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yoonyia · 3 months

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my humanity in a book series now that I actually think about the premise is so weird.

the original concept is just to prove that all of humanity's pain and suffering and joys and gifts can be shown in just a few books, that a lot of our struggles are shared and a lot are unique but that they're all inherently human.

no matter what experience you go through it's going to be a human experience because you are a human, and no matter how isolated and alone or exiled you feel the rest of humanity you are still infact human and take that part of you everywhere

you will always be a step in some direction of humanity no matter what that deed is

it's not meant to be read as comforting, in all honesty most of the characters find the idea of never not being human to be sort of disturbing. But that's a part of the human experience too. To look at humanity and say "man we suck"

But now I'm looking at it and it's more then that

the book is set in the 32nd century

although because of my lack of imagination I can't think of what the language would be like I did haphazardly put together a culture that I personally felt like matched the common trend of development in humanity

everyone is given a livable space, concept of currency really isn't a thing (but that's less on humanity and just because the space colony is made up of roughly 10,000 people and trade is impossible, there's more reasons too but I won't get into them at this moment) and in all honesty the society is fundamentally different then most societies on earth.

It's what you would call a utopia but it's such an obvious system that no body even considers it good. They talk only about the unfairness of the council members and the inhuman layout the colony is built on to make it relatively fair between all people. (I say fair not equal because they do take children, occupation and just size of person into account, which yes is a nightmare for everyone invloved)

but I dont know if you see it but there's a disconnect

they don't value the things we value, they don't have the same desires the same ambitions the same secret indulges, many conflicts are the same as they are now but they have a completely different context, different reactions from people, different tones and no real recognizable side we usually see in modern debates.

it's worse then if it were completely different conflicts, then you could just do some narrative translation and make it based off of the modern lense but you can't do that because it's the same conflict. ofcourse it's not to a point where your brain thinks "I can't compherehend this at all" but actually that makes it worse, because it is compherehensible it just isn't common

it's a story trying to tell you that all human experiences are inherently human but it's showing you a humanity that you can't really quite connect with

things you think are basic desires exist but they're not considered the core things that makes someone human, there's something alien about these people that you can't really agree with the actions they take and can't make sense of the movements and words they make.

800 years is a long time and I wanted to show it but I made a story that's inherently ironic

it still fits the original theme, it might fit it even better since it's telling you no matter how much humanity changes its still going to be humanity

but I left my audience behind, I alienated them to show them that they are human, that despite the alienation they're still apart of this society that they're reading about that dosent feel quite right

it's a weird thing to do

I really thought this book was going to be simple to write but I'm already adding layers and I don't think I'm going to stop

and also the science aspect behind this story excites me so much

I'm no biology major so half the stuff I come up with for the alien planet's are probably going to be impossible but it's fun to write about

espicially the plants, I found the heat regulated Lilly pads to be really fun to think up of

also fox like creatures that glow under uv light, gosh that took so much research

they're adorable by human standards but they are deathly venomous so please don't pet them

this series isn't even the only one in this universe

there's a second story that I suddenly forgot the name of but it's something like 'Colony 1, Brother Lutangalo' or something similar.

oh and if you haven't noticed yes these books are heavily inspired by the enderverse and I just wanted to go more indepth into the parts of the books that was largely left unexplored. So this series is also inspired by the shadow series, so the humanity in a book is more morality, conceptual and personal in nature the col1 brother lutangalo books are more political and more grounded in the main society (the 2 main characters are sent to set up a colony on a different planet so they aren't really on the main colony themselves) the main narrator being lutangalo which is the son of the 108 year old colony leader Lau. (this society also has a euthanization law that all people over the age of 100 by law must die to prevent over population, but religious leaders are protected so they can live pass 100 indefinitely) and is currently 8 when you first meet him. Actually his books don't start until he's 12, we meet him when he's 8 because that's the year the 2 main characters comes back

his books, and I'm calling them his books because this series is heavily centered on the one character rather then the humanity series which is forced to jump between people in different time and space to get the message across because the 2 main characters litterally don't react to anyone else but eachother for the majority of book one, all of book 2 and half of book 3 (at least that's what my planning says but it may change when I get to writing the drafts)

anyways his books are very focused on the family that he's apart of and how they affect the colony, it also focuses on the personal perspective of this one kid which is honestly the closet thing the readers get to a instinctually relatable character, he has all the impulses and needs a person of the current age would have, because he basically lived in the 21st century because of his obsessive need to research about Mr ari who is notoriously a history nerd.

so you're finally getting a person that lives and breathes in the same patterns as you do.

and he's so miserable

he is one of the most troubled, impulsive people you have ever met

but also the calmest and kindest and gentlest person at the same time

he's a horrible liar until he isn't, he's intelligent and self aware until he's shockingly oblivious

just a ball of horrible contradictions that feels way too unstable and flipfloppy to be consistently relatable

yes of course in several moments you will exclaim "ha, he's just like me!" but it's going to be rather hard to admit that all of his experiences and actions are relatable or even compherehensible

unlike the first series it's not justifiable in any rational way

it's messy, it's complicated, it's convoluted and he's honestly awful in some scenes

but thats human too

#i have this weird thing of trying to write a simple story then making it wayyyyyyy too complicated #THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT A DRUNKARD WHO LEARNS TO GET OVER HIS ADDICTION BY GOING ON A SPACE TRIP WHERE HE CANT DRINK ALCOHOL #AND WHEN HE COMES BACK THE PERSON HE WAS ON THE SPACE TRIP IS LIKE “NO SIR YOU ARE NOT DRINKING MORE”#THEN IT BECAME SO COMPLICATED #also fun thing (?) is that you never get to meet lutangalos mother in his books but she gets an entire chapter to herself in the humanity #series #her name is caroline and yes she was the lady i was gushing about #i often fall in love with the characters i write #fall in love from an aro ace perspective is weird but it basically means im devoted to them?#for me it was less platonic and more spiritual #but then again internally my love for my friends do appear more worshippy then friends but alas thats a different issue #i really love this story and how indepth it is but also hate it because it takes up so much brain storage and im afriad ill forget stuff #its not even very high on my priorities #its below fixem which isnt even a story i really enjoy #dnd is my priority honestly #endersgame #inspired books are really cool but i never saw one that focused on the thousands of years in the future bit #i want to die #but i must write #i swear if i die before i finish my dnd campaign im going to kill everyone

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studentofetherium · 2 years

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and now for some criticism of a 50 year old book that none of my followers have read

The Monkey Wrench Gang is such a problematic text because while i love parts of its messaging, particularly the fact that people who care about the environment should rise up and protect it themselves, it's also wretched in many other ways, including the very message i like

so the point of the book is that a dam is being built, and it will kill the local ecosystem to do so. this is bad, so the protagonists, the titular monkey wrench gang, set out to stop it through the use of everyday common tools to sabotage industrial equipment. namely, a monkeywrench to loosen the screws. that's a beautiful message to send. we already have the tools to make the world a better place, we just need to use them

the problem is that the book is deeply, deeply libertarian. this exists in two forms. the first is the classical definition, the bottom half of the political compass. the book is deeply anti-authoritarian and anti-government. cool! i am too! but while it doesn't resemble the "sell cocaine to the child sex slaves" brand of capital L Libertarianism that would come to be known over the next 50 years, the book is still very much right-wing in nature. while the characters want to protect the environment, they do so because it's something they like, not because of some greater good. it's a selfish form of environmentalism. on its own, that might be fine, but the selfishness affects the text. the earliest act of monkeywrenching the characters engage in is blowing up billboards in the desert. are billboards a problem to natural beauty? yes, definitely. is anything gained by destroying them? no. if you have an issue with them, you can lobby with the local government to ban or limit them. except the book is so deeply libertarian that it sees the individual solution as the only one

also, the book is really sexist. i never finished it because the single female character is treated like shit, and the male characters aren't any more pleasant

but the book doesn't exist in isolation. The Monkey Wrench Gang formed a political movement, Earth First! who saw it as their bible to protect the world. with the understanding that the key to saving the world was in their hand, they set forth to protect the natural beauty of the US. i love Earth First! they are a cornerstone of my political ideology. but The Monkey Wrench Gang casts a dark shadow over the history of the group

Earth First! was founded by men who saw themselves in the protagonists of the book. rude, aggressive men. Libertarians. Dave Foreman (who i just delightfully learned is dead) in particular was outspoken about what the group should be, which was gruff, libertarian men who did things on their own. and for many years, that's what Earth First! was

but in the late 80s, Earth First! began to experience a cultural shift as they focused their attention away from the American Southwest and towards the Pacific Northwest, where extreme logging threatened to completely strip the region of its forests. a lot of the people who participated in Earth First! events in the PNW were young women (such as my mom), and importantly, left-wing. by the end of this cultural shift in the early 90s, Earth First! had a notably anarchist lean, and David Foreman had left (he was mad about this until his death. lol)

Redwood Summer was a months-long event where Earth First! had thousands of volunteers show up. the summer was preceded by an attempted FBI assassination too. between the bombing and the loud noise they were able to make, the movement caught national attention. Redwood Summer remains the event that the group is most known for, and once they got what they were trying for, aka local governments limiting the amount of logging that companies were able to do, there was a noticeable decline in activity

i love Earth First! but their origins are deeply problematic because it's so much rooted in The Monkey Wrench Gang and the budding libertarian ideology of the 70s. other texts were used as inspiration, such as Silent Spring by Rachel Carson or A Sand County Almanac by Aldo Leopold, but The Monkey Wrench Gang and the individualism it espoused were always a core part of the group, especially in its early days. it's also hard to separate The Monkey Wrench Gang from the practice of tree spiking, which is putting metal spikes in trees to prevent logging. this doesn't harm the tree, so theoretically a forest can be spiked, and the company logging it informed of such, meaning that they have to leave it alone, as if a spiked tree is logged, it will destroy equipment such as saws. the problem is that this can easily lead to loggers being hurt or killed, such as if a chainsaw's band breaks and strikes them. for advocates of the rugged individualism, this is fine, because it's their fault for logging in the first place, but any reasonable view will see this as unacceptable, because the loggers themselves are not the ones at fault. tree spiking was controversial for many years and Earth First! pamphlets would come with guilds for how to effectively tree spike. it was eventually banned, but it's a black mark on the group's history

i've lost the point here, a bit. all of this is the legacy of The Monkey Wrench Gang. i respect it for starting this movement which would go on to be so important, but at the same time, the text itself is rather vile and the worst aspects of Earth First! all lay in this and similar texts. i wish i could find more personal value in it, but it's a case where everything of value to do with it is what came after. people don't talk about the book much anymore except in the context of Earth First! but i think it has a fascinating history and despite all the Problems i just spent a thousand words talking about, i think it would do the world some good to have it and similar texts be apart of the discourse again

#long post

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idreamofplaid · 3 years

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Rebirth

Square Filled: Anonymous Sex

Characters: Dean x Reader; Cara (OFC); Chase and Jake (OMCs) mentioned

Rating: Explicit

Summary: After a nasty divorce and some soul searching, the reader knows just how to get her life back with a little help from a young handsome stranger.

Word Count: 3576

Tags: language; oral (female receiving); unprotected sex; age difference

A/N: This is for @idabbleincrazy ‘s 1k Follower Celebration. Congrats on your 1st thousand followers! I chose the song “1985″ by Bowling for Soup for inspiration and the prompt “Oh, fuck off.”

Created for @spnkinkbingo

Fuck him and his new girlfriend. He could have at least waited until the ink dried on your divorce papers before he decided to parade his “new” woman in front of the entire town. New. Right. He’d been fucking her while he was still married to you.

You needed to get the hell out of this place. Start over somewhere, somewhere that no one knew of your humiliation or how you’d thrown your life away. Only, you couldn’t because you had two children in high school that loved their lives here. At least they were happy; that’s what mattered, right?

The so-called “friends” you had in the subdivision couldn’t wait to tell you about your barely ex-husband and how he’d been seen out with her at the fanciest, most expensive restaurant in town. It was the same place he’d taken you for your last anniversary.

By the time your SUV pulled up in front of the bridal boutique, you were still seething. You slammed the door when you got out, not giving a damn who saw you. Let them go back and tell the entire fucking book club about your lack of decorum if that’s how they got their thrills.

When you walked into the store, a sea of white flooded your vision. Well, here was exactly what you wanted to see. Wedding dresses. Beyond them, further in the back, were the prom dresses. It was like the highlight reel of your life in dress form.

You’d gone to your senior prom with the cheating son of a bitch that was now providing juicy material for all the town gossips, and just like the biggest cliche ever; you’d given him your virginity that night. If only you could take that back, but you’d been young, wide eyed, and in love. Four years later, right after college graduation, you married him. As a result, Chase was the only man you’d ever had sex with. Right now, you were really kicking yourself for that one.

In fact, you couldn’t be more pissed at yourself for the decisions you’d made. If there was a way you could erase it all and somehow keep your two kids, you’d do it. You loved them, and it was that love that brought you here to this hell of taffeta, sequins, and silk. The alterations were finished on your daughter’s prom dress, and it was ready for pick up.

You tried to settle the storm of anger and frustration that was raging inside you before you walked up to the counter. It wasn’t the sales associate’s fault your life had turned out the way it had. You blamed yourself for that, and blaming yourself just made you madder.

Somehow, you managed to plaster on a smile while you gave your name and got the dress. Once it was in your hands, you stood frozen staring at it. It was a sapphire blue, body hugging, silk and Cara would be beautiful in it. It made your mind wander back to another blue prom dress, the dress you had worn thirty years ago. “I was the goddamned prom queen,” you muttered under your breath.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Joachin, the sales associate was staring at you with a confused expression on his face.

“Nothing,” you replied a little too sharply, abandoning all your earlier good intentions toward the innocent Joachin. You turned and swept out of the store in a huff of tarnished memories and present day frustration.

As you walked out into the sunshine of the early afternoon, you draped the dress over your arm. With your other hand, you started to dig around in your purse for your keys. Where the hell were they?

By the time only a few steps remained between you and your car, a feeling of furious panic started to bubble up inside you. You couldn’t have. When you reached the car and looked through the window, you saw that indeed you absolutely had. There were the keys, hanging in the ignition.

You placed your forehead against the cool glass of the window and closed your eyes. Of course this had happened. You would be stuck here dealing with this fuck up for hours. The auto club was never quick to respond to any call for help. At least you didn’t have to worry about the kids getting home from school. Cara had her own car, and Jake had an away baseball game this afternoon. You wouldn’t need to pick him up until later tonight.

A deep voice broke through your mental attempt to organize this mess. “It looks like you could use some help.”

You opened your eyes to see those bloody keys still hanging there, mocking you. Without nearly as much fire as you’d been feeling earlier, but still enough to get your sentiment across, you responded, “Oh, fuck off.”

“Well, I could. Or, I could help you break into your car.” Break in? Who the hell was this, and how dare he have so much cockiness in his voice?

You turned to confront the unknown son of a bitch who was so clearly finding your situation amusing. Upon seeing him, your attitude instantly changed. This man was gorgeous. He had full lips, a chiseled jawline, and eyes the green of an Irish meadow.

His face was so pretty it could easily grace a movie screen, and his body was equally heart stopping. He had the broadest shoulders you’d ever seen on a man, and you could see enough through the open front of the leather jacket he was wearing to know his chest and stomach were firm. He looked like walking sex, and it had been way too long since you’d had any.

The spark of inspiration struck, but in this case it was more like a lightning bolt. It was time to reclaim your own life. “Forget the keys. Where’s your car?”

Young and handsome smiled and gave a nod in the direction of the other side of the street. “It’s over there.”

Your eyes followed the direction of the tilt of his head. “That’s your car?” It figured. The car was a classic muscle car, strong and beautiful. It was just as much of a standout as the man it belonged to.

You dug back in your memory, seeking your long dormant flirting skills. They were rusty for sure, but still there. You smiled at this breathtaking man, just the right combination of coy and suggestive. “Could I trouble you to give me a ride home?”

He smiled back, and those green eyes got a certain gleam in them. God. He was clearly much better and more practiced at this flirting thing than you were. “Sure, sweetheart. It won’t be a problem at all.”

You followed him across the street, enjoying the view of his ass as you went. When you reached the car, he opened your door for you. THAT was something you hadn’t experienced in awhile. A welcome feeling began to flow through your veins, replacing the anger, frustration, humiliation, and regret you’d been feeling all day. This was a ripple of excitement and anticipation of entering unknown territory.

Handsome started the car, and the purr of the engine revved up that ripple of excitement inside you, turning it into a wave that washed over you and secured the idea that had been dancing through your mind. You silently committed yourself to it, and that decision filled you with something that felt remotely the way you remembered joy feeling.

He reached over and turned the knob to start the radio, then pushed a tape into the tape deck. Good lord. A cassette tape. It had been forever since you’d seen one of those. This guy had barely been born the last time they had been popular.

The songs that poured through the speakers were from your youth, before that even. They were the songs you’d heard when you were a kid. Songs from the time of your life when you didn’t think anything about mistakes, or getting things wrong. You were just filled with hope, possibility, and excitement for the future. That was the feeling you needed to recapture.

This was a good start. Many would say it was a reckless start, but this wasn’t their life. It was yours, and it was time you took it back. In some ways, you would be claiming it for the first time, and this incredibly handsome, exciting, and just a bit dangerous man beside you could help you do that.

He noticed the smile that had appeared on your face. “You like the music?” he asked.

“I do. I appreciate a man with a taste for the classics.” Those intoxicating green eyes were focused on you before he turned them back to the road and smiled.

Then a little bubble of excitement rose up in your chest, and you bit your lip. An idea had struck you. It was possible to redo your life; you were young enough. You weren’t just going to spend the rest of your days on the sidelines watching your kids live. On impulse, you turned and asked him, “Do you have anything from the eighties?” It was possible. This was a man with a collection of cassette tapes.

He didn’t take his eyes from the road, but his grin got bigger. “There’s a box under the seat. You might find some Bon Jovi in there, but I’m not making any promises.”

You reached under the seat, found the box, and started to shuffle through the bunch of tapes you found there. After sorting through the Zeppelin and the AC/DC, your eyes fell upon exacting what you’d been looking for. It was Bon Jovi’s greatest album in your opinion, Slippery When Wet, circa 1987.

You opened the plastic cassette cover and took the tape in your hands. It sent a rush through you, unlike anything you’d felt in years. This was the album you played in your own cassette deck every afternoon after school, all that time ago, with your best friend in the passenger seat beside you. Everything lay ahead of you, all the bad decisions still lay ahead. It was all nothing but good.

It felt like a magical talisman you held in your hands. You looked at your new companion hopefully. “Can I?”

“Sure,” he answered as he popped the current tape out of the deck and tossed it on the seat between you.

You put your find in the tape deck, and immediately the sounds of “Livin’ on a Prayer” filled your ears. Your eyes closed, and you allowed yourself to indulge in the fantasy of turning back the clock and living a different life. It was a life with a different boyfriend and a different outcome, the one where you weren’t a washed up stay at home mom who had put so many of her dreams on hold to support her husband and his.

Dreams of travel filled your mind, dreams of travel and starting your own business. Once you had imagined being a fashion designer, a glamorous fashion designer, before you started wearing conservative suburban wife clothes and stopped dreaming. The rekindling of that spark of who you might have been brought a smile to your lips.

“What are you thinking?” Handsome with the green eyes and the incredible voice asked you. He reached across the seat and took your hand in his. Your smile got even bigger. It was time to push the reset button on your life.

You gave the gorgeous stranger directions to your house. Okay, that was a little risky, but of all the things that had gone off the rails in your life; your intuition wasn’t one of them. You had the very distinct feeling you could trust him.

Your garage door opener was trapped back in your SUV along with your keys. He’d just have to park his car in the driveway. Let the nosy neighbors wonder about that.

Fortunately, you had a spare key to the house hidden nearby. It took a minute to find the correct rock, but when you did; there was the key where you’d hidden it underneath. You returned to the front door triumphant, key in your hand. Once inside, you put your purse on the table in the foyer while mystery man turned in a slow circle, taking in the place.

He turned back to you. “Nice house.”

You took off your jacket and hung it on the coat rack in the corner. “Thanks. There’s a nice liquor cabinet too. How about a drink? A small thank you for rescuing me from the side of the road.”

He rubbed his thumb along the corner of his mouth. “It wasn’t exactly the side of the road, but I will take that drink.”

You walked on into the house, making your way to the living room; he followed. The bar was located near the massive floor to ceiling fireplace, and the ceilings were high. Chase had insisted on it. It always struck you as a little much, but he was ever aware of appearances. Until now, it would seem. Apparently, abandoning your wife and children for a gold digging bimbo was a good look.

The crystal decanters on the bar certainly had the right look. They also had the right aged whiskey inside them. You flipped over two tumblers and poured some in each.

He took the glass you offered him and raised it to those luscious lips. After a long sip, he asked you “What’s it like living in a place like this?”

You whirled the whiskey in your glass for a moment, starting at it, then glanced up at him. “Not as wonderful as you might imagine. What about you? Where do you live?”

It was his turn to find his glass fascinating for a few seconds. “Nowhere really. I travel around a lot.” You couldn’t quite pin down the tone of his voice. Did he like that fact about his life or not? Either way, it added to the air of mystery around him.

You took a swallow from your own glass. The little boost of alcohol induced bravery certainly wouldn’t hurt with what you had in mind. “Are you in town for long?”

He licked his lips before answering. “That depends. I’m here for a job. Not sure how long it’s going to take yet.” Enough with the small talk.

You took the glass from his hand and put it down on the bar. “What about this afternoon? Do you have a little time off?”

He settled his hand at your waist. “I could take a couple of hours for some relaxation.”

You downed the remaining contents of your glass and placed it on the bar next to his. “I have a couple of hours too.” You put your arm around him and let your palm rest over the center of his back.

That sinful mouth was on top of yours in an instant, and he absolutely knew what to do with it. His kiss was gentle but firm, tongue dragging along the seam of your lips until you opened them for him. The taste of the bourbon on his tongue as his tongue moved around yours was practically weaving a spell around you.

The kiss became deeper and more insistent. Your tongue swirled and tangled around his, and your breathing hitched in your chest. He started to bend you back over the bar, and, from deep inside your pocket, your phone started to ring. “Ignore it,” he said against your lips.

“I can’t.” That’s what it meant to be a mother. You fished the phone out of your pocket and checked the screen to see who was calling. Maybe it wasn’t one of the kids. Cara.

You touched the screen to answer and put the phone next to your ear. “Hello.”

Without any preamble, your daughter launched right into the purpose of her call. “Mom, is okay if I…. Why are you breathing so hard? Are you doing one of those old aerobics routines again? Mom, that is so lame.”

He was kissing down your neck, his mouth open just enough to require you to struggle to concentrate. “No, that’s not what I’m doing.”

You heard the sigh and could picture her rolling her eyes. “Whatever, Mom. Can I go over to Tabitha’s for dinner?”

He was sucking on your pulse point, and it was getting harder to keep your mind on the conversation. “Yes. That’s fine. Be careful driving home.” You ended the call, aware the kissing that had felt so incredibly good had stopped.

He’d taken a step back from you, and those captivating green eyes held a big question. “Look, this can’t happen if you’re….”

You quickly replayed your side of the conversation in your head. “Married? No. I am very much not married. That was my daughter, and she won’t be home for several hours.”

His smile was back, and his arm went back around your waist. “Well, in that case, where were we?”

You all but tore the leather jacket from his shoulders and let it fall in a heap on your expensive rug along with your phone. The rest of his clothes and yours disappeared on the trip down the hall to your bedroom where you’d been sleeping alone for so many months.

Surprisingly, you didn’t feel at all self conscious as you walked into your bedroom naked with this man you’d just met. He was a sight to behold. You wanted to taste and touch every tempting inch of him, and you started with his chest.

You ran your hand over the firm muscles in his pecs and let your fingers trace over the fascinating tattoo there. It was as much a mystery as the rest of him, and you didn’t ask him any questions about it. This wasn’t a “bare your heart and share your past” kind of afternoon.

He watched your hands on him, and when he raised his eyes to meet yours; they were dark, filled with lust. His hand closed over yours, large and strong, and he led you to the four poster bed. God, he was gorgeous.

Solid thighs, toned stomach, and thick cock that made your mouth water just looking at it. He lay back on the bed, his golden freckle dusted skin a beautiful contrast to the white of the comforter, and pulled you down with him. You could feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

It made you wet for him, and for a brief second you wondered exactly what it was you were doing. That stray thought didn’t last long. It was replaced by a voice inside you that had been silenced by responsibilities and expectations of who you should be. He’s hot, and you’re single. Enjoy him.

He pulled you down into another kiss that made your head go dizzy with the sheer goodness of it. It felt wonderful, blissful, and consuming. Most of all, it made you feel sexy again. You started to move your hips, undulating them on the warmth of his firm body beneath you, losing yourself to the moment.

There were so many sensations competing for your attention. He was igniting the desire inside you that you had all but forgotten was there. His muscled arms circled around you, and he rolled you under him, caging you between his arms on either side of your head.

“Sure you want to do this?” he asked you huskily. His voice was as sexy as the rest of him.

“Absolutely. Don’t you dare stop now.” His lips crashed down on yours, and you returned every bit of the passion he put into that kiss. Then he moved his mouth down your body. The heat of his mouth closed over one of your nipples, and he began to suck on it, pulling the softest, neediest moans from you you’d ever heard escape your mouth.

This man shattered every inhibition you ever had with his talented tongue. The sounds you made when he closed his lips around your clit were absolutely wanton. He licked at you and ate you out like he enjoyed it. If his mouth was talented; his cock was even better.

It stretched you with a sweet burn that satisfied the ache and filled you. You dragged your nails down his back, wanting to leave your mark on him. He was certainly going to leave his with you. The memory of this day would be seared in your mind always.

He knew ways to make you feel good you had never even known about yourself. After your third orgasm of the afternoon, he finally came. You felt the pulsing of his cock inside you, and there was a certain satisfaction in that. You were smiling when he pulled out, rolled over, and lay down next to you.

His chest was rising and falling, his arm slung over his head. He was the picture of debauchery, and you loved how it felt to be debauched. You would need to take the comforter to the cleaners after this, because you weren’t done yet. Let those busybodies at the dry cleaners just try and figure out what happened to your bedding.

That wicked thought made you smile broadly. Oh, yes. The comforter would be ruined by the time you were done. This guy was for sure good for another round. Or two.

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Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee @flamencodiva @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @focusonspn @akshi8278 @ladywinchester1967 @sgarrett49 @wingedcatninja @coffee-obsessed-writer @adoptdontshoppets @ellewritesfix05 @weepingwillowphoenix

#1kclassicrockchallenge #spnkinkbingo #dean smut #dean x reader #dean oneshot

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aquaticstyles · 4 years

Text

from the dining table

I know I said I was posting at 7, but I finished earlier than expected :) 5k inspired by the song we all know and love, From the Dining Table. Hope you all enjoy reading! I really liked how this one turned out. As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated!!!

“Whatcha doin' out here by yourself?"

You nearly jump out of your skin and send the wine sloshing in your glass splashing onto the freshly cut grass at the sound of his voice.

You hoped—you prayed that you could get through the night without running into him. You were here to celebrate your good friend and her new husband, not re-open old scars. Yet here he is, right in front of you, dressed to the nines in all black, tailored perfectly to fit his broad shoulders and slim waist, chestnut locks styled haphazardly and intentionally all at once, new, foreign stubble on his upper lip and jaw making him that much more ruggedly handsome, chest hair peeking through the opened buttons of his shirt, and a white rose clipped to the lapel of his jacket.

He looks good. He looks really good, and you would like to die.

You would very much like to bury yourself in a hole.

He seems so familiar, traces of an old lover lost in the gold flecks of his eyes, but you don't know him, at least not anymore. He's a stranger now, an array of old photographs and journal clippings scattered throughout your memory. He went from being your person, to a person--from being the one person you could talk to for hours upon hours tangled in the sheets, the moonlight from the open curtains dancing upon miles and miles of bare skin, without ever growing tired, to the one person that sucks every word out of you, leaving you speechless, an awkward shell of the confident woman you used to be around him.

You would have followed him anywhere, blind, heart thumping beneath your chest, relying solely on his palm in yours to guide you through the dark—to the ends of the earth, tiptoes over the edge, ready and willing to plummet thousands of feet downward.

The breeze that floats through the air and brushes against your arm adds more goosebumps to the ones already present due to the man next to you. Everything around you is calm—the ocean to your right, waves slowly reeling in and releasing back against the shoreline, the sun setting in the horizon, creating warm hues of tangerine and pomegranate in the sky and sparkling on the endless canvas of blue below, the palm trees rustling gently, the soft chatter of guests behind you in the distance. Outside, there's a whirlwind of serenity, but inside, there's a hurricane crashing against your rib cage.

"Oh, I, um, had a phone call," you confess. You barely got the day off to come to the wedding, and your phone has been buzzing nonstop with work emails, texts, and voicemails.

Yes, you had to take a phone call, but you also needed a minute. A minute for yourself. A minute to reflect, on both past and future.

A minute to inhale--his palm in yours, your cheek pressed against his chest, his temple resting on top of your head, swaying slowly in the kitchen, Frank Sinatra's 'One For My Baby' echoing softly, pulling you closer to him if possible, hushed whispers of "I love you" from two hearts beating in unison.

A minute to exhale--love letters, broken promises, his (your) favorite t-shirt, borrowed books, his handwriting still in the margins, tokens of his thoughts, postcards, one for each new city he inhabited while he way away from you for months on end, pearls, a Frank Sinatra vinyl, your ring stretched and bent from his pinky, anything and everything that was part of him, tucked away in a cardboard box in your attic, collecting dust.

Weddings are supposed to be joyous; they're supposed to remind you of just how amazing life can be, particularly when it's spent with someone you love, but you can't help but feel lonelier than ever.

This is what you wanted.

This is what you wanted with him.

"Still always working," sparkles dance in those eyes of his, morphing every coherent thought in your head to mush. It's criminal how relaxed he is. It's almost as if you're old friends catching up, as if all of the history between the two of you simply no longer exists. He's smirking at you, making your insides turn to jelly and your brain slosh around in your skull. He seems entirely unfazed as he strolls closer to you, the whiskey in his glass barely moving from how slow he progresses. He's honey, the golden sugar dripping lazily from a swarming hive.

You look good. You look really good. And he notices.

His eyes trail from the very tip top of your head, to your cherry red toenails, and you immediately shrink in on yourself. He studies your appearance, long locks of hair he used to comb his fingers through flowing in the slight breeze and cascading down your back, thin straps holding up the loose, silky fabric of your sundress, heart-shaped lips glistening, coated in your favorite lip gloss (He thinks the longer he stares, the more he can taste them again—the more he can feel the sticky substance transferred on his own lips, remnants of your sparkles imprinted on him), freckled cheeks paired with a rosy nose, results from a sunburn (You're tanner than he last saw you. Has your skin always been this golden?), a new tattoo on your inner right forearm, a compass, so minute that one would have to be staring to notice (Which he was, and he did).

Then he sees it.

That all-too-familiar gold band wrapped around your right middle finger, catching the light reflecting from the white wine in your glass.

The ring he gave you.

The one he saw in Japan and had to buy because it had you written all over it. The one he left on his pillow in your shared bed, waiting for you once you had successfully stretched and rubbed the sleep from your eyes while he was off to an early studio session. The one he had engraved, "H.S." on the inside of, a little piece of him always with you. The last token of him you couldn't bring yourself to rid of, a time capsule from a past love.

As soon as you realize he's spotted it, your grip on the glass in your hand tightens. Harry's eyes immediately snap back to yours—after all this time, you still wore the ring. Why were you still wearing the ring?

In a desperate attempt to distract Harry from asking that question you knew was swimming around in his mind, you clear your throat, "Still always working," you force a tight-lipped smile and rock on your heels, "that and you know I'm no good at dancing." You nod your head to the crowded dance floor alive with couples drunk off the mini bar behind the two of you.

Harry's hard expression softens, accompanied by a dimple as memories of your horrible dancing come flooding back. He releases a warm chuckle, one you haven't heard in ages that echoes in your eardrums longer than you would have liked, "Can't argue with that, 'member you almost broke m'big toe a couple times." His eyes never leave yours as he takes a sip from his glass, the amber liquid gliding down his throat with a faint burn.

The space between the two of you progressively decreases as he moves closer and closer, until suddenly his shoulder is only a couple inches away, daring to brush against yours. You're both facing the ocean now, backs towards the roaring crowd. You close your eyes, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore easing the anxiety coasting through your veins. You inhale slowly, enjoying the feeling of the wind brushing against your cheekbones, cooling off the nervous heat Harry has caused. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Harry turns his head and watches you with your eyes fluttered closed, admiring your side profile up close with no shame, because how could he not? He hasn't seen you in person for over a year—it's like he's seeing you for the first time again. He fights the urge to tuck a stay piece of hair behind your hair, something he would have done without thinking if things hadn't gone completely downhill. He wants to memorize how you look in this moment, the exact position of every eyelash, the exact angle of the slope of your nose, just in case he has to go another 12 months without seeing you again. But boy, he wants to see you again. And again.

You keep your eyes closed, your lips turning upwards in a faint smirk, "I saw you at Target the other day," you open your eyes and turn to look at Harry, only to find him already fully fixated on you. Has he been staring at you this whole time? "Rolling stone? That's big."

He grins at your flustered look of shock; he was caught, but he's not embarrassed at all, not trying in the slightest to hide how much you have captivated his attention, "Uh yeah," Jesus, your eyes are beautiful. Your eyes didn't look this beautiful when you were together. Did you do something to your eyes? No, that's impossible. Is that a new piercing in your ear? You hate needles. Did you pierce it yourself? What else has changed about you? Harry, focus. What did you say again? Oh, yeah, Rolling Stone. "Doesn't do well for my narcissism though."

"Hmm... I can imagine," you take a sip of wine, returning your eyes back to the horizon, this time focusing on a pack of seagulls gliding through orange creamsicle skies. You can't stare into his eyes for too long without thinking of everything, the good, the bad, the ugly. Each time you look into his eyes, it's like reliving every conversation you ever had. His words, a gallon of feathers poured on top of you, soft tufts brushing against your skin. His words, a gallon of daggers poured on top of you, sharp metal piercing your skin.

Silence overwhelms the two of you—filling the void of words needed and wanted to be said.

Harry clears his throat and finally looks in front of him to the breathtaking sunset melting into the skyline, almost as breathtaking as you. Taking a big gulp of his whiskey, he prepares himself for the words about to spill from his mouth. He has to ask, because you're here, in person, live in stereo, and when will he have an opportunity like this again? This question has been swimming in his brain for months; it's been eating him alive, the unknown mystery of the situation. He's dying to know if you've heard that one song.

"Have yeh listened to the album?"

He chose the absolute worst time to ask this question, right when you were taking a sip from your glass. You nearly choke on the liquid sliding down your throat, erupting into a coughing fit as soon as you get a breath of air. Harry's eyes widen, immediately angling his body towards yours, a look of alarm flashing across his features. You hunch over, sending cough after cough into your free hand. A warm palm rests on your back between your shoulder blades, causing goosebumps to rise, and as soon as he's about to ask if you're okay, you wave your hand, brushing off your near-death experience. You cough one last time, your raspy voice hesitantly admitting, "Um yes, I have."

Harry furrows his eyebrows, analyzing your face to make sure you're actually okay and before he can stop it from happening, he's rubbing small circles into your back. He hovers his body slightly over yours as you cough one last time into your elbow. You mouth "I'm good" inaudibly and send him a thumbs up. You finally straighten back up, brushing your hair out of your face and blinking slowly a couple times, God, that was embarrassing, way to keep it cool.

When your posture returns to its natural state, and his palm on your back is no longer appropriate, Harry removes his hand and pushes it into his pocket. He silently curses himself for not grabbing intertwining your fingers together and squeezing your palm once—that was something he would always do when you were together. It was his thing. When you would be out shopping and the paps would show up inconveniently out of nowhere, he would grab your hand and squeeze it once, letting you know that he's here and he's sorry, before dropping it. When you would be eating dinner at your parents, laughing about who knows what, his knee brushing yours underneath the table, he would grab your hand and squeeze it once, letting you know that he's here and he loves you, before dropping it.

Silence returns again and you're both back to your original positions overlooking the sea. Bass thumping, "cheers!", clinking, birds chirping, leaves rustling, waves crashing, heavy breathing, congratulations, "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!", his rings tapping against his glass, the soles of your shoes crunching the grass, heart pounding.

The loudest silence breaks, "Figured one day you'd at least g'me a call back."

If you weren't sure if that last track was really about you, you were completely certain now. Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me you're sorry too. For the first time since he's been in your presence this evening, you regain a sense of confidence, your nervous jitters diminishing with your next statement.

"I didn't have anything to apologize for."

And you didn't. Not when he was the one that left, when he was the one that decided he didn't want to love you anymore, when he was the one that chose his life over the both of yours. It hurt. It still does. So why would you call him and tell him that you're sorry too? Sorry for what? Loving him too much? Because you loved him too much. He was the love of your life, the man you wanted to marry, the man you wanted to be the father of your children, the man that completely and utterly captured your heart and sewed it together with his own. But he left. And you had to figure out how to live without him, how to do the dishes when he wasn't drying, how to dance when it wasn't his records playing in the background, how to kiss when it wasn't his lips that were folded over yours, how to love again when it wasn't him that you were loving. You had to do it all. Alone. Pick up the pieces he scattered, put them back together, and super glue them.

Then he put out his debut album. And suddenly he was everywhere, from magazines, to billboards, to tv shows, to recommended YouTube videos, to Instagram, to twitter, to even Facebook, there he was again, closer to you than he had been in months, yet still light years away. And all of those pieces you super glued? Yeah, they became completely undone again, and it didn't help that you decided to actually listen to his album. It was one thing to see him everywhere, but to hear him again, hear that voice that once felt like home, it ruined you.

That song ruined you.

You remember the day that song was inspired from, every single detail.

You had a particularly busy day at work, and you decided to have a spa night. A bubble bath, a bottle of rosé, a face mask, a couple bath bombs, and a pizza was exactly what the doctor prescribed. You had just stepped out of your steamy wonderland, your body covered in your favorite, fluffy robe, soapy suds still clinging to damp skin, completely content in your cotton bubble and slightly buzzed from the glasses of wine you consumed. It was nearly 3 in the morning, and you just sat down at your vanity to apply your various lotions and serums when the phone rang.

Who on earth is calling you this late at night?

You shuffled your slippered-feet to your bedside table, glancing over to see something you never thought you'd see again.

His name.

Harry Styles

Flashing on your screen.

Nearly giving you a heart attack.

You froze in your tracks, eyes widening, mouth hanging open, breathing halting, heart beat slowing and thumping louder than ever in your ears. It felt like the entire world was put on pause, every car on the busy street outside your apartment stopped, traffic lights stuck on red, clouds frozen in place in the sky, every form of life on hold. You miss the call, not that you could have answered anyways; you were completely and utterly paralyzed.

Another notification: Harry Styles Voicemail.

Then you're breathing again, quick, sharp puffs of air in and out. Are you dreaming? You squint your eyes shut tightly and pinch your wrist. This has to be a dream. You open your eyes, the same notification illuminating your screen. You're not dreaming.

God presses play on the world, your surroundings slowly returning back to their normal pace around you, your bubble bursting as you frantically pull your phone from its charger, typing in in your passcode at the speed of light and going straight to the neon green cube on your dock. A shaky thumb taps on the voicemail, hitting the speaker button. There are a couple seconds of static, and for a moment you think maybe it was an accident, a butt-dial, a complete misunderstanding. Please let this be an accident.

Key word: moment.

Because as soon as you think you can forget about this, go back to your nightly routine, and have a peaceful sleep, his voice is booming through the speakers, and you're paralyzed again.

"Um... Hi, it's Harry," the ghost of the man you used to know lets out a nervous laugh, "But you knew that didn't yeh? Probably why you didn't answer..." there's silence, two seconds, five seconds, eight. "I'm in Japan. It's noon here, and m'drunk, alone in my hotel room," his voice is deep, raspy, tired. "'Member that ring I gave you? I'm stayin' a couple blocks away from that shop. Y'loved that ring. Think tha' was the last good thing I did."

Your eyes shift to your right hand, the one that's not death-gripping your phone, the one that holds the piece of metal he's referring to. A lump grows in the back of your throat, and suddenly it's becoming harder to stand. You collapse on the edge of your bed and gulp. Tears pool uncontrollably in your eyes, falling onto the robe that now feels like pinecones suffocating you.

"I saw Mark befo' I left. Ran into him at the grocery store," Mark, your co-worker, your friend. Mark didn't tell you he saw Harry. Why didn't he tell you he saw Harry? Why is Harry talking about Mark? Why did Harry call you? Why did Harry leave you a voicemail? "I asked him how you were, and he said you were fine. Are you fine?" No. "Cause I'm not. M'not fine at all."

You shut your eyes in pain, wincing at his words. Waterfalls flood from your eyes, and you hate it. You hate that this is affecting you so much. You hate that he still has a hold on you. You wished you could not care; you wished you could simply say "fuck you forever" and forget him. It's been 6 months since the breakup, and you want more than anything to move on and forget him.

"Love I-" You bite your tongue at the pet name, almost drawing blood. When was the last time he called you that? 'Love'—the equivalent of a knife plunging into your chest again and again. "I fucked up... and I miss you." And again. "God, I miss you so much." And again. "And m'sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." And again. "Th'worst thing I ever did was what I did to you."

You're fully sobbing at this point, your phone thrown across the other end of your bed, his voice slightly muffled by your duvet. Your hands are tangled in your hair, elbows resting on your knee caps, shoulders shaking as you hiccup, wave after wave of his words hitting you. Little do you know, Harry is on the other end of the world doing the exact same thing—hands pulling his hair, hunched over on the edge of his grand suite's expensive mattress, an almost empty bottle of whiskey to his right, tears staining the carpet beneath him.

"And I know this is late. M'a fuckin' idiot for not saying it until now. I just..." He breathes out a sigh, and you pinch your eyes shut even tighter. No, he's drunk. He doesn't mean it. He's drunk. He doesn't mean it. Don't fall for it; you've been doing fine. You're fine... right? "I needed yeh to hear that. Need you to know I'm so sorry for hurting you. I did th'one thing I swore I'd never do."

Relaxing your grip on the roots of your hair, you sit up at his words, the words you have waited to hear him say for six months. Why don't they sweep you off your feet like you imagined? Why don't you feel different? You had thought about this moment over and over, the moment he would finally own up to his mistakes, finally apologize for all the shit he put you through. You imagined him showing up to your doorstep with a dozen sunflowers, your favorite, a speech prepared on how much he still loves you and how much he is sorry for everything. After, you would launch into his open arms, sinking back into his quicksand, enveloped in his love all over again. Everything would fall back into place; you would be whole again. What you didn't expect was a drunken voicemail, making you want to crumble inside yourself until all that is left is a pile of bones, useless. It felt as if there was a surprise epilogue to your joint ending—you were experiencing the break up all over again. What was supposed to give you life, hope was slowly taking it away each second the voicemail continued.

"I'm dying, love." Me too. "Can I still call you that?" No. "M'dying without you. Just... Please call me. Please let me show you how sorry I am. Need to hear y'voice. I'm so sorry. Call me."

His voicemail remains in your phone. You never called him back. You've lost count of the times your finger hovered over his contact name, nearly jumping into the deep end, just for you to take one step backwards on the diving board. One particular night, after taking another step back, you decided to write down everything you wanted to say, everything you wished you knock on his door and scream at him until you lost your voice—all of the heartache, the sorrow, the stress, the hope, the anxiety, every single emotion you felt since it ended. You wrote twenty-two pages. They're now hidden in your bedside table, addressed and stamped, never sent. Harry didn't call you again; that was the last time you heard from him, over a year ago now.

Silence welcomes itself again. Comfortable silence is so overrated.

Shoulder brushing against yours, Harry stands still, digesting your last words. I didn't have anything to apologize for. There was a time when he would have completely disagreed with that statement, clearly, given the lyrics to his last track on his debut album. Then, he would have argued that both of you had dipped your toe in your downfall, each equally responsible for how things crumbled apart. Now, however, he sees how it was him that was in the wrong. He was the one afraid of the commitment you wanted from him—part of him could never fully love you like he wanted to. A couple hundred therapy sessions later, he's sorted his shit out, and he sees just how much shit he put you through, as if someone had sat him down in a theatre, showing him your love story from your perspective. You don't owe him an apology; you were perfect, always giving him your all, every single drop, every single ounce of your love from an endless fountain. He was the one that left. Hewas the one that broke you into small, jagged pieces.

But he's selfish. He still misses you so much. He misses your hand encased in his, your laugh at his terrible jokes, your lips on his cheek, your faint snores that only erupt on Friday nights after a hard week at work, your face buried in his neck, chest on top of his and legs entangled in his on the couch, your finger poking his dimple, your face scrunched in concentration as you painted his nails, your records playing in his house (the ones you said he had to borrow, but if he scratched them, he was a dead man), your hugs (the way you would make him feel itty bitty in your embrace, enveloping him into your open arms after he was away for too long), your mind, always alive and itching for those deep conversations that always arise at midnight in his bed.

That's why he came to the wedding in the first place. He was originally booked to shoot a music video, but he quickly cancelled at the possibility of seeing you here. And that's why when he finally spotted you, off in the distance, speaking into your phone away from the buzzing reception, he knew he had to talk to you. He didn't care if it re-opened closed wounds; he was selfish and he had to talk to you. He missed you.

"Listen-"

"I-" Harry speaks up at the same time you do, beginnings of sentences clashing together. Your eyes meet again, shoulders turned towards each other now. He grins, bunny teeth making an appearance at the mishap regardless of the obvious tension that has invaded the air between the two of you. You envy that trait, his ability to make any situation comfortable and relaxed despite its origin. "You first."

"No, um you go," you mumble out awkwardly, finishing off the remnants of wine in your glass in a rather large gulp to ease the nerves. You know Harry, sometimes better than he knows himself, and you know that he would have never approached you if he didn't have some motive on his own. You had to shut this down—there was no way you could go down this road with him again, not when just this conversation was enough to ruffle your feathers, making you feel like a traitor in your own body, someone you don't even know.

"How 'bout we both go?" There's a cheeky look in his eye, and if you look hard enough you could see a tinge of excitement, hopefulness, "On th'count of three?"

Not daring to quirk upwards, your lips remain straight, and you nod.

"One," You can do it. Just tell him you want to basically forget he exists. "Two," You can do it. Just tell her you still love her. "Three."

Two similar heartbeats.

"I still love you-" Sweet sugar crystals, an honest confession from candy land.

"I think it's best if we don't see each other again." An exploding cannon, sinking his battle ship.

Two entirely different headspaces.

The next morning, you wake up with a massive headache, one that was undoubtedly brewing as you cried yourself to sleep the night prior (it might also have to do with the entire bottle of wine you consumed as soon as you slipped off your heels in your apartment).

You notice it's technically no longer morning when you check your phone, squinting in pain at the sudden brightness, the numbers 1:25 yelling back at you. Thank god it's Saturday; you haven't had a hangover of this intensity since college and there is no way you could possibly go to work like this.

Slowly slipping out of the warmth of your numerous weighted blankets, your socked feet hit the plush carpet, and you bend down and open the bottom drawer of your bedside table. Tied up in a pink bow are four envelopes, addressed and stamped, waiting to be delivered to the man whose hopes you crushed. You reached for the stack, running your fingers along the edges, reading over his name, tracing the letters with your fingertips.

With the letters firm in your grasp, you rush to your front door, making sure to slip on your robe; you don't want anyone to drive by you putting these letters in your mailbox in nothing but a t-shirt and undies, after all.

You're finally doing it, diving into the crystal-clear water that was once forever still. You're going to mail all twenty-two pages, every emotion. This is it, the last period to the epilogue, the ending of this book, the closure the both of you so desperately need.

As you reach for the handle, you pause, noticing the one thing you nearly forgot about—that gold band. You slip the piece of metal off your finger, observing his initials engraved on the inside for the last time. Untying the bow holding the envelopes together, you slide the ring onto one end of the cotton-candy colored ribbon and retie the knot, the ring now attached. Inhale, one moment to reflect. Exhale, one moment to say your final goodbye. You swing open the door, and right before you can make another move, something stops you. Looking down at your doorstep, a bittersweet smile breaks out across your face. He was saying goodbye too.

A dozen sunflowers.

413 notes · View notes

fushiguromi · 4 years

Text

soundtracks — semi eita

synopsis: during your college life, semi eita already likes you. He indirectly confessed his feelings by singing a song to you, but you didn’t realize that the song he sang was his feelings for you.

pairing: semi x fem!reader

genre: fluff; college to timeskip; band au

word count: 3.6k

a/n: all songs and lyrics that are used in this story were my own composition, so i’m sorry if it’s not good HAHAHAHHA well, i tried my best hehe

The sun is up while you grumpily walk around the quadrangle of your school. It’s a hell day for you and you’re exhausted because of the homework, quizzes, and projects that you need to accomplish within a week.

As an honor student, you don’t want to disappoint your parents. You found a bench table beside a tall tree. You sat down and you fixed your hair and wipe your sweats around your face.

This day isn’t going well for you, your favorite sweater almost got ruined by a student that almost spilled a coffee towards you.

You roamed your eyes around. Many students are on the bench tables with their friends laughing and talking.

You took out your books to review for your upcoming quiz tomorrow. You were focusing on studying the book when you heard the strumming of the guitar and a soothing beautiful voice of a man.

Looking annoyed you looked up to see who’s disturbing your study time.

A man with a guitar placed on his elevated thigh singing for his friends. His aura and his looks reminded you of the handsome heartthrob that only knows how to break hearts with just a snap of his fingers.

He was biting his lower lip while his eyes were closed. The way his fingers shifted every time he changed chords and continuously plucking the strings of his guitar amazed you and to think that what his fingers can do to you.

You shook your head immediately because of that thought.

You had seen a lot of people playing with a guitar, but no one looked so passionate and angelic as him. He was like falling in love with music with the way he played each chord to create a melodious sound.

He looked oblivious to his surroundings as he played. Like he has his world just for himself and his guitar.

Music fills the air without effort, the sound rushing in and around every person in the place. Some react to the beat, others continue in chatter.

After his performance, his friends cheered and clapped for him. He just smirked and you didn’t realize that you were smiling widely at him until he looked at you.

“Semi! Your performance was so good!” A girl with short hair said to Semi and clings her arms on his.

Was it double meaning? Wait, what the hell?

You quickly averted your eyes on him and covered your face with the book you were holding earlier.

Until that day, you didn’t see him around the campus. But after he caught your attention, you happened to keep on crossing paths with him.

The next day, you found out that their band is famous around your place because they have gigs every Friday and Saturday at the cafe & bar near your school.

You heard that there is an event that’s happening at the gym tonight, so you went there to watch the battle of the bands. This is your first time to give attention to your school’s event because all you do was to study.

You narrowed your eyes while looking at Semi. They are preparing for the event. He’s holding his guitar while talking to his bandmates.

A lot of people came to the gym to support and watch them. While you stand there, Semi scanned his eyes around and stopped when his eyes met yours.

He looked stunned for a moment but he smiled and quickly averted his eyes.

The event started and you were amazed that a lot of bands participated in this event, but Semi’s band is different than the others.

They were really into it and feels like a concert. They made the stage and crowd theirs, many students cheered for them and the judges even gave them a standing ovation.

You were just smiling and clapping the whole evening, their song covers were on point, so this is what it feels like to watch them play?

You’re doing your essay at the bench table that you found yesterday. It’s peaceful and cloudy outside so you decided to settle there.

While you were typing on your laptop, someone sits down in front of you. Your eyes caught a glimpse of a cool guitar strap and you looked up to see the man yesterday smiling at you.

“You don’t have to be intimidated,” he assured you.

He placed his guitar on the table and you saw that he was also carrying a notebook and a marker.

You stared at him while he’s writing something in his notebook. He felt your gaze on him so he looked up.

“Sorry, am I disturbing you?” He asked while tapping his foot on the ground.

“Uh, no. I’m almost finished with my essay.” You replied. He smiled and nods.

You quickly finished your essay so you can look at him.

You glanced at his handwriting. It looked pretty neat and somehow understandable. You got curious, so you quickly read what he wrote on the page.

Invisible Line

You immediately recalled the lyrics he sang yesterday to his friends and the words written on the notebook was the same lyrics.

“You wrote that song?” You asked him.

“Yes, I did.” He smiled, then turned his head on you. “Did you like it?” You felt your cheeks blushed because you remembered how wide your smile was.

Biting your lower lip, you nodded.

“I sometimes come here to think about and write songs.” He told you. “But right now, I’m having trouble getting inspiration but then I saw you...”

Your lips slightly parted. You could feel your heart beating against your chest so hard. You had crushes with boys, but you never felt this kind of feeling.

You ignore him because you don’t know what to say. He writes so fast but you had a glimpse of the lyrics he was writing.

He grabbed his guitar and placed it on his thigh. He started strumming and looked at his notebook before singing.

We’re close but never together

I have to find a way, to get her next to me

So can we close the space between us now?

The distance that we don’t need

I kept collecting shooting stars

Just to wish for us

She’s everything I need

My safe haven...

He stares at you while he sings but after a while, he closed his eyes and bobbed his head to the sound.

As you stared at him, you realized that the Creator favored him so much that he was given such an attractive look— he has messy ash blonde hair with dark tips, his eyes are brown, perfect naturally trimmed eyebrows, and chiseled jaw.

He ends the song with a beautiful instrumental sound before he opens his eyes and smiled at you.

“What do you think?” He asked you while he put his head on his arm that was on the guitar.

You’re lost for a moment before replying, “I loved it,” you smiled and gave him a thumbs up. He chuckled and nodded his head, contented.

He picks up something from his bag. He suddenly gave out his guitar pick to you.

You only stared at it. You don’t know if you will get it.

“Here, take it.” He urged you. “It’s a thank you gift.” You stared at him confused.

“For what?”

You had no idea why he was giving out his guitar pick as a thank you gift. When you just met each other!

“Thank you for being my inspiration,” he answered. You could feel your cheeks heating up.

He took your hand, laid out your palm, and put his guitar pick there. It was a white guitar pick and it looked like a pearl or marble. There were small letters written on the edge.

S.E

That’s his initials.

“Won’t you be using this?” You asked him, even if you didn’t want to return it.

“Oh, don’t worry. I still have an extra at home.” He replied.

He suddenly holds your hand. Your hand rested on his palm, while he removed the lid of his pen using his mouth. He was drawing something on his guitar pick.

You felt like losing your sanity as you stared at the pick he gave you three years ago. The small heart he drew beside his initials was still there.

You didn’t see him again after that. You tried to go out again to the bench table a few times, but you didn’t see him at all.

Every time you’re stressed or sad, you would listen to the song inside your head. You engraved it in your memory the way he sings it.

I want to cross the line for her

But fate doesn’t want me to

I’ll just stare at her from afar

Even if it hurts...

“Zero Effect’s new album becomes the new best-selling album for the alternative rock band...”

Your eyes widened and you stopped what you’re doing when you heard a very familiar voice and song. It made you feel so nostalgic.

You looked up to the monitor in front and saw the news with a music video of the song playing through the speakers of the cafe.

It’s him! After three years... you finally saw him. Even through the screen.

Your heart gone wild and beating so loudly that you thought it would break.

“Semi Eita..” You whispered his name, after reading a piece of information about him and his band. “Zero Effect...”

You didn’t know how many times you watched their music video after you got home. You couldn’t stop yourself smiling.

You decided to check their social media accounts. Zero Effect have eight hundred thousand followers and it was following all the band members' accounts.

You followed them all before stalking Semi’s account. He had over five hundred thousand followers already.

His pinned tweet was a tweet that was promoting their latest album and his recent tweet was a picture of him and his bandmates.

@ZeroEffectJP

The interview video of Zero Effect’s ‘Fading Polaroid’ album is out now!

youtube./ZEfadingpolaroid

#ZeroEffectFPOutNow

There was a video link for their interview about the concept of their new album. You clicked on it.

The Zero Effect’s members appeared on the screen with the interviewer.

Your eyes immediately focused on Semi. He was wearing a sweater with like a blazer that’s fuzzy and a cross pendant necklace.

“We have here with us, the rising alternative rock band, Zero Effect!” The interviewer announced, and the members clapped their hands while smiling widely.

“Introduced yourselves first before we start our interview.”

“Hello, I’m Eita, the lead vocalist and guitarist of Zero Effect.”

You clapped your hands so hard after he was done with his introduction. You felt so proud. He was just a teenage boy before making music at school and make gigs on the weekends.

“Hi everyone! I’m Ryo, the bass guitarist.” He smiled at the camera and wink.

“What’s up? Hi! I’m Eiji, the leader, and keyboardist of Zero Effect.” Among the four of them, he’s the more serious and uptight one.

“Hellooo!! I’m Shiro, the drummer of the band.” He waved at the camera and smiled.

You laughed. The drummer always had that different effect than the others.

Whenever Semi smiles, you would pause the video to screenshot it. He looked so dashing.

After their introduction, the interviewer asked them questions about their album and personal life.

“So Eiji, how did you four meet?”

“We met during our college days,” Eiji answered. “We play as a band since then and we also had our gigs on the weekends.”

“Oh, okay so well, let’s talk about your new album!” The interviewer shifted the topic, “can you say something about that, Eita?”

Nodding his head, Semi looked at the interviewer. “Well, our first mini album is entitled Fading Polaroid. It contains five songs, and it is about lost love. It is an alternative rock ballad, which is composed and arranged by all of us.” He explained the concept of their album.

“There’s this one song called Invisible Line on the album that makes the fangirls, you know, like mixed emotions because of its lyrics. What is it about?” The interviewer got curious as she looked at Semi.

“Uh, okay..” he said awkwardly, “I wrote it three years ago.”

Your lips parted. You recalled that song because he sang it to you before.

“It’s about liking someone but the two of you can’t be together because there’s this invisible line between you two, but the guy wants to be with the girl.” He said, then smiled slightly.

“What inspires you to write that song? If there is?” She asked.

“Uhmm.. Yes, there is..” he said hesitantly.

Realizations hit you and your lips parted.

“I met this girl at our school where we used to study before,” he started talking about that day. “I always see her but I don’t have enough courage to walk up and talk to her, but one day I saw her smiled while I sing and that’s when I tried to open up to her.”

You stared at him while he talked about that day. You didn’t even know that the song he sang was for you.

“Oh.. So, you wrote that song for a girl, huh?” She teased Semi and made it sound scandalous.

“Yes, you can say that.” Semi answered and shifted on his seat.

“Did this girl get to hear the song?” She asked more.

“Yeah, she did.” Semi nodded his head a bit. “But only the chorus part.”

“Semi... I heard it now.” You told him through the screen. “I love it so much that it makes my heart hurt.”

“Do you still have contact with the girl?”

Semi shook his head, “I... I tried to but I don’t know how.” He explained and it made your eyes widened.

“Oh, then why don’t you use this chance to send a message to her?” The interviewer looked so excited as she looked at Semi.

His bandmates laughed, teasing him. They were urging him to look at the camera and do what the interviewer asked him to.

You don’t know what to do now as you looked at him on the screen. Your heart just doesn’t stop racing.

“Uhmm.. Hello?” His bandmates snickered beside him.

Semi already stared at the camera and spoke, “If you’re watching this, thank you for inspiring me to write songs,” he said and you felt your eyes are burning.

“Wherever you are right now, I hope you’re doing well and happy and I hope the song that I wrote for you can make you feel what I’m trying to say for you.” His bandmates clapped so hard and they were cheering for him.

Your lips curled upwards and nodded. The interview continued but you couldn’t focus because of Semi.

You had never idolized someone so much in your life. But at that moment, you were determined to support the band in any way.

Your hands trembled as you looked at the screen of your laptop. You just purchased a VIP ticket for Zero Effect’s meet and greet that will be happening today.

It was a surprise announcement for the fans. You’re glad that you immediately saw the announcement and instantly got a ticket.

There were only ten people that will occupy the VIP seats. Your lucky to be the one who got the last ticket.

As time passes by, you’re feeling nervous. What if he will not recognize you?

He’s an artist now, and you’re just his fan.

You’re driving towards the venue and you feel your heart beating so loud. You parked outside and showed your ticket to the guard.

When you got inside, you sat down on the chair for the VIPs and the stage is now fixed. There are guitars, mic stands, a piano, and a drum set.

The venue immediately filled up with Zero Effect’s fans and the chattering was so loud until a woman announced that the meet and greet will begin shortly.

“Okay! Let’s welcome, Zero Effect!” The woman said.

“We’ll be singing our second song from our album called Miss Sweater.” Ryo, their bass guitarist said and suddenly there’s a loud sound coming from the drums.

She said she likes my song

With a smile on her face

Oh, the way her bright eyes looks at me

Makes my heart shakes

The smiles she gives are so contagious

Now, she’s moving close (moving close)

My heart is racing

Head to toe, you know she’s dressed to kill

Semi looked over the crowd. There must have been at least two hundred people watching him, bathing in the dim different colors of lights of the venue, as he clutched tightly to his guitar. Pumping the music through his veins as he lost himself in the performance.

Nerves were trying to take over your body, as you stared at him up close. Eventually, he lost all sense of everything except for the music, it flows through his veins and swirls in his head. It makes his fingers strums and his foot tap.

His velvet voice brings the lyrics, the music is his external heartbeat and the lyrics are your soul in sweet vibrations.

It’s her mouth and those lips

I want to taste ‘em

It’s her eyes and her face

I want to stare ‘em

Can’t tame my heart alone

When she’s this close

Can we stop the time?

Where are we leading now?

The feelings, all of it is right there, when in that momentary exchange of glances when your eyes met and you smiled to him.

He seemed lost for a moment looking at you but he returned the smile, not leaving his eyes on you. So though the world may love their music, their words and their songs, music really only lives in those intense moments of love.

After the short performance, you lined up for the meet and greet. You became nervous as the line moves. And after nine people, it’s your turn now.

You walked to the other members, the first one is Ryo, the bass guitarist. He looked up to look so surprised.

“Hi! Your name is?” He asked while he took your hand to shake. You gave out the album for him to sign.

“Y/n. I really love your music.” While he signs the album he can’t stop stealing glances from you.

“Really? Well, someone is always inspired to compose,” he smirked. “Anyway, thank you for attending here today, I appreciated it.” He smiled and his eyes disappeared and you chuckled.

He stopped smiling as you smiled, “you look pretty while smiling.” Your eyebrows were raised because of what he said.

“Thank you..” that’s the only thing you said and moved on to their keyboardist, Eiji.

“Hello! Wow, that shirt is so cute! Nice choice.” He pointed at your shirt and laughed. You looked at your shirt with their chibi faces. You chuckled and give him the album.

“Yeah, you looked cute here.” You teased him. He immediately coughed, “thank you..” he looked carefully to the side where Semi was.

One more and then you will finally talk to Semi.

“Good Afternoon! How are you?” Shiro, the band’s drummer asked you while signing their album.

“Hello! I’m fine.” He finally looked up and his eyes widened. He quickly looked at Semi but averted his eyes.

“Uhm... Thank you for coming. Hope to see you, uh, soon, Y/n..” He blabbered and you looked at him surprised because he knows your name.

You suddenly got pushed by a woman who excitedly greets the band’s drummer. The guard blocked the girl’s way and kicked her outside because she came back again after her turn.

Your eyes met with Semi who instantly stand up, eyes widened, and looked so lost for a moment. You stared at him and feel the rush of blood to your cheeks.

“Y/n...” He whispered, but you quickly heard it and smiled at him.

“Uh, hello? Long time no see, Semi.” You said nervously. He shook his head to come back to his senses.

He pulled your hand but stopped when he felt something there. He looked at your palm and saw his guitar pick that he gave you.

“You still have it,” he mumbled. You nodded at him. He pulled your hand to go to their tent. You looked at his muscled back and broad shoulders.

“Do you still remember me?” He asked you while he sat down on the chair. He pulled one on his side and tapped it for you to sit down.

“Of course, Semi. You’re the one who liked me back in college..” you chuckled because he looked so shy when you said that.

“Well, yeah. I indirectly confessed to you buy singing the song I wrote for you.” You pursed your lips to prevent smiling.

“I’m so stupid for not realizing it.” He smiled and pouted before averting his eyes when you looked at him.

“So, what will happen to us now?” You asked. He turned his head at you fast.

“What do you mean us? Do you even like me?” He narrowed his eyes at you.

You looked at him straight in the eyes, “I started liking you when we were in college, right when you sang that song for me. But after that, you left.” You explained and he bit his lower lip before standing up.

“I left because I need to fix something first before proving to you that you deserve me. But fate has different plans for me so...” he said and pulled your elbow. He carefully put his chin on top of your head while he wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m sorry that we never happened before,” he sadly said, “but we can start all over again. Right this time.” You pushed him away to look at him.

Your heart was pounding so loudly as you stare at him. Slowly, you nodded. He smiled and hugs you.

“You are the soundtrack of my life, keeps me moving and passionate, and whenever our song plays, you are there, reminding me that you’re whispering in my ears...” You hugged him tightly and felt your eyes tearing up.

You only keep humming while he sings the song he wrote for you. He gently placed his hands on your waist, stared at you before he kissed your forehead.

BONUS:

71 notes · View notes

lieblingspulli · 3 years

Text

The Final Lily

w.c: 3.8k

Jungkook x OC

Summary: Jungkook is a musical, artistic and Nighttime sky deity that falls in love with a mortal author. To keep her safe, he stays away and gives her gifts in order to make her dreams come true, even far after she has become a legendary playwright and has passed.

Masterlist!

The theater began to feel stuffy as people piled into their seats. All Jungkook could hear was the elite of Paris chatting away and the usual theater conversations. Jungkook wiped away some sweat from the back of his neck. It was hot in here.

Being packed in a theater like rats with the sweatiest people Jungkook had ever seen was not on his itinerary for today. He had seen marvels that no one had ever seen before and yet he was here sitting next to a Vicomte and his wife who sweat like pigs. Jungkook was disgusted. He tried to hide it. Jungkook wasn’t here to converse with sweaty nobility, he was here for a play. Or more so a retelling of a poem. A really long one.

The French nobility around him seemed to ignore him entirely, which meant his disguise was working. He had begged for Jin to cloak him so that he was not noticeable tonight. Tonight was deeply important to him and Jin knew why.

Jungkook recalled his conversation with Jin earlier. He was unsure about how Jin would react.

“Are you sure you want to go down there in your state Jungkook? They can see you and immediately recognize you from a mile away.” Jin looked at him, uneasy about this whole thing.

“Jin, you know I have to. Today is too special for me not to.” Jungkook pleaded and gave Jin his doe eyes. “I haven’t missed this day for almost four thousand years. I can’t do this without your help.”

“Yoongi would get mad at me for letting you sneak down there, looking so obvious. You can’t just pop up in the middle of Paris and expect not to be seen in a dark theater when you’re literally glowing Jungkook.”

Jungkook felt the frustration building in his throat and huffed.

“I won’t get caught, I promise. Really!” He waited a second and stared at Jin pleadingly who was looking a great deal uncomfortable with the prospect of letting the younger god just waltz into a human packed space when he was at the peak of his power. Jungkook knew this. He knew the dangers of going out like this, and he knew Jin knew it too. He grimaced and pleaded with his eyes to Jin as he could see the wheels turning in Jin’s head.

“I swear to myself, if you get caught, you never asked me, okay? This is so dangerous, you don’t even know how much trouble I would get in if Yoongi found out.” Jin nervously bit his fingers and gestured to nowhere in particular. Jungkook just grinned and ran out.

As the theater filled and people in unnecessary frilly dresses took their seats, Jungkook gripped the theater ticket in his hands. He felt empty, even with this ticket in his hand. He should have been happy, but he wasn’t. Jungkook stared at the title of the play for a good ten minutes before the lights started to dim and it took his vision of the ticket away from him. Jungkook heard the presenter say something in French, but he didn’t bother to learn the language so it just sounded like curly language to him. He wished he did learn it though, he wanted to hear all the praises that his Asteria would have cried over. He wanted to commit every single one to memory so that maybe one day, he could tell her how many people loved her work. Jungkook frowned and tried to keep his tears in. His heart ached but it was too early for that. Taking a deep breath, he looked up and focused on the curtain opening as two people (clearly actors) were positioned by a fake pond and started their scene.

The next two hours were like a blur for Jungkook. He knew every single word of this poem, every single breath, every single tear and every single kiss. He knew the words by heart and he knew what each cue meant. He could even give Namjoon a run for his money if he told him that he knew the exact pace at which each sentence should be spoken. Jungkook may have been a patron of writing and inspired many great writers, but none moved him as much as this piece did. This piece felt like it was for his eyes only, and Jungkook was angry that it outlived the person who should be right next to him, watching the actors say their lines with joy. The stillness of the theater felt strange, it was hot and stuffy, but each person focused intently on the actors who were fake crying and fake admiring the water. He studied everyone’s face when the main lead met her love and asked about her gifts. He smiled when everyone else did at the scene where the lead, whose name was Isidora, finally got to kiss the man who led her to happiness. Jungkook loved every part of this play.

Isadora’s eyes glinted in the theater spotlight and suddenly she was gleaming with joy. Jungkook’s unintentional aura had made her gleam like moonlight and the play was phenomenal because of it. Every careful line was read by her actor with vigor and drama, eager to show the audience the power of love. Agapinor, Isadora’s lover read his lines with fervor. Jungkook studied their faces for a while before their scene was over, not listening to their words anymore.

He knew why the lead’s name was Isidora, and it made him smile with joy but also cry tears of grief. Isidora was Greek for ‘the gift of the moon’. This poem was supposed to be a gift of the moon but really, it was a gift for him. It was a gift for the moon. Jungkook clutched his ticket tighter as he watched Isidora be ripped away from her love and never see him again. The ending always made him emotional. He could hear the sweaty nobles gasp and he almost regretted coming here. It was always like this and had been for centuries. Jungkook quickly left before the lights even turned on in the theater, away from those smelly people and snobby politicians. Away from his gift and away from the words of his love.

Jungkook briskly walked out, careful not to bump into anybody and attract attention to himself. It was enough that the full moon made him practically glow, but his presence at the theater had calmed everybody and made them emotional. He needed to leave before he was spotted. His heart burned and his eyes stung, but he made it to the edge of the brick ledge, overlooking the canal. In the water’s reflection he could see the point of the Eiffel tower, a metal marvel that amazed him every time he saw it. Jungkook thought Yoongi would have liked to see it, but Yoongi wasn’t the type to roam the streets of Paris, or any other city for that matter. He was firmly against human contact and had stayed away for centuries from them. The last time Yoongi graced Earth was when he had to come down and fix Taehyung’s last great flood near Sparta. That was also the last time he had seen Yoongi so mad. Jungkook shuddered at the thought.

He kept staring at the Eiffel tower and eventually he could see little specks in the sky, reflected from the water. It always happened like this. The play and then the meteors. Jungkook wanted to catch every meteor and cradle them in his arms. He wanted to see her again. A silver droplet landed in the water and made the canal water clear up a little. Jungkook continued to observe the blurry specks until he looked up and saw them clearly, despite his tears. The moon seemed to shine a little brighter and the meteors sparkled beautifully in the clear night sky. Jungkook decided it was time to go and see them for real now. He walked away from the ledge and pulled his trench coat a little tighter in.

Jungkook materialized behind a big oak tree that had been there for millenia. It was a very old oak tree, it should have withered long ago. But it was also a gift for him. Namjoon had perfectly preserved this grove in its entirety. The flowers here bloomed at the same time every year for hundreds of years. The grass never withered and the trees stayed green. The Mediterranean climate helped preserve the flora and fauna and Namjoon had even kept the pond the same for many years. It held the same beauty as it did when Jungkook was first led here. Even in the middle of the 17th century, this sacred place had remained untouched. Jungkook felt the cool breeze of the night and saw the same meteors he had seen earlier streak the sky with glittering white specks. Asteria would have loved to see the natural beauty of her special spot.

Tears welled up in Jungkook’s eyes as he carefully sat on the grass next to her pond. Little silver fish swam away from him as he touched a finger to the surface of the cool water. He tucked his sandaled feet under his thighs and crossed his legs over each other, careful not to pull the fabric of his chiton and so that the object he held in his hands could rest in his lap.

“I’m back for you my love.” Jungkook said to nobody. “Can I read to you? Just as you would to me, do you remember?” He managed to choke out, suddenly short of breath. The trees rustled with the slight breeze, but no answer. Jungkook was here alone, he knew that. But he still felt like he wasn’t. So he talked freely here, the only time he could talk to her with his real voice. Jungkook looked at the dartfish and nodded, ready to read.

He carefully opened the leather cover of his book and saw the charcoal markings inside the rough cover. This was the original book he had made her sign. In the bright moonlight, the leather and worn paper seemed gray rather than a faded brown. This relic was older than many buildings here, even older than the pantheon on the hill of Athens. It was made of real goat leather and rough scroll paper, made by artisans in her time. Jungkook ran his fingers along the paper and felt all the rough bumps. He didn’t touch the writing, afraid the charcoal would smudge as if it were fresh. He flipped the page and read the first lines of the book in his mind. He started to read out loud after he cleared his throat and wasn’t afraid anymore. His Asteria’s writing always made him less afraid. He read the first page and remembered her voice reading it. He breathed life into her words as she once did when she was creating them. Jungkook’s voice hitched at the end of the page when he read the same words Asteria had written as she began to voice her ambitions out loud. He could close his eyes and remember it like it was yesterday.

“I hope these words reach people outside of this small little village. I want them to be as famous as the classics.” Asteria whispered to herself as she scribbled some words in her newly bound book. Jungkook wanted to shout to her, “You will! I’ll make it so!” But he couldn’t. He couldn’t speak, so he only looked at her longingly from behind a thick tree, as if his words in his mind could reach her. But they didn’t. He watched Asteria continue to scribble on her first page of the book he had left for her.

“I also wonder if I’ll ever meet the man who left me these gifts. I hope it’s not Pheobos. His manners are worse than a pig’s. I want this man to be handsome and kind and loving. I hope I’ll get to see him someday.” She sighed out and shamelessly looked at the fish in the pond with longing. Jungkook was left with little restraint and wide eyes. She was so unabashed about what she wanted, he loved it. He wanted to give her everything she wanted and more. He wanted to love her better than any man could. Better than that Pheobos could anyway. Her tiny voice continued on with her proclamations.

“I probably shouldn’t be saying this but please, if anyone is out there and listening, Aphrodite, maybe? Let me see this man at least once in my life.” Asteria stopped writing and relaxed her shoulders as she watched the clear sky. “I want to see the man I’ve fallen in love with.” Her golden brown hair flew in the wind and it shined like golden thread. The breeze quickly died and she patiently stared at the glittering blue ocean, visible from her pond.

These words made Jungkook’s breath hitch and his heart flutter. His face felt warm and his ears, he knew, were red. He wanted so badly to just run out and say, “Here I am!” Jungkook listened in painful silence as Asteria waited for a sign, but Hobi had made the day too good, and nothing made a noise, not even with the wind. Jungkook wanted to throw a pebble or something to convince her that he was there and he would always be there. Asteria sighed and continued to write.

Jungkook clutched the book tightly but quickly let go in fear that it would crumble into ashes. He could feel his face still warm from his memory and he could remember how warm her presence had made him. Her entire being had comforted him, he wistfully wished for that again. He was afraid that his memories would turn to ashes along with his book, so he held it as if he were to hold her, never to let go. Jungkook squeezed his eyes as he let his tears run down his face and onto his hands. The silver droplets quickly disappeared and if anything, they made more meteors fall. He could feel the cool breeze caress his warm cheeks as if to comfort him, saying no more tears. He choked on his tears that quickly turned to sobs.

Everything in Jungkook told him that Asteria was his love and his only. Out of the millennia of him being alive, he only truly felt alive with her in his presence. Her warm smile and golden skin made him fall in love with her every time he pictured her in his mind. Her soft, delicate hands were made to write and he loved to see them work their magic. He fell in love with every part of her, from her fingers to her peach colored lips, to her eyes that held the stars. Jungkook could hear her laugh every time she smiled and he could hear it echo in his mind as he imagined her receiving the first copy of her book. He could remember her jumping excitedly as the publisher congratulated her for it. Her excited giggles were fresh in his mind as he sat here, centuries later without her.

Jungkook vividly remembered the touch of her fingers on his as they both reached for the pen she had dropped. When she looked at him, in his disguise of course, he had memorized the map of her face, the glint in her eyes and the beauty marks on her cheeks. He could paint a perfect picture of her just with his memories alone. Her insistent laugh as she apologized for being so unlady-like had been seared into his brain. Her tears had been solidified in his memories. Jungkook sobbed as he watched the meteors fall in grace. The moon mocked him with it’s glow. The meteors fell so beautifully against the midnight sky and the constellations his brothers had created that he wanted to snatch them and throw them into the ocean. Jungkook wanted to make her his. He wanted to bring her back and he wanted to show her the wonders of this new world. He wanted her to love him and he wanted to love her. He wanted to love her sunkissed fingers and her high cheekbones and her curly baby hairs and her smooth neck. He wanted to melt into her touch instead of his puddle of misery. He wanted to beg Taehyung and Jin to bring a soul back to life, even though none of them had the power to do so. He would traverse the planes of his own existence to bring her back. He would do anything for her gaze again.

Jungkook took a shaky breath and let the book float in his hands as it dematerialized into the space he called home. It would show up in his room later. Hands now empty of her writing, he felt uneasy again. Some tears made his vision blurry and he had cried enough times to know not to touch them or else it would make his eyes burn. His tears were supposed to heal him, as moonlight droplets usually would, but he found that his tears for her never did. They seemed to make his eyes burn and his heart hurt even more. Jungkook continued to observe this space, it’s natural beauty and the meteors that fell for her. He continued to wonder if he would ever see her again, in vain. Jungkook never got to hold her or kiss her or even tell her he loved her, but he just wished that she didn’t die feeling unloved. He loved her passionately and deeply, he stored her memories in his heart and locked them away for days like these. He seemed to find her face in every painting that Namjoon showed him. He found her words in every book he read.

Looking back down at the pond and the reflection of the stars in her pond, he finally spoke to her.

“I wish you were here to see how much you’ve come to be known.” The fish were startled by his voice. “I just wish I could have shown my true face to you, and loved you how you were. I wish I could have kept you with me forever.” Jungkook’s words died in the still air and he felt a tear slide down his chin once again. The meteors had slowed down and the moon was beginning to shift with the time he spent here. He never wanted to leave. He was so attached to this silly little pond, he felt like sleeping here if he could.

“Please say something.” Jungkook whispered. Nothing answered back.

The oak tree branches rustled with the slight breeze and he suddenly felt the chill. Asteria’s warmth was no longer here. Jungkook took this as a sign to leave.

As Jungkook leaned to push himself up off the ground, he spotted something glowing white in the moonlight. It caught his eye instantly, the object seemed to sparkle in the little moonlight that was left. He only realized what it was when he crawled over to it, careful not to block the moonlight.

Blossoming in front of his own two eyes was a delicate flower. It’s petals were soft, just like Asteria’s lips. The glowing white color brought Jungkook to the verge of tears. He trembled, afraid to kill it if he touched it. But he gently touched it anyway.

Right in the same spot that Jungkook watched his Asteria write her books for years was a delicate and fully blossomed white Lily. It’s leaves were strong and healthy, it’s petals soft and delicate. The strong floral scent of the lily hit Jungkook so hard, it brought him to full sobs again. The flower blossomed in the direction of the pond, but Jungkook felt like it was facing him, telling him it was okay. The healthy petals and yellow pollen spoke to him. They told him that this was it, without any words. Jungkook knew this was a sign and he sobbed into his hands, hating that he knew what it meant.

He knew that Asteria lived a long and good life. He wanted her to, so he protected her like a flower blossoming in his garden. Even after she was married and had kids, he left a white lily for her every day on this spot. Even when she stopped coming to their spot, he left her a blossom. Even after she was gone, he came here and left her a lily every day. Soon enough, he stopped coming too, too cowardly to face his grief of losing her. He could no longer see her or feel her warmth, so he no longer left her flowers. But this blossom, growing from this unchanging dirt that had stayed the same for centuries, it was for him. He could feel it. He somehow sensed that she knew he left her those things. This flower was proof. Jungkook softly caressed the petals and a silver teardrop fell on the ground beside it, making the soil become dark with fertility.

Jungkook sighed and furrowed his brows hard. Namjoon had taught him to manifest flowers eons ago, even if he did not have the power to do so. He felt like he had to, for Asteria. He needed to leave a sign for her spirit, so she could rest in peace. He needed to say something to her finally for the first time. So he tried.

Carefully Jungkook shifted himself to the space next to her flower and held his shaky hands just above the soil. Using the still fertile soil, he concentrated long and hard, imagining the scent and exact color of his new blossom. As he held his breath, he lifted his hands in a slow upward motion and felt a soft stem poke his palm. Jungkook opened one eye and saw a flower growing right before his eyes. In a matter of seconds his flower had opened and bloomed a bright orange lily with black specks on it’s petals.

The fertile soil and his heightened abilities had made the stem thick and strong, the petals seemed hearty. They gleamed with the bright moonlight. Jungkook admired his work and noticed that a vine off the stem had grown over to the white lily and curled around it’s stem. Jungkook’s burning eyes welled with more tears and he shifted his weight back onto his feet while sitting on his knees. This would be his final goodbye for her. A final gift to his other half. A final testament of his love, these blossoms would live eternally in this Eden of theirs. Jungkook slowly got up and willed the rest of his energy into one last star that shined bright in the sky. The closest one to the moon, he willed it to shine brighter than any other star in his night sky. Jungkook’s tears flowed freely as he walked away from his memory of her forever.

#Jungkook #bts #oc #deity #namjoon #yoongi #hobi #jin #jimin #taehyung

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cayenne-twilight · 4 years

Note

Hi! If you're still taking fanfic requests, could you maybe write something with Clive and Dimitri? Maybe them talking and/or reconciling after they get out of prison, or maybe something while they were working on Future London together. Just something sort of friendshippy :D I'm cool with or without angst, whatever works best for the story. If you don't want to do it though or aren't inspired, that's okay ^^ Thanks for offering to do requests!

Rain pelted down from the overcast sky like needles, piercing the cobbles. Each drop caused a tiny shockwave splash before joining the river snaking down the street, rushing to the lowest point where it poured into a drain like a drove of lemmings. The drab greys and blues cast a mute darkness over London, chilling the air. Not like “nice” weather would make much of a difference, Dimitri thought. He shook his umbrella under the hooded bus stop, pointing it as far away from himself as possible. Despite the canopy, both the walls and the seats were somehow drenched, so he stood isolated.

Dimitri grumbled. These damn buses and their complete disregard for people’s time. They came of their own accord.

“What else is new?”

Dimitri looked over his shoulder, poorly masking surprise. Clive was leaning against the opposite side of the plexiglass panel, outside the bus stop, with no umbrella. His hair stuck to his forehead in strands.

“I didn’t see you get here.”

“I know.”

Dimitri looked him up and down. “You’re setting yourself up for one hell of a cold.”

Clive didn’t move, looking down the street rather than at Dimitri’s eyes. “I like it; it’s refreshing.”

The rain didn’t let down, bringing with it a distant crack of thunder and the ceaseless pattering of thousands of droplets smacking into the pavement. Dimitri watched the drops on the bus stop wall inch closer together before merging and streaming downward, immediately replaced by new ones. Clive’s heavy woolen coat absorbed the ones that wound towards it like a mop. He never took care of his clothes.

“They’ve started building the tunnels for the underground system,” Clive said. “And laying down foundations here and there.”

“Are you ever going to tell me where you got the money for this?”

“Nope. You know we want the same thing, so what does it matter? See, I was thinking, what if we made some of the buildings nothing but facades like those on movie sets? There’s no use building more houses than there will be people, and we can cut back on plumbing and insulation and whatnot.”

“Sure, that sounds reasonable, but I don’t see what it has to do with me. More importantly, what is it you want? Unless this is the oddest money laundering scheme of the century, nobody but you would pour this much money into a large-scale, dubious time experiment. You wish to reverse fate, I presume?”

Clive’s back was turned, but Dimitri saw him shift ever so slightly. Clive removed his hands from his pockets, crossing his arms, and looked over his shoulder, smiling.

“I trust in the success of your endeavors, Dimitri. Or rather, I trust in your expertise as a man of science.”

Dimitri met his eye. Clive made sure to hold eye contact just long enough before turning his back again, erasing his smile a smidge too soon.

Dimitri braced his closed umbrella against a gush of wind, spraying cold mist into his face. This would be the perfect moment for the bus to arrive. Any second now. Wind and rain were a bad combination.

“I’ll need to speak with you later to make sure you procure the exact materials I’ll need; even a bolt of the wrong size could send this project to the dogs. Say, why don’t I just come with you? That would simplify everything greatly.”

“You must be awfully busy. I’m willing to do what you need me to, but if you really want to come along, I won’t stop you.”

“I do. As soon as possible.”

A hint of annoyance tugged at Clive’s lip. “I’ll have to, er, reschedule my own affairs if that’s the case, but no matter. We’ll get you what you need.”

“...thank you.”

“You know, Clive,” Dimitri continued, “I’d quite like to get to know you outside of this whole business.”

“Really.”

“Really. How odd is it to barely know the man so kindly sponsoring one’s, if I dare call it so, passion project. I know nothing about you.”

“Odd. I’ve commissioned several restaurants to be built, so you can take your pick, but I hear one of your team members has a husband who’s a rather talented chef. He plans on opening a place called Chez Paillard in the arcade by the new hotel, which would be my first choice.”

“What’s stopping us from going somewhere on the surface? Surely they aren’t fully booked months in advance, unlike your underground reservations.”

“Ah I hadn’t even thought of it. I really need to get my sleeping schedule in check.”

Dimitri wasn’t one to pay attention to these things, but now that Clive mentioned it, he began to see the pure exhaustion present in his mannerisms. Perhaps he was focusing to the point of fabricated observations, but Clive’s hands seemed to shake ever so slightly as he pushed his wet bangs back.

A screech of metal rang out, preceding the puffing noise of brakes. Finally. The bus unceremoniously swung its flimsy doors open, revealing the tracks left by the wet shoes of strangers. Dimitri boarded gingerly so as not to slip, and went straight for the nearest open seat. Clive followed suit, paying for them both, and sat by his side. He rubbed his hands together vigorously.

“Are you alright?” Dimitri asked.

Clive tried to pull an unconvincing smirk across chattering teeth. “Of course.”

“You’re a real idiot.”

Clive narrowed his eyes, but didn’t protest, hugging himself and looking past Dimitri, out the window.”

Dimitri slouched, holding his umbrella between his legs like a cane. Reversing fate...

#professor layton #clive dove #dimitri allen #layton series #layton #professor layton fanfiction #professor layton spoilers #professor layton fanfic #pl #long post #I am so sorry bro you sent me that request in like June or something yikes for me #*feeble ta-da*#ct writes #posted to AO3 as well

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chrisgiuliano · 4 years

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Imaginary & Real Cities

I’ve been reading Darran Anderson’s Imaginary Cities for a while now and am really enjoying it. I picked it up from a local used bookstore maybe in March or April of last year. It had a cool cover and an intriguing title, and the back cover description stated that it talks about possible and impossible cities, past cities, dream cities and future cities in a lucid, non-linear way and takes a lot of inspiration from one of my favorite books ever, Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino.

The book’s been a lot to keep up with, as the amount of references and the lack of an index (though supposedly it’s on the website) can be enough to make your head spin. It’s caused me to start reading Plato’s The Republic, which I attempted but eventually gave up on in high school as well as Lewis Mumford’s The City In History, which has sat on my shelf for more than a year without so much as being cracked open. It also has me wanting to do a deeper dive into movies that use cities as characters or portray cities in a certain way, namely BladeRunner and some of the other futuristic/Sci-Fi/dystopia movies that are mentioned in the book, even though I’m not much of a fan of Sci-Fi.

One of the more interesting sections is where he mentions a few movies that were made in the 1920′s that serve as sketches of cities, They are Berlin: Symphony of a Metropolis, Lewis Mumford’s The City and Dziga Vertov’s Man with a Movie Camera (which is probably the most fun to watch with its weird camera angles and self-awareness/righteousness). Through some Wikipedia searching, I found that Charles Sheeler and Paul Strand made a similar film about New York called Manhatta. In all of these, the focal point is a day in the life of a city, with minimal or no narrative or explanation.

Berlin: Symphony of a Metropolis

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The City

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I’ve now seen all of them. I actually saw the Mumford one sometime last year. The differences between the cities are fascinating and they say a lot about what those cities were like at the time of their filming. In Berlin, the primary activities that the director focuses on are the daily commute, the ritual of shops opening and the daily laborers of the city. There’s important emphasis on the new train networks and a lot of street poetry, documentations of chance (or maybe planned) interactions that show the thousands of urban possibilities, the multitude of things that might happen when you live in a place where hundreds of thousands of people are clustered together. Both of the New York films, on the other hand (including Manhatta and one section of Mumford’s The City) are much more focused on buildings and architecture, emphasizing New York’s new-ness and metropolitan verve. Both Berlin and New York clearly emanate a certain energy in these films, though the New York moments show a city busy with the activity of building itself up, a process which would not stop for quite a while, more or less right up to its near-bankruptcy in the 70′s. Berlin, of course, would face its day of reckoning and need to re-build substantially after the second war, but it escaped WWI largely unscathed, at least as far as I know. The director of the Berlin film is much more concerned with the micro activity of the city as opposed to the macro activity that seemed so important to anybody observing New York at the same time. On the other hand, the cities portrayed in Man with a Movie Camera are the Soviet cities of Kiev, Moscow, Odessa and Kharkov. It’s a telling portion of Soviet/Russian history, as the movie was made only a few years after Lenin’s death and the cities are awash in messages about workers and the proletariat, devoid of the blatant totalitarianism of the Stalin era that Americans most often associate with the Soviet Union and the Russians. It’s no doubt an interesting glimpse of what life might have been like had Lenin not died an early death at 54, a point which Anderson himself makes in the book and which I had never quite considered before. The Soviet cities of that era were primarily concerned with industrialization, and the film makes that more than clear in the powerful shots of smokestacks, trains, coal mines, factories and bars and theaters adorned with the word “Proletarian”.

As always, I’m most fascinated by New York (probably because I used to live there) and I can’t imagine what seeing New York for the first time in the 1920′s must have felt like. Lucky for us, we have Metropolis, which Fritz Lang said was inspired by his first impressions of New York as he came in on a boat, according to Anderson. I imagine it must have felt something like my first time in East Asia, where the newer cities have such a vibrant energy that they make American cities look like quiet little hamlets by comparison.

I was really excited when I saw that Manhattan was made Charles Sheeler and Paul Strand, both artists whom I admire and have even written about on this blog before. I can’t imagine any duo better equipped to document New York on film in those days, as they were pioneers of the Precisionism movement which devoted a large amount of its energy to documenting the changing state of the American city. I only wish they might have made a follow up to this film a decade or so later when the great Art Deco towers of Midtown started racing each other towards the sky. I also wish we had these sorts of urban documentaries of the Soviet cities and Berlin after the second World War. The importance of capturing a place over time is part of why I take photographs - though I don’t expect that my photos will serve as an exhaustive historical record, the visual documentation of the city is an important part of understanding why the places we live are the way they are and teach us so much about the future and how they might evolve.

Manhatta

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Man with a Movie Camera

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#art history #lewic mumford #darran anderson #dziga vertov #constructivism #documentary

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izzy-b-hands · 5 years

Text

Usurp The Throne

So I’m taking a stab at the other part of my Horror Movie AU with Ghost, and this is also technically part of the NOLA AU as I have it taking place with Eugene living there with Snafu, so both tags are gonna be on this one!

if y’all have never looked them up or heard them, give ‘em a whirl. It’s catchy Swedish metal with a hint of pop...idk magic? I can’t describe it exactly it just works.

The song in question that inspired this one can be listened to right here:

https://open.spotify.com/track/4yrxgaL6zAsxkeMCwCtORS

I might do more of these based on more songs, but we’ll see how this one goes first. If nothing else, I’m def indulging myself here but I can’t help it lol.

My love to all who read/like/reblog!!

“That’s a goddamn zombie,” Snafu stuttered, and dashed away from the window, his eyes wide.

“Very funny,” Eugene replied as he flipped to the next page in his book. “It isn’t even Halloween, but nice try. You aren’t gonna get me this time though. Not like last time with the vampires.”

“That was funny though,” Snafu chuckled. “Poor thing, thinkin’ we had vampire neighbors.”

“After they party all night, every night, they look like ‘em. Still wish I could convince them to sleep for a night then come over for brunch,” Eugene sighed. “They seem like nice people, but they keep turnin’ me down.”

“Maybe this gal will wanna come in for a nightcap,” Snafu said, slowly approaching the window again, as if something would come bursting through it.

“You’re still tryin’ this, really? Okay, show me this spooky zombie,” Eugene set down his book on the coffee table, pulled himself from the comfort of the couch, and walked to the window.

She was...rotting. There was no nice way to put it, no bush to beat around because the whole garden was already burned down. She dripped with the moss of the swamps from the outside of town, her bone exposed on various limbs, bits of muscle and gristle still hanging to some. And she was headed towards their door.

“Jesus Christ,” Eugene backed away from the window, and searched for his Bible on the nearby bookshelf. “Is the door locked? Make sure it’s locked, and we can push the couch in front of-Snafu!”

Snafu was at the door, and had opened it, staring at the woman as she stepped in front of him.

“May I come inside? It’s so dreadfully cold tonight...”

“It is August, and I have sweated through two shirts today,” Eugene said briskly, gently moving Snafu aside from the door. “But that’s what you say no matter what time of year it is, don’t you?”

The woman’s eyes were somehow intact, though cloudy enough that he wondered how she could even see to walk around. “What year is it?”

“1947,” Snafu piped up from behind him. “What year was it when you died?”

“Merriell!” Eugene scolded. “Please don’t encourage this!”

“She’s a real, live zombie! You tellin’ me we really aren’t gonna let her in and ask some questions?”

Eugene sighed in desperation and frustration. “No, I don’t really want a dead woman in our house. Why on earth do you?”

The woman’s sniffling caught his attention, and his glare fell.

“I...how awful do I look?” she asked. “It was 1760...I was waiting for my sweetheart near her work and...”

She broke out into gasping sobs, despite there apparently being no fluid left in her to create tears.

“Okay, come in, come in. Not gonna leave a crying woman in the street, even if you are dead,” Eugene said, moving aside to let her in.

“Do you remember what happened? Who killed you?” Snafu’s eyes were wide, with curiosity now instead of fear.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please...”

“I’m sorry. It’s just...I mean...well, not often we have a guest like you,” Snafu said.

“Or guests period,” Eugene remarked, thinking of the neighbors.

“I...where do I go? What do I do? Why am I awake again?” the woman was suddenly encased in a fear of her own, and reached out to grab Snafu’s hand. “What curse is this?”

Snafu stared at her hand on his, the bone of her fingers visible in her viscera that should have been so much more decayed than it was, and Eugene caught his eye to try and calm him.

“Look. I...this is is far out of my range of what I know that I can’t even begin to explain it,” he said as he motioned for all of them to sit on the couch, though he feared for cleaning the couch later. “But maybe we can help. Somehow. I’m not really sure how...”

“I just wish I knew why,” she sighed. “I mean...I remember some things after.”

“Like what?” Snafu asked, a look of horror on his face.

“The alligators. I never feared them much in life, but they were hungry. I don’t blame them for what they did,” she said, and with growing terror Eugene noted the scrape and bite marks on some of her exposed bone.

“Could you feel it?” Snafu looked like he had thousands of questions behind his eyes, spinning in his head, but he seemed to be holding back for the woman’s sake.

She nodded. “It wasn’t exactly painful just...sensation. But I fell back asleep then...or died again, however you want to put it. I mean, I must have been dead already. I must be now.”

“Y’know,” Snafu said. “The city has a bit of a reputation now. For some spookiness. If you don’t...fall back asleep, maybe you could capitalize on that.”

“How is she gonna do that?” Eugene asked. “Move in down the street and make herself a roadside attraction? That’s no way to live...er, or not live.”

“Nah, nah. The swamps. How cool and creepy would it be, for there to be a myth of a Zombie Queen, haunting the swamp. Reigning over it all. If you wanna pass through, you better look out for her,” Snafu grinned, and gently took her hand in his. “You could do it, I bet.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” she said softly. “I just want...I don’t know. To be somewhere safe. Your face when you saw me...I must look horrible. I can’t stay near town, or I’ll scare everyone.”

“Exactly! You get your peace in the swamp, maybe take over one of the abandoned cabins out that way. Make an appearance every now and again to creep people out, and they’ll fear you but leave you be cause they know if they bug you, maybe somethin’ bad’ll happen. But nothin’ bad has to happen; we’ll just start the rumors that somethin’ would. We could do that, right, Eugene?”

It wasn’t a bad idea. He felt for her, even as some of her flesh fell off of her onto the floor. She wasn’t the malevolent creature come to attack them like he’d thought. She was hurt and scared and lonely, and it seemed hadn’t even known really that she was dead until now. She deserved peace, if she was to deal with having been brought back to something near life by some unknown force.

“I think we could do that. We travel out to the swamps on occasion, and I think we could report back a haunted cabin everyone should avoid for their own safety, and the sighting of a powerful and terrifying Zombie Queen, who commands the creatures of the swamp and has defeated death itself,” he replied.

If she could have blushed, he figured she would have been, her eyelash-free lids fluttering softly as she giggled. “That’s a lot. But I like it. I just want to be left alone. Maybe get to fall back asleep again, and hopefully never wake up like this.”

They drove her out of town towards the nearest swamp, after making a stop at the home of one of the queens they knew who had dresses that were being rotated out of their closet.

The woman looked queenly now, in a thick black velvet gown, covered in sequins. It clung just closely enough to show off the shape of her exposed rib-cage, and she smiled as they traveled.

At the edge of the swamp, they got out with her, looking out into the mossy waters.

“You ready, Zombie Queen?” Snafu asked.

Again, Eugene could envision the blush that would have colored her face. “I think so. I...you didn’t have to help me. You could have more easily hurt me and dumped me somewhere else. And you’d be justified, given how strange this all is...”

“We’ve dealt with weird things before. This won’t be the last thing, I’m sure,” Eugene smiled. “I do have to ask though, before you go: what’s your name? We can’t just call you Zombie Queen to everyone.”

“Clara,” she replied. “But I don’t know if that’s a real queenly name. My sweetheart, now she had the queenly name. She was a queen, to me.”

His heart dropped in sorrow. “What was her name?”

“Delphine. Do you think you could use that instead? I think it sounds better...and then whenever anyone is talking about me, it’ll be sort of like they’re talking about both of us,” she said.

“Zombie Queen Delphine,” Snafu smiled, but Eugene could see the tears at the corners of his eyes. “We’ll start spreadin’ word as soon as we get back to town.”

“Thank you,” she smiled gently, and turned to the water. As she walked into it, it was as if the animals in the water somehow knew, and respected her new title. The alligators in the water all popped up around her, not attacking her, but watching, creating a sort of aisle for her to walk down as she drifted towards the other shore, far away, where one of the abandoned homes they had found in trips previous sat.

They held hands on the ride home, both of them asking the same question in their heads. If it was them in Clara (or rather, Delphine’s) situation, would they be strong enough to deal with living without each other?

He wanted to think yes, but he knew that he couldn’t truly know for sure if it wouldn’t drive him mad. To be stuck somewhere between life and death, hundreds of years later, with Snafu dead and gone. He admired her strength and ability to tackle her new life, or whatever you would call what she had now.

For now, he relished the feeling of Snafu’s hand in his, and focused on appearing as scared as possible for when they got back into town. They’d really have to sell it, and he was prepared to make sure everyone they met believed in the Zombie Queen Delphine, ruler of the swamp.

#text post #LeeH writes #Sledgefu #Horror Movie AU #NOLA AU #tbh I really like the character I created here and I hate that her story went sad on me #I want to write a sequel to this and give her back her girlfriend #just two zombie queens ruling #just girly things ya know

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uclaradio · 6 years

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Interview with City Girl

Interviewed by Jennifer Liaw

album art for Time Falls Like Moonlight, by vickisigh

City Girl is a rising LA-based lo-fi/chillhop producer that incorporates a lot of soft piano and guitar intertwined with electronic beats and vocals. Starting out on Bandcamp and Soundcloud only 10 months ago, they now have three albums out on Spotify, the latest being Time Falls Like Moonlight, released in April.

Tell us a bit about yourself. Where did you grow up? What was growing up in that city like?

I grew up in California close to LA. To be honest once I found music I never really went outside. Before that I was just playing video games and watching cartoons. I guess the internet was more of where I grew up, as opposed to any geographical place.

What music did you listen to a lot growing up? What were your favorite artists back in like middle school, for example?

In middle school it was John Frusciante, all day everyday. Something about his guitar playing really inspired me. It was soulful and beautiful and just felt perfect, like every note was exactly where it should be. In high school my music taste exploded, but John Frusciante was the majority of the first music I learned and played.

Tell us a little about how City Girl first got started.

I uploaded on the train somewhere between my apartment and you 10 months ago on Soundcloud and just emailed a bunch of Youtube channels that were taking submissions. Aurarian music accepted that first release and put it out on Youtube and got the ball rolling so City Girl could get some attention back when it was only 10-20 followers.

How did you come up with the name City Girl?

To be honest, its in honor of “City Girl” by Kevin Shields from the Lost In Translation soundtrack. I’m a huge My Bloody Valentine fan and that song of his is just so amazing.

When did you first start making music? How did you get into it, and how did you first learn how to produce a beat?

I got into guitar playing when I was 12 or so. I just played because my older brother had a guitar. I took it and just Googled how to play guitar and taught myself songs and chords. It was the most fun I’d ever had. It felt so special. I didn’t start producing for like another seven years though. I would just record onto a Tascam tape recorder and jam with friends in garages. I had friends who made lofi beats waay back when it was like CULP and Simo and Onra and john wayne and stuff, but I never got into it, I was more focused on improvising and expanding my musical repertoire in a more performance-focused way.

Are there any instruments that you would like to try out incorporating into your music that you haven't tried yet?

I want live drums but I live in an apartment. If I could record drums that would be so cool, since I play drums too and I miss it badly.

Where do you usually record your music? Describe your studio space to us.

It’s about five feet no joke from my bed haha. It’s a desk and a midi keyboard and some guitars and other little instruments like the melodica. I have speakers and an old mic. It’s super cozy, my bedroom at my apartment is just covered with vickisigh’s art, like everywhere you look it’s just cute sexy ladies in pastel colors, I love it.

vickisigh’s (Vicki Tsai) artwork, from her instagram

How would you describe the lo-fi/chillhop genre and subculture to someone who’s never been exposed to it?

It’s just a bunch of people who love making music on their computers, and to be honest only one percent is unique and actually worth your time, but the same goes for all genres, 99 percent of it is just not that good. I would be more specific but at this point lofi stands for so so much that you can’t really go much further than that.

What do you think of the lo-fi hip hop/chillhop genre in general? It's really popular right now what with the YouTube 24hr lo-fi hip hop studying beats stream and the Spotify lo-fi hip hop studying beats playlists as well... There's literally probably thousands of really similar chillhop producers on SoundCloud... does that ever make you feel swallowed up, in a sense? Or does it feel more like a really large community? How do you try to stand out as an artist among all these other producers?

It’s a tough question to answer, because you can go from quickly, quickly to in love with a ghost and still call it lofi if you want to. These artists share playlists together and Youtube mixes. Who’s to say quickly, quickly isn’t just jazz? Who’s to say in love with a ghost isn’t just electronic music? It’s not so much a genre as it is a movement of instrumental music becoming the focus itself rather than the singer/rapper. Staying unique seems simple to me as I grew up playing and learning music by ear, so I just follow my interests/inspiration and play whatever seems cool.

Which artists would you say are your biggest inspirations or that you're just blown away by and really admire within your genre? How about outside of your genre?

Well in love with a ghost stands out, like most peeps I found them on Youtube. All the tracks from Let’s Go and Healing by them are amazing. Just super cool textures and melodies, really lovely and creative music. Kupla is amazing too, he’s an amazing piano player, all of his music is great. Outside of my genre I’d say Sheena Ringo, especially her album Kalk Samen Kuri no Hana - it’s pretty much game over, this album does everything better in every regard imaginable than any other music I’ve heard. Don’t know if you can get access to it in US tho, the copyright lawyers are hard at work on this one.

What artist outside of the lo-fi hip hop genre would you really really love to collaborate with? Can you describe the kind of track you'd want to make with them?

With anyone, well shit Beyoncé right? I mean she’s the best vocalist alive next to Frank Ocean. I would just want to make something really beautiful, some In Rainbows type stuff.

Being an artist based out of Bandcamp/Soundcloud in this day means a lot of your career is kind of born out of the internet. What are your favorite and least favorite parts about the internet and spending so much time on the internet/interacting with people on the internet/sharing yourself through the internet?

I love the internet because I can share whatever I want when I want. I don’t feel a lot of pressure because I don’t have any personal accounts on social media and never have, I always just read a lot of books and listened to records and stuff. I’m sure some people think it’s mysterious or whatever that I never cared for social media, instead opting to just read Sartre or watch old movies, but nowadays all I do is make music and play Skyrim so it’s all good. The internet gives me access to all that goodness so I can find it offline.

What are your top five favorite artists right now?

Tom Misch, Swell, quickly quickly, in love with a ghost, and Sam Gellaitry

What are your top five favorite female artists?

Sheena Ringo, Beyoncé, Aivi Tran, MISO (from club eskimo - a collective including Crush, Dean, offonoff, 2xxx!, millic, and more), and tiffi.

Do you have a favorite spot in LA that you wouldn't want to share with anyone else?

Wherever YAYAYI and JALENTUNA happen to be any given saturday night in k-town is a pretty special vibe that honestly can’t be shared even if I wanted it to be. God there was this $5 flat pho place on Western Ave. that was run by this old couple but it closed like 5 years ago, that was the best place ever and it straight up was ALWAYS empty, no one ate there. I think it was like Pho 36 haha one of those LA pho places that has a random number after it.

What are some things that you really enjoy doing for yourself? When you need to take a day for yourself, what are things that you'll usually do?

Skyrim is a go-to. It’s usually video games but a lot of times it’s just making music. You gotta understand music is like an addiction to me. I never stop thinking about sounds and I feel uneasy not making music.

So we know you like video games… what are some of your favorite video games of all time? Do you have any funny anecdotes from playing games online with strangers?

Favorite of all time is Psychonauts. Such a creative game and Scott Campbell’s art is the absolute bee’s knees. Right now my favorite is Skyrim as mentioned. I love RPG and adventure games, the immersion gets me good. I loved games growing up, played anything. I have a lot of anecdotes about gaming but I honestly can’t think of just one. Haha well when Xbox Live came out online gaming was brand new and I remember my dad getting on the headset asking people not to cuss (since I was just a kid) and THEY STOPPED. They were like “Oh sorry dude we didn’t know there were kids playing we will keep the cursing to a minimum.” Can you imagine that nowadays? It would never happen. That shit still blows my mind.

Do you play Fortnite? If so, what are your thoughts on it?

I played Fortnite with Chance, thrash, and Maru the other night and I hate it so much lol. The vibe is so terrible, the aesthetic makes me want to barf it’s so ugly. That was the only time I’ve really played it and it hasn’t been on my mind, the itch isn’t there so I guess no hype for me.

What are your favorite K-Pop bands or members?

SNSD was the OG. That old video of Sooyoung going “OP-EHHHH! OP-EH EH EH EH EH” lol that shit is so funny. I don’t follow it much anymore but MISO is the queen right now, she’s the best. I watched all of Jessica and Krystal when it came out too, that’s good stuff.

Ok I also saw on Twitter that you have a cat... tell us about your cat!

Ah yes, Seymour, the Russian Blue. He is a very handsome and beautiful man. He is a shadow in the night. Every part of him is gray except his lil tongue which is pink and his eyes which are green. He lives at my parents house so I don’t see him except at holidays, but he is my good soft boy. I think of him very often.

art from Snow Rose, by vickisigh

What would you say is your favorite track that you've produced?

“Anything Like Her” with tiffi is prob my fav. Tiffi is so cool and that song is really different sounding from other City Girl songs so I think it’s cool.

What is your favorite track off of Time Falls Like Moonlight?

“Sunset Lullaby” is probably my favorite. The second half with the acoustic and electric guitar just feels really special.

What was your inspiration for Time Falls Like Moonlight?

I make so much music, the inspiration doesn’t really ever make sense, I am inspired by everything in each moment, I am inspired by my own passion to make music. Not understanding what is going on is really important to how I work, it makes things exciting. I just want the music to make people feel loved and understood for who they are, that there is a purpose for them, a life they can live and be loved in.

When you make songs, are they ever about specific things, people, or events in your life?

Not really, it’s just all my emotions sort of bleeding into the computer. I don’t know if I could write about any particular thing, but I do enjoy imagining lots of people and situations to my music after I made it. Like oh this sounds like Moonlight Hill (from Kingdom Hearts) or this sounds like a tender look from someone or this sounds like a lonely plaza in the middle of some city. It’s all free and open to interpretation.

“Winter Fields” is one of my favorite tracks of yours... mostly because of the lovely violin part by mklachu. It's so dreamy and kind of reminds me of some of my favorite Ryuichi Sakamoto pieces, too. Can you tell us a little about this track?

It’s random but the track started as a like, flex? I was watching Joji’s Youtube aliases and god they are just awful I mean like him fucking with people and being super lewd and nasty I hate it but I was watching it anyway to like fry my brain and I thought it would be fun to make a nasty trap beat that would fit with his videos and I made “Winter Fields” (I know it doesn’t make sense at all). The song slowly got more romantic as I added piano layers the next day and then mklachu tweeted at me out of nowhere and I asked her to play over it and yeah it’s just what happens when you work on music all the time, everything going on makes it into the song.

Another one of my favorites is “Chateau Fountain.” I love the slow buildup, and then the talking portion that kind of just emerges and goes into like an acoustic drop... ahhhh.. I was wondering where that talking portion is from actually. The guy is like, "Take the flowers," and the girl is like "I’m all right!" and it sounds like an uncomfortable struggle...a common pattern in society where... men force women to do things regardless of their autonomy or feelings (ha ha). Does it have any significance to the meaning behind the track? What were your reasons for choosing to put that particular snippet in this track? It's interesting because for me, I think I'm more sensitive than the average person to these kind of power dynamics or like...oppression against women in all aspects of daily interactions or media that I consume, so when I listen to this track it's like a soft buildup to this point of conflict that is kind of grating, but then evolves back into a calming acoustic melody. That's personal, of course, but it's interesting.

DUDE YOU HAVEN’T SEEN ATONEMENT? Omg that movie is so incredible. It’s James McAvoy talking to Kiera Knightley and they have all this tension because they love each other but they can’t be together and ooooooooooooooooooh it’s so good. Their love is so beautiful and honest but it’s injected with all this tension and conflict from society and politics. I felt that snippet fit so perfectly into the emotions of the song, it’s one of the few few times I’ve used movie snippets because I felt it actually added to the track in a creative way.

How do you think you've evolved from the first songs you put out on Bandcamp/Soundcloud, and your first album Loveless Shadows, to now?

I know a lot more about mixing, especially with bass and drums. I try to make more upbeat stuff now, but honestly I still end up making a lot of downtempo stuff. I know a lot more jazz piano than I did before so that’s nice too.

What are some artists that you think are really underrated that you'd like to give a shoutout to and encourage people to check out?

frenesi is criminally underrated.

What are your goals for City Girl for the next few years?

Just put out an incredible amount of music and keep building the world of City Girl. I want people to feel relaxed and loved and understood when they listen to City Girl. Honestly I just want to expand the harmonic and melodic depth of City Girl, I want people to head bump and cry in the same track, I want to find that fusion of beautiful and funky that all great music has for me.

I know you just released an album, but besides that, do you have any upcoming events or projects your fans should be looking forward to?

I have another album finished already, but with the way vickisigh (I won’t put out something without her art on it) works it won’t be out until probably another two-three months. So by the time that comes out I’ll have another album done and so on the process repeats. So just look forward to a new album every two-three months for as long as I’m rockin in the free world.

art from Loveless Shadows, by vickisigh

Check out City Girl’s latest album, Time Falls Like Moonlight, out on Spotify, Soundcloud, and Bandcamp! They also have two other albums, Snow Rose from December, and Loveless Shadows from August that are equally as beautiful. Follow them on Soundcloud for all their music updates and on Twitter for all their promo updates!

#vickisigh #city girl #time falls like moonlight #city girl interview #loveless shadows #snow rose #ucla radio #uclaradio.com #ucla #college radio #ArtistInterview

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ukaia · 6 years

Text

Spreading the Magic

Here’s the fourth chapter from the idea I got from the Youtube Video. [MMD X Jacksepticeye]Novocaine-Marvin the Magnificent & Dr. Schneeplestein “ it was created by Sky_Dragon_Queen. I encourage you to look at the video if you’re curious! Marvin has found a way to give each one of his family members a version of their own magic. It’s special for them, and each one is individual. today’s going to be Chase’s day, he made up his mind the night before, and won’t let anyone deter him from his decision!! No Matter what! Feel free to create art if it inspires you. I mess up stick figures so I’m trying to do the art i see in my head with my words. As always please enjoy!!

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Chase Brody

It was afternoon when Chase approached Marvin. The Magician had been reluctant to perform the spell again. The ones left were himself, Robbie and Henrik. With the way things were looking, it would be possibly fairly dangerous for himself and Henrik. But today Chase was determined. Waking up with Jameson curled up against his chest, his lips parted as he slept and a happy little smile twitching at the corners was enough to make up his mind. Any pain he went though was fine, as long as he could protect his family. He knew he was the weakest out of all of them. Nothing but a sharp shooter, at his best, and a failed father who drank at his worst.

“Marvin” Chase said, his shoulders squared with determination. Marvin looked up from the spell book he’d been looking over curious what Chase would want... dreading the words he didn’t want to hear.

“I want you to do the spell to me. “ he said to him. His voice was firm and held no room for argument.

“Chase.. I can’t.. not after the others” He said shaking his head rapidly, his cat mask wriggled on his face, and he lifted a hand settling it back in place. He needed to replace the string that was holding it in place. It was starting to get loose, though that thought was a little distant note at the back of his mind, in the face of the determined father before him. He had to change his mind, make him see that this was just too dangerous.

“I’ll find.. something else, some other spell that will--”He got cut off as Chase slammed his hands down on the table making the other ego jump, startled from the impact.

“I said.. you’re going to do the spell on me. “ he repeated firmly, leaning forward making Marvin shrink back slightly in shock. He’d never seen Chase quite like this before.He blinked rapidly under the others gaze.

“You realize it’ll be painful...and dangerous.. and.. well .. you could... could..” He stammered. Chase stared into his eyes, nothing but absolute will to do this was reflected at the other ego. He’d made up his mind, and nothing Marvin or the others could say would deter him from this.

“I don’t care. You’re going to do it. “ he said to him and leaned back. He crossed his arms staring at him

“You’re going to do it today. “ he said then turned and headed out of the room, leaving a stunned Marvin in his wake.

Not even Schneeplestein threatening to not save his life deterred Chase from his decision. After a good deal of yelling, an arguing and threatening... that lead them to now.It was early evening, the golden light filtered into the training room from the high windows cast the entire room in an odd glow.

Marvin, looking anxious, was standing across form Chase who seemed nothing more then determined. Jakieboy and Schneeplestein were off to the side, the gurney and the medical bag at the ready. He knew he’d need them both. Henrik was still muttering curses under his breath about the stupidity of his brother, flicking between English and German. Jakieboy was there to help, he could probably keep from being thrown by the magic if things went in a direction they hadn’t expected.

“Are you.. are you sure about this?” Marvin asked as he looked at Chase’s blue eyes and the other ego nodded. He took in a deep breath, there was no going back from this, he flat out refused.

“I’m not backing down. I can take it. “ he said, borrowing one of Jakieboy’s phrases for when he was helping them sometimes. He clenched his fists and grinned at Henrik as another rather loud German cursing. It really was kind of cute how angry Henrik was right now. Though he’d not given the other ego much of a choice. He’d told him he could be there and save his ass, or he could wait and they could hope for the best. Jackieboy was shaking his head a bit, he was sure this was going to go better then they expected, at least that was what he was trying to convince himself. He gave Chase a thumbs up, and he grinned back.

“ lets get this show on the road Marvin. The faster you start the faster I can let Schneep get his tender lovin hands on me “ he said. Schneep raised his head scowling darkly at Chase.

“Ich werde dir "zärtliche liebende Hände" dir über eifrige, dämliche, sture ... Idioten zeigen!” He snapped at him looking angry. Chase just grinned at him, eyes sparkling.

“I’m gunna take that as an agreement that I’ll get nothing but the best from ya Doc!“ he said sticking out his tongue and Henrik just threw his arms up in frustration as Jakie tried not to snicker, covering his mouth with his hand, looking away as Henrik shot him a dark look as well. Marvin was feeling a little more relaxed now and he took in a breath.

“On with the show then... “ he muttered and raised his hands. He began to speak. The spell obediently went out seeking his target. Chase winced as the spell wrapped it’s self around him. Oooh yeah.. that was unpleasant. Still he grit his teeth, JJ had done it, Jakieboy had done it, he could do this. He stood, his shoulders trembling as he felt the magic wriggling it’s way into his body. It burned.. like being sliced open by a thousand knives frozen with liquid nitrogen. It burned and froze at the same time, he felt it flooding into his veins as it got past his skin. He trembled, his breathing coming rapidly as he felt the magic twining around inside himself, seeking out the channels it needed. Gods he was cold.. so cold.. it hurt like hell.. He realized when he gasped for air, he’d fallen to his knees at some point his hands clutching at his chest as he struggled for breath, struggled to focus, gods it was cold! He found his teeth chattering, and his entire body shivering with the ice that seemed to flow into and though him and burn at the same time. He wouldn’t let go, he wouldn't let them stop. He forced himself to try and welcome even more of the magic, and it responded by filling him, head to toe.. eagerly seeking out what it wanted. And then it found it, the place it needed to be and Chase screamed out as they wrenched at the closed channel. It wasn’t cold anymore,well, no he was, but it was so cold he was burning, agony soared though every fiber of his being, he was on his side on the ground, curled in a tight ball, struggling for every breath that went in, and went out. He wasn’t aware of anything but the unending pain as the magic forced the channel open wider and wider. He wasn’t even sure where the pain was emanating from, he couldn't place it, he didn’t want to. He just wanted it to stop.. he wanted the pain to end! He couldn’t breath, see, hear, speak..there was nothing but cold fire that burned him from the inside out, it consumed him whole. There would be nothing left of himself when the flames would burn out. Finally, blissfully he lost consciousness.

The spell ended and Chase stopped his agonized screaming. His form that had been thrashing on the ground of the training room went completely limp and still. Marvin fell to his hands and knees his own breathing labored, and his vision swimming. He blinked as he tried to remain focused, and sit back up. It felt like that spell had drained most his energy, apparently with the harder it was for the one getting the magic, the more it pulled from his own supplies. He felt like a weak kitten, but he didn’t care.. he wanted to know how Chase was.

Henrik was already moving the moment he saw the magic end. The screaming from Chase had been... well he was sure that would be part of some of his nightmares soon enough. He dropped beside the still ego and touched him then jerked his hand back in shock, Chase felt like a block of ice. His skin was cold to the touch! He scowled as he leaned back closer, studying him, his skin was a bright pink red, but on his lips, the tips of his ears and nose, and the start of his fingers was a bluish color. He grit his teeth as he recognized the symptoms.

“Hypothermia” He hissed out, this magic was never ending bag of miserable surprises wasn't it? He was going to have to warm him up, and very carefully or he could damage him even worse. Jakie was already there with the gurney and reached down to pick Chase up.

“GENTLE!” he snapped at him. Jakie stopped short, eyes wide and unsure as Henrik snapped at him. Jakie didn’t mind the snapping, he just needed instructions as to not hurt his brother.

“Very very gentle, ve can’t jostle him too much. It could cause damage. “ he said to him firmly. Jakie nodded, and very carefully lifted Chase from the ground, before Henrik let him lay Chase down on the gurney he put the blanket down over it, to keep him from touching any of the cool metal.

“Varm blankets, a lot of zem, I’m also going to need heating packs, and ze electric blanket” He said as he began to wheel Chase out of the training room. Marvin pushed himself to his feet, staggering to the side a bit before he began to follow the other two out of the room. Dammit.. he knew he shouldn’t have let him do this!!!

Henrik worked on Chase, warming compresses from his emergency kit were placed at his neck, around his chest and between his legs, each one wrapped in a cloth to keep the plastic from directly touching his skin.. just in-case.. A blanket separated him from the electric blanket, that rest over his chest and stomach area, set to a low setting. He even had a set of towels, wrapped around another set of warming compresses around Chases’s head, careful not to let the items touch his skin directly. Henrik then got a IV going with warmed saline fluid, plus an oxygen mask with warmed, humidified air for him to breath. He made sure to monitored Chase’s temperature, breathing and heart rate very closely. When they had gotten into his clinic it was initially hovering around 85 for the core temperature, and his pulse was thready at best. Henrik had cursed quite a bit more, this was severely dangerous.

Over the next dozen or more hours, slowly his core temperature went up, and the signs of hypothermia began to fade from Chases’ skin. Henrik didn’t breath a sigh of relief until he saw that the temperature had gone up to around 96. He was still in hypothermia mode, but now it was not as much in the danger zone as when he’d first arrived in the clinic. He collapsed back in the chair and rubbed his temples. His family was trying to kill him with stress over them... he was sure of it.. there was no other answer as to why in the hell they kept doing things like this to themselves and him. He looked at Chase’s sleeping form, the heart rate was steady, the breathing normal, everything seemed stable. Still, he was reluctant to let himself rest too much. Things could change quickly with an aliment like this, even in the “Mild” zone as he was right now.

“Come on..” Jakie said, pulling Henrik up out of the seat and guiding him over to the cot on the other side of the lab. Henrik’s blurry mind took a few moments to catch up and he protested.

“No.. I am.. I am ze ok. I vill stay there.. he needs.. needs to be vatched.. “ He muttered in tired protest as Jakie kept a firm grip on him, not letting him go back to the uncomfortable chair he’d been in.

“You’re going to lay down, and get some rest now. I’m going to keep watch. If anything at all so much as twitches I’ll tell you. “ he said firmly pushing Henrik down on the cot, and taking his shoes off. Henrik blinked bleary eyes up at Jakie and then he sighed slightly. He was.. exhausted. He’d stayed up over .. what was it.. 30 or more hours now, changing the IV fluids to make sure they didn’t get cool, adding more water to the humidifier attached to the breathing mask, and making sure the temperatures were adjusted to be warm but not hot or cool, changing out the warming packs. Henrik gave Jakie a glare, that Jakie met with gentle a smirk. Finally Henrik gave in with a huff.

“Vy is evervone in zis family so.. so.. stubborn “ he muttered to him as he finally allowed Jakie to push him down onto the cot, and pull a warm blanket up over his chilled form.

“What can I say Henrik? Seems to run in our blood. Yours included. “ he smirked lightly. Henrik snorted and muttered something under his breath, but moments later his breathing evened out and he was dead to the world asleep. Jakie sighed and smoothed Herik’s hair for a moment from the pale tired face, before turning back to sit down in the chair next to Chase.

Once Chase had been initially stabilized he’d gone to check on Marvin,since the Magician hadn’t made it to the lab, and he knew that wasn’t a good sign. The Magician had been slumped in the hall, blinking groggily, and looking fairly out of it, small tremors ran though his body. Jakie had frowned and shaken his head, he’d seen Marvin like that before. Magic overuse.. the first time he’d seen him like this had been quite a long time ago. Seemed like this spell was doing havoc to not just it’s subjects, but the caster as well. Though, this really did strike him as odd. Marvin had been at full power when the spell had been cast..for him to be this drained, was.. well.. just odd..

Carefully he’d gathered Marvin up off the floor and carried him to his room.

“Bu.. bu.. chase.. “ he’d slurred out as Jakie had carried him down the halls. Jakie arched a brow slightly.

“Gott ache.. “ He muttered

“He’s stable Marvin. You need to get some rest. You’re displaying all the symptoms of using your magic too much. “ he said to him gently and firmly. Marvin muttered something else as Jakie reached his room, and pushed open the door. It didn’t take long for him to settle the protesting Magician in the bed and tuck him in.

“Rest, Then you can help Chase” he said firmly. Marvin had finally given in and fallen asleep.

Jakie leaned back in the chair watching the steady beep beep beep of the heart monitor. Something about how the spell was draining Marvin bothered him. He didn’t like how exhausted he was after this one. He tapped his fingers on his knees as he tried to puzzle it out. When Marvin recovered enough to be fully coherent he’d have to ask him about it. Something just felt... off.

For now though, he’d sit and watch Chase, waiting for him to wake up. Hernik had said it might be a couple days before he did. But all signs were good that things were alright. Jakie sighed running fingers though his hair. It was frustrating.. being the one waiting.

#jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye #jackieboy #chase brody #henrik von schneeplestein #hypothermia #fanfiction #marvin the magnificent

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voyages-extraordinaires · 6 years

Text

C:R ~VE~ Chapter 16

Nemo’s return to the warehouse was nothing short of triumphant. That being said, a great deal of the pomp and circumstance came from the man in question himself.

The greatest incidents over the following weeks usually occurred when Cardia and I had to convince the boys that sleep was required to perform basic functions.

Nemo and I hadn’t shared a bed since Aouda and Fogg’s arrival. On the contrary, Nemo spent what little free time he gave himself speaking excitedly with Barbicane about... gravity, oddly enough. It probably had to do with Barbicane’s future moon trip (a plan that I still can’t wrap my head around).

Barbicane, Smith, and Nemo were hyper-focused on their work, with Cardia filling the role of assistant.

...I often left the warehouse so as not to get in their way. I’m afraid I was feeling rather useless in this part of the planning, but I was doing my best not to let it get to me.

By the time the third week passed, I completely filled two journals with biological observations.

I wanted to do more, and this afternoon I’m finally able to sit down with a new subject.

Though Nemo initially encouraged me to continue with my biological studies, I told him that that I really wanted to learn what he was doing.

I blush when I remember how tight he hugged me after I said that. He was speaking so excitedly that his voice sounded like a blur of jibberish, and shortly after that he gave me this book.

It’s surprisingly easy to read, though I’m not especially fond of physics. If it will help us dive to the bottom of the sea in a powered vessel, though, I’ll do whatever it takes.

Still, I’m a little surprised he was so eager to help me learn. In fact, he seems to be at his happiest when he’s encouraging others to, as he puts it, ‘indulge their scientific curiosity’.

“It’s probably because of my father,” Cardia told me one night.

“Isaac Beckford?” I asked.

“When Nemo was experimenting on my Horologium, I ignored a lot of what he was saying,” she continued. “But he talked about my father often. I think he encouraged Nemo quite a bit. I might be completely off with this, but... I think he’s hoping he might be able to fill that role for someone else. That maybe he can encourage someone in the same way.”

To most, Nemo is eccentric, at best. But as we all work towards this great goal, this shining future, I think it’s becoming easier for all of us to see what a genius he truly is. More than that, what sort of man he is behind his flamboyance, tragedy, bombast, and bitterness.

Of course, I’m terribly biased. Each time he makes me laugh, I fall a little deeper in love with him.

These days that I can spend with everyone are precious.

However... there is one person that I haven’t quite been able to connect with.

It isn’t that she’s impolite, in fact she’s very cordial! But, no matter how hard I try, I always feel uneasy around Aouda.

It’s no mystery as to why, either. Though she’s a noble, charismatic, and intelligent woman with much to offer... all I can see in her is Nemo’s past. That past that he didn’t want me to touch, his life and love as Dakkar.

While my scientific curiosity is something I want to stimulate, the last thing I want to do is to indulge my self-destructive heart that burns to know about his family.

No, it’s not that I even especially desire to know about his family-- I respect Nemo’s wishes enough to not pry.

It’s my self-loathing heart, that terrible part of me that wants to confirm-- ah, there is no way I could compare to the princess he once had!

.....

I’ve been trying to read the same sentence for the past minute. I have to remember and accept who I am. I am Pauline Honorine Aronnax, a great biologist who will one day explore the depths of the Atlantic.

Ah, maybe statement needs to have a dash more ‘Barbicane’ to it.

I am Pauline Honorine Aronnax, France’s greatest biologist and the one who will one day show mankind the treasures of a world previously unseen!

No, that sounds more like Nemo, doesn’t it? It’s just missing a few stretched vowels.

Damnit, I can’t concentrate like this!

I set the book aside and make my way towards the barracks, sick on love and of love!

He almost kissed me. He told me that he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back. Logic would dictate, then, that he at least must hold some sort of attraction towards me! I should be happy, so why--?!

No, I know why.

It’s because I’m neither a great beauty like the love he once had, nor am I a master of the science he loves now. It’s the same as it was at the university, too. My peers would ask me, hasn’t everything in the world been discovered already? Best to leave these ‘soft’ sciences behind and pursue technology and great feats of engineering!

As I throw the door to the barracks open, I almost walk into Aouda. Both of us jump, startled, and exchange apologies while laughing politely.

I can’t bring myself to make eye contact with her as I move past. The way I’m acting is irrational, ridiculous.

“Professor.”

I stop when Aouda calls out to me in her cool voice.

“My cousin was looking for you,” she says. “He’s made a breakthrough on an ‘air independent engine’ and was hoping to show you.”

“Oh, well-- well of course,” I say, doing my best to sound even. “Yes, I’ll go... I just... need to freshen up a touch is all.”

“Professor,” Aouda repeats.

Her voice wounds me like a barbed harpoon.

“Philomena and I will be accompanying Finis back to London,” she says.

I turn to look at her, unsure of how to respond.

“We’ll be looking for concrete evidence against this Aleister fellow, and doing what we can to convince Queen Victoria that my cousin is not the man he really is... or, at least, try to convince her that he is not the man he was.”

“I’m grateful,” I reply. “Thank you for your help.”

Aouda sighs and repeats once more: “Professor.”

I swallow. “Yes?”

“Even after Philomena spoke with you, you’re still intent on torturing yourself?”

“Torturing myself?” I turn around and look at her. “Not at all! I don’t know what you’re talki....”

Aouda stares at me, daring me to finish my sentence.

“... Truth be told, I would be very happy to have some relief,” I admit. “I thought it would come from acknowledging my feelings.”

“It would take a very selfless person to feel complete relief from merely admitting their feelings to themselves. It will likely take some time for you to stop fighting yourself over it. Does my cousin know?”

She’s too good.

I rub the back of my neck to hide its rosy hue from Aouda. “I think so... he told me to just say it.”

“And did you?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I was too afraid to actually say it. I told him to wait.”

“How long?”

Every time Aouda asks me a short, sharp question it’s like she’s digging the blade in deeper.

“I don’t know...”

Aouda walks over and says: “Look at me.”

I turn my head to look at her. Her expression is surprisingly soft. Though she’s not related to Nemo by blood, she carries herself with the same gravity that I saw in that glimpse of Dakkar. It’s intoxicating.

“It’s been almost a month since Philomena and I arrived. Your submarine will be done soon. You should be happy! You and Nemo should be celebrating!”

Hearing her call him ‘Nemo’ makes me smile.

“See? Like that,” she pats me on the cheek. “Humans aren’t meant to be solitary creatures. Neither you nor him...”

I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and give voice to the insecurity that has been bubbling inside of me:

“The title of ‘princess’...” I speak slowly. “... Belongs to girls like Cardia, not me.”

Aouda doesn’t say anything. I wonder what she looks like right now. I imagine she probably has a frustrated expression on her face. But I can’t stop myself, the relief I felt from saying that sentence alone is so freeing!

“Young, vibrant girls with stars in their eyes and roses in their cheeks! Girls who spread joy wherever they go! I know that type! I could never compare to that! Even now I’m here instead of where I want to be-- because I’d just get in the way. I can identify plants, but what use will that be?!”

I reach out to balance myself against the wall, shaking my head.

“Engineering, physics, isn’t that what Steel London runs on? Isn’t that what Paris and my university run on?!”

I begin to walk forward, groping for the stairs.

“I say that I left my job because it was too safe. What a-- what a bunch of bull!” I let out a laugh that honestly surprises me. “It’s true, god, how inspired I felt when I saw Barbicane’s submersible! I knew there was something still out there for me, something that I could do-- something that no one else could do--! I could go somewhere no one else has been! And when I met Nemo--!”

I suck in my breath as I stumble, but Aouda steadies me with a firm hand.

I wave her away, still rambling.

“-- I felt so special! Like I really mattered! Like I wasn’t just an insignificant existence in a sea of beauty and progress!”

I stumble again, and this time Aouda isn’t there to catch me. My knees knock into the staircase and I fall with a grunt.

I sprawl out on the bottom of the stairs and cover my head, wishing I could will myself away.

“This isn’t about his past at all, is it?!” I cry. “No, that would have an easy solution! People can love more than once, there are thousands of examples--! But I’ll... I’ll never be enough... I’ll never be enough for this world... neither beautiful nor genius... just a prodigy that grew up.”

Aouda sits down on the stairs next to me, not saying anything.

Both of us are quiet for a long time, each of us stewing in our tragedies... mine so insignificant compared to hers.

I break the silence with a laugh.

“Hey...”

I laugh again.

“Is it my turn for teatime?”

Aouda looks over at me, and our eyes meet.

“We’ve all had enough tea, I think,” she says. “

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krispyalpacaduck · 6 years

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Passing Notes

My first Benedict X Reader fic :). Let me know what you think :)

Benedict Cumberbatch x reader

A/N: This was inspired by this photo on Facebook (Credit to the original poster whose name escapes me). This wasn’t supposed to be this long but it kind of got away from me. I shouldn’t have to say this, but I feel I must...For the reminder, this is fanfiction, so anything that happens in it is exercising artistic creativity, not a deliberate attempt to make the writer look like a housewrecker :)

It had been a rough day at the office. On the tube you maintained eye contact with the floor, not bothering to look at anyone lest someone decided to strike up a chat that you were just not in the mood for. Nearing your stop, you tilted back your head,rolling your neck around. Coming back full circle you opened your eyes and froze when you saw Benedict sitting opposite where you were standing. He looked as though he were sleeping, a book sitting lazily in his lap, his head slightly off to the side. You argued with yourself as you stared at him. 'That could be anyone', 'Is that really him?!' and 'Nah, can't be." were at war with each other. He moved slightly, his head coming up and you knew in a second it was definitely him. You could feel your heart racing, slamming into your ribcage as you tried to remain calm instead of "OMG OMG OMG! You're Benedict Cumberbatch!" bursting from your lips. You put a hand to your mouth in effort to conceal a squeal of excitement at the prospect of being in the same tube carriage as Ben, the opportunity to talk to and see in person the one and only! As you turned to walk towards him, you suddenly remembered something he'd said in an interview about an, at times, irrational fear about people coming up to him questioning if he was indeed Benedict Cumberbatch. You sucked in a harsh breath as you put eyes on him again, mentally berating yourself with a slight physical shake of your head as you thought about how you would feel if a random person woke you up when you had dozed off in a public place. Thinking quickly, you remembered the notebook you had with you. Taking it out, you overheard the loud speaker announcing your stop was coming up. You wrote quickly but legibly: Hi Mr. Benedict Cumberbatch, I saw you on the tube but you looked quite content so I didn't want to disturb you. I just wanted to say that I am a huge fan of your work and I absolutely adore you. Well, stop's coming up. Take care! Cheers! Sincerely, Y/N Your stop was announced then. As gently as you could, you slipped the note into his book, hoping he would see it. As the pressure sounded, releasing the doors, you took one last look to see Benedict stirring. He looked around and then to you, offering a smile. You instantly offered one back, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you walked out onto the platform. Had it not been for all the people around, you would have done a Sherlock in A Study in Pink and jumped in the air in excitement. You were so dazed by the encounter you nearly bumped into people. Making your way out of the tube station, you fancied a cup of tea. You went to your favorite shop that was close by and ordered your favorite, a blueberry green tea. It always hit the spot when you were stressed out or just needed a chill out time. You chucked to yourself thinking, 'This is definitely a chill out time.' The wind had picked up outside, twirling leaves and debris into a mini-tornado as people started filing in to warm up. You decided to stay for a bit, taking out Hamlet to study it. The play was coming up and you needed to be ready. It was some time before you looked up upon hearing the door bell jingle. A gush of wind screamed at the pages of your book, shutting it violently. Loose papers flew around the shop haphazardly, their owners scrambling to grab them. You looked to the door, curious to see who had let in the offending element. You felt a whoosh of air leave your lungs as you stared at the door, or rather, the figure at the door. Standing there brushing leaves off his coat with leather gloved fingers was Benedict. His creamy tan coat graced his shoulders, the collar turned up against the wind. The bottom of the coat moved in a sensual, sinful dance as he walked to the counter, hugging his legs. Naturally he would make an entrance like that, you chuckled to yourself. He glanced to you as he passed and offered a smile, seeing a twinkling of recognition in his eyes. Pulling off his gloves, he ordered, the sound of his voice carrying across the small shop. Music to your ears. You closed your eyes as he made small talk with the barista, relishing in hearing it in person. The smell of Annick Goutal Eau de Monsieur caught your nose. Hints of mandarin orange, bergamot, mint, geranium, patchouli and sandalwood intoxicated you, making you feel lightheaded. It wasn't enough that the man himself was sinfully gorgeous but he smelled amazing too. Not that you were surprised. You opened your eyes, glancing around the shop, seeing others breathing in deeply, eyes closed, letting out a breath with half-lidded eyes. You noticed another peculiar thing when sweeping your eyes across the room; there were no seats left. Not daring to look for Ben again, you opened your book again and tried to focus on the words, silently praying (yet secretly wishing that he hadn't) that Ben had gotten his tea and left. You waited for the gush of wind from the opened door, but none came. "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" The voice came suddenly, causing you to jump, the book closing again. A waft of his cologne assaulted your nose again as the wind from him walking and stopping at the table caught up. You glanced up slowly, locking eyes on his and felt your face break out in a blush. "Not at all. Please!" You said, gesturing to the open chair. "Thank you." He said cheerfully with that to-die-for smile on his face. Be cool, be cool, be cool! You admonished yourself. Ben crossed his leg and turned in the chair, looking around the shop at the soft light and decorations that lined the rafters. You took the opportunity to look at him while he was distracted. He wore a maroon shirt like the one he wore in Sherlock, the buttons seemingly straining to keep it on him and black pants that outlined his legs. You trained your eyes back to his face, studying it. Your eyes focused on several points of interest, most notably his neck. A pale thick column of muscle as it was elongated to search the ceiling, matching up perfectly to his chiseled jawline. Your fingers twitched involuntarily, taking on a life of their own, desperate to feather down its length. Of course you would never be so brazen but you couldn't help but entertain the thought. Benedict turned then to face you, both of you letting out a chuckle at the normal than longer eye contact. You tucked a strand of hair back behind your ear, an action you unconsciously did when you were nervous, as you tried to calm the heat in your face. "So, what's your poison?" Benedict asked. The question took you by surprise. "I'm sorry?" "Tea, I mean." "Oh, duh. Haha. I really like blueberry green tea. It's a lighter green tea but very good. What about you?" I like a blend of Earl Grey with Lapang Souchong. It's a very smokey black tea, the Lapsang but it pairs nicely with the Earl Grey." "Is that what I smell? It smells like a brisket." "It does, doesn't it?" You share another chuckle together. You brought your hands up yo your tea mug, thumbs lightly stroking the sides. You didn't know what to talk to him about. It was awkward. "I have to say," you began, keeping your eyes fixed on your cup. You had a chance to tell him exactly what you had written in your note to him and you were going to take it. "I'm a huge fan and I'm honestly a little star-struck at having tea with you." You finished, looking up at him. It was his turn to blush, circling his finger around the top of the cup. "I'm flattered, thank you. I'm just like everyone else though. Nothing special." You threw him a look, you head slightly tilted, eyebrow raised with a smile on your face. He responded in kind, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. He looked to the book on the table. "Hamlet?" You looked down to the book, then back to Ben. "Yeah, I'm taking a Shakespeare class and we are performing Hamlet as a grade. I was awarded the part of Ophelia." "Oh, wow! How nice! I was Hamlet myself." "I know! And you were superb!" He laughed again, turning his face, giving you an eye full of those adorable crinkles. He faced you after a few moments. He seemed to be mulling over something in his head. He leaned back, crossing his leg, hand on the table. "Let's hear it, then."

"What?" "Let's recite a little bit. Pass the time." Your cheeks flared up, anxiety hitting you full force. Benedict Cumberbatch was offering to help you with your lines. "Oh, no. I couldn't possibly-" You stammered. "It's a great exercise. It will help with the anxiety of a live performance. May I?" He asked, gesturing to the book. "Of course." You said, passing the book to him. He picked it up, scanning for a good place to read from. You listen carefully as he begins, reading ahead in your mind to your lines so you can come in on time. "Ah! Here we go. Act III, Scene 1. To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life; for who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, the pangs of despised love, the law's delay, the insolence of office and the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy takes,When he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, the undiscover'd country from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sick lied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action.--Soft you now! The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remember'd." You shook yourself out of the stupor that had befallen you as he recited. It's like you were seeing him preform live right in front of your eyes. You stuttered as you struggled to think and once you'd placed them, you gave it your all. "Good my lord, How does your honour for this many a day?" "I humbly thank you; well, well, well." "My lord, I have remembrances of yours, That I have longed long to re-deliver; I pray you, now receive them." "No, not I; I never gave you aught." "My honour'd lord, you know right well you did; And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed as made the things more rich: their perfume lost, Take these again; for to the noble mind rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. There, my lord." "Ha, ha! are you honest?" "My lord?" "Are you fair?" "What means your lordship?" "That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty." "Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?" "Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once." He was mesmerizing to watch as he slipped into the character. Seeing him like that helped you to relax and really pull yourself into the part. What better way to practice than by reciting lines with someone who not only had grown up in theatre but who had played the lead role himself! "Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so." "You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it: I loved you not." "I was the more deceived." "Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me: I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves, all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your father?" You struggled to retain your composure after the intensity of his delivery, the shy, uncertain meekness creeping back in. "At home, my lord." Your voice was quiet. "Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house. Farewell." "O, help him, you sweet heavens!" "If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague forthy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, go: farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go,and quickly too. Farewell." "O heavenly powers, restore him!" "I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages: those that are married already, all but one, shall live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go." He finished his part and looked to you, expectantly, waiting for you to continue. You let out a deep sigh. "I can't." "Why not? You were doing so well!" "I'm sorry, it's just...I pale in comparison to the amazing delivery that you have. I feel as though I'm watching you perform live right in front of me. This is so surreal. From seeing you on the tube, to having tea with you and now reciting Hamlet with you...it's extremely overwhelming." He reached over the table and grabbed your hand, squeezing it in comfort. "I'm sorry if I have upset you." "Oh gosh, no! The anxiety of doing this in public and if the intensity of the delivery is making it difficult to keep the good lid i have in my emotions secure." You finish with a small smile, not meeting his eyes. "I understand completely. In all the theatre productions I've done, I still get nervous." He squeezed your hand harder, making you look at him. "You've got this." He said with a smile. You smiled and let out a small, nervous laugh. Sitting back in your chair closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, let it out, opened your eyes and began Ophelia's monologue. "What a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword; The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observed of all observers, quite, quite down! And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, That suck'd the honey of his music vows, Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled out of tune, and harsh; That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me, To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!" You had been looking off, focusing on a distant point as you recited. You took another deep breath when you finished, your body slightly shaking and met Benedict's gaze once again. He was smiling brilliantly at you. He opened his mouth to say something when the roar of applause interrupted. You and Benedict looked around startled, seeing everyone in the coffee shop standing and clapping. Your face was immediately hot as Ben looked back at you laughing, his own face red. He reached his hand out to yours, taking it in his as you both stood up and bowed to the cacophony. "That was brilliant! You were wonderful!" He looked taken aback then appalled by something. "Oh my God. I am so sorry. I don't even know your name. I am so sorry." You couldn't help but chuckle as he looked so stricken not knowing your name. "It's okay. It's Y/N." "That was a most ungentlemanly thing to do on my part. I am so sorry." "Mr. Cumberbatch, I assure you it is okay." "Ben, please." He offered his hand, which you met. "It is a pleasure to meet you." "It is an honor." You replied, to which he chuckled softly. You glanced at your watch, not realizing it was so late. "Oh, my goodness Is it that late already? Well, this has been lovely but, sadly, I have to head home now or frankly, I would be here all night with you. Thank you very much for your time today. It was wonderful and I will truly cherish this once in a lifetime encounter." You stood up, putting your coat on and grabbed your messenger bag. You stuck your hand out to shake Ben's. "It was a pleasure, Benedict." "The pleasure is all mine." He said as he kissed your hand. You grabbed the table quickly to avoid falling over. "You do know that I have to walk out of here, right? My knees have now been effectively reduced to jelly." He chuckled and stood up, offering you his arm. You blushed and took it, just because you'd never get another chance too. You both chuckled softly as you walked to the tea shop door, Ben slipping his arm out of your grasp to hold the door open for you. "Thank you, sir. How gentlemanly." You both shared a laugh at the inside joke until you met each other's faces again in an awkward stare. "You take care and I look forward to seeing you on the big screen soon." You stuck your hand out once again for him to shake, fighting every sensor in your body that wanted to hug him. He took it firmly but softly. As your hands parted, you pulled the collar of your coat up and turned to walk towards your flat your heart hammering in your chest as you recounted the day's events in your head. A few minutes later you thought you heard your name being called. You sometimes heard things even when there wasn't anything to be heard and passed it off to the wind. As the seconds passed, it became harder and harder to think it wasn't your name being called by a deep voice. "Y/N! Wait!" You turned to see Benedict running towards you, walking towards him as he caught up to see he was carrying something. "You...you forgot your book." "Oh my gosh," you said, taking the outstretched book. "Thank you so much! I would've gone crazy looking for it." "You're welcome." He bent over, trying to catch his breath. "Are you going to make it?" You asked, laughing. "Yeah. I'll be fine. Gimme a minute." He said in between large breaths and gulps of air. You looked to him, then around you, then back to him. He was still bent over, hands on his knees. You placed your hand on his back, leaning down near his face, prepared to ask him again if he was okay, when his head suddenly popped up. In a hot second, his hands had encompassed your head, his lips joining yours in a passionate, yet gentle kiss. You leaned against the rail for stability, bringing your own hands up to his neck and head. When you finally broke the kiss, you kept your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath after he literally and figuratively took it away. You unconsciously drew your bottom lip into your teeth, savoring the taste of cinnamon on it. His forehead touched yours and you both started to laugh.

“Well…that’s a fine goodbye.” You said on a giggle, swallowing thickly while you looked at the ground.

He lifted his head from yours, looking straight into your eyes, still holding your neck in his hands, just a breath away.

“Gotcha.”

You met his eyes, looking back and forth between them.

“I could stare into those eyes until the end of time and never grow tired of it.”

He moved his hand up higher, thumb dragging lazily up and down your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into it, placing your hand on the outside of his. As if suddenly remembering himself, he dropped his hands and stepped back.

”I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”He said, a soft laughter escaping his lips, shaking his head slightly, touching his lips nervously with his fingers.

You put your hand on your hip, sticking it out in a mock display of drama. “You cheeky monkey! You said.

He met your eyes and upon seeing that you weren’t angry with him, he laughed in return.

“I could say the same about myself. Kissing a man I just met. In all honesty though, I can’t honestly say I’ve never thought about it. Thank you for making this day so much better.”

He smiled really wide then and pulled you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around him and let yourself feel him as he laid his cheek on your head, both of you slightly turning side to side.

It was the night of the play and you were feeling all kinds of nervous. Shaking your fingers and bouncing on the balls of your feet, you waited for the production to begin, trying to calm yourself and anchor down by remembering the time with Ben in the tea shop. You hadn’t seen him since that day, but then deep down, you hadn’t been expecting to. It was a chance meeting, a random encounter with an even more random surprise kiss. He went on about his life, filming the upcoming limited series Patrick Melrose. So did you, albeit a little changed.. You still didn’t quite understand what the day had been, but you would remember it forever. But, deep in the recesses of your mind, you wished he could be there to see what the fruits of his kind gesture had produced. The show went spectacularly, garnering a standing ovation for all of you. You and the actor playing Hamlet took your final bow before the curtain fell in front of you the cast all yelling together in triumph of a job well done. Letting down your hair and shaking it out, you made your way back to your dressing room. Rounding the corner, you saw people standing at your door. Confused, you quickened your pace. "Guys, what's wrong?" The whispers stopped as you made your way to the front of the crowd. On the table was a huge assortment of roses, each one more beautiful than the last. You walked over to it, picking up the card and reading it silently. To my dearest Y/N, I told you you got this! You were marvelous. Well done. - Cheeky Monkey "Who is that from?" A stage hand asked. You tried hard to hide your smile. "I don't know." you lied. You knew exactly who it was from.

Epilogue

A few months later, Ben was on The Screen Actors Guild awards, receiving his award for best actor in a limited TV series. "Yay! He got it!" You exclaimed to your dog, who wagged her tail at you. You sat down next to her, barely on your seat as he spoke. As he took the cards out of his pocket, you noticed something fall to the stage floor. Your eyes went wide as you stared at the TV, recognizing the floral print paper you had written your note to him on. He cleared his throat as he put the piece of paper back into his shirt pocket. You were hanging on every word he said, tears in your eyes. "'These moments...are a treasure...and I'll shall cherish them always. Thank you so much." He had looked straight into the camera, sneaking in a wink at the end, knowing deep down that last bit was meant for you.

#benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch x reader #fluff #cute #hamlet #recite #play #Passing Notes

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tefltraininginstitute · 4 years

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Going From Teacher To Buisness Owner (with Ed Dudley, Jake Whiddon & Peter Liu)

Have you ever thought about starting your own school, start-up or just going freelance? As the educational landscape changes due to Covid, branching out on your own is becoming a necessity for many teachers. This week I speak with three people who have gone from being teachers to becoming their own bosses. Peter Liu tells us how he got the inspiration for his online education company, Jake Whiddon tells us why he founded his own school after fifteen years of working for other people and Ed Dudley tells us what kind of people should avoid going freelance.

Links

Ed in the Crowd - Ed Dudley's blog

ETpedia Teenagers - Ed's book on teaching teens

Owl ABC - Peter Liu's Ed-tech company

Going From Teacher To Buisness Owner (with Ed Dudley, Jake Whiddon & Peter Liu)

Peter Liu from Owl ABC on starting a start-up

Ross: Peter, you started your own business a year and a half ago. Before you tell us about what it is, what made you want to start your own company?

Peter Liu: My current co‑founder and I, we've been good friends for several years. He's also in education. He's got 15 some odd years of experience. We saw this trend of thousands of Chinese kids going abroad to study.

There was a study done several years back that showed 25 percent of Chinese students going to an Ivy League school fail, 25 percent. When I read that statistic, that blew my mind.

There's a gap in skills that Chinese students have, who are attending school abroad. There are tons and tons of services that help kids in China improve their English. They can help with their test‑taking of the IELs and the TOEFL. It only ever seems to go as far as your first day of university so you can get into school.

How do you actually stay in and succeed? I've been working at this education technology startup. We built a whole bunch of fancy tech. I worked very closely with the product and the engineering teams. I had a little bit of experience building an online product.

Ross: This is almost like working in a startup prepared you to start your own startup?

Peter: Yeah, you could say that.

Ross: Did that take some of the fear out of it, as well?

Peter: It's that and also our product is not technically that challenging. We're not building a technology company. We're building a services company.

Ross: How has what your company does changed from what you originally visioned, compared with now?

Peter: The biggest change was our business model. Originally, we were focused on a B2C model, basically, selling our services and our content directly to consumers. We quickly found that we don't have the local knowledge of how to message, how to create marketing channels to reach these consumers.

We made the decision to shift our focus to B2B, licensing our content and our teaching to other education companies so that they could do the heavy lifting of marketing directly to their students. They already have students who are, perhaps, learning English from them, but who need to build their critical thinking skills. That's where we come in.

Ross: Can I ask you a question about money and stuff? Let me give you an analogy here. I remember once climbing a mountain. When you're climbing a high mountain, it's a little bit dangerous. You have a turnaround time. If we don't get to the top by four o'clock, we're going to turn around. Because if we're walking down in the dark, it's really, really dangerous.

Do you have that with the business where you're like, "If we're not starting to make money, or if we're not able to break even within 12 months or two years, then I'm going to quit this and go back to teaching English." How does that work?

Peter: It depends what scale company you're doing, and also how disciplined you are with finances.

[laughter]

Peter: Basically, how much money do you have in the bank, and how long can that sustain you? What is your burn rate? How much money are you spending?

Ross: Cool. Can I ask you then what would you say if there's one thing I really wish I knew or I paid more attention to when I first started this, I should have done this. What do you think that would be?

Peter: I'm a big proponent of the lean startup methodology which is, basically, applying the scientific method to operating a business. You form a hypothesis. You run tests to either validate or invalidate that hypothesis. Then you either proceed if you validate your hypothesis or you change course.

I wish we'd applied that methodology a little bit more rigorously to the early stages of our product development, because of the business environment that we're operating in. We were very cautious in marketing, and putting ourselves out there, and putting our product out there.

Ross: In case someone stole the idea.

Peter: Precisely.

Jake Whiddon on starting your own school

Ross: Hi, Jake.

Jake Whiddon: Hi, Ross.

Ross: You started your own kids' school recently. You've been involved in TOEFL for about 15 years. What made you want to open your own school now at this point in your career?

Jake: Honestly, I felt that I had worked for long enough for big companies. I wanted to have some control over the output of what I was doing. I felt I reached, not a ceiling, but a point where there was nowhere else I could go with what I personally wanted to do with education. That's the reason.

Ross: Jake, how did you choose the people to go into business with? There's so many people you know, but why did you choose the people who work with you now?

Jake: It's really interesting. For a long time, I'd always wanted to start a business with another one of your ex‑guests called Dave Welleble. I realized that we were too similar. We were very similar. What I had to do was find someone who could complement my skills. I've got some skills that come up with creative ideas in trying to have operations experience.

I needed someone who knew how to network, do finances, work with people, and communicate better, and then that person came along. It's someone I'd worked with 10 years ago, and they just came out of the blue and said, "Hey, by the way, I'm actually looking for someone who can work together."

I think the best decision was finding someone who I knew well but can complement the way they work. That old adage of never work with your friends, I don't think that that's true. I think that you should work with your friends.

A point a friend was making to me the other day was, I met this person through working with him, not through being a friend. I knew I could work with him. I think that's worked really, really well.

Ross: How did you go about getting an investor then, because, obviously, opening a school requires a lot of funds?

Jake: You don't find people to invest in your school, they find you. There's a lot of people in China with a lot of money that they don't know how to spend. They need to spend it on something, whether it's a gym or a hairdresser, or something they want to do. For us, it was someone who knew they wanted to do something in education, but they didn't know how to.

They came to us and said, "Can you guys do something with education for us?" Which is what I find most people say. On saying that, though, people are still looking for investors.

The way it happens in China is you're just constantly networking. You never know why the person that you're talking to might be the person who can invest money in you one day. That's something to remember.

Ross: What skills do you think you've learned in other parts of your career that helped you the most in running your own school?

Jake: Well, none. No, I want to say none. No, I say that as a joke. It's amazing how little I knew. I mean, I ran five, four different schools as a [inaudible 08:20. I ran 12 schools as a regional manager. I ran 40 schools as a national manager. I controlled budgets of two million dollars. You know what? A lot of those skills didn't help me at all.

What they helped me with was operations. They helped me with efficiency. They helped me with things, like knowing that you're using classrooms at the right efficiency. You're using teachers at the right amount. You're utilizing people in the right way.

It didn't teach me how to run a business. With all the experience in the world, I have learned more in the last eight months of how much I didn't know.

Ross: What have you had to learn when your started your business? Is there anything that you've never experienced before, or something that you felt, "Oh, this is something brand new to me, and I have to start learning"?

Jake: I'm learning that without a big budget for marketing, for example, we can't go and afford a math/science and blanket. You have to think everything we're thinking. We have to flip it over and think about it from the bottom up. That's probably the first one. The other one is people don't want to work for a company that no one's heard of.

People want to work for big name companies. Who wants to work for a place that has only one school? Lastly is how much relationships matter. The relationship you have obviously with the customer but also mainly with everyone around you, everyone. The Fire Department, the Visa Office, everyone you have to have a relationship with.

You're constantly having to deal with each of these people. We talk about bureaucracy, but bureaucracy might be a good thing because, at least, it means there's some bureaucratic process. Here, it all comes back to relationships.

Ross: Finally, Jake. What advice do you have for teachers thinking about starting their own school?

Jake: Remember, that's my last advice. The industry is never as caught up as you are. Whatever you're thinking, the market is probably two steps behind you. The market needs to be educated to get to where you are first.

Ross: Thanks, Jake. Bye‑bye.

Jake: Bye, Ross.

Ed Dudley on going freelance

Ross: Ed, you obviously started off as a teacher teaching full‑time. Do you want to tell us about how did you go from teaching full‑time to becoming now a freelance teacher trainer and author?

Ed Dudley: You're right. I began teaching full‑time. Then very gradually, I began to be invited to speak at local conferences and to do, perhaps, weekend events for teachers in the local area. Then gradually I was invited to do more work, which involved going to another country for a few days to do some teacher training. I would balance that with my school work.

I would rearrange my classes, or I would get colleagues to cover my classes in my absence, which was, again, a difficult balancing act. There was no masterplan there for me. I simply did it slowly and incrementally over time. The amount of teaching that I was doing gradually reduced. The amount of training and materials writing that I was doing gradually increased.

Ross: There are a lot of teachers considering becoming a freelancer. Are there any tips or recommendation for this group of people?

Ed: It has the potential to cause sleepless nights if you're going to suddenly do it cold turkey. I was in a position where I could try out freelance work, freelance life with a safety net. I tend to have the philosophy that if you focus on doing a good job on what's in front of you, then that will lead to good things in the future.

I've always remembered that it's important to be aware of what your strengths are. If I'm asked or invited to do something that I don't think is aligned with my strengths, then I say "no" to that. It can be tough when you're a freelancer to say "no" to something.

There's a lot of pressure on us to take every opportunity that comes our way. It is important not to bite off more than we can chew as well, and to make sure we do a good job by saying "yes" to the things that we're confident we can do well, and "no" to the things that we don't think we can do well.

Ross: What do you think are the advantages of the freelance life?

Ed: The key advantages, that if you have the mentality or you have the personality that can deal with the uncertainties of the freelance life.

In other words, if you're not too freaked out by the fact that you're not quite sure what's going to be happening 12 months from now, then that gives you an awful amount of freedom. It gives you a chance to focus on your own professional development.

I find that I'm able to do a lot more reading. I'm able to find time to plan my work with much more freedom and less frazzledness than when I was balancing my training work with my full‑time job. It gives you a chance also to make last minute decisions as well.

Very often, you'll find that an opportunity comes up at very short notice to travel somewhere and do some work. You have this really exciting opportunity to go somewhere you've never been before, to work with people you've never met before. That's an incredibly stimulating and enjoyable way to work.

#career #career advancement #teacher management #start ups #freelance #ed-tech #Jake Whiddon #Peter Liu #Publishing #Edmund Dudley #ETpedia #management

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fiore-della-valle · 7 years

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Writing questions tag

I was tagged by @cookiedoughmeagain - thanks, lovely! (Also responding to the open tag by @grey-haven )

1) How many works in progress do you currently have in progress?

Ahahahaha. Um. I have three major unfinished works posted to AO3, all of which I still consider in progress. I have, in my ‘currently active’ pile, approximately twenty different stories/series, of which three are original fic/worlds. But in terms of like, stories I have started, have put at least 5k words into, and intend to eventually finish somehow... I have at least nine original worlds and literally hundreds of fics. A lot of which are sitting in the 15k-50k word range, but that just. Aren’t done.

2) Do you/would you write fanfiction?

I write a ton of Haven fic, even if it’s only ever posted infrequently. I have very occasionally dabbled in other fandoms, and certainly don’t automatically reject the idea of writing more stories in other fandoms. In order to finish my current pile of started projects, I expect I will be writing Haven fic until I die just to try and clear out my ideas folder.

3) Do you prefer paper books or ebooks?

Depends on the situation. I do like paper books, and I adore that a paper book will never run out of battery on me mid-flight, for example. However, I love being able to put seven thousand different stories into my pocket, so most of my reading for the last few years has been ebooks. I would love to be able to have both an ebook copy and a hard copy of everything.

4) When did you start writing?

Complicated question. I had a few notebooks with the first few pages of stories written down in them from about the time I was twelve, but the first piece of writing that ever made me feel like I was good at it, like it was something I wanted to do, and might even be able to do, was a poem I wrote for an eighth grade assignment. After that, there was a lot of poetry, and then the first real story I started was when I was fourteen or fifteen, and I hand-wrote about two hundred pages of really terrible fantasy story that I shared with my friends during lunch breaks. From that point on, I always had some writing happening somewhere, which got much easier once I learned how to type. I didn’t start writing fanfiction in any serious capacity until... 2011? Maybe? When I dabbled in the Castle fandom. But it was at the end of 2014 when writing fic kind of took over my life, when I stumbled into the Haven fandom.

5) Do you have someone you trust that you share your work with?

Definitely, I would not get anything accomplished otherwise. @serendipityxxi is the best and puts up with my complete inability to keep focused, and gets all of my random story bits. @kedreeva, @redbirdblogs, @yumearashi, @queenbookwench, and pretty much the whole Haven crew usually have access to my WIP files, and are gracious enough to occasionally peek in and remind me to actually do things. I have another group who sometimes listen to me babble about original fic, so they get those links when they want. And I cannot express how incredibly grateful I am to all of them, because seriously, I would not get anything accomplished without the feedback and encouragement from all these wonderful people.

6) Where is your favorite place to write?

My couch, when the house is mostly empty/quiet, and I can turn the music on, and settle under some blankets. Very occasionally, my porch, on the other couch, when it’s cool and dark and there are night-sounds happening.

7) Favorite childhood book?

Jurassic Park, and both the Emelan and Tortall series by @tamorapierce. I have read my Circle of Magic books so many times that they are starting to disintegrate, and Wild Magic will always be one of those stories that brings me a sense of home. Also Polgara the Sorceress, by David and Leigh Eddings, though it has been a long time since I’ve re-visited that universe.

8) Writing for fun or writing for publication?

Both. I do desperately want to get some of my original stuff done and polished to the point where I can get it published, because I like my worlds and I want to be able to share them someday. But I love writing fic, I love it, and I take an incredible amount of joy out of re-imagining and expanding familiar worlds and favorite characters.

9) Pen and paper or computer?

99% of the time, computer. Because I can type much faster and for much longer than I can hand-write, and also I have a tendency to edit as I go, which is a thousand times simpler when I don’t have to cross out and re-write whole paragraphs as I realize the flow is wrong. However, sometimes, I just really really need the texture and visual of a notebook and pen, and it’s easier for me to hand-write than type on a phone, so if I’m out and about, I’ll usually have a notebook with me just in case.

10) Have you ever taken any writing classes?

Yes, the most useful of which was the writer’s workshop I participated in for a year or two. It met once a week, and we’d go in, work on projects, and get feedback.

11) What inspires you to write?

I can’t imagine not writing, honestly. I am not always good at it, and I don’t always make a lot of progress, but stories are my life, they keep me going. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I wasn’t writing. And specific inspiration- I wouldn’t even know how to describe it. I can turn around wrong and have an entire universe download itself into my head- I was visiting a friend and saw a Suspicious Cocoon and now have a horror story unfolding, I saw a picture of an armband and needed to start developing a language so I could write a fantasy story that showed up with it. It’s random, and often overwhelming, but music is one frequent source of ideas/feelings/moods for writing.

Tagging anybody who wants to give this a go, but specifically @kedreeva, @redbirdblogs, and @chasingshhadows (though obviously no pressure if you don’t feel like it). I think everyone else I would usually tap has already gotten a tag (and if /not/, consider this a tag if you feel like it).

#tag game #writing #writing questions tag

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yannasunflower · 7 years

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Blood and Magic - Ch. 2

here it is, chapter 2!!! second chapters terrify me tbh! but i did it! again, this story is inspired by @constellunaa amazing artwork, please check it out, you won’t regret it! please reblog and review and all that good stuff. let me know what you think!

Summary: Life at a school for young witches and wizards is exciting enough; toss in some assassinations, a distant king, and a cryptic prophecy, and things get interesting. Mix carefully. Blend in a little romance. And try to avoid blowing up the world as they know it.

Chapter 2

The mess hall, Lucy was not shocked to discover, was indeed, a mess. The room was enormous, enough to house a hundred people at least. It was also, at the moment, wild, uncontrolled chaos and as she munched steadily on her grilled cheese, she was amazed it hadn't evolved into a full-scale food war. There were at least two tables upturned, food was smeared on the floor and walls, and bursts of brightly colored magic were soaring over their heads. Students were laughing and shouting in turn, their eyes bright as they called out spells and taunts. Natsu and the boys had joined the fray immediately with worryingly large grins on their faces. Natsu was now hurling insults at whatever studnets passed him from behind an upended table and Gajeel was leering up at a massive man that couldn't possibly be their age.

Lucy sighed, taking a sip of her water. Levy was reading beside her, Juvia completely focused on ogling Gray, who had somehow lost his shirt in the process of tackling a boy with startling yellow hair. Lucy observed the chaos, finding herself laughing as Natsu was knocked to the ground by Gray, who had apparently changed his target in the span of ten seconds. A girl with wild, scarlet hair intervened, smashing the both of them into a wall effortlessly. Lucy flinched, startled by the violence of the act. Both boys appeared unhurt but Lucy barely stopped herself from sending the girl a nasty look nonetheless. It was funny. She'd barely known the boys an hour and already, she wanted to spill blood for them.

She'd heard about the bonds created at the school. Something about the magic infused in the building, the soil, even the air. Dorm mates often forged lifelong, iron strong bonds with each other. Lucy had thought it a bit dramatic, whenever anyone talked about it. Families to this day held alliances formed at the school between some distant relative or another. She didn't understand how just living in close quarters for four years could bond people so much. But she was beginning to see, already. She could feel it in her bones and blood, the way her body stirred when they went flying through the air, or when Natsu turned and she saw the bruise on his cheek. She would bloody her knuckles in a heartbeat for her dorm mates, break bones and shatter walls. She glanced over at Levy, who continued to read intently, paying no mind to the chaos surrounding them. The blue haired girl had been the first to not completely lose it over Lucy's family name and she was grateful. She would always be grateful.

Lucy felt a familiar tug in her chest. It was Plue letting her know he had eaten and was looking for her. She frowned as she paused her eating, homing in on Plue's signature and sending out a whining call through their link. It was almost like a beacon; he flashed his signal and she flashed hers, waiting for him to catch her scent. She missed her familiar; if he was gone for too long, it felt like missing a couple fingers, or her foot. She needed him there or her entire world was off balance.

Moments later, she felt more than saw him slip through the door of the mess hall. He skillfully evaded the food being flung and the people throwing punches and tackling others. He nudged her with his cold nose and she patted him gently, slipping him a bite of her sandwich.

"Did you eat well?" she asked him, laughing as he wagged his tail in response. A demon with such an animal-like nature was funny to her, considering the not so pleasant ones she had met in the past during her training. Plue certainly acted the part in his dog form and he sat there panting at her as she finished her meal.

"Is that your familiar?" Levy asked, looking up from her book for the first time the entire meal.

Lucy nodded, stroking Plue's silky ears fondly.

"Yes, this is Plue," she said. "I summoned him when I was eight, but I'm sure you know all about that."

Levy laughed in response, waving her book in the air. In the short time Lucy had known her, it was already extremely apparent that Levy loved books more than most things in the world. She wouldn't be surprised if she became first in their class. Competition, Lucy noted. Her father wouldn't accept anything less than number one for her, especially if it was because of a witch not even born to magical parents. But she found it difficult to resent Levy for it.

"Surprisingly, not really. There's very little details on your family's familiar rituals. It's all very hush hush I guess," Levy answered.

Lucy wasn't surprised; their familiars were like no others she knew of, bonded for life. The contract only expired with death. It was a bond no other could touch, not even family ties or marriage. No magic could break it but the death of one of them. Plue rest his head on her lap, sensing the melancholy turn of her thoughts, and Lucy stroked him absently, thinking of the massive portrait at home of her mother with Nara, her familiar. Her mother's hand rest in Nara's fur, both of them looking straight ahead, a gentle power etched into her mother's face framed by golden hair and sunlight. The day her mother died, Nara had been beside her till her last breath. When her chest had still, Nara had released the most heartbreaking sound Lucy had ever heard in her life. She had cried at the sound of it, cried as Nara continued to cry, the wails sound more like songs than anything. Songs of grief. Of mourning. The look Nara had given her had been so full of pain. And for the first time in her life, Lucy heard Nara speak.

Layla, she had wailed before finally fading away, returning to the world she had come from.

Lucy had tried to summon her a thousand times since, to no avail. She wanted to hear her speak once more, wanted to know everything her mother had told the demon. Nara refused the summons every time. It had been years since Lucy had tried again. She knew the previous familiar probably still mourned her partner's death and she realized as she grew older and more attached to Plue, that losing a bond like that required more healing than she could possibly imagine. Lucy couldn't even bear the idea of Plue dying and leaving her alone. Once a familiar returned to the Shadow Lands, it could never return as her familiar.

Lucy focused in on Levy again, realizing belatedly the girl was waiting for a response.

"It's very old magic," she replied honestly. She gazed down at Plue, who whined as he glanced up at her.

"Plue is a different sort of name for a demon," Levy said thoughtfully.

Lucy shrugged, downing the rest of her water and standing.

"I suppose –"

She was interrupted by a body flying over their heads and into the wall.

Levy and Juvia shrieked while Lucy whirled, mouth open. Natsu slid to the ground, sitting up a few seconds later, a sheepish smile on his face. His cheek was bruised and his lip was bleeding but he waved at them cheerfully, laughing as he scratched the back of his head.

"Sorry to startle ya'," he called. He stood, shaking the dust off of him and taking a seat on the other side of Lucy. Juvia was staring at him, brow furrowed, and Levy just sighed, picking up her book once again.

"You're going to get hurt," Lucy chided halfheartedly. She had a feeling it took a lot to actually hurt Natsu. His father's magic and family were said to be descended from dragons, wielding elemental magic that was deeply rooted in both the earth and legend. Either way, it was known for supernatural fast healing abilities and strength. Lucy swore she could already see the bruise healing on his cheek and the cut on his lip had stopped bleeding already.

"So Luigi," Natsu began, ignoring her feeble attempts to control his violently energetic behavior.

Lucy blinked, mouth open once more. Levy snorted and Juvia hid her titters behind her hand. Gajeel dropped into the seat beside Levy, roaring with laughter.

"Luigi," he choked out, taking Levy's water and downing it. The small girl glared at him and he merely flashed her a grin. "You've always sucked at names, Natsu."

"Wait, what's your name then?" Natsu asked, completely nonplussed.

"Lucy," she growled through gritted teeth. Plue growled low in his chest, ears falling backward.

"Oh!" Natsu exclaimed, fingers snapping. "Lucy, that's right. What's up with the dog?"

Plue bared his teeth in a snarl and Natsu backed away from her a few inches, hands raised in a way to make him appear less formidable.

"Plue is a familiar," she explained patiently. She stroked his ears, soothing him for the time being, though he still threw Natsu dirty looks. She could sense his displeasure through her link and she smiled. Plue didn't like being mistaken for a dog, despite the extremely close resemblance in this form.

"His true form is a little more intimidating," she said with a laugh.

"He's plenty intimidating in this form," Natsu mumbled. He smiled nonetheless though. "He's really cool!"

He grinned at her, big and bright despite the bruise on his face, and Lucy was taken back. His joy was like the sun, scorching, but not entirely unpleasant. He radiated a sort of heat and happiness that was impossible to imitate or fake. He was genuinely happy. He reminded her of a puppy, young and always ready for the next adventure. Lucy thought of her home, of the empty hallways and cold rooms and the even colder eyes of her father. She had met Igneel only once but she remembered his eyes as he had greeted her. Warm, filled with fire. He had never treated her like a stupid child, like most of her father's friends did. She wondered what it would have been like to be raised by him. To roam the Draconia lands freely, tussling with his cousins and playing pranks on Gray when he visited, for it was clear they were old friends. She imagined sun-soaked days and warm, humid nights spent counting stars and catching fireflies. She saw, in his smile, the sort of childhood she had always yearned for. She couldn't hate him for it; it was impossible to hate Natsu, with his pink hair and dark eyes and wide smile. But it made her chest ache. Plue whined next to her, nuzzling her hand. Natsu frowned as he sensed her mood change, the sunshine suddenly sucked from his expression. She mourned it, hating herself for being the reason anything other than happiness was etched across his face.

"Luigi?" he asked. She didn't even twitch at the new nickname, trying to urge her mouth into some semblance of a smile. "What's wrong?"

"Just tired," she said softly. She stood, wrapping her arms around her. "I'm going to head up and finish getting settled in. I'll see you guys later."

They called their various goodbyes. She tried to ignore Natsu's concerned gaze as she walked away, Plue trotting faithfully at her heels.

He didn't need to be burdened by her imaginary troubles.

He reminds me of your favorite flowers, Mama. Tall and reaching toward the light always. Hard to cut. Their color impossible to dim or diminish in any way.

He makes me miss you even more. It hurts to see him smile sometimes.

I wish you could meet him, Mama. You would like him.

With love,

Your Star Lucy

After years of conditioning by her strict tutors and father, Lucy woke up naturally at an ungodly hour of the morning. At six her eyes snapped open and she sighed, deeply. How she longed for the ability to sleep in like a normal teenager. What was it like to wake up with everyone else, around ten in the morning, the sun already up? The light streaming through the blinds on her balcony door was faint, blue and quiet. The birds were barely starting to sing. She groaned as she sat up, stretching her legs and rolling her neck. One day, she vowed, one day she would sleep in past seven in the morning. As it were, she rose, slipping on her thin pink robe and bunny slippers before carefully stepping over a soundly sleeping Plue and shuffling out to the small kitchenette she shared with her dorm. Even my demon sleeps in, she grumbled silently, starting up the coffee machine that had been provided for them. Her mug, a pale blue with a white egg on it, was set beside it and she hummed under her breath as she waited for the coffee to pour into it.

The previous night had been a late one, her dormmates all getting to know each other with a rousing game of twenty one questions. It seemed slightly childish to Lucy but it had been fun and she had laughed at some of the outrageous questions the boys had asked.

Besides the three she had met already, there was also Sting and Rogue, the pair members of yet another branch of the Draconia family. Lucy was surprised so many of the Draconia members had been placed together in the same dorm. But it made the introductions slightly less awkward, as they already knew each other and the boys were comfortable, roaring with laughter the whole night. Lucy had tried to avoid Natsu's eyes, the expression in them reminding her of her mother, paining her. She could tell he was hurt by her behavior toward him but she didn't have it in her to remedy it.

They had also met her other girl roommates, Minerva and Yukino. She recognized Yukino's family name vaguely, knowing only that their magic was similar to her mother's. But they were a small, inconsequential family. Minerva, however, was daughter to a rather powerful Lord. Many rumors circulated about his rather nasty personality, but also his even more powerful magic. It was rare, the ability to manipulate space. Lucy nearly felt chills go down her spine as Minerva introduced herself, eyes zeroing in on Lucy at once.

"A Heartfilia?" she had hummed, the sound somehow sinister despite how calm it was.

"We are blessed, aren't we," she sneered. Lucy had felt mocked and Plue had growled low in his throat, a warning. Minerva backed off, though her eyes continued to flit to Lucy throughout the whole game, lips curved into an unfriendly snarl. Yukino seemed to follow her lead, her attitude towards Lucy more cold than outwardly malicious like Minerva's.

Lucy didn't like her very much. No, not very much at all.

If anyone else had picked up on the weird energy, they had not commented, and she was grateful for it.

Lucy was brought out of her thoughts by the soft ding of the coffee machine, letting her know that her coffee was done. Nearly singing with anticipation, she stirred in her sugar, the lovely aroma of the coffee washing over her as she did so. In her peace, she didn't hear someone behind her and thus, nearly screamed when a hand touched her shoulder. She felt Plue startle awake and knew he'd be at her side in five seconds.

"What," she gasped, spinning. A sleepy Gajeel stood there, yawning and towering over her.

"What the hell," she whisper-yelled, "are you doing? I think I just had a stroke!" She calmed her racing heart, sucking in deep breaths and letting Plue know she was okay with a shaky smile. He hovered in the hallway, unsure, before settling right at the entrance.

Gajeel opened his mouth to reply, eyes falling to her feet. He suddenly doubled over, body shaking with laughter he was desperately trying to cover. She could tell he was trying not to wake anyone up but was also about to explode with mirth. Plue bristled at the sudden movement while Lucy frowned, not quite sure what he was laughing at so much. Was her hair sticking up weird? She'd only just woken up after all, what did he expect?

"What?" she finally asked, exasperated. Gajeel could hardly speak, breathless as he was. He looked up at her, exploding once more into silent laughter. Lucy nearly smiled with him.

"B-b-bunnies," he stuttered, face red with exertion.

The beginnings of her smile vanished and Lucy glared at him, hands on her hips. The ears of her bunny slippers wobbled as she shifted her weight to her left leg. They were cute and soft and they kept her feet perfectly warm. She didn't see the issue with them.

"What about them?" she snapped.

He was still shaking, snickering quietly.

"Nothing, Bunny Girl," he snorted, waving her aside so he could get to the coffee machine. "Nothing at all. They're cute, really."

"Oh, shove it," Lucy muttered mutinously and he grinned at her.

"Nice to know Miss Prim and Proper can be a little foul mouthed sometimes," he leered.

She grabbed her mug, sticking her tongue out at him and sending him into another fit of quiet laughter. It was really too early for his antics and she didn't have any coffee in her system, which meant she wasn't equipped to deal with it. She stalked away and Plue followed her, his true irritation at having been woken up for virtually nothing finally leaking through the bond.

"Sorry, boy," she muttered apologetically.

Once back in their room, Plue hopped up to her bed and settled down, ignoring her protests as he shut his eyes and fell back asleep. Demons technically did not need sleep but Lucy knew Plue loved it almost as much as she did. And as a Defense familiar in peaceful times, there was little more for him to do when she wasn't training with him.

She opened the door to her small balcony, reveling in the fresh air that swept over her face, brushing the stray stands of loose hair away from her face. She stepped out, steaming mug in hand. She leaned her forearms against the balcony and her hair spilled over her shoulders, sipping at her hot coffee, watching as the sun rose steadily in the distance. A little to her left she could see the Capital. She was surprised, having forgotten just how close the school was to it. Invisible to Everydays' eyes, Lucy looked at it with interest, tracing the silver outline of the palace as the sun glinted off of it. She had only been to the Capital a few times in her life; the crowded, noisy streets had always frightened her a little. The smells were all so new, assaulting her nose and the people always seemed to busy, rushing everywhere. Now, only a couple miles of forest separated her from it, from the King and all of his stuffy nobles and intimidating knights.

The King was getting old, or so she'd heard. Whispers flew that he was mad, hardly intelligible anymore, and had been attempting to make harsher laws forbidding any sort of interaction with Everday's and magicians. He'd always been a little prejudiced but it seemed in his old age, he was growing more stubborn in his beliefs. People also feared he had completely cut ties with their neighboring kingdoms and that diplomatic alliances were wavering dangerously close to deteriorating. While their largest neighbor, Pergrande, was across the sea, their other neighbors Dragof and Victoria were close, sharing borders with Fiore. The King must truly be mad if he was antagonizing them, and she prayed he wasn't. Lucy had never met his son, who was rumored to be as handsome as he was cold. The thought reminded her of Gray and she snorted softly at the thought of the icy boy sitting on the throne. She sipped more at her coffee, turning her eyes more to her right, where the village was beginning to wake up. If the King declared war on Everydays, the little village beside her school would be decimated. And he would command the students to do it…

She shook the suddenly violent thoughts away. The possibility of war with three other kingdoms was extremely slim, and if the king grew too fragile and weak, his son would take over. There was no point in fretting over it, so she released the thoughts, swallowing the rest of her coffee.

She walked into her room, leaving the door open for the sake of the fresh air. She opened her journal to its most recent page, fingers brushing over the words she wrote to her mother without fail every night. Her entry last night had been full of details about her school, her new friends, Natsu. She wished she had her mother there, to actually talk to about the pink-haired boy. Why he made her feel the way she did. Lucy didn't know if her mother could see her or not. Didn't know if she could read the words her daughter poured onto the pages every night. But she hoped so. She flipped to a new page and dated it, opening her pen and chewing on her lip for a moment before she began to write.

Dear Mama,

The kingdom is restless…

There was a gentle knock at her door a little while later and she called for the person to enter, rising from her chair and closing the door to her balcony. There were enchantments barring the boys from entering the girls' hall without an invitation and vice versa, so she wasn't worried about Natsu or anyone else seeing her like this, hair down and tangled from sleep, face fresh, teeth not yet brushed. Plue didn't stir from his place on her bed, so she knew she wasn't in any kind of danger. She checked the time as the door opened, surprised to see it was already ten thirty. So much time had slipped away as she daydreamed at the balcony and wrote to her mother.

Levy peered around the door, smiling as she caught sight of Lucy.

"Hey, Juvia and I were going to go get our textbooks from the library before everyone starts waking up and making a ruckus. Wanna join?"

Lucy grinned. "Let me get changed."

It turned out, their books were not only huge, there were seven of them. The bag containing her uniform dangled from her wrist and she was glad she had managed to get both in the same trip; she wasn't keen on traipsing up those stairs again any time soon.

Lucy panted at the entry to their dorm, her arms shaking under the weight.

"I'm not built for this," she huffed. Levy, who looked comical struggling under the weight of the stack that was practically nearly as tall as her, agreed wholeheartedly.

"Be nice," Levy grunted, shifting the books in her arms, "if we knew a spell to make these lighter."

Juvia groaned, muttering the password in a strained voice. They hurried through the opening and Lucy threw her books on the couch with a heavy sigh of relief, collapsing beside them. Levy fell into the armchair while Juvia tripped down the hall, making a beeline for her room instead of taking a break. Lucy admired her perseverance; she felt like she couldn't life so much as a paper cup for a day at least. The trip had taken an hour, mostly because her and Levy had been in awe of the giant, magnificent library and had taken a good thirty minutes to explore it. Even then, they'd only seen maybe a quarter of it it. It was absolutely wondrous, with bookshelves reaching the ceiling, stacked with books. Books sat in piles all around, some sorting themselves while others' pages flipped on their own, like someone was reading them. The magic in the air made Lucy's fingers tingle and she had nearly laughed aloud at the joy of it all. Levy was awestruck and breathless and Juvia watched them in amusement, not quite understanding their thrill.

"They're just books," Juvia had said.

"They're beautiful," Lucy had murmured, Levy nodding her head enthusiastically beside her.

Now, she glared at her textbooks, not ready to touch them again just yet.

"Oi, what's up with all the books?" Natsu asked, coming in through the magical doorway. He was shirtless and his skin was beaded with water so Lucy guessed he had come straight from the showers.

"Textbooks," Levy sighed, rolling her head back. "I'm going to have to carry them to my room one by one, they're just too heavy."

Lucy grunted her agreement, pointedly avoiding looking at Natsu. She didn't like the way her stomach coiled at the sight of him, or the way his smile made her want to follow him wherever he went. The boy was just that, a boy, harmless as anything. But looking at him made her think of bright days she'd never have.

"They don't look too heavy," Natsu replied. He crossed the room, bending lifting all of Lucy's textbooks one at a time, looking at her when he had all of them stacked in his arms, bewildered. Her and Levy gaped at him. He stood in front of her, looking at the books curiously.

"This is nothing?"

This close, Lucy could smell his body wash. The heat that radiated off of his body warmed her as well. She exhaled shakily, trying not to inhale his scent once more. He turned to look at her, eyes startlingly close. She could see that they were actually a dark green, flecked with gold in some places. They looked normal but there was something animalistic about them. She knew his magic enhanced all of his senses, so he could probably hear her rapid heartbeats and smell her anxiety. He smiled at her, however, one of those blinding, full mouthed, bared teeth ones. Lucy's body calmed down of its own accord and she stared at him in confusion. How could even the simplest of his expressions drive her emotions into hyper drive so easily?

"I'll carry these to your room if you want, Luigi," he offered.

She mumbled her thanks, once again not responding to the nickname aside from a halfhearted glare before standing and leading him to her room. She grabbed the bag containing her uniform, making a mental note to hang it up in her closet so it wouldn't wrinkle. The magic allowed him to enter, since she had technically invited him in, and he followed her, showing no strain under the weight of the books. Lucy opened the door to her room, gesturing to her neatly made bed.

"You can put them there," she said.

Plue was gone, eating again with the other familiars in the building. She could feel his contentment through their bond; she was guessing the school had good food for him.

Natsu gaped at her room and she looked at him in confusion. Her room should be exactly like his in size, color, and furniture. She didn't understand why he was looking at it like it was a palace.

"It's so clean," he whispered reverently and she paled. How messy could his room be on the second day of their being there? She didn't even want to imagine it if he thought her moderately clean room was so wonderful. Vaguely, she wondered if he was capable of doing his own laundry.

She shifted uncomfortably the longer he stood there, mouth open, the silence stretching awkwardly. He suddenly shook his head, like a dog shaking water, and dumped the books on her bed before promptly falling into it himself. He snuggled into her comforter, humming happily, reminding her of a cat purring.

"So comfortable," he sighed into her pillow. Her pillow.

She gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "What're you doing?" she finally managed to stutter out, watching as he stretched like a cat on her bed, legs flung over her precious textbooks.

"I could use a nap," he yawned, arms tucked beneath his head.

She spluttered, completely taken aback by his utter lack of manners. Who just lay down in a virtual stranger's bed and decided to take a nap? She stared at the boy stretched languidly out on her bed, still shirtless she noted, eyes closed and a blissful smile on his young face. Resigning herself to defeat, she gently moved his legs and began moving the books to her desk, where she placed them on the bookshelf just above it. She ordered them alphabetically, tracing the gold lettering on their old covers. Some of the texts were very old, ancient histories of wars and spells made, kingdoms that rose and fell during the centuries. She paid no attention to Natsu, not noticing his eyes on her, watching as she worked. When she had placed them all, she stared at them, hand still resting on one of their spines. She was ready to learn, hungry for the knowledge her tutors hadn't taught her, too busy teaching her how to curtesy properly and play three different instruments and who had married who precisely 55 years ago.

"Did you get the uniform yet?" Natsu asked, breaking into her thoughts. Withdrawing her hand, she nodded without looking at him, pointing to the bag on her desk chair.

"They give it to you when you pick up your books," she murmured. She took the clothes out of her bag, grabbing a few hangers to hang up the white button ups and red-blue plaid skirts. The socks she had gotten were thrown into her drawers and she lay out the necktie and hair ties on night stand. She imagined the boys would have their pick of red pants or blue pants. She wondered, idly, what color Natsu would pick. He seemed like a red person. She heard him suck in a breath as she thought that and she flinched, preparing herself for the question that was no doubt on his mind.

Why do you treat me so differently?

She didn't have an answer for him, honestly. She didn't know how to tell him what she saw in his face or how his voice made her want to run both toward him and away from him. Gajeel and Gray made her laugh, and so did he, but she allowed them to bump into her and joke with her. She fell silent when he spoke, skittered away from him when he drew too close to her. She didn't understand it either, this feeling in her chest at the mere thought of him. How close he was, now, was sending her body slowly into shock it seemed. The smell and feel of him so close was intoxicating somehow and she wanted him out of here, in his own room, in another kingdom preferably. Far away from her, any way.

"Hey, Lucy," he said, softly. She braced herself.

"Have you seen the gardens?"

She blinked at him, in confusion. He gave her one of those stomach-wrenching smiles.

"Follow me."

The gardens were beautiful. Lucy didn't have words as she walked along the paths. They weren't too far from the main building really, close to the edge of the forest and surrounded by a high wall. They entered easily enough and Lucy was taken back by the sheer amount of color. Everything was green and blue and purple and red, everything so alive it almost hurt her head to see and smell. Trees towered over them and some trailed down, the edges of their branches brushing her head and shoulders. Lucy gazed at the bees humming around in wonder, at the flowers that shouldn't be blooming this time of year but were, open and vibrant. She followed Natsu down the winding trails. The gravel path beneath her boots was smooth and there were no sounds but their steps, birds, and bugs buzzing.

After walking for what seemed like an eternity and winding so deep into the underbrush she was almost worried they'd get lost, Natsu stopped, turning to grin at her.

"I found this place yesterday," he told her in a hushed, reverant voice.

He brushed aside some vines and thick flower stalks and gesture for her to go through. She did, smiling at the scene before her.

A stone bench sat in the grass covered clearing, just in front of a small fountain. The bushes lining the small clearing were overgrown and dotted with vibrant yellow flowers. Some towered over the bushes and Lucy realized what they were. Sunflowers. Her mother's favorite flower, though Natsu had no way of knowing that. The statue of an angel with raised arms spouted water with a quiet gurgling sound. Lucy could see the ripples of fish in the water and wondered distantly who took care of them, or the garden in general. She walked to the fountain, fingers tracing the stone carefully. The fountain was clearly old but the statue was in good shape, the elegant curves of it not yet worn by time. It was small, nothing like the huge one in the main courtyard at her father's own mansion. The angel was sculpted with skill, however, and Lucy traced the tears on the angel's cheeks. Angel tears were sacred, she knew. Or so the stories said they had been. Nobody had seen an angel in centuries, if they did actually ever exist in the first place. Personally, Lucy thought it was too good to be true. That breathtakingly beautiful creatures like that existed, born of and filled with such pure magic it could eradicate all evil and darkness in the world.

Wouldn't it be wonderful? She thought wistfully, gazing at the angel statue longingly. Her heart skipped beats at the thought.

She turned to see Natsu smiling at her, drenched in the afternoon sunlight. Her breath stopped for a moment. Time seemed to stop, for just a moment. She wondered if there was a way to preserve this second, forever. His exact smile, the breeze playing with their hair, the way he looked at her with all the softness in the world in those animal eyes of his.

"I like this place," he told her, so quietly the wind nearly took his words away. He walked over to sit on the bench, still grinning at her, probably enjoying her expression as she took in the beautiful little clearing.

"Me too," she answered softly, moving so she was sitting beside him. They were separated by just a few inches and she breathed in his scent mixed with that of the wind and the flowers and the afternoon. She stopped herself from leaning against him and closing her eyes to take a nap, although she could. The clearing was just peaceful enough for it. One of these days she would have to bring a blanket and have a picnic and take a nap. Alone, though. For some reason, she couldn't bear the thought of telling someone else about this place. It felt sacred, like a secret between her and Natsu.

His energy hummed contentedly beside her and she relaxed, gradually.

"I like this school," he said thoughtfully.

She smiled.

"Yes, me too," she agreed once more.

There was a few minutes of silence, the both of them enjoying the quiet of the afternoon in their little spot.

"Hey, Luce," he said tentatively.

She smiled at the nickname, chest aching at the new nickname he had for her. Nobody had ever given her a nickname, let alone two. She liked the sound of it, she thought. Luce. Especially coming from him, where it sounded so affectionate and gentle.

She hummed to let him know she was listening.

"Did I do something wrong? Because you seem kinda skittish around me," he mumbled, scratching at his head awkwardly.

Lucy watched him. All at once, her shoulders slumped and the tension left her body. She took in his nervous face, the way his fingers twitched and he avoided her eyes. He was desperately trying to be her friend, she realized. Here he was, offering her this oasis in case he had something wrong. She wondered if he felt the same confusion as her when he looked at her. The same coiling of his gut and clench of his heart. What had she been so scared of again? she wondered distantly. The afternoon light warmed her and she closed her eyes, lifting her face to it, inhaling the scent of all the flowers. The breeze danced across her forehead.

"No," she said finally, opening her eyes once more, decision made.

"You didn't do anything wrong at all."

His smile was blinding and for the first time, she didn't shy away from it. She returned it.

#yanna speaks #text #my writing #B&M - chapter 2 #B&M #fairy tail #fanfic #nalu #gajevy #gruvia #constellunaa

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