#long live dr martens boots
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my beloved worn all the time 12 year old soft black dr martens boots are starting to fall apart again (they broke last winter but i had them glued together) and i’m absolutely devastated and i could probably buy an identical new pair and let them die in peace but instead i’m having my 10 year old not favourite but still loved purple pair delivered (thank you parents) and planning to have the black ones fixed again 🖤
#long live dr martens boots#the black ones are just perfect because they can act nice and classy and i don’t need actual nice boots#(i probably do need but honestly i wouldn’t even know what to look for)#i refuse to let these boots die before they’re at least 15#i will maybe stop going into the sea in them and not walk around a lot in very cold weather and snow mixed with salt#they’ve been through a lot#and to so many places and events#i love them#dr martens#old shoes#boots#mine
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The Golden Ratio - Part One
Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader
Warnings: Derogatory language, angst, mentions of parental death, mentions of infidelity.
Word count: ~4.5k
Chapter summary: Her relationship strains under the pressure of long distance, though she has her classmate, Michael, to help distract from the worst of it. Series masterlist.
Author's note: For @assortedseaglass. No tag list. Please follow @ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.
She is sweaty and exasperated as she drags her suitcase over the cobbles of Holywell Street. One of the already precariously wonky wheels had finally given up the ghost and broken off as she’d dragged it up the stairs of Oxford train station, making the fifteen minute walk to her accommodation more tiring than it needed to be.
But she was here, finally. Oxford University.
Her dad had sold the car to make sure she had money to live on until her student loan and maintenance grant had been paid to her. He didn’t want her taking a part time job to make ends meet, she’d worked hard to earn her place here, her focus should be on her studies. Coming from a low income family meant she had qualified for the maximum amount for both maintenance loan and grant, but her first set of application forms had been misplaced by Student Finance, so she’d had to send in a second set, meaning there would be a delay with her first payment.
An unfortunate consequence of her dad not having a car is that she’d had to get the train to London Victoria, a tube to Paddington, then another train to Oxford. But it is not the fact that she is seemingly the only student whose parents aren’t obstructing the pavements with their cars in order to drop them off that makes her feel like an outcast, there is something deeper, more sinister feeling.
She sees it as she struggles to get her bag across the lawn of the Halls, people grouped in little clusters, as though they’ve been friends forever. They dress in Juicy Couture velour tracksuit bottoms and brand name Ugg Boots, while she wears her mum’s old Dr. Martens and a tartan skirt she’d bought in a charity shop for one pound fifty. She doesn’t fit in. She feels she may as well wear the word “poor” across her forehead like a scarlet letter.
Having checked in at the Porters’ Lodge and been given directions to the accommodation, it’s lonely as she unpacks her things, her room feeling empty and quiet. The only sounds are muffled talking and laughter coming through the closed window from outside. She feels lonelier still when she pulls out the framed photo of her and Rich. They’re both smiling, his arms wrapped around her waist as she leans her head against his. It had felt like their relationship would last forever when that picture was taken. That seemed like much less of a possibility over the last couple of weeks.
She had met Rich at the beginning of sixth form. Having attended Chatham Grammar School for Girls, she had decided to stay on there to do her A levels. The mathematics department was decent, and she had heard Russell Group universities were more likely to consider applications that came from grammar schools. Rich had transferred over from Robert Napier School. Where she was shy, quiet and reserved, he was lively, outgoing and sociable. His zest for life had shone a bright light on an existence that was, for her, otherwise dull and grey.
They were an unlikely pairing. She was logical, analytical and studied maths and physics. Rich was creative, free spirited and guided by emotion. He studied art and music. They had been together for two years and she had thought he was the one. But then it came time for UCAS applications, and where she had applied to Oxford, Cambridge and York, Rich had applied to Leeds, Brighton and Glasgow. It seemed that no matter where they were accepted, they were destined to be apart.
When she had received an unconditional offer from Oxford she had been elated, however, the crushing devastation upon hearing Rich had been accepted into The Glasgow School of Art with a conditional offer had quickly dulled her excitement.
She had never felt like an outsider or a loner when she was with Rich. Basking in his sunny disposition had felt effortless, she never felt alone. He was going to take all of that away, and she was unsure of how to cope with it.
“We’ll make it work long distance, don’t worry,” he’d told her, and she’d believed him.
But then he had actually gone to Glasgow. Fresher’s week in Glasgow started a week earlier than it did in Oxford, so Rich had moved away first. It didn’t take long for the texts and phone calls to dry up into nothing. She had heard from him once in the last few days.
She sighs as she slides up the screen of her beaten up Nokia. Still nothing. She had text to let him know she was leaving for Oxford today and he couldn’t even be bothered to reply. She knows it’s his first week at university and he’s likely busy and having fun, but how was long distance going to work if they never actually spoke to each other?
Despite the loftiness of the dining hall, it feels stuffy as she moves through it later that evening, taking a seat at a long table crowded with other students. She had hoped that the Fresher’s welcome dinner would be an opportunity to make friends, but everyone seems to be deep in conversation already. The chatter hums loudly like white noise, until it comes to a sudden stop.
“FUCKIN’ ASK ME A SUM THEN!”
She turns, mouth agape, to look at the pair of boys sitting a few places up from her. One is darked haired and seems nervous and uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly in his seat. The other is blonde, an angry, intense expression on his face, shadows cast across it from the lamplight on the table, as he stares in wide eyed anticipation. It was him who had shouted, clearly.
“Four hundred and twenty three times seventy eight,” the dark haired boy asks quietly.
Instantly his friend replies, without missing a beat, “thirty two thousand, nine hundred and ninety four.”
Involuntarily her eyes widen in surprise. She sits there and does the calculation in her head, though much more slowly than he had.
Carry the two, eight times two is sixteen, plus two is eighteen, carry the one…he’s right. How is it possible that he came to that answer so quickly?
When her gaze lifts he is looking at her, observing her doing the working out in her head. He holds her stare, a smirk curving the corners of his mouth. He knows she knows he is right, and it’s clear he feels smug about it.
Quickly looking away, she reaches for her water glass, wanting something, anything, to distract her. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her feel uneasy.
God, I hope I don’t have any classes with him.
She holds her timetable for the week in her hands as she moves her way through the corridors towards the lecture hall the following morning. The first week looks to be fairly light touch, with an introductory lecture for each of the courses; algebra, analysis, probability and statistics, geometry, dynamics and multivariable calculus. Today is the introduction to analysis, and she is excited to study under the tutelage of Professor Helen Byrne. Her research focuses on the development and analysis of mathematical and computational models that describe biomedical systems, with particular application to the growth and treatment of solid tumours, wound healing and tissue engineering. Professor Byrne is someone she has admired within the field for as long as she can remember, and she is very much looking forward to her tutorials with her.
Her excitement fades when she enters the lecture hall and immediately sees the angry guy from the previous evening.
Just my luck.
The only available seat is next to him, so she sits down, dropping her bag to the floor by her feet.
A hand extends out towards her in her peripheral vision, taking her by surprise and she turns in her seat towards it, shrinking back slightly.
He seems utterly unperturbed by her reaction, keeping his arm extended. “I’m Michael Gavey.”
She blinks, regaining her composure as she leans forward, shaking his hand and introducing herself in return. His palm is clammy against her own, and she can still feel it there even after having let go and wiped her hand on her jeans.
“I saw you last night,” he says matter of factly, pulling his arm back and resting his elbow on the desk in front of him.
“Oh, yeah,” she says with a tight smile, nodding, “so you and your mate…is that like a party trick or something?”
“No, no party trick,” he says with a demure smile. “I’m a genius.”
She forces herself to laugh politely, assuming he’s making a joke, but she stops, her brow furrowing slightly when she sees he doesn’t share in the humour. He’s being serious.
Opening her mouth to ask a follow up question, she’s interrupted as Professor Byrne sweeps into the room. Her and Michael both face forward in their seats as she introduces herself to the class.
Over the next hour they are given an introduction to the course and what to expect in their first year, including an overview of the papers they will need to write and examinations that will be sat. She pays rapt attention, scribbling furious notes, until the lecture begins to wrap up.
“As it’s the first week, I will go easy on assignment setting,” Professor Byrne tells them all, “but there will be an assignment nonetheless.”
A loud, collective groan echoes around the lecture hall. Her and Michael are the only two not to join in.
“Now, now, settle down,” she chastises, “it’ll be fun. I’m sure you’re all aware of the Fibonacci Sequence, a series of numbers where each number is the sum of the two preceding numbers. Mathematically we can describe this as–”
She turns and scrawls xn= xn-1 + xn-2 on the chalkboard, before facing the students again.
“--I’d like you all to find an example of the Fibonacci Sequence in real life and present it back to the class during next week’s lecture. You’re to work in pairs, so buddy up, and see you all next week.”
Professor Byrne places the chalk back on the desk before striding back out of the lecture hall. The room is instantly a buzz with chatter, as people move between seats to find a partner.
She stays rooted in place, suddenly wishing Rich was here. It’s in moments like these that he flourishes, allowing her to take a backseat as he effortlessly navigates them through social interactions. Instead, she is alone and the space around her feels bigger and scarier with every moment that passes.
It’s only when she turns her head that she notices Michael has yet to move too. Gathering all the courage she can muster, she clears her throat and speaks to him.
“So…er…did you wanna partner up for this thing then?”
“I don’t like to work with others,” he says matter of factly, keeping his gaze fixed ahead.
“I’m not exactly thrilled about it either,” she says with a sigh, “but for this assignment we have to.”
“You’ve picked me because I’m a genius. You’ll expect me to do all the work while you get pissed with your mates.”
He fixes her with an accusatory stare, and she feels the heat of anger prickle her skin.
“Haven’t got any mates,” she mutters darkly.
He observes her for a few moments, elbow propped on the desk, jaw resting against his fist, and she fidgets self consciously in her seat. No wonder the other boy from last night had looked so uncomfortable. It feels like he’s studying her.
“Let’s go to the library,” he says simply, standing and picking up his bag.
“So, you’re a genius?” She asks, opening her notebook once they’re seated opposite each other at a table in the library, nervously tapping her pencil against the page.
“Hmm,” Michael nods, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, “I don’t even like maths, really. I can just…do it. Anything. In my head.”
She’s struck by how blunt he is, sucking in a breath as she considers what to say next. There is something so disarming about him, she gets the sense he’s analysing her every word and action.
“Right,” she begins, “so, er, for this assignment I was thinking about how Leonardo Fibonacci used rabbits to prove his theory. One hundred and forty four pairs of rabbits can be produced from a single pair of rabbits in a year, based on the sequence.”
“That’s fucking stupid,” Michael replies with a sigh.
“What?” She asks irritably, annoyed by his dismissal.
“What are you expecting us to do, go to a pet shop and buy rabbits? We’ve only got a week to do the assignment, we need to be more practical.”
She rolls her eyes. “I was using that as an example, not saying we do that exactly! Come on then, genius, what’s your suggestion?”
“Spirals,” he says with a slight shrug. He leans across, placing the tips of his fingers on her notebook and sliding it towards himself, before picking up her pencil. “There is a special relationship between the Fibonacci numbers and the Golden Ratio, a ration that describes when a line is divided into two parts and the longer part - A - divided by the smaller part - B - is equal to the sum of A + B divided by A, which both equal one point six one eight. This is represented by the Greek letter,” he stops to scribble a φ on the pad. “The ratio of any two successive Fibonacci Numbers approximates the Golden Ratio value.” He stops again, scrawling 1.6180339887 on the page. The bigger the pair of Fibonacci numbers, the closer the approximation. From there, we can calculate what's called the golden spiral, or a logarithmic spiral whose growth factor equals the golden ratio.”
She is stunned into a silence for a moment, a combination of his audacity to simply take her belongings, and awe at the rapidity with which his mind works. Collecting herself, she blinks a few times, looking up into his eyes.
They’re so blue.
“So…er…how do you propose we present this data back to the class?”
“A simple table is sufficient, look–”
His hand moves rapidly over the page, a complete table there on the paper when he drops the pencil into the gutter of the notebook and sits back in his chair.
“We present that,” he tells her, his eyes fixed on the page. “Using the values of the sequence as the edge length of squares arranged in the table, a spiral is generated.”
She leans over, sliding the notebook back to her side of the table, marvelling silently at his work. He is fascinating to watch. He’s right, he can just do maths.
“It’s good,” she says, eye flitting up to meet his, “solid. But it’s fucking boring.”
This time it’s his turn to be annoyed. “What?” He asks, eyes narrowing.
“Everyone is going to present something like this, because it’s easy,” she explains, “Don’t you want to stand out to Professor Byrne? We should do something outside of the box.”
“Hmm. Go on then, what are you thinking?” He rests his cheek against his fist, leaning against the table as he stares at her.
She feels herself grow warm under his scrutiny.
Does he always have to be so bloody intense?
“There are loads of examples of Fibonacci numbers appearing in nature. We could look for some? Flowers, perhaps.”
“I’ve got hayfever,” Michael states simply.
She sighs.
Of course you do.
“Then we’ll get you some Piriton! Come on, there are studies that show seed heads, pinecones, fruits and vegetables all displaying spiral patterns that when counted express Fibonacci numbers. This fits perfectly with the brief of the assignment and will leave a lasting impression.”
He moves his hand away from his face, resting his arm flat on the table and quietly drumming his fingers against it for a few moments. “Alright then,” he finally concedes.
“Great,” she grins excitedly, tearing out a page from her notebook and writing on it hurriedly. “Here’s my number, so we can meet up to work on it, and also my Hotmail address, in case MSN works better for you.”
He huffs through his nose as he takes the paper from her, a soft laugh escaping him. “The countess at hotmail dot co dot uk,” he reads with amusement, “very droll.”
“Shut up,” she grins back, “I made that in secondary school. Thought it was funny.”
Back in her room that evening, she’s excited to see she has a text from Rich, finally.
Hope ur enjoying it. Having so much fun here!
She sighs, throwing her phone down on the bed side table. No kisses, not even an “I love you”.
Watching out of the window, she sees the giggling groups of students making their way out into town, readying themselves to spend the night drinking, making friends and having fun. Just like Rich is doing, not giving her a second thought, while she stays cooped up in her room without a friend in the world.
Suspicion nags at her, so she turns on her laptop, loading up MySpace. Rich takes number one place on her top eight friends, and she clicks on his profile. It looks much the same as it always does, but she decides to snoop further, clicking into his friends list. She can see he has recently friended a girl named Sophie.
Sophie is pretty, bright pink streaks in her hair, and a nose ring. Exactly Rich’s type. Her most recently uploaded photos are of groups of people, clearly all taken during Fresher’s week. A pit forms in her stomach as she sees that in almost all of them Sophie and Rich have their arms around each other. Worse still, Rich occupies space eight in Sophie’s top friends.
She closes the browser, blinking back tears. Surely, she is just being paranoid. They’re just friends. Friends have photos together, and it was normal that he would make new ones when he went away to uni.
Opening MSN Messenger, she hovers over Rich’s username. Unsurprisingly, he’s offline, he always is these days. She smiles when an add request from [email protected] pops up. Of course he’d have Tau, the mathematical constant, in his Hotmail address. She clicks accept and he immediately appears in her online contacts. Looks like he isn’t out tonight either.
Double clicking his username, she chuckles to herself upon seeing his display picture is of Pythagoras. Such a dweeb.
“Want to work on our assignment tomorrow?” She types to him.
Barely a few seconds pass before she sees him typing back. “Yes. When?”
“We could meet at the Water Meadow at lunch time?”
“See you then.”
Straight to the point, no idle chit chat. She shakes her head and closes the messenger window, though finds herself strangely excited by the thought of seeing him tomorrow. She reasons that it’s because Michael is the closest thing she has had to a friend since arriving at Oxford.
She visits the nearby Tesco Express the following day, buying a meal deal for each of them and a packet of hayfever tablets for Michael. She has no idea of what Michael even likes, so plays it safe by buying a bottle of Oasis, a Crunchie bar and a ham and cheese sandwich for them both.
At precisely noon, Michael stands at the entrance to the Water Meadow waiting for her. She smiles as she looks at his t-shirt; maroon with a diagram of a circle on a gradient with a downwards acceleration of 9.81 meters per second, with the slogan “that’s how I roll”. A mechanics pun.
“Like your shirt,” she says as she approaches him.
He grins. “Thought you might, considering your email address.”
She averts her gaze. There is something about the fact that he’d thought of her when he’d chosen what to wear today that makes her tummy flutter.
Stop it. You’ve got Rich. Michael’s weird!
“I got you some hayfever tablets,” she tells him as they start to walk along the pathway that’s flanked by green space on either side. “Do you wanna have lunch first and then start looking for flowers?”
They settle, cross legged on the grass, Michael already having taken one of the tablets, chased with half a bottle of Oasis, and she spreads out the food between them.
She watches in fascination as his eyes widen at the sight of the Crunchie bars, snatching one up and tearing off the wrapper. Her mouth falls open slightly as she sees him hold it sideways, biting into it from the side, before devouring each of the pieces it inevitably breaks into.
“You like Crunchie bars then?” She asks, a little grossed out, but curious nonetheless.
He swallows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Mother didn’t allow me to have sweets growing up, bad for your teeth, she said.”
She nods, a feeling over pity replacing the disgust that had roiled her stomach just seconds ago.
“So, is it your mum that pushed you into studying maths?” She asks, fiddling with the lid of her drink bottle.
“Sort of,” he says. “Mother never married, but she wanted a child. She used a sperm donor - a physicist, apparently - and was artificially inseminated to have me. She was thrilled when I showed a natural aptitude for maths, and has always encouraged me. It’s why I do it, why I accepted the scholarship, to make her proud. She’s been through so much to have me, it’s the least I owe her.”
Her face falls, a feeling of sadness overwhelming her, making her heart ache for Michael. There is something so tragic about the fact that he has lived his entire life adhering to the expectations of the person who had created him for their own selfish want of a child.
“What about you then?” He asks. “The bank of mummy and daddy paying for you to be here?”
She shakes her head. “I earned my place, just like you did, with straight As, though I don’t have a scholarship. Have had to take out loans to cover the cost. It’s just me and dad since mum passed away.”
“Oh,” Michael says, blinking rapidly, obviously surprised. “Apologies, I’d assumed a pretty girl like you would be the same as the rest of the vapid cunts studying here, if you can call it studying.”
She hums in acknowledgement, considering his words, turning her own Crunchie bar around in her fingers, focusing on the way the foil wrapper slides against her skin. His compliment makes her heart beat more rapidly, even if it is backhanded. “Like I said yesterday, I’ve got no mates. It was always Rich that was better at that sort of thing.”
“Rich?” Michael asks curiously, cocking his head.
“My boyfriend. He’s at uni in Glasgow.”
“Three hundred and sixty two point nine miles,” Michael states simply.
“Pardon?”
“That’s the distance between Oxford and Glasgow,” he explains, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “How are you planning to make a relationship work with that sort of distance?”
“We’re doing long distance,” she argues, feeling herself growing defensive, scowling at him.
“Yeah, I bet that’s gonna work out great,” he scoffs, eyes widening, clearly mocking her.
“The Glasgow School of Art was the best choice for Rich to study what he wants to,” she retorts.
A grin spreads across his face. “Art?! I suppose you should be grateful he’s hundreds of miles away then, he sounds like a moron.”
She huffs, hurriedly shoving her things back into her bag. “Let’s just look for these fucking flowers and get this over with.”
The pair work for the rest of the afternoon in silence, the atmosphere is tense and angry, but they are productive nevertheless, settling on a patch of sunflowers to use for the assignment.
They look at the spirals of seeds in the center of the sunflowers and observe patterns curving left and right. Counting these spirals, their total is a Fibonacci number. They then divide the spirals into those pointed left and right to get two consecutive Fibonacci numbers.
Cutting down a couple of sunflower heads to use as examples, Michael also makes a diagram in his notes for them to present with their findings.
She feels satisfied by the time they part ways, but an uneasy feeling has settled over her that has dread gnawing into her gut as she thinks about Michael’s criticism of her and Rich’s long distance relationship.
Unsurprised to see she has no missed calls or texts from him when she goes back to her room, she opens up her laptop and logs back onto MySpace. This time when she looks at Rich’s profile her blood runs cold as she sees that Sophie now occupies space number three in his top friends. He’d had time to log on and change the position of a girl he’d met a couple of weeks ago, but couldn’t be bothered to send her a single message?
Before she can stop herself, she’s pulling out her phone and calling his number. She doesn’t care if this wastes all of her credit, she needs answers.
It rings for ages, and she anticipates being sent to voicemail, until he eventually answers, sounding breathless and distracted.
“H-hello?”
“Rich, it’s me,” she says quietly.
There’s a pause before he answers. “Oh…how’s my little nerd? Everything okay?”
She ignores the familiarity, keeping her tone neutral. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me.”
Not giving him an opportunity to respond, she pushes on. “Has something happened between you and this Sophie girl I’ve seen you on Myspace with?”
Another pause, except this time she hears him inhale a deep breath. “I was going to tell you when we came home for Christmas break. It felt wrong to break up with you over the phone.”
It feels as though the bottom of her world has been ripped away, her heart twisting painfully as her vision blurs with tears. She swallows thickly, anger bubbling alongside her devastation, so that her tone is venomous when she replies “So, you were just gonna keep stringing me along for two months, so you could look like a good guy?!”
“Babe, no, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I just–”
“You’re a piece of shit,” she cuts him off, “fuck you!”
She hangs up, chucking her phone down onto the bed, and immediately bursts into tears, holding her head in her hands as hot tears stream down her face, her shoulders shaking as her nose grows snotty.
Two years. Two fucking years and he’d chucked it all away for someone he’d known for two weeks.
She walks towards the sink in her room, looking into the mirror and sighing at her reflection. Her eyes are red and puffy, she looks a mess. Splashing cold water onto her face to rid herself of the worst of it, she then flops down onto her bed, opening her laptop.
Immediately she is met with her MSN chat window with Michael from the previous evening. He’s online.
Without thinking, she types out a message to him.
“Do you have any alcohol?”
Within seconds he’s typing a response.
“Would you like me to have alcohol?”
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Geordie Walker
When you've had a tooth pulled out, stinking from a giant abscess that's ruined the last few months of your life, with a chunk of your jawbone drilled out and filled in with human cadaver so a new one can be put in come a few months time, then the gums stapled together in the hope the whole bloody mess will stay in place, as the local anaesthetics and the pre-op codeine wear off, you think that nothing can take your mind off how much pain you're in, and nothing in your day could possibly get any worse.
Until you discover from hits to your Dumblr that Geordie Walker, guitarist of Killing Joke has died.
Whereupon, all of a sudden, you no longer care if the dentist had kicked the tooth out of your head with steel toe capped Dr Marten boots - because it would never be a bigger kick in the teeth than this.
The word was the result of a massive stroke. The cleanest living of the band's golden trio of Jaz Coleman and Youth (who'd drank and drugged themselves into different dimensions, let alone excess, whereas Geordie's foible was for a glass of fine red wine) and yet the first to die.
How bitterly ironic. How very Killing Joke.
If Hollywood's golden era had produced guitarists instead of movie stars, it would have produced Geordie Walker, a guitarist as ludicrously handsome as he was ludicrously talented.
No band has ever sounded quite like Killing Joke, that distinctive harsh yet atmospheric, ethereal sound that suggested sweeping dramatic landscapes and nature at the raw, a band who made albums that sounded unintentionally like the soundtrack to an epic movie not yet written let alone filmed.
A sound they had, lost and then rediscovered with a vengeance in an era most of their contemporaries were doing nothing but tread water with turgid rehashs of their golden moments and in some cases copies; indeed, to the extent in the last decade Killing Joke alone of their peers were enjoying something of a golden age, each album not merely outselling the last, but selling as many as during their 80s and 90s heydays.
Geordie was the central part of that sound along with Jaz - indeed without each other Killing Joke never, ever sounded, or could have sounded the same. With his trademark old fashioned old hollow-bodied Gibson guitar and understated stage presence - no limelight hogging theatrics for one who let his music do the talking - he brought calm and class to the rich chaos and mayhem Jaz so gleefully dipped into, and together produced a blend so perfect, distinctly their own, it proved impossible for anyone to imitate - which was partly their handicap as their strength. Like Cardiacs, pretty tough to gain popular acclaim when no one can join in but only spectate.
It took a long time for the band to be given their due, and it is bittersweet that Geordie should leave centre stage forever just as the band had reached the height of its powers and still climbing.
But by plumbob, if ever there was a guitarist whose legacy was assured to last fickle fads and the test of time ...
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model shoot
"Are you the model the agency called about?" the manager asked, to a confused Maddie.
"What? I got no calls from any modeling agency." Maddie says, raising an eyebrow.
"Whatever. The shoot's starting." With that, the scout pulled Maddie into the building before she even had a chance to figure what was happening, as it all went so fast.
...
Maddie, is not a girl, but, a guy. Before Maddie, there was Mason, a 39-year-old auto mechanic who enjoyed what he's doing, but hated to go home to his wife. When he'd get home, he's always getting nagged to death.
And today, it would be no ordinary day for Mason, as something would change for him...
Mason woke up the next morning, and as usual, he stretched, and yawned. Except today is different, as he noticed his arms were far more skinnier than usual, as he stretched. He felt lighter, despite having a slightly heavier chest. He looked down, and saw he had breasts. Not as pronounced, but they were there, barely poking out of his tank top. He screamed, before flinging his covers aside and ran to the restroom. He was shocked, to see his face with that of a girl's. He still had his manly face, but he now has the body of a girl. Even his hair's longer now to go with his unique body.
Even though he's been pretty much skinny his whole life, despite eating a lot.
Crap! Crap! Crap! Crap! he says over and over in his head, while holding onto his head, as he began walking in circles in his apartment living room. Suddenly, he stopped. He remembered, or at least anyway; his girlfriend. There was no trace of her anywhere. Just his apartment, still in its messy state, but his girlfriend's belongings were nowhere to be found. It was as if she disappeared without a trace. But now, he didn't care, until he got a phone call. Mason rushed to the table, to see a black iPhone. Before, he never owned such a thing, as it rang and vibrated on his glass table. Mason picked it up, and tried to answer it, even as he said 'Hello' in his high yet deep voice.
"How the hell do I do this?" he muttered, until finally, he answered.
"Maddie. About damn time you answered. Listen. You're booked, so you have to be here before 12. So when are you coming in?" A male voice asked, through the iPhone. Mason looked at the clock, or where it was supposed to be, over the TV. But there was none, and his TV seemed a bit bigger now...
Maddie?!
"Uhm. Crap. What time is it now?" Mason asked, trying to look for the time.
"It's almost 11. You have to be ready, no matter what." With that, the phone went dead. Mason looked at his phone, until the screen went dark, his face is once more visible.
Or, rather, a girl's face stares back at him.
He got ready, throwing on a tank top again, before rolling his eyes.
Crap! Crap! I need a bra... He tried looking for one, but since his breasts weren't pronounced, he decided to forgo the bra, before putting on the rest of his clothes, which is his skinny jeans, Dr. Martens boots, and left his apartment.
"There you are, Maddie! What took you so long?" The manager asked, looking at the tall Maddie. She's the perfect model for their company, since she's 6'2" tall, taller than almost everyone. Except for that janitor, who's now rubbing himself in secret now that Maddie's in the building. Compared to the many models he's seen coming through, Maddie's sure different than the rest, even though clearly she's a guy in disguise.
Or, is she?
The model shoots go as planned, everything's all done and organized as Maddie gets her pictures taken, in various poses.
Maddie began seeing an assistant having an erection over the picture above, after she simply slipped the strap of her shirt down off her shoulder for the shoot.
Who wouldn't blame Maddie anyway? After all, she had a long neck, just like Mason himself before the transformation, and he resembled a girl even before.
Even though she's not athletic, Maddie is still skinny, even as Mason was skinny himself, before he transformed into Maddie.
Even Maddie herself is even skinnier than Mason, and smaller, even through she’s the same height as Mason before.
And he's loving every minute of it, the attention he's getting is nothing unlike he's gotten in the past.
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hiii hii! i am absolutely obsessed with every single thing you write, it is the only thing getting me through succession ending.
would it be ok to request a ship &/or ship aesthetic?
i am a cis girl & would prefer one of the men for a ship please.
i have long ginger/strawberry blonde straight hair (slightly lighter than shivys).
i am extremely pale but like to fake tan (i get burnt within like five minutes of being in the sun), though i don't like it to dark, i just like to look a little bit sun kissed.
i have green round eyes with thickish eyebrows & a roundish face with some light freckles.
i’m 5’9, always have acrylic nails in an almond shape (currently they are black).
i wear gold jewellery & have three lobe ear piercings each side with a rook & conch piercing on my left & helix on my right side.
i am very introverted (i could go days without interacting with anyone but my cat) but when around people i can be very very chatty.
i love to read (though i have been slacking majorly recently) & my favourite book is ‘my year of rest & relaxation’ (super basic i apologise).
i love going for walks & i do yoga & pilates.
i used to dance & am an ex-theatre kid.
i like visiting art galleries & museums & things like that.
i really playing soduku (not sure why).
my favourite films are coraline & heathers.
my favourite colour is pink!
lana del rey is my favourite musician (again very basic i apologise) but i also listen to a lot of mazzy star, arctic monkeys, mitski, radiohead & deftones.
i am currently in my last year of school (i am eighteen but pls don’t take that into account when shipping me) & my favourite subject is philosophy.
i hope to go into business in the future & eventually work in fashion which has always been a huge interest of mine (maybe like marketing or pr but i am not 100% sure yet).
i currently live in australia but hope to move to a city such as london or nyc.
i love thrift & vintage shopping.
my personal aesthetic kind of ranges depending on my mood for the day tbh but i do quite basic makeup & focus on my outfit but i do love mini dresses & skirts with a big jacket at the moment, & usually wear it with dr martens or knee high black boots.
i hope this is ok (i got a tad carried away when writing because im procrastinating my assingnment lol).
thank you so so so much x
i am in love with your account <3
Artsy Love x Lukas Matsson
Lmfao the assignment can wait, ships are forever lol!!! Thank you so much my love, you're too kind!!!! I'm glad I can get you through these terrible times lol!!! I really hope you like it!!!! Xoxoxo💜💜💜
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Harisu
OC based on Nezumi’s sister from No. 6. If you’re not familiar with the story just click here or ask me, I’ll be pleased to answer all your questions.
Age: 12 years old | 20 years old | Verse dependent.
At 12, weight: 43 kg. (94.78 lb) - height: 158 cm (5'2")/ TW: Underweight.
At 20+ weight: 64 kg (141.09 lb) - height: 178 cm (5'8")/ Skinny.
Birthday: 24/12, 5:00 am | Capricorn.
Personality: INTJ-A: Architects.
+ Rational, analytical, introverted, insightful, imaginative, independent, determined, confident, values truth and depth, wise, honest, polite.
- Hypocrite, judging, competitive, combative, dry sense of humor, sarcastic, might come off as rude or cold, dismiss emotions.
Sexuality: asexual/demiromantic.
Voice claim: Mikasa Ackerman. (Seiyuu: Yui Ishikawa)
Appearance:
Shiny grey eyes.
Rounded high arch brows.
Perky nose.
Dark blue hair, it almost reaches her hips. During childhood and teenage years, she always holds it in two buns.
Pale skin.
Tall for average women height.
Has a wide spiked burn mark on her right knee.
Clothing:
Wears a pale yellow oval neck shirt, and black suspenders, light purple cargo pants, and a pair of black dr. martens style boots with yellow laces. In public, always wears a pair of fingerless leather gloves.
During winter and rainy seasons, it’s usual to see her with an oversized leather jacket.
Owns a knitted dark purple sweater with a zig-zag pattern.
Hobbies:
Drawing, coloring, painting, reading, knife fighting training.
Background:
Some people can’t forget their past, some others don’t even get the chance to have a past.
Harisu was born in winter and in spring all her family was taken away by fire. Everyone, but her brother, who saved her for the very first time of the many times that were to come during their lives. It was thanks to him she wasn’t devoured by flames.
Nezumi was found by a woman who took them both away from where genocide was taking place. The granny, as they called her, raised them until Harisu was five years old. She passed away from age, leaving Nezumi and her alone.
Ever since then, they had each other and no one else to rely on. It was fine like that, as long as they were together. But they lived in a town that would break anyone’s moral compass, and danger was all they knew.
Harisu had to kill a man for survival at the age of 12.
The town faced walls and rumors said there was a completely different world there. No danger and no death…
It was a lie, the city stood over the dead bodies of Harisu and Nezumi’s family.
Hate and revenge would have been a comprehensive outlet. Nevertheless, what could two children do against a government with no remorse?
Harisu and Nezumi decided to leave the town, go as far as they could, cut ties with everything since anything was holding them there.
They start new. Many times. It was years of travel in the wilderness, with songs, readings, and drawings. Until they found a city next to the seaside where they finally settle.
Currently, Harisu has opened a foster care for children who have gone through similar hardships as her brother and her.
(Consider this a guideline, some details from her life could change depending on verses, except the fact her only family is Nezumi)
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Hey miss hera. I want to ask number 7, number 18, and number 47. Thank you.
Hello anon! Thank you so much for playing, hehe. Here they go!
7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?
Oh my! I think... Maybe "Rotten Judgement"? In the way I deal with politics and the intra-Paradisian stuff. Although I also liked the way I dealt with international relationships in "Instead they said", where Marley and Paradis were involved in a war, but truly, I think ITS was just an essay of what "Rotten Judgement" would be. I am also quite proud about my actor AU, "A dreadful night" because I think I was able to convey the canon personalities in an alternative universe very well while maintaining the whole "actor scene" charade!
18. If you wrote a sequel to Rotten Judgement / Instead they said / A dreadful night / Only a lifetime, what would it involve?
I am leaving "I did not live until today" aside because I did write an epilogue on that, but truly, it would involve the same in all of them: motherhood (mostly) while being a couple, and a romantic/married relationship. But I think this is because I'm in that point of life, you know? It's very close to what I'm experiencing and what I want to do soon, so I think I like essaying different representations of it. By no means that should be the "ending" we all strive for—I'm just in the mood for something very romantically conventional. In the political sphere, though: Rotten Judgement would follow with injuries of friends, and a civil dictatorship approaching; Instead they said would follow with a war between Marley and Paradis (modern age); A dreadful night with the aftermath of Eren's slip at the convention, and Only a lifetime with Jean and Mikasa trying to have a relationship despite grieving Eren.
47. If your fics were a pair of shoes, what kind would it be? Describe the shoes.
I did not live until today - Ballet shoes / Dancing shoes (for obvious reasons)
Instead, they said - Water boots! Long but wearable.
Only a lifetime - Shoeless: it hurts to the bone.
A dreadful night - Interesting. I feel like... heels? Because it's uncomfortable but they dress well.
Rotten Judgement - Dr Martens. Very fashionable but are a pain to wear.
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Concept Statement
This term, my concept focused on how people's legs and feet move and create footsteps.
My three main disciplines consisted of Printmaking, Ceramics and Photography.
In this project I focused on the movement of walking and the motion we create when we walk. Using shoes as the main object I captured the movement of peoples footsteps throughout my 3 disciplines.
Through using shoes as the main object I was fascinated at the soles of the shoes and how every time we move we leave a patterned print of our motion.
Shoe prints act as evidence of a person being there. I found it really interesting during this project to think about the uniqueness of the footprints and how each one holds a story. Unlike making deliberate marks our footprints are unconscious marks.
In theory Shoe Prints would be long lived but due to outside influences, like water washing away a footprint on the beach, they get eroded which is why I was drawn to focus in on them but throughout my disciplines I captured them and expanded their life.
Each Shoe print is unique to the person who makes it.
Printmaking: In printmaking I recreated the soles of shoes and this idea of a pitter patter motion we create when we walk. I also used my own boots inked them up and walked around in a circle on a big brown piece of paper to give me a better idea of the distance between each footstep when we walk. Getting the idea of the distance between each footstep was really important for the further development of my project.
Ceramics: Using a big slab of clay I captured a moment of the ceramic workshop by getting a bunch of students to walk over the slab which documented each Shoe print at that precise time. It was very intriguing seeing the slab fill up with various shoes and being able to pinpoint each shoes by their soles pattern from Dr Martens to Adidas runners to Vans.
Photography: In photography it was great when it came to capturing walking and that blurred motion of the movement of somebodies legs and feet, which is something you can't see with the naked eye. I experimented with layering photos on top of each other in Photoshop to create an even greater sense of movement within one photo and give the impression that the photo itself is moving.
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Is It Normal for Doc Martens to Crease And How to Crease Out of Doc Martens?
Doc Martens are a very popular brand of shoe, known for their durability and comfort. However, many people have noticed that their Doc Martens tend to crease after wearing them for awhile. This can be quite frustrating, as it can make the shoes look old and worn out before their time.
There are a few things you can do to help prevent this from happening, or at least minimize the amount of creasing that occurs.
If you've ever owned a pair of Doc Martens, you know that they can be a bit finicky when it comes to creasing. While it's perfectly normal for your DMs to develop creases over time, there are ways to help prevent them from getting too severe. Here are a few tips:
- Avoid wearing your DMs in wet weather. This will help keep the leather from getting too wrinkled. - When you're not wearing them, store your DMs in their original box or another shoe box with plenty of tissue paper.
This will help maintain their shape. - If you do notice deep creases developing, try using a shoe tree or filling the toe box with crumpled up newspaper. This will help stretch out the leather and reduce the appearance of wrinkles.
Note: For better guide you can check this out https://bootchief.com/are-doc-martens-supposed-to-crease/
HOW TO GET RID OF CREASES ON DR MARTENS
How Do You Get Creases Out of Docs?
If you're lucky enough to own a pair of Doc Martens, you know that they're built to last. But even the toughest shoes can start to show wear and tear after awhile. One of the most common problems is creasing - those unsightly lines that seem to appear out of nowhere and just won't go away.
Fortunately, there are a few things you can do to get rid of creases in your Docs. First, try using a shoe tree - this will help stretch out the leather and reduce the amount of creasing. You can also try using a hairdryer on low heat to gently loosen up the leather.
If those methods don't work, you can always take them to a professional cobbler for re-soling or other repairs. In general, it's best to avoid getting your Docs wet if possible - water can cause the leather to shrink and intensify creasing. If you do get them wet, stuff them with newspaper and let them dry naturally at room temperature (never put them near a heater or direct sunlight).
With proper care, your Docs should stay looking good for years to come!
Can You Fold Doc Martens?
Assuming you are referring to the Doc Martens 1460 boot, yes, you can fold them. Here are some steps to follow: 1. Unlace the boots and remove the insoles.
2. Fold each boot in half so that the toes touch the heel. Then, fold each boot in half again so that they resemble a long rectangle. 3. Place one boot inside the other so that they are nested together and tuck in the laces.
How Do You Keep Dr Martens from Cracking?
One of the best ways to keep your Dr. Martens from cracking is to regularly treat them with a good quality leather conditioner. This will help to keep the leather soft and supple, which will in turn help to prevent it from drying out and cracking. You should also avoid getting your boots wet whenever possible, as this can also cause the leather to dry out and crack.
If you do get them wet, be sure to stuff them with newspaper or another absorbent material afterwards to help draw out any moisture. Finally, be sure not only to store your boots in a cool, dry place when not in use, but also to avoid exposing them to direct sunlight, as this can also cause the leather to dry out and crack.
Is It Normal for Boots to Crease?
Boots are made to be worn, not just to look good in the closet. It's inevitable that they will get scuffed and creased over time, especially around the ankle area where they bend with each step. This is perfectly normal and nothing to worry about.
In fact, a little bit of wear can actually make boots look more stylish and lived-in. If you're really concerned about keep your boots looking new, there are a few things you can do to minimize creasing. First, avoid wearing them for extended periods of time; take them off whenever possible to give them a break.
Second, when you're not wearing them, stuff them with newspaper or shoe trees to help hold their shape. With proper care, you can keep your boots looking great for years to come!
Credit: www.reddit.com
Do Doc Martens Crease Easily
Do Doc Martens Crease Easily? If you're a fan of Doc Martens, you know that they're tough, comfortable, and stylish. But one thing you may be wondering about is whether or not they crease easily.
After all, no one wants to spend money on a pair of shoes only to have them look worn out after just a few wears. The good news is that Doc Martens are actually quite resistant to creasing. This is thanks to the high-quality materials and construction that goes into each pair.
However, there are a few things you can do to help keep your Docs looking their best for longer. For starters, avoid wearing them in wet weather whenever possible. If you do get them wet, make sure to stuff them with newspaper or another absorbent material until they're fully dry.
You should also avoid exposing them to direct sunlight for extended periods of time, as this can cause the leather to fade or crack over time. Finally, be sure to store your Doc Martens in a cool, dry place when you're not wearing them. This will help prevent any premature aging or damage from occurring.
By following these simple tips, you can rest assured that your Doc Martens will stay looking sharp for years to come!
Dr Martens Crease Protector
If you're a fan of Dr. Martens shoes, you know that they can last a long time with proper care. One way to extend the life of your Docs is to use a crease protector. A crease protector helps prevent the formation of creases in the leather upper of your shoes.
It's especially important if you wear your shoes often or if you live in an area with high humidity. To use a crease protector, simply apply it to clean, dry shoes before storing them away. You can find crease protectors online or at most shoe stores.
Doc Martens Tongue Crease
If you're a fan of Doc Martens, you know that one of the most distinctive features of the boots is the tongue crease. This unique detail is what sets Docs apart from other boots on the market and gives them their iconic look. But what exactly is a tongue crease?
The tongue crease is simply a horizontal line that runs across the middle of the boot's tongue. It's thought to be a design element that was first introduced on the 1460 boot, which was released in 1960. The crease helps to create a more streamlined look for the boot and also makes it easier to put on and take off.
While some people love the look of the tongue crease, others find it to be somewhat controversial. Some believe that it ruins the clean lines of the boot and takes away from its classic aesthetics. Others argue that it's simply an unnecessary detail that serves no real purpose.
At the end of the day, whether or not you like the tongue crease is purely a matter of personal preference. If you're looking for a pair of Docs that don't have this feature, you can always opt for another style such as the 1461 or 1490 boot. Or, if you're set on getting a pair with a tongue crease, there are plenty of options out there too!
Conclusion
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Obey Me OC/MC update!!
I just want to say if anyone is reading this and if you have an OC for anything you have all right to change and correct things and you shouldn’t feel bad, guilty or nervous. Sometimes you just don’t vibe with things you first created which is okay.
So I used to be okay at drawing but not so much now so we’re sticking with picrew, sorry not sorry.
Oc Template before- what I’m gonna be referring to.
Before I described her with having ‘light golden blonde’ hair
I’ve changed this to her having ‘strawberry blonde with gold peachy undertones/rose gold hair’
(If that makes sense. I have a very specific shade in my head and it’s hard to convey) She still styles it half up in a bun with a ribbon.
Outfit-
Nina typically falls into the light academia aesthetic with muted pinks and dark forest greens thrown in.
Her normal attire: A muted pink cardigan, white long sleeve shirt, maroon brown tartan skirt, white socks and Dr Martens platform boots or Mary Janes. Accompanied by her round frame glasses.
About them:
Personality and background-
Nothing really has changed personality wise or bio. Background I wanted to flush it out and change somethings:
- Nina grew up with her mother, an interior designer and architect that focuses on historic\old houses (idk if that is a real thing but we’re going with it) and her younger brother Julien.
- Because of this they’ve lived in places such as London, Paris, Amsterdam and New York.
- She has been drawing since she was little and is quite exceptional at it. Her sketch book is covered in drawings and paintings of anything and everything.
- She has a slight fascination with the macabre and is a huge history nut, which she got from her mother.
-Nina doesn’t remember when this started, but if you asked her mother she’ll say that she inherited it from her. Like mother like daughter.
- She also loves literature and reading in general.
- Since Nina has moved around a lot she never really formed a solid group of friends, so because of that she has never shared/expressed her true self or interests to anyone. So she was always known as ‘the weird new girl’
- Besides one time, she developed a close relationship with some girls at one of the many schools she attended and felt close enough to them that she showed them one of her sketch books that held her drawings.
-She wasn’t friends with them after this…however this incident only made her more passionate and headstrong about her art and herself. But she was never really friends with anyone after this incident.
- Nina developed a self dependent attitude since her mother would work long ours or would be away for long periods of time and her and her brother would be left alone or with a babysitter/nanny after they came home from school, plus she’s the oldest. Her bluntness and sarcasm she slowly developed because of school.
- On the inside and with her family Nina’s rather soft and cares about them a lot. She adores her brother and they get along really well, they recommend each other books and anime and would often play games together.
- She has a real admiration and respect for her mother since her mother was the one to take interest in her drawings and her art and pushed her to evolve her talents and didn’t find her more gothic/macabre drawings weird but encouraged her to draw more and also gave her advice.
- She was working at a coffee house during her break from her first year at Art University when she got accepted into the Devildom exchange program.
Songs or a song that describes them-
- mxmtoon- quiet motions
- Gracie Abrams- Hard to sleep
- Florence + The Machine- Various Storms & Saints
Relationships with the characters-
Lucifer- same
Mammon- same
Levi-same also- When she saw Levi so open and expressive with his love of TSL and anime Nina felt a little more comfortable with her own passions and likes. Plus he kinda reminds her of her own brother.
Satan- From both having a love of books, from fictional stories to history Nina was automatically drawn to Satan and after getting to know each other that small like turned into a big crush. They are often seen together either reading, studying or discussing a topic they both found intriguing into the early hours of the morning and on occasion going on a ‘date’ to a cat cafe or to the museum to see a new exhibit...if Mammon doesn’t insert himself and basically third wheels.
Asmo- At first she didn’t pay any mind to the avatar of lust. Sometimes he reminded her of those girls from high school. But after getting to know him and slowly beginning to open herself up more they soon became really close friends. She discovered they have a few things in common with each other. Now Asmo is the only other person she feels comfortable venting and talking to.
They often do skin care routines together and hang out in his room. Asmo often helps her with her sketches, modelling and posing for her to sketch and in return Asmo gets to keep a portrait of himself that she drew.
Beel- same
Belphie- So after figuring out Nina a bit more I decided to re-valuate Belphie and her relationship.
After...what happened, Nina kept her distance for a bit. It took a while but she sucked up her own fear and tried to move on for the sake of the brothers. She’s still weary around him sometimes and she knows deep down inside she’ll hold on to what happened for the rest of her mortal life.
Diavolo- same also- Tried not to bombard him with questions about everything about the Devildom and Demons in general. Very fascinated by everything and she respects him a lot.
Barbatos- same
Solomon- After getting to know each other a bit more and becoming an assistant and voluntary Guinea pig for his spells and experiments, Nina (even though she will deny this and never admit it to herself) started developing a little (big) crush on him. She finds him quite intriguing and interesting and they get along really well.
Simeon- same
Luke- same
Mephistopheles-The fact that he was the one to design the Prince Lucifer and Princess Diavolo stickers automatically makes Nina want to be friends with him. Although he seems to not like her that much. She wants to get to know him and figure him out and the relationship he has with Diavolo and Lucifer.
13-Sometimes she reminds Nina of those girls she was friends with in high school that she had a hard time with but she tries to move past this. Still a bit wary of her but open.
Raphael-Finds him interesting, especially since he actually likes and eats Solomon’s cooking plus the fact that he is closest to Michael (besides Lucifer from before the fall) Likes the fact that he’s not that talkative but feels like he’s silently judging her all the time.
Other-
Nina has relatively bad eyesight so she needs to wear her glasses predominantly all the time.
She also has two little moles right under her right eye.
She has suffered from bouts of insomnia since she was a kid and still gets them sometimes.
Loves a glass of white wine on a Friday night.
We all know Asmo loves clubbing so he tries to drag Nina with him as much as possible as Nina hasn’t exactly experienced anything to do with clubbing when she was in the human world. She loves the dressing up part of it but not so much the actual clubbing part as of yet. It feels too hectic for her.
She likes spending her time at the Royal Library (obviously) but also at the Mausoleum. She finds the architecture rather interesting and she loves learning about history and the past of the Devildom, it’s lore and it’s past kings.
She has secretly sketched all of the Brothers. Satan and Asmo most of all because she spends most of her time with them. She’s slowly starting to draw the others, the most difficult one to draw without said person noticing is Barbatos.
She has introduced her brother to Levi during an online gaming session and now both of them are friends and regularly have gaming sessions with each other, which she is very happy about. Both for her brother and for Levi gaining a new friend.
Her favourite things the brothers have gifted to her are: A matching tea cup set from Satan, matching earrings from Asmo (they both have one earring and the other one has the other) and the ring Solomon gave to her.
If she could, she 100% would take one of the Little.D’s home with her. Her mother would absolutely love them.
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So that’s it for now, I might add some stuff later💕
#obey me#obey me shall we date#mc tag#oc tag#update#obey me oc#obey me asmo#obey me oc tag#obey me mc#obey me belphegor#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me satan#obey me leviathan#obey me beelzebub#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me solomon#obey me simeon#obey me luke
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wondering, what would the characters usually wear in real life?
Hi Anon! Thank you for this ask and I’m so sorry it’s taken ages for me to reply! I love this question so much I’m going to turn this into a series of moodboards to provide a better look into their wardrobes, but for now here’s a little insight into each of them…
Lily - Lily has a perfectly put together style. It’s a little bit preppy, and a lot designer. You’ll struggle to find anything in her wardrobe that isn’t black, although she has a few deep red pieces. She is a demon, after all. In general, skirts, chunky boots and oversized jumpers. She feels no heat because nowhere is as hot as home, and so she’ll wear what she wants when she wants, not because the season dictates it.
Rota - Oh Rota. Our poor Valkyrie who is definitely not reflecting her usual style in the dome after the producers convinced her that armour wasn’t going to be appropriate. The producers did the viewers a disservice tbh because there is no chance that she wouldn’t look stunning in her full armour. Outside of the dome Rota has one outfit only - brown leather bodice and trousers, metal chest plate (with some shoulder plates to die for) and a long red cape. I haven’t been able to find a picture of what’s in my head so I’d love to commission a design one day.
Eli - Our Elf boy’s style is as eclectic as him. In general he’s happy in loose cotton clothing. It’s what he grew up wearing and it feels comfort for him. But he’s not afraid to mix it up and has some truly gorgeous clothes for when he’s living life outside of the forest, much to his mother’s disapproval. He has a love for colourful prints themed around nature - so floral jackets, shirts with butterflies, shorts with a fruit print are all part of his style. Oh - and jewellery- the boy loves jewellery.
Catarina - Cat has curves and is proud of them. The model in the pic above isn’t really representative of Cat…but the dress is 100% her. Her wardrobe contains long flowing skirts and dresses, chunky boots, off the shoulder jumpers, celestial prints. Cat wears a lot of black, but isn’t afraid of colour. Red and purple are two of her favourites. Although long and flowing might be her day to day style, Cat isn’t afraid to wear tighter fitting clothes and has a couple of little black dresses that have been known to be more powerful than a love spell…
Abe - Our dark academia boy who has no concept what dark academia is. His wardrobe is pretty much shades of brown. Tweed jackets, some corduroy, plain and checked shirts…always finished with some smart shoes that look like they are 1940s replicas. Abe’s style isn’t something he’s given any thought to, it just happened naturally for him. He dresses in neutral colours in order to fade into the background, completely oblivious to the fact that his style, coupled with his looks, means that he has an entire fan club back in Berlin, and there’s a reason why his reading club back home is so well attended.
Alex - Alex doesn’t give fashion much thought. He’s a classic denim boy. Jeans and a t-shirt or jumper, and he’s comfortable. He isn’t one for designer fashion. He’s lost too many items of clothing after changing into a wolf, and so dressing on a budget is a priority. He does have a vintage 1980’s denim jacket which he loves, and a David Bowie t-shirt which he treasures. So far his love of the 80s hasn’t stretched to growing a mullet, but there’s always time for that!
Zein - Zein’s style is quite minimalistic. They actively fight against the stereotype of genie’s wearing lots of gold and sheer fabrics, although they are usually found wearing a pair of harem pants (they’re comfy, ok?), and a vest top/ t-shirt. Zein wears a lot of grey and black, but also loves jewel tones so will often mix in some purple and blue. Shoes? Nah...you’ll normally find Zein bare footed, but they’ll wear some sandals if they really have to.
Cerri - Cerri doesn’t have much time for fashion - it isn’t something respected by the pack, and so it isn’t something on her priority list. That doesn’t stop her looking amazing in everything she wears. She has a brown leather jacket she wears at every opportunity, and it’s normally paired with a white top, blue or black jeans and some Dr Martens. Simple, classic, effortless.
Aayush - In or out of the bubble, Aayush is all about the suit. He’s been around for long enough to see fashions come and go, and he doesn’t buy into trends any more. He has a large collection of perfectly tailored suits and in his day to day life they’re what he wears for work and pleasure. However...he’s finding life in the dome and wandering around in shorts all day a little bit freeing, so who knows...Buried Love could be changing him, in more ways than one.
Fleur - Fleur describes her style is ‘cottagecore, but add some spice’. She loves pastel colours, and her wardrobe is a thing of beauty. True to her name, she loves a floral print, and don’t even get her started with how much she needed ‘that’ strawberry dress. But Fleur likes to mix her looks up. Huge chunky sneakers with floaty floral dresses is her signature look. She also has a sunglasses addiction...80 pairs and counting, and loves the edge they can give an outfit.
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76. it’s my birthday and you just fucking ruined my party and I don’t even know you
Danbrey, sfw or nsfw, please!
Here you go! I went SFW on this one
“Wow, dude, this is so fancy.” Jake takes in the dining room of Yosemite Lodge, “look, napkins!”
“Jake, we have cloth napkins back home.” Dani smiles fondly; while she’s more interested in the location and the decor, she agrees with her brothers overall enthusiasm.
The rest of Amnesty Lodge, where Dani lives and works, pooled their resources to surprise her with a weekend trip to Yosemite for her twenty-fifth birthday. She would have been happy camping, but they even went to the trouble of booking rooms in the main lodge and scheduling her a birthday dinner in the restaurant that looks out onto the valley.
Mama whistles at the menu from her seat at the head of the table, “damn, this is a good lookin dinner.”
Dani picks up the single sheet of paper, the silver writing informing her the meal with consist of a summer salad, shrimp scampie, and a strawberry rhubarb tart for dessert. When she glances across the table, Barclay is smiling down into his water glass.
“Oh my god, did you request a specific menu just for me?”
Her friend nods, blushing a little, “Head chef is an old friend from my line cook days.”
“Aw, you guys.” She sips the fancy cider Barclay ordered for the table, “you didn’t have to do all this.”
“You ain’t had a real party in years; seemed time to fix that.” Mama’s about to say something else when the fire alarm blares through the room and a server asks that everyone please exit through the side doors into the courtyard.
“Probably just a false alarm.” Barclay leans against a decorative rock.
“Uh, dudes? I smell smoke.”
Dani cranes her neck, tracks the path of the curling smoke through the lights from the windows to the main meeting room on the bottom floor of the hotel. A woman about her age, dressed entirely in red and black with, “The Lady Flame” emblazoned on her sparkly jacket, is talking and gesturing rapidly with disgruntled staff.
Two minutes later, the same woman steps onto the lawn with a sheepish smile.
“Hi everyone! It’s safe to go back in now. I, um, there was a tiny accident with some flashpaper. I think. Anyway, point is, I’m super sorry and there’s no more fire so please come enjoy my show. Oh, but, um, we have to move to the dining room due to some, um, ash.”
Just as she says this, one of the servers whispers in Barclays ear.
“Fuck. Sorry gang, sounds like we gotta postpone until tomorrow; whatever party booked ms fireball over there is gonna take up the whole restaurant.”
Dani sighs, resigning herself to a night of vending machine dinner as they head back inside. Then a hand settles on her arm and she’s locking eyes with the person who just ruined her evening.
“Hey, I always ask the cutest girl in the audience to be my assistant for the next bit. Do you want to-”
She pulls her arm away, “Yeah, hard pass, I’m not in whatever group decided to book you. I’m the person who’s birthday is getting turfed for your party.”
The magician cringes, “EEsh, I’m so sorry, I’ll, um, I’ll just.” She steps back, eyes glued to her black boots. As Dani continues into the lodge, she swears she hears the same voice go, “aw beans.”
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The spring sunshine feels perfect, the breeze is gentle, and there are literal bluebirds calling around her. Dani feels like a dang disney princess as she naps on a rock near one of the meadows.
Something--a chipmunk, she assumes--munches the grass below her.
“Dr Harris Bonkers, no! This is a national park and I’m not letting my only son go to jail for vandalism.”
Dani rolls onto her side in time to see the magician from last night scooping a massive, orange rabbit from the ground. When she straightens enough to notice she’s not alone, the woman freezes.
“Um. Hi. Again.”
“Hi.” Not feeling like rehashing last night, she studies the rabbit, “should he really be running around out here?”
“Not even remotely. He was supposed to stay in my room, but he gnawed his way out of his carrier, hopped onto the windowsill, and decided to bounce when he saw all the plants out here.” She cautiously sits on the edge of the rock, rabbit in her lap, “I really am sorry about last night. I never used to have problems during my shows, but lately it’s like my flashpaper has a freaking mind of its own. I was kinda hoping it wouldn’t screw with anybody’s plans but mine.”
“It’s fine.” Dani shrugs, “we’re just going to do a dinner re-do tonight.”
The woman bites a matte black lip, “Could I, um, make it up to you?”
“How?”
“Well, it’s your birthday, right? You’re supposed to spend your birthday doing things you like, so I could, like, keep you company while you do them?”
It would be nice to have a hiking buddy. Mama is taking a well-deserved nap, Barclay is off for a swim, and Jake found some rock climbers to hang with. And while the Lady Flame looked good last night, today she’s downright gorgeous. The dyed-red streaks in her curly, black hair, the freckles, black shorts that make her butt look incredible, all of it adds up to someone Dani wouldn’t mind spending the day with.
“Do you have shoes you can hike in?”
She kicks up one leg, showing off her Doc Martens, “I once walked five miles in these with no problems.”
“Great. Let’s get the doctor” she rubs the rabbit’s ears, “somewhere safe and get on the trail.”
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The hike’s only three and a half miles, but it’s taking them a long time to complete it. Not because they’re slow, but because Aubrey (as the Lady Flame calls herself) keeps stopping to look at or point out any interesting thing that catches her eye. It’s adorable.
Dani likes when she points out plants, because then she can show off a little.
“Dang, you really know your plants.” Aubrey stoops to take a picture of some Scarlet Monkeyflower.
“I run the teaching garden out back of the Lodge. Uh, Amnesty Lodge, where I live, not this one.”
“Coooool. I keep thinking about making Dr. Harris Boners a little garden when I finally find a place to stay put for awhile, but everything is always about how to keep bunnies out of your garden.”
“I mean, they can really trash it if you’re not careful.”
“I believe it, Dr. Harris Bonkers can take out a whole patch of rug in, like, ten minutes.”
“Herbs would probably be okay, clover too. I guess it depends on how much space you have.”
“Probably not much” Aubrey holds out a hand to help her across a creek, “traveling magicians don’t make much.”
Their talk turns to Aubrey’s life on the road, and her various misadventures trying to transport a fifteen pound rabbit on public transit. When they reach the waterfall that marks the trails end, they slip off their shoes and socks to dip their feet in the nearby pond, shoulders touching as they compare notes on growing up in sometimes stressful family situations.
It’s well after lunchtime when they get back, so they sit in the meadow and split a bag of chips, shooing away several overly ambitious squirrels. Mama joins them for a bit, and Dani smiles when she notices how quickly the older woman takes to Aubrey. Mama can never turn down a stray.
Dani’s already scheming for how to spend the last day of her vacation with Aubrey when the magician turns down her invitation to dinner. She’s a little disappointed, but Aubrey promises she’ll see her later.
Her birthday dinner redux is halfway into its second course when the lights at the front of the room brighten and the ones above her dim.
“And now, as an added, surprise treat for this evening's meal, the magnificent Lady Flame is here to dazzle you all with her astounding feats of magic!” The server at the edge of the room gives a thumbs up and Aubrey bounds into view, smile glittering brighter than her outfit.
To Dani’s delight, Aubrey is an amazing magician; her tricks are interesting, her patter is the same funny, energetic pace that their conversations were this afternoon, and her assistant is adorable. When she declares she needs a volunteer for her next trick, she’s holding her hand out to Dani before anyone else can raise theirs.
The trick turns out to be picking cards and showing them to the audience, though Dani notices Aubrey devotes as much sleight of hand to brushing their fingers together as she does to her act.
“And now, esteemed audience, I will produce a flower from my lovely assistant's hair!”
Dani smiles, then claps along with everyone else as Aubrey produces a spring of Larkspur from thin air. Literally, Dani cannot for the life of her tell where she was hiding it. Or how she was able to get what Dani said was her favorite flower on such short notice.
Aubrey finishes up her act (and doesn’t set anything on fire) to thunderous applause, and Dani spots Mama leaning over to whisper something to Barclay, who nods thoughtfully. It’s only after the magician has taken her last bow that Dani has a horrible realization; Aubrey went to all that trouble to make her birthday dinner memorable, and she didn’t get to eat any of it.
Her white sandals sink into the carpet as she carries a plate down to Aubrey’s room. When her new friend opens the door, she’s between worlds; sparkly jacket on top, red pajama pants on the bottom.
“I brought you some cake. Or, uh, I guess it’s a tart.” She holds out the plate and Aubrey takes it, cheeks going pink, “since you didn’t get the rest of the dinner.”
“Thanks” Aubrey steps back so Dani can join her in the room, “it’s chill that I didn’t get to join you all; I wanted to make up for ruining your dinner last night.”
“You already did way more than that. Aubrey, this was the nicest day I’ve had in months, and most of that is because I got to spend it with you.”
“I dunno, feel weird getting cake from a thing I crashed.” Aubrey is fidgeting with her bracelets, blushing harder every time she looks up and finds Dani still smiling at her.
“Can I give you something else instead?” Dani takes a half-step forward.
“Sure! What-” Aubrey’s words fade into a little sigh as Dani wraps her arms over her shoulders. Then her back bumps into the nightstand as Aubrey throws herself into a kiss.
“Hey” Dani teases, nibbling her ear as Aubrey holds her tighter, “you messed up my big reveal.”
“Aw dang, guess I’ll have to make it up to you.” Aubrey slips her hands down to the small of her back, “how does even more making out sound?”
Dani pulls her towards the bed, heart buzzing with warmth at the sight of her smile and the touch of her hands, “like the best birthday gift ever.”
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Chapter 8: Clean and Cut
Tw: Food, consumption of alcohol, and scarring.
You and Eivor go shopping for some more fitting clothes. After a succesful shopping spree, you head back home to relax and watch a movie with your lover. Unfortunately, you fall asleep halfway through the movie and Eivor decides she has some exploring to do. In the morning, you wake up and cook some breakfast. The chapter ends with a warm shower together.
Eivor’s POV
The reflection in the mirror stared back at me. I lifted my shirt and stared at the bandaged wound on my abdomen, every scar and pore on my body visible. I couldn’t help but feel insecure, never having seen myself from this close before. They were not pleasing to the eye but I always wore them with honor, each imperfection on my body from the large one across my cheek to the ones all over my torso. I lifted my shirt over my head, pulling the sleeves down to my elbows for a look at the ones on my back and stopped for a moment. A knock on the door startled me and I quickly readjusted myself and fixed my shirt. My hand held the door knob and slowly opened. Behind the door revealed Y/n giving me a small smile, she then asked me how I was feeling and if I found everything okay. I nodded and we walked over to her bedroom. The light peaked through the curtains and the room was tidy and kept.
“Eivor, Lay with me.”
Laying down in the large bed, I started to sink inwards. My body had never touched anything so plush and soft before. The bedding was pure white and the sheets soft. I imagine this is what resting on a cloud feels like. I turned towards Y/n and rubbed my hand across her arms, she rested in my chest and ran her fingers through my locks. She seemed to have an infatuation with my hair, I think it might be one of her favorite parts of me. When we embraced one another I never felt uncomfortable, she brought me peace. It pained me to think I almost threw everything we had away due to my selflessness, but she forgave me. Whatever feelings she held for me were always unconditional, even with my faults. Our lips met with a soft kiss, my hand holding onto the back of her neck. The kiss was short but intense until she pulled away and suggested we find some better clothes for me to wear.
Reader’s POV
I waited patiently next to the changing rooms for Eivor to reveal the outfits we picked out together, until I tapped on the door to check to see what was taking so long. When I opened the door she was almost fully dressed but needed a few tweaks from my magic touch. I grinned and helped adjust her pant zipper, which I could tell completely discombobulated her. She wore a slightly oversized gray shirt with a red flannel over it, the jeans were dark almost black and we picked out a good jacket to keep her warm. I fixed the collar of the jacket after helping her arms through the sleeve holes. Lots of pockets lined the sides reminding me that such a thing never existed in the Viking era. To finish the look, a black pair of 1460 Dr. Martens combat boots. She placed her hands in the pockets of her coat before giving a turn in the mirror, already feeling more confident. The shaved part of her head looked cut and clean from the haircut she just got, her Nordic braids falling just over her shoulder. The tattoo that covered her scar peeked through and when I stepped closer, the faint smell of a musky cologne radiated from her body. She was pleased with her new look, almost as much as I.
“Wait… I have a surprise.”
“Eivor, what are you doing?”
She had a small grin on her face when she pulled me outside and made me sit in a chair by the changing rooms. The door closed and I waited for her, “surprise”. We ended up picking a variety of sweaters, jeans, sweatpants, shoes and other fundamentals to start her new life. I noticed she stuck to darker and neutral colors, perhaps they reminded her of her armor. Time continued to pass as I heard Eivor shuffling in the dressing room in front of me. I started to count how many panels were on the floor beneath me until the door flung open and Eivor in a nice black suit stood in front of me. Her hands fiddled with her pockets as she looked down at the clean pair of dress shoes she had on. The sleeves hugged her biceps and thighs just enough and the low collar teased the skin on her chest. She looked up at me and did the cheeky smirk she always does, as if she knew just how good she looked.
“What do you think? Worthy of one of those things you call a “selfie”? I asked what I should wear if I wanted to impress someone. ”
My jaw dropped at the confident woman in front of me, whatever words I wanted to say were completely wiped from my mind. I gulped and stood in awe of her power before finally telling her how beautiful she looked. My mind just began to process that she, Eivor, asked for a selfie with me. Trying to control my laughter, I pulled out the camera on my phone. She pulled me closer and wrapped her hand around my waist, ready for the picture. The moment was so bizarre, taking a picture with a viking in real time. I snapped the photo and let her analyze it, she made a shrug before boasting about how good we looked. Suddenly, I was ready to go home and take off all the clothes we bought today.
“Alright, enough fun. Let's get out of here.”
When we arrived home, the day turned into night and I decided it was time to get comfy. I opened up a bottle of fine wine for me and Eivor, then pouring a glass for the both of us. Eivor made herself at home on the sofa while I popped in a Quentin Tarantino movie to watch. Some snacks laid on the coffee table and the smell of a lavender scented candle filled the room. Eivor opened up her arms for me to snuggle up to her chest. She wore a loose cut off tank top that exposed some of her chest. Our legs intertwined as my fingers ran over the tattooed skin on her arms and the movie began to play.
Eivor’s POV
I peeked underneath me to see Y/n eyes had closed. The film intrigued me so much I hadn’t noticed my lover fell asleep. I took a moment to think about how grateful I was that she remained in my life and admired the sleeping beauty atop of me. After readjusting myself, I placed two arms beneath her and cradled her body before lifting her up with ease. She rested her head on my shoulder and threw an arm over me, tired sounds escaping her. The door to her bedroom remained open and I pressed my back to widen the entrance. I threw the corners of her comforter to the side and laid her down gently in bed before covering her up so she wouldn’t be cold. My lips met her forehead with a soft kiss.
For an odd reason, sleep was the last thing on my mind. I closed the door behind me and made my way to the living room. She had a few books laid on the table in the middle of the room. Dozens in a bookcase nearby, some even collecting dust. Curiosity got the best of me and I turned the page open in one of her many journals. A feeling of sadness overcame me when I read the captivating yet melancholic words on the paper.
“November, 2nd 2020
The house is quiet as always. Perhaps, one day someone will find me worthy to occupy it with me. A woman to warm my bed on chilly nights like this. Suppression has only caused the deep sadness within me to grow and spread. I'm not sure what I’m doing with my life at this point, or what the purpose of this all even is. I don't believe I’ll ever be truly happy in my life at this pace. Maybe, the universe will send me an angel to guide me.
To love me…”
I rested my hand on my chin, as I read over the words repeatedly. She never told me she felt this way and I can't help but feel as if I read something I wasn’t supposed to. If she needed to speak to me about anything I know she would. I placed the journal back where it belonged and slouched on the sofa. My hand reached for the bottle of wine to pour another glass, meanwhile the window remained open and the tall lit up buildings could be seen even from afar. Mankind touched the heavens and my lips touched the brim of the wine glass. Cars raced below me and the bustling city never seemed to quiet. I began to understand how this overpopulated world is filled with so many lonely people.
I poured yet another glass of wine after finishing what I had lost count of. I flickered the light on in the bathroom before placing my hands on the sides of the sink and taking a good look at myself. Turning the faucet on, I then splashed some cold water over my face. Perhaps, it was an attempt to check if all that I’m experiencing is reality. My body let out a yawn and I made way to join my time-crossed lover in bed. I dropped the clothes I had on and laid underneath the covers. When I placed my hands over Y/n’s waist she shifted as If she woke up for a moment and shortly drifted off again. A kiss was placed on her bare shoulder before I felt my eyes begin to close.
Reader’s POV
The sunlight that peered through the window awoke me and I noticed Eivor was still sound asleep. Carefully, I stood up from the bed and tiptoed out the door. My cat meowed and pawed at the bowl on the floor next to her table. After refilling her bowl and checking her water, I started to rummage through the fridge for breakfast. After pulling out a couple skillets, I slapped a few slabs of bacon on the pan and started to cook them slowly. I gathered a bowl and started to beat an egg, adding some vanilla and cinnamon before dipping some bread in the mixture. The butter in the hot skillet started to melt and once the bread started to cook, the familiar smell of french toast filled the air. I flipped the bacon and pulled out some fresh strawberries to put on top of the toast.
Sure enough, Eivor stood by the hallway and let out a big yawn and stretch. She walked up from behind me and gave an embrace, placing kisses on the side of my neck and cheek. Eivor was always quick to run at the smell of food. She sat in a chair by the table with a silly grin on her face as I fixed a plate for her. Her eyes lit up when I placed the plate in front of her, even if it was a simple gesture. She started to scarf down her food as I sat in front of her stirring some sugar into my coffee. I passed some maple syrup towards her, a necessity in my opinion.
“Can't forget this.”
I chuckled and held my hand out across the table for hers to meet mine. The heat from the sun shined through the window and though I was unsure of how much time I had left with her, I enjoyed every second. Once we finished eating, Eivor stretched her legs out and jokingly rubbed her belly from how full she was. She had two platefuls after all. She was beautiful, even if she had just woken up and was yet to comb through her hair. Her deep and intense eyes held a certain ambiance, every scar on her body has become mesmerising to me. I stood up from my seat and onto her lap, straddling my legs around her as her tattooed hands grazed my backside. She looked up at me, a loving expression residing on her face. My eyes wandered to her right arm, examining the ancient tattoos. She held her forearm upwards, her fingers bending for me to get a closer look.
“This one here,” She pointed at the dated symbol and swallowed.
“Is in remembrance of my parents. I lost them when I was very young.”
I listened as she explained the story of her parents death, her situation became more clear to me. Though it was an old wound and whether she showed it or not, the impact was obvious in her now soft voice. Holding her arm out to the side now revealing a stitched symbol, she explained to me the meaning of the, “Aegishjalmur” symbol. Her people swore it granted protection and power to those who wield it. I listened patiently as Eivor guided me through every work of art on her body and she enjoyed telling me. My fingers ruffled her hair and I insisted on a nice hot shower, afterwards explaining how showers are better than baths.
When we entered the bathroom, Eivor pinned me in between her against the wall and we shared a passionate slow kiss. The nature of the kiss was purely romantic, rather than lustful. We undressed one another, her lifting my shirt and I hers. I undid the tie on her sweatpants and her body assisted me as they pulled down. I was only in underwear and those dropped shortly afterwards. I ran the water and adjusted the temperature to how I like it. Her hand played with the water running from the shower head, still puzzled by the small things from this time. Upon entering, the strong warrior had to jump back for a second from the water.
“How can you handle water this hot?” She exclaimed.
We laughed and I apologized before readjusting the temperature again. She let out a sigh of relief and let the water hit her naked body completely. My sinful eyes watched in pleasure as she applied soap over her body. From her broad shoulders, the muscles that poked out on them. To the water that fell upon her chest, the two hardened lumps that occupied her breasts. Finally, all the way down to the hairs on the middle of her pelvis. I applied some more soap to her body as for assistance, but I was truly worshipping the goddess in front of me.
“Turn around.”
“What?” She hesitated.
I nodded my head and gave a look as if I was demanding. Slowly, she obeyed and the deep cuts on her back from battle were exposed. It was always obvious to me that Eivor was insecure about her scars. The water fell down on her back washing the suds away, I placed my hand on her shoulder and she turned her head to the side with a concerned look. Eivor’s facial expressions relaxed when I started to place kisses from the back of her neck to the start of her waist. The mood changed completely when I pressed the front of my body to the back of hers, my arms wrapped around her sturdy abdomen.
“Eivor, you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. Don't you ever forget that.”
She turned around in one of the most vulnerable states I had seen her in, my words triggering something within her.
#female eivor#ac valhalla#assasinscreed#fem eivor#eivor#assasins creed valhalla#f!eivor#eivor x reader#fan fiction#fanfic
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Ladies and gentlemen I introduce you to Fantasy Academia.
- music from movies, folk music from Ireland, Scotland, France, Spain etc etc, things like 2 steps from hell
- talking to fictional characters
- read fantasy books (the lord of the rings, inkheart, dune, earthsea, Harry Potter, etc)
- wear the clothing that fits in your 'fantasy' mood
- When study/learn pretend that you're in the world that you want to live in
- Dance jigs, reels etc with people only you can see
- Drink tea with them (or other drinks)
- Walk with them
- Imagine you are from their world, entering this one.
- Bookstores with old and new fantasy books or about fantasy (myths, fairytales, creatures etc)
- cozy tearooms with fairies
- cobbled streets, lining with laterns
- linen shirts and long cloaks/capes
- classical fantasy
- Poetry about mythological creatures such as nymphs and dryads
- make friends with fellow fandommers
- (when possible) museums about the arts of old
- sketchbooks full of gnomes, fairies, warlocks, talking trees, oulse of a spell, quites from books - never orderly always weird (in the most positive way) and chaotic
- create your own paracosm
- find good in everyone and everything just one is enough
- anyone can love a rose, but it takes a lot of love to love a leaf - be that love.
- be messy, hair undone, clothes splashed with paint, untied shoelaces, one sock up and one down, when wearing trousers, one leg all straight down, the other curled up, glasses crooked on your nose, paint absentmindedly smushed anywhere, jackets crumpled around your shoulders, shirts crumpled, buttons buttoned wrong, muddy boots
- pencils in your forgotten tea
- Sketches everywhere, receipts, notebooks, tge empty pages of books, post-its
- candles surrounded by small stones
- symphonic metal (nightwish etc)
- letters written by feather
- Music from the Vikings (Wardruna, Danheim etc)
- Tea, Mead, Hot chocolate, Tinto Verano, butterbeer, glühwein, chai latte, your own created drinks
- Discuss your latest readings with (imaginary) friends and foes
- know the topography of your favourite books and movies
- Doctor who
- having Dates to Fantasy fairs
- rewatching fantasy movies (inkheart, lotr)
- research on the fantasy worlds
- create your own map/language/creatures
- brew your own potions
- make up your own food - want soup? Put pomegranates in it
- design tattoo ideas
- write your thoughts on finings of i.e. Magic, werwolves etc
- learn gallifreyan script, elvish, the runes etc
- find classical misicbased on the myths, fairytales or fantasy novels/movies
- make yourself a meal and womd up anecdotes or events to talk about with your favourite table guests
- Go for a walk with the (silent) conversation with the characters you like.
- write letters to fictional characters
- Pretend you're in a college for fantasy/myths or anything you like
- Make your own fantasy creatures (bow truckles, pygmy puffs, nifflers etc) on the web are a lot of tutorials of ideas how to
- Research religions and create your own
- experiment
- make your own nuttmix - find them whole, peel them, roast them, squash them in a old pot
- if you are up for it, plants in the house
- write your own poetry
- rolled up sleeves
- distraction is your weapon
- dr martens
- your pockets filled with findings of the day, a stone, a coin, a pen etc
- herbal teas
- leather stichted notebooks
- read fanfiction (fanfiction.net has a lot)
- uplift yourself and others
- leave lovely notes in books- so you or others will find them when you come across them when (re) reading the book
Feel free to add things 😃
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CHAPTER 8 - Closure
Never in her life would Chiara expect to find herself getting ready for engagement party of Harper Emery, of all people. But alas, neither would she think that her biggest accessory to the said party would be a wooden cane and yet here she was.
She felt equally nervous and excited about both, the process of getting ready and also the fact that after almost three months, she was going to spend the whole evening in the company of so many people. Considering the fact that Decembers in Boston were disgustingly cold compared to those back in San Francisco, Chiara decided not to test her own ability to not to freeze in the tiny, back cut out navy blue dress she wanted to wear initially, instead reaching for tight, long sleeved emerald green ones. She also succumbed the idea of wearing a thigh high boots, since she still needed to use a cane in spite of walking steadily. She grabbed the pair of black Doc Martens instead, put her hair into purposefully messy bun and stepped into the living room, where Sienna and Jackie were already waiting for her.
“Look at yourself!” Sienna smiled widely when she first noticed her. “Ready to blow some minds tonight?”
“Please, Sienna,” Chiara laughed shortly. “It just felt nice to put some make up on after such long time.”
“Well, you definitely dress to impress, Chiaris,” Jackie nodded, grinning. “I personally prefer undressing to impress, however. Is Lahela joining us?”
Chiara shook her head, going through her purse once again, making sure she wasn’t forgetting anything and without looking up, she shrugged: “He decided to spend tonight with Keiki.”
It was only a half truth. He was spending his night with Keike, but also with Kyra, who wasn’t feeling very well and wouldn’t really enjoy an evening spent at a party. The something going on between Bryce and Kyra, whatever it was, wasn’t exactly top secret, but Chiara knew that Bryce hasn’t told anyone about them yet and she didn’t feel like she should just spill it now.
“Whatever. Aurora is already there and she just texted me saying that the place is full of old doctors and even older teachers, so we really need to hurry up and get drunk with her.”
Sienna grabbed her coat and looked at Chiara, her face concerned.
“Are you sure you want to take the T, Chiara? We can always call a cab.”
“Thanks, Si, but I really want to take the T. I am going back to work in two days, remember? I kinda have to handle the basic life at this point.”
˜
It only took them about 20 minutes to get to the place where the party has been held and it was only when Chiara stepped through the main door that she fully realized that she would probably be meeting Ethan tonight.
Before she could drown herself in the sea of panic, nervousness, doubt and even sadness, she almost got crushed in a hug.
“Chiara, it’s so good to see you! We are all so, so happy that you are getting back!”
Chiara had to take two steps back and blink several times to match the face to the voice and the arms around her.
“Ines,” she smiled wholeheartedly. “I am the happy one. I missed you all. Yep, even you, Zaid,” she laughed as she noticed the older doctor to roll his eyes at the sentimental scene in front of him.
“I haven’t missed you at all, Ray,” he responded without missing a beat. “But I am glad to see that you are doing well.”
He took a sip of his drink and returned to the conversation he had with Ines before and as hard as he tried to look casual, Chiara knew very well that he just told her he actually did miss her.
˜
Ethan Ramsey was sitting at the bar, watching the crowd of people that all came to celebrate the happy couple. He really wanted to go home already, not feeling any of the happy vibes reaching him. The picture of scotch, book and comfort of his bed, was enough for him to dream about leaving, however he couldn’t bring himself to actually do so. It wouldn’t be impolite towards Harper and her fiancé, as he already congratulated them and the speeches were told and nobody really cared about the grumpy doctor at the bar. He stayed because he believed he’d see Chiara somewhere among the crowd, he hoped to at least catch a glimpse of her. Two hours ago, Ethan spotted Dr. Varma dancing with Aurora Emery and so he expected to see Chiara nearby, but two long hours have passed and she was nowhere to be found.
Just as he started to concede the possibility of her not coming to the party, the familiar voice behind his back startled him. He turned around abruptly on his bar stool and suddenly found himself staring in those beautiful green eyes, the eyes that were wide with surprise as they stared back at him.
“Chia- um, Dr. Ray. Nice to see you,” he nodded towards her, remembering her wish to keep things professional.
“Hi, Ethan,” she smiled softly as she grabbed the glass of wine she ordered and his shoulders visibly relaxed when she called him by his first name.
Chiara wished to go home. As happy as she was for Dr. Emery and Mr. Banks, she felt her legs slightly trembling after the pressure she kept putting on them for the last three hours and her head was hurting. Clearly, she was overwhelmed by all the noises and fellow doctors wanting to talk to her and foreign teachers asking her how did she – so young and beautiful – ended up with a cane. All she dreamed about was her bed and medical journal and some lovely, slow, silent music in the background. Sienna promised to take her home anytime she wanted but seeing how much she was enjoying her time with Danny on the dance floor, Chiara couldn’t bring herself to ask her to leave. And so, she decided to at least order a glass of wine and just observe the others from a corner of the room.
The possibility of meeting Ethan at the bar hasn’t crossed her mind even once, when really it was the only place she could imagine him spending the night at.
He looked as handsome as ever and it took Chiara by surprise. She believed she could face him and maintain the cold distance she decided to put between them this time. She wasn’t prepared for him, dressed in black button up shirt and black pants, to look so unfairly awesome.
“You look like you are attending a funeral,” she blurted out, trying to save herself from telling him how attractive he looked.
“I hate parties almost equally much,” Ethan replied, observing her from head to toes, admiring her beauty. Her cheeks were blushed pink, few strands of her hair sticking out of her bun, the dress flattering both, her figure and her complexion.
You look so beautifully alive, Rookie.
“Why are you here then?”
“Because I respect Harper and, as much as it may surprise you, I am sincerely happy for her to find the right man. Well, I would definitely be happier if the amount of “darlings” and “sweethearts” in their speeches was radically decreased, but nonetheless, I am happy for them.”
Chiara, despite trying to keep her expression cool and distant, had to laugh at the dissatisfied expression on his face as he said the words darlings and sweethearts.
“You hate nicknames in relationship. Obviously.”
“Yes, obviously,” he repeated. “I mean, they have their names for a reason.”
“But you call me Rookie,” the pointed out, sipping slowly on her wine.
Ethan’s expression softened immediately, remembering the first time he called her so.
“I called you Rookie on your first day in hospital, because I didn’t know your real name back then. That’s the difference. These two, I mean, Harper and Thomas are pretty decent names, why can’t they just use them?”
Ignoring his rage about Harper and Thomas not using their actual names, Chiara couldn’t help but tease him.
“Yeah, you didn’t know my name back then, but now you do, and you still call me Rookie. So I guess the nicknames are not all that bad.”
His cheeks blushed in dark pink colour as he realized that she was indeed right. He gave her a nickname and they both grew so fond of it, that he didn’t want to stop calling her that.
Clearing his throat, Ethan decided to change the topic before they would tangle themselves too deep in the memories and therefore regrets.
“So, have have you been doing?”
Chiara wasn’t looking at him as she answered: “I like to think that I am doing fine”
“What exactly does that mean?”
She shrugged, not really wanting to elaborate. She only wanted to talk to him about work and the money she owed him, the concept of the “how-has-life-been-lately” talk not fitting into her plan.
“My back doesn’t hurt much anymore, only when I stand for too long or sleep on one side for too long. The legs are fine, except the stability in my left leg – I don’t trust myself with it enough, I guess. That’s why I’ll have to use this little friend of mine-” she chuckled as she lifted her wooden cane up, “-a little bit longer than I initially expected. Other than that, I am totally fine.”
“And the nightmares?” he couldn’t help but ask, noticing the dark circles under her eyes.
“Manageable,” Chiara responded way too quickly and before he could accuse her of lying, she changed the topic. “Honestly, I think I should be the one to ask you if you were okay. I mean, this is 16 ounces glass you are holding in your hand and it’s filled with pure liquid. So you’re either drinking insufferably huge amount of vodka or you are drinking water, which in your case, is just as weird. Are you sick or something?”
Ethan couldn’t suppress his laugh anymore, hearing Chiara like that reminding him all the conversations they had while she was in the hospital.
“It’s water, which, for the record, I drink quite often, since as a doctor I know how important it is. And as much as I’d prefer whiskey tonight, I came here by car. Therefore, I just have to stick with the water until I get home.”
Chiara laughed at the tone of his voice, indicating just how very much he already wished to be home with a glass of said whiskey in his hand.
It was Ethan’s turn to observe the crowd, not knowing if Chiara still insisted on keeping their distance or if he could finally talk to her about all those things he wanted to talk to her about.
Chiara’s whole chest was tight, and she felt her heart breaking all over again at the sight of him. She missed him so much and she wanted to forget all the hurt he caused her and all the trust issues she’s had, because this light conversation they just managed to have, that was her relationship with Ethan. Laughs and teasing and caring for each other. For him to hate sweet couple nicknames and for her to tease him about not drinking alcohol in the middle of the party, it simply felt so natural.
This is who we are. This is what we could be if only he could stop leaving me in the dark. If only I could trust him.
The tears threatened to fall out of her eyes and she was thankful for the fact that Ethan wasn’t looking at her. She quickly blinked them away and took a deep breath before speaking again.
“I was actually hoping to talk to you?”
Ethan’s head snapped back at her, his expression surprised and also somehow… pleased?
“You were?”
“I wanted to let you know that I am officially getting back to work on Monday. I missed a lot, so if you have some work for me to catch up, you can send it and I’ll get through everything until then.”
“Please, Chiara,” he smiled softly at her, falling for her even deeper at those words, seeing how dedicated she was. “You’ll catch up just fine on Monday. Enjoy these two free days, the work will wait for you.”
“As you wish,” she shrugged, knowing better than to try to persuade him. “I also wanted to let you know that I haven’t forgotten about the rents you paid for me and as soon as I am back to work, I will pay everything back. Just give me another week or so, please.”
Ethan didn’t want her to pay him back. He didn’t miss the money and the fact that he could do at least something for her made him feel good. But just as Chiara knew about his stubbornness, Ethan knew about hers and so he knew that when Chiara Ray made her mind about something, there was no point in persuading her otherwise.
He was about to nod when he noticed Chiara wincing in pain and gently massaging her lower back.
“So much about no back pains,” he frowned. “Don’t you want to go home?”
“I’d really like to, but I am forbidden to go home without Sienna’s supervision, and she is having such a great time. I don’t want to make her leave, so I guess I’ll just drink wine until she decides to go home.”
“I was about to leave. I can take you,” Ethan offered without a second of hesitation.
She knew she shouldn’t accept. She knew that it was her idea to keep a distance and that stepping into Ethan’s car would ruin her dedication to maintain it. But in this moment, she also knew they both deserved a closure, the talk about them. The talk where both sides could talk and explain.
She hoped for them to be best friends again.
Chiara missed Ethan.
“Okay,” she nodded. “Let me just text Sienna. You can go first and I’ll follow you in a few minutes, so that people don’t talk about us leaving together.”
“Please,” he laughed loudly, for the first time in the evening. “People already are talking about us.”
“What?” she gasped, eyes wide with shock.
“I think it started at the softball game, when I’ve gotten a little bit too protective over you. That and the fact that not once in my eleven years at Edenbrook I attended a softball game. Until you asked me to play,” he chuckled, but after a brief moment his expression hardened. “And well, my, uh… breakdown in the E.R. after your accident, my visits by your bedside, I guess all of those things sparked the rumors.”
Not sure if she felt more amused or embarrassed, Chiara sent a quick text to Sienna, explaining that Dr. Terminator would give her a ride home and after putting her phone back to the purse, she grinned at Ethan: “Let’s give them something fresh then, shall we?”
Ethan put his hand at her lower back lightly and with a smug smile on his face lead her out of the party neither of them wanted to attend in the first place.
˜
The car ride was peaceful, Boston streets unusually quiet and empty, fresh snow reflecting the streetlights, making the street look brighter than it really was.
Ethan was being extremely careful to make sure the ride was smooth, not braking abruptly, not taking sharp turns. As okay as Chiara pretended to be, he was a doctor after all, and he knew that dealing with trauma came in waves. That anything could trigger a bad memory back.
His thoughts were disturbed by a sudden cry coming from Chiara’s mouth.
“Ethan, stop!”
He slammed the brakes, sighing with relief when he made sure that there was no car following them, as his sudden braking would definitely cause a crash. He turned to Chiara startled and despite wanting to respect her wishes, he reached for her hand.
“What is it, Chiara?”
“I am sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I just felt like the opposite car was about to crash into us.”
At this point, her whole body was trembling, her breaths short and shallow. She was at the beginning of hyperventilation, her face ghostly pale.
“Just let me park and we can step out of the car, okay? We’ll catch some fresh air and everything will be alright,” Ethan squeezed her hand and slowly pulled out, parking the car by the carb as soon as he could. Turning the engine off, his whole figure turned towards Chiara.
“You haven’t been in car since the accident?”
After taking a few deep breaths to steady her senses, Chiara look at Ethan and with a weak voice, she replied: “Only once, when Bryce drove me home from the hospital. But that was at the noon and I could see the whole car on the opposite side of road. I could see that the car was in its own lane, I could even see the driver. But now it’s night and it’s dark and the only thing I see are the two front lights getting closer and closer and…” she trailed off, not able to finish the sentence as her lower lip was trembling again.
Ethan cupped her cheeks with his hands and with voice so soft it broke her heart, he whispered: “It’s okay, Rookie. You are okay, you are safe. We don’t have to continue, we can just sit in the car until you feel better, okay?”
She nodded, leaning into his touch as she closed her eyes. The comfortable silence in the car was only disturbed by occasional car driving by them and for the first time in almost two weeks, Chiara felt safe.
“I guess we should talk,” she muttered into his hand.
“About work? Because as I said, there’s no need-“
“About us,” she cut him off, straightening on her seat.
Ethan raised his eyebrows in surprise, but soon his expression was utterly vulnerable.
“I would like that very much. Do you want to talk here in the car? Or at your place? Of course we could go to my place, as it provides more privacy, but I am fine with whatever you want. As long as you feel comfortable,” he felt the hotness creeping on his neck, realizing very well how nervous he must’ve sounded.
“Your place sounds fine,” Chiara smiled at him, amused as she, too, realized just how nervous he suddenly was.
˜
As they stepped into Ethan’s apartment, the first thing he made sure of was that Chiara was sitting comfortably on his couch.
“Can I offer you something to drink?” he asked, making his way to the kitchen.
“I’ll have whatever you are having.”
“Uhm, I am not going to have anything, so I recommend you to change your mind.”
“You came home to have scotch.”
“Yes, but that was before I knew that you would join me. I’ll be taking you back home,” he shrugged, pouring himself another glass of water.
“I’ll just take a cab,” she rolled her eyes. “Get us both some good scotch, please.”
“There’s no way I am letting you take a cab,” he shook his head. “I promised you a drive home and I intend to give you that.”
Chiara wanted to fight him, to tell him that she was a big girl and didn’t need to be supervised all the time, but she came here to talk about them and so she let the topic of whiskey go.
“I think it’s rather fair to both of us to know where we stand, now that I’ll be back to work and things will go back to normal.”
Ethan joined her on the couch, his expression thoughtful as he kept looking not at her, rather at the coffee table. He nodded slowly and even though he realized that it was not a gentleman thing to do, he started to speak before she could say anything else.
“I am sorry, Chiara. If I am to tell you only one thing tonight, I want you to know, most of all, that I am truly and infinitely sorry for everything I’ve ever put you through. I am sorry for leaving you when you most needed me, for running away when things got hard, for pushing you away only to pull you closer. I now see just how huge coward, how huge asshole I’ve been all that time. And I know very well that one damn ‘sorry’ doesn’t make up for everything I’ve caused you to feel. But still, I am sorry.”
“You weren’t all that bad, you know,” she grinned. “I have forgiven you a long time ago, Ethan. I don’t hate you, obviously. I am not even angry. And I missed you. I mean, there’s no better target of my teasing than you, old man. What we had, while I was in the hospital, it was more than I’ve ever imagined we could be. Being close friends with internal jokes and deep talks, I miss that, Ethan, but I am so afraid to trust you, because every time things got actually good between us, you’d take a step back. So I need you to tell me what you want and once it’s said Ethan, I need you to stick to your words. No matter what.”
Ethan stood up and started to pace nervously around the living room, preparing himself to tell Chiara everything he wanted to tell her for such a long time.
“Not so long ago I told you that there was no such a thing as unconditional love or soul mates. That I am not capable of love, because I don’t believe in it in the first place. But sweet Lord, seeing you in the I.C.U. after the accident, believing that I would never see your eyes open, that I would never hear you laugh again, it made me think. And as terrible as I am at expressing my emotions and my feelings, I no longer feel that way. I know now that whatever it is that you feel for me, it’s unconditional. It must be, because otherwise you would just give up on me already. And I know that what I feel for you, whatever it is, is unconditional too.”
He took a deep breath and sat back down on the couch next to her, taking her hand into his.
“For a long time I believed that the thing I wanted the most was to have you all to myself. To selfishly call you mine. But now I know that is actually not what I want the most.”
“Oh?” she interrupted him for the first time, her expression visibly pained.
“What I want more than anything in this world is for you to be happy. You deserve the whole world Chiara and you deserve to be happy and nothing else but happy. And I know myself. I am broken man, destroyed one. Cynic. Asshole. Unable to express what he feels, enable to show affection. No matter how much I care for you, there are still men out there, that would be so much better at expressing it. Even though they wouldn’t care as much as I do, they would show you just how much they do. If we were together, we would have to keep our relationship a secret. I wouldn’t be able to take you out for a dinner, to accompany you to the parties as your plus one. You deserve so much better than me, Chiara, and I want you to have the best.”
There was a long pause after that. Chiara was staring at the wall, obviously way too deep in her thoughts, considering everything Ethan has just said. Her brows were furrowed, her fingers playing with the hem of her dress without her mind actually realizing so.
After what felt like forever, she turned to Ethan and looked straight into his eyes.
“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Ethan. As noble as it is, for you to want me to be happy even if it’s with someone else, if you selfishly want me all for yourself, just say it, damnit. I can decide if that’s what’s best for me.”
The fire in her eyes as she looked at him made Ethan’s throat dry. Before he could compose any meaningful sentence, Chiara added: “But remember, I need you to stand by what you say. I need you to keep your words this time, Ramsey.”
“Well, then I selfishly want you all for myself, Rookie,” he smiled at her, the fact that she didn’t retreat the hand he was holding giving him a tiny bit of hope. “And I wish I could be the one to make you happy.”
“You mean it?”
She wanted to come with a comeback, with response that would break this tense, vulnerable, raw atmosphere, yet she needed him to ensure her that he wouldn’t change his mind in the morning.
“I mean it. With all my heart, if there’s something of it left. I mean it with my whole being, Chiara. If you ever decide to give me, give us, a chance, I promise not to give up on us, not to leave, not to push you back. I can't promise you happily ever after and I can't promise to never disappoint you again, because I likely will disappoint you again. However, I can promise to learn how to change. I promise to work on the relationship harder than I’ve ever worked on my degree.”
They both laughed, knowing that such promise meant more than any other could mean.
“Well, in that case, it’s a good thing that I selfishly want you all to myself too, Dr. Ramsey,” her words almost a whisper as she let them out.
For the first time ever, their lips met in a kiss that didn’t taste like regrets, doubts and sorrow.
For the first time ever they kissed with hope and promises and happiness.
#open heart#open heart choices#open heart fanfiction#ethan ramsey#ethan ramsey x mc#pixelberry#play choices#sienna trinh
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If I Can Be So Bold: Chapter 1 (Jack White x OC)
Summary: Rosalie and her band “By Elliston” move from Nashville to Detroit to continue their music careers and move away from their demons. Rosalie notices an unhappy face in the crowd of their first show, and is instantly drawn to him. While she doesn't mind that hes easy on the eyes she does mind his less than stellar attitude about their music.
Word Count: 3K
Warnings: Drug use, language, and mentions of abuse.
Notes: Well this has been brewing for A WHILE. I’ve been everywhere deciding on a plot, but after tedious planning this is finally a reality. I hope the 5 Jack White fans on here enjoy this. This will be a series so strap in folks. We got young jack. we got old jack. we got everything in between. (also series names are hard) Enjoy! Appreciate all the research i did!
Chapter Two
“Do you want another?”
He holds his hand above me, his dark eyes burning holes into me, he pulls back more as if ready to strike again. As if on command, I recoil from the movement, feeling smaller than I ever had.
My head shoots up, suddenly back in Zoot’s coffee house. I blink a couple of times, trying to wake myself up. I couldn’t remember what she asked.
“What?” I asked her, phasing back into reality again, and not what was a horrific nightmare.
Sat next to me was my best friend and singer in our band was Harry, or Harriet if you want to be technical. Her head was held high, and she was practically jumping out of her skin with excitement, she seemed more than ready for our first show in a new town.
She moved one of her two shots in front of me and asked again.
“Are you deaf, Lee? I asked if you wanted another shot before we go on.”
I quickly sat up and grabbed it off the makeshift bar, anything to shake off what I was feeling.
We clinked our drinks together, and she yelled out a toast over the crowd of people behind us.
“To fresh starts and new stomping grounds!”
We clinked our drinks and quickly downed them, both of us coughing from our burning throats, but as soon as we saw our red faces, we burst out into laughter.
“We are horrible at shots, aren’t we?” I said in between wheezes of laughter.
“We truly are.” She paused and grabbed the bottle. “One more for good luck!.”
It seems like this is the night, if any, to drink.
We’d just gotten to Detroit. Like just got here a week ago and are already booking shows. We all decided to move her for reasons I won’t mention, but I’ll just say that we needed to switch up our scene a bit.
Our band “By Elliston” had grown pretty big in the Nashville scene, we played pretty frequently at the Exit/In. Which is not the biggest venue in the world, but it means something for the Nashville scene. I mean, we technically shared a stage with Muddy Waters and BB King, so that’s at least something to brag about.
We were known in the Nashville punk scene and had made some significant headway, but thanks to shitty people and our big egos, we decided to move to Detroit. Known for its great music and cars.
And here we are at Zoot’s Coffee shop, which is arguably a coffee shop honestly. Off a dark street, that no person with money would venture down, and the outside seems like nothing is out of the ordinary, it’s just a house on a street. But the inside. Its a home, its a coffee shop, and venue for anyone who has an instrument.
Its packed wall to wall with people, barely any standing room, especially near the stage, which is just a raised corner of the living room. Its the perfect venue for any rock band. Small and loud.
We (being the band and me) all lived for music, and it is our life’s blood.
I grew up in a very southern home and was always surrounded by music, thanks to my dad. Id never met a man who loves Johnny Cash more than him or country music for that matter. Cash would always play through the house, or Hank Williams, Waylon Jennings. That kind of thing. However, I can’t stand to listen to any of them now. Overplayed and over appreciated is what I always said.
That did spark something in me. I started playing guitar, thanks to my dad… and then I picked up the bass and then drums. And so on and so on. The moral is that If you hand me any stringed instrument ill know how to play it.
The other girls. Jo, Harriet, and Ezra. All got into good music when they were in high school, which also when we all met. Thanks to the high school band or orchestra. I played violin, as did Jo and Harriet, Ezra played the stand-up bass and continues with the bass to this day.
Now we’ve all moved on the from hot cross buns and into a world of rock and roll. We used to be terrible, covering a lot of Alice in Chains and Nirvana.
Graduating class of ‘93 for all of us, and we lived in a world of grunge. Five years later and we’ve since moved on from our teenage ways. We’ve embraced the blues and everything around it. However, we get a bit heavier than our inspirations, with my heavy fuzz and Harriet’s raspy yelps. With the look of punk dads (a lot of fun button-ups, dark makeup, and Dr. Martens boot) and the sounds of 4 angry ladies, we tore up Nashville.
We played a lot of house shows, met many a band, lost many a group, met a dumb boy who won’t be named (its John), and had a lot of fun tearing up the Nashville scene.
As we grew, we played bigger venues, the show of ‘96 at The End being the staple of our career. We’d never played as good as we did then, and none of us are convinced we’ll play as well as we did that night.
Either way, we were thrust forward, and our movement grew, we were making money from our shows, plus we played bigger venues. The Exit/In and The East Room, to name a couple. Last month we felt we needed a change of scenery to grow. As incredible, the Nashville scene is, its also quite small. Few venues and fewer people. That’s the other girl’s excuse, at least.
We scrounged up what we could, found an apartment here, and moved as soon as we could. Unlike the others, I had to burn some bridges to get here, but more will be made here. We scooped out the scene the moment we arrived and set up a show here, and we are all buzzing to perform again.
“So, who are we opening for again?” I asked as we headed to our van to start and unload our gear.
“The White somethings.” Jo absentmindedly answered, wrapping her jacket around herself for warmth.
Harriet quickly cut in, “The White Stripes, you mean.” Correcting her.
We all arrived at our shared van and started grabbing our mess of cables and cases.
Harriet continued, “I’ve been asking around all night about them, you know. To learn about the enemy and such.”
Jo popped her head up from the front seat and asked, “When have you had the time to ask around? I was with you literally all night.”
Harriet picked up her small load for the night and parked a seat on the car next to ours, lighting a cig while she sat.
“I have my ways.” She said, wiggling her eyebrows before taking a long drag.
“Anyways, here’s what I’ve learned. They’ve been around a year, the drummer learned when they got together, and guitarist leads the show.” She spoke with her ever-present dramatics, waving the cig around after every word.
“They can’t be that good if the drummers new, and they’ve only been playing a year.” Said Ezra, who was effortlessly carrying what seemed to be the world’s most massive bass amp.
“I don’t know, Z. It seems agreed that they know how to rock a room.” Harriet pipped up.
“What does it mean for us then?” Asked Jo who’s joint was lit and already in her mouth, and arms were full with various drums. Explains why she was digging around the front seat.
I quickly cut in, not about to let them get nervous over a baby band. “Absolutely nothing. We’ve got six years on them. These Detroit kids won’t know what hit them, we’re from music city for god’s sake.”
“That’s the spirit, Lee! Now get your asses inside so we can set up.” Harriet popped off the car and started walking towards the door, beckoning us towards her.
“Feel like helping us speed up the process, Harry?” Joked Jo.
“You’re big girls. I’m gonna go try and spot the enemy.” She yelled back to us.
“Oh, have fun, we will just be here carrying your band!” I yelled out.
“I knew I could count on you, darling!” She called out, throwing a wink and cigarette butt our way.
When we had finally reached the stage, the already crowded room had doubled in bodies. While most bands would be shaking in their boots, it only spurred us on more. While we all have our fair share of disagreements, we have one thing in common. Our shared headspaces before a show. All ready to take on anything, and our confidence is unwavering. The bigger, the better. It’s honestly what’s kept us together this whole time.
Now all eyes were on us, and it was a tough crowd, it was dead silent. The girls and I all exchanged a look and nodded. I always started us off. We had a set opener, it never changed and worked every time, but after that was a free for all. I usually took charge and just chose whatever I was feeling, but if not me, then Harriet. The other two just flowed with whatever we threw their way.
I always started first with the heavy riff, joined in by Ezra, then Jo, and finally Harriet.
The riff is what pulled them in, and it was always quite the sight. I got fully into it every time. It was dark, straightforward, and full of fuzz and feedback.
By the time Harriet joins in its mayhem, I speed up and play power chords. It’s not slow, but it’s not so fast that it’ll make your head spin.
As the short show progressed, we felt like how we used to feel every night. Pure joy, which is what we all fucking needed.
We improvised. I mashed up whatever songs I even threw in a little Stooges to thank the locals for letting us play. Though I did notice the gaze of one oddball in the back, who was just… watching.
While that doesn’t sound weird, it was sure out of the ordinary. He sat in the back, arms crossed leaned against the wall. The whole mysterious boy schtick was down pact. He wasn’t scowling, but he didn’t seem happy. It was off-putting and kept my focus over towards that corner of the room, but didn’t hinder the performance. Maybe it fueled it.
The show couldn’t have gone better, though. The crowd did not hide their whoops and hollers when we finished our last song of the set. I was already riding that performance high and will be for the rest of the night.
“Thanks for a great first night, Detroit! We’re “By Elliston,” and we hope to see you next time!”
Screamed out Harriet for a final goodbye as we headed off the stage, their applause carrying us off the small stage.
The moment we put down our instruments, we about took each other out, tacking one another to the ground.
As tradition carries, after every show, we used to just aggressively group hug, but over time we’ve grown more and more… excited. At one of our last shows at The Exit/In, I accidentally knocked out Jo by slamming into her too hard. If that gives any frame of reference to what our dog piles look like now.
“Ladies. If every show goes somewhat like that here, I think we will rule this scene.” Ezra said from the bottom of the pile, her words garbled from the mass of bodies.
“Alright, Lee, get your ass off the top, you’re gonna snuff me out down here.”
Without much warning, she slid out from underneath us, and the rest of us went down to the ground, causing all of us to erupt in laughter.
Once we all straightened ourselves out, we went to the van and had a celebratory cig, the first of many “celebratory” cigs of the night,
To my right was Harriet leaning against the tail light, and Jo and Ezra were sitting in the van next to me. Harriet broke the silence.
“You know I missed this, Lee. I’m glad you’re back.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean Har-” While talking I’d noticed three figures a few cars over walking to their own. My eyes widened in surprise. I grabbed Harriet’s arm suddenly and dragged her in with the rest of us.
“Shut up. It’s him.”
“What I wasn’t even talking-” she stopped and sat up to face, she wasn’t upset, but she sure looked confused. “Wait, who is “Him?”
I looked around to check to see if he could hear.
“I saw him when we were playing. He kept just… staring at me. It was weeeird.”
“Why’d you pull me in the car then??”
“I panicked! It was just weird!”
Ezra peaked her head out of the car in curiosity and asked. “Which one is it, the young blondie or the black-haired beauty?”
“Gah Jesus, not the child, Ezra! It’s the hot one.”
Harriet whipped her head out of the car to look at them, speaking a bit too loudly.
“Lee, you need to start off saying it was a HOT stranger! You have my interest now.”
“I’m going to kill both you. Get your dumbasses back in the car.”
We huddled back up, Harriet has a look in her eye that I don’t like.
“So, what’s the plan of action here, Lee?” Asked Harriet.
“Nothing. He’s a scowler. Sure a hot one at that, but if he can’t enjoy what we make, then what’s the point? When we played that stooges song, he looked like he was going to blow his top.”
“I think you’ve missed the point here, Lee. Point one, You’re fresh out of a toxic sludge of a relationship. Point two, hot stranger. And finally. Point three, he’s a hot stranger in a band. I’m not passing up this opportunity.”
She gave us a wink, took a final drag of her cig, and hopped out of the car. She was going over to them.
“Harriet, you fucker don’t you dare,” I said with gritted teeth. “I’ve tackled you once today, and I’ll do it again.”
She chuckled. “You’re all talk, kid. I’m off to make friends!”
“Bastard!” I yelled, leaping out of the car and towards her. I was too late, she just about ran over to them, and I was quickly in tow behind her.
“Well, look at that, Lee! New people. Hi there, I'm Harriet, but you can call me Harry. and this is Rosalie.” She extended her hand towards the three strangers.
“Its Lee actually, she’s just an asshole.”
All of them looked slightly taken aback. They were sure as hell wasn’t expecting her hand in their face, or two random ladies in their space. The newly named “hot stranger” was the first to speak up. He seemed rightly hesitant.
“I’m Jack, and this is my sister, Meg. This over here is my nephew, Ben. He’s our pinball wizard. Or Roadie in technical terms.”
“Well, good to meet Y’all!” Once she shook ben’s hand, he spoke up. Man he was young. Was he maybe 16? Not over 18 is the point.
“You guys played a hell of a show. The Stooges? Blues? You’re going to give these two a run for their money.”
Jack shifted on his heels when ben mentioned this. Same face as before, and little less friendly than introductions.
“Well, its all that Tennessee blood in us. Now we arent from Memphis, but Nashville’s close enough, right?” Harriet winked at the kid. His cheeks flushed a deep red.
Jack shifted his eyes back to me, but they wander somewhere else.
I clear my throat, he snaps his head up and makes eye contact with me, a small smirk falls on his face.
“Well, you all seem busy, so Harriet and I are going to go back over there. Have a good show.”
I grab her arm and try to drag her away casually.
“What the fuck are you doing?” She whisper yells to me. We find ourselves on the other side of our van, out of their sight.
“Lee, You have never been one to shy away from new people. Especially men. Remember us, fresh out of high school? You practically had a different man in your bed every night. That whole nervous persona is new. Go seduce a hot stranger!”
“Jesus, Harriet! Lower your goddamn voice! First off its Jack, And yes I know. Different times though. I’m not going to go over there in front of his sister and prepubescent nephew to try and get in his pants.”
“Aw, come on, Lee! It’d be fun! Plus, you need a fucking rebound, girl.”
“Okay, well, talk me into this when its not a family reunion.”
“You got yourself a deal, Rosalie.”
We started to make our way back to the other girls.
“Alright, ladies, let’s go catch our headliner,” I said, opening the van doors. A plume of smoke rolled out of it the moment the doors opened. I grabbed the joint from Ezra, taking a hit before going inside. I handed it back to the faded bass player and headed back inside.
#Jack White#the white stripes#jack white x oc#jack white fic#nosferatyou writes#if i can be so bold#series#meg white#ben blackwell#nashville#detroit#jack white x reader#the raconteurs#the dead weather#masterlist
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