped down onto his cheeks. Could this be some bum wandering through back yards, hoping to steal some food from an unlocked house? Or could he be looking for more than just a meal? God his eyes… his eyes seemed wrong. How I wished I could just run out of here but his eyes had cemented me in place. The dark bags around them seemed to grow bigger, taking up half his face. They just seemed wrong, unnatural. Oh God. Those were his eyes. Just as his eyes had grown to cover his face, I saw the dark circles disappear as he blinked, the pale face becoming featureless only for the great big circles to reappear again and stare at me. Over the sound of the shower, the water still beating down on the porcelain, I could hear the horrible sound of him breathing. He sounded sickly, his breath shaking as he inhaled. His exhale sounded just as labored, the air whistling as it exited his lungs. I finally managed to take a few steps out of the tub when I let out a deafening scream.

I’d been startled when the figure slammed his hands against my window. “Go away!”, I screamed, this time my voice not just in my head. “Go away! My husband will be home any minute!” I was lying. “He’ll be home any minute and he carries a shotgun with him in his truck!” Another lie. I just wanted to scare him off, to get him to back away and run back into the woods or wherever it was he’d come from. I was crouched down on the floor now, hiding behind the tub. As I reached in to turn the water off, I glanced up at the hand that had slammed against the window. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I saw a hand nearly the size of my head pressed firmly against the window. A pale shriveled palm adorned with 3 long slim fingers was groping at the glass, almost as though it was trying to grab at it. Almost as though it was trying to grab at me! What the hell was this thing? Where had it come from? I could see what looked like a mouth on the end of each finger. Each one was opening and closing as you’d imagine a leeches mouth to do when it grabs hold of your skin. “I swear to God my husband will kill you when he gets home! Leave me alone! Just leave, Please!” My voice was becoming horse from screaming. I was still crouched on the floor of the bathroom when it now pressed its face against the glass, the big black eyes staring in and blinking, its jaw moving from side to side.

With nothing between its sickly skin and the glass, I could make out the nightmarish features even clearer now. One feature in particular made me wish I could somehow tear my eyes away. As it adjusted its jaw from side to side, I could see what look like lips folding back. Snarling. They revealed a set of teeth who’s size was only rivaled by those big black eyes. A regular set of teeth this size would have been disturbing, but this thing had a mouth as inhuman as its hands. It had rows of teeth, overlapping one another. But they weren’t sharp, not like a sharks teeth. They looked almost human, though this thing was far from it. They were big and yellowed, flat at the bottom which made them look more like cleavers than serrated knives. The further it’s lips drew back, the more rows were exposed, and just then it began making an awful sound. It was like a tree full of cicadas. The teeth began to chitter, crashing into one another violently enough to be heard. Every now and then it would take a sickly breath in and start chittering its teeth together again, sometimes they’d even click against the glass. All at once, it stopped. It was motionless. It took another deep breath and its attention seemed to be drawn upwards above its head. It looked at the opening at the top of the window and its hand, with its long leech like fingers, began making it’s way through.

It’s fingers were wrapped in a thin, slimy skin. It was thin enough to make out purple and red veins running the length of its appendage. The leach like mouths at the tip of its fingers opened and closed as though begging for food. Each one was lined with needle like teeth, much different from the ones in it’s mouth. There was a sickly yellow puss oozing from each fingertip and a foul stench beginning to fill the room, something like a corpse left to decay in a hot room. I gagged as the smell grew fiercer. The chittering started up again and I could hear the beast’s sickly breathing, but there was a different tone to it this time. It was more like the sound of a rabid dog who got a hold of a scent it was quite enjoying. The breathing was accompanied by a slurping sound, like it was trying to keep from drooling all over itself.

I don’t know if it was the fear finally mounting and pushing me or if it was the smell making me nauseous enough I could feel myself swallowing vomit back down my throat, but I jumped to my feet and slammed the window shut, managing to just miss the leach like fingers reaching for me. The beast let out an unnatural shriek, a strange combination of a howl and the shrill cry of a banshee as if coming from two different creatures. Its hand flailed around in pain while I backed up, the figure still howling from behind the window. I began backing up, not even bothering to grab a towel, I had far more to worry about. As my hand grasped the doorknob, the figure began to bash its face against the window. It battered the window again and again, cracks forming in the thick frosted glass. Should this thing break into my home, would anyone come to help me? With the beast shrieking like a wild animal caught in a trap, someone had to have heard it, right?

I turned to run and heard a crash of shattering glass behind me. As I ran through the hall leading to my bedroom, I could hear glass crunching under its feet. The chittering started again, the sick, ragged breathing, the slurping noise. My wet feet fought for grip against the cold hard tiles, slapping with each step. I made it to my room, slammed the door behind me and hid between my wall and bed. I could hear heavy footsteps approaching, the ragged breathing and cicada’s chittering. I grabbed my pillow from the bed as I sat against the wall, my heart beating in my ears. It was all I could hear. The silence was all I could hear. With my face buried in my pillow, I realized I could no longer hear the breathing, or the footsteps. Was it right outside, simply toying with me or had it gone? Would it try to sneak in through the windows which sit just above my head? As I turned to look out the window, I was half expecting to see that face staring back at me, clearer this time.

The sound of the rattling door knob shot through the dark and silent room like a shot gun blast. It wasn’t about to let me leave this room. I screamed, hands and face digging deeper into the pillow. The figure threw its body against the door, each thud ringing louder than the last. I could feel my tears and spit soaking into the pillow case, but I couldn’t tear my face out of it. In that moment, it was like a shield to me, and I wasn’t letting go but my heart stopped within the next second. Two cold hands grabbed at me, digging into my shoulders. They shook me violently back and forth, and through my screams, I could hear a familiar voice.

“Kim! Kim relax! Kim, God damn it, what the hell is wrong with you?” It was trying to fool me! I refused to open my eyes.

“Kim, please, calm down. You need to stop screaming. What happened to the window?” It couldn’t be Scott, It couldn’t be! But as the hands brought me closer to the voice, I could finally make out my husband’s face through my waterlogged eyes. That thing couldn’t have been Scott- the body, the hands – they didn’t match up. It hadn’t been him. But how could I attempt to explain anything to him… How could I explain it to myself?

Attempting to gather my thoughts, I felt the words get lodged in my throat. The look in Scott’s eyes told me it hadn’t been him and he wasn’t just playing dumb. No level of special effects prowess could bring that nightmare to life.

“Scott… there was… I was in the shower… It was through the window… The sound was…”

I looked up. I was frozen in place. The chittering, that disgusting chorus of bugs filled the room. My eyes locked on Scott’s, I could just make out a figure crawling on the ceiling above him. With a beastly shriek, the figure dropped down. My head slammed into the wall behind me and my vision grew blurry. Scott’s screams were the last thing I heard before everything went black.

November 3rd , Fox Hills, NY-

A Fox Hills woman is being questioned by authorities in the suspected butchering of her husband on Halloween night. Kimberly Allen, 28, was found naked and laying in a pool of her husband Scott Allen’s blood. Mr. Allen, 30, was found dismembered from what looked to be repeated blows from a cleaver, which is yet to be recovered. Mrs. Allen was found unconscious from what is suspected to be a self-inflicted blow to the head, a blow authorities suspect she carried out to help support her story of an intruder. First responders made it to the scene after a concerned neighbor called in what they suspected to be a domestic dispute. The caller, who wishes to remain anonymous, say they called the Fox Hill’s Sherrif’s Department after hearing Mrs. Allen’s screams and what sounded like shattering glass. They did say Scott could be heard yelling shortly after, but exactly what was said is unclear. Mrs. Allen is sticking to her claim that there was no such dispute and Mr. Allen was attacked by an intruder, the true culprit of the attacks on her and her husband, and has in fact asked for higher security outside of her cell. No foreign finger or foot prints have been found at the scene and no other arrests have been made.

They’ve moved me to the Fox Hills Psychiatric Center. As I sit here now, crying through interrogation after interrogation, all I can do is wonder why. Why didn’t it take me? Was it the sirens? Did the first responders scare it off somehow? I don’t know if anyone will ever believe me. Despite his jokes and cruel pranks, my Scott was a good man. The figure though, that otherworldly abomination, is still out there and I would be foolish to think it won’t find me again somehow. I got lucky that night, as sick as that sounds, but next time, that may not be the case. Next time there may not be sirens or concerned neighbors to scare it off. Thankfully, the authorities have taken my one request seriously. Just this morning, they added another guard outside the door of my room, and two guards just outside the frosted glass window that sits above my bed.

#creepypasta #scary stories #creepy #scary #spooky #spooky stories #horror story #horror film #horror #short story #writers of tumblr #original writing #writeblr #writerblr #moonlight madness #moonlight madness writes

3 notes · View notes

bluerighthand · 5 years

Text

Growing Up A Shelby - Chapter 6: 1904, part 1

Summary: The Shelby’s have got a wedding to go to. Jane’s stressed, Arthur’s angry, Tommy can’t find any smart clothes and Pol just wants to get married in peace.

Notes: Hello! I’m not dead - I’ve just been 1) travelling, and 2) hiding in a deep pit of writing despair. Big hugs to the brilliant @weeo who gave me a massive boost of encouragement today <3 Also: just to make my chapter titles even more number-y and confusing, 1904 is split into two parts. This is part 1! Please prod me until I post part 2 - I need prodding

Words: 4,809

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15542805/chapters/44376328

(read Chapter One here)

Warnings: child abuse, blood, small mentions of homophobia

Turning over, Tommy groaned at the light streaming in through the window, throwing an arm sleepily across his eyes. He vaguely wondered why the curtains were open; Arthur never bothered with such things, but the thought drifted to the back of his mind, inevitably replaced by Freddie. Most thoughts were these days. They’d gone riding last night, racing up the hills of the pasture before returning to the river, splashing gleefully and dunking each other under the water to the sounds of complaining neighbours and faint police whistles. Tommy only regretted not being able to stay out later, having to creep home around midnight to be back in time for- oh shit.

Realisation hit, and Tommy’s eyes flew open. He was out of bed in an instant, glancing around the room in a panic. Arthur’s bed was empty. Had they left without him? Why didn’t anybody wake him? Head throbbing from standing up too quickly, Tommy rushed to the door, pulling it open and sagging in relief as voices drifted down the hallway.

Grabbing some socks as he went, Tommy found his siblings gathered by the stairs, all chattering excitedly.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked accusingly, taking in Arthur’s smart, albeit moth-eaten suit, and combed hair. John was matching, though his shirt buttons were all done up wrong, and Ada was swishing the skirt of her purple bridesmaids dress. They fell silent as he spoke, his tone jarring the mood.

“We thought you were already awake” shrugged John, Ada nodding in agreement.

“Arthur?” said Tommy, his younger siblings taking the chance to escape his accusatory tone and hurrying down the stairs. Arthur hovered behind.

“You’re always telling me you don’t want my help” he said, slightly confused. The expression cleared from his face quickly, and he huffed an irritated sigh. “Just get ready”.

“Arthur-” Tommy started, but fell quiet as his brother ignored him, descending the stairs. Fine.

Tearing back to his room, Tommy ran a hand through his hair. Unlike the others, he hadn’t had the foresight to lay out his suit the night before. Or, more accurately, he’d missed his mother’s lecture about doing so. It became clear rather quickly that his smart clothes had either ceased to exist, or had been stuffed up in some draw to give to John. He went to his brother’s room, pulling open the dresser and rooting around for a suit. He found some grey trousers that looked like they might fit him, and a musty old jacket curled into a ball at the back of the drawer. Sneezing at the smell, Tommy flapped the offending garment about for a moment, trying to bring some life to it, but soon slumped in defeat. He couldn’t imagine the lecture he’d get from Polly if he wore that crumpled old thing to her wedding.

Pulling the trousers on, he peered down, relieved but slightly annoyed that they still fit him. Would he ever grow? Pol had promised him a growth spurt three years ago, and it was yet to arrive in any real force. Heading back into the hall, Tommy felt a sudden pang of sadness as he passed his aunt’s empty room, dark and vacant without the familiar furniture. The boxes had all been packed up in the past few days, shipped off to her and Eddie’s new house on the other side of town. Polly insisted it wouldn’t change a thing, that she’d be round all the time to see them, cook them dinner and read John and Ada a story, but Tommy wasn’t so sure. She was already spending less and less time there, and he saw the looks his new uncle gave her when she insisted on staying late.

Remembering his own lateness, he hurried downstairs in his night shirt and John’s trousers, the jacket trailing behind him. Ada was experimenting with their mother’s lipstick, laughing at the sight of her bright pink messy face in the mirror. Arthur scooped her off the stool she was balancing on, attempting to clean up her efforts as John fiddled with his shirt buttons, trying to align them correctly.

“Arthur, have you wrapped the present?” Jane called from the kitchen.

“John already did it” Arthur shouted back, grimacing at the shoddily wrapped package on the table. Tommy edged past them into the kitchen, avoiding Ada’s reaching pink hands.

Jane was slicing bread at the counter, and despite all the rush Tommy couldn’t stop himself from staring open mouthed at his mother. She was wearing a long navy dress, with little white flowers on the sleeves and her dark hair tied into a braid over her shoulder. The dab of blusher on her cheeks made her look healthier than Tommy had seen her in months, and he broke into a smile.

“Mama?”.

“Yes sweetheart?” she said distractedly, not looking up. He went closer, leaning in for a hug. The day was already so hectic Tommy couldn’t imagine what the actual wedding would be like. He just needed a moment. Jane stopped slicing, dropping the knife with a loud clatter as she looked at Tommy in horror.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” she cried. Tommy faltered, arms hanging awkwardly in front of him as his mother held him at arm’s length.

“I- ”.

“We have to leave in five minutes, what have you been doing all morning?”.

“Arthur didn’t wake me up” he protested, voice small. Arthur’s head appeared around the kitchen door.

“I did”.

“Liar” muttered Tommy. “You wanted me to be late”.

“What the fuck does that mean?”.

“Arthur” said Jane sharply. “Watch your language. Thomas, you’re fourteen now. If John and Ada managed to get dressed and ready on time there’s no excuses for you. You know what an important day it is, I need to be on my feet for hours. I expected you to be more helpful”. Tommy looked at the floor, ashamed. He hadn’t meant to let his mother down, or stay out so late the night before. But with the stupid beautiful summer night and stupid beautiful Freddie, time had run away with him. “What are you still doing here? Upstairs now”.

Tommy shoved past Arthur on his way out of the kitchen, their shoulder’s knocking together painfully. Following Tommy down the hall, Arthur gave him a hard push, Tommy barely catching himself on the bannisters and rounding on his brother.

“Why did you say you woke me up?” he demanded.

“I’m not getting into trouble because you stay out all hours of the night with him”. Tommy’s face became stony, and Arthur shook his head in disbelief. “I knew it. I’ve told you to stay away from him Tommy”. He hadn’t been sure then, not for certain, but Tommy’s expression had confirmed it. Anger ripped through him.

“It’s none of your fucking business what I-”

“That’s a bad word” Ada announced. She was peeking through the bannisters, watching the argument below. “Who was Tommy with?”.

“No one” said Arthur, harsher than he’d intended. Ada raised an eyebrow, a perfect miniature of her aunt, before deciding that John poking at the table with his pocket knife was more exciting than her brothers’ disagreement.

“John! Ada!” Jane called, emerging from the kitchen with the bread all sliced and buttered. “Come on, we’ve got to go-”. She stopped at the sight of her second son, still half-dressed and messy haired. “Tommy we don’t have time for this” she said, voice rising slightly in panic. “We can’t be late. Ada’s the bridesmaid for God’s sake”.

“It’s okay mum” said Arthur, taking the bread. Her hands were clammy and cold, too cold for a summer’s day. She pulled them away quickly.

“I’m going to see if your uncle’s arrived. Arthur, just help your brother will you? Fetch him a jacket or something. Honestly”.

“Go and get dressed” he hissed instead, shoving Tommy towards the stairs.

“But I can’t find any bloody clothes. Can you get me a jacket?”.

“You’re so helpless” said Arthur suddenly, the loud outburst taking both him and Tommy by surprise. “I try and help you with stuff, you know, the big things”. Tommy whipped around, relieved to find the hallway was still deserted. “-And you don’t want to hear it. I try and protect you out there” he gestured, pointing to the window and the city beyond. “And you always find ways to cause trouble. Always in the one place you shouldn’t be. I try and help with you and dad” said Arthur, almost shouting now, “and you continue to pick fights with him. You’ve told me you can handle all of that on your own. But you can’t get your own bloody jacket. And guess who’s in trouble for that, ey? Me”.

Arthur’s voice died away, an uncomfortable silence replacing it. Tommy didn’t speak, just stared. Arthur swallowed, hands twitching at his sides before he stormed through the open front door.

“No sign yet”, their mother was saying.

“Mum, Arthur won’t-” Tommy started.

“Tommy, I don’t want to hear it. Just put something on. I told you I need my strength, I can’t be going up and down the house to look for your clothes”. Another wave of guilt. Tommy fought the urge to cry as he was sent back up the stairs. It took him by surprise slightly; he wasn’t usually the first one in tears, but everyone seemed to be against him that morning. Arthur was angry with him, he’d upset his mother, Pol was moving out. Still, he supposed, it couldn’t get much worse.

“When are we leaving?” groaned Ada, swinging her legs on the sofa. Jane, who couldn’t sit still, paced in front of the door, checking the ancient cracked clock on the mantelpiece.

“We should have left already” she sighed, trying not to panic. “Uncle Charlie’s going to pick us up in the cart, but God knows where he’s got to. John Shelby don’t even think about it”. John pouted, but snapped his pocket knife back into its holder, another leg of the table remaining unharmed for the time being. “And no, you’re not taking that to the wedding, give it to me”.

“Why’s he late?” said Ada.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll be here soon”. She wasn’t sure at all. Though she’d tried so hard to make the day perfect for her sister-in-law, it was all falling apart around her. Her hands were stayed from worrying at her dress by the familiar trundle of her brother’s cart down the lane. At that moment she could have sobbed in relief, and there was a general rise in spirits as the Shelby’s rushed for the door.

“Where in God’s name have you been?!” Jane asked as Charlie pulled the cart up outside the house.

“I thought it was tomorrow” he huffed, hurrying to lift Ada up onto the back. “And then the invitation was right there on the table-”

“Tomorrow? Who has a wedding on a Monday you-”

“Yes okay, I know, I know” said Charlie, raising his hands in defence. “But I’m here now, and we’ve got plenty of time!”. Jane gave him a deadpan look. “Some time”, he amended sheepishly.

“Come on, quick quick” she called, gripping hold of the wooden posts.

“Careful mum” said Arthur, wincing as she struggled up onto the cart. She collapsed onto the bench gratefully, joints throbbing and knuckles white where she gripped her son’s hand. Charlie paused.

“Are you okay? Is it your hip again? Or your-”.

“It’s fine Charlie, just go. Quickly”.

“Go, go go!” cried John. It was always fun to ride in the cart, especially in the summer, the warm breeze dancing through their hair as the horse cantered down the lane. Jane allowed herself to relax slightly as they rounded the corner, looping an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and admiring how grown up and handsome her two boys were looking in their smartest suits. Hang on a second-

“Stop, stop!” she cried. “Where’s Tommy?”. Arthur spun around.

“I thought he was-”

“Turn around!” Jane called, Charlie pulling the cart to a stop.

“Are we going to be late?” said Ada fearfully.

“No” Charlie insisted, craning his neck as if his missing nephew would appear at a different angle.

“He was right behind me” said Arthur, mystified. He must have stayed in the house. Bloody hell.

“Aunt Pol’s going to go mad” said John.

“Yes, that’s not particularly helpful darling” said Jane, hastily moving down to the end of the cart. Too hastily.

“Mum, don’t-” started Arthur, reaching out, but she was already dropping down onto the ground below.

Panting, Tommy appeared around the corner. His stomach dropped as he saw his mother pushing herself up from the ground, crying out as she took a step. Charlie was there in an instant, grimacing before lifting her as best he could back onto the cart. The children watched mournfully as she cradled her ankle, their perfect day crashing around their ears.

“On you get, son” said Charlie gruffly, patting the wood. Tommy clambered on reluctantly, clipping the side in place but making no move to shuffle closer to the rest of his family. Met with several accusing stares he shifted in his seat, attempting to tug down the sleeves on his ill-fitting jacket. Forced to use the musty old thing found in John’s room, Tommy resigned himself for a day of tutting and probably a smack round the head when Polly saw what state he was in.

“Are you okay mum?” asked Arthur. Jane straightened up as best she could, smiling to cover the rush of nausea.

“I’m fine Artie. Just a little bruise”.

“Do we need to go to the hospital?” asked Ada.

“No” said Jane, before Charlie could have a say in the matter. “We’re going to go to this damn wedding, and we’re going to give your aunt the best day she’s ever had”.

Through some miracle or another, they made just in time. Polly had chosen a grass clearing in the country for the wedding, near Eddie’s family home. Decorated with bunting hanging between wagons, it made for a beautiful setting in the warm morning light.

With the exception of Ada, the Shelby’s gathered at the front of the crowd, Charlie and Arthur supporting Jane between them. There was a throbbing in her ankle; sharp and insistent, and her knee joints were also protesting at all the movement, but despite this she was determined to see the day through. She couldn’t ruin it for Polly. Leaning on Arthur’s arm, she felt a sudden surge of pride at how strong he was, how much he’d grown in the past few years. He was seventeen now, almost a man.

“Look at you” she said, managing to straighten his lapels one handed. “So handsome”.

“Mum” Arthur groaned, but was unable to help a smile.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” whispered Charlie. “You don’t need a doctor?”. The blusher on her cheeks masked how pale she’d become, but Charlie knew his sister well.

“I’m fine” she insisted. “Just…maybe fetch me a chair”. John ran off to complete this task, and Tommy busied himself by poking at the grass with his foot. He knew it was his fault his mother was injured. Everything seemed to be his fault today. But apologising in front of Arthur? He had to speak to his mum alone, she’d understand then, that he hadn’t meant it. Whatever the intent however, the action was still the same.

Taking her brother’s hand, Polly stepped out of the cart onto the grass below with a smile, arranging her dress around her, heart warming as she saw the painted wagons and wildflowers in the field. Arthur Snr nodded to the driver, who trundled off back down the lane with a coin in his pocket. They had a while, twenty minutes or so, to appreciate the view, waiting for the rest of the guests to arrive. Polly watched the small figures in the valley below, and wondered which was Eddie. Her brother cleared his throat.

“Give us a spin then” he said. Polly was half expecting him to make some comment, some jibe, but so far none had come. She knew he didn’t entirely approve of the marriage - mainly because they hadn’t asked for his permission, but Jane had managed to talk him round. Soften him into acceptance, if not approval. After all, a steady job and a loving family to marry into was more stability than he’d ever had. Polly obliged his request, though couldn’t pretend she wasn’t enjoying herself as she spun around, dress fanning out. It had been their mother’s; high collared and lacy, hugging at the waist and trailing all the way down to her feet. A veil flowed behind her, clipping into her ornate bun and framing her face beautifully. Red lipstick completed the look, and she wore a bracelet of Jane’s around her wrist where the sleeves ended.

“Quite something you’ve grown up to be, ey?” said Arthur. Polly gave him a small smile, looking back to the valley quickly. Her fingers pressed against the palms of her hands, the big-day nerves she’d been supressing almost bubbling over at the sight of all the tables and chairs, people rushing about below them. “I know you think I wasn’t around much to look after you, Pollyanna”. She raised an eyebrow.

“I think?”. Arthur sighed.

“I might not have been at home, but I’ve always tried to do what’s best for you. Starting a business, sending money back-”.

“Arthur, don’t start” said Polly, grimacing. Despite insisting that she didn’t get nervous, a recap of her brother’s failed business ventures would surely push her over the edge.

“Polly- listen” he said, taking her hands. She swallowed, meeting his gaze. “I know I wasn’t around, but I want you to know that I’m proud of you”. Polly didn’t need the words; she wasn’t ten years old anymore wishing her big brother would come home, and couldn’t quite shake the lingering trepidation that Arthur was tricking her in some way. But she appreciated them nonetheless.

It felt like a goodbye, and Polly beamed as she headed down the hill, dress flowing out behind her as she ran towards her new life.

A dusky purple had spread over the sky, lanterns and candles lighting up the scene as people danced and weaved through the darkened field. No one had much to spare by way of money, but the tables were laden with an ample amount of food, including more cakes and confectionaries than the Shelby children had ever seen outside of a bakery. The music was lively, fiddles striking up a quick tune and people were soon gathering round to dance. In a quieter corner of the field, Polly plopped down beside her sister-in-law, letting out an exhausted laugh and taking in the night sky.

“Happy?” Jane asked. Her legs weren’t paining her as badly as she feared they would, but she thought it better to rest them. Tomorrow would likely be a different story.

“Happy” Polly confirmed. Jane gestured at her husband, who was currently holding two different bottles and trying to tell a complicated story of his own magnificence at the same time.

“I’m sorry about all the-”

“Stop” said Polly, grinning. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for”.

“But you’ve had a good day haven’t you? Was the dress okay? And your hair? You look so beautiful I can hardly take my eyes off you”. Polly laughed, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Jane wasn’t done though. She worried too much, that was her problem. “And you like the decorations? And the music? What about the food? I was so worried about getting here on time I didn’t have time to think about anything else”.

“It’s all perfect, really” said Polly. “Thank you. For everything”. Jane gave her a fond smile, and Polly hugged her close.

“You better go” said Jane. “Ada’s got a stick and she’s heading for her brothers”.

“Oh God” said Polly, pressing a hasty kiss on Jane’s cheek in goodbye. Thankfully, she managed to catch Ada and wrestle the large branch from her niece before she could inflict any stick related injuries. By the time Eddie grabbed her hand and whisked her away to a quiet spot behind a wagon, she’d gotten three lectures in: one about cigarettes, one about their clothing and one about fighting. Tommy seemed to be the main culprit on all three counts, though his sister was a force to be reckoned with; especially when there were sticks involved.

“Eddie, what-” she cried, as the bright lights and crowd fell out of sight.

“I can’t wait any longer” whispered Eddie, grinning as he held her close. “Let’s just say fuck it all and go now”.

“We can’t just disappear” she laughed back, quieting as his mother passed by their hiding place.

“We can if nobody sees us” he countered, leaning in for a kiss. He had a point, thought Polly, wrapping her arms around her husband’s neck. Her husband.

Yeah, she decided. Fuck it all.

“Stop taking my fucking cigarettes” said Arthur, once their aunt had vanished. Tommy scowled at him.

“It wasn’t yours”. In actual fact, it was Arthur’s; he was the easiest to steal from, but he didn’t need to know that. Deciding he’d rather skulk around the edge of the reception than talk to anyone, Tommy slipped away from his siblings. He caught a glimpse of two figures in the distance, running up the hill, a veil flying behind one. That was that then. Pol was gone. It was hard not to feel morose and sorry for himself, with all the events of the day. Kicking viciously at another poor clump of grass, Tommy continued along the outskirts of the party, until an arm landed heavily around his shoulders, steering him towards the lights and music.

“Tommy!” his father exclaimed, voice loud and slightly slurred as he gripped his shoulder. “Come over here and have a wrestle with your old dad, ey?”. He smelled strongly of alcohol, and Tommy wrinkled his nose.

“Aunt Pol said no fighting”.

“Polly’s not here” Arthur countered, releasing him but stepping in front of Tommy deliberately when he tried to move to the side. “And you haven’t been down to the ring in a while. Why’s that then? Too busy-” he snorted “-picking fuckin’ daisies or whatever it is you do?”.

Avoiding you, Tommy thought, but said nothing. His mother always said his cleverness (or his smart mouth, as Polly called it) would get him killed. More than anything tonight he just wanted to be left alone. Arthur, clearly growing bored with his son’s lack of response, rolled up his sleeves.

“Come on” he goaded. Tommy watched his fists warily. When he was drunk, his father’s aim was usually off, but he hit harder. What few inhibitions he possessed were all washed away with drink, and he didn’t care who saw the bruises. Nobody would say anything.

Arthur lashed out, missing Tommy’s face by a few inches. Tommy took advantage, turning and sprinting towards the crowd, hoping to be swallowed up before his dad lunged again. He smacked into his brother’s chest, stumbling backwards and landing hard on the ground. Arthur Jnr let out a surprised yelp, and held out a hand to Tommy before recognition hit. Half retracting it, he shook his head.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded.

“Arthur, it was an accident, I didn’t mean-” Tommy’s air was cut off as his father grabbed the back of his collar, wrenching him to his feet.

“You’re a fucking disgrace, you know that?”. Tommy grabbed at his throat, fingers tearing at the fabric choking him. “No son of mine runs away from a fight”. Tommy gritted his teeth. He was one to talk about running away. How many times had he abandoned them? A well placed kick to his father’s shin sent Tommy crashing to the ground again, spitting out a blade of grass as he scrambled backwards, Arthur towering over him.

“Get up. Fight like a man”.

People were stopping to watch now. The dancers were faltering and the violinist missed a few notes, drawing attention to the disturbance. Tommy caught sight of his mother just as his father’s boot came down on his nose, the crunch loud and sickening.

“Pathetic” said Arthur, spitting into Tommy’s hair before turning away. Tommy clutched at his nose, eyes squeezing shut as the shouting started. He could feel the crowd ebbing and flowing around him, but when Tommy opened his eyes again he found the masses had followed his parents a short distance away, screaming at each other on the hillside with Uncle Charlie between them.

One of the tables had been knocked over, old family crockery scattered across the grass. He was glad Polly wasn’t here to see it. Reaching up, Tommy almost gagged in revulsion as his fingers slid through his father’s spit, uselessly attempting to wipe it away. He swivelled to where his older brother had been, but Arthur was gone, leaving Tommy small and alone on the hillside. Hunching over, his blood dripped steadily onto the grass. Pathetic. There was a rustle beside him, and his little brother regarded him warily.

“Tommy?”.

“It’s late John” said Tommy, voice muffled. “You should be at home”.

“Nuh uh. Dad said I could stay”. He smiled proudly, but it faded as he remembered his question.

“Tommy, why didn’t you try?”.

“I did try” said Tommy, pushing himself off the ground and wiping his face, starting off down the slope.

“No you never” cried John, running after him. “Arthur says you do it on purpose”. Tommy stopped.

“Do what on purpose?”.

“Make dad angry. Then he hits you and then-” John frowned, trying to remember. “Then it makes dad look bad, ‘specially when you don’t try. But he’s not bad, not really. That’s what Arthur says”. Tommy pressed a hand to his face again, though it had less to do with stemming the blood and everything to do with the stinging in his eyes.

“Go home, John” he muttered, breaking into a run. Soon the shouting had faded away, but Tommy didn’t want to stop. He kept running, right across the field, and over the fence they’d been told not to go beyond. Instead of grass, Tommy trampled over growing vegetables heart racing when a light flicked on in the farmhouse. Vaulting over the next fence, his shoe caught on a nail. Ripping, the material fell away, lost somewhere to the lettuces below.

Tommy came to a clumsy stop, but a door had creaked open and the farmer was really coming now, so he left it. It was ancient anyway. Wouldn’t last till the winter. He slowed to a walk two fields over, a dark thicket of trees separating him from the dirt track that led to the city. It was hardly a forest, but Tommy supposed he could still get lost in there. It would be nice, that. Disappearing.

Leaning heavily against a trunk, Tommy slid down the rough bark until his knees hit the ground. The tears came easily, after such a long time keeping them at bay. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed at the base of the tree, head in his hands and shoulders wracked with sobs as the city lights flickered off in the distance.

Pathetic.

Something was poking into Tommy’s side, and he eventually shifted, pulling some folded paper from his inside jacket pocket. Opening the crumpled sheet, he found it to be some sort of shipping form. It was hard to read in the dark, but he squinted, making out an address at the bottom. Some place in Camden.

He almost tossed it aside then, let the chilly night breeze carry the meaningless paper across the hillside, but his fingers brushed over something. A hard indent of some letters, pressed through from the other side. Turning the paper over, a pencil scrawl stared back at him.

A. S.

Reaching into his trouser pocket, Tommy pulled out a penny. It wasn’t real of course, Arthur had made some for him a few years ago, out of thin scraps of wood he’d attempted to carve into circles. To pretend. Tommy still liked to fiddle with them, flick them into the air. He’d picked it up that morning, just out of habit, but now it would be useful.

It wasn’t weighted like a proper coin, but it still landed one side or the other. Heads or tails. Should he or shouldn’t he. Tommy’s gaze slid back to the address at the bottom of the page.

He balanced the coin on his thumb, heart thudding in his chest. Could he really do this?

Tommy took a deep breath, before flipping it high into the air.

Thank you for reading! I hope this come-back from the writing despair wasn't too terrible, and that you enjoyed! x

#peaky blinders fanfiction #guas au #everything i write is boring and awful i want to banish myself to some distant cave with no internet access #sorry i'm being dramatic in the tags #i think i've somewhat crawled out of the despair pit #who knows

30 notes · View notes

clive-owen-and-the-knick · 4 years

Text

ENTERTAINMENT

Cocaine Withdrawals and Blood Transfusions: Clive Owen On The Season Finale Of 'The Knick'

By Matthew Jacobs

10/18/2014 12:24 AM ET

Updated Dec 06, 2017

WARNING: Major spoilers ahead. Do not read on if you haven't seen the Season 1 finale of "The Knick."

"The Knick" ended its 10-episode debut season on Friday, and the hope each character found in his or her new beginnings was bookended with a sense of dread. Thackery discovers an unfortunate way to kick his cocaine habit in the form of 1900-era heroin. Barrow bests Bunky Collier, but Mr. Wu learns of his manipulation. Cornelia's wedding day arrives, but she's haunted by the thought of her clandestine abortion and her feelings for Dr. Edwards. And Edwards himself is given the chance to shine while Thack is out of commission, but he's left bloodied in the streets, knowing Cornelia is off vowing to love another man. No character wins, but the show surely does. This was a stunner of a season finale, exemplifying the best of Steven Soderbergh's slow-burning drama. HuffPost Entertainment caught up with star Clive Owen, who plays Thackery, to discuss the finale.

Did you study cocaine withdrawal to decide what that would look like once Thackery's supply runs out?

I did as much research as I could. The great thing is that cocaine shortage again was based on fact. Everything in the show is inspired by real events. The idea of starving Thackery of his drug and then coming back and this more than ever was a brilliant way of climaxing. To go through that period of struggle, of not having the drug and then getting it and taking too much, was always, I felt, a great way to build him toward the end.

Nurse Elkin's role in procuring cocaine is fascinating. Does Thackery really love her, or does he only appreciate when she can do things for him?

I think by that time he’s a desperate addict. When she delivers that and when she finally comes through with the cocaine, he’s like, "She’s the most beautiful, loving person." He’s a desperate addict by this point. Just the fact that she’s delivering what he needs is everything.

We see him compete to advance various surgical procedures, but he does it mostly out of ego so he'll always be considered the best. How much does Thackery actually care about medicine?

I really do think by the ending couple of episodes that he’s completely lost his way. He’s a complete paranoid, competitive mess by the end. He is brilliant, but by this point he’s in a desperate place and he’s not thinking straight. That’s kind of where we’re taking him -- he’s heading for a fall.

Many of the surgery scenes are both graphic and relatively primitive. Is there a doctor on set guiding how they should look?

Yes, we had the most amazing expert, a guy called Dr. Stanley Burns, who runs this archive of literally hundreds of thousands of photographs from this period in the world. The show is like his fantasy come to life. He has an unbelievable wealth of material; he has medical documents that were handed between doctors at the turn of the century, he has instruments that were used at the time. He was there for every single operation and would be able to describe exactly how it would have been done, so we leaned on him tremendously.

That blood-transfusion scene in the finale is wild. Surely some of that is CGI.

Really, I have to say that the prosthetics guy on this thing did an absolutely unbelievable job throughout, and there’s so little CGI in this whole series. Everything is totally convincing, even to the naked eye, including that transfusion scene. That was the one scene where I remember I turned to Steven at one point and said, “How on earth are we ever going to bring back Thackery from this?” Will we ever be able to redeem him from this? I mean, in such a coked-up state, to be attempting something like that with this poor little girl, it’s a wild as it could get. But that’s the make of the show.

Do you think Bertie made the right choice in remaining so loyal to Thackery, especially at the end when he realizes what's been going on?

It’s difficult because Thackery does eventually go off the rails, but there’s no question that, at the beginning when we meet him, Thackery is a genius. He’s learned an incredible lot. That’s the journey of what happens, but there’s no question that Bertie would have learned an awful lot, but he’s also had to withstand an awful lot.

What do you think happened to Abigail and her syphilis nose?

We might not have seen the last of her. I won’t say any more on that.

We've seen shocking surgeries all season, but the most jarring moment probably comes when we see that Eleanor's teeth have been removed because that's how doctors thought they'd cure mental illness.

I agree with you. It is shocking, and what’s shocking is that that was the practice at the time. That was real. They actually really did think that. And the scary thing, when you do a show like this, is that what we’d be doing in 40 or 50 years’ time would make us think, "How on Earth could we have thought that was right?" How on Earth could a doctor really have believed that?

It must be hard to shoot in contemporary downtown New York but make every scene look and feel like it's set in 1900.

Steven has just the most incredible people around him that he’s been working with for a long time. What was really incredible is when you film on one of those outside days, you’d come to the exterior of the hospital and you’d walk on and everything would already be up and running. You’d do a shot in the carriage and it would pull up and you’d get out and 20 minutes later we’d be on to something else. It was so incredibly efficient, and they were so focused in getting those big outside scenes nailed so quickly. There were very challenging days -- we were shooting real New York Chinatown for 1900 Chinatown. We’d find a block in there that we’d dress and shoot, but you can imagine the logistics of trying to pull that off. They went in there and they were just incredibly together.

What's the most fascinating thing you've learned about medicine in 1900?

The thing that you’re kind of left with is just how much they were shooting from the hip. It was a time of change; things were coming big and fast. They were rethinking things on a weekly basis. At the time, doctors were sharing information across America and Europe. It was a wildly exciting time in terms of the breakthroughs they were making, probably this time in this period more than any other period.

You've worked with Robert Altman, Mike Nicholas, Alfonso Cuarón and Spike Lee. What does Steven Soderbergh, the consummate multitasker, bring to "The Knick" that no other director could?

I think the reason no other director could have taken this on and done it the way that he did it is that he has done everything. He directs, he operates, he lights, he edits, and it’s a singular vision. It’s 10 hours of television that completely comes back to one man and a singular vision. To have that is really extraordinary because I don’t know of any of the other directors you mentioned or any director that I’ve worked with who could do that and could hold the whole canal like he approached it at the speed with which he approached it. And he dealt with something so rich and detailed. He’s extraordinary in that way; there is no one like him. For an actor to work with that is a real privilege because he’s so on top of all aspects of what’s going on that you’re kind of left just worrying about your acting, which is a great place to be because you’re so sure. It’s a one-stop gig. You know that it all comes back to him. There’s something kind of great about that, about shooting a scene and there not being that dialogue of, “What if we did this?” or “What if we did that?” No. It goes back to that guy and his vision and his taste and his talent. I’m telling you he’s a hugely, hugely impressive person.

When does Season 2 start filming?

We go into pre-production soon and I think I’m heading out to New York for January.

What do you hope to see in Thackery's future now that he's been exposed to heroin?

He's been so edgy in his story and so visceral and dangerous. What’s great is the idea of being able to go into the next season and it could just pick up and hit the ground running, taking it further and exploring new territories. I’ve got a number of the scripts already and it’s just really exciting where we can take it.

#clive owen #the knick #early 1900s

1 note · View note

jgreenfeld · 5 years

Text

meet the muse;

10 FICTIONAL CHARACTERS

1. Harry Potter

Your obsession with Harry freakin' Potter is a timeless affair. You read the first book tucked into a corner on the a tour bus, musicians fiddling with their instruments all around you, but you were lost to them. You were too busy learning spells, playing Quidditch and fancying yourself Mrs Jessica Potter. Sure, a lot of your friends have outgrown their Harry Potter phase, but you don't think that'll ever happen to you. He was never just a character to you, he was a comfort when you were recovering from your illness and figuring out what life was going to be like without being able to hear things from now on. You lost quite a number of things after the meningitis hit, but you never lost Harry. He taught you how to be brave and true and a little bit sassy, and you're always going to love him.

2. Atticus Finch

Your father is a mechanic, not a lawyer. He wears sports jerseys instead of tweed suits. But he's still the closest thing to Atticus Finch that this world is going to get - in your eyes anyway. Your dad was the first one to introduce you to To Kill A Mockingbird. He panicked and shoved his own copy into your hands after you finished the fifth Harry Potter book and spent three straight hours wailing over Sirius. Of course, TKAM wasn't going to be something that necessarily cheered you up, but you were hooked from the get-go. Atticus taught you how to be just and fair. He taught you to think about what it would be like to walk a mile in someone else's shoes. He taught you valuable life lessons that you still carry today, and even though it would be impossible to hope that everyone in the world could be more like him, you could at lease try to channel all that energy yourself. You like to think that he taught you how to be a better person.

3. Mark Watney

Mark Watney taught you that space is dangerous and terrifying and that it has the potential to be the very death of you. He taught you that it's vast and empty and nothing but a challenge. And it only made you love it even more. When your father picked up on your space obsession, right after your solar system model won first prize at the middle school science fair, he gave you a copy of The Martian. In all honesty, he had no clue what it was about but the name hinted that he was on the right path. You devoured it whole. Or rather... you spent the full night yelling at your book whenever something traumatic happened and Michelle fully attempted to smother you with a literal pillow just to get you to shut up. Mark Watney made you fall in love with space even more, and he kickstarted your desire to work for NASA one day. When you feel like you're never going to make it, you just need to look to him for a kick up the ass.

4. Gilbert Blythe

Gilbert Blythe is the very first love of your life. You understand that there's a high chance you’re not his type, because when he tugs on Anne's pigtails and calls her 'carrots', she hits him over the head with a slate and it's love at first sight for him because of that. If Gilbert Blythe ever tugged on your hair to get your attention, then you probably would have just decided to marry him right then and there. Still, what's not to love about him? He's kind and he's funny and he's smart and he cares about school. Perhaps you would be relationship goals based solely on the fact that you're a nerd and he's a nerd. But you'll never get to test that theory out, which is a shame. In the meantime, Gilbert is setting the standards for all other men and he's raised the bar to a whole other level.

5. Paddington Bear

Paddington Bear is the reason you demanded a duffle coat and red wellies at the age of six. He's the reason you wanted to travel to Darkest Peru whenever a family vacation was brought up. And he's the reason that you still unironically enjoy a marmalade sandwich, even to this day. Plus, he's cuddly and kind and the exact friend you think anyone should have. Honestly, you'd love to be someone's answer to Paddington Bear.

6. Matt Saracen

You're never going to be a football player and, to be quite honest, you never really want to be. You're tiny and any tackle would crush you in an instant. Soccer, on the other hand, is different. And then, of course, there's cheerleading. Matt Saracen was never a cheerleader, although you have total faith in him and believe that he could be anything he wanted to be. He was a football player though, and had always been desperate to be one, despite shortcomings like money and being one of the younger kids on the team. You relate to that. Friday Night Lights taught you all about teamwork. You love being part of a group like that, whether that be the girls soccer team or the cheerleading squad. It's what you miss most about high school, that sense of belonging. You love your family but Michelle likes to make your life a living hell, Brendan can only defend you so much and Gabby has her head in the clouds half the time. Matt taught you that sometimes it's okay to feel way more at home when you're part of a team.

7. Leslie Knope

She likes waffles, she likes fairness and she loves her friends. Leslie Knope is exactly the kind of woman that you want to grow up to be. Maybe you don't have a future in politics, but that's okay! You can still embody her in all the ways that are important. You're a feminist, you would happily arrange a wedding ceremony for two gay penguins and you would absolutely die for Michelle Obama. Leslie Knope is that caring and goofy friend that you want to be, and while you're not as savvy as her or as good with words, and you absolutely do not have her knack for public speaking, you wake up every morning and tell yourself that you're going to be a Pawnee Goddess that day.

8. Clint Barton

You watch the Avengers and you fall in love with superheroes. Your dad seems bolstered by this since he's been trying to get you to read comics for years now, and this eventually persuades you. You discover that you're a die-hard Captain America fan and there are several failed attempts to write a popular Steve/Bucky story when you foray into fanfiction, only to realise you're nowhere near as gifted a writer as you think you are. But you still love this world and these characters and it's like a blanket gets wrapped around you when you find out Clint Barton is actually deaf in the comics. Just like you. You devour Hawkguy, trawl the internet for all the meta discourse and fanfiction you can find and you even dress up as Kate Bishop one Halloween. Clint Barton teaches you that you can have a disability and still be a superhero.

9. Luke Skywalker

There was no way that you were making it through your childhood without discovering Luke. And Leia and Han and Chewie. But Luke was the one that stuck with you most and your dad was very proud of you for that. He's a hero, but not the typical rough-and-tough, 'needs a damsel in distress to save' sort of hero. He teaches you that you can save the galaxy and still be loyal and compassionate and have a good heart. You don't need to be jaded to be a hero, and it's okay to show emotion. And sometimes it's okay to be a little bit of a drama queen as well. You appreciate that last one.

10. Buttercup

The Princess Bride is one of the few movies that you and Michelle actually agree on. Or rather, you like all movies and she hates anything that you like. But even Michelle can't say no to The Princess Bride. Buttercup is a character who undergoes development, giving you hope that maybe one day Michelle will also go through that same growth and decides that she wants you to be her sister. Perhaps it's a pipe dream but you never give up hope. Buttercup also teaches you that you can fall hard and fast for someone who says 'as you wish' to your every command and like, you get that. You're pretty sure that you'd die on the spot should anyone say that to you.

9 TWEETS

@jupiterjess: i've ran out of oreos. is my life even worth living anymore?

@jupiterjess: the new cheerleading captain at jasper high messaged me for tips. LITTLE OLD ME. i'm blushing hardcore.

@jupiterjess: thank you so much to everyone who failed to tell me i've been walking around with a chocolate milk moustache all day!!!!! you're the best guys!!!!!! thanks!!!!!

@jupiterjess: do you ever just. stop and think. about exoplanets?? someone come hold my hand and talk to me about exoplanets.

@jupiterjess: HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU'RE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!!!!!

@jupiterjess: america, i have no idea what you're doing right now, but you need to be better than this. wake up and smell the racism.

@jupiterjess: 'it's a power that jedi have that lets them control people and... makes things float.' rEY asdfgh

@jupiterjess: as a bisexual, the trailer for 'last christmas' has been very difficult for me. thoughts and prayers for jess in this trying time.

@jupiterjess: @NASA i love u

8 FACTS ABOUT SPACE

1. Halleys Comet won’t orbit past earth again until 2061

JESS' INPUT: Okay, so here's another fun fact about Halleys Comet! At Disney's Magic Kingdom, Main Street USA is connected to Tomorrowland by one thing and one thing only. Main Street's design is based on the year 1910, and Tomorrowland's design is based on the year 1986. What do those two years have in common? That was when Halleys Comet orbited past Earth! ... That's more of a Disney World fact, but pretty cool all the same, huh?

2. A full NASA spacesuit costs $12,000,000.

JESS' INPUT: 12 million! That's so much money, holy smokes. Honestly, imagine going around wearing an outfit that cost 12 million dollars. Wouldn't be me! I'm getting anxiety just thinking about it.

3. There may be a planet made out of diamonds.

JESS' INPUT: Okay, so this planet is like, 40 lightyears away and it's eight times the size of earth. Researchers think it could be made of graphite and diamonds and everyone is like 'wow, that's cool!' And okay. yeah, I get it. Diamond planet. That's super cool. But you know what isn't cool? That episode of Doctor Who where they went to the diamond planet and that one woman got possessed. That was the opposite of cool.

4. The footprints on the moon will be there for 100 million years.

JESS' INPUT: There's no atmosphere on the moon so the footprints there can't be eroded by wind or anything like that. So those footprints are going to be there for practically forever. Imagine being Buzz and Neil and being able to flex like that. I went to the grocery store the other day, accidentally dropped a jar of Marmite and then stood in it - so my footprint was there because the cashier couldn't handle the Marmite-y smell for long enough to clean it up and apparently I wasn't allowed to help for 'health and safety'. So at least my footprint is going to be imprinted somewhere. Just nowhere that's as cool as the moon.

5. The moon was once a piece of the earth.

JESS' INPUT: People think that there was some sort of collision which made a part of earth break off. They say it was an early protoplanet of Mars called Theia. Anyway, Theia made the moon break away from Earth but it stayed around to orbit us because of the Earth's gravitational pull. Don't you love the moon? She's a lesbian queen! Hey, maybe Theia had a crush on her or something and just went about it like, the wrong way.

6. There is floating water in space.

JESS' INPUT: Uh huh! So there's this massive water vapour cloud that astronauts found and it holds - oh my gosh, get reads for this - it holds 140 trillion times the mass of Earth's oceans. My head is honestly spinning just thinking about it. 140 trillion! That's crazy!

7. There is a volcano on Mars three times the size of Everest.

JESS' INPUT: Yep, her name is Olympus Mons and I would personally like to know why she didn't have a starring role in The Martian. Maybe it's because she would have easily outshined Matt Damon. Sorry, Matt.

8. In 3.75 billion years, the Milky Way and Andromeda Galaxies will collide.

JESS' INPUT: I'll be honest, my brain doesn't even know where to begin processing this. I can't... compute. What is this... I can't... Sorry, I'm shutting down. Jess out!

7 OREO FLAVOURS

7. Hot & Spicy Cinnamon Oreos. - you can pretend you can handle spicy food by eating one of these. and doesn't that make you look cultured, huh? still... it's a weird mix of flavours. 5/10. 6. Peeps Oreos. - a solid 7/10 for taste... but you still feel guilty about eating a fluffy marshmallow chicken, hence the low ranking. 5. Oreo Mini. - all the 10/10 taste of a regular oreo but they're tiny so it's very easy to hide them when you want to sneakily eat them in class! a solid 12/10 for being so gosh darn convenient. 4. Golden Oreos. - look, you were brought up in ireland and that means that sometimes you just really, really want a custard cream, okay? this is america's answer to that and it comes in a delicious, compact oreo form. *chef's kiss* exquisite. 8.5/10 3. Mint Oreos. - honestly, it's so easy to feel halfway to sophisticated when you eat one of these. a solid 9/10. 2. Red Velvet Oreos. - CREAM CHEESE IS THE PEOPLE'S CHEESE!!! 10/10!!!!!! 1. Cinnamon Bun Oreos. - you nearly cried when you tasted these for the first time. the sun was shining. obama was president. your skin was clear, your crops were growing. the promise of tomorrow was as bright and warm as the feeling in your chest when that cinnamon-y biscuit-y goodness first met your tastebuds. you could write an essay on cinnamon bun oreos. 100000/10.

6 FAMILY MEMBERS

1. Jensen Greenfeld

Your dad is probably your favourite person in the world. You'd do anything for him - including deferring your college acceptance to keep an eye on him, because that's what family does. He's your rock, your best friend, and he's the most giving person you've ever met in your life. He and your mum met in university when he studied abroad for a year and they were instantly best friends, keeping in touch long after they'd graduated and your dad moved back home. He knew your mum always wanted a kid and so he gave her you. It's unconventional, you know that, and most people raised their eyebrows at him helping another woman conceive in such a short time after his wife passed away, but that's the kind of person your dad is. Generosity helped him through his grief. How could anyone criticise that? He taught you how to ride a bike, change a leaky exhaust and adopted Comet for you so you wouldn't feel so lonely when you moved to New York to be with him. When he ended up in hospital, you were beside yourself. But not because you had to stay with him now instead of going to college like you'd planned. You could never begrudge him that, not when so much of his own life has been dedicated to making sure you were happy.

2. Magda McTaggert

Your mum has never had the easiest life. Disowned by her parents after she came out to them, she had to make her own way in the world. That's something you've never been able to relate to, because she made sure that you always had people who loved you. When you were sick as a kid, she stayed up with you every night, barely getting any sleep herself. She was your champion when you began to learn sign language, and she held your hand when the doctors first began talking about your cochlear implants. You miss her when she's in Ireland and you're in America, but she's only ever a Skype call away.

3. Kinsey McTaggert

Technically, Kinsey is your step-mother. But you rarely refer to her as that. She's your ma. She's been in your life since you were three-years-old so keeping her at arms-length with a 'step' term doesn't feel right to you when she's just as much your family as your mum and dad are. Sure, you'll call her by your first name but that's because Kinsey is so terrifyingly, inexplicably, astronomically cool. She's been managing bands for her whole life, she has pink hair and she let you come on tour when you were younger and being homeschooled. Your fondest memories are the tour bus with your mum and Kinsey and whatever up and coming rockers had adopted you as their little sister. Kinsey is the reason you felt alright leaving your mum behind to start school in America. You know she's in safe hands with her wife.

4. Michelle Greenfeld

Michelle has pretty much hated you since the day you were born. Perhaps 'hate' is a strong word, but she highly dislikes you and never let you forget the fact that you're only her half-sister. In some ways, you get it. You came into the family shortly after her mum had died. Her dad had a kid with another woman and, even though there were absolutely no romantic feelings involved, it still must have felt like a kick in the teeth. You try your best to be accommodating of her feelings because you know she's not all bad. The ways she treats Brendan and especially Gabby is proof of that. She can be the perfect big sister - unfortunately, just not to you.

5. Brendan Greenfeld

Brendan likes you though, and you're so happy about that. Brendan is exactly what you want in a big brother. He's protective and funny and taught you all the cheats for his video games, so you're basically unstoppable when it comes to Mario Kart now. He was also the one that told Gabby to shut up when she saw you for the first time after you lost your hearing. He took learning sign language in his stride and always makes sure there's room for you to sit at movie night. Sometimes you worry that, if it ever came down to it, he'd still pick Michelle over you - full sibling loyalty and all. But maybe that's doing Brendan an injustice, because he's never been anything other than the perfect big brother to you.

6. Gabby Greenfeld

Gabby is a sweetheart. She might be a little flaky at times and come out with mildly offensive things, but you know that she means well. Michelle is her favourite but she loves you as well, even if she often turns her nose up at your love for scrunchies and denim jackets. She'd rather get you to wear something sparkly and show-y and while you'll never say no to glitter, you don't think that Gabby's closet is quite for you. In fact, you're pretty sure only she can pull it off. Gabby is wild and free and doesn't care what anyone thinks of her. She's loving and loud and you want to make sure that you get to keep her around forever.

5 MEMORIES

memory one

You blush when Tor lets out a low whistle. "Some talent you've got there, Little J," he says. That makes you blush even more. Tor is just so nice. And has a handsome face. Kinsey says you're far too young to like boys yet and that you're far too smart to like someone like Tor. She says he goes through girls like a revolving door and you're not sure what that means, but you like the attention from him anyway. "I was just messing around," you smile, your fingers trailing over the keys again. He tips back his head and laughs. "Well, mess around anymore and I might be out of a job. Are you trying to upstage me?" Tor teases. Grinning, you shake your head and Serge wanders over. Normally, he's so tall and silent and sort of intimidating but his smile is warm when he reaches over to ruffle your hair. "Say the word and I'll kick Tor to the curb in an instant, Jess," he promises solemnly. You know that they're just joking, but it's nice to feel that sort of validation. Especially when you're a little kid and they're rockstars. That's why music is so special, it brings everyone together, even Irish Harry Potter enthusiasts and charming keyboardists with pretty eyes.

memory two

The headache has cleared up but you still feel groggy and confused and so you fall back asleep again, promising yourself that you'll ask after your mum when you wake up again. Because maybe then you'll be able to hear her. There's no such luck when you come to again. Everything is silent and it's too weird to even begin describing. You're confused at first but your mum's tears, your dad's shell-shocked expression and the grim line set around Kinsey's mouth helps you to put the pieces together. There's a kind looking doctor who's writing something on a notepad for you, and you already know what it's going to say before he places it in your lap. You've worked it out. You're deaf. It's as if years fall away from you at that moment. It's hard to reconcile the news with everything you know about yourself. Your whole childhood has been music and now what? That's gone away and you're just meant to be okay with it? How is that fair? With shaking hands, you take the pen from the doctor and write a reply. As soon as your mum reads it, she starts crying again but your dad finds it in himself to smile and he reaches over to squeeze your knee through the hospital bedsheets. He still has that piece of paper which is stupidly sentimental of him and you love him for it. It read: Okay. What's next?

memory three

At first, you were excited. After years of homeschooling, you're finally going to a proper high school and you get to see your dad every day. What's not to love about all of that? However, now that you're in New York, the nerves have started to settle in. What if no one wants to be your friend? What if the kids at school are weird about the deaf thing? What if they try and touch your implant? What if they don't let you join the soccer team even though Kinsey bought you new cleats specifically for that? Most of all, what if Michelle tries to smother you in your sleep? Your dad laughs when you voice that one aloud. "Don't you think you're being a little bit dramatic?" he asks you, fondly smoothing down your hair. You laugh along with him but you aren't so sure. That night at dinner, Michelle spears a meatball with her fork in such an aggressive manner, glaring at you all the while, that you think you're about to faint. No, you don't think you're being dramatic at all.

memory four

"Jess? Jess, are you alright?" At first, you can't even reply. You're too speechless. With shaking hands, you present him with the letter - your CalTech acceptance letter. Your dad cheers at once and he scoops you up into a hug and you think that you could just die of happiness right then and there. You're going to be studying aeronautical engineering. All of the hard work, the late night physics reading, the dedication to science club, the hours spent in your dad's garage understanding engines, the grease and oil covering your hands and your hair and your face. It was all worth it. And now it's one step closer to NASA.

memory five

A heart attack. Your dad isn't even old, and as far as you know he's always had a clean bill of health so what's changed. You stay silent all the way to the hospital and Brendan lets you. When you arrive, Gabby hugs you and even Michelle manages a watery smile your way. Then all four of you are allowed into see him. He's lying in bed, tubes attached to him, but he's sitting upright and he smiles at you, his kids, even if he does look sleepy. Then he cracks some sort of joke and hell if you can remember what it is. But that's what makes you cry. The idea of college goes flying right out the window. He argues with you, naturally. So you lie and tell him you were never that sure about it anyway. He doesn't believe you at first because that career path has been the only thing you've ever been sure about since you were 11-years-old. Maybe you're a good actress because eventually he relents and lets you stay with him. Or maybe, deep down, he's scared to be on his own now too.

4 CRUSHES

1. Tor Eklund

keyboard player for The Corkscrews

has the nicest set of teeth in the world

went through girls like a revolving door according to Kinsey

called you 'little J'

total dreamboat

saw you as a little sister

2. Graham O'Connell

striker for the boys football team in Ireland

had never seen or read Harry Potter but he had floppy hair so you were willing to make allowances

always complimented your football boots

was your first kiss

asked if the two of you could keep in touch when you moved to Canada

messaged you one day to say he'd started watching Harry Potter

you were overjoyed

messaged you again to say he didn't really like Remus Lupin

you well and truly dodged that bullet, didn't you?

3. Amanda Forbes

literally the prettiest girl you've ever seen in your life

was visiting Jasper in the summer with her family

was also a cheerleader

your bisexual awakening

said she wanted to kiss you because she had never kissed a girl before

kissed you lots of times that summer

ghosted you when she left and has a boyfriend now

well, fine then, Amanda

4. Steve Rogers aka Captain America

I mean, you're only bloody human, aren't you?

3 JOBS

1. Neighbourhood Dog Walker

You were fourteen. You needed some money. You loved dogs. It made perfect sense. All the neighbours trusted you to look after their pooches and you made about twenty different canine friends.

2. Apprentice Mechanic

When you told your dad you wanted to be an aeronautical engineer, he said that you needed hands on experience. It helped that he owned an auto shop. Convenient, right? He thought a week working alongside him would help you get to grips with things and prepare you for college. You kept working there for three years. You loved it so much.

3 Aeronatucial Engineer

With your dad on the mend, it doesn’t seem like such a pipe dream anymore. Now you’re at NYU and you feel lucky that they want you to study with them. It’s not CalTech but it’s still one step closer to NASA, and this way you still get to be close to your dad.

2 DOGS

1. Comet

2. Sirius

1 JESS

Bubbly, optimistic, generous, strong-willed, determined, resilient, resourceful, courageous, cheery, nurturing, reckless, stubborn, lacks self-awareness, self-conscious, easily influenced, cares too much about what other people think of her, total Gryffindor, eats too many Oreos, space nerd, deaf, soccer player, cheerleader, dog mom, half-Irish, half-American.

#muse;

1 note · View note