#Approaching 11 years with a certain tiny guy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

casicroaks · 2 years ago

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Tiffany Valentine has two things in her mind: love and murder. The origins of the brains behind the infamous Lakeshore Strangler and the string of broken hearts she left along her way to Chicago, interwoven with the development of the tempestuous relationship between her and a certain Charles Lee Ray.

CHAPTER 9

[ CHAPTER 1 // CHAPTER 2 // CHAPTER 3 // CHAPTER 4 // CHAPTER 5 // CHAPTER 6 // CHAPTER 7 // CHAPTER 8 // CHAPTER 9 // CHAPTER 10 // CHAPTER 11 // CHAPTER 12 // CHAPTER 13 // CHAPTER 14 // CHAPTER 15 // CHAPTER 16 ]

NEW YORK, 1976

I wiped my nose, sniffing and licking my upper lip, and had a long sip of my cherry coke, enjoying the funny tickling of the bubbles in my throat. Time was passing far too slowly. I still had a couple hours before I could punch in to my night job. I bounced my leg, staring at the clock on the little diner’s wall, hoping that would make it move faster.

“Hey, can you change the channel?” I asked, turning to the sweaty guy behind the bar.

He shot me a glare and shook his head no. A bunch of people had congregated around the TV, silently watching the Memphis procession of sobbing fans. I had already checked the couple magazines and newspapers by the bathroom door for any update on the current news I was following, the one of a serial killer in Los Angeles and the one about Paul Michael Glaser and Cher’s possible affair. Everyone else was too busy with the king’s funeral. As if he hadn’t been dying for the last few years already.

Having nothing better to do, I went over an interview with Lynda Carter about her recent marriage. ‘She thought of herself as a loner –till love freed her’ , I read under a photo of her, with her piercing blue eyes staring straight at me. Good for her, I thought. Not that I was ever a big fan of Wonder Woman anyway.

When I arrived in New York, back when I was fourteen, I was mostly surprised with how dirty and noisy and stinky it was –not at all like in Love Story or in An Affair To Remember. Despite that, I wasn’t daunted. A city is just a city, and it wasn’t like I had never been to Newark before. I had to admit, though, I had been way out of my depth. I was so entranced by the sights and the movement of the crowds that I wasted quite a few hours just walking around. By the time the sun was setting, I was still out and had nowhere to stay. I tried at a couple of hotels, but they all either told me to scram or asked me where my parents were. And there I was, thinking I looked so grown up. Not wanting to risk it, I just said they were waiting for me right outside, and I simply left for the next hotel, trusting that they would ask fewer questions. Regardless, most of the nicer hotels were pretty damn expensive, too much for what I had brought, and it was already pitch-black outside when the city lights were turned on, a dazzling sight that I had to force myself to ignore to focus on getting somewhere I could sleep for the night.

Two hours till seven. I stirred the straw in my glass, the ice cubes spinning and tinkling, trying my best to drown the depressing sounds of the crying from the TV.

It hadn’t gone as I had expected. After hours of walking, I had finally found a smaller hotel, a grimy little place a few blocks away from the chaos of Times Square, and there they didn’t ask any questions. Nobody seemed surprised by the sight of me, the only teenager there; even better, I thought, once I got in my tiny room and sat on the lumpy cot, and counted my money yet again just to make sure how many days I had to stay there. I wasn’t gonna get comfy there or anything. All I needed was a good steady job, and then I could leave and find somewhere nicer.

Next day, after some breakfast and a visit to Central Park, I looked for a job. I tried asking at a couple bars, at a laundromat, at a hair salon, at a tobacconist. I was hoping the 'take-no-for-an-answer' approach would help me. They all either rejected me and threatened to call the cops if I didn’t scram, or told me they could give me a try, but that I wouldn’t be getting any payment until the beginning of next month. I was needing some cash fast, but I wasn’t that desperate yet. I went back to the hotel, counted my money again, and wondered if I should avoid eating for a while.

The following day I didn’t have breakfast, but I did have a consolation strawberry milkshake after hours of asking if there was an open position for me at any shop I passed by, including the store where I had bought the milkshake. On my way back to the hotel, I was mugged. I was too startled to do anything –it all happened so fast I didn’t even have time to take my switchblade from my bra. The mugger ran off with my backpack and everything I had stuffed in my pockets. I was left with the clothes on my back and a couple dollars I had saved in my underwear along with my switchblade. The money wasn’t enough for another night at the cheap hotel. It was barely enough for a bus ride back to Hackensack.

I had considered going back home. I quickly changed my mind. Then I considered calling my mother. I didn’t. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

And after that, it’s all a haze. I remember some scattered things, like walking up and down the avenues all night, and sleeping very little, if at all. Trying to make the little money I had last longer, looking for places with cheaper food. Asking for jobs, and getting one, and then being cheated out of my pay, and smashing things at the workplace out of sheer rage, and being taught that that way I would get caught by the police very, very soon. I was still underage. If I was caught, if someone found out I had run away from home, I would be taken back. Or, what might be worse, nobody would claim me and I would be thrown into an orphanage, or wherever else unclaimed children were dropped.

And the noise of sirens –God, all the damn time, but especially at night. If the cops were really doing their job, they wouldn’t need to be lighting up the roof every single night the entire night, you know. Not that I slept much anyways, of course, but there was a point in which I was living with headaches from the sheer racket these sirens made.

Yes, New York wasn’t what I had expected. I sighed, finishing my glass of coke and leaving the mourners at the diner to their pathetic little endeavor. Maybe I should have really reigned my expectations, back then. But hell, I was fourteen, for crying out loud! I was barely more than a kid. Beyond what I had told myself back then, and how well it had turned out, I did take a big fucking risk. I forced a smile, sticking my chin in the air, letting the little evening sunlight hit my face as the sky began to clear.

The past was the past. And, right then and there, I was happy enough.

Backstage, girls with glitter all over their faces, with lashes as long as my fingers, were dressing up, zipping up, shaving armpits, ironing ponytails, spraying hair, mending rips and hiding holes in stockings. There were also stockings hanging from wires from where little lightbulbs flickered, and piles of used brushes able to supply any wig store, and piles of dirty Q-tips next to lipstick-stained cigarettes, and fallen sequins covering the concrete floor. Men came in to talk with a few of them. I had to assume they were friends or family of the girls.

“Don’t they ever knock?”

“Good thing we’re decent.”

“Hi, Sal.”

Sally turned to me over her bony shoulder, flashing a million-watt smile. She was easily the prettiest of all of us, with her glittering eyes, long swan neck and graceful movements, like a ballerina.

“Hey there, Val.”

I smiled back at her, shimmying behind her to move to the other side of the dressing room’s narrow hallway.

Val. Right, that was what I was called now. Val. Short for Valerie, for Valentine, or maybe just for Val, I hadn’t decided yet. Whatever it was, when I decided I was really gonna stay in New York and as far away from Hackensack as possible, it felt appropriate to give myself a new name.

And part of that new identity was to stay a blonde, as I realized the color was becoming too dull in a nearby mirror. I ran my fingers through my hair, forgetting I was holding my cigarette, dropping ashes on my head before it jumped away and onto the floor. Before I could even bend over and pick it up, a couple rookie goody girls hurried in and stomped on it, almost stepping on my hand.

“Watch out!”

“What’re you doing on the floor anyways?”

Their heels destroyed the cigarette, reducing it to ashes and crumpled paper.

“You owe me a cigarette,” I grumbled at the new girls. I didn’t know their names, and they probably didn’t know mine. Every three months or so there was a changing of the guard, and a batch of fresh meat to replace the old. Only three or so were older than a year, and that included me. Me, I had had this job for about two years, give or take. In comparison, I was practically a veteran.

A goody girl’s job is not particularly demanding: you just wander around with your tray of treats, waiting for someone to call you over for a purchase. Most of the time, people knew the price of the goods already; some, the famous or rich ones, would put the bill to their name, and eventually pay it directly to whoever it was that supplied us. I’m not gonna pretend I had any deep knowledge of how it worked, but as far as mule work was concerned, it wasn’t bad. Biggest downside, beyond the wandering hands of customers, was the pay: barely enough to make a living, paid every Monday morning, meant to last you a week. Thing is, for most goody girls, this was just a side hustle. They had other jobs, usually, and better paying. I had only that measly wage to pay for meals; my other job was solely to pay for the ghastly room back at Hotel Broslin.

“Anyone got a cig?” I asked, pushing my pin curls away from my face.

When I had first arrived in New York, I had to stay over at churches a few times, to have somewhere to sleep a bit before the job hunt continued. Eventually, luck would have it that I found a bar in Hell’s Kitchen that would not pay me immediately, but that at least would give me a place to stay till I found somewhere else. There, in the little crummy hotel beside the corner bar, I lived next door to the scum of the Earth: junkies and hopheads, cripples and veterans, washed-up failed artists, and a wide assortment of whores, like big-city versions of Dee and the girls of Hackensack. They worked where they lived, to my dismay. Not that my own living situation was particularly better. It was always messy, dirty, with magazines and newspapers and underwear and makeup and all sorts of junk left around. I did my best to tidy up every Thursday or so, but it never lasted. No wonder I was rarely there. It was only marginally better than sleeping in the bathroom stalls at the Playhouse.

“Hey!” I turned around and raised my voice. “Does anyone have a goddamn cigarette?”

Working at the Playhouse is better than most bars, or so I’ve heard from the other employees. It was a rather notorious nightclub in Manhattan at the time, one of the best, the kinda places where you could rub elbows with celebrities. By that time, I already recognized several usual customers; big names, the types that were surrounded by groupies, but also smaller-scale ones, the local heavy-hitters, the names on the marquees on Broadway. The people I envied the most. They dripped glamour, strutting through the front doors, wearing the latest designer fashion, glitter all over their faces, flashing bright smiles and fat wads of cash. They were showgirls, big-name groupies, models, muses, all of them living in close proximity to the stars. Back when I had taken the job, I had thought it would bring me closer to them. But, being quite honest, after all this time, it only made me notice even more just how worlds apart we really were. After all, the clubbers always seemed to have so much fun. Even if they weren’t, they certainly looked like it. Me, I was working, and this was the best chance I got at meeting someone who might just pluck me out of obscurity. That job was my life. It was my hope.

Two years later, and it was as if I had popped out of my mother’s womb fully formed and wearing the sparkly halter top and hot pants uniform, balancing the tray on the tip of my fingers. At the end of the shift, a glamorous dead-end job is still a dead-end job.

“Hey, baby,” said one of Roy’s friends, pulling me closer by the strap of my tray. Roy was one of those regulars I already knew to avoid. This guy, though, I didn’t have quite figured out yet. “What’d you got for me today?”

“The menu doesn’t change,” I said with a little shrug. Jess had told me I had to stop being so cold to the patrons. It was easier said than done when most of the time they seemed less interested in what they could buy and more interested in what they could get. “Ludes, grams, pills, angel dust… Whatever you like, I got it.”

“I can see that,” he grinned, pushing his crotch against my thigh. I went into autopilot, giving him the same old poker-faced, closed-mouth smile I had down to an art. “What do you recommend?”

“It depends on what you’re in the mood for,” I said, looking down at the cellophane bags in my tray, avoiding his stare. “What mood you’re chasing.”

“I want a nice high,” he said, and the hand he had safely placed on the strip of skin between my shorts and my top went down, down to grab my ass.

I grit my teeth, my smile faltering, hoping he didn’t notice. “Speed’s the thing,” I said, quickly selecting a bag.

“Is it good?”

“Oh, yes, it’s very good.”

“If I buy a couple,” he said, squeezing harder. “Would you take it with me?”

“Well, I’m on the job—”

“Don’t worry about that, pretty,” he insisted, taking out a few dollars. “I can make it up for you.”

“Thank you, mister, for your interest,” I said, grinning wider, feeling the strain on my cheeks, and finally trying to pull myself away. “But I’m afraid I can’t—”

“Why not?” he said, pulling me back in. “Just a taste, what’s so wrong with that?”

“I’ve already told you, I’m on the job—”

“Don’t be such a stuck-up, it’ll only be a few minutes,” he said, losing his smile. “You’ll have fun—”

“I’m sure I will,” I nodded, and I broke away from him. “But I’m afraid I can’t, not during work hours—”

“You lying bitch,” he called, raising his voice while I scurried away. “You fucking tease!”

I exhaled, wondering if Jess could hear him, whether I would have to go through another of her lectures. Easy for her to boss the rest of us around, when she wasn’t the one on the dance floor, getting felt up and shouted vulgarities at.

“God, Val, what did you tell him to get him all worked up?” Suzy asked me with a frown. Her tray was almost empty already.

“I didn’t tell him anything,” I replied. “Though I should have…”

“Don’t give me that shit. You should be used to it by now,” she huffed. “Did you at least get a sale?”

“How could I, with his hand down my pants?” I said. “Besides, what do you even care? You just want me to deal with the worst.”

“It’s not my fault they seek you out,” she said, raising her nose up high, plastering the smile back to her face and going towards a group that was calling her. Suzy always got the nicer customers, the ones that would tip the best and ask about her family’s health. Nobody gave a shit about how I was doing. If I was lucky, they just paid me for the dope and went on their merry way.

After wandering around for a while, making myself available, I managed to make a few sales to some models who were celebrating a birthday. Out the corner of my eye I saw one of the freshly hired goody girls, looking uncomfortable, sitting on the knee of Roy’s handsy friend, firmly restrained by his arm around her waist, forcing a smile as he said something in her ear.

If it had been up to me, the guy could have already said goodbye to his hand.

A couple hours passed. The Playhouse became more crowded, the music louder, the lights brighter. The nightclub operated between six in the afternoon to six in the morning, unless there was a particular holiday being celebrated or the place booked up for some rich patron’s party. Around eleven to one was when it was the most packed. We had around three or four birthdays, which meant some nice big groups, all wanting an extra something to make the most of the night. The grams were the best-sellers, along with the ludes –or the ‘biscuits’, funnily enough, as some people had called them when asking me for it. The dance floor was where people chased the high, and on the seats around it was where they would drink, make deals, make up, make out, do whatever they felt comfortable with doing in public, all peppered with a few downers. The mezzanine I tried to avoid, as well as the basement, where the private parties were had. I had only been down there a few times in my two years working the Playhouse, but the stories I heard weren’t too pretty. Most people just came for a good time, though, so I couldn’t really blame them, I suppose. Everyone’s got their own definition of a good time, after all.

I looked back down at the tray. The cellophane bags shimmered and glowed under the colorful lights of the dance floor. I picked one and pocketed it, knowing I was shielded from Jess and the other goody girl snitches, among all the patrons dancing and having fun. Even as an employee, one could manage to have a good time at the Playhouse if you knew how.

I gulped some ludes, and wished I had something to down them with. As a goody girl, drugs were both your business and your helpers. Taking too many got you a paycheck cut and a scolding, but if you could get away with it, it was really worth it. Apart from feeling closer to my Cesar there, that might have been part of the reason why I stayed so long at my job at the Playhouse. Where else would I get that sort of perks?

Despite everything, that job was the highlight of my day. The rest of the day I was either working the corner bar or just killing time, walking around the city, window shopping and people watching, day dreaming and making up scenarios in my mind of what I’d do once I managed to settle down. It had been quite a few years since I had arrived in New York, but to me my situation was still temporary. It had to be. There had to be something better than what I had –and I was getting tired of being patient.

Laurie laughed out loud, loud enough for me to hear above the thumping disco music. She was stroking the blond curls of a handsome young sports star that had come for a bachelor party. I stared at them out the corner of my eye. I knew why Laurie did that –how she made her extra money. There were so many regulars there making out, dancing close to their partners, barely waiting to get to the mezzanine where other patrons were just straight-up fucking, openly and without any shame. At first, I had told myself I had no right to judge others. Then, after a while of working here, I had to admit to myself that it bothered me –it really did. These customers, and these employees, the other goody girls and the busboys who worked as waiters, they all hooked up with whoever, without even knowing their names. From where I was standing, I could see Laurie’s little golden cross hanging from a chain on her neck. It was almost funny: surely her mother wouldn’t like a nice Christian girl like Laurie to get into these kinds of situations. And I had a feeling that no guy would really date someone like Laurie, behaving like some piece of cheap goods, if she kept that up.

I know how that sounds. I had been called a prude more times than I can count. It’s not that I don’t like sex (Cesar knew I had no hang-ups regarding that), it’s just that I just can’t understand why someone would willingly do it with someone they knew nothing about. Where was the actual love? Did these people really think that little about their futures, about what others would say about them, having sex with a whole bunch of people at once? Did not one of them wish they had a steady partner, someone they cared enough about to want to remain faithful? I imagined it must become pretty lonely after a while, jumping from bed to bed with someone new each time. You never really connect with someone. It’s just like a game they played to pass the time.

I made my way to the bar, needing a drink. Even in my own thoughts I was sounding like my mother.

Regardless of the open display of debauchery at the Playhouse, I much preferred to be there than anywhere else. Anywhere but Hotel Broslin. Any day now, I told myself, any day now I would have the chance to move out of Hell’s Kitchen and have a better spot to lay my head. A few months ago, I had finally told Cesar my living state, after a while of refusing to grovel for his pity, hoping he would do something about it –welcome me in his home, share his space, at the very least rent me a room at some ritzy hotel where I could feel comfortable. But he didn’t even seem to listen to me. Maybe I just wasn’t clear enough, maybe I didn’t fully convey what the situation was. There were cracks on the dirty white paint that covered the walls and the moldings of the musty little room, as if the whole place was gonna come crumbling down. The walls of the tiny shared bathroom were covered in rotting mold. There was a bricked and blocked fireplace, dooming us to chronic colds during the winter, since the damn little window was broken and nobody did anything to fix it. You could barely own anything, since the tenants lived by the concept of what’s-yours-is-mine, so any time I had anything of value, next day it would go missing. Arguing with them would inevitably end with petty revenge gestures, like even more theft, at best, and full-on aggravated assault at worst. And the days went on and on, and they don’t end. I got to looking forward to the occasional fights breaking out at the bar. At least that gave life some excitement.

I had to fall in love, I had told myself back then, sitting on the steps of the building and watching the old women smoking and watching their kids. I had to think about someone else, so I could stop feeling sorry for myself. If I fell in love with someone, I reasoned, then that might give me a chance to get away from that shithole.

I could picture it oh so clearly. I’d stumble on the street with a handsome accountant, or a desk jockey would accidentally drop his coffee on me during his lunch break, and he’d kindly offer to buy me a meal and a new shirt as an apology. We would make small talk, and he’d tell me all about his humdrum life, and how disappointed he was with modern dating, and how much he just wanted to settle down and find a nice girl he could care for. I would make up some story so he would think I was just another small-town girl in a big pond, or however the saying went. Then, he would give me his phone number and we would fix to meet again. We would go dancing, and he’d pay for my drink. We would have dinner, and I’d laugh at his jokes. He’d kiss my cheek and we would make plans to meet again soon. We would have our first kiss on the little bridge over the stream at Central Park. We would walk hand in hand, my head on his shoulder, and we would talk and talk till night came. He would be good looking, but not too much so other girls would try to take a bite at him. He would be nice, but not a pushover. He’d be protective and a bit on the jealous side, which would mean that he truly loved me. He would never ask about my life back at Hackensack. If he wanted to, I’d never ask him about his life before we met. Of course, I would have loved to meet his parents, maybe have Christmas and Thanksgiving at their place. But it wasn’t necessary. I just needed him, whoever he was. These fantasies kept me sane.

Jack was the closest thing I had available, back then –so I clinged to him like he was my lifeline. We met once I finally had saved up some money for myself, and I decided I would celebrate by visiting Coney Island, which I had been wanting to do for a really long time. I had gone to an amusement park back once, when I was barely more than a baby, before Bri had been born. I don’t have any memory of it, but we had a couple photos at home that proved it had happened. Anyways –I had to choose carefully which rides I would go on at the Astroland amusement park, since I obviously didn’t have enough money to try them all. And, out of all of them, the one which seemed like I would get the most out of my couple of bucks was the bumper cars.

There, I literally bumped into him. He was this tall, scraggly kid around my age, who kept crashing me and pushing me around. Once I realized it was definitely not an accident or at random, I pushed back –and Jack seemed to find that pretty fun –so we spent a good while chasing the other among the crowd, bumping the other and laughing and flipping the other off. When he was told he had to leave, I got off as well, and followed him around for a while. Turned out he was a runaway like me, and made some money of his own by playing guitar and singing in a street corner. I liked him well enough: he wasn’t very handsome, but he was fun enough to hang around with, and he liked me back. I’m not an idiot, though. I knew he didn’t really just like me as a friend, and on some level, I knew it would do me well to give in to his flirting… But I just wasn’t sure he was the sort of guy I wanted to commit to. Jack had no long-term plans, no steady job, and it seemed to be pretty clear he just wanted me as a quick one-time fling. Me, I never believed in random hookups and one-night stands, unlike everyone else around me. Still, I held some hope that Jack wouldn’t be like that, and that he would understand that what I wanted was real love. So I humored him, and went on dates with him, and tried to convince myself that he was actually a pretty sweet guy, and that he cared for me. I didn’t want to call him my boyfriend, though. I made a huge effort to fall in love with him, but until it actually worked, I didn’t want to give either of us false hope. Not like he cared. All he was really interested in was making out in the back row of the movie theater, taking advantage of the fact that I felt devastatingly lonely. But we never went any further than that. All over-the-clothes stuff: the one time Jack got a bit too bold, and tried to get his hand under my skirt, after I had clearly told him not to try any shit like that, I pulled out my switchblade and chopped one of his fingers off as a warning. He screamed, and panicked, and ran away, and didn’t want to see me for a whole week. Next Monday he showed up at our usual spot, and we went to watch The Texas Chainsaw Massacre .

I thought Jack was pretty lonely, too. It had given me some hope: a guy must either like you a lot or be, indeed, pretty fucking lonely to keep going out on dates with a girl who hacked a finger off his hand.

It had been a long time since I last saw Jack, I thought, back to the present, as I downed my rum and coke. As far as I knew, he could very well still be cawing and howling for pennies in some street corner. A part of me was still curious to know whether we could have had something real, beyond just some teenage canoodling. I knew I had been willing to give him a chance. But it was stupid to keep my mind in the past. What had happened happened, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

“Would you look at that. Kenny and Leanne are making quite a scene…”

It appeared like Jamie had thought the same as I had, flanked by Ernie and Colin, as usual. The three of them were busboys, a pretty fancy title for the male waiters at the Playhouse. Most of them were gay, young, handsome and shrewd, and apart from their official jobs they also worked as either secret lovers of closeted celebrities, or boy toys of unhappily married rich women. He made a gesture to the bartender, and soon enough they were all having quick tequila shots.

“Let them have their fun,” Colin said. “I heard Leanne just had an abortion.”

“Did she, now?” Jamie said with a snort.

“Yeah, let’s just hope she doesn’t start leaking blood all over the dance floor.”

“Which one is it?” Ernie asked. “Her third one already?”

“Now I’m no doctor,” Colin said, raising his eyebrows. “But I don’t think her innards must be in good shape after all that scrambling around.”

“Come on, give us your professional opinion, mama,” Jamie said to me with a smile, leaning against the bar. “You ever had an abortion, Val?”

I made a gesture to the bartender for another rum and coke. No more than three –otherwise my pay would really feel it. “No, not as of yet.”

“Would you?” Colin asked me. “Or would you keep it?”

“I don’t know,” I huffed, tossing them each a little packet of ludes. The bartender knew by this point not to tell, and so it was a good spot to do business among employees. “It depends on whether their father wanted to raise the baby with me.”

“Oh, so you think of yourself as a family woman, Val?”

The three of them laughed.

“Hey, you’re sort of a film buff,” Ernie said, turning to face me. “Aren’t you, Val?”

“Depends on the sort of film,” I replied.

“You seen the latest Bond flick?”

“No, hadn’t had the time,” I lied.

“Pity. Well, me and the girls went to watch it last Friday,” Jamie began explaining. “And it’s, you know, what you’d come to expect—”

“But we did have so much fun…!” Ernie said.

“Yeah—”

“I mean, it was better than the previous one,” Jamie said.

“Roger Moore looks much better here, to boot,” Colin added.

“I really liked Live And Let Live ,” Ernie butted in. “I thought he looked his best there. You seen that one, Val?”

I shook my head, giving in and smiling a bit. They had noticed me being rather down lately, and even though they could get on my nerves from time to time, I was thankful for their efforts to distract me, at least for a few minutes.

“ Golden Gun was better, though,” Colin said with a smirk. “Christopher Lee… Good God, he could give Moore a run for his money.”

“Yes, but you know, it gets a bit tiresome after a while, all these movies. Bondy Goes To Africa , Bondy Goes To Russia , Bondy Does Debbie , Bondy’s Family Reunion , you know, it’s –it’s just too much,” Jamie said. “One of these days they’re gonna send him to space and fight aliens for queen and country.”

“Oh, I’d love that,” Colin admitted.

“They would do it. I don’t know how anyone can take that man seriously, he’s a clown.”

“A scrumptious clown,” Colin pointed out.

“A sharp-dressed clown—” Ernie said dreamily.

“—Stays a clown regardless,” Jamie insisted. “It’s a lot, I can’t keep up, it’s too much for me. You know I’m slow. Give me simple pleasures.”

“If clowns looked like that,” Ernie sighed. “You know I’d run away with the circus in a heartbeat.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Jamie said, waving at Elliot, one of the patrons I knew he liked the least, and shoving the tray in Ernie’s hands. “Your turn on the trapeze, honey.”

Cesar never took me to the movies. We didn’t really go anywhere. I had suggested going to the cinema many times, but he always said he’d rather do something else. Me and Jack, we did use to mostly watch horror movies, like those I managed to sneak in on theaters back in Jersey, the ones I rarely got to catch on TV –my parents never allowed me to stay up late to watch a scary movie. I also had the chance to finally watch the Marilyn Monroe movies that TV wouldn’t play, especially Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and The Prince And The Showgirl , my favorite one of hers. I hated The Seven Year Itch , though, despite how striking Marilyn looks in it. Got to say, her movies are much tamer than what I had expected, especially thinking about what my mother often said about her. Jack always said he wouldn’t even think of going to see these chick flicks if it wasn’t for me. I like to think that, deep down, he found them as fun as I did.

“You just got to watch it, Val,” Ernie said, giving me a hand squeeze. “There was this one guy with metal teeth, fighting sharks—”

“Duty calls,” Jamie said, giving Ernie a little kick in the butt. “Get moving!”

“Would you give it to Mr Bond, James Bond, Val?” Colin asked me.

I’d only watched one of the Bond movies, so I knew I wasn’t particularly wild about Roger Moore. “… I do like a man who can make me laugh.”

Needing a stronger pick-me-up, and some stability to do it without dropping the precious grams, I went backstage for a moment. I saw Gin rubbing the shoulders of a sobbing newbie, a curly-haired, freckled teen about my age, with a red slap-mark on her cheek. Another of the many girls that come to New York, bask in the lights, and get lost in the dark. I know, because I’ve seen them, holding these types of temporary jobs at the Playhouse. Me, I was with Cesar; that helped me not to get kicked out. Without him, I would have become just like them.

The Sunday shift was done, my tray had been returned to Jess, and I changed back into my civilian clothes. It was time to ring Cesar’s bell. He had his office on the third floor, above the club’s mezzanine. He had these big one-way windows from which he could oversee everything that went on down, like a warden at the grooviest jail imaginable. And his office was just like an extension of him: dark and moody, but tasteful and rich. Black wood walls, big silver mirrors, dead animal rugs, and a few stuffed parrots thrown in for good measure, all which I had affectionately nicknamed. And, on the tiger-print chair behind a massive old desk, you could find Cesar himself, on a good day. Most days I wasn’t so lucky.

“Hey,” I called his secretary who guarded the big double-doors to his office. She was this skinny, mousy lady whose name I always forgot. “Is he in?”

“Just missed it, blondie,” she said, without looking up from her thick Russian novel. “He just left.”

Again. Missed it again. It just couldn’t be, I thought. Since the secretary wasn’t very interested in my snooping, I pressed my ear against the office doors, and listened carefully. He usually liked to play music while he worked on whatever he worked, as one of the owners of the place. But it was dead silent on the other side.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” the secretary asked me.

“You’re gonna wreck your eyesight with those bricks, y’know.”

“Yeah, you just worry about the neon lights below, why don’t you,” she grumbled, licking a finger and passing a page.

I huffed and leaned against the iron-wrought stair railing, counting my change down to the pennies. Barely enough for a taxi. And I was starving…

Luckily, I was always great at improvising.

“Ricky, sweetface!” I called the valet, with a big friendly grin, once I got back down to the parking lot, hopping my way over the concrete ramp to where he was standing. When I finished my shift early, I could share a smoking break with him, watching the rich folks coming out and climbing into long, shiny, expensive cars. I so wished I had a car of my own, my own freedom to go anywhere I wanted.

“Oh, no—”

“Hey, why the long face? Are you not happy to see me?”

“Listen, Val, you’re pushing your luck…” he said, stepping back. “And I’m not gonna keep putting my neck in the line for your little joyrides.”

I raised my eyebrows. “And I was just coming here to say hello to you… Golly, I didn’t know that was how you really felt about me.”

Ricky sighed. I sniffed, wondering if I should deploy the waterworks so early in the conversation, or if it would be a better bet to just play it safe with the usual.

“I like you, Val, it’s just that…” Ricky just stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’ve already got a mean big cut in my pay because of last time’s accident, and… You know, I can’t afford to lose this job.”

“Who says you’re gonna?”

“Who do you think they’re gonna blame, if they find another car’s been missing?”

“Don’t they got security ‘round here?”

Ricky laughed. “You think that you’d be able to keep it up as you’ve been doing, if there was any security ‘round here?”

I shrugged. “They can only blame me.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve told my boss,” he grumbled, looking away. “And he’s not buying it, believe it or not.”

I grit my teeth: I’d wish it didn’t come to this, but his sympathy had dried out and it seemed it was the only thing that would make him give up the keys. I fumbled in the tiny pocket of my jean shorts and fished out a purple cellophane bag, my last one. At the sound of it Ricky immediately perked up.

“You think your boss would understand, if you shared a treat with him?”

He didn’t say yes right away, like he usually did. Maybe Ricky really did feel that strongly about his crappy valet job. In the end, though, he couldn’t refuse me. He huffed but relented, and grabbed the four-gram bag, and tossed me a ring of keys he selected at random.

“Hey, I wanna pick the one!”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Val,” he replied, opening the bag, licking the tip of his finger and giving it a taste. “And you gotta bring it back before two.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know—”

“And you better not get in any trouble, young lady.”

What a fucking killjoy. I kindly smuggled him some, and that was how he treated me? As if I was some sort of idiot?

“Not a scratch,” I smiled. “Thanks, Ricky dear.”

I had my eyes set on a beautiful blue Eldorado, but the keys ended up belonging to a black Cadillac Fleetwood. Good enough. I got in, felt the shape and give of the wheel, got comfortable in the driver’s seat, adjusted the rearview mirror to my height, and smiled at my little pleased reflection. Once that was done with, I raided the glovebox, where I always found either chewing gum or a few bucks I could pocket. This time, the loot was a half-finished packet of Chiclets, fourteen bucks with sixty-five cents, and a beautiful little collection of tapes. Half of them, I didn’t know, but I did recognize a few names.

“ Dreamboat Annie ,” I read out loud with a smile, having made my choice. “Isn’t that a lovely surprise.”

One of the good things I had discovered in New York was the music: back in Hackensack, my music tastes were dictated either by Heath or by the radio we had at home. Back home, at the mall, I would look at the record sleeves and wonder what they sounded like, sometimes listening to a couple if the clerk felt like allowing it. Now, I could pay my own concert tickets, and expand my musical palate a lot more, picking what I wanted to listen to, finding out about great new bands –even if I always ended up going to these gigs on my own. At the Playhouse, of course, there was a constant stream of the latest top-charting dancing music. Out of it, there were buskers like Jack singing in the street, and radio being played constantly in hotels and apartments, and nobody really cared if you or others complained about the noise. It was a lot –very loud, all the time –but every once in a while you found little gems, like a good tape of music in the car you were going to take for a spin.

I popped a square of gum in my mouth, checked the gas, and drove the Cadillac out the parking lot. As soon as I hit the streets, I started the music and turned it all the way up.

“ Cold late night, so long ago, ” I hummed along, tapping my hand on the steering wheel. “ When I was not so strong, you know— ”

Downtown was always a bit less busy around that hour. That allowed me to get out of Manhattan and away from the nightlife bustle, beyond the bridges and the tunnels and onto the quieter areas. I stepped on the gas. The humming of the Cadillac’s engine became a roar.

I wanted, so badly, to have a car of my own. Preferably a brand-new one I could put miles and miles in, memories and adventures and that could feel mine. You got a car of your own, and you can go anywhere, do anything you want to do. You could do anything and, at the first sign of things going south, you could escape somewhere new. And, if life got you down, if the routine was draining the life out of you, you could take a trip far away and have a nice change of pace. Sometimes I fantasized about it, during my daydreams: I’d hotwire a nice sturdy ride, take all my money, leave New York and go west, in search of better fortune. But then the limits of my imagination caught up with me, and I remembered that I didn’t know how to do much of anything, and that a successful life in New York had been just as much a pie-in-the-sky pipe dream as any wish of finding anything on the opposite coast. Besides, I knew I didn’t want to go through it all again on my own. If I was gonna leave everything behind, at the very least I wanted someone else to leave everything else behind with. Making new friends had always been difficult; finding someone I could really trust almost always felt like a matter of sheer luck.

And, besides, I had the strong suspicion Cesar wouldn’t leave everything for me.

A new song began. I went slow for a while at first, as slow as I could without going below the limit, just to make sure I found the right, perfect moment in which the green lights lined up, and I could race through the streets, for as long as possible. If I could run at once without braking, going faster and faster and catching, out the corner of my eye, that little needle moving right on the dashboard, without losing the beat on the stereo, pressing my heel harder against the accelerator, feeling the rumbling of the engine strain –I could reach an exhilaration so real, so pure, no coke rush had managed to replicate yet.

It was a sense of true freedom, only comparable to that long breath of relief I gave after killing Heath, back at Hackensack.

“ But I go crazy on you… Crazy on you, ” I sang at the top of my lungs, the wind in my hair, my heart beating faster. “ Let me go crazy, crazy on you, oh— ”

Every now and then, I gave in to my curiosity and counted how long it had been since I last spent any time with Cesar. It was always far too long, especially with how slowly time passed between my work shifts. And I would get stupidly scared, and spiral down a rabbit hole of fears about him not loving me anymore. On the empty streets by the docks, going south along the Hudson, I never had to think about that. There was never any fear for me behind a steering wheel.

It had been eighteen days since we last had a date. Eighteen days without seeing him at all.

I dug my heel in. The car wasn’t used to these speeds: it shook and rumbled my seat, and I rocked my head, adrenaline pumping faster, my heart climbing up my throat. The flash of a red light quickly trailed over the windshield. It was a tiny distraction –I didn’t let it bother me. The green lights turned red, one by one, warning me that the fun was running out. I still had plenty gas. I grit my teeth and told myself that I could stop whenever I wanted to, and that if I wanted to keep going, I might just do that. Depending on where I drove, it could take up to half an hour, sometimes even longer, before I got a patrol blaring behind me. Guess they had bigger fish to fry.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten –taking in a deep breath –focusing on the speed and the metallic rumble in my palms. The adrenaline was pumping –the engine was going higher –and the music was louder, sharper, becoming louder than my thoughts…

The sirens were louder, though. Eventually they caught up with me, like they always did. I played a bit, stopping and going when the cop got too close, then stopping and going again, just to mess with them. Finally, the guy got to the Cadillac window, knocked on it, and tried to talk to me. I shrugged. The music was still too loud for me to listen to him anyways. He knocked louder on the window, losing his patience. I rolled it down with a sigh. Those were the rules of the game. Once the cops got a real look at me, the fun was over.

I got out, he sat me in the back of his car, and drove us off to the station.

“Hey, Val.”

“Hey, Jimmy,” I greeted the man at the reception.

“Got caught again?” he said, looking up from his crosswords and clicking his tongue. “Better luck next time.”

“Aren’t you a joker,” I grumbled as I was dragged into the deputy’s little office. “You know,” I said, pulling at the cop’s shirt collar. “You should really have some magazines around—”

“You think?” the guy sighed. I nodded, still chewing my gum. “Thanks for the suggestion. Did you find your license?”

I shut my eyes, tilted my head back, and thought for a minute. “Oh, right. It’s in the pocket of my other jacket…”

“You don’t say—”

“Would you look at the hour,” I exclaimed, turning to the clock on the wall. “I think it’s time I make that phone call I’m entitled to by law.”

The cop sighed again, but let go of my arm. I blew him a little kiss, sat on his desk and picked up the phone, quickly punching in the number. Meanwhile, he watched me, leaning against the doorframe, smoking his cigarette and probably wondering why he didn’t get any more exciting cases than my silly little speeding incidents. They all knew by that point that I was completely harmless, just another kid with a taste for speed, so they didn’t worry much about me. Not that they would let me scot-free without paying the fine, it goes without saying. Thankfully, I had a loving benefactor who had my bail covered.

Silence on the wire. I took a deep breath, drumming my chipped red nails against the desk, wondering if I had maybe caught him while in the bathroom. Wouldn’t that be unfortunate. I let it ring for a little while longer, then hang up, and dialed the same number, chewing faster on the gum that had already become rather flavorless.

“I never noticed it before,” I said to the cop, pointing at a plushie that was haphazardly sat on top of a file cabinet beside the desk. “But what’s the teddy bear for?”

The cop looked up at me. “For children who’ve been in traumatic situations. It helps them open up.”

I picked it up with my free hand, and gave it a hug. It was pretty battered and worn down. Still, it felt comforting to hold something soft for a while. I pressed the side of my face against the phone, as hard as I could, until all I could hear was the beeping of the machine.

“Please, please, please…”

I had to be patient. Cesar had always replied before, no matter how long I had to wait. He wouldn’t let me down.

He knew why I did these sorts of things. I smiled to myself, holding the teddy a little tighter. Cesar was surely playing with me, like I did with him.

He wouldn’t leave me hanging like that. Not him.

Once upon a time, in the winter of nineteen-seventy-four, Jack and I had arranged to go to a late-night showing of old horror movies. It was an actual reputable movie theater for once, not far from a cute little French restaurant I’ve always wanted to go with him, but that we could never really afford. It was a nicer neighborhood than our usual, so I had made an effort to doll myself up this one time, wearing the best dress I owned, a recent purchase I had found at a thrift shop and which I was really proud to have managed to fit to my body with just a little travel sewing kit. I waited for him in the dark lobby, for as long as I could stay, before I was kicked out by one of the employees who yelled at me for loitering. Some minutes passed, during which I began wondering if I had gotten to the right place and time. And there was this awful freezing wind outside, that made my teeth rattle and my knees shake like Jello…

But I had decided to wait for Jack a little longer. There was no way of knowing what had happened to him, if he was alright, if the cold had made it difficult for him to be there on time… I was making up excuses, of course, but he had been avoiding me so much lately, I just had to tell myself that I needed to wait it out for a little longer. Jack had promised me he would meet me there, and I believed him. I had to believe that he still felt something for me. If Jack had had enough with our chaste relationship, then it would stand to reason that we would have split back when he got a little too bold and I stabbed his hand, right? If he had kept seeing me after that, it surely meant he still felt something for me, right?

Time passed, and my fingers, nose and chin were turning into ice. My coat was barely enough to keep me warm while walking, let alone standing still in the middle of the street. I was thinking about sneaking back inside the lobby, maybe buying something so they wouldn’t kick me out so quickly, when an elegantly-dressed couple came out of the nearby restaurant.

“Ursula, stop acting like a child—”

For a while I couldn’t do anything but just had to stare at her. Ursula was this tall, statuesque lady, with long blond hair, a perfect tan and big blue eyes. She stood perfectly still, all dressed in white, with this white fur coat on her shoulders. The man in a matching white suit, covered in a black overcoat, was yelling something, but the woman was so striking I could barely tear my eyes off her. When I finally did, though, it was when she disappeared inside a taxi, and the man was left with a cigar between his teeth, struggling to light it while chewing on his rage. Didn’t I know what that was like… I took my lighter out my coat pocket and helped him out.

“Thanks,” he grumbled. Then, he shot me a look.

I must have seemed to him like a little bird lost in the cold, skinny-legged and shivering. I lit my own cigarette, truly hoping I didn’t look as upset as I felt. A moment passed. A long black car braked in front of us, obviously the sharp-dressed man’s ride.

“Are you busy right now?” he asked me suddenly.

I blinked back to reality. “Uh… I was about to head home.”

“Got something to do, back home?”

His interest was sorta nice. I simply shrugged. “Not really—”

“Then you’re not busy,” he said, opening the door and climbing inside. He looked back at me and made a gesture. “Get in.”

I frowned. “What? Why?”

“Would you rather do nothing, back home?”

It was a good argument. And I was not looking forward to going back to the hotel and cry myself to sleep after being stood up by Jack. In the end, having no better options, I got in the car.

“I’m warning you now, no funny business,” I told him immediately. I was bored, but I wasn’t stupid. “I got a switchblade, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

He laughed. He had a nice, warm, well-rehearsed laugh. I smiled along, just a bit, and finally got a good look at him. Apart from the nice laugh, he had a nice movie-star smile, polite and charming. When he didn’t smile, though, and glanced at me just out the corner of his eye, that was when he looked like a real dreamboat: with his high cheekbones and his heavy-lidded eyes and perfectly arched brows, and the old-fashioned, carefully neat hair and mustache of a classic heartthrob, a sort of Clark Gable type. It didn’t really give him a youthful air, that must be said, but I sorta liked that in him. He wore that outdatedness better than anyone else I knew before or since.

I had a feeling he was famous. By the look of his tailored clothes and silver watch, he was definitely rich. Still, until I found out his name, it would do me good to pretend I knew who I had the pleasure of sharing a car ride with.

“Where are we going?” I asked him once the car was already crossing the avenue. “A royal ball?”

He smiled. “You’ll see.”

The man in the white suit gazed out the window thoughtfully, apparently no longer interested in me for the moment. I imitated him, pretending I didn’t care much about him either. That was my first time I was in such an expensive-looking car, with custom leather seats and tinted windows. It was nice and warm in there, and quite honestly, if the man just had the driver take us around for a few blocks for the next hour, I would have considered that a successful outing. Especially when, after a few minutes, we went through the streets where my hotel was, and I remembered where I was supposed to go after this little date.

He looked away from the window then, shifting his focus to his cigar, brushing off some nonexistent ashes from his lapels. I saw what he was avoiding. There were the whores, dupers, junkies, all the creatures of the night living on the last link of the food chain, walking the streets, fighting for scraps. It felt sorta sickening to know I was there, too. I thought about how I used to have a home, and a family, and a place where I was comfortable, at the very least. But then I had to come here, so convinced that there were only good things ahead of me, and saw no way out, only night after night of working to make enough to earn some extra money… But now I was looking at it all from the perspective of a rich man’s car. Through the tinted windows, New York looked so different. Faces became blurry, dark, while the lights became dimmer and the colors, no longer blinding, were easier to appreciate. It really was beautiful, in its own special way. At the very least, it wasn’t the bore that was Hackensack. At the very least, the city was alive.

I hadn’t gone to a club before. First of all, I didn’t have the money; second of all, I didn’t have the intel; third of all, and most importantly, I didn’t think I had anything to wear. But if this sharp-dressed man thought otherwise, then I was clearly wrong. And, whatever I had in mind about what a real club was like, it was nothing like what I encountered that night.

We got out of the car and onto what almost seemed like another movie theater entrance, with a long line of people wrapped in their trendy coats, waiting to be let in. He, he was allowed to come in without waiting in line. The doorman smiled at him nervously –oh, he was a famous guy alright –and the man in the white suit gave him some bucks. When the big heavy double doors opened to you, and you went through a dark hall with walls covered in curtains, already hearing the thumping bass notes of the music being played just a few feet ahead, you were coming into another world entirely. He handed his overcoat to another man standing on a booth on the side of the hall, and I followed suit.

It was as if Coney Island had moved upstate. There was music, and lights, and gorgeous people laughing and dancing half-naked and having a good time… Working at the Playhouse was hell, in a certain way, as I learned later on. But damn if it wasn’t a dazzling place. Red, purple and pink dyed everyone’s bodies in the most glamorous way, and everyone was so beautiful it was unreal. And the music, it was unlike anything I had heard before –well, almost. Closest thing I could imagine was the music in the background of the porn movies being played in the theaters around that same block, in the trashiest part of Manhattan, where I had tried for a job selling tickets and candy a couple times. It excited those rich folks, Jamie had told me, to find a little shimmering pearl in that dump. Still, what was sleazy and in bad taste in those movies, there, at the Playhouse, was just another part of the bigger picture. Yeah, it was sleazy, it was more than a little skeevy, how people were just dancing all over each other on the mezzanine, going further than just making out, watching over the regular people on the dance floor; but nobody batted an eye at it, nobody seemed to even care. It was just something in the background, like the potted palm trees and the faux marble columns.

Whatever discomfort I felt at first was soon washed away with the first drink. The man in the white suit asked for two rum and cokes at the bar, and we laughed as we ducked the kicks of the two tipsy women gyrating on the counter.

“Come,” he said, leaning towards me, his mustache tickling my ear, so I could hear him over the music. “Let’s dance.”

I gave him a panicked look –I didn’t know how to dance, especially not how these people did; best I knew what to do was the watusi. Still, I couldn’t say no. I made an effort to remember all the teachings of Dee and the girls at Heath’s house parties, all their tips on how to at least pretend you knew what you were doing, while observing the dancers around us, trying to get an idea of how to copy them. Luckily, the beat was more than clear, serving as a sort of metronome to help me stay in the groove. And, even more luckily, the man in the white suit was a really good dancer, good enough for the both of us.

While we danced, as I let my body move along to the music, swaying and imitating the rest of the dancers, I found myself unable to stop staring at him. Everyone looked gorgeous, everyone was dressed so glamorous, and the place was glittering and enchanting… But none came close to him, dressed so sharp, looking like a million bucks. He shot me a wink every once in a while, making me giggle. What I was wanting most was to move closer to him, lay my head against his shoulder, like the girls used to do with their dance partners at Heath’s house parties. We knew so little about each other, though. As entranced as he had me, I had to remind myself I wasn’t a random floozy desperate to throw herself at the first man who gave her a drop of attention. I had to have some self-respect, for God’s sake, I told myself, looking away, feeling my face becoming warm.

And yet… Just as I thought that, he rested his hand on my hip –and I didn’t hate it –and I smiled to myself, allowing him to pull me just a tiny bit closer, enough so I could feel his breath against my nape again, if only for a second. His hand held me tighter. For a moment I felt a tightness on my chest as well, as if I had trouble breathing. All the while I kept dancing, feeling his body dancing behind mine, with much more planned movements. You don’t get that good at dancing unless you practice. I looked up, over my shoulder, at him, backlit by the colorful shifting lights. I couldn’t quite see his face, but I was sure he was smiling. He already had me clinging to him, after all. If this had all been a game, he had won without me even noticing.

Soon I forgot all about Jack, and the movie date, and the cold of winter. Right then and there, I was dancing with a beautiful man, in a heavenly place, where everyone was happy. And I was happy too.

“You’re good at this,” I told him, leaning towards him with a smile.

“And you’re better than I thought,” he smiled back.

I wondered if I was dreaming. Maybe I had passed out on the street outside the cinema, and I was having one last dream before dying, buried in the snow, like that one tale about the matchstick girl. But everything felt so real. I had another drink, then another, and we kept dancing for hours, and after a certain point I didn’t feel so out of place anymore. Maybe we were all weirdos who had found this one place, where we could be free. There were no places like that in my little suburb in Hackensack, as far as I knew. If my mother even knew what I was doing, the way the man in the white suit was looking at me, as if he wanted to eat me whole…

But I was too happy to feel guilty. It was a delight to be desired. I wouldn’t have stayed with Jack for the last few months if he didn’t give me something back, for all that tongue-kissing and light petting. And this guy, clearly a man of wealth and taste –he saw something in me. He wasn’t like the drunkards at the corner bar next to the hotel. He wasn’t a creep on the street. He didn’t try to cop a feel, he didn’t yell unwelcome catcalls, he kept his distance, but he didn’t stay too far away. For the time being, he just wanted to dance with me. Time would tell if we did anything else, later on.

“Another drink?” he offered me, when we made our way back to the bar.

“I think I’ve had quite enough for the night,” I said, feeling wonderfully exhausted. “Especially with how empty my stomach is…”

He looked me up and down. I wiped my brow, and wondered if I was too sweaty.

“You haven’t had dinner yet, have you?”

I shook my head.

“Well, what would you say if we go back to my place?”

My first instinct was to laugh, probably out of sheer giddiness from all that drinking and dancing. Immediately after, my reaction was to get serious.

“Oh –I’m not that type of girl, mister,” I said.

And yet I second-guessed myself, wondering if it wouldn’t do me good to give in, just this once –to accept his advances, even though I was still, technically, dating Jack… Well, we never actually defined our relationship, though, right? We had kissed, we had gone on some dates, but he never really liked me calling him my ‘boyfriend’… We were, as Heath would have called it, ‘messing around’. Would I be a cheater if I went along with this other man, an obviously better option? Wouldn’t Jack do the exact same thing? Most importantly, was I doing something wrong, if I gave in for such shallow reasons?

“Alright. I can respect that,” the man in the white suit said with a little smile, leaning back in his seat. “What type of girl are you, then?”

“A hungry one.”

“You can get something to eat here,” he said, pointing at the bar. “You can get anything you want, anything you need, at the Playhouse.”

“Even a job?” I asked tentatively.

He laughed. “Even a job.”

The man in the white suit took out a little card from the inner pocket of his jacket, and handed it to me between two manicured fingers. I took it, and pressed it against my cheek. It was still warm.

We sat down at one of the booths around the dancefloor. A very handsome shirtless guy in glittery hot pants approached us, and gave the man in the white suit a smile. He barely seemed to notice I was there. They exchanged a couple words, and in a matter of minutes the Stretch Armstrong lookalike was back with a little dish of deviled quail eggs. I devoured them whole, to the man in the white suit’s amusement.

“Feeling better?”

I nodded. He laughed, snapped his fingers, and soon the dish was refilled –as if by magic. I laughed, wondering if I was high on something.

“Is it so wrong that I don’t know your name?” I asked him with my mouth full. “I’m guessing you’re some sort of big shot celebrity…”

“Not at all,” he said, lighting a new cigar. “I’m the owner of the place, actually.”

“You own this club?”

“Co-own,” he corrected himself. “But yes, everyone here knows me.”

“Everyone except me,” I corrected him.

He chuckled. “You’re right. Name’s Cesar. What’s yours?”

“Val.” It was the nickname Jack had given me. I had only told them I was Valentine, since I didn’t want to give them my first name –just in case he sold me to the cops or something. So, Val it was.

“Short for Valerie?” he asked.

I smiled for a moment, about to say, yeah, whatever. But I thought it would be better to keep him guessing. “… I haven’t decided yet.”

Cesar quirked his eyebrows. “Intriguing. Who are you, apart from Val?”

“I’m a waitress,” I admitted. “But I’m not gonna be that for much longer.”

“Really? You got a better job offer?”

“Let’s say things are looking up,” I said with a little shimmy of my shoulders, waving the little card he had handed me.

Cesar laughed. “You’re probably going to start as a waitress here at the Playhouse, though, realistically speaking.”

“Will I have to wear that uniform?” I asked him, pointing at the guy who had brought me the deviled eggs.

“No,” Cesar said, holding my hand and turning it to point at a girl carrying a little cardboard tray around, like the people who sell candy and cigarettes at old-timey theaters in movies. “That uniform.”

It was sorta revealing, but it showed off the girl’s curves quite well. That was, most likely, its main purpose. “I think it’ll look pretty nice on me.”

“I know it will.”

“Do I have to sign anything?” I asked. “Fill a card with my personal info, and all that stuff?”

“Not at all. It doesn’t matter who you are,” he said, stretching his arms over the sides of the booth. “Who do you want to be?”

I considered his question for a brief moment. “I wanna be like… Like Marilyn Monroe. I want to be wanted, and loved. You knew it when you saw her, that she was something special. She was never super respected by the other big, famous stars… But people, the actual people who saw her and watched her movies and paid attention to her, they always adored her. She was always adored.”

“So, you want to be adored?”

“Yes. More than anything,” I said, bringing my hands together, as if in a prayer. “I want to be loved.”

I had only discovered Marilyn once her death made the news. Up to that point I thought only old and sick people died, not beautiful young starlets like her. I remembered perfectly this color picture of her in a magazine at the dentist, with her blue eyes, a white fur coat, platinum blonde hair perfectly curled in a way that seemed almost natural, and a beauty mark just beside her gorgeous red lips. I had ripped the page from the magazine, and took it home with me. I think that was the first time I truly fell in love.

“After all,” I said, picking some sticky stray hairs off my face. “What else is the purpose of life, but loving?”

Cesar raised his perfectly groomed eyebrows. “You really believe that?”

“Sure!” I replied. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Some people believe life is for living, actually.”

“But just living is such a bore,” I frowned. “Have you ever been kissed, like, a really good kiss? The sort of kiss that knocks the air right out of you?”

He smiled that gentle smile of his. “No, not in a while.”

“Well, that’s the sort of stuff that makes life worth living, I say. Anything can go wrong, you can have a shitty life, but if you got someone back home at the end of the day who can make you feel loved, then…” I smiled back at him. “Then I think that really makes life worth living.”

Cesar gazed at me for a while, all of his focus centered on me. It was as if he was inviting me to fall in love with him.

“You’re something,” he said finally. “You’re really something.”

“I am?”

He smiled and leaned forward, and gave me a little kiss on the forehead. It burned like a cigarette stub. It felt like being marked. I wished it would leave a mark. Then, I would be able to see it every time I looked in the mirror, and remind myself it had all been real.

From there on, with the card he had given me, I was redirected to Jess, the woman in charge of the busboys and the goody girls. She asked me a few questions, to which I lied all my answers, of which she seemed to be fully aware. With the more formal matters out of the way, she told me the work hours, what the pay would be for my first couple months, and then she took me aside and showed me a sample of the tray. Then, it was just a matter of being there on time, and bearing the harassment of a certain type of regular, and staying on Jess’ good side when I accidentally lost a cellophane bag…

“ Who is it? ”

I gasped and left the teddy bear on my lap. “Cesar, sweetface! It’s me—”

“ Val? ” his familiar voice asked. “ Don’t tell me— ”

“Yes, I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a pickle,” I chuckled, twirling the telephone cord around my finger. “Same station as always.”

“ Good Lord, Val… ”

“I’m sorry.”

“ No, you’re not, ” he said. “ Val, right now I’m… God… ”

I kept silent, pushing the chewed gum against the back of my teeth with the tip of my tongue. The cop at the office, still standing by the door, coughed and scratched his stubbly cheek. A telephone ringed somewhere at the station, and someone called for someone else to answer. Some perp behind bars yelled something in a drunken slur. I had spent a couple nights at a police station before, back when I hadn’t met Cesar yet. I wasn’t looking forward to repeating that experience.

“ … I’ll be there in ten, ” he finally said. “ And we’re going to have a serious conversation, you and me. ”

With that, Cesar hung up. I hung up too. Bringing the teddy closer to my chest, sinking my chin on its soft head, I clicked my wedges against the metal legs of the desk. I just had to wait for him to pick me up. He was really angry, angrier than usual. But it was alright, I thought with a smile. At least it had worked. I had managed to get in touch with him, and I was gonna see him again.

I waved at Cesar when I saw him, coming through the doors of the cophouse, but he just glared at me, not even trying to mask how pissed he was. I said hello to him –and he grabbed my arm, pulling me out of the building, out on the grimy streets and into his car.

“Tell me, Val,” Cesar said to me, with a deep sigh. “Are you proud of yourself?”

I crossed my arms. “I was just having a little fun—”

“Is that what you call this desperate plea for attention?”

“What else is there for me to do?” I said, raising my voice. “You’re never at your office when I try to get to you! When was the last time we actually went on a date?”

Cesar just sighed again and rubbed his temples. “It’s only been two weeks—”

“Eighteen days, actually,” I corrected him.

“Oh, so now you’re counting…”

There was a tense silence. Cesar was always annoyed with having to pick me up from the station, for some reason. By this point, I would have assumed he’d take it in stride.

“Only two weeks…” I repeated, clicking my tongue, and turned to look at him. “You really didn’t miss me, huh?”

His expression softened. “Of course I did.” He circled my shoulders with his arm, and planted a kiss on the top of my head. “Of course I do. I love you. Why else would I come and pick you up every single time you pull this nonsense?”

“Then why do we never meet up?” I insisted. “Why do I have to do this, to get a moment alone with you?”

We arrived at his East-side penthouse in a matter of minutes. Cesar’s apartment was like a movie set. With the exception of the bathroom and the kitchen, the whole place was covered with a light purple carpet. It was full of beautiful, extravagant plants, all in gigantic pots that you could stub your toe in if you weren’t careful. There were huge paintings hanging from the tall walls, all with thick elaborate frames. It was such a pity that it was always so dark in there, the curtains permanently drawn over the large windows that overlooked the city. It was much like being in a museum, I guessed: the lamps had sculptures underneath, there were exotic stuffed birds decorating the top surfaces of various cabinets and dressers, and every piece of furniture seemed like a work of art.

The bedroom was the most beautiful room of the penthouse. His king-sized bed rested on a platform, also carpeted, surrounded by a semicircle of wardrobe doors covered in mirrors, flanked by black lacquered side tables; and there were more shiny brass lamps, and an amazing fur bedspread, and inside all those hidden closets there were little lights so he could see which tie he was picking out. It was state-of-the-art, and it was the perfect mix of eccentric and tasteful –or so I had to imagine. I didn’t have much experience with modern, expensive homes, beyond what I saw in décor magazines.

“Have you had dinner yet?” I asked him, taking off my heels. “We could have dinner together.”

Cesar had an enormous kitchen in his penthouse, but it was completely empty. It was the only thing that I honestly truly hated from his place: an empty kitchen was unnatural, unsettling. All the food we had at his apartment was delivered by fine restaurants, but it didn’t change the fact that we never had an actual homecooked meal. Rich people just don’t need that, I assumed.

“I’ll order something from Dorsia,” he said, taking off his jacket and reaching for the phone.

“Alright,” I said quietly, running my hands over the soft fur bedspread, wondering how you washed something like that. You’d have to probably send it to a dry-cleaners. That made me realize that he didn’t have a washing machine in his apartment, either. It truly was just somewhere to sleep, fuck, smoke and drink. I liked Cesar’s penthouse, of course, but it would hardly be somewhere you could call a home.

Once he hung up the phone, he let out a deep breath and laid on his back over the bed, rubbing his eyes. I leaned back against the headboard, feeling pretty hungry already, hoping the delivery was quick.

“You’re not wearing the clothes I got you,” he said rather sadly, glancing up at me. “What was wrong with them?”

I looked down at my outfit –my red sailor shorts and my denim top. “Nothing was wrong… I just feel more comfortable in these,” I answered with a shrug.

Cesar often gave me lots of gifts. A few of our outings recently had been shopping trips, where he took me along with him to Columbus Circle, letting me choose some things too. Most of the time he preferred to pick my clothes himself. When I tried to argue, he said that he knew what fashionable girls wore, and that he had a friend who worked in Paris who told him what the latest trends were, so I should value his opinion. I always ended up letting him –that seemed to make him happy.

“One of the other goody girls, Nancy, has these totally groovy pink sunglasses…” I said, taking the white-framed ones I was wearing, all scratched and smudged, and spinning them in my hand. “I’m thinking that maybe I’m feeling down lately ‘cause of these stupid, blue-tinted glasses I got.”

He chuckled. I always liked to make him laugh.

“I could get you something better than pink sunglasses,” he said, stroking my arm. “I could get you Oscar de la Renta.”

I smiled at him in agreement, though I had no idea what those would look like. It wasn’t like it mattered, anyway. Ever since Cesar started wooing me and giving me things, I had to be creative and find ways to ‘repurpose’ them, shall we say. I couldn’t exactly have them lying around in the room I shared at Hotel Broslin: the couple times I did, they disappeared without a trace the moment I took my eyes off them. For a while, without any place of my own to store his increasingly expensive little tokens of affection, I found myself forced to resell some of these gifts at a pawn shop at Hell’s Kitchen. With the money I got, I bought clothes I would actually wear, and since I had a little extra, I could also pay for my movie theater trips, concert tickets, and eventually my small doll collection –which, thankfully, none of my roommates ever seemed interested in stealing from me. After a while, whatever he gave me and I didn’t quite like (which, truth be told, was a good amount of the clothes he gave me, since apparently the fashionable women in Paris hated miniskirts and t-shirts) I quickly resold. For some time I’d considered storing the gifts in my little rusty locker at the changing room of the Playhouse –until I remembered that I couldn’t quite trust my coworkers to not try and pick the lock. Later on, I discovered that a roof panel of one of the bathroom stalls at the Playhouse could be pushed up and removed, and that it could serve as a pretty good hiding place. For lack of a safe, I kept my gifts and my valuables there, where only I would know where to find them. It was a rather sad thing, of course, that most of Cesar’s presents were too bulky or precious for me to keep; since he didn’t ask about them afterwards, however, I thought that he might suspect, on some level, what I was doing with the stuff. Sometimes I wondered if Cesar knew about it. He rarely mentioned these gifts again –but now that he did, he seemed genuinely disappointed.

One time, I did wear the jewelry he gifted me: a gorgeous golden chain necklace. I got mugged as soon as I set foot on the street. So, it only made sense to make such decisions.

“You know, Sally’s just told us she’s now a live-in girlfriend, meaning, she’s living at her boyfriend’s place,” I said. Her boyfriend once came over to the changing room, and she had us meet him. He was a nerdy type, with thick glasses and a couple nervous ticks. Once both of them were out of sight, Laurie joked that he must be filthy rich for a knockout like Sally to even look his way –and I had to agree. “Isn’t that nice? That way they can keep in touch, maybe even have breakfast together, spend more time in each other’s company—”

“You can be straightforward, Val, and just say what you want.”

“Alright,” I said, getting off my back and standing over him on the bed. “I want to move in with you.” At the very least that way I could put that beautiful kitchen to good use.

Cesar nodded, still smiling, though he didn’t seem very happy.

I pouted. “What? What is it?”

“I don’t know, darling. I think we’re good just as we are.”

That wasn’t the first time I had heard that. Heath and Cesar were like night and day, but still I managed to find ways in which they were exactly alike.

He must have noticed my pouting, because he laughed and stroked my hair.

“You’d get tired of me,” he said. “If you saw me every day.”

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of you.”

Cesar kissed me. I sighed, and kissed him back, finally comforted in his embrace, losing the tension I had been building up during the day.

“But wouldn’t it be great?” I asked him. “If we could go back to each other, by the end of every day?”

Cesar let out a deep sigh. “I wish you understood, Val, my darling… Life is so easy for you. That’s what I like about you. You are who you are, you just… Do what comes naturally,” he said with a chuckle. “Even if what comes naturally is getting a speeding ticket every couple of weeks.”

I giggled. He pinched my chin.

“You don’t know how important you are to me,” he said softly. “How alive you make me feel.”

I stroked his smoothly-shaven cheek, and leaned forward for another kiss. “I wish I could see myself through your eyes.”

Cesar smiled gently, cupping my head in his hands, and turned my face to the mirrors around the bed. I smiled, too. We made a handsome couple. He was a lot more elegant than I was –he fit his surroundings perfectly, as if Cesar himself came included with the penthouse –while I looked more like the sort of girl you’d find walking back from a cheap club in the early hours of the morning –but in the dim light of his bedroom, my badly-chopped, clumsily-bleached hair seemed intentional, almost high-fashion, and my makeup was dramatic enough to sell the illusion that I was some sort of actress, waiting for the next shot.

“I have something for you, Val,” he said, and planted a little kiss on my shoulder. It had turned into a familiar enough sentence for me to know what came next.

“Is it an apology gift?” I joked. “For the eighteen days without a word?”

“Sure,” he laughed, standing up and opening one of the mirrored walls of his wardrobe. “Take it however you’d like.”

I grinned, even though I knew he didn’t like it when I grinned that big. Cesar told me I shouldn’t grin too big and show my teeth –he said I look rather threatening like that. When I smiled with my mouth closed, lips shut, he said, I seemed mysterious and seductive. So that’s what I did. But, looking at his present, I couldn’t really help myself. Even if I didn’t have a chance to keep the gift, the fact that Cesar thought of me at some point during these two weeks without seeing each other, and that he took the trouble to find a present he believed I would like, told me all about how, despite not having the time for me, I was still in his mind.

“Close your eyes,” he told me. “And don’t peek.”

I laughed, and covered my face with one hand. He took the other, running his fingers through my palm, and left it on top of what felt like a cardboard box.

“Can I see?”

“No, not yet,” he said. “I want you to guess.”

The cardboard surface was pulled away, and my hand was left hovering for a moment, before he gently pushed it down a few inches, for it to land on something smooth and silky.

“A scarf?” I suggested.

“No…”

I bit my lower lip, now grabbing the gift with both hands, feeling a sleeve, a line of seams, a fold…

“Oh –a dress!”

I opened my eyes and let out a loud gasp. It was this shimmering silver dress, made out of some unusual metallic fabric. Standing up on the bed, I picked it by the shoulders, taking it out of the box, and pressed it against me, waving the long skirt in the air, marveled at the soft billowing movement it had.

“Cesar, it’s… It’s divine!”

“And it’s the genuine thing,” he commented, showing me the little label on the neck. “It definitely wasn’t cheap.”

I jumped to him, hugging him and pushing him down on the bed, covering his face with kisses.

“Be careful –don’t want to rip it on accident—”

“It’s absolutely gorgeous… I’m gonna care for it with my life.”

Where I would wear it, I wasn’t sure; how I was gonna smuggle it into the bathroom stall at the Playhouse, I knew even less, but I wasn’t gonna worry about that right then. Cesar rarely managed to really get me and what I liked. Anything he gave me was, of course, very much welcome; and, especially when we went out shopping, once in a blue moon, it really made my week to see his glad little smile as I twirled around for him. That didn’t change the fact that I neither had any good excuse to wear these, nor that I didn’t quite feel like myself in these long flowing dresses or high-buttoned blouses. That silver dress was something else. It wasn’t precisely in my wheelhouse either, but it was close enough for me to want to try. Most importantly, I could see myself in it. I could go out to dinner with Cesar in it, look truly head-turning gorgeous, for once. And it was clear that, judging by the way it was wrapped and by how he presented it to me, he did find it to be some special thing. I hugged the dress, feeling the smooth fabric under my fingers, before I handed it back to Cesar for him to fold it back carefully into the box.

The buzzer ringed. The food had arrived. He put on one of his old beloved Tom Jones records while I served portions of Waldorf salad and broiled broccoli into silver dishes, and we sat in the conversation pit in his living room, eating by the small coffee table.

“Cesar… I don’t want you to think I’m not thankful for everything you’ve done for me, because I am,” I said, after a few minutes during which I just stuffed my face with slices of rare Porterhouse steak. “But I’ve been thinking… And I’d like another job.”

“What’s wrong with the Playhouse?”

“Nothing, nothing! It’s just wonderful, working there, it’s just that…” I bit my lip and shrugged. “I’ve been just a waitress for so long, I had hoped I’d be something else by now.”

“Oh… Right,” Cesar said with a smile. “The next Marilyn.”

I let out a little squeal, bouncing on the sofa. “You remembered!”

“Of course I did,” he said, and kissed my temple. “But aren’t you adored enough by now?”

“I am… It’s just that I really wish I could do something else, you know. I just want something more out of life. My mother used to say, ambition can move mountains.”

It wasn’t exactly what she used to say, but it never hurt to appeal to her authority to make a point.

“You think you’re ambitious enough?” he asked me. “It’s a pretty cutthroat industry, my dear.”

“I’m ready,” I said, turning serious for a moment. “For anything.”

He glanced at me and laughed. “So, what’s stopping you, then?”

I looked down at my chipped nail polish. “I’ve been going to auditions for a while now… With no results. Not even one little call. So, I thought, you know, maybe what I need is a little help. Everyone could do with a little help every once in a while, right?”

Cesar nodded. “Aha… What sort of help are you needing?”

“Acting classes, maybe?” I suggested, bringing my knees against my chest. “That could be a good start.”

“I’ll get you some acting classes, then.”

“And an agent?”

He laughed again. “Sure, Val. I know a dozen that would love to work with you.”

“You’re the best there ever was, is and will be,” I declared, giving him a tight hug and a kiss. “You’ll see, I’ll be a star. And you’ll be credited as the brilliant man who gave me my first chance.”

He patted my arm, still chuckling. The music kept playing. I gave him another kiss and sighed, still hugging him. We were so different, Cesar and I. And still, somehow, we made it work.

“Come on. Let’s go dancing,” I said, standing up and doing a twirl. “Let’s dance the night away.”

“I’m tired.”

“Then don’t be,” I shrugged. It wasn’t like he didn’t have ways to shake the exhaustion off. “Where can we go, where we can be seen and envied?”

“Please, darling, not tonight. Tomorrow night, we’ll go anywhere you like.”

I plopped down on the couch, giving a long deep sigh. Cesar circled my legs with his arm and kissed my knee, his own little way of apologizing.

“Then, what’re we gonna do?” I grumbled. “I always want to see you, but you just want to spend the night in. Why can’t we go out, have fun, do stuff?”

“Don’t you work two jobs?” he asked me back. “How come you aren’t all beat by now?”

I shrugged again with a smile. “A waitress’ life is dull, you know… I just want a change of pace.”

“You’re that bored?” Cesar chuckled, resting his chin on my knees. “I think I might have some board games lying around.”

I laughed. “Yes, I’m very much bored. And I don’t know how you’re not bored either! Working all day, with all your business stuff—”

“That business stuff is what keeps the lights on, darling.”

My smile wavered. “Is that really it? Just that you’re tired?”

“I promise you, Val, once this deal I’m making is done with, we will do whatever you want.”

“That’s not what I’m asking… What I wanna know,” I said, leaning forwards, resting my arms on his shoulders. “Do you promise me you won’t get tired of me?”

“How could I be tired of you? The way you always keep me on my toes…”

I didn’t laugh. I just stared at him, waiting for him to answer.

“I’m going to tell you something, Val,” he finally said, holding my hands and pulling me closer. “In my line of work, you’ve got to spend a lot of time worrying. You know, who’s going to swindle you, who you can trust, that sort of stuff. It really drains you. But then I get a moment of peace –and you know the first thing my mind goes to?”

Slowly, a smile returned to my lips. He stroked my cheek with the back of his soft hands.

“It’s you, you and your beautiful, young face. You, fresh and bright and full of promise, you who hasn’t been brought down by the blows of life yet.”

Each time Cesar called me beautiful it was like it was the first time all over again. It always caught me by surprise, making me giggle like a schoolgirl, still finding it hard to believe that someone like him, who surely had met so many stunning actresses and models, somehow saw me as comparable to them. I held his hand, pressing it against my cheek, and kissed his knuckles.

“You say you’re afraid I’m going to get tired of you. You know what I say to that?” he smiled. “I say, I couldn’t quit you even if I wanted to. You’re addictive. You see, Val, that with you… I am a better man. I am what you want me to be, what you wish I was. I am who you see when you look at me.”

I furrowed my brow, not completely sure I followed, before chuckling and having a bite of carrot cake. Cesar seemed happy. That was what mattered.

“Stay over,” he said, after one more kiss, as he embraced me.

I hugged him back. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

We made out for a while. If it had been up to me, we would have kept cuddling right there in the living room –but I guess that, if you got a bedroom as stunning as he did, then it would no sense not to use it. Cesar picked me up –not hard at all for him to do so, with how tall he was –and I squealed and laughed, holding onto the back of his neck, all the way back to the bed.

Back when I had just started working at the Playhouse and learning the ropes, being a goody girl by night and waiting tables at the corner bar by day, I was unusually patient. I knew Cesar was the co-owner of the place, after all, so I told myself I shouldn’t worry too much. When I learned his office was in the same building, I decided to pay him a little visit, and once I was there it really dawned on me just how rich and successful he was. He told me we would go out for dinner that night, and when I told him I had work, he just laughed and told me to wait for him by the Playhouse’s bar around ten. So I did that, and he showed up in his best suit, and he took me out of the dancefloor and into his car, and we went to have an amazing lobster dinner. It was truly out of a dream. I had to keep pinching myself to believe it.

And what I liked the most about Cesar, beyond all the wining and dining, beyond all the gifts that began showing up at the changing room with a white rose and a little card with ‘for Val’ written on it, was how he always kept his distance. It was as if I had forgotten that guys can be able to be decent towards the girls they were interested in. The most he ever did was rest his hand on my hip, or place it gently on my back. Once he kissed my hand before we parted ways, and it was like a romance novel, like I was a princess. This sort of sweet courtship lasted about four whole months. By that point I was already head over heels for him, and absolutely convinced that Cesar was mad about me, too. It was just the sort of love I had been dreaming of, caring and tender, but he always left me wanting more –a deeper kiss, a tighter embrace.

One night, we had drinks and dinner in his office: he told me stories about his childhood, about his mother, about his first job managing the books of a club in Brooklyn, how he met the other owners of the Playhouse, how he amassed his wealth one penny at a time, and so on and so forth. I didn’t care much about any of that, but I liked watching Cesar talk, how his body became animated. I thought that, right there and then, it would be when he would tell me how much he wanted me, how much he loved me: but he didn’t. Instead, he wiped his lips with a napkin and asked me if I wanted to dance. We hadn’t danced together since that first night that he brought me here.

We walked down the stairs, hand in hand, onto the dance floor. I swear I couldn’t look away from him. From all my time watching customers dancing the latest moves to the most popular songs, I already had a better grasp on how to move to the music. And, similarly, I think Cesar knew that I was now much more comfortable with him, comfortable enough for him to hold me closer. When a slower song came on, I had leaned my head against his shoulder, feeling his warmth, the smell of his heady cologne, the silky smoothness of his clothes. Everything about him was enveloping and soft and welcoming, like a cocoon. I was as comfortable as I could ever be.

“ Will I have to wait forever…? ” I remember the singer crooning as I closed my eyes, allowing him to hold me closer. “ Will I have to suffer and cry the whole night through…? ”

Then, Cesar offered to drive me home, like he always did at the end of a date. I always refused, since that would mean telling him where I lived, and even though I knew he would still love me just the same, even if he saw my place at Eighth Avenue and my living conditions, I didn’t want our relationship to be tainted by something as ugly as pity. This time, however, I accepted; I did give him a fake address, but it wasn’t about that –it was just because I wanted to spend a little longer with him, before the spell was broken and I had to return to my dull old life.

It was there when my patience reached its breaking point. While in his car, I had asked him, straight-out, if he loved me. Taken by surprise, Cesar told me that he found me charming, that he had a lot of fun with me. I asked him if that meant that he loved me. He seemed uncomfortable at first, and for a moment I was afraid that I had it wrong, that I had thought I had seen something in him he never really felt. But then, then Cesar brought me closer and he kissed me, a real kiss, and I knew that I had been right all along. I asked him to make the night last a little longer –and he did. We went to his penthouse, which I visited for the first time.

We spent a beautiful night together. I only had Heath to compare it to, to his frantic grabbing and breathing. But Cesar was so, so different. He was gentle and tender, patient and careful, and when he ran his hands over me it was almost with a sense of awe. That was exactly what I had been wanting. It felt perfect. There, lying under the white satin sheets of his bed, I felt I had become perfect. Not a grubby teenage runaway, but the virtuous love of a true gentleman, like the protagonists of the Avon bodice-rippers and Harlequin romance paperbacks I used to skim over at Heath’s house parties and that I borrowed from my coworkers. Like it was the first step towards my happy ending. From then on, there would only be good things in my future, only love and devotion. Because, against all odds, Cesar loved me.

It was like vindication. Proof that it was worth it to wait so long for the right one to come along.

I had smiled to myself, back then, watching Cesar’s relaxed face, lost in dreams of his own, his spotless and somewhat hairy body moving ever so slightly with each breath he took, unbelievably real in front of me. He was at peace, with the trace of a smirk in his lips. Me, I felt about to burst into a joyful explosion of confetti and glitter. I couldn’t stop myself from leaning forward and smooching his head, like Cesar had done with me months ago. I got out of bed, jumping and shaking my arms in excitement, doing a little dance, silently celebrating my triumph. I explored the apartment, searching for something to make breakfast with, finding out that the place was as if he had just moved in. No matter, I had thought, sitting beside him on the bed, watching him sleep for a few minutes more. We’d have breakfast when he woke up. We’d have coffee, and maybe give it another go, and later I’d have a bath in the amazing bathroom of his penthouse and later, later we might have a walk in Central Park if the day was nice, and we’d have our first official kiss as a couple on the little bridge over the stream, and we would walk hand in hand, my head resting on his shoulder, and I’d say something funny and he’d laugh and give me a kiss. And he would never ask me about my life at Hackensack. And he’d fill any awkward silences with his own stories of success and achievements, and all the interesting things he did before meeting me, and all the interesting things we’d do together as a couple. I could picture our entire life together from my little warm spot in his bed. All my wishful fantasies were just a little bit closer to becoming real, close enough for me to reach out and feel them, just as I could feel his soft breathing on my face.

I didn’t want to wake Cesar up, but I couldn’t keep still either. I needed to move, to dance, to jump around, to sing. Finally, after some deliberation, I decided I’d take a quick walk to calm myself down, maybe even buy us some coffee and pastries, and then come back up to his apartment and surprise him with breakfast in bed. So I got dressed, shot him one last smile, and tiptoed my way out of the penthouse.

There was a buzzing feeling in my hands and feet. I smiled at everyone, waved at them like a madwoman, not caring what they thought of me. The world was a beautiful place that morning, and I was excited for what would come. And I was a little kid again, skipping through Central Park. Now that I had a new boyfriend, one that was crazy about me, who loved me just as much as I loved him, it was as if I was on top of the world. New York felt like my very own personal property. I had it all, and what I didn’t have, I’d soon get.

Twirling my switchblade, I could have chopped my fingers right off and still laugh it off like no big deal. Like El Zorro, I carved a little cross, the T for Tiffany, on every tree I saw. There was this one very, very old tree, near the lake by Cherry Hill, where many other couples had carved their initials. I ran the tip of my fingers over the grooves and dents on the wood, feeling the rough bark of the tree and the markings of the love of dozens and dozens of couples over the years. First time I had seen it, I was convinced that eventually me and Jack’s names would end up added to it. Luck had it other way. I spent a moment finding an empty spot on the trunk, and when I found a nice enough one, I carved my T, then a C, then another little cross between the two letters, and finished it off with one big heart around it.

Once I got out of the park, I found a nice place to buy some coffee and grab a bite. I was waiting in line when I caught a glimpse of the clock behind the clerk, and realized I was late for my shift at the bar. For a moment I was worried, but then I thought, I could miss one day at work. Not every day you found yourself such a catch. I wanted to celebrate.

When I left the café with my purchases, I realized I didn’t remember where Cesar’s apartment was. I was so happy, though, I could simply chuckle and told myself I would have many more chances to have breakfast with Cesar, my new boyfriend. Having a bite off the pastry I had chosen, I walked the streets that suddenly didn’t seem so grey and dour anymore –everything was bright in the morning sunshine, stretched in front of me under the big blue sky.

Wandering around in the smitten daze I was, I came across a payphone. I still had some spare change in my pocket. I would have called Cesar, and told him what had happened, just so he wouldn’t worry, just so he wouldn’t think I would love him and leave him, if I knew his number. But we would meet again later that day –so there was no need to waste my pennies on that. Instead, after finishing the pastry and gulping down the coffee, I decided there was a call I needed to make.

In retrospect, I should have thought it over. Normally, I know I would. But I was on cloud nine –nothing could touch me, nothing could hurt me from where I was. At the time, it sounded like a perfectly reasonable thing to do. I pushed a couple quarters in, and dialed the number I still remembered by heart.

“Hi, mom… It’s me, Tiffany,” I said, almost calling myself Val again. “I hope everyone’s doing alright back at home. I know it’s been a while, and that I should have called sooner…”

I laughed, hoping she wouldn’t be too bothered by it. Just then I remembered this one time, a very long time ago, that I heard my mother laughing at something she heard on TV. It almost scared me, how similar my laugh sounded to my mother’s.

“… Anyway, you don’t have to worry about me anymore. I met this guy, Cesar, and he’s my boyfriend now. He’s a dream come true. He really loves me, and he cares for me. He’s a real gentleman… I wish you could meet him.”

A few seconds passed, in which I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Every now and then I had considered calling my mother back home, just to have someone to either complain about some bad luck or to gloat about some little triumph. I had always managed to reign that first impulse. Now that I had something I really, really wanted to tell her about, I had forgotten about everything else I had also been itching to tell her since I ran away to New York.

“I just wanted to tell you that. I’m doing well. I’m happy. And… Well, I… I hope you’re happy for me,” I said, lowering my voice. “I’m sending kisses to you and Bri. And to dad, too.”

I tried to think of something else, but it seemed like that was a good enough way to finish my call. I hung up. And, lighting my first cigarette of the day, I smiled, thinking about how relieved she would be when she learned that I was finally in good hands.

#childs play #tiffany valentine #chucky series #fanfiction

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lovely-echoo · 4 years ago

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Sleepy Bois Inc x FranBow!Reader

In-game AU

Part 1/? Pt.2

Plantonic!SBI x Young!Reader

(10/11 years old)

OneShot/Drabble(?)

Genderneutral reader (they/them) ��

INFO; If you haven't played or seen game play of Fran Bow then you can skip this if you'd like. If you don't care then go ahead.

Summary; Basically if you've seen/played the game you should know how this goes, you take place of Fran. So you go/went through the same things she did and you still have Mr. Midnight. This takes place while Fran is still in the mental hospital and then got teleported near the SBI.

Honestly I kept thinking about this but was afraid to request it to anyone so I'm doing it my myself-

If I get any info wrong, I'm sorry! I rewatched Markiplier's game play so it shouldn't be way off.

P.s not everything is described the same.

(^ art by sunquids on twt)

CW/TW: mentions/includes of cussing, gore, death, blood, consumption of medication, sexual assault (brief mentions of Damian/The King)

Fluff/Normal

(Angst if you squint)

How you ended up there - How you met Philza and Technoblade

As you were walking around the hospital, you decided to take a pill to see if it'll help.

You watched as your vision blurred and some sort of demonic noises rang in your ears.

After a few seconds your vision cleared up, you took a look around the front desk.

The once dull and lifeless room had turned into this even duller and just plain deathly like room.

Blood was everywhere, random body parts of babies where thrown around. A skeletal figure was hung with what looked like an umbilical cord wrapped around its thin bones, it was connected to this baby covered by a blue blanket.

Just about everything looked grotesque.

Suddenly the floor ahead of you opened and this slimy black tentacle like arm grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in.

It seemed you may have passed out during your fall because you woke up to the sounds of hissing and supposedly two men.

Oh and let's not forget the killer headache causing the ringing in your ears. :)

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up, the light around you seemed much brighter than before.

You looked at the two men in front of you and then glanced down, you spotted Mr. Midnight!

His fur was spiked up and his ears were flat against his head. He seemed to be trying to protect you from the men.

Ignoring their presence you immediately scooped up your precious fur baby in your arms.

Your mind completely forgot about the fact there are two strange looking men in front of you.

A few droplets of water dripped down your (S/C) cheeks onto your (F/C) shirt/dress.

You started crying, so much happened in a short period of time and you found your cat you oh so desperately tried to find.

It panicked one of the adults. Said adult was an average tall man with slightly longer blond hair than average, he also had a green and white striped bucket hat. But what stuck out the most was the large pair of wings behind his back.

At first you thought that it was your pills fault but everywhere around you looked….

Normal?

It seemed like your meds wore off while you supposedly passed out.

But that doesn’t help or ease you at all. If the side effects wore off then how the hell did he have wings?!

The blond walked towards you slowly, like you were an injured puppy. His blue eyes roamed around your body, as if studying your every mouvements.

The other man who was beside him earlier seemed to tense up and looked at him as if he grew another head. He was on edge you assumed.

But he looked even weirder to you. He had long pink hair tied into a loose braid falling over his shoulder. Was it natural? He also had tusks peeking out from his bottom lip, they were large but not enough to be in the way. His skin seemed to be on the pinker side, it was roughed up with scars and calloused in certain areas. You noticed he had pig ears poking out his crown. Is he a king of sorts? Wait, that reminds you of someome... Oh! The king of course!

Ah yes, the king. You quite missed him actually, he was playful and let you use his cane- sword to get a key. But he didn't know about that part. You wonder if he's doing alright right know, the asylum sucks. And the shadow thing next to him said weird things to. Who exactly is the holy man? Why'd the shadow say he took off his clothes?

You couldn't dwell on it to much as you got distracted by the approaching man.

He reached out his hand to stop the winged male. “Phil-”

But the man named ‘Phil’ interrupted the crowned male by putting up his hand. He stopped his hand and let it limp to his side.

“It’s alright Tech, they seem harmless.” ‘Phil’ reassured, though ‘Tech’ nodded his head with a stern expression. There was still hesitance in his sharp red eyes.

‘Phil’ took the same hand he put up and reached it out to you. A soft and kind look in his eyes, you could’ve gotten lost in them if you weren’t careful.

“You alright there kid?” He asked, crouching down to meet your height from where you sat.

“Y-yeah, I think so…” You winced, your throat was hoarse and dry. You peered at ‘Phil’ as he took out this glass bottle with what you assumed was water.

He handed you the fragile bottle, he saw the look of hesitance in your childlike eyes. But something about them set off alarms in his head, they were dull. There’s nothing wrong with that of course! But they were too dull, at least for a mere kid.

He recognized a glint of trauma in your (Eye Shape) eyes, those beautiful (E/C) orbs had seen something they shouldn’t have. Haven’t they?

“Don’t worry mate, it’s fresh water.” He examined the way you handled the cork, you were inexperienced. He could tell you’ve never needed to do it, but why? It’s really the only way so far to keep water with you.

Did you not have any?

While he was lost in thought, you just had noticed he had an accent of sorts. Nothing wrong with it, you've just never heard of someone with it.

(^ Ignore that if you are british)

While the winged male was off in his own world the piglin hybrid watched as you sniffed the clear liquid in suspicion before letting your cat smell it as if you were looking for their approval.

To his surprise they did give it to you, the black cat nodded it’s head and squeaked out a meow. That strangely sounded like a yes- but he dismissed the thought. Probably was just the voices fucking with him.

You gulped down the water as if you hadn’t had any for months.

‘Why tf are they so desperate-’ ‘lowkey kinda concerned lmao’ ‘they look like they’d be an orphan tho’ ‘lmao maybe’ ‘idc about the kid, i want the cat’ ‘absolutely-’ ‘Nah fuck the cat, im allergic.’ ‘lol and?’ 'PFT ANY ASKERS???'

Those were all different voices speaking and overlapping each other.

Technoblade sighed as he glanced at his father, he knew him on the back of his hand. He let him be and slowly walked next to Phil and kneeled down.

“What’s your name kid?” he asked, taking the empty bottle you had handed him. “(Y/n), (Y/n) (L/n)/Bow.” You bluntly answered, looking at him in the eyes. He noticed how bloodshot they were, I mean you did cry not even 5 minutes ago.

"What's yours?" You questioned tilting your head a bit in the process.

Unbeknownst to you, some voices in a certain someone's head were losing their shit, squealing and chanting ‘protecc tiny bean’ over and over again.

"The name's Technoblade, but you can call me Techno." Strange name in your book but your not the one to judge. You simply nodded your head in acknowledgement.

"That guy is Philza, but you can call him Phil." He pointed his thumb to the unfocused man. Technoblade or Techno- cleared his throat.

“You’ve got somewhere to stay? Where are your parents?” “Why can’t you mind your business?”

Techno’s eyes twitched in annoyance and his teeth clenched to hold back any crude words.

Although he noticed the flash of pain in those dull (E/C) orbs of the mentions of your parents.

He sighed once again, something you noticed he did a lot. At least, so far he did.

“Look kid, do you have a place to stay or not?”

And that's how you ended up meeting your new family. . . <3

I may include a taglist if anyone's up to be tagged lmao

#mcyt x reader #platonic x reader #tommy innit x y/n #technoblade x reader #philza x reader #wilbur x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #sbi x reader #fluff #mcyt #fran bow #franbow!reader #reader as fran bow #mr. midnight #cat #tiny bit of angst #only if you squint tho

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arigatouiris · 5 years ago

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thorns and roses // tanjiro x reader

Author’s Note: Finally got around to completing @allurajarren‘s request! I hope you like this! I am so sorry that it took so long! I’m really proud of this one considering it’s my first proper anime request haha. I hope ya’ll like this, guys.

Word count: 2393

Pairing: Kamado Tanjiro x Reader

Warnings: fluff, slight angst

Ever since you were a young child, you’ve been told that a person like you could never make friends. You had around you a mighty wall, which no one bothered to even look at, let alone make the effort to jump over, which left you misunderstood, alone, and obviously, broken.

You were what you’d call, a lone ranger, secretly caring for people but can’t pause and let them get to know you—you weren’t scared, per say, you were cautious, and perhaps learning that your kindness was hidden and was not a gift you would so willingly give away.

On most nights, you pondered if this was how your life was going to be. An elder sister, married away to a family that could not stand you, and parents long dead from disease and strife—you were forced to move, adapt and learn new things to survive, but it was on one chilly, winter night did you figure out that your method of survival was not the only way to go. You were not one to believe in demons, but when your eyes landed on a small statured demon feeding on a person who was talking to you just moments ago, you were frozen to your spot.

You immediately shut your eyes, knowing that this was all you were going to live for, tears leaking from the side of your eyes when your one breath turned to two, and two turned four and you were breathing still—forcing you to open your eyes and meet with a rather strange man, a snake around his neck. He spotted you, on the ground, crying and didn’t bother to offer help. He had saved your life, after all, that was all the help you were getting.

“If you want to live,” He said, “You might need to learn a few more things.”

You wanted to learn. You wanted to be more like this man—quiet, yet callously dangerous, a large wall around him that you could literally feel around him. You didn’t want to say he reminded you of you, because you were in no comparison to the strength this man unfolded before you. Yet, you wanted to be more like him—learn and adapt in ways that could let you survive the way he had.

“Can you teach me?” You asked, your voice a mere whisper.

“No,” He didn’t look hesitant, but you could tell from his eyes that he pitied you, “But I do know someone who can.”

That was how you met Kanroji Mitsuri, who more than willingly took you under her wing—wanting to learn more about you, carry you in her arms, feed you so much food that you could barely eat, and had Obanai-san watch the two of you as you interacted. Kanroji refused to teach you her breathing technique, however, which left you confused.

Confused, only for a while.

It was one morning when you were foraging did you feel your breath be taken away. As curious as you were, you approached the flower, in all its beauty and callous demeanour, and stood there, admiring it. It was a blue rose, but you could not touch it. Thorns spread around its stem, forbidden anyone from even getting close—forcing the onlookers to admire it from afar. You were mesmerised because this flower reminded you of you, not that you considered yourself as elegant as the flower, no—but it was the thorns that melted your heart straight away.

It was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen—and that was when you realised it; some of the most beautiful things come wrapped in thorns. What Mitsuri-san had told you made so much more sense. You, at the time, were just a misunderstood 11-year old with nothing to lose.

You merely aimed to be something more than just that.

Three years passed with you having become a demon slayer. You had mastered your own breathing technique, under the supervision of Mitsuri-san and Obanai-san of course, who merely instructed you and did nothing more. Mitsuri introduced you to Shinobu after you passed, earning you the rank of a Tsuchinoe immediately for having been somewhat of a tsuguko.

You believed this was all your life was going to be like. Mitsuri-san and Obanai-san are the only ones who knew you past your thorns, and there was no need for anyone else to fill any sort of gaps, if there were any.

You wanted to believe you were happy, you wanted to believe that you were content with the kind of life you were living, but you couldn’t help but feel a void growing in your chest, day in and day out—and no matter how strong you thought you got, you were feeling a tad bit more hollow each day.

“(y/n)-chan,” Shinobu’s voice broke you out of your reverie as you were training, “We’ve got a mission.”

You always were mesmerised with her sing-song voice, though there was something odd about it that you couldn’t quite place your finger on. You nodded before heading into the estate to change and get yourself ready to leave, unaware that Shinobu was watching you the whole time.

“(y/n)-chan,” You paused as she beckoned you, “I wish you’d let people in some more. Kindness oozes out of you, yet you pick them up carefully like pebbles on the beach floor.”

You smile at her softly, “Shinobu-san, the world isn’t kind. My smiles won’t end the demons. My blade will.”

She nodded because what more could she say? You reminded her of herself from long ago, and you had said the same thing she had said to her sister before she had died. Your heart was fixed on something, and there could be nothing that could sway your mind—nothing apart from a storm.

They say that there’s a circle drawn around the very area you were standing on; this was how fate worked, in strange and bizarre ways. You were never not meant to be here and you were never not meant to meet a certain brown haired boy.

You sensed four demons ahead and what was strange was only three of them were hostile—confusing you at how a demon could just stay around people and not attack them. But that was not what you were going to think of, you were told to assist the humans there and that was what you were going to do.

Your eyes widened when you spotted a boy with a box on his back, facing off against three demons. The brown haired male looked a bit distracted when the demon approached the box on his back—forcing you to quickly jump on a trunk and breathe—

“Breathe of the Blue Rose,” You unsheathed your sword in an instant before standing still against the trunk of the tree, “Dance of the Briar,”

The boy below you froze as thorns grew around you, heavy and thick, with tiny blue roses blooming from the tips, and in one instant, the thorns wrapped around the three demons before you jumped and slashed each of their heads off, in one clean swipe. You landed on your feet ahead of the demon slayer, before turning to him and looking at him—cold eyes met warm ones, and you swore that this boy’s eyes showed you that the past, present and future were all the same thing.

“That was... That was amazing...” He said, and you ignored him.

“There’s a demon on your back.” You said, starting to unsheathe your sword.

His eyes suddenly widened, “N-No! I can explain—”

You stilled when you sensed a stronger demon presence coming from half a mile away. There were a few humans there, and you had to pick one over the other. Clicking your tongue, you glared at the boy in front of you, before sheathing your sword again.

“If you are caught protecting a demon, it could mean trouble. I hope you know that.”

Just as you were about to leave, “Thank you so much for saving my life!”

You didn’t bother on responding, but for some reason, your heart couldn’t stop beating rapidly.

The next time you saw the brown haired boy was in the butterfly estate. Shinobu had asked you and Aoi to help out, considering how there were quite a few people who required assistance—and this boy, Kamado Tanjiro in particular, was special.

You learned from the Hashira that Tanjiro’s sister had been turned into a demon, but had not hurt a single human being thus far. So that’s the demon on his back, you thought, looking at him while he was asleep. You knew from the way he was shifting and turning that he would wake up any moment, after which you were to administer his medicine. You felt bad for him, curious about the kind of life he had led, after having his entire family be killed by Muzan, and his only remaining family was turned into a demon. It broke your heart, and you bit your lip, unable to express what you were feeling.

“It’s you...” you heard Tanjiro’s frail voice alert you, before you turned around and handed him his daily medicine.

“It’s bitter.” You said before the boy drank it without question.

His blond friend was still asleep, considering it had been just two days since they were brought back to the estate. You watched as Tanjiro attempted to sit up, and you were sure he was going to engage in some conversation with you. You wanted to leave before that happened.

Just as you were about to get up, you heard him say, “You’re... Why are you so sad?”

Your eyes widened and you let out a soft gasp before you turned to look at him, looking at you earnestly. How did he know that? You gulped before frowning at him, causing him to suddenly regret what he said, and walked away—not intending on answering his question. Of course, it had caught you off-guard, but that did not mean it didn’t encroach on your boundaries. Boundaries, huh... you thought as you walked toward Tanjiro’s sister’s room.

What use are these boundaries at all? You thought as you opened the door, only intending to check up on the girl.

You expected to see the demon asleep or passive, but the second you entered, you saw her sitting up on the bed, with three layers of blankets over her.

You knew demons couldn’t go out in the sun and you knew she was trying to avoid any bit of sunlight there was so that she doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Walking over to the window, you put over a dark colored sheet over the curtain to further prevent light from getting in.

“Is that better?” You asked Nezuko, as you learned her name, only to have her grumble with joy.

You wanted to smile at her, your heart going out for the tragedy that these siblings had gone through. Slowly, without realising it, your hand reached her head and you patted her just twice, her eyes staring into your soul.

“I’m sorry, Nezuko-san,” You whispered, “I wish I was better at this.”

A second later, her hand held your own which was on her head and she brought it to her cheek, cradling it softly. You were frozen to the spot you stood on, admiring this demon’s ability to show more kindness than you had ever been able to, and you felt your lips quiver.

That evening, you noticed Aoi attempt to walk to the room Tanjiro was in. You rushed to her before grabbing her arm, staring at her.

“Do...” She had no idea what you were trying to tell her, “Do you want to give this to him?”

You nodded once before she giggled and handed you the medicine, and you entered the room to find Tanjiro already awake, smiling at you. You wanted to smile back but only a frown was plastered on your face, which for some reason, he smiled at you wider for. You quickly handed him the medicine before turning to leave, but Tanjiro stopped you.

“Could you s-stay for a moment? I’d like the company!”

You narrowed your eyes before feeling a soft blush come on your features, as you sat down beside his bed on the stool. Tanjiro drank his medicine quietly and once again smiled at you.

“I never caught your name.” He said, bashfully.

“(y/n).”

“Just (y/n)?”

You nodded. Your sister and yourself never had a surname. If you did, you couldn’t remember it.

“(y/n)-chan, thank you for saving my life! Your breath style was just so beautiful, I couldn’t look away!”

You blushed at how easily he complimented you, and cleared your throat not knowing what to say, “Thank you...” came out rather softly but he seemed all the more happier that you were just there.

A moment later, you looked at him and asked, “Why did you ask me that?”

He blinked, “For your name?”

“No, why did you ask me if I was sad?” The real question was, how did you know?

“Ah,” Tanjiro scratched the back of his head, “I could... I smelled it off you. Not meaning it in any creepy way, really! I just... You are so kind, your hands, your eyes—they’re all brimming with kindness, yet, your sadness masks them all. You’re like the rose from your breathing technique,”

You gasped at his words.

“The thorns being your sadness.”

“Tanjiro-san...” Your face was steaming hot. “I... I’m not good at any of this.”

“Not good at what?”

“I’ve always been by myself,” You couldn’t believe what was happening, “When Obanai-san found me, I thought I was dead. No one’s tried to know how I feel or what I want or how I sound like... I’ve always just been here, living by myself, feeling by myself—it’s no different from not knowing how to talk. How can I...? How I can ever dream of letting go of my insecurities? I can’t be who I want to be because—”

“Of course you can,” Tanjiro’s smile was blinding, “We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or feel happy because thorns have roses. Ultimately, you can’t accept the beauty of a rose without the thorns, right?”

You quickly stood up, feeling so bashful that you thought you’d die.

“I hope you get better soon!”

You ran out of the room, unable to contain yourself. What exited your mouth after that was a laugh, a sound so unfamiliar to you that you felt strange—warmth coursing through your veins as you rushed to the training ground. You were breathing heavily right then, tears pricking your eyes. You were not sad, not even close, yet you felt the overwhelming need to cry—as if to cleanse your system off the thoughts you have always had about yourself, your reservations, your beliefs.

You pictured Mitsuri-san’s smile right then, and you smiled back, covering your face with your palms. Slowly, you brought your hands down, the smile still intact on your face.

Thank you, you thought, Tanjiro-san.

As days passed, you were slowly becoming a new person. Tanjiro had started his training with Kanao-chan, with Inosuke and Zenitsu awake and attending the sessions as well. Tanjiro was assigned to train with you as well—where all he had to do was race you to a finish line.

All set in the woods—your place for victory.

While you easily beat them over forty times, you noticed how hard Tanjiro worked each and every single day—and all this was for Nezuko, who had gone back to sleep after you had met her that first day. You approached Tanjiro with a smile on your face, patting him on the shoulder, alerting his attention. He turned to you and froze, which caused you to still as well, tilting your head in confusion.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, still smiling.

Tanjiro’s own smile grew in retaliation and he shook his head.

“You’re...” You’re beautiful, he wanted to say, “It’s nice to see you smiling!”

Your smile only grew before saying, “It’s all thanks to you!”

You spotted Zenitsu and Inosuke slowly catch up and you smiled at them before folding your arms.

“You can try using the breathing technique while you run,” You suggested, “It’s hard at first, but you’ll get used to it. Your movements will be lagged initially, but with practice, you’ll learn to move much, much faster.”

“While running? That’ll kill me for sure!” Zenitsu said, causing you to chuckle.

“I can do it!” Inosuke yelled out loud.

Tanjiro watched you, feeling tears well up in his eyes. He sensed your sadness still, but he also sensed a growing sense of concern lodge itself in your heart —for them, and he couldn’t be happier.

That night, you noticed Tanjiro sitting on the roof of the estate. You easily jumped to him and sat beside him, not wanting to alert him when he was in a stupor. A second later however,

“(y/n)-chan? There’s something I saw in the woods the other day. Would you like to come see?”

You nodded, curious as to what it could be. A moment later, Tanjiro offered you his hand, for which you gulped before taking it, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. He led you into the forest in absolute silence, but the sound of your heart slammed against your ears and you were certain that even the brown haired boy could hear it.

He could hear it, but hardly, because his own heartbeat was raging in his chest.

When the two of you reached a clearing, it was one of the most mesmerizing sights you had ever laid eyes on. White roses, reflected in the blue of the moonlight, shone in their bed of thorns—enchanting you with every breath you took.

“Tanjiro-san,” You didn’t know what to say, “This is beautiful!”

He went ahead and picked one flower from a bed of thorns, before handing it to you. You were amazed at how beautiful these flowers were, a feeling rushing inside your heart that you couldn’t quite place. You smelled it, a soft smile sitting on your lips as you let out a sigh of happiness. Tanjiro blinked at you, with a grin.

“Thorns don’t stop you from sniffing,” He said, “Or putting them in a vase or admiring them. You work around them. Because the rose is worth it... Think of what you'd miss.”

You blushed at his words, unaware of where this was going.

“Tanjiro-san, you...”

Your heart was beating so loudly you were going deaf. You felt him come closer to you, taking your hand in his, his forehead dangerously close to yours. You wanted to hold him just then, but you were unsure. Hesitant.

But so, so deeply in love.

“I love you,” he whispered, and kissed your brow. “Thorns and all.”

Suddenly, everything else didn’t matter—the void in your chest was filled with sunlight, a dancing flame that burned brighter than the rest. Staring into his eyes, you smiled as tears leaked out of your (e/c) ones before feeling Tanjiro’s hand reach your cheek and bring your forehead to touch his.

“I think I’ve loved you from the second you saved my life, (y/n)-chan,” He said, shutting his eyes. “And there is not any wall I wouldn’t scale for you.”

Your hands wound themselves around his neck before breathing into his scent, feeling his skin touch yours, his hair tickle your cheek—Tanjiro embraced you back, feeling his arms protectively wrap around your figure, as he kissed you softly on your cheek. There was no need for you to hide away anymore—and there was no need for you to be afraid of your kindness.

If there was one thing Tanjiro was good at, it was at loving you.

And if there was one thing you were good at, it was returning the love that is given to you.

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myblueeyedbuggers · 4 years ago

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My Boys

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Reader x Steve Rogers (Platonic) Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 1918

Warnings: Language, A tiny bit of Angst

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

So, Hi again, I know I said that the next chapter would be shorter but I kinda got carried away with the story, hopefully you guys don’t mind XD As mentioned before All requests and imagines are open, any constructive criticism is welcome. Enjoy Everyone! (I just noticed I linked the wrong page for Chapter 1, not a very good tech student am I? XD)

A few days later-

The right side of my face felt like it was on fire, a constant ache reminding me of what happens when I fail my task, boss handed my ass to me in more ways then one. The damn beatings from the boys made me too weak to stop the bastard named Greg from running off and calling the police, the dick decided to hand himself in instead of spending time with yours truly, which in all honesty is understandable, any sane person would turn and leg it away from a small lass looking like she went 5 rounds with a bear.

Perhaps walking around in the middle of the day isn’t the best idea when your face looks like the rear end of a smashed-up truck, people were stopping and staring at me, it was really doing miracles for my self-esteem (Notice my sarcasm there). I’d already managed to screw up this “mission” anyway, staying undetected with a face like this is nearly impossible, my decision of winging it this morning coming back to bite me in the ass within the first 5 minutes out the house. Safe to I was royally buggered, both literally and figuratively.

My mind was buzzing with different techniques and plans I needed to get the next target, maybe I could break into his house and dig up some dirt on this guy, from what I’ve been told that should be easy considering the dirt bag’s cheating on his wife with the maid from the apartment be- whatever train of thought I had was completed obliterated, somehow my ass hand ended up on the floor. Again. Irritation flooded my veins, whoever did better be ready to dig themselves an early grave, looking up my eyes made contact with the one person who I wished to never see again. Bucky f**king Barnes. “Why is it every time I see you, you’ve somehow managed to piss me off? Is that how you greet everyone or am I just that Special?”, I was met with silence. Not unnerving at all, glancing at him I noticed he was staring at my face with wide eyes, immediately I pulled myself from the floor and ran like hell in the opposite direction.

This is not an ideal situation, to anyone else it’d look like I was running for the bus, when I was actually running for my life, “y/n! stop!” like that’s gonna bloody happen ya moron there’s a flipping reason I’m running, cause I ain’t doing it for fun!I already know I’m gonna regret doing this, my feet changed direction and guided my body down a small but familiar ginnel, two lefts and a right later I was approaching a wall, adrenaline was rushing through my body as I launched myself at the wall. Surprisingly I didn’t faceplant and managed to get a hold of the top of the wall, the lower half of my body erupted in sharp pains, but I needed to ignore them, quickly pulling myself up and leaping off to the other side. As soon as my feet touched the floor I was off, I didn’t really wanna know if Bucky saw what I did or where I went, I might not like the guy, but he doesn’t need to get tangled up in with a hopeless case like me.

Once I was certain that I’d lost him, I crouched down behind some bins and attempted, key word attempted, to catch my breath. I’ll admit that was way too close, anyway why does he care? I was and still am being a complete dick to him, does he not get the hit that I’m not his number one fan? Eh, when’ve I cared? it’s just me against this bullshit world and I’m pretty sure that ain’t gonna change anytime soon. Now fully recovered, I emerged from my hidey hole and… walked right into Bucky. “What the Hell?! Are you some form of f**cking ninja or something, did you not get that don’t wanna talk or do I need to give you a formal letter?!”, he just stared at me with raised eyebrows and let me finish my rant, cocky bugger.

“You done running now? Wanna try telling me who the hell did this?”, okay who the hell crapped him is cereal? “Nobody, I simply fell of a bike earlier on this week avoiding the village idiot”, giving me, an incredulous look Bucky sighed and covered his face in exasperation. Seeing an opportunity to get away, I slowly started edging away and to be fair, I nearly got past him before he grabbed my arm, “do you really expect me to believe that y/n?”.

The glare I sent him could have made Satan himself piss his pants, but Bucky didn’t even flinch much to my frustration, “Believe it, don’t believe it all in all I couldn’t give a shit, now let go of my arm before I rip it off “I’m pretty sure I just growled at him. And of course, the dick does the opposite and tightens his grip on my arm, wait is he dragging me?! The hell! do I look like dog on a leash? “Fine then don’t tell me, but you’re coming to my house to get cleaned up” his tone was final and left no room for arguments, but it’s me, when have I ever backed down from a challenge? “Nope, nah, not happening I can take care of myself thank you very much, now I’ll ask you one last time. Let. Go. Of. My. Arm.”

My voice held so much spite, I hardly recognised it as my own, “No” and with that he picked me up, ignoring my protests, and started carry me to his home

.-40 minutes later

How the hell Bucky managed to carry me for this long, I have no idea, for a lad of 14 he’s impressively strong and that’s the annoying thing, I’ve been trying to get off him for the past 40 minutes and even my hardest punches and kicks just seemed to tickle him. At one point he even started laughing at my threats, which added to my burning rage, the urge to smack this cocky son of a gun was hard to contain at this point. I’ve no idea what neighbourhood were in, it resembled a perfect suburban hub, the ideal place to settle down and raise a family, I wonder what it’s be like to be apart of a fully functioning family coming home to people who loved you…it must be nice.

Unknown to Bucky, a single tear slid down my face, my heart longing for a family to call my own, but that’d never happen, hell according to my parents I wasn’t even supposed to exist, by the time my mother realised she was pregnant it was too late to get an abortion. I was a curse that ruined their lives and their relationship, I’ve got the scars to prove how much of a waste of space I am, “You okay back there? You’ve been quite for more than two minutes” Bucky’s voice cut through my thoughts, for a minute I’d forgotten where I was. Okay that’s enough of feeling sorry for yourself y/n, pull yourself together you’ve managed this long without anyone, “Hello? Are you asleep of somethin?” I swear down this guy is more annoying then my conscious sometimes, “Nope I was thinking of all the different ways I can kick ya ass later buddy boy”, his body vibrated with laughter as Bucky let out a load laugh at my reply.

Do you see what I’m dealing with here ?!, “Good to know you’re back to the you’re ever cheerful self doll”, what in the name of ever loving fudge?! “Since when did I become your doll Barnes? last time I checked slingin’ a girl over your shoulder and carrying her off isn’t the way to get a girl!” all the bugger does is laugh, laugh I tell you! this boy is gonna be the death of me. “You sure about that doll face? cause it worked for me”.

I could practically see the stupid smirk on his face, also can someone explain to me why I’m blushing? For once I had nothing say, my sarcasm failed me…damn it. A low chuckle brought my attention back to the annoyance with legs, more commonly known as Barnes, “We’re almost home Doll, Mama should be able to clean you up in no time” oh no, no, no I don’t do well with parents, or any adult now that I think about it, they always have this look of pity in their eyes when they see me. It’s like they’ve just found a homeless kitten on the street and feel the need to adopt it and take care of it until they get bored, it’s infuriating and embarrassing, “Oi! Barnes, I ain’t telling you again I can look after myself, your mama doesn’t need to trouble herself with me I’m perfectly capable of cleaning myself up!” he let out another frustrated sigh, he must be going for a record it’s the 20th one, before ignoring me completely and walking up the drive.

“Yeah you keep saying you okay by yourself but look at the state of you y/n! you’ve got a busted-up nose and lip, a black eye and a cut on you’re eyebrow! How the hell is that taking care of yourself?!” for once he did have a point, but hell’s gonna have to freeze over before I admitted that, “Not that you’d know this Barnes, but this is what happens every day, I have to make my own livin’ I ain’t got anyone to rely on and it’s been that way for years, it’s how I like it! now put me the hell down before I kick ya ass to China!”.

The sound of an opening door stopped Bucky’s reply, “JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING LUGGIN’ THIS POOR GIRL AROUND LIKE A SACK OF POTATOS?! PUT HER DOWN NOW!” holy mother of all things holy I do NOT want to be on the receiving end of this lady’s anger! I think my ass is attracted to the floor, one minute I’m being held captive by an annoying pillock and the next I’m on the floor nursing a bruised behind, “Jesus Christ talking about letting a girl down quickly!” hands grabbed my upper arms and pulled me to my feet, Bucky’s apologies faded into the background when a shocked gasp silenced the conversation. Slowly I raised my head, Bucky’s mother had tears falling down her cheeks, her brown eyes were filled with the two emotions I hated the most, pity and sadness.

Not being able to keep eye contact any longer, my gaze shifted to the porch floor, her shadow slowly started to move towards me, she was being cautious as if she were approaching a wild animal and I hated it. I hate seeing people treat me like a basketcase, I can’t stand it “I’m very sorry for disturbing you ma’am, I’ll leave” I quickly turn around and start to walk away, about 3 steps in a gentle hand grabs my shoulder and stops me. “Sweetie, you don’t have to apologise for anything, come inside I’ll get you cleaned up, Bucky, honey Steve’s inside with your father and sister” and with that Bucky’s mother guides me inside with a comforting hand and a gentle smile.

Soooo..yeah this happens, I’m not gonna lie I felt really bad writing the sad bit about the reader, I may have teared up a tiny bit, anyway YAY chapter 2 is outta the way!. Hope you all liked it :)Rose xx

#bucky barnes x reader #captain america x reader #reader #mcu #reader insert #steve #bucky #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #captain america

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stillchaoticlogic · 5 years ago

Text

Stumbling: Chapter 11

Pairing: Raihan X Reader X Leon

Your life hadn’t gone exactly as you planned…

This is why when an old rival walks into the coffee shop you work at he gives you an offer you just can’t refuse. Finally, a chance at the League. Suddenly you are thrust into the spotlight and a world you thought you had left behind. Dreams aren’t always what they are cracked up to be though, especially when you find yourself the tangled up with the champion and a certain gym leader.

Has all your dreams come true?

Or is this your worst nightmare?

Masterlist

Chapter 11: No Time to Lose

Blinking in annoyance at the light filtering through your window you huff as you roll over trying to escape it. You spent the majority of the night thinking about Leon and Raihan’s confession to you. At first, there was an acute thrill up your spine at the prospect of their feelings for you, however as the night wore on a sense of dread began to encompass your entire being. What are you going to do?

With a groan, you sit up in bed and decide that you will be spending the next couple of days in town training and resting with Sonia and Nessa.

The common area of the suite Leon rented is still cast in early morning shadow, the peace yet to be disturbed. You make a quick breakfast for yourself and your Pokémon before you write a quick note to the duo and make your silent exit. You need time to process precisely what’s happening in your life. Besides, you aren’t going far and just maybe you’ll meet up with the girls for some girl time.

The walk to the pier is peaceful and the few that are out give you a friendly wave and continue on their way. You aren't overly surprised to see Sonia and Nessa on the beach clearly working on whatever research Sonia is doing.

“What are you doing here?” Sonia asks with a wave.

“Isn’t Kabu’s gym next? Shouldn’t you be heading back to Motostoke?” asks Nessa wiping sweat off her brow in the early morning sun.

“I’m taking a few days to train. Plus I talked with Leon and Raihan yesterday…”

“About their feelings for you?” The duo choruses.

You wince but nod your affirmation, “I just don’t know what to do! I’ve finally got my chance at the League and I’m being pursued by Pokémon thieves and now this! It’s just…. a lot…”

“Take a break then! Get your head on straight. Kabu will be there in a few days,” Nessa says her hands on her hips.

“That’s what I’m doing… plus having a break from the guys to at least process everything is a good idea.”

“Totally agree!” Chirps Sonia, “You need some girl time! Although I will say this… you’ve got Lee messed up! I don’t think I’ve seen him like this since….”

“Since when?” You ask leaning forward and silently begging her with your eyes to tell you.

“Since… he couldn’t find you a couple of years ago. He was pretty devastated… I think he had this idea that you ran off with someone and he missed his chance with you.”

“I just don’t understand why he didn’t tell me years ago…”

“We all grew up together and to him, you were this amazingly perfect person that wouldn’t see him like that… he had it bad when we were younger. Every time you won against him he was always somewhere between embarrassed he lost and proud you won. It was pretty cute…”

You sigh with a soft smile on your face as you reminisce about your time growing up together.

“I adored him… when I heard he was coming back home for a bit I ran…”

“That’s why you disappeared!?” Sonia exclaims.

You nod without meeting her gaze, “I was embarrassed… he’s the champion… the greatest champion… and I thought of myself as a failure.”

“You’re not a failure…” she says taking a step towards you, heartbreak in her eyes and her hands clasped together under her chin.

“I know that now… but I wasn’t in a good place then… I’ve improved a lot.”

When you meet her gaze there is a familiar determination in your eyes. She remembers that look well. She saw it on your face during every battle, every lesson and every training session. Sonia remembers you as a force of nature and now she needs to make sure you see yourself that way too.

“I need to get to the finals for me… for my team… for everyone who believes in me… I don’t know what to do about them now… especially now that Raihan’s in the picture…”

“Oh yeah… Rai won’t give you up very easily. He likes you a lot and he always goes for what he wants. He’s friends with Leon, but obviously he likes you enough to go head to head with him. Don’t get me wrong, he’ll respect your decision whatever it is, but be prepared for him to show you how he feels. Plus you like him too don’t you?” Nessa asks with a sly smirk.

You blush and look away, “I thought he was just kidding this entire time…”

“That’s because you haven’t thought yourself worthy of love with everything that happened in your past. You are. He’s going to make sure you know that too.”

Nessa nods sagely at her conclusion before she gives you a soft look.

“He likes you for you, don’t doubt that.”

You nod with tears in your eyes unable to speak. You shake your head to rid yourself of the emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

“Thanks, guys… I’m going to train for a bit… you tap a couple of poke balls on your belt and Nile, your handsome Vaporeon pops out along with Hades, your Deino, and Serenity, your Hatenna.

“Is this the team for Kabu?” Sonia asks.

“You have a Vaporeon!?” Squeals Nessa.

You laugh, “Yeah, I do! He’s going to do amazing! I just know it!”

Nile preens under the attention and happily flicks his fin-like tail before he happily struts around showing off his form proudly.

You wave as you jog down the beach, your pokemon following along behind you. Nile splashes in the ocean kicking up the water around him. Serenity bounces along behind you and Deino sniffs the air as he easily keeps up. The sound of the waves soothes your mind as you continue your jog and slowly you allow yourself to get lost in thought. You hit a small cove and let out a sigh. You sit in the sand and catch your breath before you start to train your team. The morning flies by and before you know it you are calling out the rest of your team and setting up to fix lunch.

“You know you would think that after getting caught by yourself you would learn not to go off alone,” says a voice behind you.

You turn around and see a man standing on a rock overlooking the small cove. You get into a fighting stance summoning your pokemon to you.

“I don’t need a babysitter. Who are you? What do you want?” You demand.

The man is handsome in a devil may care kind of way. He has dark hair that falls into deep green eyes, he has a lean physique without being overly muscular. His stance is relaxed in his black ripped jeans and a black tee-shirt.

“The names Aaron and I wanted to extend my invitation to you in person… I really wanted to meet you…” The way your name rolls off of his tongue is borderline seductive.

“I don’t understand your interest in me…”

“You tamed a Deino in about five minutes flat. The team you’re raising already has much potential. You could do great things for our organization.”

“You mean you want me to train the pokemon you steal? Absolutely not.”

“Not all of them are stolen…” he says wistfully as he drops from the rock to the ground, his boots sinking into the sand. The light hiss beneath his feet as he approaches you inspires a sense of foreboding.

“Some of them are bred for power, such as that Deino that you took from my subordinate.”

“Did you come here for him? Because I’m not letting you take him!”

“Such passion! No… consider him my gift to you. He needs someone who will mold him into the force that he’s meant to be. Besides, I know you’ll join me one day…”

“I will never join you!”

“I know you… I know what you’ve been through… You’ve faced fires that these children never have. Even the beloved champion will never understand you. You’ve changed too much from the little girl you once were.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you spit at him.

“I was you… I was denied entry to the league. I was told I wasn’t good enough. And I proved them all wrong. I own Galar now,” he circles you like prey.

You glare at him, “I’m nothing like you. I would never take a pokemon from their owner or attack innocent people.”

“You don’t know what you’re capable of… You’ve already taken two pokemon that didn’t belong to you.”

“That was different!”

“Is it? What makes you different from us?” he asks as he tilts his head.

Closing the distance between the two of you, he leans down until he’s just inches from you, his breath fanning your face. His eyes bore into yours and he smirks before he tilts his head almost innocently.

“Hmm?”

“Those pokemon were being mistreated.”

“So you have the right to take them?”

“They chose to be with me.”

“So you’re different?”

“I’m not like you if that’s what you mean.”

He smirks as he leans back, “Be looking for a present from me… One day you will make an excellent addition to my team. I’ll be unstoppable with you by my side,” his finger runs down your jaw and you jerk away from you.

“I don’t want your present, I don’t want to have anything to do with you,” your voice is like ice as you regard the man before you.

“Oh, you wound me…” he says with a chuckle as he holds his hand above his heart, “Play nice or you won’t get this little beauty back.”

He holds up a Pokeball and you glance down at your belt to notice that Davine’s Pokeball is gone.

“Give her back!” you yell, Serenity getting into position beside you.

“Make me, my darling,” he says with a smirk as he sends out a Hydreigon.

“How dare you! Serenity, no!” you yell as your tiny Hatenna rushes ahead of you, “Hades!”

“You think your little Hatenna and Deino can beat my Hydreigon? Think again darling! Dragon Rush!”

“Serenity! Hades! No!” You watch in horror as Serenity uses Deino’s head as a catapult as she jumps up into the air and releases her Disarming voice just as Hades unleashes a Dragon Breath. Neither attack does much damage and you grit your teeth in worry. You gasp as Nile rushes forward and attacks using his Aurora Beam.

“Nile! Dodge!” you yelp as Hydreigon sends out a Dragon Pulse. He leaps out of the way in the nick of time as Serenity attacks with a Dazzling Gleam. One of Hydreigon’s heads bite down onto Serenity and you yell as she cries out as she’s thrown from the dragons’ mouth bouncing off of a rock before she falls to the ground.

“Serenity! No!” You yell as you go to rush towards her. You’re thrown back and away landing hard on the sand. Axel and Arum leap towards you and stand protectively in front of you.

“Such loyal pokemon you have… Impressive,” he says in a bored tone as he throws Davine’s Pokeball up and down in his hand.

“Give her… back!” you demand as you sit up, coughing as you do so.

He smirks, “You’re going to have to come get her…” he says as he turns to walk away.

Your eyes harden, “How dare you! You can’t just take her from me!”

“If you’re too weak to protect your pokemon, you don’t deserve to keep them.”

“If it’s a fight you want…”

“Oh it is…” he purrs.

Your eyes narrow as you glare at him, “Fine,” you bite out as you stand up shakily.

He tilts his head up as he regards you smugly, “There she is…”

“Hades! Go south! Axel, east side! Arum, west side! Nile, go north! You know what to do!”

Your pokemon scatter as Hades gets behind his future form and unleashes his attack as Axel nuzzles the dragon before he’s thrown back. Paralysis overtakes the beast slowing him down as Arum attacks from the side, she just barely escapes a body slam leaping up into the air and kicking the dragon hard. You gasp as a bright light encompasses your Steenee and when the light dims standing before you is Tsareena.

“Arum… you evolved…” you say in surprise.

“How cute… You think you have a chance now? Think again! Hydreigon go! Body Slam!”

The dragon comes lumbering towards you, but before you are hit a bright light leaps in front of you and the dragon is thrown back as a powerful attack radiates from the light and when it clears Serenity has evolved into a Hattrem, a look of anger on her tiny face.

“Such adoration… Do they know you’re going to fail?”

“I’m not going to fail. I refuse to fail anymore.”

“Acid Armour, Nile! Then Aurora Beam! Dragon Breath! Hit him with your best shot! Axel, poison him! Arum, Stomp!”

“So ruthless…” he groans tilting his head back and stomping his foot before he fixes his almost heated gaze on you.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” you growl at your opponent.

“Oh? Then show me…” he purrs.

Hydreigon roars as the attacks hit him all at once, Serenity unleashes another Dazzling Gleam.

“Switch!” you yell and watch your pokemon easily rotate confusing the already damaged Hydreigon. He roars in anger and lashes out, hitting Axel again throwing the baby pokemon back. Serenity rushes towards him as Nile unleashes an attack to distract the dragon. She quickly heals him before standing protectively in front of the disoriented baby. The Hydreigon turns towards Nile and attempts to unleash another attack before Hades headbutts the pokemon to keep him distracted. He whips around and almost loses his balance before he rights himself. His large wings cause a burst of sand to assault the senses of Hades. Hydreigon unleashes a Dragon Pulse and catches Hades directly sending the much smaller dragon backward into the cliff behind him.

“Hades!” you yell when he doesn’t get back up. Serenity attempts to get to her teammate but the Dragon whips around and with a well placed Dragon Tail knocks her back for a second time.

“Serenity! Please get up!” Just as Hydreigon attempts to smash your partner, Arum rushes forward and snatches her out of the way, jumping to safety. You aren’t prepared for the battle cry Axel makes as a bright light engulfs his tiny frame. A smug smirk and a tilt of his head take the place of the pout your baby used to have.

“Fascinating… They are evolving to save you… Look what I’ve done for you! Come with me now! I don’t think I can wait!” he practically sings as he gazes at your team.

“They are my team and you have their sister and we aren’t resting until we have her back.”

He chuckles as he regards the pokemon before him with glee, “Such rage… I love it.”

You narrow your eyes, “Axel Venoshock! Take him out!”

With one final attack from your newly evolved Toxricity you watch as the dragon falls from the sky and lands with a crash.

“You’ve evolved… Just like you’re pokemon… You will be my greatest ally. Just come with me, Darling. We could be great together!” He says his hands in the air before he beckons you towards him.

“I beat you,” you pant, “Now give her back.”

He chuckles but tosses the Pokeball at you as your team stands by your side, beaten and battered but still standing.

You stumble forward and catch the Pokeball, you release her and hold her close to you as tears threaten to fall.

“Congratulations, you’ve passed. Expect your present soon my darling,” he winks and using two fingers blows you a kiss.

“I’m not your darling and I don’t want anything from you,” you bite out.

“You’ll thank me later!” he calls over his shoulder as he walks away casually as if nothing just happened.

You collapse to the sand and a sob wracks your body. You feel helpless. Your pokemon gather around you as they attempt to comfort you the best they can.

“We have to get stronger,” you whisper, “we have to…”

Davine nuzzles against you with silent determination in her eyes.

“I’m really proud of you all…” you gasp out between sobs, “So proud…”

They crowd around showing their support in any way they can. You really are proud of them, giving their all and evolving to fight against a force much more powerful than them.

After you have reeled your emotions back in you stumble to your feet and make your way back towards town. You can hardly believe that you’ve met him, the man who runs the ring of thieves and he wants you.

“What is happening…” you whisper as you gaze at the sky as tears threaten to fall once again. You’re in a daze as you stumble across the beach.

Exhaustion overwhelms as you make your way towards the pokemon center. Once you’ve had your team healed you somehow make it back to the suite you are staying in with Leon and Raihan. The moment you walk into the room the guys leap up.

Alarm goes through them at the sight of your shaky form. They rush towards you as you collapse into their arms.

“What happened?”

“Who did this?!”

“I met him…” you whisper.

“Met who?” asks Leon as he grasps your arms and holds you steady.

“The leader… he tried to take Davine… I almost didn’t beat him… I almost lost… She would have been gone…I would have failed…” you dissolve into sobs once again as Leon pulls you into a hug.

Raihan paces before the two of you, his hands clenched into fists, he seems almost feral as he snarls out, “I’m going to kill him…”

“Rai…” you whimper, pulling away from Leon.

He stops his pacing and he kneels before you, his hands grasping yours, “What is it, Princess?”

“Just be with me?” you ask quietly voice shaking with unshed tears.

He looks heartbroken as he nods and gently pulls you into a hug.

“Princess, can you tell us what happened?” Raihan mumbles into your hair.

You heave a shaky breath and recount the events of your afternoon. You can feel Raihan shaking as he attempts to keep his rage in check. Leon is leaning forward, his cap covering his eyes as he sits dangerously still.

“You don’t need to go off by yourself, someone needs to be with you at all times,” Leon growls as he gets up and begins to pace like a Pyroar.

You look away and nod, tears in your eyes.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Raihan murmurs as he pulls you into him again.

“I’m scared… I almost lost her. I’m not strong enough.”

“That’s what he wants you to think. He wants you to feel scared and helpless. You can’t give into him!” Insists Leon.

“Well…” you say standing up, “He succeeded.”

You walk from the living area into your temporary bedroom. Feelings that you’ve held at bay for months come crashing down on you as you feel yourself sink into the bed. This time tears don’t come as you lay there feeling nothing and everything all at once.

You feel the bed sink in next to you and a hand press against your arm. When you don’t shake him off he begins to run his hand up and down your arm soothingly. You bury your face into the pillow as you grasp his hand pulling him against you and curling around your clasped hands. He sighs into your hair as you feel his lips on your shoulder before he buries his face into your neck.

“I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you today,” you feel him shake his head as if trying to physically rid himself of the thought.

“I feel so helpless…” you whisper.

“You’re not. You won today, even with the odds stacked against you. You won.”

“If he has other Pokémon that are just as strong…”

“You can’t think about that right now. We’re going to get through this. I promise.”

You nod as exhaustion takes and you fall into a fitful sleep.

Notes: So that happened... I hope you all enjoyed this tense chapter! Please leave love in likes, reblogs and comments! I always want to hear your thoughts!

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#pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon scenarios #pokemon leon #pokemon imagines #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #raihan #pokemon raihan #raihan x reader #gym leader raihan #raihan imagines #leon x reader #leon imagine #leon #champion leon #champion leon x reader #stumbling

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flowerslightning · 5 years ago

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(Part 2) Cloud Strife and his Mental Illness

a.k.a Psychiatric Disorder

| 1. Memory | ⇦ Click if u havent read it yet

2. Hallucinations, Illusions and Delusions

Since these three things relate well with Cloud's troubled memories, I'll be talking about them first before jumping to his Confused Personality

This post will bore u a bit or maybe a lot 😂 it depends. If ure interested with psychiatric stuff, u'll find this enjoyable as much as i do

Disclaimer : I'm 21 and still a tiny meany student. During my intern at Psychiatric Department, I learned and witnessed psychiatric problems from real life patients. And since Cloud (my fav FF character) has psychiatric issues, I'll be sharing some of my knowledge and interpretation of Cloud's character. Im not diagnosing him, rather i'm giving my own opinion about his status

@nibelheiim created a post about dissociation, she explained about hallucination, PTSD and more. Come and check her out! Her words were more direct and easier to understand. She explained about Psychological matter and she's a real psychology student too!

While my explanation will be more focusing on Psychiatric Topic and words used will be more complicated (with grammar errors). My facts will be based on ICD 10 and DSM-IV

A lot of people were confused with these three terms - Hallucination Illusion Delusion - These terms associated with abnormalities of perception. It is important to understand that this abnormality holds two keys; ● 1. Perception is the process of becoming aware of what is presented through the sense organs. ● 2. Imagery is an experience originating within the mind that usually lacks the sense of reality that is part of perception.

Abnormalities of perceptions have 4 theme, but I'll be focusing on two major types that relate with Cloud: (i) Hallucinations ; (ii) Illusions. Some cases, perception can be normal in intensity and quality but has a changed meaning for the person who experiences it - it is called as Delusional Perception. It is not an abnormal of perceptions, rather it is a disorder of a person's thinking.

Try guessing, how many from these terms does Cloud has?

1. Hallucinations

- A perception experienced in the absence of external stimulus to the corresponding sense organ. Eg - patient hears a voice when no one is speaking within a hearing distance or patient sees something approaching him when visually no one is there. There are 2 qualities to determine a hallucination: ●it is experienced as a true perception●it seems to come from outside of the head●

The above gif, where Sephiroth suddenly appear again before Cloud's eyes even able to touch Aerith's shoulder, it illustrate perfectly the 'Visual Hallucination'. No one can see Sephiroth, other than Cloud himself.

Cloud [Remake] kinda had anxiety when he stared at the fire and later he saw Sephiroth surrounded with flames, then poof, that silver guy disappeared along with the images of fire. He said he was hallucinating stuff after the first bombing mission. Idk how Sephiroth could create fake images of fire around him, either Cloud was really hallucinating or it was really Sephiroth that came to see him. But, this is what we call as 'Visual and Auditory Hallucinations'. Cloud SAW Sephiroth and HEARD him talking when no one else did. I can also add in 'Tactile Hallucination' because he probably felt the burning sensation on his skin from the flame around him that caused him to feel hot and sweating, or probably it was his anxiety that caused him sweating upon meeting Sephiroth with the flashback of his burning hometown

Hallucinations can occur in all sensory modalities; visual, olfactory, auditory etc. In the Remake, the Whispers could only be seen by certain people. To those who couldnt see it, they would be puzzled what was happening to u, and would've thought that u were hallucinating something, like in the case of Aerith.

In Cloud's case, perhaps Cloud [In OG] had auditory hallucination due to his severe case of Mako Addiction. But then, that wasnt exactly a hallucination though, cuz the thing he said "'Coming.. They're coming" was actually true. A monster fell from the sky.

Other 'hallucinations' that Cloud had was the images of Sephiroth that appeared in certain headache. Cloud may claimed it was his hallucinations, but i've read it somewhere that says it was really Sephiroth appeared before his eyes. Sephiroth was messing with Cloud's mind, trying to break his mental in order to control him. However, IF IT WASNT SEPHIROTH that came, Cloud's 'hallucination' would be known as a mental disorder that may lead to severe case - eg Schizophrenia.

2. Illusions

An illusion is a misperception of an external stimulus. It often occur in several circumstances: (i)level of sensory stimulation reduced (ii)attention is not focused on the sensory modality (iii)level of consciousness reduced (iv)being in a state of intense emotion- fear.

Does Cloud has it? Urm, maybe? Well, it can be proven when he saw his 'noisy neighbour next door' as Sephiroth. As stated above, illusions occur in 4 conditions, and Cloud was in number (i) and (iv). When Tifa yelled him to stop, Cloud came back to reality and got really confused when the 'Sephiroth' that attacked him was actually a sick guy. We can also add in 'Hallucinations of Deep sensation' in this scenario bcause Cloud experienced the feelings of being pushed down by 'Sephiroth'.

However, we all know that 'Sephiroth' was real at that moment. For Cloud, he thought it was an illusion, but for us the audience, it was a real thing.

If u want a better explanation and example, try watching Joker the movie. The main theme of the movie was 'mental illness'. There are lots of scenes that shows different type of hallucinations, illusions and also personality disorder.

3. Delusions

a.k.a fixed false belief. A belief that is held firmly despite evidence contrary. A delusion is nearly always a false belief but not always so. There are around 11 types of delusions according to the book. Half of it may suggest Shcizophrenia. Schizophrenia is certainly not in Cloud's case. I've studied one by one the type of delusions and none of them match with Cloud FF7.

I will surely give anyone a good punch in the face if they dare to say Cloud suffers from Schizophrenia. I've met with bunch of patients having it, and the way they see this world is totally different from us.

In some other cases, eg a spiritualist convince a person to believe in his spiritualism and he present with contrary evidence to the non-believer. This non-delusional belief is called 'overvalued ideas'

Overvalued ideas is an isolated , preoccupying and strongly held belief that dominates a person's life and may affect his action. One of the easiest example i can come up with; a friend who had skin cancer may be convinced to her roomate that cancer is contagious, and her roomate suspects any abnormal skin conditions she has is an evidence to show she too, may have developed the same cancer, when the truth is, she's just completely fine.

It is very hard to distinguish between a delusion and overvalued ideas.

I had a patient, he was diagnosed with Schizophrenia. He looked like an ordinary man, but when he talked, it sounded so unreal. He said he had jumped off from 10th floor several times and didnt get a scratch from it. He believed he wont die bcause he had gained super power. He even convinced me to try his 'so-called-secret technique- on how to survive a jump. By doing that often, I will have a superpower like him - a strong physical body. Up until now, I still dont know if he was being deluded with his thought or he was overvalued his idea, bcause from his psychiatric record, he did try to jump off from the second floor of his apartment's balcony a few times.

So, Im not really sure of myself did Cloud [FF7] really had delusion or not. Well, he believed he made it to SOLDIER bcause he had mako eyes. But was it something we called as delusion or was he just overvaluing his idea? He didnt know the truth and his memory messed up. No one could explain to him why he had Mako eyes, except Prof Hojo and Zack who knew the truth

Besides, after Tifa helped with his memory, Cloud accepted the fact he wasnt in SOLDIER. For patient who deluded with their own thoughts, they hardly could believe what people told him.

However, surely Cloud [in AC] had delusions of guilt and worthlessness due to the fact that he believed he had done something shameful and sinful - the main trigger of this theme was, he got infected with Geostigma while he was searching a cure for Denzel. Cloud got depressed with the loss of Aerith and the memory of Zack death had returned, but I think he was recovering very well in that two years time skip. The moment he got Geostigma, he became deluded he was worthless and his depression kicked in again.

Hallucinations and Illusions are normal to be experienced by healthy people, but it wont be if u encounter too many hallucinations & illusions in 2 weeks time. Believe it or not, a lot of people around us are actually mentally ill bcause some of them may have excessive certain delusions, such as delusions of jealousy, grandiose delusions, nihilistic, paranoid etc. Although 'it is consider as normal' in a few circumstance, a few cases need to refer to psychologist and in severer cases, must refer to psychiatrist. If u follow Dr Phil's show, u'll see a bunch of patients have different kind of crazy delusions.

Overall from my statement above, I would conclude that since Sephiroth always appear before Cloud's eyes, this resulting Cloud to think he has both Hallucination and Illusion, when in fact, he's just a normal guy with amnesia and personality confusion. Cloud doesnt have Delusion like how many fans said, neither he has an overvalued idea, even with the evidence of Mako eyes supporting his reasoning + he's a great fighter. I will have to say that perhaps it is his brain defence mechanism that tricks his mind to believe he is a Soldier.

If only Sephiroth stop disturbing Cloud's life, it will be a lot faster to fix Cloud. Tifa alone will be the main strength to get Cloud back to normal. Ah, but this is the beauty of the game. Life wont be exciting without the presence of a beautiful villain and a love triangle (Tifa-Cloud-Sephiroth). Lol Technically I see them trying to fight for Cloud's mental health. Tifa wants to help Cloud with his mental status while Sephiroth is trying to destroy it. Lolololol

My crack theory : Sephiroth says he's going to take Cloud's most precious thing, and he ends up choosing to kill Aerith, but ofc there's another reason why Aerith got killed. But if Sephiroth kills Tifa first, I think he can take over Cloud's mind faster, because then, no one will be holding Cloud back. Honestly no one can ever will, not even Aerith. So does that mean Sephiroth doesnt know about Cloud's deepest secret or is Cloud just good at hiding his weakness?

I WILL UPDATE THE NEXT POST LATER because I've reached tumblr limit images agaiiin. The next part will be focusing about his personality - Personality Disorder

If there is any part that I've mistaken, pls correct me. I'm sorry for my english. English is not my native language, so there are plenty of grammar errors.

#final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 remake #final fantasy gif #ff7r #mygif #ff7r spoilers #cloud ff7 #cloud strife gif #sephiroth gif #final fantasy sephiroth #character analysis #psychology #psychiatric disorders #cloud strife #aerith gainsborough

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moonboohoo · 5 years ago

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BOOK: DREAM; IN THE STARS

CHARACTER: IWAIZUMI HAJIME X READER

SUMMARY: IN WHICH A GIRL NEEDS TO REPAY HER SINS BY BEFRIENDING WITH A VOLLEYBALL PLAYER.

WORD COUNT : 2285

*LOWERCASE INTENDED.

2.3 ㅡ STARRY NIGHT.

warnings: slight angst, crying hajime.

you woke up in the middle of the night, and you felt like you were freezing to death. you rubbed your eyes tiredly and glanced at the illuminated green numbers on the digital clock. it was only 2:24 am. you groaned in dismay as you put your blanket on top of you, attempting to sleep since you have classes tomorrow. you heard a strong gust of wind blowing against your window, and this irritated you even more. you're too lazy to close the curtains, but you didn't like the sound of the wind either - you let out a frustrated sigh as you wore your white fluffy house shoes, and walked towards your window. your eyes landed on a certain figure, who was standing on the roadside as he looked at the night sky with an emotionless expression.

you squinted your eyes and tried to see it clearly, and you're shocked that iwaizumi hajime was standing outside his house at 2:30 am, wearing only his sweater and sweatpants, he warmed his shivering hands by rubbing them; fatigue engraved on his worn face.

...

"...what the heck, something is not right."

2009, October 11.

"(y/n)-chan, hanami-chan! let's go to the volleyball gym to see them practice!" akane whined as she hugged us from behind, and stomped her foot like a child that wasn't getting what they wanted. you sighed as you turned around to hanami, the girl crossed her arms over her chest, still contemplating whether she should accompany her friend or just go back home and sleep. without a second thought, she then took her school backpack and faced akane, giving her a cheeky grin before she left the classroom.

"b-but please..." she grabbed her wrist, begging her to stay.

"if (y/n) is staying then i will be staying, too."

even though you have better things to do at home, you just couldn't say no to your friends. and plus, you wanted to check up on iwaizumi. your brow furrowed as you rubbed your temples, recalling the moment last night; it wasn't a dream. you thought it was you who was hallucinating, it was midnight after all - but when you looked at him from afar, it was him, iwaizumi hajime was standing there, it's like he was counting stars or something. it was awfully cold yesterday and nobody will just go out without a scarf like that, the more you think about it; the more you think that iwaizumi hajime was hiding something, and it makes you suspicious. akane and hanami were throwing insults at each other again, you couldn't care less about it; as you're trying to analyse about the situation last night.

the familiar low thudding sound echoed through the volleyball court, twelve people were playing volleyball at the center of the gym, six in green uniforms versus six in blue. there were a lot of girls sitting on the floor, cheering and screaming their names. akane squealed and grabbed both of your hands - as she grinned widely, and sat on the floor. hanami and you exchanged glances and let out a sigh. akane gets excited easily especially when she sees someone attractive. she couldn't stop talking about them and this girl won't hesitate to take pictures of them and make it as her collection. frankly, you're not like the other girls, or like akane. you've passed that phase long ago, and it was not a big deal when you're talking to one of the hot guys in school, you just...don't care, and you're focusing more on yourself and many other things that you think it's important.

the girls were screaming again when it was time for oikawa to serve.

"oikawa san! you are the best!"

"he's so handsome! look at him-"

hanami rolled her eyes and turned away, you could clearly see that she was frustrated and annoyed at the same time, she was fuming; and you thought that her ears were in danger of turning into smokestacks. you didn't understand why she was acting in this way, and you tried many ways to comfort her, but to no avail; she was still pissed. akane was smiling dreamingly when matsukawa blocked one of his opponents, she quickly waved at him when he was looking towards her direction.

he just nodded.

"i think he likes me." akane squeezed your wrist and let out a giggle. you laughed at her optimistic behaviour, she was always that cheerful and energetic, she's that kind of friend that you can actually rely on, she was always positive; which you liked her a lot. hanami, on the other hand, was really rational. she hates it when akane asks her about love relationships, basically everything about love, she said that it was a waste of time. hanami was neutral, and her personality was really straightforward, brutally honest about her own opinions and her feelings; and very stubborn. you loved them, you loved all of them, you loved it when they always attacked you with hugs, it was something that you never experienced before, and yet you're given another chance to feel alive again.

"nice one, iwaizumi!" one of the seniors ruffled his hair, and he just smiled in response. this was strange, iwaizumi would normally exchange high fives with all of them. he took a deep breath, then using a blue towel to wipe off his sweats. you're starting to worry about him, he had never been absent-minded before, and the dark circles under his eyes were so obvious.

suddenly, a ball flew towards your direction and hanami stood up and dodged it just in time. iwaizumi yelled at oikawa, and oikawa screamed, their seniors tried to calm everyone down, the fan girls - once again, were shouting and yelling at each other, and the scene was really, chaotic.

what's worse? the coach was nowhere to be seen.

"trashykawa!"

"stop calling me that!" he pouted angrily.

"you almost hit them! you gotta be focus-" iwaizumi retorted.

"i-it's not my fault when hana-chan is looking at me! it's dis-distracting!" the brunette blurted out, and he immediately covered his mouth. everyone was dumbfounded, and oikawa was blushing heavily as he looked at hanami, the girl clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, a blush spreading across her face. her eyes - her eyes were filled in embarrassment, her hands rubbing on her skirt, hanami had never gotten into this situation before; and oikawa was basically getting into her nerves. a tiny furrow appeared on your head, this exact moment was definitely too cliche for you; typical high school love and puppy love romance, which you've experienced many years ago, witnessing this entire scene again made you shivered slightly.

no, you didn't feel excited at all.

"uhm...i'm too old for this..." you mumbled slightly, rubbing both of your arms, trying to rid yourself from goosebumps.

just then, hanami cracked her knuckles and yelled at oikawa; "fuck you, oikawa! go get your eyes checked!"

───

iwaizumi walked back home without telling you.

after the practice match was over, oikawa dragged you outside the court and ranted at you about hanami, his love relationships and begging for advice, and frankly, you really wanted to excuse yourself and find iwaizumi, but the brunette was whining and complaining about his problems; which you have no choice but to listen to him. you found oikawa somewhat amusing, even though he was always up to no good, very cunning and an absolute prick, but oikawa was actually not a bad person; it's just sometimes - he didn't know how to express his emotions.

"i hate autumn, it makes me all gloomy and sad." - oikawa.

you sighed, putting your hands in your blazer pocket while walking back home. you agreed to his statement, autumn made you feel lonely and depressed, the falling leaves and bare trees - and the atmosphere was totally different compared to summer and spring. the colours were less vibrant, and it was not as refreshing as these two seasons - when you saw flowers blooming and beautiful grasslands, smelling the pine trees as the warm sun drew out their fragrance, you felt happier; it makes you feel at ease. summer and spring give off lighthearted vibes, and you also believed that warm seasons made your mind rest and become refreshed.

in contrast, autumn is a bittersweet season.

it reminds you of both teenagers falling in love when they first met each other, walking among the flower fields, watching the sunset on the beach, and laughter and chatter fill the air - when the weather starts to get colder, it all felt like a daydream, flowers stopped blooming, leaves falling, the once vibrant colours turned dull and monochromatic, only reddish, orange and brown, they said spring and summer is a season of cliches; you could hear birds singing and bee buzzing, it's love in the air - when it comes to autumn, then it's not the case. it's a repetitive cycle, autumn means ever-approaching endings, a threat of frost creeping in anytime, heartbreaking events, romantic love fades away and forms a bittersweet memory that can only be kept inside your heart.

you dislike autumn.

a crunching sound could be heard when you're stepping on these dry leaves, you frowned as you kicked away some of the branches along the pathway, you're worried about him, and you knew that something was up when he just ditched you and didn't inform you that he'll be leaving the court first, which made you feel anxious. "autumn is definitely a stupid season." you mumbled.

you passed by a big field, and you saw iwaizumi hajime sitting on a bench.

you let out a long sigh, slowly approaching him and put your bag beside him, you crossed your arms over your chest and eyed him curiously. "oi, what is wrong...with you..." your voice trailed off when you saw his puffy red cheeks and swollen eyes, he quickly stood up and avoided eye contact with you, iwaizumi hajime didn't expect that - absolutely not expecting that you're here, he felt ashamed, and you wouldn't expect that he had fallen to such a state. "what are you doing here?" he spoke in a harsh tone, grabbing his backpack and trying to leave, you quickly pulled his arm and dragged him to sit beside you.

"you're so stubborn, tell me about it."

"i have nothing to say."

"bullshit. i saw you standing outside your house yesterday at 2 am," you spat.

"you what?!" iwaizumi was surprised, looking at you in disbelief. "how did you know -" you interrupted him while he was speaking, "iwaizumi hajime, i'm serious here, i'm worried about you, what happened? you know you can always talk to me." you said, hugging your backpack and waiting for him to speak. he sighed, and took a deep breath, "my parents want a divorce, some sort of thing...then...uh...it makes me overwhelmed?...ah, forget it, i don't speak to anyone about this..."

iwaizumi hajime hates himself for being weak.

"oh, so you think that pushing your feelings away will sort out your problems? do you think acting strong is the best way to overcome your issues? we all are humans, crying is just an expression, there's nothing wrong with it, you know?" you grabbed his wrist gently and continued, "you said it makes you overwhelmed, and that's fine. it's understandable, you shouldn't keep everything to yourself, showing your weakness doesn't define you, iwaizumi." he bit his lip harshly, in a weak attempt to stop his tears flowing out from his eyes, though he tried, the stored tears continued to flow and the sobs wracked his body, robbing it of the ability to speak. iwaizumi was strong, he was tough, your heart aches when he was breaking down right in front of you, to think that he's been going through a lot of problems by himself makes you want to stay by his side.

when you looked up to the night sky, the stars were glowing brightly, each one was more of a golden yellow orb, and it was different from the stars that you've usually seen for the past few weeks, which their colours were slightly misty and white; a typical autumn night. but today was different, the moon was shining in the middle of blazing stars, definitely a picturesque view. you turned around and looked at him, he closed his eyes, a rattled sigh passing through his parted lips as he did so.

it was a cold autumn night.

"i'm sorry," he spoke softly.

"for what?"

"uh...i didn't wait for you today because i saw you're talking to oikawa, i didn't want to bother you." you let out a laugh, and then you put your hand over your mouth as you found it hilarious and adorable. iwaizumi frowned and pouted angrily, his ears were completely red due to embarrassment.

"i'm serious, i'm sorry."

"it's fine, iwa-chan, please don't ditch me again, i feel lonely," you replied, mimicking oikawa's tone. he smiled, shaking his head, "you are so annoying."

maybe you're older than iwaizumi, maybe you have experienced many shitty things throughout your teenage years, and maybe you have an abusive family that makes you sympathize with those people who're experiencing the same thing as you - more specifically, family issues. when you looked at iwaizumi again, he looked exhausted. you knew exactly how he felt, you knew that it was hard to deal with these things alone, the more you thought about it, you began to feel depressed.

and that's what you feel about autumn; a series of heartbreaking events.

"let's walk back home together," he said.

when he stood up, you pulled iwaizumi into a tight embrace.

"...i'm always here for you."

#haikyuu #haikyuufic #iwaizumihajime #iwaizumi x reader #moonboofic #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumific

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justlookatthosesausages · 5 years ago

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“In the eye of the storm” ◊◊◊◊ a post-Frozen 2 fanfic ◊◊◊◊ CHAPTER 5: Precipitation

Several days later, they didn't get any news from Anna, and it drove Elsa nervous to no end.

When Eydis was walking by her in the castle, she smiled and waved at her, but the Snow Queen was lost in her daydreams.

One afternoon, Kristoff found Elsa in a bedroom, looking at the rain through the window. He was right when he knew where to head to; the blonde always had a tendency towards quiet rooms with windows for introspection.

"Are you upset?"

Elsa saw him enter in his reflection on the glass, so she didn't startle at his presence.

"Why do you ask?" She muttered.

"You're snowing. I mean... It's snowing. Around your head."

Elsa gasped and waved her hand at the thankfully light snow that had fallen on the carpet. It melted right away, and Kristoff stared at her.

"You're overthinking or upset about something."

The blonde looked down and didn't answer anything else than a sigh, not feeling in the mood to share. He tried humor to light up the moment.

"Funny how it's easy to tell the difference between those snowflakes and the ones you make for Bruni. If he were there, I'm sure he would find their taste different."

Elsa chuckled at last. The little guy obviously would. Those snowflakes were created with an opposite mood; instead of given to him as a treat gift, they were falling unintentionally and due to sadness.

"Do you wanna talk?" Suggested the King, coming near her.

"...Maybe." Finally said Elsa.

"About the Spirits being in conflict or Anna going abroad?"

He could hear Elsa gulp.

"Both?"

The blond put a loving hand on her shoulder. She was still cold, but he didn't care.

"I can't tell you much advice about the Spirits. All I can tell, from my raised-by-trolls point of view, is that magic can be very confusing. And sometimes, you might think something is the way it is, and it actually isn't at all. Mom- Hum, Bulda... She reads emotions in color crystals and can sometimes tell future by the way northern lights move, but she once told me that it's sometimes unreliable."

He smiled, happy to support her, then he realized at how his revelation wasn't really reassuring, and he winced when he saw the side look Elsa gave him.

"Uh... I mean..."

He sighed, dropping his head. "Never mind. I'm not that good at helping magic people."

She had a smile at the corner of her lips. "Quite the opposite, Kristoff. I know you care, and it already lifted my mood a bit."

The blond smiled too. Elsa looked through the window again.

"I know that, even if I still can't tell what is going on with Gale and Nokk, I can still count on your encouragement."

"Anytime."

He then realized that she had included Anna in that 'you'. The King scratched his beard before daring to approach the other topic.

"Truth will come in time, I'm certain of it. Anna will do her part, and you will, and everything will fall into place."

Elsa's hand dramatically passed on the glass of the window. "I miss her already. I know you're here, it's not what I mean... And there's Eydis too... But..."

"Nothing's quite like Anna", understood Kristoff.

"Yes." Sighed Elsa, like it was a weight on her heart, even though everyone in her family knew that she had a special complicity with her younger sister. "And I can't help worrying for her, even if I know she's the strongest person in the world..."

"She'll be fine. You know she'll be fine, right? You're the person who has the most faith in her after me."

Elsa's eyes stopped watching the hills in the distance and she smiled to him again.

"Yes, I know. She could hold the entire world with her dedication." She stated, looking proud.

Her expression vanished a bit.

"She's a thousand times more qualified than me to be Queen."

Kristoff wanted to say she was wrong to reassure her, but it actually was an undeniable fact. Arendelle historians had repetitively told him that Anna already had more efficient decisions and better leadership than any of her predecessors on the throne.

A silence passed, and he noted that Elsa was staring at the hills of the East, the direction in which Anna had been heading. He turned to his sister-in-law with a soft expression.

"You know that despite the lack of news, she's going to come back home, right?"

"Yes, Kristoff, I know." Repeated Elsa once again, a bit upset at how he insisted on facts to take her out of her anxiety.

He noticed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude..."

"I'm aware that I'm overreacting and stressed at nothing. But I can't help it."

She sighed.

"Despite our years of separation in the castle when we were young, I always knew where she was. She was safe in the castle, and her safety was literally the only thing that mattered to me. And for the past 11 years, Gale could tell me if something was wrong anytime and almost instantly. They could even get to me in Ahtohallan or the furthest point in the Forest. Without Gale, I couldn't have known about that time you guys fell into a ravine, remember?"

Kristoff winced at the 2 years old memory. That family picnic had turned sour. "We still owe you one for that moment. Without your ice, the wagon explosion would have wiped us all. And I can't blame Olaf, he wasn't even there."

His humor didn't distract the Snow Queen. Her azure blue eyes were lost in the horizon.

"This is the first time in years that I don't know if Anna is safe or not. And it's nerve-wracking."

"Then forget her."

Elsa turned to him exaggeratedly. "Excuse me?"

The King was about to apologize and change his formulation, though he closed his mouth and stared at her.

"You seem taken aback by her absence. You kind of doubted that a national meeting would take place after she saw the stage of the storm, no?"

"Yes, but I thought that it would happen here, in Arendelle..." Murmured the blonde.

"Oooooh, that's why you're upset. You wanted her to stay here."

Elsa then sighed and buried her head in her hands, groaning.

"I'm such a selfish jerk..."

"No, you're not. Though, I have to admit, that supposition you made in your head was a bit mean for neighbor kingdoms' leaders who you had no guilt to imagine going through the storm until here..." Winced Kristoff. "But I swear you're not selfish, Elsa. You're sincerely one of the most altruistic persons I ever met. And I married someone who keep sacrificing her life for what's good."

A silence followed, and Elsa cried at the thought of Anna's dedication.

"I don't deserve to be her sister..."

She started to sob, and Kristoff hurried to put his hand on her back, slightly rubbing it.

"Hey, hey, don't you dare. She's nothing without you."

He then scoffed at how that sounded. "I mean... Well, you know."

The Snow Queen didn't move. The blond bent his head to find Elsa's gaze and make her look at him, a technique Anna had told him about for when she would have a breakdown. "Elsa."

"What?" She muttered with a sniff.

"You two complete each other no matter the distance. As strong sisters with an unbreakable bond, but also as the Bridge."

Elsa took a moment to let that sink in. "I know."

The King smiled, and he looked through the window along her.

Someone softly knocked at the door.

"Your Majesty... Lady Elsa..." Said Gerda's gentle voice, and they turned around. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Don't mind me, I'm just going to pick up Elsa's empty plate..." She then paused. "But I see that you actually haven't touched it."

Kristoff looked at the meal left on a coffee table by the door.

"Yes... I'm not very hungry." Murmured Elsa.

She had turned back to the window swiftly, and both Kristoff and the maid couldn't tell if it was because she had suddenly seen something in the horizon, or to hide her tears.

Elsa felt guilty for the silence that followed. She turned around again.

"Sorry for refusing those waffles, Gerda. They smell really nice, and it must have taken you a long time to bake them."

"Oh, it's not lost. Far from it. I know a little princess who'll get very hungry after her afternoon lesson."

Elsa smiled at her kindness. "She definitely inherited from her mother's gluttony."

Kristoff giggled in approval.

"I wonder if the languages teacher will quit after teaching both Anna and Eydis." Wondered Gerda. "When I passed by the living room's door an hour ago after making the beds, I heard her ask him to translate 'anvil' in every language he knew."

The Snow Queen burst of laughter, which wasn't very regal, but the servant and the King didn't mind at all; first because Elsa technically didn't have to mind about royal mannerisms anymore, and second because they had missed Elsa's laughter within those walls.

"Her passion for handiwork is not a thing she inherited from Anna, though." Laughed the blonde.

They all chuckled, and Kristoff was delighted to see happiness back on her features.

"Alright then. I'm going to give the waffles to Eydis." Confirmed the maid, and she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Elsa looked at the door with the ghost of her smile still on her lips, and as the rain was getting stronger and stronger outside, Kristoff invited her to go near the fireplace with a gentle hand gesture.

They stood here for a moment, looking at the orange flames, and Elsa missed Bruni's pink ones. She wondered if the tiny Fire Spirit could help her decipher the others' behavior. But she chased that idea of her mind; the Northuldra needed him now, there was no way she would summon him in Arendelle. The Sami tribe needed his magic heat in that storm, and Bruni also was an excellent watchman. Or watchlizard.

Elsa's thoughts drifted to Honeymaren. She hoped that she was alright and took care of her people like she always did.

Kristoff looked at the clock of the room to check time. He then noticed that the blonde's eyes were glistening. However, was it because of emotion or due to staring directly at the fire? He laid against the fireplace's mantel to be aligned with her.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I do, yes. Thank you for your help."

The King frowned and squinted. He knew Elsa enough years to tell when she had something on her mind. Her voice was different.

"Elsa, are you sure that it's all good now?"

"Yes."

She purposely wasn't looking up at him, still staring at the fire, the brightness of it reflecting in her eyes.

"I have to go find Kai, so we do an overview of the afternoon. Just don't do anything unwise and stay safe, okay?"

"Okay, I will."

He hugged her, then exited the room.

Elsa's gaze got lost in the flames, her jaw clenched. She had lied to her brother-in-law. She was going to go find Anna.

=======

The blonde patiently waited for the night to fall and Kristoff to go read a bedtime story to his daughter. Then she sneaked out of the castle, crafting herself a hood made of snow and ice to hide her face as she reached to the stables under the pouring rain.

When the servants there recognized her approach because only one person in the world could be wearing such a magically bright white outfit at this time of the day, she noted that her idea wasn't that clever.

Elsa excused herself as she made her way in, and assured them all to not be alerted as she requested for the fastest horse in the stables.

"Do you really want to go in such a rainfall at that time of day?" Asked one servant.

"Your Highness, are you certain?" Worried a stable boy.

"You shouldn't do such a thing." Advised another one.

She forced herself to smile. "Just indicate me the best horse there is, please."

The servants looked at each other, to dedicated and polite to contradict their ex-monarch.

"Alright. This way." Said a hostler.

She followed him to one of the boxes of the back. He showed Elsa a tall horse, who wasn't bigger than the horses on each side of it, but it looked muscular and definitely had an athletic body shape.

"Here's the fastest we have, Your Highness."

Elsa forgot for a moment the urgency of her plan and dove in the sight of the beautiful stallion. It was entirely brown and had an undeniable royal aura, like it had been waiting for this task all its life.

The Snow Queen had a serious face until now, but started to melt in a smile.

"Hello you."

She walked forward, and lifted a careful hand. The horse blinked as it inspected it, sniffed it, and willingly nuzzled in her palm.

Maybe Honeymaren was right. Maybe she had a natural predisposition for animals. It was true that the blonde now felt like she was connected to Nature, and she was persuaded it was an illusion due to the fact she was embracing her magical powers and Fifth Spirit duty. However, she understood in that moment that there was a true link between that horse and her. Was it destiny? Or shared kindness, which was often a starting point on why Elsa spoke to wild animals in the Enchanted Forest?

She kept smiling and gently passed a hand on its head.

"I've never seen you here... It's a new horse?"

The servant saluted her sense of observation. "Indeed. He just arrived yesterday. He's a foal who recently finished his training and education to be in the royal guard. I was there all along his progress. Trust my words, lady Elsa; this is the fastest horse in all Arendelle."

Elsa carefully listened to all he had said, fascinated, but what mattered most than that to her was if the horse agreed to let her ride him.

"What's his name?" She asked, and she hadn't detached her eyes from him since the beginning.

"Rask."

Elsa smiled widely at the name. "...Rask."

She locked her gaze into his. "Looks like you were destined to this day, uh? This is too many coincidences."

The horse lifted and lowered his head like he was actually nodding, and she chuckled. Slowly, very slowly, and only after making sure he was agreeing, she approached her forehead to his muzzle, and softly touched there with closed eyes.

All the servants stared at the scene in awe.

"You're ready?" Murmured Elsa, stepping back.

Rask neighed, so suddenly and powerfully that she actually winced with a smile, and all startled, because the stables had been silent until now with just their calm voices and the sound of the rain outdoors.

Before riding him, Elsa made sure that everything was alright with his health and cleanliness, then she only accepted the bare necessities when the hostler helped her getting him ready. She refused the saddle, telling the servant that she was used to ride Nokk bareback anyway – and being made of ice most of the time, she had been in the most extreme case – and declined the stirrups as well. It was a good thing to make the horse as free as possible for their very first ride.

"I'll only take the bridle." Concluded Elsa.

They all felt surprised by her choice, but nothing really surprised them about the Snow Queen anymore, so they obeyed and helped her to put the harness on. When the bit was put in his mouth, Elsa felt a pinch to her heart, but she had no choice.

After a while and carefully listening to all their instructions, the blonde walked with him outside and climbed up. She took a moment to get used to his side, for he didn't have quite the same proportions than the form the Water Spirit had chosen to take. At the sight of the rain, she stroked his mane.

"I'm sorry for the weather, dear. But I need you more than anything right now. Let's go check on my sister."

The horse twitched a bit, and it felt like a nod again. She wondered if he could actually understand her.

Elsa deeply thanked the servants and asked them to tell Kristoff and her niece that they shouldn't worry.

She then tapped her ankles against the stallion's sides, and they dashed forward on Arendelle's cobblestones in the dark of the night. As wind whistled to Elsa's ears and rain gushed on her hood, she felt a deep sensation of freedom. Only then she noted how much she had missed this; riding along the hills, taking in the fresh air and the power of her ride with the sound of hooves under her.

She grinned in happiness, her heart also filling with joy as she knew she would be much happier once she would be sure that Anna was alright.

In a few minutes, they were out of the village, and were crossing at full speed the countryside lands of the East toward Hitiheimr.

=======

If she were able to connect with Rask's soul as she did with Nokk, she would congratulate him on how fast he was. The young horse was clever enough to see obstacles in advance, jumping over tree trunks and other accidents that had happened due to the storm. Hopefully, the path was mainly clear, and as her sister had underlined it a few days ago, the road to the Eastern kingdom was easy, for how many times it had been traced by merchants. Despite the heavy rain and mud, her stallion pierced the night like an ice arrow that Elsa would shoot from her bow as she hunted. It was perfect.

Soon, Elsa felt glad to have accepted the bride, for she realized that she had the reflex to ask the horse mentally to turn right or left, before remembering she actually was supposed to tug the reins for directions.

Nokk missed her terribly. At least, with them, she didn't use force during rides. They had become more than just fellow Spirits; the Water one had a unique connection with her, being a one of a kind friend and ally, and she tried to forget them as she was on this 'normal' horse. Nevertheless, Elsa couldn't deny it: the riding sensation was completely different. It was odd to not feel Rask's needs, sensations, and mood. Elsa loved to know how happy Nokk was when they were racing against Gale down the valleys, how sassy he was when he saw a young Northuldra fall off a branch, or how caring he was when he bumped his back to help her stand after a long tiring day.

As she thought again about Nokk's and Gale's friendship, Elsa frowned. Sincerely, how and why did the two Spirits get so angry at each other? As far as she could remember, she had never seen them going further than teasing.

She shook her head as she remained focused on the trail. Unlike when riding the Water Spirit, she couldn't let them do the job entirely and rest on their back from time to time.

A few hours later, something shiny attracted her eye in front of her, and Elsa gasped when she spotted something in the mud of the lane.

She briskly tugged on the horse's reins to make him stop, and he neighed in surprise and pain. She couldn't apologize for the reason of her eagerness, but felt terrible for hurting him.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to pull that hard. I'm very nervous." She whispered to his ears, gently stroking his neck.

Rask forgave her, yet snorted to show his disagreement.

Elsa put him to a complete halt, going down and patting him as she slowly walked to the shining object. What was something like this doing in the wild?

Her eyes squinted through the curtain of rain as she approached, feeling instinctively attracted to the object. Dark clouds were hiding most of the moon, and there was no thunder, so Elsa only had little light. She only then realized that she had been riding in complete dark, too focused on heading straight forward to need a lantern.

The Snow Queen stood above the tiny glossy thing, which seemed less and less natural as Elsa inspected it, and she twirled her wrist to create a glow of blue magic. A snowflake the size of her fist popped from her palm and brightened the whole path, giving her a better vision of it and reflecting in Rask's curious eyes.

She crouched and touched the solid object with her fingers. The blonde felt that it was made of metal, and took it off the soil with ease, thanks to the rain softening it. Elsa's ice sandals were covered with it and her white pants and trains weren't much white anymore, but she didn't care. Her focus was entirely driven to the item, which was larger than she expected as she lifted it.

Turning it in her fingers and approaching the light of her magic to it, she rubbed her thumb over the motives and used the rain to take the dirt out of it, making it shine even more. She frowned with confusion, tilting her head. It was something familiar, yet that she felt like she hadn't seen much... It was the size of her hand and had a curved shape, and when she revealed the seven tips all decorated with embedded crocuses, she squealed in a loud gasp.

Her azure blue eyes widened, along the glow of her snowflake, which become more intense at her distress.

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redwoodrroad · 5 years ago

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tagged by

@krystha

to answer some guild wars 2 questions! putting it under a tag because i think it’ll get a little long <3 thank you for tagging me!!

1. Do you have an idea before or after creating a character? normally i have a basic frame for creating a character, but i primarily get most of the characterization beats after i’ve made them. i remember in making my dragon age characters, i had an idea for what they should look like, but i let the story take me through the types of people they would end up becoming, and for being my first introduction to making characters that would stick with me for many many years, i think i adopted the same process for making other game characters like my dragonborn and then my guild wars 2 fellas too

for instance, i knew when i first made Arkus way way back when the game first came out that i wanted a pretty green fella who threw fire, etc; then as i progressed through the character creation and through making personal story decisions, i realized i was being drawn towards a particular characterization for him, one that’s sort of a know-it-all who loosens up over the course of his arc, etc

2. Which race is your favorite to imagine a story about?

probably sylvari! there’s a lot of really interesting stuff about them, and i get a lot of soulmate vibes out of the dream ;u;

3. Which race is your favorite to customize?

i primarily play human and sylvari but dhfgdjfghk i really dont do a lot of customizing unless it’s for specific character purposes? im not sure i do have a favorite! all of my characters have an aesthetic or color scheme i attach to them, and i might update them sometimes to closer approach that aesthetic vision i have for them. Arkus is dressed in whites and teals with the occasional tiny detail of red, and his mounts follow a similar scheme (his raptor i actually made to look like the moon); Eridunis is dressed in red and gold with the occasional tiny detail of green, and his mounts, again, follow the same scheme, and some of them are made to look like the sun

across my other characters, ive done similar things, and i think theyre all really fun to customize in their own ways!

4. Does the profession play a role in the visual?

yes! although not always in like an obvious way. Arkus is a weaver, he uses a staff, he now has the bifrost, so his outfit in many ways matches that. Eridunis is a Reaper, he uses a greatsword, he now has sunrise, so that follows his sun motif.

5. Do you often use the same faces?

i dont have a lot of characters rip lol they all have pretty different faces. i have 2 sylvari, one guy and one girl; 2 humans, both guys but one is meant to look significantly older, so they have very different faces (and i made the older man out to look like a particular character from another game; 2 norn, both guys, one i modeled after my skyrim character and the other i definitely made to look very different; and 1 charr guy, so like. clearly he’s on his own haha

6. Do you often use the same skin colors?

for three of my human-looking characters, they have lighter skin, so i guess yes in that case, but two of them were based on other characters who themselves have light skin. the fourth is Eridunis, and i specifically designed him to look Cuban, to match my family

as for the sylvari, i definitely designed them to have very different aesthetics and very different skin colors. one is green, and the other is sort of purple-ish

7. Do you often use the same tattoos? only two of my characters have tattoos in guild wars 2, both of them definitely different

8. Do you use the sliders for the face or not? yes! i definitely adjusted some things around for i think most of my characters

9. Do you bother to pick colors for the starter armor or not? oh absolutely--like i said, i always have an aesthetic im going for with the character, and i might not actually know what that aesthetic is until i get to that stage of character creation. i try to make each very different anyway!

10. Do you pick carefully the choices for your character base story? for Arkus and Eridunis, yes; i always try very hard to choose things that will align with my ideas for their personalities. and i still wish we had those emotional responses too!! Arkus was always the diplomatic / crown persona; Eridunis was always the charismatic / heart persona with a little bit of the diplomacy later, as he gets more mature

11. If no, is it always the same choices (ie. easiest to complete)? for my other characters, i dont really do story stuff! so i tend to go with what’s easiest or what’s most neutral. although i did make the choice in Amnoon to side with Joko’s army once, and once without taking any help (my primary choice for Amnoon was to invite the Sunspears), only to forward that achievement in the hero panel

12. Do you not bother at all and only use a makeover kit once in game? ive only used makeover kits like..... potentially once. i used it to revamp my sylvari girl and give her a slightly different vibe. i like where my characters are at right now, but i’ve considered altering some of my other characters too a couple times. i might go through with it one day but im happy for now!

13. Do you like/use exclusive faces/hairstyles more? nope! i think i have an exclusive color on my aforementioned sylvari girl, but i’ve considered using an exclusive hairstyle for one of my nords, but i just havent decided it yet

14. Outfit or armor? both for different characters! Eridunis has worn the same outfit for some time now, but Arkus flits between several outfits and even one armor set (the outfits are for different environments, the armor is for when he’s in Research Mode). other characters i primarily have wearing armor, but most of them have like their “favorite outfit” that i might occasionally put them in

15. Do you stick with one armor for each character or do you change a lot? like i said in the last answer, Eridunis wears one outfit all the time and never changes (although i might update the colors sometimes); Arkus was wearing one armor set for a while and would wear an outfit in certain environments, and then i upgraded him to a different outfit, and most recently ive updated him to yet another outfit; the others i have even more flexibility with, i’ll sometimes change what they’re wearing if i find something i think will look good on them. sometimes i even look through the armor in the bank wardrobe, whether i have a skin or not, and i’ll internally plan out what i should work towards obtaining later

16. If yes, why? Is it for “RP” reasons or just aesthetic ones? aesthetic!

17. Do you have a timeline for your characters (ie. date of birth, armors throughout the story)? oh yes.... but only for Arkus and Eridunis primarily. Sibheal, my sylvari girl, sometimes fits in, but i haven’t worked out the details on her yet

18. Is there a title you use more than another? it changes from character to character, but yes for each

19. If yes, which one and why? Eridunis is “Romantic” but sometimes i put “Emissary of the Mad King” on him for halloween; other times i’ll use “The Inevitable” if im feeling spicy

Arkus is always “Archaeologist”, i know Morten is “Bounty Hunter,” and i believe Sibheal is “The Blazing Light.” the others i cant remember but i keep the same ones on them, each of them different from each other but mostly unchanging

20. What is a big difference from when you started the game to now in regard of characters creation (ie. going faster, going slower, making bold choices, settling on a particular style, etc)? again, i dont really create a lot of characters, but i’ve always taken my time... i think if anything it has become easier to settle on an aesthetic because i know i’ll be able to update things like armor and color later, to get closer to the vibe i envision. the last character i made was modeled after a character in a different game, so naturally i built his look to follow that particular aesthetic and wardrobe (after finishing character creation of course)

#thank you again for asking!!#i spent like well over an hour on this and had a lot of fun #redwoods words #gw2 #arkus tag #eridunis tag

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manggojooz · 6 years ago

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Pick A Side (14 - Final)

pairing: Taehyung x reader

word count: 1,870

genre: university!au; angst; romance; thriller; a lil bit of fluff

warnings: slight references to voyeuristic behaviour

taglist: @destiel1597 @mila271 @hopetookmysoul @ximaginx@honeyursosweet @coffeecupyoongs@bangtanbaesstuff@annoyingpessimist @betysotelo18 @okaysoplshelpme@igot7bangs @tahaing @mochi-and-co @somewhereinthestarss

“A collection of your choices is your life.”

At some point we all ask ourselves, “Where did it go wrong? When did it become like this?”

Eventually we realise that there is no answer, for each choice we make is but one link in an extended chain. What we do, what we do not do. What we choose, what we do not choose. What we say and what we do not say. Every single choice has led us to this moment. So how can we determine which is the choice that we can blame all of this on?

“I shouldn’t have trusted him...”, Jihyun weeps silently outside the police station.

“No... it’s not your fault Jihyun... If anything, I should have known when he was using me...”, you tried to comfort her.

“It’s neither of your fault, we all wouldn’t have been in this situation if I hadn’t been an idiot...”, Taehyung said

Jihyun looks at Taehyung and starts to reason with him that it has nothing to do with him at all.

You quietly thought to yourself, “How did it become this way? Did it start when Taehyung broke up with you? Was it really triggered by the argument you had with Jihyun over that bullying video? So was your past to blame for all of this? No, but this wouldn’t have happened if you had not meet Taehyung in the first place. And this wouldn’t have happened if Jihyun never met Haejoong either. Does this mean that it was wrong the moment all of us crossed paths?”

You were confused, very confused.

“Guys, there’s no point in saying all these now. Let’s just go... it’s been a long day”, you uttered exhaustedly.

A choice we make is like a photo etched onto film. It cannot be reversed. It cannot be changed. And we have to make such choices every day. There are no alternatives. Yet humans are fallible from the start. It is thus destined that we make mistakes.

---

The next day Taehyung and you returned to the police station to record your statements as to how Haejoong had locked you on the school rooftop and coerced Taehyung into recording a false confession.

As you were about to leave the station, Taehyung stopped abruptly. You followed his line of sight and it lands on Haejoong, his wrists bound by handcuffs and trudging slowly behind two police officers towards a caged van. Before Taehyung could catch you, you dashed across the foyer.

Thank goodness you still had the sanity to ask the officers for permission to speak to Haejoong and they reluctantly granted you just two minutes.

“Don’t you think you owe us an apology?”, you demanded.

“What for? I did nothing wrong. I was showing her the truth... in fact, I was showing all of you the truth”, he lamented.

“I hope the law punishes you enough for you to realise how wrong you are”, you snipped.

Haejoong only shakes his head, “People are often punished for doing the right things too, Y/N. Someday you will understand that I mean well... like I said, I never intended to hurt you.”

You shuddered when he said your name but felt someone hold gently onto your shaking hand.

“Leave him be”, Taehyung said to you as he came up from behind you. He turns to Haejoong, “Don’t ever apologise, they are kind-hearted and I am afraid that they may forgive you. You were never deserving of Y/N... or Jihyun. You will never deserve her”, Taehyung clenches his teeth and held onto your hand a little tighter.

Haejoong looks shaken, faintly. His features filling with a sadness you have never seen in them before. Perhaps Taehyung hit the right nail – the only punishment to Haejoong is that his choices has led him away from the one thing he wanted.

He did not say another word and turned back towards the barred vehicle behind him.

Humans are fixated, in fact overly-obsessed, with the notion of making the right choices. Every other movie will tell you to “do the right thing”. We audaciously presume that the choices that can be made in this world are categorised into “right ones” and “wrong ones”, just like how a developed photo is a positive and there must therefore be a negative on a film somewhere. And all we have to do is to pick the side with the right ones. That is not always the case, not for everyone.

---

The radio on the bus was having a lot of static disturbance but the music was country pop. You were looking out the window and you could see Taehyung’s reflection in it.

He was lost in thought, sitting next to you but looking out the window on the other side of the aisle.

“Hey... so um... where are we going?”, Taehyung muttered.

“We are going to get hit by stones...”, you answered.

“Huh?”, Taehyung was always rather spontaneous, but the bus was proceeding towards a particularly unfamiliar route and he would be happy to know at least something about the destination.

“Do you remember what you said to me when I asked you whether you would take my side even if I did something wrong?”, you asked him.

He tilted his head, eyes slanting upwards, thinking really hard.

“... if it can’t be fixed, then let’s suffer the consequences together. If you have to apologise, I’ll apologise with you. If the world throws stones at you, I’ll get hit together.”

Is this what he think it is?

“I’m visiting a friend. I go now and then, but I am never welcomed. I’m wondering whether it’ll be easier for me to face it if you are with me...”, your words were met with silence and an intense stare from Taehyung.

“There are two stops left before we reach, you still have two chances to run away if you want to”, you ended on a lighter note.

“Well, it’s not as if anyone would really throw stones at us, right?”, he smiles that same dorky smile and and you couldn’t help but feel better to have him next to you.

---

“Leave, don’t you see that you are burdening him when you keep coming to visit him? He doesn’t want to see you! Leave!”, a high-pitched voice pierces the hallways as you were shoved to the ground and Taehyung stumbles. After regaining his balance, he quickly kneels down to help you up but you did not budge.

“I won’t disturb him, he doesn’t have to see me. I just want to pass this letter to him... it’s not from me, it’s from another classmate”, you held out a tiny envelope with Jinho’s name written on the front.

The woman who had pushed you away snatches the envelope, tears it in half before throwing it at you. "This reminds me...”, she mumbles as she disappears into the nearest room, coming back shortly with a box in her hands.

“... take all these back with you...”, she hurls the entire content within the box onto you, inevitably hitting Taehyung with them too.

“Stop coming, we don’t want your apology”, her voice rumbles and the door crashes shut.

There was no one else left in the corridor except Taehyung and you, the floor surrounding you littered with photographs, letters, cards, charms and pendants brought or sent by you and your friends over the years.

And all choices have consequences – in some way or another, whether you intended it or not. Are you really picking someone’s side? Or are you merely choosing what consequences you are able to live with?

---

The lake behind the rehabilitation centre was no longer as frozen as it was before and the view was not as misty as it used to be.

“Oh, isn’t this the lake in your photos?”, Taehyung recognises the scenery as he approaches alongside you.

You just nodded. Every time after visiting Jinho you would end up at this lake and you imagined if you were drowning in it. If you were screaming in the middle and no one had heard you or saved you. You imagined the despair, and that is what you imagine Jinho must have felt. And then each time you were able to make the same choice again and again, that you will continue to come quietly, apologise silently, and let him decide if he was willing to let you in.

“But in the end, spring will come someday. The ice will melt and flow away”, you whispered. Taehyung turns to look at you sharply, surprised that you are recalling his words. “Thanks for telling me that... it meant a lot to me then... I will wait for the ice to melt and flow away, let’s hope it does happen someday, but if it never happens, at least I tried to do something about it”, you smiled back at him satisfied with your decision again.

You turn to walk back towards the bus stop and Taehyung stays standing by the lake, watching you, and deliberating. He feels that maybe it is finally time to ask you to consider giving the relationship a second shot.

“Y/N”, he finally calls out to you just as you walked into the shade of a young budding tree. You turned to face him and he slowly walks up to you.

“Isn’t spring nice? Even though the flowers were lost because of the winter, they get to bloom again in spring”, Taehyung marvels, still not quite decided on whether to make the proposition.

You looked up at the blossoming tree, not recognising what kind of flower it is.

“In the bigger picture it is probably a nice sentiment, but from the flower’s point of view, once it has wilted, then it will never bloom again...”, you replied.

This prompted you to take out a film camera from your bag and snap a photo of the flowers, the slow mechanical sounds from the rolling of the film permeating the air.

In that moment, Taehyung seems to have understood something.

There is never truly a second chance at anything. The flower that bloomed this spring, even though on the same tree, is never the same flower from the past spring. And therein lies the gravity of our choices.

He finally understands the difficulty and his inability to make certain choices in the past, but now he also knows that his inaction had then amounted to a choice as well. He sighed deeply, finally coming to terms that he too, has to face the consequences of his unintended choices.

You were puzzled by him, “Are you okay?”, you asked.

He inhaled as deeply as he sighed before replying, “I cannot say ‘let’s start again’, since the flower from last year has already wilted. I will not ask you to come back to me if you do not want to. My choices have led us here, and it’s only fair for it to be your turn. Whatever you choose, I will live with that. So, this time let me ask you instead, do you still want me as your boyfriend... or just a friend... or not even a friend? What do you want, Y/N? What will you pick?”

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twoidiotwriters1 · 5 years ago

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Written In The Stars XXIX (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Here’s ya boi Erick!! This is how I pictured him from 11 to 13y/o– If you know what references I’m doing I’ll be very embarrassed cause I’m not subtle at all but I hope you guys don’t know bc then I’ll be free of shame lmao. Sidenote- Do you know how freaking hard it was to find a gif where he looks this young? Most gifs he’s about 14-17 which is very useful cause I might need them for later, but c’mon I needed a baby Erick! So this is the best I could do lol, Enjoy!

Words: 2,569

Warnings: Too much cuteness. Kids are crushing and they don’t know what to do with all those feelings.

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Eleven: Secret Intentions.

Mel kept sending nervous glances at the Slytherin table during breakfast, eagerly waiting for the mail to arrive.

As promised, she hadn't told her friends who or how was she going to find out about what Malfoy said in his common room, she couldn't just walk up to Erick and ask him, so she'd written a short note asking him to meet her after breakfast and gave it to an owl that seemed conflicted with the fact that the girl was asking it to deliver a letter to someone who was inside the school.

She was anxiously eating everything she could just to have something to do and distract herself. Mel used to eat a lot when she was nervous, and Harry soon took notice of this.

"What are you going to do?" He whispered so neither Ron or Hermione could hear.

"I..." The owls arrived just in time, Mel followed them with her eyes fixed on one owl specifically, with black feathers on top of its head.

It landed right in front of Erick's plate, he looked at it curiously and took the note, reading it quickly. His eyes shoot up and found Mel's, a short nod was her only answer.

"I have to go-" Mel said tensely, standing up from her place, "to the bathroom."

"You alright?" Hermione asked her.

"Just ate too much- see you in class!"

She walked out of the Great Hall and straight into one the narrow halls that took her to the courtyard, at the time it was empty, all the students were currently having breakfast, since the weather was starting to get too cold to spend the mornings outside the castle.

She paced up and down the archway, planning on how to ask her friend about the heir without sounding too insulting.

"I must say," Erick said as soon as he arrived, "it's a nice change to be the one receiving notes"

Mel turned to face him, the note was on his hand and he wore an amused expression. He seemed to be in a good mood... and Mel was going to ruin it.

"I have to ask you a question, but I don't know how to ask it without being rude"

Erick's smile fade.

"Try me."

"My friends and I have been talking about what's been going on..."

"Of course you have..."

"And- well- it's just- we think..." Mel huffed, unable to say the rights things, "it just makes sense that the heir is one of your housemates"

A dreadful second passed.

"Really?" He pretended to be surprised. "Why's that?"

"If Slytherin's the one who made the chamber, the heir must be a Slytherin too, so shouldn't they be in his house as well?"

"Sharing blood is not the same as sharing a house," Erick replied shortly.

"What do you mean?"

"The heir could be in any house," He sat down at the base of a column, "it surprises me that you're the one that's asking me this"

"I'm not asking out of ignorance," Mel stated, "we think that certain someone might be it. I'm not saying your whole house is the problem. I asked you to come here so I could ask you about this person in particular."

"Then ask."

"Malfoy," Mel retorted, "he seemed especially happy when we found Mrs Norris hanging... has he mentioned something else about it now?"

"I have no idea," When he saw Mel's expression, he softened his tone. "I mean it, I don't say it to upset you. I don't spend much time in the common room nowadays..."

"Why?" Mel sat beside him.

"Malfoy’s not the only the one who's happy about this," He said in disgust, "you wouldn't believe the things I've heard lately..."

"You haven't heard anything in particular?"

"Not that I'm eager to participate in their discussions," he said, "and I don't pay much attention to what they say most of the time- I swear I'm not lying-"

"I believe you," Mel sighed, "I'm sorry you have to hear those awful things"

"I'm sorry I'm not being helpful," He showed a tiny, sad smile, "but if it makes you feel better, I'm not good for anything lately... It'd be a bit ironic if I helped the heir– out of all people..."

"What do you mean?"

Erick huffed, mist coming out of his mouth and nose from the icy weather.

"You'll laugh."

"I won't.”

He glanced at her and for the first time, Mel noticed uncertainty. Something in his expression showed that he was afraid.

She stretched her hand hesitantly but stopped half-way. Would it be too much? Perhaps. She lowered it and tucked it in her pocket.

Erick gathered the courage to continue, shivering lightly from more than just the freezing air.

"My family lives near a farm– several, actually– but that one's closer than the others–" He shook his head, "I’m not allowed to leave the house when I'm back from school, my whole life was inside the house."

Mel stayed silent, afraid of saying the wrong thing that would make him stop talking.

"Then one day my mum asked me to pick something from the garden– it was just a moment– but then..." He took a deep breath, she could tell he was immensely affected by the memory. "There was this girl nearby... she was..."

Mel stared at the boy intently. The way Erick had said it, she knew. The way he blushed and stuttered, she knew what he'd felt when he saw the girl.

"When did this happen?"

"A year ago," He fumbled with his hands. "I didn't mean to, but she was just there, walking near the fence... My father was away and my brother was sleeping, there was no way my mum–" He shook his head, terribly conflicted. "I talked to her only for a second– I shouldn't have, but it was only a second..."

"What's her name?"

"Anne," She was sure he didn't mean to, but he smiled when he said it.

"Anne?" Mel beamed. "It's beautiful..."

"And not allowed," Erick looked back at her. "Not in my family, at least. She's not even a witch– She's just– She's-"

"A muggle," Mel sighed. "But you like her?"

"I don't know," Her friend replied. "What happened... that's why I decided to befriend you. I don’t know if you think you’re happy, but you look happy most of the time and you lived your whole life as muggle until you found out you were a witch, right? I thought you'd help me see that... that muggles aren't what my family says they are."

"What do they say?"

"Same as Malfoy," He stood up hastily and leaned on the archway, looking away from her. "Same as everyone in that bloody house–" His eyes went back to hers, pleading. "I don't know who the heir is, but I hope you and your friends find a way to stop them."

"And?"

"Nothing," Said Mel, voice hoarse, "my plan was unsuccessful."

"Brilliant," Ron huffed, leaning back on the chair, "We only have one option now, but if I'm honest, this Polyjuice stuff sounds a bit dodgy to me. What if we were stuck looking like three of the Slytherins forever?"

"It wears off after a while," said Hermione impatiently. "But getting hold of the recipe will be very difficult. Snape said it was in a book called Moste Potente Potions and it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library."

"Hard to see why we'd want the book, really," said Ron, "if we weren't going to try and make one of the potions."

"I think," said Hermione, "that if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance..."

"Oh, come on, no teacher's going to fall for that," said Ron. "They'd have to be really thick..."

Mel and Ron shared a look, a smile appearing on their faces.

"Lockhart."

Lockhart was a brainless wizard- but oh, did Mel enjoy Harry's acting whenever Lockhart asked him for help to reenact his doings.

This time he was a lovely little werewolf, and Mel was having the time of her life.

"I'm- oh my- I'm about to pee my pants-" She whispered to Ron, covering her mouth with both hands and shaking in her chair, "I shouldn't, I really shouldn't be laughing-"

"Poor Harry," Ron agreed, but he was also holding back, "I hope this is worth it, cause if Lockhart doesn't sign Harry'll be pissed."

"Oh, he'll agree," Mel replied, "he won't say no to his dearest student- oh look! Harry's howling..."

Both kids sank in their chairs, laughing to the scene unfolding in front of them. They were quiet, but anyone who'd be paying attention could see their little figures trembling with contained chortles. It was a relief that Lockhart was too busy being the star of his own show.

The bell rang and everyone rushed to gather their things.

"Homework - compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!"

"Oh no, what would I do without it?" Mel snorted, picking her bag and looking at Harry with a teasing smile on her face, "There he is! You've got some skills, Glasses, what an actor you are-"

"Don't mention it," Harry glared at her, "not a word about this in the future, understood?"

"I won't say a word unless you give a good reason," She grinned, standing in front of him.

"I'll try to keep you happy," He nodded.

They stood there just looking at each other for a few seconds, then Harry's eyes flicked to the side and his smile dropped.

"Right," He cleared his throat, "ready?"

"If you're done ogling at Mel, yes," Ron raised his eyebrows.

"He was not... ogling" Mel suddenly felt very interested in the zipper of her bag.

"Ready?" Harry whispered.

"Wait till everyone's gone," said Hermione nervously. "All right..."

She approached Lockhart's desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand, Harry, Mel, and Ron right behind her.

"Er - Professor Lockhart? I wanted to - to get this book out of the library. Just for background reading. But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it - I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venoms-"

"Ah, Gadding with Ghouls!" said Lockhart, taking the note, "Possibly my very favorite book. You enjoyed it?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione's attitude changed drastically. "So clever, the way you trapped that last one with the tea-strainer -"

"Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving the best student of the year a little extra help- and of course, you could help Miss Dumbledore to improve as well- she barely participates at all during class- I believe she's having a hard time retaining information," said Lockhart 'secretively' to Hermione, as if Mel wasn't right there.

He signed the paper and gave it back.

"So, Harry," said Lockhart. "Tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you're a useful player. I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players..."

"I don't believe it," Harry said as the three of them examined the signature on the note once they were outside, "He didn't even look at the book we wanted."

"That's because he's a brainless git," said Ron. "But who cares, we've got what we needed -"

"He is not a brainless git," said Hermione shrilly as they approached the library.

"Just because he said you were the best student of the year-"

"Hermione, he practically called me stupid right at my face," Mel was already used to his insults, she couldn't bring herself to care anymore, "Sure, I may not be the brightest, but that doesn't mean I can't tell one end of my wand from the other-"

"You're not dumb," Harry interrupted, "and you don't need extra help at all"

"I know that," She smiled, "don't worry, I'm not vexed about this, I decided to just mute him out"

Mel and Hermione hurried inside. The little girl didn't get to see Ron's teasing smile, or Harry trying and failing to kick the boy's ankle.

"Moste Potente Potions?" she repeated suspiciously, trying to take the note from Hermione; but Hermione wouldn't let go.

"I was wondering if I could keep it," she said breathlessly.

"Oh, come on," said Ron, wrenching it from her grasp and thrusting it at Madam Pince. "We'll get you another autograph. Lockhart'll sign anything if it stands still long enough."

Now in Moaning Myrtle's toilets, the children decided to start to review the plan.

"Here it is," Hermione pointed to the page and everyone leaned in to read it, "this is the most complicated potion I've ever seen. Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass... Well, they're easy enough, they're in the student store- cupboard, we can help ourselves... Oooh, look, powdered horn of a bicorn - don't know where we're going to get that - shredded skin of a boomslang- that'll be tricky, too and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into."

"Excuse me?" said Ron. "What d'you mean, a bit of whoever we're changing into? I'm drinking nothing with Crabbe's toenails in it -"

"We don't have to worry about that yet, though, because we add those bits last..."

"D'you realize how much we're going to have to steal, Hermione? Shredded skin of a boomslang, that's definitely not in the students' cupboard. What're we going to do, break into Snape's private stores? I don't know if this is a good idea..." Harry shook his head in worry.

"Well, if you two are going to chicken out, fine," Hermione said. "I don't want to break rules, you know. I think threatening Muggle-borns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, I'll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in"

Perhaps the boys couldn't see it, but Mel knew why Hermione was being so aggressive. She was a muggle-born- The girl was scared, even if she didn't want to admit it, she feared for her life.

"I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be persuading us to break rules," said Ron. "All right, we'll do it. But not toenails, okay?"

Mel, who had taken the book while her friends were arguing, suddenly realized the next problem.

"Mione," She looked up, "how long do you think it'll take?"

"Well, since the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days... I'd say it'd be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients."

"A month?" Ron's eyes widened, "Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then! ...But it's the best plan we've got, so full steam ahead, I say."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @mikariell95 @thesuitelifeofafangirl @omiwashere @tomshollandz @steve-thotgers @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland

#twoidiots writing #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x reader #ron weasley #hermione granger #WITT fic

31 notes · View notes

kob131 · 5 years ago

Text

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7txJGzFpifw

30 seconds. That’s how long it took for me to get mad at this review.

“We start the episode post-argument where it’s explained Atlas’ borders are closed. Then the military guards suddenly change their minds and decide the group can speak to their commanding officer, Caroline Cordovon.”

The very first thing about the episode and we already have a problem.

The guard’s change wasn’t sudden- They changed when they saw Weiss.

Qrow: Hey, if you don't wanna believe that I'm friends with Ironwood--

Both Nubuck Guards: General Ironwood!

Qrow: Yeah, General Ironwood, then fine. But look, we have Weiss Schnee with us and we're trying to get her home safely.

Weiss looks down with reluctance upon hearing Qrow say that. The two guards look to each other before turning their attention back to the group.

Both Nubuck Guards: Approach!

Weiss shares a look with Blake Belladonna, who just shrugs. Weiss then walks up to the gate and the two guards step up and bend down to inspect her. After a moment, both guards stand straight back up.

Both Nubuck Guards: Very well!

Guard Nubuck 2: You may speak with our commanding officer!

Guard Nubuck 1: We will fetch her at once!

Considering her tone and the video title- I expect to at least go a minute without an issue.

“We then spend about two minutes and a half doing nothing as Cordo just says random shit as opposed to saying why the kids aren’t allowed in.”

A. We already know why they aren’t allowed in- They want into Atlas, Ironwood says no. This stated BEFOREHAND. The reason why Cordovon came out was to see Weiss.

Something you’d know if you paid attention before.

B. Cordovon isn’t saying random shit- it’s demonstrating her character which is important since this is the ONLY time we see her before she busts out the mech so we need to know why the character would do it NOW.

Seriously, this is pretty god damn important. Well at least it can’t get wor-

“Then Cordovon drops some odd racism-”

...

All that bitching about the Fanaus not being discriminated against...and how Atlas wasn’t built up enough...this line does BOTH...and gets bitched at.

Are you starting to see why I’m surprised RWBY improves at all?

“Ruby wanders outside to find Maria, who tells her to sit down and tell her about her eyes a bit. Maria spends most of her speech telling us about her backstory and barely touches on the eyes.”

A. Again, character building. Even worse here since the character building is about her father (the previous eye warrior), emphasises that her training and Semblance are more important and explains why the Silver eyed warriors aren’t so well known.

B. She also scolds Ruby for beating herself up over Jaune and Oscar (I skipped over her explaining that because it was worth less than what she says the episode is) which is pretty important to a character like Ruby.

C. About half the talk is about the eyes, she doesn’t just ‘barely touch on it’ since it sets the rules for the eyes (Ruby needs to think about what she wants to protect, only works in presence of Grimm). This isn’t nearly as worthless as you treat it.

“Why start the episode at the conclusion of an argument then just pick it back up immediately? Yang’s line at the beginning must be very accurate because it looks like they saw the kids walking up and closed the gates. It’s just a very clunky way to start the episode.”

... When was it said or shown that the argument had ended? Yang’s line ( Come on! You didn't even hear us out!) can be applied in both situations. While the guards line imply they know why they’re there, thus there must have been a talk,... Team JNPR is there, they can infer why they are there.

“This entire scene with Cordovon is trying so hard to be funny and fails every time. The jokes land about as well as Jaune does-”

Okay, you really shouldn’t make a bad joke when in the middle of complaining about bad jokes unless it’s an intentional example. I know it’s not because you never use it as an example. In fact, I find your joke worse because you do the cringey ‘GET IT?!’ punchline with a weird metal rift in the back so it just...fails at the punchline even though just playing Jaune’s audio in that scene would have actually worked.

“And the pauses for laughter are just filled with utter silence.”

... Did it never occur to you the punchline is the silence? As if everyone is so flabbergasted at Cordovon’s actions no one knows how to act? You really should show a joke instead of talking over it.

“I spend half my time in this scene screaming ‘just fucking go already!’“

That explains your utter failure regarding this scene.

“How did the guards not notice Weiss? Why did they need her to come closer to know it’s her?”

They’re trying to get inside and Weiss never spoke while an angry blonde is yelling at them. People don’t act like computers.

“How does Maria know it’s Cordo who runs this place?”

Maria: Oh, yes. I come through here about once every ten years to get my eyes checked up in Atlas. You bring outside cashews on one flight, and suddenly you're placed on the additional screening list for life!

Where you screaming over this line too?

“Why did she not inform everyone she was utter rivals with the commander they’re trying to work with?”

Ruby: (mouth stuffed) Well... (takes a gulp) We're trying to make our way to Atlas. We'll probably start with the military base.

She wasn’t expecting to deal with her.

“And it takes so long-”

11 seconds. From Maria talking Ruby down (being generous since she bitches about the group guessing what they are) to Maria confirming they’re enemies.

11 seconds. Standard joke procedure too.

This just makes you look impatient.

“Dragging it’s feet as it pretends having Maria yell is the same as having a joke-”

She says as the animation with Maria shows comical facial expressions and the audio implies a random incident with cashews, common joke technique.

This reminds me of something I learned about media and the relationship between creators and audience: it’s a lot like bartering. The creators offer you something you want and the audience pays with suspension of disbelief and patience. Some creators ask too much, we’re well aware of them (like M. Night.)

However, the audience or members of it can also demand too much. Like refusing to accept anything except for a certain thing done a specific way at a specific time or demand stuff not what the creator intends to sell. Criticism videos believe it or not have something similar, offering insight and more for good faith.

Twiinks sounds like she’s being pissy about what she is given in an unfair fashion and because of a lack of insight, I am not willing to give any good faith in turn.

“The only saving grace in this mind numbing mess is the one tiny joke that actually lands.”

... But it’s effectively the same joke as the one you chewed out. In fact, it had more dead air in it than the others. Also since you just showed you have the audio it REALLY doesn’t excuse your lack of examples so far.

“DO SOMETHING!”

They did, right before. You cut out the audio. And this is the same dead air you praised before.

Do you just not understand how to dissect jokes?

“Why is Maria arguing with Cordovon?-”

They JUST said they hate each other and Cordovon just insulted her. No, I don’t care you said they need to work with each other- You’re demanding they sacrifice character for plot as everyone bitches they do too much plot.

“How does Cordo know they’re connecting to RNJR? She hadn’t seen them in the distance before-”

Dunno, they asked the same thing while acting like they tried to get in before?

“Presenting the only other good joke of the episode-”

THE SAME TYPE OF JOKE YOU CHEWED OUT BEFORE. LITERALLY THE SAME. SAME SETUP, SAME EXECUTION, SAME PUNCHLINE.

“Honestly based on this one joke, it’d be funner to see RNJR interact with Cordo instead of this slog-”

And based on the video so far, it wouldn’t do a damn thing to fix things.

“I just showed you one of the stupidest moments in RWBY history. Let’s break it down.’

Oh this should be rich.

“If this base and that relay tower are so important, why aren’t we looking at them?”

Because the actual focus is on Cordovon’s massive sense of patriotism and ego. In fact, when you look at what she said again-

You civilians are clearly incapable of comprehending the importance of our mission here in Argus. So allow me to say this slowly, with smaller words: This base, that relay tower, the very safety of Argus are all gifts from the glorious Kingdom of Atlas! (a backdrop showing the Atlesian flag waves behind her) And it is my duty to uphold them, as only I have the wit and tenacity for such a task.

The focus is all on Atlas and herself. The relay tower and base are her justifications.

Which is important as these drive her actions later on as she feels slighted by the team and insulted, leading her to act irrationally.

“We’re stuck watching Cordo because...no good reason.”

*taps the section above this*

We’re not even a third of the way into the video BTW.

“Second: this has nothing to do with anything in the conversation at hand.”

You know, other than the good guys questioning her and pressing her to relent when her ego says otherwise.

“Ruby asks Cordo to listen to their request, she says she already heard it, says she’ll explain herself then...just tells us her job.”

And it is my duty to uphold them, as only I have the wit and tenacity for such a task.

This is her explanation. Do they have to have her say “Because I know better than you!” in order for you to understand.

P.S. “Cordo says ‘I’m a General!” That’s IRONWOOD’S rank. Did you do so little research and/or cared so little that it never once occurred to you that made no sense and she was referred to as ‘Special Operative’?

“Protecting Argus isn’t brought up and has nothing to do with getting to Atlas!”

*holds up a piece of paper saying ‘EGO!’ in big bold letters.*

“And this tendency to have Cordo sputter out random bullshit to force unnecessary events persists throughout the conversation.”

And you completely missing the point to obnoxious and I dare say intentional degrees persists throughout everything I’ve seen. And unlike the show, where this all feeds into Cordovon’s character and shows human flaws, you just show immense ineptitude.

You bitch that this scene took forever but I’ve seen time pass faster watching paint dry than this shit.

“Almost nothing she says can be interpreted as a valid response to what the characters say.”

That. Is. The. Point.

If it’s not well executed- TALK about it’s execution. You’ve gone on for five minutes and yet cutting it would in fact make your video more tolerable.

*shows an example.*

“Cutting out the filler lines about Ironwood being scared prompting her rant shows how none of what she says has anything to do with what the characters say to her.”

...

The thing that triggered her rant... you cut out. All while trying to prove that Cordovon isn’t listening to them...when the point of the scene is to show she won’t listen to reason...

... You know what? I’m done here. This is so blatantly missing the point that you’re effectively useless.

Twiinks, actually PAY ATTENTION to the show. Your flaw here is that you don’t pay attention (a critic’s JOB) and you keep missing such details (and outright the PURPOSE OF A SCENE) that there’s no reason to listen to you. You can’t offer insight because you fail to see anything beyond the surface and applying your criticisms would lead to the creators insulting their audience’s intelligence.

Give people like FMF and Vexed Viewer credit- They can at least understand the PURPOSE of a scene.

You know, the same guys I preach as biased incompetent idiots.

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d-criss-news · 6 years ago

Link

The actor Darren Criss, 32, has a lot to say about grooming, diet, fitness and, most important, sleep. Mr. Criss, a San Francisco native who lives in Los Angeles, is so obsessed with sleep that he times it to REM cycles. He has also started a men’s grooming site, the Motley, with the siblings Matthew and Madison Ruggieri, and has just introduced a unisex skin care line called Onekind. Here, Mr. Criss, who is in the war drama “Midway” and is filming “Hollywood,” the new Ryan Murphy Netflix show scheduled for release next year, explains his personal care routine.

Fully Groomed

I have a lot of cleansers, but honestly, this is the one category where I feel like you just need to get your face clean. You use a bar of soap, and as long as it does the job, it’s O.K. Then I use Port Products Sol Defense SPF moisturizer. Then, morning and night, I put onRecipe for Men Under Eye Gel.

For night, I’m biased toward my own products. I do the Onekind Midnight Magic serum — there’s retinol in there — and I use that in tandem with Onekind Dream Cream. Every two days or so, I do the Urth Botanical Resurfacing Mask. I love a lot of their products. I also have the Urth Antioxidant Face Complex. It’s like taking your face to the spa.

The Perfect Shave

I have to shave every day for “Hollywood,” the show I’m on, and it’s really tough on the skin. I have to pay attention to the length of my stubble and the kind of blade I use. If I have a few days’ growth, I like the Executive blades from Dollar Shave Club.

But if it’s a day’s stubble, I’m using a safety razor. That’s because razor burn comes from multiple blades and multiple tiny cuts. I’m trying to minimize that by the number of the blades and also how big the blade is.

I use a hot towel to warm up the stubble. I also try to use really hot water to warm up the blade. Lock Stock & Barrel makes a really great shave oil.

One of the most important things, though, is the Urth Post Shave Elixir. I have buckets of it. If I don’t have it, I’m in a panic. I recommend it to anyone. I recommend it to my wife after she shaves her legs. I guarantee you maybe five people in the world care this much about shaving.

The Eastern Medicine Thing

I know it’s a hippie-dippy thing, but I’m a fan of oil pulling. I take a big dip out of a jar of coconut oil and swish that around my mouth. It sounds gross, and it is kind of gross. It’s supposed to pull bacteria out of my mouth.

I think it’s an Eastern medicine kind of thing — let’s face it, they’ve been ahead of everything on this front for millenniums. Someone recommended it to me years ago, and then when I was doing “Hedwig and the Angry Inch” on Broadway, I was literally making out with strangers every night. I did anything I could do to clean my mouth — it was more for their benefit and less for mine.

Sleep King

I’m really militant about sleeping for certain lengths of time. I’ve been doing this for years and years: I make sure I sleep in increments of 90 minutes. It takes me about 10 to 15 minutes to fall asleep and then the 90 minutes to complete a good REM cycle. So, for example, I’d rather get three hours of sleep than four hours.

You know those days when you wake up and you feel really good even though you didn’t really get a lot of sleep? That’s hitting the REM cycle. Or you sleep for a long time, but you wake up in the middle of a REM cycle and your whole day feels awful? I avoid that like the plague. Of course, there are a lot of variables — what you ate, how much you drank — but I try to have my sleep evenly timed out.

A Timed Diet

I’ve been into health and food ever since I was maybe 12 or 13. I was fascinated by the idea that food is fuel in this very nonintellectual way. You need carbs to do this and protein to do that. How it’s translated today is that you see that the digestive system is directly related to everything else. It’s not a subsidiary component.

So I time the way I eat. I don’t mean I’m timing while I’m eating, but you know how if you have dinner plans at 8 with friends? Well, then you don’t eat as much during the day so you’ll have an appetite and enjoy a meal out. I take the same approach with every activitythroughout the day.

If I’m working, the snacks and the doughnuts are all lying around, and I have to be careful of that. Otherwise I’ll feel strung out and tired. I try not to eat three hours before bed, but if I’m hungry, I might have a low-glycemic snack. I’m not going to have a carnitas burrito.

Then one of my biggest life hacks: I’m a huge chia seed person. If chia seed was a brand, I’d be repping them so hard. I soak chia seeds overnight and then do chia seeds and matcha in the morning. They’re the ancient form of good things.

Becoming a Fitness Fiend

I got heavily into fitness in my late 20s. Now I’m a certifiable fitness rat. I work out like I used to play video games. It’s competitive and fun. It’s also meditative. For me it’s really about the cardiovascular benefits and general well-being. If my body is a little more toned, that’s a super-bonus.

When I first started, that entry point was hard to find. I was completely allergic to the bro-y gym culture. “Get swoll, dude!” The thing that changed my life was P90X. I’ve never met him, but Tony Horton is the biggest dweeb in fitness.

I was too embarrassed to go to the gym, and I didn’t want to work out in a public space, and here was a guy who was making the dumbest dad jokes. This guy was all right. I knew this guy from high school.

I now love the social aspect of working out. I have maybe six or seven friends on rotation, and instead of going out, we do a workout class together. It might be H.I.I.T., a Pilates reformer class or yoga. I try to change it up as much as possible. I want to confuse my muscles.

I also love Training Mate in Los Angeles. It’s by these goofy Australians. They’re super-fun and funny. When I’m in New York, Refine is my jam. Fhitting Room is really great.

Making Time for Recovery

A lot of people don’t know how to keep their muscles healthy. They need to do the recovery. Physical therapy is really nice, but it’s expensive. I believe in rolling out the muscles, and that just takes some time. Also, cryotherapy is incredible.

You can do other things, like an Epsom salt bath, and I’m a big fan of the steam shower if you can get access to one. I do it at night too, as it helps me relax before going to sleep.

#darren criss #new york times #press #nov 2019 #onekind

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donteattheappleshook · 5 years ago

Text

Of Cars and Bars Chapter 12/14

Ready to find out what happened between Emma and Killian five years ago?

As always, thank you Krystal @kmomof4 for all of your amazing beta work and for just being a lovely person. This story exists because of and is dedicated to you! (Thanks for the support even though I keep making you angry with all the angst!)

Summary:

Rated E

When Emma Swan is offered the chance to go on tour as an opener for one of the most popular up and coming bands of the decade, the last thing she expects is to find that the lead guitarist is the stranger she had a one night stand with five years ago.

This started out as a smutty two shot about Emma Ruby and Mary Margaret going on a road trip and has evolved into a slow-burn mutual pining angst-fest.

Read it from the beginning on Ao3 and Ffn because tumblr eats all my italics.

Chapter 12 - Falling Slowly

Well, you have suffered enough / And warred with yourself / It's time that you won / Take this sinking boat and point it home / We've still got time

Five years ago

Killian burst into Liam’s room, ignoring the way his brother cursed, the way Belle shouted at him to 'get the hell out', 'what time is it?'. He didn’t care. He walked up to the hotel room bed and threw the sheet music onto their annoyed, half-asleep forms.

“What the fuck is this?” Liam demanded, picking up the pages and frowning at him, looking like he was a second away from murdering him.

“A song,” Killian said. He couldn’t contain his grin, he was too happy. His heart was light, his chest full in the best way, every one of his muscles was singing with excitement and adrenaline.

“I can bloody well see that,” Liam snapped. “But why do you feel the need to throw it at me at -” he looked at the clock beside him. “For fuck’s sake, Killian, six in the morning?”

“I couldn't sleep,” he told them. He’d been up all night, too happy, too ansty, lyrics and music dancing around in his head, begging to be written, filling him with the kind of joy he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“So you decided none of us should?” It was Belle this time and she sounded just as annoyed as his brother, like she wanted him dead - and she was more likely to do it, he mused.

“I think this could be it,” he said. “I think this could be that hit that the producer was looking for.”

They’d been approached by a music producer, an agent who was interested in them, liked their sound, liked their vibe. But he’d said there was something missing. They needed something more, a real hit, something that would pull at heartstrings and make people want to dance and cover it and would make critics sing its praises as ‘real music’.

It had been a ridiculously high, stupid bar to set, one they thought was impossible, and Killian didn’t want to toot his own horn but he was pretty sure he’d done it - somehow. Not somehow, he knew exactly how.

Liam looked at the pages in his hand and Killian saw the moment his expression turned from annoyed to impressed, to hopeful. He handed the pages to Belle. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain blonde woman who lured you off the stage last night would it?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“It has everything to do with her,” he answered honestly. It did. She… Emma, even thinking about her sent a thrill through him, made his heart pound, made his breath catch. She’d come into his life out of nowhere, had brightened it, had made him suddenly want to write again, had made him want to love again. He didn’t know if he would ever be capable of it again, not after Milah. But between the car and the bar and being with her in that dressing room, her promising to meet him today… it gave him hope. Hope that he could love again, hope that he wasn’t broken, that he would find that happiness again, the one he thought he’d lost forever.

It was far too soon, far too quick, he knew that. But he couldn’t help it. The second he’d seen her there, angry and glaring at the road and then the way her whole face had lit up, the way she’d smiled at him on the dance floor, the way she’d touched him, the way she’d challenged him, the way she’d responded to him when they were together. He just - he knew. It was as simple as that. He knew that he could love her and that if he did, he would love her forever.

Liam was eyeing him warily. “Be careful, Killian.”

Killian ignored him. He didn’t have time for Liam’s pessimism, for his caution. He’d spent enough time being cautious, enough time guarding his heart. It was time to let himself believe that he could have love again, to let himself believe that he deserved it.

“I’ve gotta go,” he told him, dismissing his warning with a wave of his hand. “Share that with the guys, will you? I’ll see you at the show tonight."

“Where are you going?” Liam demanded.

Killian smiled. “I’ve got a date!” He slammed the door behind him.

He was early. Way too early. His date wasn’t until noon. He circled the block a few times, walked through the streets of New York, got to know them a little, but he couldn’t let himself stray too far. What if she arrived early too and got scared and changed her mind? So he stayed near, circling, until finally, at 8 he gave up and went inside the cafe. Whatever, he would order a dozen coffees and wait around until noon. He didn’t care. He was too nervous.

His leg bounced under him as his mind raced, remembering the night before, remembering the way she’d felt in his arms and under his hands but also, more than that, the way she’d smiled at him up on stage, the way she’d laughed at him in the car, the way she’d danced with him, the way she’d kissed him before leaving last night.

He got up, asked the barista if he could have some paper and a pen. She handed him some old order sheets, blank on one side and a sparkly pink pen, apologizing and saying it was the only one she could find.

“It’s perfect,” he told her. The smile she gave him was shy and a little flirtatious. If it had been any other day, any other morning before this one, he’d have flirted with her, smiled at her and maybe even asked for her number. But he couldn’t. Not now. Not when he knew that any minute - any hour, he reminded himself - Emma would walk through that door.

He returned to his table with another coffee - that was probably a bad idea considering the jitters that were already running through his system, but he liked it, liked this excitement and anxiety - the good kind, the kind he hadn’t felt in years. He wrote. He was having trouble stopping. He thought of her, of her forwardness and her brazenness and how strong she’d been and the tiny, miniscule bit of vulnerability he’d been allowed to see, thought of the shade of her hair and the curve of her face and he wrote.

He wrote three more songs before he looked up, the bell above the door ringing as someone walked in. It wasn’t her. That was okay, it was still only 11:30. He looked at his phone. He wished he’d gotten her number - idiot, he thought. But she had his. He waited, doodling on the edges of the page.

11:45. 12:00. 12:15. He checked his phone again. She had his number. Would she call if she was running late? 12:30. 1:00. 1:30. The energy that had been rushing through him started to diffuse, like air from a balloon. 2 oclock. Dozens of people came in and out of the shop, the barista brought him more coffees and with each one her smile grew sadder, sympathy clear on her lips. Was it that obvious? Was it written across his face that he was waiting for someone, someone who wasn’t showing up.

He made excuses, she’d gotten lost, she’d gone to the wrong coffee shop, she’d had to leave early… but she didn’t call, she didn’t text. He waited another two hours, and then another two more. At six oclock, he finally gave up, crumpling the bits of paper, the songs, in his fist. He walked over to the barista again, handed them to her.

“Throw this out for me would you?” he asked before walking out the door.

Present Day

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, trying to avoid waking up as long as possible. Her head hurt, she had expected that, but it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be. No, that wasn’t what was worrying her about waking up. What was worrying her was the leather that was under her cheek, sticking to her face and probably leaving creases, and the warm breath on the back of her neck, the arm slung heavy across her waist.

Killian. He was still here. She couldn’t understand how he hadn’t run away after her embarrassing display last night, after she shunned him then tried to molest him and then dumped all of her emotional baggage on him. But she knew he couldn’t stay. There was no way anyone would stay after that - not for her, never for her.

If she shut her eyes, forced herself back to sleep then she wouldn’t have to be awake for the moment when he eventually woke up, realised what a terrible, terrible mistake he’d made getting involved with a mess like her and snuck out of his own room and out of her life. She was used to that, used to being left behind. She’d survived it with Neal and she would - probably - survive it with Killian. Probably not, but she’d have to.

She felt him stir behind her, heard his sharp intake of breath as he froze for a moment. Here we go, she thought. He breathed out heavily, the sound relieved, his muscles relaxing. The arm that was around her waist tightened a fraction and her eyes blinked open. What was he doing? Why wasn’t he bolting? She’d given him every reason to. His nose buried into her hair, he pressed his lips to her neck and she turned in his arms, frowning at his still half-asleep face. He smiled at her, one of those big, almost disbelieving smiles that made his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“You stayed,” he said and her heart started to race in her chest.

“I stayed?” she asked in disbelief. She stayed? Why wouldn’t she stay?

“I worried that you’d… regret what you said last night.” His eyes widened then. “Do you remember what you said?”

Did she remember? Did he? She’d poured her goddamn heart out to him last night, told him she wanted to be with him, told him all of her damage and her baggage and her fears… why had he stayed? Her chest tightened.

“I remember,” she said and the look of relief that crossed his face was a little heartbreaking. But so was the insecurity, the doubt.

“Emma, if you didn’t mean it - if you’ve changed your mind I-” He was giving her an out, she could tell. Maybe she should have jumped on it, taken it as a chance to run, to get away from this terrifying situation, from the possibility of letting herself love him and of letting herself be hurt. But he stayed. He stayed despite all the terrible things he’d learned about her and now he was afraid that she’d regret it, that she’d run.

She couldn’t blame him. She’d given him plenty of reasons to think she would. And that was when she realised… he hadn’t given her any reason to think he would run. He’d stayed tonight, yes, but he’d also stayed despite all the times she’d pushed him away since they met again two months ago. He stayed despite the fact that she’d run once before. She was an idiot. How in the hell had she ever doubted him?

“I don’t regret it,” she said and the worry left his eyes so quickly that it hurt, but it also made her smile a little, the corner of her mouth turning up as his did.

“And, um,” he scratched that spot behind his ear. “Do you remember what I said?”

She nodded, could feel her cheeks warming. “You said you were in this for the long haul.” He looked shy, still that bit of uncertainty but he met her eyes with an earnestness that sent her blood racing.

“I mean it, Emma,” he promised. “I want this. I want you. If you don’t, please tell me now because I don’t think I could take it if you changed your mind.”

“Warts and all?” she asked, only half-joking.

He laughed. “Warts and all.”

“You don’t…” It was getting harder to look at him so she settled for looking at his chest instead, fiddled with the pendants hanging there. “... mind them?” she finished lamely.

“I like your warts,” he said.

“Ew.”

He poked her in the side and she squirmed away. He didn’t let her go though. “I mean, that your past doesn’t scare me. I’m honored that you shared it with me. All it is is another part of you, another part of what made you who you are… and I’m quite fond of that woman.”

She smiled, finally meeting his eyes again. He wasn’t lying. “I…” Ugh. Words. “I like your warts too.”

He gave her an amused, affectionate grin. “Then are we doing this? Are we trying?”

She nodded, not wanting to stumble over words anymore and brought his face to hers. She kissed him and his hand came to her cheek, his touch gentle and sweet and she could feel his lips curling under her own. When she pulled back there was an expression she couldn’t read on his face.

“What?” she asked.

“I just - I was so afraid that you’d run again,” he confessed and the words were like a lead weight on her heart. He had every right to think that. But she’d run so many times in her life, not just from him, from everyone. And she was tired of it. She’d always been willing to lose the things she ran from before. But not now, not him.

“I already made that mistake once,” she said and she heard his intake of breath. They hadn’t ever talked about it, he hadn’t brought it up, but she couldn’t pretend it didn’t hang over them like some giant betrayal, a giant broken promise that gave him every right to doubt her, to never believe a thing she said again.

“Five years ago I-”

“Emma,” he said and she knew he was going to let her get away with it, dismiss it. But she couldn’t let him. He deserved better.

“No, let me finish. Five years ago I got scared because I was afraid of how much I liked you - even back then. And all I’ve ever done was run, so I ran away and I’m sorry. I don’t want to do that again.” She turned her eyes to him and he was looking at her with that softness that was so often on his face when he looked at her, when she tried to talk about her feelings - poorly. “I regretted it, you know. The second I got home.”

He gave her a surprised, hesitant smile, his eyebrow ticking up, and then kissed her again. “I forgive you,” he told her, because he knew that’s what she needed to hear. She took a moment to once again be amazed by how well he understood her.

“But, um,” he cleared his throat. “Now I’ll have to ask you to forgive me as well.” She looked at him in surprise - what could he possibly have to apologize for? “I broke our agreement.”

She raised a brow at him. “What agreement?”

“I wrote a song about you.” A smile tugged at her lips and she watched as the hesitation on his face turned to relief and then a little bit of that teasing glint she liked so much. “In my defence, I wrote it before we agreed to those terms.”

“When did you write it?” she asked, but she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

“Five years ago.” He looked at her nervously and she smiled, feeling almost shy but her heart raced in her chest, hoping she was right, a little afraid that she was right, but choosing hope, choosing happiness over the fear.

“Liam didn’t write your first hit, did he?”

“He wishes.”

She laughed and could feel the warmth spreading through her as he gave her another one of those smiles.

“Well, I guess you’re forgiven since you didn’t technically break the rules,” she allowed. He rolled them over suddenly and she was on her back with him hovering over her, his face bright and happy.

“I hope you’re in a forgiving mood then, because I’ve written about six more since.”

She laughed even as he brought his mouth down over hers and she reached for his shirt, pulling him down so she could wrap her arms around him and so that he could kiss her properly like he’d refused to last night. She moved to wrap her legs around his and squealed as she nearly had her toes squished.

“Are you wearing shoes in my bed?” she demanded, realising that he was still dressed in his coat and his boots.

“If you recall, you lured me into your bed last night fully clothed.” She scoffed, lured.

“Take those off. You’ll get the sheets dirty.”

He sighed dramatically, making a show of rolling his eyes.

“And so it begins. We’ve only been dating ten minutes and you’re already telling me what to do?”

She didn’t bother to hide her smile at the casual way he said ‘dating’. She couldn’t have if she wanted to. She liked the way it sounded way, way too much. He conceded though and rolled back off of her, onto his back so he could kick them off. He threw her a mischievous grin, one eyebrow raised as he looked at her over his shoulder. “Anything else you’d like me to remove while I’m at it?”

She wanted to laugh but stopped herself, cocking her head at him instead. She turned onto her side, propping her head up on her knuckles. “Well, that jacket feels a little overdressed,” she said casually. The smirk he gave her was sinful before he shrugged it off his shoulders.

“Better?” She raised one shoulder dismissively. “What?”

“I’ve never been a fan of that shirt, honestly.” That was a lie. He looked really, really good in that shirt. But he would look much better out of it.

“You don’t like it?” he asked, pulling at the front and glancing down at it. She bit her lip to hide her smile as he pulled it over his head, messing his hair up in the best way.

“Much better,” she said as she reached for his belt and used it to drag him back over to her. He laughed at her that way that he always did when she got a little eager - and she was eager. It was hard not to be when he looked like that and he went around talking about how they were dating and how he was in this for the long haul.

He didn’t get to say anything as she got up on her knees with him and slanted her lips over his, grabbing hold of that soft, lovely hair and holding him against her. He was happy to comply, his hands coming to her back, sliding under her shirt, his fingers warm against her skin and causing goosebumps to break out where he touched her.

She pushed her hips against him, wanting him closer, needing that confirmation that he wanted her as much as she did him and he groaned, hands sliding down to her ass, squeezing and pulling her against his already hardening erection. Lust shot through her and she pushed him down onto his back, and threw a leg over his hips so that she could sit astride him.

“You’re being very pushy,” he commented, an amused smile on his lips.

“Aren’t girlfriends allowed to be?” she teased and her heart stopped when his brows shot up.

“Girlfriends?” he asked and she felt her face flush.

“Shut up,” she said, leaning down and sealing her lips to his so that he couldn’t make another teasing remark if he tried. He groaned under her, his hand finding its way back to her ass and the other into her hair as he very happily let her keep him quiet. “I like it,” he said as she moved to trail kisses down his neck, his breath hitching when she reached a particularly sensitive spot. His fingers had found their way under the material of her panties, inching closer and closer to where she was already desperate for him.

“What’s that?” she asked, growing more confident as his breathing continued to become more laboured under her mouth on his neck and her hands on his chest, his stomach, his hips. “Me calling myself your girlfriend or me being pushy?”

He let out a choked sound when her hands reached a little lower. “Both,” he said, the word caught in his throat. Oh really? she thought. That could be fun. His hands came up to her sides, one wrapping around her waist as he started to sit up, probably to flip them over but she stopped him.

She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down against the pillows. “No,” she said, holding him down to make sure he’d stay there. He raised an eyebrow at her in question, in challenge really and she held firm until he conceded, dropping his hands back to his sides.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want him in control - she loved it really. But he was always taking care of her, always putting her first, generous and considerate. And last night he’d taken care of her in a whole new way, one she wasn’t used to. She couldn’t return that favor now in kind but she could certainly return it in other ways - thank him in other ways. She needed to remember to put him first sometimes. That was part of being a girlfriend right?

Right now though, all she could focus on was the way he was watching her, with nervous excitement and desire. And on the length of him hard under his jeans, pressed against her where their hips met - she was pretty focused on that too.

She pulled her shirt over her head, mostly so that she could watch the way his eyes darkened, the way his teeth bit down on his lip and his hips pushed up against hers just a fraction. His hand came up to reach for her and she smacked it away nearly laughing as he pouted. He looked like he was gonna say something, like he was gonna change his mind about liking her pushy, but she rolled her hips over his and his head fell back and then he didn’t look like he could think much of anything, let alone say it.

She did it a few more times, revelled in the way he cursed softly under his breath, and she fought the urge to just rip his pants off now and let him sink into her. She leaned down, not stopping the motion of her hips, a slow, steady grind as she restarted her assault on his neck, licking and sucking and nipping at the skin there until he swore again.

She trailed her lips down his chest, finally having to stop rocking against him so that she could slide down lower, press open mouth kisses to the spot under his belly button, to each of his hip bones. He really had a habit of wearing his pants ridiculously low. She could see his hands fisting at his sides, his knuckles white, his chest heaving as she teased the skin above the denim waistband. She looked up at him coyly and a thrill ran through her. He looked wrecked and she’d barely even started.

“I don’t know if I’m crazy about these jeans either,” she said casually as she trailed a finger over them, over the hard ridge of him pressing against the material.

“Get rid of them,” he insisted and the desperation and the urgency in his voice made her laugh. Apparently he’d lost the ability to banter back. She waited, ran her hand over him a few more times, barely touching, light enough to nearly drive him crazy as she watched his jaw clench. “Swan, please,” he whined and she took pity on him. She was supposed to be thanking him after all.

She undid the buckle of his belt and the button of his jeans, slid the zipper down until she could see him, spilling out of his pants, hard and straining. Fucking hell.

“Emma w-” his words caught in his throat, turning into a strangled moan when she dragged her tongue along the length of him. “Fuck,” he panted, hand coming up to fist in her hair. She loved seeing him like this, seeing him desperate and needy and out of control. He had her like this so often - it was nice to be reminded that she had the same effect on him.

She slid his pants further down his legs, enough so that she could take hold of him. She waited, her mouth a breath away until he looked at her. She felt a stirring in her gut both at the way he looked at her and at the words she was about to say. “You were a real gentleman last night,” she told him, her hand sliding slowly up and down. “You took such good care of me.” She sped up the pace, watched as his eyes fluttered closed for a moment. “But you’re not gonna be now,” she said and his eyes snapped open, widened as he stared at her. “You’re gonna sit there and watch while I suck you off. You’re gonna let me take care of you.”

“Bloody fucking hell,” he groaned and his words sent a fresh wave of lust and heat to her core, had her pressing her thighs together to try relieve the ache. She kept up the movement of her hand, brought him to her lips as she watched him watch her, saw the heady desire in his eyes.

“Got it?” she asked, waiting for an answer before she did anything, before she gave him what he wanted.

“Yes,” he cried, half whisper, half moan and she took him into her mouth. “Fuck. Fuck,” he called out as she licked and sucked at him, taking more of him in before pulling back and swirling her tongue around the head of him. His hand fisted in her hair, hard enough to hurt and she felt a sort of pride at reducing the eloquent Killian Jones to a few monosyllables and curses.

God, she wanted him. But this wasn’t about her. Well, it was a tiny bit, she mused as she looked up again to see his eyes fixed on her, to see the way he was staring at her like she was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. It made her feel like she was, and to know how much he wanted her, how good she could make him feel was a heady combination.

She’d kept her pace fairly slow, drawing it out until she heard his whimpered “Emma, Emma please. I need -” He hadn’t finished his sentence, his eyes screwing shut and his mouth falling open as he gasped, his hand pulling at her hair now. She gave in, she’d teased him enough. She pulled him deeper into her mouth, hollowed her cheeks as she sucked and bobbed her head faster, letting him sink further with each drag.

He was still watching, still doing his best to anyway, but his eyes kept screwing shut, his lids heavy when they were open as his breathing became more erratic. She felt his hips thrust up into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat before he caught himself. She thrilled that he’d lost control, even if just for a second.

“Fuck, Swan, yes. Gods, you feel so good,” he rambled desperately. She loved how vocal he was. Even that first time, the way he spoke, the dirty, filthy things he let roll off his tongue while he fucked her had turned her on more than anyone had managed to before. “I want to -” he stopped, swallowed the words. She pulled back, let her hand take over, kept up the pace as she looked at him.

“You want to what?” she insisted, refusing to give him back her mouth until he answered, despite the subtle way his hand in her hair kept trying to nudge her back. “Tell me.”

“Fuck, I want to come in your mouth,” he cried. “I want to come down your throat and feel you swallow it.” Emma moaned, she actually moaned, his words sending a wave of heat straight to her clit, a fresh shock of desire soaking the fabric of her underwear. She’d done it. She’d conquered the gentleman.

He was looking at her, waiting, his face starting to look nervous, shocked like he couldn’t believe what he’d said. She brought his cock to her lips and let her tongue dart out, meeting his eye as she swiped over the tip, watching the way his darkened before she slid her mouth back over him, sucking and licking and pumping, setting a punishing pace.

She could feel how close he was, felt him harden and swell under her tongue and she pushed forward, let him sink to the back of her throat, hit it once, twice before he came with a hoarse shout, holding her against him for just a fraction of a second too long as his whole body tensed before he relaxed and his hand fell from her hair.

She released him, smiling proudly as she rolled over onto the bed beside him looking over at where he was laying. He looked absolutely ruined, naked and panting with his head still thrown back against the pillow, eyes shut tight and breath passing roughly through his parted lips. She loved how he looked when he was like this. He was gorgeous, indecent and rakish and she bit her lip, thighs rubbing together to try and calm the ache his appearance stirred in her. Maybe that hadn’t totally made them even for him punching Neal in the face for her and taking care of her all night, but she thought it was pretty fucking close.

He looked over at her finally, his head flopping over onto its side against the pillow, his eyes only half open. “That was…”

She raised an eyebrow teasingly at him. “Oh, I could tell.”

He reached for her weakly and she let him pull her to him, let him catch her lip between his, open under her and let his tongue slide slowly and lazy over her own. “You’re amazing,” he sighed as he pulled back and she laughed against his next kiss. Sated Killian was absolutely adorable and she’d only just begun to realise it, had only just started to stick around long enough to see him in his soft, almost drunken glory.

She’d been an idiot, missing out on so many things because she was scared, missing out on getting to know him, on seeing all these new sides of him. She liked every new bit that he revealed to her. And the bits she wasn’t crazy about, she still found endearing because they were uniquely him, because they made up the man that she’d finally allowed herself to admit she wanted in her life - indefinitely.

His kiss became more insistent, the hand on her cheek tilting her face, letting him open her mouth wider under his, his tongue tasting and exploring her mouth with deep, deliberate strokes and she moaned against his lips. He rolled her onto her back before she knew what was happening, his hand sliding down to her breast, teasing her nipple into a stiff peak as she whimpered and arched into his touch. She felt his smile against her lips just before he pulled away to pay attention to her neck.

“Killian, you don’t -” she tried to say but she was cut off by the gasped ‘oh’ that left her when his fingers trailed down, his mouth taking their place over her breast, rolling the rosy bud under his tongue. “You don’t have to,” she managed to force the words out. “That’s not what this was about,” she tried to explain.

“Hush, Swan,” he said, his fingers trailing over her hip now, groping at her ass sliding under the fabric, nails biting briefly at her flesh before trailing back around to the front, toying with the elastic. “This is what boyfriends do,” he said seriously, but she could feel his smile against her skin and her heartbeat picked up at the word ‘boyfriend’. She felt like a high schooler but in the absolute best way. Her heart practically stopped when his fingers dipped down into her panties, to where she was already hot and desperate for his touch.

“Bloody hell, Emma,” he cursed. “You’re soaked.” She could only nod, tongue coming out to wet her lip when he teased her entrance, then slid slippery fingers up to her sensitive nub, circling it slowly. “Did you enjoy that?” he asked with awe and lust heavy in his voice as he continued his feather-light touch. She squirmed against him. “Did you enjoy sucking me off? Making me beg you for more? Making me come down your throat? Did it turn you on?”

“Yes,” she breathed desperately and he rewarded her with more pressure, making her cry out against his skilled ministrations. She was already rolling her hips against his fingers wantonly, seconds after he’d started touching her. She couldn’t help it, making him fall apart had brought her so close to the edge already. He let her ride his hand for another moment, growling low under his breath, before he slipped out of her panties and she cried out in protest.

“I think it’s only fair,” he said, settling into the open space between her thighs. “That since you got to taste me,” he gripped the fabric at her hips, slid it down past her ankles. Her heart was pounding against her ribs in anticipation, at the look in his eyes - like he wanted to eat her alive. “I should get to taste you.”

Fucking yes, she wanted to scream but it was swallowed by a gasp as his lips closed over her, pulling her clit into his mouth with no preamble. Holy shit, she was going to come right here and now if he kept that up. His tongue flicked out, teasing the nub with a few, quick strokes before he released it, his mouth opening hot over her core and she didn’t know whether to moan in frustration or in pleasure.

He licked her slowly, bottom to top, once, twice, before sliding his tongue into her, thrusting and curling against her walls. “Jesus Christ,” she cursed and he groaned appreciatively against her, the feeling vibrating through her core and sending a fresh wave of heat and slickness between her thighs. He groaned again.

She couldn’t take it. She needed to come. She was too wound up, too high, too close. She couldn’t take the teasing. “Please,” she begged, hoping he’d take pity on her like she had on him. He pressed another hot, open-mouthed kiss against her before finding her clit again, pulling it between his lips and sucking as he pushed one finger and then another inside of her.

“Yes,” she sobbed as he found the perfect rhythm, the way he always did, the steady rocking of his fingers and the pulsing against her sensitive nerves driving her higher and higher. She grabbed for his hair, needing to hold onto him, needing something to ground her to reality. “Don’t stop,” she begged between frantic gasps and cries. He redoubled his efforts, increasing the speed of his fingers, sucking harder, curling, licking, flicking, and she broke, her whole body convulsing, her thighs gripping the sides of his head, a shout bursting from her as the world went silent for a moment. The only thing that existed was the feel of his mouth on her and the shudders wracking through her.

He eased her down, slowing his caresses until her aftershocks subsided and she melted against the mattress in a boneless heap. She laughed, a disbelieving, weak sound leaving her. She’d heard that sex got better when there were feelings involved but she’d always thought that was a load of bull. But now, ever since that night a week ago where she’d decided to try, each time they were together was more intense, more powerful, more earth-shattering. And this time - Jesus fucking christ she had not been prepared for this time.

“That was...” she rasped, mirroring his words from earlier.

“I know,” he said and she looked down to see him smirking, cocky and smug. He crawled back up, wiped his mouth with a tissue and pulled her in for a sweet kiss before tucking her against his chest. “You know, I think I’m gonna like this boyfriend thing,” he mused. She smacked his chest lightly and he laughed. He was right though. She was definitely already liking it.

She hitched a leg over his hip and smiled when he grunted, feeling him stir against her. “How late are we for breakfast?” she asked, knowing that their friends would likely be waiting for them downstairs as they did most mornings so they could all eat together in the hotel restaurant.

“A bit,” he admitted. “I’m sure they’ll understand though that last night was -”

“No, you misunderstood me,” she interrupted him, grabbing his bicep and pulling to roll him over on top of her again. “How late do you think we can get away with being for breakfast?” His grin matched hers as he leaned down to kiss her again.

***

They missed breakfast. They arrived in the hotel dining room just as their friends were heading back to their rooms to get ready to board the bus in an hour. They had a three hour drive, a sound check, a little downtime to settle into their hotel, and then a show at eight. Emma didn’t notice the nervous, concerned glances Mary Margaret and Ruby shot her when she walked in - or the way they changed to shock when they saw her smile, her hand clasped firmly in Killian’s. Mary Margaret’s mouth hung open in disbelief, looking quickly back and forth between the two of them. Ruby’s grin was wicked, pleased and knowing.

“If it isn’t our new celebrity,” Liam exclaimed as they reached them. Killian rolled his eyes, waiting for whatever his brother was building up to. “Congratulations on going viral,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “And twice in one night, too.”

‘What are you talking about, brother,” he sighed, but Emma knew he wasn’t as annoyed as he was pretending to be, he was too happy - she could tell, she was too.

Liam handed over his phone to show him two articles, one after the other. The first was a rumor about them, a suspicion that they were together, with photos of them singing last night, a picture of them with their arms around each other. The second article was about the party, with photos clearly taken on someone’s phone, of him knocking Neal out. Emma tried not to smile at the way Neal was referred to as ‘a one-hit wonder who had been mostly absent from the music scene after his second album failed to live up to his debut’.

“You’re trending on Twitter,” Liam told him scornfully.

“And instagram! And Tik Tok,” David added with more excitement. “There’s a looped video of you knocking him out - they set it to music. Here, look, it’s pretty great.” David moved to show him but Liam stopped him, displeased.

“Lighten up, Liam,” Killian said. “You’re just jealous that I’m going to have the ‘bad boy’ rep in the band now and not you. Besides,” he added. “He deserved it.”

Some of the anger left Liam’s face then, his eyes flickered briefly to Emma. “Yes, I know.” Her heart swelled a little. She knew that her friends must have told him some version of what happened with Neal, but to see Liam support her was… kind of touching. Liam was fairly aloof. It was nice to know he cared.

She looked around to see the others wearing similar expressions and she realised then how much she’d gained when she agreed to go on this little adventure. She’d found Killian, but she’d also gained three brothers, and another sister in Belle. She loved this little makeshift family they’d created (albeit a fairly incestuous one) but she loved them and she planned to hold on to them.

“I wish I’d done it,” Ruby muttered. She looked at Killian then. “But I’m glad you did. That was very cool of you.” A look passed between them, some sort of unspoken understanding and Emma wondered what secret they had, what score had been settled.

“We should get going,” Belle said, glancing at her watch and they all nodded in agreement. Emma’s stomach growled. Not having eaten since before the show last night and having consumed an entire bottle of whiskey leaving her hungry and desperate for something unhealthy. Killian glanced around the room and grabbed a couple of pastries before they were put away, snuck them quickly out into the lobby with their friends. He handed her one. She smiled and thanked him as they walked, their arms bumping against one another, far closer together than was necessary.

“So are you two together now?” Graham asked when they reached the elevators. The others didn’t say anything, but Emma could see them all watching them out of the corner of their eyes.

“Are you?” Killian shot back, looking between him and Ruby with a raised brow. She knew what he was doing, knew he was still trying to protect her, not wanting to announce their newfound relationship before she was ready. But she was ready. She’d kept him a secret too long. It wasn’t fair to him. She wanted them to know.

Graham grinned. “I asked you first.”

“Yes,” Emma said and watched as seven pairs of eyes widened in shock - Killian’s included. She shrugged them off, taking a bite of her pastry. She felt Killian’s smile pressed against the crown of her head, his arms slipping around her waist.

“Oh god, it was bad enough when they were hiding it,” Ruby groaned. “They’re gonna be insufferable now.”

Emma glared at her but it was half-hearted, the grin pulling at her lips much stronger.

***

They had just finished their set, Ruby, Mary Margaret and Emma all taking their bows and shouting their thanks at the cheering crowd. Emma smiled at her friends. They all had equally massive grins on their faces. Each show they played they had a bigger round of applause. Each time they were up there, there were more people in the stands, people coming to see them rather than only to see Abandon Ship! and tolerating the opening act. There had been signs today in the stands, signs with her name on them, with Ruby’s and with Mary Margarets, decorated with hearts and catchy slogans and drawings of swans. This was really happening. They’d really made it.

They said one final farewell and rushed off the stage, hearts racing and adrenaline singing in their veins. The cheers continued, they usually did, people now warmed up and ready for the main act. She found Belle waiting for them on the side of the stage, a wide smile on her face.

“I think they’re ready for the guys,” Ruby laughed.

Belle shook her head. “Listen.” They looked back towards the stage, paid attention to the cries and the cheers. It wasn’t for Abandon Ship! - it was for them. They were screaming her name, demanding another song. Her jaw dropped as she turned to the other women.

“What do we do?” she asked and Belle’s brow quirked up.

“You go back out there and give the people what they want,” she said.

“Our first encore,” Mary Margaret squealed. “How exciting!”

“What do ya say, Em?” Ruby asked. Emma nodded but paused, her friends watching her eagerly.

“Do you think… look maybe this isn’t the best time to go up there and improvise but do you think we could try something new? Do you think you guys could follow me?” she hesitated. It was a big ask, risking their first encore for her to take a chance and finally, finally put herself out there.

“Fucking absolutely,” Mary Margaret said and Emma’s eyes shot up at her friend’s language.

“What she said,” Ruby laughed. “Just go out there and play. We’ve got your back.”

“Always,” Mary Margaret added.

She was so goddamn lucky. She had the best friends - the best family - she could ever ask for. She grabbed both their hands, felt them squeeze hers tightly and together they walked back on the stage. Emma sat down, picking up her guitar - one of those acoustic-electric ones she was so fond of, and looked back at her band. They were ready, instrument and sticks in hand. They offered her reassuring nods.

“Thanks for that,” she said into the mic and the crowd cheered loudly. She smiled. Sometimes she understood why Killian hamed it up so much up here. She didn’t have that in her though. “If um,” she hesitated. “If it’s alright with you I’d like to try something new.” Another collective cheer. “I’ve never played this before for anyone -” she looked back at the girls. “We’ve never even played this one together so, uh, bear with us,” she joked. The crowd erupted again when she started strumming.

This was it. She could do this. It was time to put her money where her mouth was and finally play something real - something scary and vulnerable and so goddamn terrifying, but she needed to. And she knew he would hear it - knew that the sounds from the stage travelled to the dressing room where he and the boys were getting ready - knew that he’d hear it and that he’d know - he wasn’t the only one who’d broken their rule.

She thought of him when she sang and it made her feel braver. She’d thought of playing the one they wrote together - the first one - but she’d changed her mind. She didn’t want the first real, honest song she played on stage to be about Neal - he didn’t deserve that. Killian did. Ruby and Mary Margaret joined in after the first chorus, always able to read her so well, and that made her braver too. She didn’t have to feel vulnerable on stage because she wasn’t alone. She had backup. She had family.

The crowd was dead silent for a moment when they finished and Emma’s heart hung somewhere in her throat, waiting, terrified to see if they would like this as much as they liked what she’d played before, if it was enough. The screams filled her ears, a roar that went through the room, echoing across the stadium, blending into a single, booming sound that seemed to go on forever. Ruby and Mary Margaret joined her, wrapped their arms around her and thanked the crowd, their voices barely heard over the noise despite their microphones. She was too stunned to say anything, her eyes stung.

They left the stage and it was a moment before she could hear her friends’ voices - over the crowd yes, but also over the blood rushing in her ears.

“That was amazing, Emma,” Ruby hugged her. Mary Margaret joined in from the other side, sandwiching her between them so that she could barely breathe. She laughed, tears still wetting her eyes but with joy, with excitement. They’d liked it. They’d liked her music - liked the real her and she could feel that thought swelling in her chest, opening it, like all the doubts and the fears she’d kept locked away in there to protect herself were finally being set free - she didn’t need them anymore.

“Have you found him?” she heard Liam’s voice saying, a little frantic, almost scared.

“No,” Belle said, her voice equally worried. “Graham’s got people searching the whole building and David’s checking out back in the alleys in case he stepped out. Emma’s heart seized. Belle, Liam, Graham, David. That left only one person. Where was Killian?

“What’s going on?” she asked and Liam turned to her, his face hesitant, like he didn’t want to tell her and it scared her because she knew that look. That was the look people gave when they were protecting someone, when answering your question put someone else at risk. After a moment he sighed, still looking panicked. “Killian’s missing.”

“What?”

“He wasn’t in the dressing room. We thought he was out here watching you play but he’s not. Nobody’s seen him in over an hour when he got a phone call and stepped out to take it.”

“Has he done this before?” Emma asked, her heart now pounding heavily in her chest thinking of all the places he could be, all the terrible things that could have happened.

Liam winced and nodded. “The last time he did this... We found him a week later. He’d gone on a bender. He didn’t even remember where he’d been.” He hesitated, like he was worried whatever he said next could upset her. “Did anything happen last night? Or this morning? Anything that could have set him off?”

She wanted to be sick. Was this because of them? She knew Killian had his own issues, his own baggage. But he was so carefree, so lighthearted and so kind that sometimes she forgot about the darkness he had inside of him - about what he’d lived through. She worried that maybe he’d acted the way she had in the past - sabotaged something good because he was too afraid of it, because he didn’t think he deserved it.

“We need to find him,” she said. Liam nodded and they all grabbed their coats.

“Belle, stall as long as you can,” Liam told her. “If we’re not back in thirty minutes… cancel the show.” Belle understood, agreed, Emma saw her squeeze his hand tightly, reassuringly before he left.

“Find him,” she said.

They searched for over two hours. Looked in every hotel and bar they could find, called his phone, called the police, called the hospital. Liam even called a couple of local AA meetings. Nobody had seen him. The show was cancelled but that was the least of her worries. She needed to find him. She needed him to be safe and with each passing second she imagined worse and worse fates that might have befallen him.

She was the one to find him, in a bar nearly ten miles away from the venue. He must have walked there. She felt a fist gripping her heart, trying to pull it out of her chest when she saw him. He was sitting at the counter, a bottle of rum and an empty glass on the table in front of him. She pulled out her phone, texted Liam who said he’d be there in ten. She approached him slowly and felt the grip loosen when she saw that the bottle was still sealed.

“Killian?” she asked and he started, turned to look at her. His expression relaxed when he recognized her. He looked angry - he looked heartbroken, defeated, and sad, but the anger simmered under the surface. She sat next to him, reeling at how familiar this scene was, how quickly their roles had reversed. He had the glass between his fingers now, was glaring at the bottle and she couldn’t tell which pull was stronger - how much he wanted it or how much he hated it.

“What happened?” she asked and he didn’t answer for a long while, his fingers playing along the edge of the glass. At least he’d started focusing on it now and not the bottle. When he finally spoke his voice was hollow, even the rage gone from it now.

“Gold,” he said and Emma tried not to let the confusion show on her face, wanted him to say what he needed to, to explain. “Milah’s husband. He’s up for early release.” Fuck. She didn’t know how to comfort him, what to do. How do you help someone deal with the man who murdered his love being released from prison?

“Good behaviour,” he scoffed. “What that really means is that he has his hand in enough people’s pocket.” She put her hand on his arm and he finally set the glass down, finally looked at her. “I’m leaving,” he said.

“What?” she asked, hating how small and broken she sounded.

“I’m going back to England. There’s going to be an appeal. Milah didn’t have any other family. There’s nobody else to stand up for her - nobody else to tell people what a monster he was. I need to go back.”

Emma tried not to listen to the voice in her head, the one that repeated over and over: I’m leaving. I’m leaving you. But it only grew louder, more insistent. He hadn’t asked her to come with him, hadn’t needed her help. He was leaving. Just like that. It hurt how easy that decision seemed to be.

She saw Liam and David coming through the door. She stood up, nodding her head, fighting the tears that were burning her eyes and her throat. She had to get out of here. She couldn’t let him see her break, couldn’t make this about her. But she had to get out. She couldn’t stand by to watch him leave her. She deserved this, she figured. She’d left him more than once and karma was a bitch.

She left him there, with his brother and his best friend. He didn’t even try to stop her, didn’t seem to notice her leaving. Ruby and Mary Margaret were outside when she got there. They took one look at her face and wrapped her up in their arms, asking what happened, what was wrong.

“It’s over,” she said. “Everything.” She’d tried. She put herself out there, risked it. And he’d still left. “Let’s just go home. I’m done.”

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