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haravath0t · 4 years ago

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A Christmas Heist Pt. II - Going Undercover

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: None, except an asshole Santa Claus, an immense word count, and a cute elf!Bucky

A/N: Hello, lovelies! Yikes, a day late. I’m very very sorry for putting this out later than said on the masterlist of this mini-series! Now, we are starting the mission, so things will be tense from here on out! I gotta thank my fabulous Bucket @world-of-aus for once again helping me with this one! As I’ve said before, this request is pushing out of my comfort zone and is helping me shape how I would like to write for mission-related works such as these! I apologize for this part being long, as I wanted this to capture the essence of the first day on site. As always, feedback and commentary are very much appreciated! Happy reading, lovelies! :)

My pinned masterlist can be found here!

A Christmas Heist Masterlist

You got out of the car with Bucky, having decided that it was best that you two came to the mall roughly the same time, while Steve would go sooner to the Apple Store. You took a breath as you waited for your boyfriend, adrenaline was already surging through your body, looking around for safety.

“Alright, so like we discussed, sweetheart, you’re going in first. I’ll wait 5 minutes before you come in, I’ll do a quick little floor check on the mall before “working” with you.”

“Uhuh..”

“And then we’ll-”

Bucky’s words slowly fade away, leaving you with your thoughts. Would this be foolproof? What if you accidentally slip? How many casualties would be counted should the worst of the worst-

“You alright, doll? You seem to be a bit nervous.”

You jump slightly, blushing as realized you were the one up in your head this time, sending your boyfriend a small smile. “Yeah, I’m ready. Just a tad nervous, Buck… worrying about you ya know,” you say, putting your earpiece on your ear, fixing your hair so it’s further hidden.

Bucky looks around a bit, making sure no one was there before cupping your cheeks to press his lips quickly to yours, giving you a reassuring kiss. “Come back to me, Y/N. You’re like a million miles away up in that head of yours,” he mutters, a hint of smile forming into your lips as he repeats your words from last night. That smile grew when you felt his smile form on your lips. “Mmm.. I know I know… I just don’t want to hurt anyone during this assignment.” You admit softly into his lips before he pulls away completely, rubbing your arms for comfort.

“You, Steve, and I are trying our hardest to avoid that, sweetheart. Like you said, it’s not the first time we’ve done this. We’ll be okay, just one step at a time.” This made you more confident than you were a few minutes ago. “One step at a time,” you repeat back more firmly with a nod.

“That’s my girl.” Giving Bucky's hand one final squeeze was enough to get you moving forward, a silent promise shared between the two of you that you would meet inside soon.

It’s quiet when you enter the mall, there’s not the usual hustle and bustle of what you were normally used to, but then again you were in this mall for an all too different reason other than leisure. This was for work, you repeat to yourself, looking around as you see employees make their own way to their respective stores alongside you, minding their own business. You are merely early. This is what the average person does when they go to work, you tell yourself. Well that is where the problem lies. You are more than just the average person, for your job had people’s lives at stake.

Bringing a hand up you pushed the comm further into your ear, head ducking slightly as you continued to walk the quiet plaza, “I’m in,” you murmured before you were straightening out eyes straight ahead as you continued to your destination. It was a minute, maybe two before you heard Bucky's deepened voice come through, “Right behind you, meet you in a few.”Those are the last few words you hear from him as you approach the toy store, “Visual on y/n,” you hear Steve’s voice come through. This made you jump in surprise, eyes darting to the Apple Store across you, only to see Steve wiping down the glass windows. A subtle wink gets thrown at you paired with a small reassuring smile, with you exchanging it before his eyes are returning back to the task at hand.

Glancing away you look up at the toy stores sign before looking at the double glass doors. Breathing in deeply you braced yourself. You guys could do this, you were trained agents, you could do this. Moving forward you’re pushing through the glass doors, from what you can see the store is fairly empty aside from the rows upon rows of toys that sat all around you. An overwhelming feeling hits you as you pause mid step in the doorway.

It was a beautiful sight to see, one that was truly a child’s paradise, for your eyes wandered all over the place in awe. There was a toy train chugging around the store, a big looking plastic house for kids to play in, a Christmas village display, stuffed toys, toys for toddlers, toys for kids, everything one can dream of. Wonderful aisles of toys surrounded many displays in an organized fashion. You realized this would be so crowded within an hour, hence why it was a good spot for Hydra to carry out their plans here. Such a shame that horrid people would take advantage of a wonderful place like this for their own benefit. However, you looked to your left, seeing the place where the mall Santa Claus would be. You then looked through the window, seeing the Apple Store in clear view. No wonder Santa’s chair was where it was. Noted, you say in your head before wandering around the Toy Store, looking for the manager.

“Never been in a toy shop before?”

A quiet gasp leaves your lips as your eyes dash to the middle of the aisles. A burly man stands there almost leaning against the shelf as he takes your form in, eyeing your bundled self up and down.

You hold back the shudder that threatens to roll through you. Pulling on a tight lipped smile you finally find your voice, “Not necessarily that I haven’t been in one before, just haven’t quite seen one like this, it’s lovely,” you replied.

The man moves forward, almost as if he’s coming from the shadows, “You must be the new hire,” he grins, “Now tell me where did they find a Mrs. Claus as gorgeous as yourself.”

Oh god.

“I can assure you looks had nothing to do with it,” you ground out, “personality on the other hand well -” The man’s toothy smile grows wider as he steps closer, your fingers itching to find the comm hidden in your ear. “I think I’ll have plenty of time to get to know that personality of yours -- Mrs. Claus.”

“Is that how you talk to all your female coworkers?” came his voice from behind you, an edge to his tone. You tried your hardest not to tense up, as you recognized the voice, hoping that you two would not look suspicious or that you knew each other. The man in front of you looked over your shoulder with a raised brow, “And you are?” Bucky moved around you, body unknowingly shielding yours from the man in front of you.

Hand stuck out he replies, “Buddy, Buddy the elf.”

Your childish side gets the best of you, a choked snort leaving your mouth and raised eyebrows wrinkle your forehead, clearing your throat as the burly man scoffs at your boyfriend before he shakes Bucky’s gloved hands. You hoped that they would not recognize him, watching their interaction carefully.

“Mmm… I see… you’re the new hire for the...elf… playing like a smart ass already, huh? Not sure if the manager would like that.” The man tests, letting go of Bucky’s hand and crossing his arms, eying Bucky in a judgmental manner. A small smirk graces Bucky’s lips as his hands are now back in his pockets. “I assure you, I’m going to do my job correctly and won’t cause the store any problems. But, I think the manager will not enjoy hearing that you are hitting on an employee, or possibly hitting on a customer, as Santa Claus.” He retorts back. All of the tension that has been built was then forced to be forgotten when the manager greets you three.

“Good morning, Brock! I see you have met our newbies!” The manager exclaims, arms opening wide in a welcoming manner before he claps his hands together. You resisted widening your eyes, for you have heard of this name before. Some uncertainty came back to your mind, then. Brock can only grunt and nod, “Yes I did, sir.” As he glares at Bucky as Bucky shakes the manager’s hand and stares at you as you follow suit, he couldn’t help but feel something off. But what exactly was off? He decided to wave it off, for it could possibly be just the cockiness of this new worker. You on the other hand, gives him a perfect opportunity to perhaps get to know you better. You were far from bad looking and seemed naive first glance. He could deal with that, he concluded to himself, lost in his own thoughts as the manager showed the two of you around the store. Rumlow scoffed at himself before he went off to put his suit on.

It was not too long until the manager finished going over the respective jobs with you and Bucky. It eased your nerves knowing all you had to do was be nice with kids under a costume. It eased you even more knowing that this Rumlow guy leaves immediately after shift. You held your costume and wig, making your way to the women’s locker room to get dressed, only to be stopped by the manager.

“I hate to put this on you and George, Mary,” the manager starts, addressing your guys’ undercover names. “But do you think you and George can put up more decorations in the later part of your shift? We want to add a more Christmas spirit to this store, and the hours to see Santa today ends a good two hours before the closing of the store.”

“A-alrigh-”

“Oh! And you’ll be an elf too, so you can have a good reason to decorate without sticking out like a sore thumb, you know? Would ya look at that, Buddy the Elf with a partner right?”

Wait a minute, Fury did not tell you this part. You knew playing Mrs. Claus was going to be a big stretch, but Mrs. Claus and an elf?! You can hear Steve fail terribly at refraining from letting out a little snort. Cool reference to Elf, I love George’s creativity, it’s such a good idea, and here in New York too!” The manager exclaims excitedly, only receiving a tight lipped smile in return from you. “Then… I’ll be Jovie,” you manage to squeak out, before the manager exits. You groan to yourself before you change into your first costume of the day.

Although it was quite draining to deal with many fussing kids, your time as Mrs. Claus went by smoothly, for you found satisfaction in helping these kids have a happier holiday meeting Santa and his Mrs. Sadly, it was hard to find out where to find this hard drive on Steve’s end of the assignment, but Fury was right, for the gaze of this Santa Claus was for the most part fixed right on the Apple Store. He would find time between kids to murmur some quick orders or questions into his own comms, trusting the bustle of the store to deafen his conversation. However, you were able to hear some words leave his mouth, always making a personal note to hear him better later and to not make that mistake during Santa hours. Sadly, the search will have to continue tomorrow.

You were now dressed in your elf costume, the label Jovie now pinned on your costume (haha..) as you set up a ladder next to the big Christmas tree in the middle of the store. After some pictures, you finally had time to do what was asked of you. You were focused on your work until…

“You are very good at decorating that tree.”

You look behind and below at your boyfriend, laughing as you take in his cute green elf uniform and his tights. Your laugh only got less contained from there, as you realized his muscular thighs are definitely being shown and the top does not hide his muscular torso either. His gloved hands were now on his sides with a small playful scowl as you had to put the ornament down from laughing too hard.

“Oh, that’s no way to treat Buddy the Elf.”

“It’s just… it’s just too funny!” You say between laughs, causing Bucky to smile before decorating the tree alongside you. As you two decorate, you managed to make a compromise with the manager, allowing yourselves to show up to the store earlier than everyone to have the rest of the store decorated. With that being said, to your luck, the manager gave you both a copy of the key to the store by the end of the shift. Very lucky. You both walked out on separate times to the car, carrying out the bags with the uniforms that you both got today. You still did not let go of the elf costume, laughing much harder in the car on the way back to the apartment complex.

“Y/N, sweetheart, you don’t see me laughing at your costume!”

“Yeah, because I’m cute in it at the very least!” “I agree, but-”

“BUT MAN, THAT ELF COSTUME WAS JUST TOO FUNNY! Cute, but funny! Like who ever sees a brawny man play Buddy the freaking Elf?!”

“At least I don’t have to pretend to have wrinkles going in as Mrs. Claus!”

“Fair point.”

Steve met with you two at yours and Bucky’s apartment for dinner, having paid for takeout. “No luck with the hard drive unfortunately. I don’t even know where to start.” Steve sighs. “Well it’s not like you would, punk. That place looks big, and if the toy store’s back room is huge, I am sure Apple does too.” Bucky replies with a shrug finishing the last of his food. “Well, Buck and I have the excuse to come early to decorate. The manager gave us a copy of the key. Hopefully, we can find some leads from Rumlow’s locker. Although I doubt it, it can’t hurt to try.” You reply. Steve only nods, staying quiet as he finishes his food and throws the trash away. He was thinking.

“Alright, Rogers, I know you have something in your mind, so spill,” You push, leaning over against the table with a raised brow. Steve couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his face.

“A key too, huh?”

“What do you mean a key too, punk?” Bucky asks with a chuckle.

“I got one for the Apple Store too,” Steve replies with a smile, taking it out of his pocket and holding it up.

“Already?! But that’s Apple Steve, you’re new!” You start, cutting off when Steve stays quiet.

“Steven Grant Rogers don’t tell me that you stole it-”

“We are not stealing, we’re borrowing, doll, now hear me out,” Steve cuts you off with a firm tone. You could only gawk at him in surprise and cross your arms. “Alright I’m impressed. So what are we doing?” Steve smiles.

“Alright, we’ll make it a point to go early tomorrow. All of us. You do a run through of the locker room and watch out for any leads. I’ll look around Apple too. We’ll go from there as we go along.”

A nod of approval comes from you and Bucky, an excited smile coming from Bucky. You couldn’t help but giggle as you fully processed what measures Steve already took on his first day in, giving you nothing to do but shrug.

“Well I guess that settles it. Let’s rest up. We got quite the next few days coming up.”

Tags: @world-of-aus @world-of-aus-reads @whew-oh-em-gee @tomholland-96 @lordyitsjordy @letstalkaboutsebbaby @thee-soom-soom @lookiamtrying @vesper852 @hailhydra920

*if you want to be added to the tag list, do let me know via ask! ☺️

Part 3: Digging Deeper

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes scenario #buckybarnesxreader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fluff #mcu #fandom basurero fics #a christmas heist

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gallivantingheart · 5 years ago

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good luck charm

who?: gryffindor!chan x ravenclaw!reader

word count: 735

genre/s: hp!au, fluff

warnings: none

synopsis: chan, seeker and maknae of the gryffindor team wins the game again thanks to his good luck charm, you.

You jump about in the stands, frantically waving your red and gold flag. You don't look so out of place in the Gryffindor stands, wearing your black cloak and your boyfriends' house scarf that hides your own cool-toned tie. You watch as he zips across the open field, seemingly going nowhere. But, you know better.

"C'mon Chan! You got this babe! Go Go Gryffindor!" You yell, stamping your feet in a known rhythm to start a chant.

The roaring of the Gryffindor house swallows the rest of your cheers, but you still watch on as a chaser goes soaring past and Chan swerves suddenly, swinging round sharply to fly directly at you. He and the Ravenclaw seeker - a fellow housemate a year above you - tuck in close toward their broomsticks, eyes trained somewhere behind you. They drop dangerously low and the crowd screams in fright, ducking for cover. You feel the back draft whip your clothes. The commentary by Seungkwan has faded away as you watch the pair stick close. As they drop to a steep descent, Chan makes a break for it, hand outstretched. Pulling his fist to his chest he veers off, spinning as he whoops and yells. Once high enough, he thrusts it high, the golden glint of the snitch's softly fluttering wings catches your eye.

"And that's game over! Chan has caught the snitch in a win for Gryffindor! The maknae of the team has done it again!" Seungkwan announces.

You shake Sana, cheering in her ear as Chan makes a victory lap of the field. As the team gathers on the ground, you split from the crowd, already running down the stairs to the doors. You stand in the shadows, open enough to be seen but still out the way. You're heaving breaths, feeling your lack of athleticism scream in your lungs. Returning the equipment, the two teams shake hands and head in. Jihoon gives you a side glare at your attire and despite being a bad ravenclaw, you were being a good girlfriend. Chan had asked you specifically this time for you to cheer for him.

He had swung your hands between you. "Baby, I know your house is playing us this week, but it would really mean a lot to me if you would cheer me on this round."

You tilted your head. "But I always do anyway."

He smiled and shook his head, coming in closer. "I know, but...on my side - my colours, y’know? I really need you there. You're like, my good luck charm. Please?"

Of course you melted at that. Between his soft voice and pleading eyes, not to mention that little phrase you were hooked. You sighed and nodded. He beamed and wrapped you in a tight hug, swinging you side to side.

"Thank you." He leaned back to pull his scarf off, wrapping it lazily round your neck. "There, now you look just like a brave Gryffindor."

You smirk, discreetly inhaling the scent of his masculine floral. "If you don't look at my socks."

He'd laughed then, tucking you under his arm as he walked you to your advanced arithmancy class.

But back to the present, Chan catches your eye from under cover. With a blinding grin he breaks free of his teammates, broom in hand to meet you. It hits the grass when he meets you in favour of scooping you up for a tight hug, your toes dragging over the ground as you giggle in his ear.

“Congrats, Channie.” You say on a squeezed breath.

He pulls back to look at you, bright eyes glittering. “Thanks. But like I said, you’re my good luck charm - I couldn’t have done it without you.”

You roll your eyes at his gushing, but take the compliment anyway. When he finally puts you down, both teams have ditched you and you can see the rippling trail of black cloaks weave back up to the castle.

“Hey, lemme just change out of my gear and then we’ll see about sneaking you into the after party, okay?” Chan says, bending to scoop his broom back up.

You nod, ducking to peck his wind-whipped lips. “Sure. See you soon.”

He waves excitedly as he dashes off and you perch yourself against the wood wall of the stand, watching your superstar boyfriend dash off. As lovely as he looks, you hope you don’t see that image too often.

#caratwritersclub #chan #dino #seventeen chan #seventeen dino #seventeen fluff #seventeen au #seventeen fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenario #dino fic #dino imagines #dino scenarios #written

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anony-mony-moose · 5 years ago

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Let’s Stay Together - Izzy Stradlin x Reader (Part 2)

Y/N starts her new job, agrees that Izzy’s water is hot, and narrowly dodges an interrogation from Duff

warnings for swearing, mentions of drug use, and very mild Duff abuse (specifically his toe)

also on ao3 :)

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“First off, you gotta be able to clean dishes.”

“Oh don’t worry about that.” I delivered my most charming smile. “I’m a dab hand when it comes to soap and water, Angus.”

Izzy huffed quietly in amusement as he set down a chopping board, and I had to work to keep the pleasant expression on my face.

“I don’t doubt it, Y/N/N.” Angus replied jovially, eyes twinkling under his undulating brow. “Only other condition is I have to like you enough to be around you five days a week.”

I bit my lip and sighed dramatically. “Shit, well if it’s not meant to be... Where’s my coat?”

He belted out a laugh and strode further into the kitchen, slapping my back (and politely ignoring the way I jumped about a foot in the air).

“Come on, we gotta get you set up before the orders start. It’ll get real busy soon. You wouldn’t think so, on a Thursday afternoon...” He continued as he led me to the sinks at the back, marching past Izzy who shot me a wink and laughed silently at the mock-bewildered face I pulled.

There isn’t much you can explain about washing up, further than pointing to a sink and then some dishes, but Angus gave it a shot anyway, doling out helpful tips like, “This one’s the cold tap, that one’s hot. Be careful, alright? The hot water is pretty damn hot.” Eventually, mercifully, his commentary ran dry and he bustled over to dice veg with Izzy at one of the counters. A few hours passed with me scrubbing my way through various pots and pans, occasionally enjoying Angus’ happy chatter about this and that whenever service calmed down. He had something to say about just about everything, that man.

Although you wouldn’t know it from the way he spoke, Angus Walker was only in his early thirties. Smoking one too many packs a day for about ten too many years had reduced his voice to a low scratchy rumble, and it matched perfectly with the strange little rambling tales he liked to share. His funniest kitchen war stories usually centred around his time starting out in Chicago. They were also evidently his favourites to tell - he’d get properly invested, slipping into thickly accented voices for each character. The way he reminisced, you’d think he was referring to things that took place fifty years ago.

Although not especially close, we’d been familiar since I first arrived in LA. Of course, since Izzy got the job doing food prep for him at Andrea’s, we bumped into quite regularly - it was usually Angus who answered the back door, and he was very generous with Izzy’s smoke breaks whenever I came calling. Weirdly enough though, Duff had also previously worked for him at a bakery, which was conveniently only ten minutes up the road from the call centre I was temping at at the time (another job which bit the dust pretty fast). I used to pop by everyday over my lunch hour to chat with all the staff in the break room. Duff made a habit of stuffing my pockets on my way out with all the goods that didn’t survive the ovens, constantly trying to feed me up, and even back then Angus would always turn a blind eye.

All round, he was just a really nice bloke. Didn’t half harp on though, I mused, tuning in to follow the end of a lengthy discussion about the guy I’d replaced.

“Damn sight better to have you on the team, anyway.” He concluded, pottering away to rummage around for something in the walk-in. I turned and caught a knowing smirk from Izzy.

“Comin’ out for a smoke?” He asked, jerking his head towards the door.

I nodded and swivelled round to check with Angus.

“Sure honey, take all the time you need! I’ll hold down the fort over here!” He hollered in reply and I stifled a small laugh. I had a feeling he was just grateful for a new, even marginally more responsive ear to chew off as he worked - Izzy could be an absolute brick wall when he set his mind to it.

We stepped outside into a light drizzle and the man in question burst into laughter, ducking with a delighted grin as I clouted him round the back of the head.

“You are a such a fuckin’ flirt!” He wheezed, only spurred on by my unsuccessful attempts to look unamused. His shoulders shook as he plucked a crumpled pack of Marlboro’s from his back pocket, still chuckling as he passed one to me.

“Angus doesn’t mind.” I mumbled, glancing away to hide my smirk.

He cackled again. “No, he fuckin’ doesn’t.”

Our elbows knocked together, a short fit of giggles escaped me before I could properly stamp it down. My voice trembled when I replied, “My skills really are wasted on this shit, huh?”

All it took was a glance and we both devolved into hysterics again.

You could probably forgive us for feeling a bit crazed that afternoon. Neither of us had got even a glimpse of sleep, having been kept up all night by Slash and a steady supply of pills from his various pockets; the man really did have everything stashed away in there. The day had broken and morning was well on it’s way to noon when Slash finally left to restock, Izzy and I tagging along just for something to do. I didn’t have much memory of our bleary walk around town to find a dealer, apart from a single clear image of the cold, grey sunlight dancing over Izzy’s face. A little weird, granted, but I figured that could be easily blamed on the pills.

It was a bit of a miracle that we actually to made it to Andrea’s on time. It was even more of a miracle that we weren’t just turned away in our bedraggled state. Getting a good look now we were outside, Izzy still looked objectively awful, with big red rings shadowing his eyes and a slightly twitchy quality to all his movements. An unruly part of my brain helpfully reminded me that despite this, he was still extremely attractive. Another, more unruly part suggested that, yes, I definitely still wanted to shag him like this, and hey presto, now I was imagining him pinning me against that metal door and fucking those hangover jitters out of me. Christ.

No sleep, an ever-intensifying comedown, and an incorrigible imagination – the real miracle would be surviving to the end of this shift.

*****

“Sheena is-“ The words garbled as I dunked my head back under the showerhead to rinse. “A punk rocker, no-o-o-o-ow!” My feet slipped a little, stumbling over an empty beer can which floated above the drain, and I splashed my face to wash off the soapy water, still singing cheerily. “She’s a punk, punk,” I climbed out of the tub to snatch up the towel from the floor, (“A punk rocker!”) giving myself a quick once over (“Punk, punk-“) before hitching it up around me. (“A punk rocker-er!”) I shook my hair out enthusiastically and immediately winced as that stubborn hungover headache clattered around my skull again like an enraged bull, battering away at my temples. I could hardly wait to meet the guys and get a drink inside me, if only to get rid of the incessant pounding in my head.

I plugged on determinedly with the song, neatly bringing the chorus to an end as I left the bathroom (spoiler: she is still definitely a punk rocker). A wry grin was leering at me from the other side of the door.

“Is she now?”

I hid a smile and squeezed some more water out of my hair as I pushed past to search out some clothes.

“Yeah, weren’t you listenin’? I thought me and Joey made it pretty clear.”

A loud thunk sounded from the window. He brushed behind me to answer it, hand flitting over my bare shoulder briefly, and I swallowed as I sifted haphazardly through the accumulated rubbish on the floor for my skirt. I sighed, standing up to ask Izzy if he remembered where we’d lobbed it before, and the unkempt stranger outside jeered suddenly. How he had the energy, I had no idea. The sheen of sweat on his forehead hinted at a pretty nasty case of dopesickness – after all, that was why he’d come knocking.

“Shit, Stradlin, what else you got hidin’ in there?” My nose scrunched up in irritation, any sympathy vanishing instantly, but Izzy beat me to it.

“Fuck off.” He hissed and reached out to give him a harsh shove, and the man stumbled backwards, startled.

“Jeez, man, I was j-“ The window slammed shut in his face and he gawked through the dirty glass for a second before dashing off into the alley, probably remembering the fresh dose of smack in his hand. Izzy lingered, glowering at his retreating back. On second thoughts, maybe it was the glower that sent him running.

“Um, have you seen-“ I began as he turned and said, “I should’ve beat his fuckin’ ass for that. Sorry.”

I blinked, taken aback by the ferocity in his tone. “It’s fine, Iz.” He eyed me dubiously. “Really. I would’ve said the same thing, I mean-“ I flounced a hand across my body, adopting a terrible imitation of a Californian drawl, “Have you seen this bod?”

He snorted and produced my lost mini-skirt from somewhere in his unmade bed, offering it to me as he changed the subject abruptly.

“How was my shower?”

“Uh... Functional?” That was… An oddly pointed question. “I’m clean as a whistle now, so…” I yanked a pair of tights up over my arse and stepped into the skirt.

“Hot enough for you?”

So that was what he was getting at. I smirked drily and rolled my eyes as I clipped up my bra. “Put Nicky’s to shame.”

“Good to hear.” He handed me a dark blue shirt and watched me slip it on with a smirk to match mine. “You ready to head out?”

I glanced up, pausing my buttoning, to raise an eyebrow. “Feelin’ impatient, Izzy?”

His hands covered mine to fasten the last few buttons up to my chest, surely feeling the way my heartbeat revved up a little in anticipation. He dipped his head, just enough to lock eyes with me, that wicked smirk still firmly in place, and practically purred, “Always.”

*****

“Y/L/N!”

Duff waved me down as he left his apartment block, leaping out into the road and racing over to meet me outside Izzy’s building, barely avoiding a motorbike as it whizzed past.

“Hey, man.” His grin was infectious, bright even in the persistent spitting rain, and it managed to take some of the bite from my grumbling reply.

“You’re a bit chipper for this time in the afternoon, aren’t you?”

“You left very early last night.” No time to waste on small talk, apparently.

I started walking purposefully in the direction of the Strip, not sparing him a glance as he plodded along beside me. I didn’t have to see his face to know that there was still a teasing grin plastered all over it.

“You weren’t the only one.”

“I wasn’t?”

He raised his eyebrows, almost managing to keep a serious expression.

I bit down a giddy smile (Jesus, where was that coming from?) and dug my hands into the pockets of Izzy’s coat. “Piss off, Duff.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

I narrowed my eyes at him pointedly, (yep, there was the grin) and stopped to help shield him from the wind as he lit a cigarette. He repeated it and passed one to me.

“Cheers.” We strode on, my hair whipping and snapping around me like a whirlwind. I huddled further into the leather, firmly ignoring the unmistakeably Izzy scent that was ingrained in the collar, and the heat it sparked inside me.

“Gee, that’s a nice jacket you’re wearing.” Duff continued gleefully, a generous helping of sarcasm injected into his voice. I sighed and shook my head in exasperation. “Now where have I seen it before?”

I shot him an amused look. “What’s up, McKagan?”

“Who, me? Ohhh, nothin’ at all, zilch. Just makin’ a couple of observations, that’s all.”

“Sure about that?”

“Totally.” He paused as I dodged a frenzied woman in a pantsuit. “So many different things to observe, don’t you think?”

I snorted. “I don’t know, Duff, but I bet you’re gonna tell me.”

“You and Izzy disappear together last night, now you’re wearin’ his clothes this morning,” I checked, a little alarmed to find that I actually was wearing his shirt again today, while Duff threw his hands up in the air. “God, what could it all mean?”

I spluttered, laughing, and ducked under the awning of the liquor store to take one last drag of smoke before heading in. Of course, he followed me.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” The change rattled in my hand as I scoured the shelf in front of me, hardly paying attention to Duff swanning around on the side of the aisle.

“I’m just sayin’,” He called, “If I didn’t know better I’d say you two were gettin’ pretty cosy.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed another cheap bottle of rum, sidling past him to deposit everything at the checkout.

“Hey Al, how’s it goin’?” I sighed, counting out the last of my quarters on the tabletop.

“He givin’ you trouble, sweetheart?” He nodded gruffly over my head at the giant blonde softie behind me, currently inspecting the label of a bottle of red wine.

I laughed, trying to imagine what Duff might look like to an untrained eye. He could be pretty scary when he needed to, after all. “No, he’s fine.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Duff’s hands landed on my shoulders and I flinched a little despite myself.

“If you’re sure.” Al muttered under his breath, patiently divvying up my assortment of coins and dollar bills. “You got another fifty cents, honey?”

I winced. That was all the cash I had. Duff’s touch disappeared from my shoulders to delve into his jean pockets, rooting around hastily.

“Sorry man, that’s all I got. I’ll leave the-“

“No, no, don’t be silly. Owe me it, alright?”

“But hey, I have-“ I silenced Duff with a light stomp on his toe.

“Thanks mate, I really appreciate it.” I gathered up the bottles under my arm, promising to be back with the remainder soon.

“Hey, forget it Y/N. Tell you what, keep that fifty. Buy some fuckin’ breakfast next time, okay?”

I snickered and waved as we turned to leave. “Will do! See you later!”

The bell above the door jingled chirpily as we left and Duff paused to spark another couple of cigarettes for us before stepping back out into the street. I frowned as he continued back the way we’d just come. He hadn’t really just left his apartment to follow me to the shop, had he?

“Are you goin’ home?”

“Nah, I’m late for work.” He said, looking remarkably unfazed.

“Shouldn’t you be walkin’ the other way, then?”

“I’ll walk you back first.” I opened my mouth to protest but he forged ahead before I could. “Didn’t get to the bottom of my observations yet.”

I sighed and waited for him to continue, but he stayed quiet instead, even when Izzy’s building came back into sight.

“What do you want me to say?” I said finally. “I thought everybody knew already, we fuck now and then. It’s not exactly big news.”

We stopped outside the door and I puffed away the last few tokes of my cigarette as I waited for him to reply. He was smiling fondly at me, and I found it infuriating for some reason.

“And you’re sure it’s just sex?”

“Uh, yeah.” I frowned. “Is that not what I said?”

He was still smiling and appearing quite entertained by my confusion, and I shook him off, wrinkling my nose, when he reached down to ruffle my hair.

“You know, you’re a real dumbass, Y/N/N.”

I scowled. “Yes, thanks, I did know that.”

He rocked back on his heels to fix me with a calculating stare.

“What does Izzy think?” He said carefully. Huh?

“What the fuck d’you mean, what does-”

“Shit!” Duff blurted, eyes widening comically. “I gotta get to work!” He turned on his heel and started sprinting back into town, shouldering through the midday stragglers and throwing out frantic apologies as he barged past people. In the space of about ten seconds, he was gone, flying out of view round the corner with a final shout of “Come see me when you get your head outta your ass!”

I stood there, dumbfounded. What the hell did he mean by that?

Curiously enough, he wasn’t the only one who’d suggested… Well, whatever it was he’d been trying to suggest. Axl had pulled me aside when we were out the night before last, bellowing in my ear that he was happy for me and Iz, of all things. If that wasn’t unsettling enough, him and Slash had taken to calling Izzy’s apartment ‘the love nest’ since I’d started hanging around there constantly, bedding down with Izzy every single night this week - as if I needed a reminder. I spent more time there than I did anywhere else at the moment, and it was getting a bit ridiculous. I’d been offered a roof to crash under for one night, and here I was, a week later, making myself a permanent fixture. He hadn’t mentioned it yet though, which seemed kind of unusual for someone normally so blunt.

I was still lost in thought as I twisted the cap off one of the bottles and gulped down a bolstering mouthful of whisky, trudging into the hallway to rap on Izzy’s door. The whole thing was very weird, I decided, screwing the cap back on. Very weird, indeed. And here I was, returning again. Bloody hell, what a disaster.

But then the door swung open, and I was greeted with a greedy kiss, emitting a pleased (if a little surprised) moan. Izzy was just as gloriously naked as I’d left him, with keen hands pulling me inside and pushing me up against the back of the door to kiss the breath out of me, already stripping me of his jacket and depositing it in a heap on the floor next to the booze.

“You were gone a long time.” He gasped, somehow still managing an air of nonchalance, even as he tore my (his) shirt up over my head. I wriggled out of it and launched myself back into his embrace, pressing up for another filthy kiss. His hands carded through my damp hair, and he broke away panting, confused. “It’s rainin’?”

I huffed, laughing a little, and dragged him with me towards the bed. “You wanna talk about the weather right now?”

His mouth stretched out to form a grin, and crashed back into mine - and all thoughts of Duff and his oddly foreboding questions swiftly evaporated.

#izzy stradlin #izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin fanfiction #izzy stradlin fanfic #duff mckagan #axl rose #saul hudson #steven adler #gnr #gnr x reader #gnr fanfiction #gnr fanfic

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johannas-motivational-insults · 5 years ago

Note

Hi this is CatraCorner962! Can I get a commentary of the latest chapter of Live With It where Adora and Catra briefly reunite? Thank you so much! ☺️🙏🏼

@catracorner962 sorry for the delay, here it is. I’m just doing the snippet you most wanted to see because otherwise it will take too long. (Commentary is bolded.)

Man this whole scene/chapter is heartbreaking. Cathartic and healing in a way but it also really hurts. I mean I’m usually more into hurt/comfort than pure angst and I guess this fic is how I dealt with the pure angst of the original oneshot it’s based off of. Anyway, this is a conversation they really needed to have, and since they didn’t get to in life I gave it to them posthumously.

First of all, I would like to brag for writing the following line long before season 5 came out:

“I’m sorry too,” says Catra, holding her gaze intently. “For everything.”

Now skipping ahead to the snippet in question...

It’s several moments before a concrete thought finally crystallizes in Adora’s head, making her eyes flit to Catra with a frown. “How do you know how I feel?”

Turning her head, Catra blinks. “What?”

“You said I feel sad and guilty all the time. How did you know?”

“You mean besides knowing you like I do?” teases Catra. (Ooo, that is what my fellow Millennials would call a sick burn.) Her eyes flick back up to the stars, voice going solemn. “When the living think or speak of me, I hear them. That’s… that’s why I can forgive you. I never understood how you felt before. I didn’t want to understand.” Her throat bobs as she turns back to Adora.

Look, we all know if Catradora had just fucking talked to each other about how they really felt instead of hiding behind a bunch of posturing the series would’ve been over really quick. Especially if they’d had a mediator to help translate given their different values and communication styles. But if Catra had ever known just how much Adora loved and missed her, things would have been so different. I’m just really glad canon turned out the way it did, not like this.

“I… I get that,” admits Adora. “I was hurt when you didn’t come with me the first time, and I didn’t even try to understand why. It was easier to write you off as evil, like the rest of the Horde. But when you saved me in the Fright Zone, then in the Crystal Castle, I couldn’t believe that anymore. I realized I never should have stopped trying.” (A little too late. Look, I still stand by my comments that Adora did not do enough early on to try to repair their friendship and it really widened the rift between them.) Scoffing inwardly, Adora glares up at the stars. “Guess I didn’t learn my lesson after all.”

Catra shrugs with a half-hearted smile. “To be fair, I didn’t give you much motivation to keep trying.”

Regret aches in Adora’s chest, but it’s lingering heartbreak that makes her lip quiver and tears sting her eyes. This question has been killing Adora for a good seven years. She can’t very well not ask it now.

“Why didn’t you come with me? Did-” The word catches in Adora’s throat and she has to swallow. “Did you not love me enough?”

And likewise, if Adora had known just how much Catra loved and missed her, things would have also been different. Even in canon this miscommunication leads to so much tragedy.

Also, owwwww.

“What?” Catra is suddenly on her side, one ear raised in alarm as she stares down at Adora. “No, don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that,” she commands. (I love how she says this. That is the last thing Catra ever wants Adora to think.) When Adora says nothing, looking up at her with a mix of awe and fear, she sighs and lets her face go softer.

“Adora, I have loved you for as long as I can remember,” declares Catra. “The reasons I didn’t go, well… they weren’t great. First I was mad that you ran off and let me get punished for you, then I was mad you wouldn’t come back with me so I wouldn’t get punished more. And I was really, really mad that it had never occurred to you before that the people who raised us were evil, after everything they did to me. To us.” Catra blinks away, but not before Adora sees the pain in her eyes. “I knew you were right in wanting to leave, but I couldn’t understand why you’d never asked me earlier, why you only started caring when you saw other people getting hurt.”

This is Thaymor For Dummies/Catra 101. If you don’t understand this much, you’re not gonna understand her character or arc.

“I did care. It just… it seemed normal,” is the best defense Adora can come up with. “It was how things were. And I knew it wasn’t fair, but I didn’t know how to make it right. Before that day I thought the outside world was full of princesses and other hostiles who would eat us alive. I didn’t even know there was hope for a life anywhere else.” (Having grown up in a toxic religious bubble I absolutely understand this aspect of Adora’s defection and it needed to be said.) Her eyes fall to the ground in shame. “I tried to protect you from Shadow Weaver, but it was never enough. I’m sorry.”

Gentle fingers tilt her chin up, calling her eyes back to Catra’s. “Hey, listen, that’s not your fault,” Catra assures her. “Okay? That was her fault, Adora, not yours. She was going to hurt me no matter what either of us did. (Hindsight is 20/20, huh Catra?) She despises me, always has and always will.” (Ah, or deathsight should I say? That mindreading comes in handy.) Catra’s gaze goes distant for a moment. “Thanks for what you said to her, by the way. Back at the wake.”

Adora blinks, struggling to even recall the conversation beyond a lot of yelling and the gut punch of a reminder that she was to blame for much of Catra’s pain. In her defense, she’d eaten a large hallucinogenic root all at once and was really fucking high. (We needed a dash of levity in this heavy chapter, so voila.) “Which part?”

The corner of Catra’s mouth twitches up into a soft smile. “I’m just glad you remember the real me,” she says. “Not just the me who destroyed the world, the,” she flops onto her back with emphatic jazz hands, “‘evil stain on Etheria.’” There’s a bitter undertone of seriousness in her voice that makes Adora frown.

Rolling onto her side, Adora lays a hand on Catra’s stomach. “You were hurting. No one showed you any compassion, not even me. Not when you really needed it.”

I mean Scorpia did I guess but tbh Scorpia didn’t understand what was going on, and it’s hard to show meaningful compassion when you don’t understand a situation or know why someone is hurting. This is more in reference to Shadow Weaver and Glimmer, and Adora herself. And it’s not totally accurate but it’s Adora’s perception of the situation long after.

“Doesn’t make any of it right,” Catra says to the sky. She sighs heavily, and when she finally meets Adora’s gaze there’s a sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. “I can never make it right, but I wish I could. You know?”

“Yeah, I do know,” Adora tells her. “That’s how I feel too. But I guess you already know that.”

Catra nods wordlessly, and Adora doesn’t know what else to say, so she lies back down.

God this is so tragic. They both see their own faults now but it’s past the point where they can make it up to each other and anyone else they hurt (in Catra’s case). I am so grateful that in canon we got to see them growing together at the end, coming back from their individual journeys in a position to be better for each other now.

And yes, I do still plan to finish this fic but it’s hard to write something that’s such a downer after the happy ending we got. Much of the next chapter is already written, though. Mermista is Adora’s therapist. ;)

#ask games #director's commentary #fanfic #writing #live with it #asks #catracorner962

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cyborgsquirrel · 5 years ago

Text

Sanctuary: Chapter 18

Pairing: Wolfstar

Summary: The epic tale of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, from their first meeting until their happily ever after.

Link to Prologue

Link to All Chapters

Saturday, 2nd October 1971, 1:15 pm

As September melted into October, a noticeable chill fell over the castle. If one woke before sunrise and looked out of the window, they would be treated to the sight of the green lawns coated with a silvery frost, but there was still enough warmth in the air that it disappeared with the coming of dawn.

Remus was not looking forward to the full moon in two days' time, but he was pleased he'd be spending it in the fire-warmed house in Hogsmeade, and not in the garden hole his dad had dug for him. He had been hoping to get plenty of rest over the weekend. The full moon that month fell on a Monday, their busiest day of the week, with no free periods and three magically demanding classes. It was going to be exhausting. Unfortunately, James had other ideas for their Saturday.

'It's the Quidditch try-outs. We have to go!'

'But I'm tired, James. I don't really want to do anything this weekend.'

'You don't have to do anything, just sit and watch.'

Remus found it difficult to argue with that. He couldn't explain that it wasn't just a physical tiredness but a deep spiritual one that throbbed all the way down to his soul. No one would understand if he said that the slightest sound made his ears ring and his brain buzz. They would think him a freak if he tried to explain that every scent burnt his nose and choked his breath.

Remus turned away from James so he wouldn't see the pain in his expression when he climbed off the bed. 'Alright. I'll come. Let me get my cloak.'

James cheered, and Remus cringed at the sound.

When they got down to the common room, Sirius looked surprised to see him. 'I thought you were going to have a nap?'

Remus shrugged. 'James persuaded me to come.'

Sirius frowned at James but didn't say anything further.

'Come on then. What are we waiting for?' Peter asked. He was wearing a Gryffindor hat and scarf set and had painted his face in red and gold stripes. They looked glittery.

'You know this is just the try-outs, don't you, mate? It's not a match,' Remus said.

Peter laughed. 'I know, I just really wanted to test the paints.'

They made their way out to the Quidditch pitch where the try-outs were being held, and Remus found the cool air soothing on his aching joints. He couldn't understand why the pain had started so much earlier this month. It didn't usually hurt until the day of the full moon.

When they reached their destination, they took seats in the Gryffindor area of the stands, and Remus breathed a sigh of relief that he was sitting down again. But it was to be short-lived because, when the potential team members arrived and began displaying their skills, the noise was horrendous. People cheered for their favourites and their friends; James was keeping up a running commentary next to him, and Peter was whooping every few minutes. Sirius, though, was uncharacteristically quiet. Remus was grateful for it, even if it didn't make that much difference to his overall level of suffering.

Sirius bent close to him, and Remus fought against his instinct to move away. He trusted Sirius. There was no need to behave like a frightened animal with him. 'Mate, you look like shit. Why don't you go back in? I'll deal with James. I told him not to bother you in the first place.'

'I think I will. I'll go to the library though and see if I can find out anything about the belch powder. James can't complain about me missing tryouts if I'm working on the Halloween display.'

Sirius smiled. 'Good idea, it's quiet in the library. I'll see you later.'

Remus waved goodbye, and as he walked away, he heard James ask Sirius where he was going but didn't hear the reply.

When he reached the library, he browsed the shelves until he found a book on joke-shop products, and then he found a little room with beanbags, on which he curled up to read. It wasn't long until he fell asleep.

-o-o-o-o-

Sirius sat on his bed, putting the finishing touches on his Herbology essay about the care of jewelweed seedlings. It was due first period on Monday, and he didn't want it hanging over his head all the next day when he was trying to have fun. He glanced at his watch for the fifth time in five minutes. Remus still hadn't returned from the library, and it had been eight hours since he left them in the Quidditch stands. How long did it take to do a little research? Sirius couldn't actually answer that question. He'd never done research in his life. Maybe eight hours was a reasonable amount of time. However, it was twenty minutes past curfew, and Remus had no way of getting back to Gryffindor tower without being caught.

'James, I want to go look for Remus. Can I borrow the cloak?'

James glanced up from his own work, looked at his watch and raised his eyebrows, presumably surprised by the time. 'Of course, you don't have to ask. I'd come with you, but I really need to get this homework done. I still have McGonagall's to do after this,' he said, nodding to the parchment he was working on.

'No worries, I'll be quicker alone anyway.'

'Where are you going to look?'

Sirius shrugged. 'He said he was going to the library, so I'll try there first.'

'If he's not there, try the hospital wing. He didn't look too good earlier.'

If you noticed that, why did you drag him out of bed? Sirius thought, but he kept it to himself. He didn't want to start an argument when Remus was missing.

'Good idea,' he said instead, grabbing the silvery cloak from the top of James' trunk before dashing to his own trunk and then Remus'.

'See you later.'

'Good luck,' James and Peter both said, almost in unison. Sirius grinned and waved as he left the dorm room.

Sirius made his way down the Grand Staircase to the library, hidden under the cloak. The castle looked so different at night, and he'd never been out after curfew alone before. It was a little scary. The lights were dimmer and the shadows darker. Sirius felt the sensation of eyes watching him from the gloomy recesses. But that was impossible. He was invisible, for Merlin's sake.

When he reached the door to the library, he found it was locked up for the night. Damn. What was that spell Remus used to get into Flitwick's office the weekend before? Aloe vera? No, that was a plant. Aloemore? Mora? Alohomora? Yes! That was it. He hadn't been able to do it before, but that was just a game. This was far more important. If he didn't get it right, Remus could be shut in the library all night. He could be injured. Or really sick. What if Sirius was wrong about the lycanthropy and Remus was actually sick with something else? Something less predictable. Oh Gods, what if he was in there dying? Sirius had to master this spell. He just had to.

Having worked himself up into a panicked ball of nerves, Sirius clutched his wand and pointed it at the lock. Repeating what he'd seen Remus do to his journal, he moved his wand anti-clockwise and spoke the incantation. Nothing happened.

He tried again. 'Alohomora! Alohomora! Alohomora, you fucking bastard of a lock!'

Okay, he needed to calm down. Sirius took a deep breath, focused all his willpower on his desire to get that lock open, and tried one more time. 'Alohomora,' he said, enunciating every syllable. The lock clicked open. Yes! I am brilliant! he thought, before pushing the door open and hurrying inside. Now, if I were Remus, where would I be?

Sirius jogged up and down the aisles, looking into the various nooks and crannies and checking the rooms that led off the main space. Five minutes into the search, he found him purely by chance. He had poked his head into a small room that had piles of beanbags for students to curl up on. Finding it empty, he had been about to leave and check the next room when he heard a loud snore followed by a shuffle. Sirius crossed the room in three quick strides and discovered Remus, sleeping, crammed between the wall and an enormous orange beanbag. He must have rolled off at some point. Sirius just stared at him for a minute. He looked so tiny next to the giant beanbag, curled into a ball.

Sirius was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of a hacking cough that was far too close for his liking. He pulled the cloak off, crouched down next to Remus and said as loud as he dared, 'Remus, wake up.'

Remus snorted and rolled over. Urgh, if only he could shake him.

'Seriously, Remus, you need to wake up.'

Remus' eyelids fluttered. 'Huh. Wha'? Wha's goin' on?'

'You fell asleep in the library. It's after curfew, and I think there must have been a warning ward on the door because someone's here.'

Remus sat up and blinked rapidly. 'Sirius?'

'Yes, it's me. We need to get out of here.'

A gravelly voice sounding almost gleeful came from nearby. 'I know you're in here. You'll be in so much trouble when we find you.'

'Shit. It's Filch,' Sirius said, running a hand through his hair from the stress of the situation. 'We'll be in big trouble if we're caught in here. I know you don't like to, but do you think you can cope with being under the cloak with me for a few minutes?'

Remus glanced down at his bare hands and back at Sirius. His eyes were wide and scared.

'Here,' he said, pulling two pairs of gloves from his pockets. 'I brought gloves for both of us, and I'll be really careful not to touch your face, I promise, but we really do need to hide.'

Remus hesitated and then nodded. 'Okay.'

Sirius handed one pair of gloves to Remus, and he put the other pair on. 'Thank you for trusting me. You won't regret it. Get up.'

Remus got to his feet, slipped the book he'd been reading into his bag, stepped over the beanbag to stand next to him, and let Sirius swing the cloak over their shoulders and pull the hood up to cover their heads. Just in time. A moment later, Filch appeared at the door to the reading room and they froze, not even daring to breathe.

-o-o-o-o-

Oh, Gods. Sirius smelled so good. All he wanted to do was turn his head and bury his face in his neck. That couldn't be a normal human urge. Other people didn't go around wanting to smell each other. Merlin, he was a freak. Sirius threw the cloak over their shoulders and pulled the hood up, and suddenly his scent was even more concentrated. It was overwhelming. Remus stopped breathing, and in the same moment, Filch appeared in the doorway, holding a lantern.

He didn't enter the room, thankfully. Just glanced around and moved on. Sirius let out a relieved breath next to him. Remus' lungs were screaming at him, and he gave in and sucked in a deep breath. Merlin, how could anyone smell so damned delicious. No! Not delicious. That made Sirius sound like food. He smelled… divine? Intoxicating? No, those weren't quite right either. Remus wracked his brain, entirely focused on the singular problem of finding the right word to describe the scent of Sirius.

Comforting.

Yes, that was it. Sirius smelled comforting. Like curling up in a favourite chair next to a roaring fire with a good book. Remus wanted to curl up on Sirius.

'Mate? You okay?' Sirius whispered. 'You're not freaking out are you?'

Gods, Sirius would be disgusted if he knew what he was thinking. He needed to snap out of it.

'No. I'm okay. We should go.'

'Alright. This is going to be really difficult if we're trying not to touch. Do you think you can cope with putting your arm around me like on the broom?'

Remus wasn't sure he could. It had been easier before, out in the open air and more than a week until the moon. Now, under the confines of the cloak, with Sirius' scent overwhelming him and the wolf so close to the surface, would it be too much?

He tentatively wrapped his arm around Sirius' waist. The warmth of his body bled through both layers of fabric and set his nerves tingling. His head was dangerously close to Sirius' shoulder, though. It shouldn't be an issue. His shoulder was covered by his school robes, but Remus wasn't comfortable with only one layer of fabric between their skin. He let go and moved away.

'I can't do it. It's too close,' he said, feeling his face heat with embarrassment. Gods, he made everything so difficult. Why did Sirius put up with him?

Sirius showed no signs that Remus' inability to co-operate bothered him. He just moved straight on to the next solution. 'Okay, what about if we link arms like the girls do all the time? They seem to be able to walk together like that.'

Remus nodded, and Sirius crooked his arm. He laced his arm through the gap and felt their elbows hook together. It was okay. There was plenty of distance between their exposed skin. This would work.

He glanced up and found Sirius looking down at him, awaiting his verdict. 'I'm good. This is good.'

Sirius grinned. 'Excellent. Let's go.'

They started towards the door, and the movement of air caused by their motion wafted a fresh blast of Sirius' scent into Remus' face.

He inhaled through his nose on purpose, relishing in their proximity and his ability to soak in his scent. Then he felt a wave of shame. He was behaving like an animal. Like a beast. He tried to stop, but he couldn't. The allure of it was too powerful. He wanted to drown in it.

They had reached the Grand Staircase, and Sirius guided him up the steps. Remus' head was swimming, and he tripped a couple of times, but Sirius held him upright by keeping his arm solid and unmoving.

'Almost there now, Remus.'

He felt like his whole body was on fire. Every part of him tingled with the heat from Sirius, and he was surrounded by the scent of him.

The soft thump of Sirius' heartbeat filled his ears. It was racing. Was he scared? Remus didn't want him to be scared. He whimpered.

'You okay there, mate?'

'Yes,' Remus managed to croak out. He was far from okay. Every part of him was focused entirely on Sirius. His smell, his heat, his heartbeat, the sound of his breathing in the silent hall. Merlin, was he hunting? Is that what this was? Was the wolf inside him hunting his friend? Gods, he wasn't fit to be around people. Sirius was just trying to help him, and he was taking advantage. He was despicable.

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, and Remus tore himself away from Sirius. Turning his back on him so he wouldn't see the wolf in his eyes. He bent over with his hands on his knees and panted, taking deep, Sirius-free breaths of clean air and trying to clear the smell from his nose and his mind. Behind him, he heard Sirius give the password.

'Come on, mate. Let's get inside,' Sirius said, sounding worried.

Yes, inside. Safety. Remus' thoughts were scattered and erratic. One moment he wanted nothing more than to be close to Sirius. The next, he was recoiling from him. But he somehow managed to pull himself together enough to scramble through the portrait hole into the common room. Sirius led him to a secluded corner and got him to sit down.

'Talk to me.'

Remus stared at his hands. There was no way to explain what he was feeling, and he felt so ashamed. 'I'm okay. It was just a really long time. I'm sorry.'

'Sorry?' Sirius repeated with a snort. 'For what? Being incredibly brave and amazing?'

Remus looked up at him. 'Brave? How can you call me brave? I can't even touch someone without freaking out.'

'And yet you did,' Sirius said. 'Twice. Knowing how it would make you feel, you still did it. And one of those times was just so we could win a stupid game. If that's not bravery, I don't know what is.'

Remus felt like absolute shit. Sirius was praising him, and in reality, all he'd done was put him in grave danger. Gods, he was so selfish, risking infecting his friend with this vile disease just so he wouldn't lose them a game or get caught out of bounds after curfew. Was avoiding detention really worth destroying his friend's entire life? He couldn't ever let it happen again. Next time he would just take the detention.

'Remus?'

'Yeah, sorry. I think I just need to be alone for a bit. I'm going to go to bed.'

'Alright. I'll come up with you.'

Remus hurried up the stairs without looking at Sirius, greeted James and Peter and got straight into bed without even undressing. Despite his exhaustion from the coming moon, sleep did not come easily to him that night. And when he finally did succumb, he had horrifying dreams of Sirius tearing himself apart and erupting into a wolf, while his screams echoed in his ears. 'This is all your fault, Remus. Why did you do this to me?'

-o-o-o-o-

Sirius woke up on Monday morning well aware that there would be a full moon that night. and he intended to keep a close eye on Remus. He was almost certain he was right, but today would prove or disprove his suspicions.

Remus was difficult to wake up that morning, which probably wouldn't have seemed that odd, but he'd slept most of Sunday away and Sirius had found him asleep in the library on Saturday, although he didn't know how long he'd been sleeping for. He really shouldn't be that tired.

They got him out of bed eventually, though, and headed down to breakfast. Sirius offered to join him in the kitchen, but Remus declined, so he followed James and Peter into the Great Hall, a little annoyed that he wouldn't know if Remus actually ate anything.

'Do you think Remus is okay?' James asked. 'He looks ill.'

Sirius tried to deflect. 'He's probably just getting a cold or something.'

Thankfully, they were distracted by the morning post arriving. James received a large box, wrapped in plain brown paper.

'It's from my dad. He's sent the belch powder for Halloween. I'll open it later,' he said, tucking it into his bag quickly.

Peter was staring at the teacher's table. 'McGonagall's getting a lot of post this morning.'

Sirius turned to look. He was right. Seven different owls had deposited parcels in front of her, and she had a wide smile on her face as she spoke to Dumbledore.

'Must be her birthday or something,' he said.

After breakfast, they met back up with Remus in the Entrance Hall and headed out to the greenhouses for Herbology. After an hour spent planting lemongrass, Remus looked ready to collapse. Thankfully, Transfiguration was next, and the first half of the double period was theory, so he was able to sit down for a while. They were learning how to combine the theory of transfiguring an object's colour and material, so they could change both at the same time. Remus dozed off several times, and Sirius was forced to kick his chair to wake him up. During the second half of the lesson where they were attempting to turn a red matchstick into an orange needle, Remus didn't even try. That was strange, but stranger still, McGonagall didn't say a word to him, despite reprimanding three other students for not putting enough effort in.

The evidence was stacking up.

After lunch, they had their second Charms lesson on diffindo and were supposed to be slicing through a piece of cloth, but again Remus just sat with his head on the desk and Flitwick ignored him entirely. Sirius pretended not to notice.

The final lesson of the day was Defence, and Professor Hawthorne lectured them on the chupacabra. Remus looked up briefly with vague interest when Emhio shifted into the creature but made no notes, and Lily seemed quite concerned about him.

Sirius had used his astronomy book the night before to do the calculations and worked out that moonrise was at ten past six. So he was unsurprised when Remus announced on their way to dinner that he was going to go to the hospital wing because he felt unwell. He was leaving more than an hour before moonrise. Did that mean he had to travel a long way? Or that he'd be too out of it to travel at all if he waited much longer? Where did he go? Surely he didn't really spend the night in the hospital wing? Sirius had so many questions.

After dinner, Sirius, James and Peter went to their daily meeting with the birthday person of the day. That day was a fifth-year Hufflepuff called Chris Fletcher. He arrived at exactly six o'clock and greeted them in an upper-class accent. 'Good evening, I hope you are well.' Sirius rolled his eyes.

Then the unexpected happened. Chris was unable to open the door to the room, never mind blow out the candle.

'But it is my birthday,' he said for the tenth time.

'Well, it seems the door disagrees, perhaps you should write to your mother and find out what's going on?'

Fletcher nodded and left, and Sirius turned to James and Peter.

'What the fuck are we going to do? It's only three hours until curfew!'

'We need to find someone else with a birthday,' James said.

'How?' Sirius said. 'We can't just run around the school randomly asking people.'

'McGonagall!' Peter yelled. Sirius and James jumped.

'Where?' Sirius said, spinning around on the spot.

'No. I mean, McGonagall got all those parcels at breakfast this morning.'

'You're right!' James said. 'Do you think she'll do it?'

'Only one way to find out,' Sirius said, already running down the stairs.

They reached McGonagall's office in record time, and James knocked on the door, rather louder than was necessary. They were shocked when it was answered by Professor Dumbledore.

'Hello. You three look to be in an awful hurry.'

James was too stunned to speak, so Sirius took over. 'Sorry, sir. We were looking for Professor McGonagall.'

'Well. I assumed as much. This is her office, I believe,' he said, looking at the sign on the door as if wanting to confirm he was, in fact, in the right room.

'Albus, stop teasing the children. Come in. What can I do for you?'

Dumbledore chuckled and stood aside to allow them entrance. They walked into the office and found Professor McGonagall sitting on one of the two armchairs, a glass of pale green liquid in her hand. Another glass was on the table.

'Professor. We may need your help. But first, I have to ask, is it your birthday today?' Sirius said.

She inclined her head. 'It is.'

'Brilliant. Happy birthday.'

'Thank you. But I'm fairly certain you didn't come here just to wish me a happy birthday.'

'No. We need your help.'

'With?'

Sirius took a deep breath and launched into the explanation complete with wild hand gestures. 'Well. Three weeks ago we found a hidden door. We figured out how to open it. Well, Remus did. And inside was a birthday cake and a poem on the wall. It said if we could blow out the candle on the cake every day for twenty-eight days in a row, we would be rewarded. But it can only be blown out by someone on their birthday. We managed to find someone for every day, but the person who was supposed to do it today, well, it didn't work. We're not sure why. Maybe he was born a minute after midnight and the clock was wrong?'

'So you want me to come and blow the candle out so you don't have to start again?'

'Yes. You see if we miss a day the room will move and we'd have to find it again. We really want to know what's inside. Please, will you help.' Sirius put on his most pleading expression. James actually got down on his knees and put his hands together.

Dumbledore chuckled. 'It sounds very interesting. I've heard rumours of this birthday cake room. I'd rather like to see it for myself.'

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at him. 'I will help on one condition.'

'Anything,' Sirius said, rather rashly.

'I want to be present on the twenty-eighth day in case this "reward" is dangerous.'

James jumped to his feet. 'That's no problem at all. The last day is the fifteenth, and we'll be doing it at six o'clock.'

'Well then,' Professor McGonagall said, standing up. 'Lead the way.'

They led the headmaster and their head of house through the school and up to the seventh-floor landing where Sirius opened the portrait with a dramatic, 'Congratulations.'

'How did you find out the password?' Professor Dumbledore asked with interest.

'The portrait of Silas down there told us,' Sirius said, pointing, and Dumbledore nodded.

'You have to tell the door it's your birthday and be telling the truth to open it,' James explained.

'And how did you work that out?' Professor McGonagall asked.

'Remus translated the runes.'

'Impressive,' she said. 'It is my birthday.'

The door clicked open with the usual quiet fanfare sounding from the surrounding walls. Dumbledore looked around at the noise.

'Fascinating,' he said.

They walked in, and the two professors read the poem on the wall and glanced at the glowing lights. There were sixteen of them by that

point.

'Are those lights keeping track?' Dumbledore asked. They all nodded. 'You're doing very well. Can I ask how you recruited your volunteers?'

'We made posters and hung them on the notice-boards in the common rooms,' Sirius told him.

'Indeed? Very industrious.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Shall I proceed?' Professor McGonagall asked, arching an eyebrow.

'Ah yes. Please go ahead. I'm quite anxious to see what happens.'

Professor McGonagall bent down and blew out the candle. The fanfare sounded, and a seventeenth light glowed to life on the wall above the words, Happy Birthday, Minerva McGonagall. A moment later the candle re-lit itself.

'Fascinating,' Professor Dumbledore said again, clapping his hands together. 'I do so love a mystery. Congratulations on your find, boys, and we will see you here on the fifteenth. I'm very excited to see what's through that door.' He smiled at them, and he and Professor McGonagall left.

'Minnie's great, isn't she?' Sirius said, grinning at his friends.

Chapter 19

#wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #remus x sirius

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kcystotheheart · 5 years ago

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{🍎} I don’t feel like i got all of them but MASSIVE TAG DROP/DUMP

♡ Home is where the Heart is... {IC}

✧ I foresee the end of all I know... {Ava}

#☪︎I'm howling with the wolves {Fida}

#✦ Breaking Traditions {Sub Alt V.} ⚔︎

#☮︎You are the future; the hope of this world... {Hope}

#♟Hidden from the rest of the World… Until now {Wandering V.} ✧

#🍎of someone's eye {Mun}

#✎ We may feel out of place; but we fit together so perfectly... {X Ventus} #♔♡ Eventually we all return to it... Kingdom Hearts {S A V E D} #⚖︎ I will keep a just and fair eye... {Invi} #♘ They look to me for Guidance... {Ira} #Heartless; Dusks; Unversed? All the same {Anon} #❥ ANSWERED

#✎ He's a work in progress and that's what matters! {Vanitas/tenebrxsus}

#✎ The Light to my Darkness; he makes up what I lack... {X Vanitas}

#✧ He may be all brawn; but he has the biggest heart {Aced/ursaced}

#✧ You wouldn't hurt me; I know... {X Aced} #✦ The Beginning of it all… {Past V.} ♙ #➳ All right; No more playing around! {Hayner} #♡ It's time to strike {Open Starter} #♔ Beyond the realms... {OOC} #♥︎ I'll find my way... {Riku} #✎ Let's make a promise; To hold each other through it all {X Riku} #♤ I won't fade away so easily! {Lingering Remnant!Vanitas} #♠︎ Different from the rest... {Springy/Hareraiser} #♥︎ Once a Somebody... now a Nobody {Nobody V.} ♤ #✦ A little Generosity never hurt nobody~ {Cari} #✦ He thinks he's sooo good; but I know he's bad~ {Indus/ursaced} #✦ Momma I'm in love with a criminal; I'm the bad guy duh~ {X Indus} #♡ We'll never let the darkness consume us... {Queue}

🎲 May Lady Luck be on your side~ {Fortune} 💘 No matter what happens i’ll always be by your side {Faith} ⚔️ That was undeniable proof that we totally owned you lamers! {Seifer} ⌨️ Cracking the {Code} 🌱Rough around the edges by soft on the inside [Jagged} 🌿 My Strength will help support them… {Aced} 🌟 I will always help the weak {Starlight} 🍃I’ll sweep you up and leave your head spinnin’! {Wind} 🛡 I will always defend them {Keeper} 🃏 Care to take a Gamble? {Luxord/Ordul} 🎵I can drop a beat {Demyx/Dyme} 🎼 Let me play a song for you~ {Arpeggio}

⚠︎ You make me feel things I thought were lost {X Lauriam} ♟ More alike than you know {Rei/solaimaginem} ✎ Even after all this time… we’re connected. {Terra/willfulwayfarer} ✎ We’ll find new secrets to discover… together! {Pence/dxgstreet} ✎ I want to capture this moment {X Pence} ➸✮ Blessed or Cursed with magic that runs within him {Magia} #🎐My Lazy Companion {Sir Snugglesopholis the Flood} #♝ I will prove my worth... {Xionort} #𝒳 No one will know... {Subject X V.} ⭑ #No longer Lost {Naminé; Vanitas & Repliku } #✎ We've had tough pasts but we can move forward {Aiden/lethargic-hunter} #♟We've cut our own strings and now we're free {Xion & Repliku} #Made a sacrifice {Repliku} #Always busy saving everyone else... {Aqua} #☯︎ Disciplinary Committee {Fuu; Seifer & Rai} #yOU leFT mE... {Nightmare Chirithy}

#Why does everything involve running? {Pence}

#Not your Typical Princess... {Kairi}

#Fun and Playful; Strong and Powerful {Ventus}

#♠︎ A little noisy... {Skitters/Flood}

#☓ Always watching; always seeing~ {Master of Masters}

#⭑ How bright is the future? {Skuld}

#♚ Stuck in Between Worlds... {Lingering V.} ♤

#✨I'll learn to use my magic for good {Apprentice V.} ✎

#✎ He understands me like no one else does {Max/pageofgoof}

#🍀I've got a present too; for all of us! {Olette}

#He once wandered the darkness seeking light; only to find he was the light {Riku}

#His smile brings about other people's happiness {Sora}

#👁‍🗨If only I could stand in her light... {Ava/verumheart}

#👁‍🗨If I could begin to be; half of what you think of me I'd do about anything {X Ava}

#🍀She sits by the Seashore {Kairi/thalassicradiance}

#✎ I'll never forget you; promise? {X Sora}

#♜ We all have our Roles to Play... {Foreteller V.} ♠︎

#♗ I have made mistakes & have more regrets than you could imagine {Master Eraqus}

#One of the strongest wielders there is {Terra}

#🎐My lovely little Pearl... {Kairi/thalassicradiance}

#♡ Something that simply resonates with me... {Aesthetic}

#➦ Portal Time {Shooter}

#➥ Eagle Eyes {Sharp}

#🌪Whispers on the Wind {Gale}

#♤ The Nobody that never was... {Kuxir}

#🎐When things are tough; I'll always welcome you home... {Ansem/afoolelopedindarkness}

#✦ I have to complete my role... {Sacrificed V.} ✧

#♡♔ Kingdom FARTS {Crack}

#♟No longer just a vessel... {Xion}

#♣︎ No one would miss me... And yet... {Roxas}

#☀︎ I always keep my promises... {Axel}

#⌁ I have to uncover the truth... {Gula}

#⚠︎ I will find a way to rewrite my Fate {Brain}

#☆⭒ A lost little Star {Strelitzia}

#♚ The Darkness has consumed us… {Alt V.} ♥︎

#{Headcanons}

#☁︎ Where there's rain; there's a storm {Rain}

#🌸As Pretty as a Flower but twice as Dangerous {Song}

#✴︎ May the Tears of Heaven hear my call... {Sterling}

#❅ Her Colours are a reflection of who she is {Aurora}

#✵ Hear my prayer O'Morning Star {Ivory}

#♾You'll never hear their name on the wind... {No Name}

#⚡️The Eye of the Storm {Tempest}

#✑ You write down your feelings on paper {Memoire}

#☆⭒ A Light in the Dark... {Roxas/aftrliight}

#👁‍🗨 It's a heavy burden to carry... {Luxu}

#♥︎ He has every right to be mad at me; but i had to do it {Roxas/caelumobscura}

#♥︎ Twilight and Dawn... What an interesting combination {X Roxas}

#☘︎Oh Look- Nope it's just them... {Dani}

#♣︎ There's just something about him that i hate... and i love {X Riku}

#✎ You remember me; the way I remember you {X Roxas}

#☆⭒ He gives me the courage I need; she is always so kind... {X Roxas}

#☆⭒ Let's go to the garden... {Lauriam/lordofoblivion}

#✘ There is always something worth fighting for... {Kohaku}

#♡ No longer just a Copy... {Repliku/Kouki}

#⚙︎Just because I'm not a 'True' Keyblade doesn't mean I can't kill you {Void}

#♥︎ You and I; were intertwined from the start... {X Kairi}

#♡ These will make anyone laugh! {Memes}

#✬ Here to help! {Chirithy}

#🌼You'll never learn from your mistakes if you don't make them {Ayaka/Roxas' mom}

#♔♡ The Mark of a Master~ {P R O M O}

#✿ Thinking of you wherever you are... {Hana/Sora's Mom}

#♤☆ When the Light embraced the Dark... {Mending Hearts V.} ★♠

#✎ He wants to break the mold {Roxas/serendimpetus}

#🗝🖤The Kingdom's Protector and the Original Blade {Chi}

#♔ Mirrored Reflections; Two in the Same {Twin V.} ♡

#★ I'll be there to hide your light when you need it {Dusk}

#♻︎ I'm not even the real thing...And yet in my soul it says otherwise {Soul}

#✩*~ I'll unlock the mysteries of the world {Ephemer}

#♠︎ Made completely out of Darkness {Vanitas}

#✩*~ We'll meet where the darkness meets the light {X Vanitas}

#➳ Skateboard tricks and Sea Salt Icecream... {X Roxas}

#♡ Let's line up the pieces... Together {Main V.} ♔

#❁ He'll always be my little Sprout... {Kasumi/Riku's mother}

#❁ To trust or not to trust is the question... {Xemnas/potestasaeterna}

#♘ He trusts me to look after everyone; but who's going to look after him? {X Master}

#♘ Always one step ahead... or two- or three {Master/masterxmasters}

#☾ The path between Night and Day... {Dawn}

#♡ A Watchful eye... {Dash Commentary}

#☯︎ Total Annihilation {Fuu}

#✎ Don't forget me... {Naminé}

#☄️ I will always rise up from the Ashes {Libra}

#🔥Better watch out because I always bounce back {Ember}

#💥I will burn Eternally {Flame}

#♕ Together we'll protect the world! {Kiki}

#♛ We'll free their hearts and consume the world in darkness... {Heart!Kiki}

#🍨Not just a sweet treat~ {Sweetie}

#♜ I'll protect you from the Shadows {Oblivion}

#♖ Just follow my Light {Oathkeeper}

#♥︎ No matter the Nightmare; I'll be there {X Ventus}

#♠︎ A little noisy... {Skitters/Flood}

#🎐When you feel it in your heart; you know that your home {Mitsuki/Kairi's Grandma}

#❁ He's my stubborn Rock. {Roxas/aftrliight}

#💥She rises with the moon {Luna/verumheart}

#♧ Even in your dreams... {Dream Eater V.} ♥︎

#🍡 Cheeky Cheel {Leche}

#❦ There's more to Light than meets the eye {Young Eraqus}

#❦ And that's checkmate I win; Hold on it's still my turn {X Young Xehanort}

#The Copycat Trio {Repliku; Vanitas and Xion}

#Created with a purpose {Vanitas}

#🐶Watch out for the Mad Dog~ {Mady}

#➸✮ Reliable and Sturdy as the Shield he carries {Aegis/verumrook}

#➸✮ I shouldn't feel this way but I do... And I don't want to stop {X Aegis}

#✘ ...I will protect his light with my life... {Artemis/keyfamilia}

#✘ I don't know what he sees in me... but i'm grateful {X Artemis}

#🗝🖤A shroud of Mystery and Darkness {Master of Masters/eyesofparoxysm}

#🗝🖤The one who compliments me; who truly understands {X Master of Masters}

#✧ He's a good listener and a good friend {Luxu/gravitasfatum}

#✎ What did I do to deserve you...? {Riku/darkheartedprince}

#♔♡ It rests now within us all... {Drabble}

#💚As playful as a breeze; but as strong as a gale wind {Ventus}

#💫Not even the Night Sky could contain her Light... {Astraea}

#🍏A Bad Apple spoils the bunch {Negative Thoughts}

#☀︎ Set me ablaze; start a fire in me {X Terra}

#☀︎ He's my pillar when I'm not strong {Terra/willfulfwayfarer}

#🎐Just like the Stars; He will burn long after... {Yen Sid/omnipotentmxster}

#☀︎ Never expected to fall for a flower {X Marluxia}

#☀︎ Every Flower has it's thorns and he's full of them {Marluxia/lordofoblivion}

#✿ My Little Sparrow {Sora/lightheartedwarrior}

#❁ My Little Sprout {Riku/darkheartedprince}

#🎐If we keep each other in our hearts; we'll always be strong {Young Mitsuki}

#🎐The Stars align when he smiles... {Young Yen Sid/omnipotentmxster}

#⚚ I'm sending a message to you and I hope that it makes it through {Hermod}

#⭑ He could light the sky with his colours {Sora/valorxdrive}

#⭑ He's my knight and I'm his princess {X Sora}

#⭑ We both just wanted a friend... {Blaine/virusplanted}

#⭑ The future may be uncertain; but I'm certain of us {X Blaine}

#🧶Tying the knot {Married V.}

#♔ In another World; another Time or another Place {AU V.} ♡

#⚖︎She moves with the beauty and grace of her namesake {Aqua/theheartstreasure}

#⚖︎I certainly don't know what I did to deserve you; but i'm grateful {X Aqua}

#⌁ The only one I'll always trust {Ava/starshold}

#❀ Careful the Flowers have ears {Foxglove}

#☆⭒ He's my bookworm... {Blaine/virusplanted}

#☆⭒ One day I saw him there and couldn't help but gravitate towards him {X Blaine}

#♔ A World without Magic... {Modern V.} ♡

#🎐An old friend and fellow Master {Eraqus/eraqus-the-defender}

#❦ I wish I was enough to keep you from the Darkness... {Young Xehanort/iuvienis}

#🌕A place where all hearts are one... {Kingdom Hearts}

#🔮The Mistress of Darkness {Maleficent}

#🐚Overcame the Impossible {Maryllis/Kairi's Mother}

#🌊I will do my duty to protect the people {Nalani/Destiny Islands Mayor}

#🥀Poison runs through their veins {Vera}

#✩*~ He's the smartest guy I know {Brain/virusplanted}

#✩*~ We'll always be connected; no matter where we fly too {X Brain}

#🐚His Majesty and My King {Ansem/afoolelopedindarkness}

#🐚Two halves of a whole {X Ansem The Wise}

#✩*~ Flowers can be strong so long as you let them {Lauriam/lordofoblivion}

#🐚My Precious Treasure {Kairi/thalassicradiance}

#🐚Like Mother like daughter {Maryllis and Kairi}

#🎶Listen to my Melody {Maestro}

#Before Summer Vacation is over; we should go to the beach! {Twilight Town Gang}

#♘ More important than he realizes {Kage/thechessboard}

#✩*~ I use to think Dandelions were just weeds; I think they're beautiful {X Lauriam}

#📓Don't always believe what you see... {Lexicon}

#🌹Strong and Elegant {Rose}

#⚠︎ Infuriating and yet... He's Mi Rosa {Lauriam/rxsoideae}

#✧ She's as strong as she is beautiful {Aqua/theheartstreasure}

#✧ She makes me feel like a princess; she gives me hope {X Aqua}

#✎ We will always have each other's backs {Naminé and Aiden}

#☆⭒ Wallflower friends {Luxu and Strelitzia}

#The Darkness gave us purpose... {Dark Repliku; Vanitas & Xionort}

#Let's go to the beach {Axel; Xion & Roxas}

#⚔︎Childhood rivals to lovers {X Hayner}

#⭑★ Fallen Hearts turn to Dark Stars… {Darkling V.} ❤︎♥︎

#⭑ ...Unknowingly My Protector... {Braig/freeshooterxig}

#🍀We're stronger than we look {X Kairi}

#♟He isn't all darkness... {Vanitas/unversedshadow}

#✧ My precious Snowflake Dandelion... {Theo/keytosolidarity}

#✎ She was my light; He was my knight {X Repliku}

#//i really hope i got most if not all of them #//but i feel like i'm still missing some;;#//do not click unless you wanna be scrolling for awhile

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longclawislightbringer · 6 years ago

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Arya Stark and the Green-Eyed Monster Chapter Five: Arya Stark Knows Nothing

Rating: T

Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Elinor Tyrell/Gendry Waters, Arya Stark/Trystane Martell, background Jon Snow/Sansa Stark

Characters: Arya Stark, Gendry Waters, Daenerys Targaryen, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Elinor Tyrell, Hot Pie, Trystane Martell

Summary: Arya ends up sitting next to Gendry at the highly anticipated Hufflepuff v. Ravenclaw match and certain things come to light.

Lol, finally uploading the final chapter here. Really should keep to a better schedule. Anyway, have the original author’s note:

This is it! The final chapter. I'm glad I got it finished before the final episode. Thanks to my wonderful beta reader sansapotter for that.

Thank you so much to every person who has read, left kudos, commented, and bookmarked this story. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Four. Chapter Five.

Also on AO3.

Chapter Five: Arya Stark Knows Nothing

Candles flickered, casting dark shadows over the crowded patrons of the Three Broomsticks. Smoke hung thick in the air. Trystane stopped at the end of the bar to order them a couple of butterbeers. He nervously signaled to the bartender as Arya tapped her foot against the floor. The bartender placed two tankards of butterbeer, each overflowing with golden foam, on the bar. Trystane tossed down a few coins before taking the mugs. Weaving through the tables of students drinking their own butterbeer, he lead her to a small table in the back corner. Arya flopped into her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well?” she said. “This better be good.”

“Right,” Trystane stammered, passing her a tankard. “I should start by saying that I do think you’re cool and that I did want this date to go well.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” She took a big gulp of her butterbeer. The butterscotch bubbles bounced around her mouth before careening down her throat. “Why did you ignore me for half of the date and then tell me that I looked like 'a girl for once,'?”

Trystane gulped. “Okay, that does sound quite bad thinking about it now . . . I don’t know why I said that; you look pretty all the time. Can I make a confession?”

Arya raised a brow and gestured for him to continue.

“I wanted this date to work because I’m trying to get over Myrcella.”

Arya nearly choked on her butterbeer, the golden liquid dribbling out of her mouth. “I’m sorry, what?" She mopped the spilled butterbeer off the table. “Myrcella is your best friend, even I know that.”

Trystane glanced around the pub before lowering his voice. “I’ve been in love with her for years, but she’s too caught up in her crush on your older brother—" Arya spat out her butterbeer again, ”—To ever think of me as a possible romantic partner. I guess I thought I could get over my unrequited crush by trying to find someone else. I do admire you; you’re probably the coolest girl in the whole school.” Trystane hung his head. “I’m just too in love with Myrcella for this to have ever worked.” Arya stared at Trystane, the words to respond dying on the tip of her tongue. He fiddled with a napkin while he waited for Arya’s reply.

"I understand perfectly," Arya responded after she finished processing his confession. The part about Robb was particularly hard to wrap her head around. “I also have a confession to make. I said yes to this date because I’m trying to get over someone too.”

Trystane jerked up. “Gendry?”

“How did you know?” Arya gasped, flushing a deep crimson.

“Please; the whole school has shipped you two together since he stood up for you down by the lake in our first year. You know, I wouldn’t have asked you out if he was still single.”

“The whole school knows?” Arya panicked, the pitch of her voice rising with each word. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Had Gendry known this whole time?

“Relax,” Trystane assured her. “I don’t think he’s caught on yet.”

Arya breathed a sigh of relief. She gulped down the rest of her butterbeer.

“Where does that leave us?” she asked.

“I don’t think a relationship would work out.”

“Seconded. But I do think you’re cool. Friends?” Arya stuck out her hand.

Trystane grinned and took her hand. “Friends.”

***

A week later, Arya glared at her ever-problematic Arithmancy homework. The equations seemed to swim together in impossible combinations, the numbers and letters blurring. She pounded her head against the desk. If only Elinor were here. The great clock chimed three times, piercing the silence of the library and startling her from her reverie. Arya bolted upright, one of her papers sticking to her face.

"Shoot!" she yelled, jumping from her chair as she shoved her papers haphazardly into her knapsack. Trystane, across the table, looked up from his History of Magic paper. "I'm late; Jon would kill me if I missed his last game."

Trystane nodded, cleaning off his quill. “I guess I should get going too. See you Tuesday, then?"

"Yep," Arya smiled. "Bye!" She darted out the library doors in a flurry, her furious footsteps pounding on the pavement floor as she dashed through the corridors. Outside, she sprinted down the hill, skidding to a stop at the spectator entrance. She paused for a moment, leaning against the door to catch her breath before she entered the stadium. Students milled about in the hallway, waiting for a chance to enter. Arya pumped her fist in victory; she made it just in time after all. She tapped her foot against the ground, waiting for the line to move. At last, she entered the stadium.

Perusing the stands for her sister, Arya wove through the large crowd assembled for the highly-anticipated Hufflepuff v. Ravenclaw match. She spotted Sansa in her usual seat, though she had swapped out her red and gold Gryffindor scarf for one of Jon’s. Arya waved to her as she climbed the steps to the top of the stands.

“Hey,” Arya greeted her sister when she reached Sansa’s mostly empty row. Sansa took removed her handmade sign with Jon’s name in perfect glittery letters from the seat so Arya could sit.

“I brought snacks.” Arya held out an assortment of sweets.

"Excellent," Sansa replied, taking a proffered chocolate frog.

Arya plopped onto the wooden bench beside her sister. “Are you nervous?”

“Nope,” Sansa answered, popping the frog into her mouth before it could escape. “Jon’s the best chaser at this school, and he’s been preparing for this match for weeks.” The pitch crackled to life as both teams entered the field. “Look! There he is,” Sansa sighed, her cheeks flushed.

Arya gagged.

"You know, sometimes, I wish you guys weren't so insufferable together, but then I remember how you were when you were both still pining, and this is infinitely better."

“Haha, very funny.”

Margaery's voice rang out through the stadium. "Welcome to today's match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw." Arya cheered, clapping her hands. Margaery began to announce the player's names, but the noise of the crowd faded when she noticed Gendry climbing the stairs two at a time in a beeline for their row.

“What is he doing here?” Arya hissed, her heart pounding as he stepped closer. She curled in on herself, attempting to hide behind her much taller sister.

“I invited him to sit with us,” Sansa responded. “I thought you would want to sit with your best friend.”

Arya cursed under her breath. She still hadn't figured out what to do about her Gendry problem, which was precisely why she been avoiding him for the last week aside from Quidditch practice.

“Hello, Gendry.” Sansa smiled.

“Hey there,” Gendry grinned as he turned onto their row.

“Hi,” Arya squeaked, her voice suddenly an octave higher. Gendry plopped onto the seat beside her. Arya tensed, holding herself very still to avoid looking into his ocean blue eyes. She tried to concentrate on the game, but every now and then Gendry’s leg brushed against her, sending jolts of electricity through her body.

The whistle blew, and the players took off. Jon got the first possession of the quaffle. Leaning forward in her seat, Arya followed him down the field toward the Ravenclaw goalposts. He had nodded to his two other chasers, Gilly and Shireen, and they flew in formation to protect him from flying bludgers. Jon may have been the kindest and most loyal Hufflepuff in her acquaintance, but he was ruthless on the Quidditch pitch. He lobbed the quaffle straight down the center goal post. Arya, Sansa, and Gendry cheered; Sansa waved her sign like a maniac.

“That’s ten points for Hufflepuff!” Margaery’s disembodied voice rang out.

“He’s good,” Gendry remarked. “Wonder if he’ll share his strategies with us now that he’s graduating.”

“Yeah,” Arya replied, trying to keep her voice steady and not so high-pitched. “Then maybe we wouldn’t keep getting absolutely destroyed like the last time we played Hufflepuff. They don’t call him the Lord Commander for nothing.”

Gendry laughed.

One of the Hufflepuff beaters knocked a bludger into the Ravenclaw chaser, sending the quaffle spiraling into the air. Gilly soared in to catch it just before it hit the ground.

“Quiet, you two,” Sansa shushed them, leaning forward in her seat. “I’m trying to watch the game.”

“I didn’t even think you liked Quidditch that much.”

"I don't," Sansa answered. "But you, Robb and Jon like it, so I'm supporting you all. I even helped Jon come up with some new strategies for this game." She game Arya a smug smile.

Arya rolled her eyes but kept her commentary related to the game at hand.

Sometime after the snitch entered the pitch, Arya spotted Robb and Dany sitting together several rows down. Dany stuffed a handful of popcorn in her mouth. When they noticed that they had been discovered, they whipped back towards the game, whispering conspiratorially in each other's ears. What weirdos. Arya shook her head and thought nothing of it for the rest of the game.

The game passed in a couple of hours, much faster than Gryffindor's game against Slytherin last fall. Jon and the rest of the Hufflepuff crushed the Ravenclaw keeper in points so in the end the Ravenclaw seeker dove for the snitch to end their humiliation.

"Hufflepuff wins!" Margaery announced through the speaker.

Arya, Gendry, and Sansa leaped to their feet, yelling and clapping. Sansa pulled her sister into a crushing hug. Arya hugged her back before releasing her. The Hufflepuff team dove to the ground, tumbling off their brooms to dogpile on Jon in the center of the pitch. When they pulled back, dinkon Tarly and Dolorous Edd pulled Jon onto their shoulders. As his teammates carried him off the field, he searched the crowd. When he located Sansa and Arya, he waved. Sansa blew him a kiss.

“I’ll see you guys later.” Sansa scooted past them, bounding down the stairs through the crowd of students exiting the stadium to meet Jon outside the player’s tents. She only paused to give Robb a high-five.

The euphoria of the Hufflepuff victory faded, leaving only awkwardness behind. Gendry was looking at her again, the way he had while they were under the mistletoe at the Yule Ball.

“Guess we should head back in,” Arya broke the silence before she got lost in his blue eyes.

"Yeah," Gendry agreed. They joined the line that funneled out the door, walking together in uncomfortable silence until they made it back into the castle. Arya stopped in an empty corridor.

“I should go,” Arya said. “See you around.”

“When?” Gendry asked.

“I don’t know,” Arya answered, turning to leave. “Sometime.”

“Nope,” Gendry shook his head. “That’s not good enough.” He grasped her wrist, dragging her into a nearby closet. The door shut with a bang behind them, cloaking them in darkness.

“Lumos,” Gendry said, lighting the lantern hanging from the ceiling. Arya’s breath came fast and shallow as she noticed how close they were.

“You’ve been avoiding me again.” Gendry crossed his arms, stretching the muscles underneath his shirt.

Arya flushed.

“No, I haven’t,” She stammered, turning to leave the closet. Gendry put an arm up to stop her. Arya huffed, avoiding his searching gaze.

"Don't lie to me," Gendry implored. “Does it have something to do with Elinor? Because Elinor and I—”

"Elinor's fine." Arya snapped, crossing her arms.

"What is it, then?" He dropped his arm. ”Arya, please. I can’t lose you. You’re my best friend.” His voice broke on the last sentence.

“You want to know what’s wrong?” She whirled to face him, full of fury as her heart sped up like it was on fire. “What’s bothering me is that I’m so jealous that I can’t think straight.”

“What? I don’t understand—”

“Gendry, you dolt. I don’t want you to kiss her stupid face, I want you to kiss me!” Arya gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. Her pulse quickened; had she just said that out loud?

Gendry stood dumbstruck.

“I’m so sorry,” Arya apologized, paling. “Forget that ever happened.”

The gears turned in Gendry’s head.

“Do you like me?” He asked after a moment’s contemplation.

“I thought that was kind of obvious from my desire to make out with you.”

A wide smile spread over Gendry’s face. “Elinor and I—”

“I don’t want to hear about how happy you are with your girlfriend.” Tears welled in Arya’s eyes as she turned away.

“You don’t understand.” Gendry grabbed her shoulders. “Elinor and I were never actually together—she was using me to make her ex-boyfriend jealous. And we' fake broke-up' a week ago."

“What?” It was Arya’s turn to be dumbfounded.

Gendry pulled her close, cupping her cheek with one hand. “Arya, I’ve been in love with you for years.”

"Really?" Arya murmured as he closed his eyes and leaned down.

“Since the moment I met you,” he breathed.

She punched him in the arm.

“That’s for lying to me,” she said.

“Arya, I . . .”

Arya surged forward, devouring him in a bruising kiss. She molded herself against him, reaching her arms around his neck to pull him closer. His hand gripped her hip, setting her aflame.

They separated when the need for air became too high.

“Wow,” Gendry panted.

"You can say that again," Arya smirked, shoving him against the wall of the broom closet to dive back in.

A broom clattered to the floor.

Arya winced.

“Do you want to go somewhere without brooms?” Gendry asked.

“Yes.” Arya laced her fingers through Gendry’s and pushed the door open. After checking that the coast was clear, she pulled him out into the corridor. They walked hand in hand through the hallway. “I’m curious; how did Elinor rope you into her being her fake boyfriend in the first place?”

Gendry rubbed the back of his neck as he walked. “Robb and Dany apparently suggested me to her as a viable candidate when she was looking for a date to the Yule Ball.”

Arya halted. “Robb and Dany?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why, though.”

“I do,” Arya groaned gritted her teeth as she thought on every interaction she’d had with those two meddlers. The strange comments at the victory party; the yellow dress that Dany picked out and the mysterious mistletoe at the Yule Ball; Dany's surefire plan for getting over Gendry; she even thought she recognized them sitting at a table in the back corner while she was on her date with Trystane. She smacked her forehead. “We’re so oblivious. They've been trying to set us up for months." She stormed down the hallway, their earlier plans wholly forgotten.

“Where are you going?” Gendry struggled to keep up with her fast pace.

“Come on; we’ve got to concoct a revenge plot.”

“Revenge? What for?”

“I’m tired of their meddling.” She paused just before they entered the main hallway, her fists clenched.

"How are we going to do it?" Gendry asked.

A sly grin spread across Arya’s face.

“Gendry, I know what we’re going to do today.”

#gendrya #arya stark #gendry waters #my fic #hogwarts au #jonsa #BUT IT'S IN THE BACKGROUND #daenerys the matchmaker #robb the matchmaker #asatgem #arya stark and the green-eyed monster #quidditch #love confessions #broom closets

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rosesnvines · 8 years ago

Text

They Will Not Reject Him

Since Keith insists . . . here, a group of people who will never reject you, having been rejected themselves (sorta).

Keith wandered the halls of the great building, the chatter of the ongoing event echoing over the P.A. system. The soccer game was still going on, as evident by the commentary of the two radio DJ’s. Well, so they were called by the rest of the island. It was primarily Ishida Yamato and Yagami Taichi, but since Taichi was the soccer captain, the commentators were Kazama Hiroto and Hiwatari Seiji. Hiroto was obviously having a bunch of fun commenting, Seiji was primarily laughing. He was laughing at that moment while Hiroto was exclaiming about a move someone made on the field. Keith didn’t know everybody yet, nor did he want to. He was still afraid of being rejected. Though, he did have to admit, not a single person he had met thus far seemed that concerned that he was part Galra or anything. But, then again, they hadn’t had to deal with Galra oppression, so it wouldn’t register in their minds that he shouldn’t be trusted. Once the others started talking about the Galra Empire, they would, they really would reject him. He paused when he turned the corner, there was a group of boys standing in the middle of the hall, one of whom was Yamato. The others were Jack Frost, Kinimoto Syaoran, Nico di Angelo, Hyuuga Natsume, Adrien Agreste, and Kujou Kazune.

Keith let out a sigh. “What do you want?” He glared at Nico, who merely glared back. He knew the demigod had shadow-traveled the group to that point and had been waiting for him. Maybe they didn’t think they needed to fear Keith because of Nico? Ridiculous, he could take him out, son of Hades or not.

“Listen, we want to help you,” began Syaoran.

“So spill it, though Nico’s probably said the same things already,” quipped Jack.

Nico growled. “Shut up.”

“I think we all have said one thing or another that’s similar,” stated Yamato. “Point is, we know you’re hurting, we’ve been hurt too. Let us help you get through the pain.”

“Why would you do that?”

“It’s what friends do,” replied Yamato. Keith glanced down, did he dare hope?

“Why don’t we start off with, when’s your birthday?”

Keith glanced at Jack in surprise. “Why do you need to know that? I thought the island got all that information when I entered.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like it just hands out that information, either,” quipped Kazune as he crossed his arms.

“Wait, it, it didn’t tell you?” asked Keith incredulously.

Syaoran shook his head. “No, I’ve told it not to tell me anything about anybody, I want you to trust me enough to tell me yourself.”

“Oh, so, it didn’t tell you that I was Chat Noir?” asked Adrien.

Kazune scoffed. “It didn’t need to, you made it way too easy to figure out.” Adrien grinned and chuckled nervously as he scratched the back of his head. Natsume and Kazune both rolled their eyes and groaned. Keith turned to leave when Nico spoke up, making him pause.

“So, you don’t trust us, do you?” Keith paused and glanced over his shoulder at them. He thought for a second, should he tell them his fears? “No, you just don’t trust us to want to be your friends. You’re scared that we would not like you after we got to know you.” Keith glanced at him, almost startled. How?

“Or you’re afraid that no one will ever care for you as you truly are,” piped up Adrien.

“Or they’re afraid of your power,” mentioned Natsume as a small flame ignited in his hand before glancing between Adrien and Nico.

“I guess I am the only one with the fear of not being believed in, which means no one can see me.” Jack paused for second before taking a breath. “But I guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore, Peter will always be able to see me.” Keith knew that, of the three Peters he knew of on Antillia, Jack was talking about Peter Pan. “And Nico has no choice,” he continued with a grin.

“Oooh, yay, lucky me,” Nico quipped sarcastically. The others laughed.

“Hey, don’t worry Jack, I’ll always believe in you. I want to, I wouldn’t have as much fun otherwise,” stated Adrien and he walked towards Jack.

“Awesome, thanks man!” said Jack as they gave each other a high-five.

Syaoran turned back to Keith. “Point is, we’ve all had our share of trouble and sorrow. We might not completely understand what you’re going through, but we understand pain, and we can help you get through it.” Keith glanced down, should he? Should he take that risk? Make that leap of faith and hope he finds solid ground?

“I know it’s hard to trust people when you’ve been hurt so deep that you don’t know if you could ever heal from it.” Keith glanced up at Yamato. “But not everybody is like that. Not everybody is going to hurt you. Yes, you’re going to come across quite a few people who will hurt you, but there are many more who, if you give them a chance, they will care for you until the end of time. Get a new family to replace the broken one you came from.” Natsume nodded at the last sentence, followed not too long by a nod from Nico.

Keith let out a sigh. “Listen, I just don’t belong . . .”

“Nico said that too, and that he was going to leave. Now look at him, as snug as a bug in a rug,” quipped Jack.

“Don’t you mean like a puzzle piece?” asked Keith with a grumble.

“Is that what’s concerning you, Matthew’s analogy that Antillia is one big puzzle and we’re all its pieces?” asked Syaoran incredulously.

“It’s better than being compared to a chess set,” quipped Nico.

“Yeah, at least in a puzzle, we’re equally important to completing the big picture,” pointed out Adrien.

“And in a puzzle, it means that we each fit together just perfectly,” continued Yamato. “Wouldn’t you like that, knowing that you fit?” Keith glanced at each of them in turn before turning around. They wouldn’t understand, not one bit. He heard a groan from Nico before he saw him stepping out of the shadows in front of him. Keith clenched his teeth, if he did anything.

“Jack, use your powers.”

“Oh man, if Nico di Angelo is telling me to use my powers, it’s bad,” quipped Jack. Keith could feel the air behind him getting colder. He took a step forward, but Nico stopped him by grabbing him by the arms and spinning him around. Just in time for Keith to get a snowball square in his face. Keith didn’t know how, but he could just feel the joy bubbling up from the depths of his heart, and burst out laughing. “Snowball fight!” exclaimed Jack as he threw a snowball at Nico and then Adrien. Adrien ducked, and it hit Kazune.

“Jack! OK, that does it!” Kazune rolled up his sleeves, bent down, grabbed some snow, quickly shaped it into a ball, and threw it. Jack quickly moved to the side, and the snowball hit the back of Natsume’s head. Natsume glanced at Syaoran.

Syaoran chuckled. “Alright, yes, snowball fight!” At that, everyone dove into the snow to make balls, and in the next instant, snowballs were flying. Some hit their target, others missed by a long shot.

“Adrien, stop moving around!”

“I can’t help it if my cat-like skills keep me from getting wet. Oof!” Adrien got hit with a snowball that made him fall backwards.

“Nice shot, Yamato!”

“Thank you. Hey! No fair, Nico!” Nico laughed before dashing off, getting chased by Yamato.

“Natsume, I said snowball fight, not fireball fight!”

“Yeah, you need to . . . chill!”

“Jack!”

“Hey! Oh, you were trying to be sneaky, eh, Keith?”

“Maybe.”

“And, here’s one from me.”

“Nice shot, Kazune!”

“Why thank you.”

“Hey! Adrien!”

“Catch me if you can, Syaoran!”

“Oh, you’re on!” The snowball fight lasted for a few more minutes amid shouts and laughter, before everyone paused as a howl reached their ears.

Keith glanced around. “What the? Yamato!” Yamato turned, just in time to have a wolf pin him to the ground, and start licking his face.

“Toboe! OK, OK, knock it off!! Came to join the fun?” Yamato asked as he petted the wolf.

“I wish, but, Makoto-kun sent me to tell you that he made a new dessert he wants you to try.”

“Ooh! Dessert!” exclaimed Jack and Adrien.

“Don’t you care about your teeth?” asked Nico.

“I always brush mine, it’s the model in me,” quipped Adrien with a smirk.

“And mine always sparkles like freshly fallen snow, and since I’m technically already dead, I can’t rot anymore,” quipped Jack with a grin before the two disappeared around the corner.

“Coming!” Toboe let out a bark and led the way back to the kitchen.

Keith walked over to Syaoran as the others followed, leaving the two alone in the hall. “So. he’s another piece of the puzzle?”

Syaoran laughed. “Everyone here is, even you. If you want it, that is. We’re not going to force you to stay, but we will try to make it as hard as possible for you to leave. It’s great here.”

Keith glanced at him curiously as he followed Syaoran to the kitchen. “So, all of you have been hurt?”

Syaoran’s mouth twitched, but a soft smile stayed on his face as the sorrow seemed to grow in his eyes. “Yes, in different ways.” He paused and let out a sad sigh before walking again, more slowly this time. He seemed to bend over a bit, like the knowledge of so much sorrow weighed on him. “You have no idea the extent of some of that pain. Nico? He’s been through a lot, especially for a kid his age. Frodo? Not much different, even though he does wish he could give Nico the childhood he had, at least. Kira? War really took its toll on him, he has such a kind heart. Jack? Well, after three hundred years of loneliness, I’m not surprised he can keep a smile on his face, he’s so overjoyed at how many people can see him now. Some have lost family, parents, a sibling, some have been unable to make many friends, yet others are feared because of what they can do. Some were even exploited because of their powers. Everyone has a sob story. And, I’m not saying that because of all of these sob stories that they make yours any less tragic. I’m just trying to say that, you’re not alone. Somebody, somewhere, even if it’s not on Antillia, has experienced what you’ve experienced and has felt the same pain. How they react to it will be different than your reaction because they are not you. So, some will hide their pain with a smile, or have it out there with scowl.” He paused again, they were now outside the kitchen doors. He turned and placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Listen, I understand that you’re set on your decision, but I beg you, please give us a chance. Get to know some of the people here. These things take time. Give me a time-frame and if you’re not satisfied with the results at the end, then you are most certainly free to go. But, I’m willing to bet that, if you open up to some of the people here, you’ll find that you are home. And I can direct you to a few people who thought the same as you, and ended up staying.”

“Like Nico?”

Syaoran smiled and nodded. “Yes, like Nico. And I’m glad he’s here. I know Kazune especially is glad he’s here. You have no idea how many times I’ve had to break up a game of Mythomagic to get their attention for something.”

“Right. So, what’s your story?”

Syaoran’s eyes widened before a sad smile appeared. “I, I don’t know if I should tell you that yet. You might, you might wonder how a monster like myself became the king of Antillia.”

Keith’s eyes widened. “But, but you can’t be a monster! You’re such a better leader than I ever could!”

Syaoran laughed, the sorrow melting away. “Oh yes, I thought that I wasn’t capable of leading these fine people, but, Matthew just likes to keep proving himself right. And, out of everyone, I think . . . I think he’s not ready to tell his story.”

“Nope, just waiting for everyone to get here so I can just tell it all at once.” The two jumped as a red-haired teen joined them. “Do you have any idea how annoying it is to have to repeat yourself over and over again?”

“Which is funny because you like to repeat yourself, over and over again,” quipped the older, brunette as he too joined them.

“That all depends on what I’m talking about, Steven. My story? Boring!”

“What? Your story’s boring? But you’ve been all over the place!” exclaimed Syaoran.

Matthew grinned. “That I have. But, trying to blend into the local life isn’t as easy as it looks, trust me. So, are you two going to get in there and taste Makoto’s new dessert, or are you going to let Jack and Adrien eat all of it?”

Syaoran chuckled. “Oh, alright. Let’s go. Their desserts can get surprising, but it’s always good.”

Keith grinned. “Oh, I don’t know, Hunk’s kinda spoiled us.”

“Guess we’ll just have to do a cooking contest, huh?” asked Syaoran with a wink as he opened the doors. Keith, Matthew, and Steven followed him in, and paused.

“Um, where is everybody?” asked Keith as Matthew and Steven joined Syaoran. The three turned around and all shot him mischievous grins.

“Uh, guys?” shouted Matthew. That’s when everyone jumped out from behind doors and under tables, shouting, “Surprise! Happy birthday, Keith!” Makoto and Hunk came out with a big birthday cake, decorated with red and purple lions and sprinkles on white icing.

Keith glanced at Syaoran. “But, but you said . . .”

“The island didn’t tell me.”

“No, that was me,” stated Shiro as he approached Keith. “Happy birthday, little brother,” he said with a smile. The two hugged.

“Th-thanks, Shiro. Did, did you plan all of this?”

“Actually, you can thank our head resident genie for that. Matthew thought that, since you were feeling so down in the dumps, throwing a birthday party to show how much we all appreciate you was a good idea to bring up your spirits,” said Nico.

“Hey, it worked for you, figured it would work for him too,” stated Matthew.

“And Jack was his second-in-command,” quipped Kazune as he pointed at the grinning sprite.

“We had some help from Coran, too,” stated Jack.

“Thank you, everybody, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

Syaoran chuckled. “Told you we’d make it hard for you to want to leave.” Keith smiled at him before everyone else came forward to wish him happy birthday. The party became a smashing hit, everyone had a blast. And as Keith slowly drifted off to sleep later that night, he had to admit, they were doing a good job at making him feel at home. Maybe he would take Syaoran up on his challenge, but he figured they had won already. He wanted to stay.

#keith #voltron #keith's birthday #antillia #crossover #big time crossover #digimon adventure #heroes of olympus #Rise of the Guardians #tsubasa chronicles #miraculous ladybug #gakuen alice #kirarin revolution #kamichama karin #wolf's rain #happy birthday keith

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hellishlyclean · 1 month ago

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"Fixing? You mean like a dog?"

"I can do that for you, no problem~"

#hotel's housekeeper...[niffty]#the shadows have ears...[dash commentary]#the-delightful-temptation

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how2to18 · 7 years ago

Link

COLOR OF REALITY, the six-minute short film written, directed, and co-choreographed by Jon Boogz and fellow movement artist Charles “Lil Buck” Riley, in collaboration with painter and installation artist Alexa Meade, was released on September 6, 2016, three years after the naissance of Black Lives Matter, an anti-racist movement created by radical black organizers Alicia Garza, Patrisse Cullors, and Opal Tometi, initially in response to the shooting death of 17-year-old Trayvon Martin on February 26, 2012, in Sanford, Florida, by self-proclaimed vigilante George Zimmerman, who was later acquitted.

Sean Bell, Sandra Bland, Rekia Boyd, Michael Brown, Ricky Boyd, Kenneth Chamberlain, Stephon Clark, John Crawford III, Patrick Dorismond, Shereese Francis, Eric Garner, Ramarley Graham, Freddie Gray, LaTanya Haggerty, Jason Harrison, Kendra James, Ronald Madison, Manuel Loggins Jr., Margaret LaVerne Mitchell, Jerame Reid, Tamir Rice, Aiyana Stanley-Jones, and Saheed Vassell: each a black man or woman who died at the hands of police, each representing hundreds of such cases since 1999, when 22-year-old Amadou Diallo, an unarmed man standing in a New York City doorway, was gunned down by four plain-clothed officers who fired 41 bullets, thinking he had a gun; the officers were charged with second-degree murder and later acquitted.

The year 2016 alone saw 37-year-old Alton Sterling, a father of five, die after being shot in the chest and back outside a Baton Rouge, Louisiana, convenience store, where he was selling compact discs, by officers investigating reports of a man with a gun; 33-year-old Philando Castile was shot in the car in front of his girlfriend and her four-year-old daughter in Falcon Heights, Minnesota, by a cop who pulled him over because his “wide-set nose” fit the description of a robbery suspect; 23-year-old Korryn Gaines, a mother of two, was killed in her home, and her five-year-old son wounded, during a standoff with Baltimore County police attempting to serve her a warrant for failing to appear in court; 43-year-old and mentally impaired Keith Lamont Scott was shot in his SUV while waiting for his son in Charlotte, North Carolina, by a police officer in pursuit of another man; 40-year-old Terence Crutcher, unarmed, was shot by a police officer in Tulsa, Oklahoma, while standing near his vehicle in the middle of a street after his vehicle stalled on the side of the road; and 13-year-old Tyre King was shot multiple times in an alley in Columbus, Ohio, gunned down by police who, responding to reports of an armed robbery, claimed that King appeared to pull a handgun from his waistband when, in fact, he had a BB gun.

Black Lives Matter broadened the conversation around state violence, going beyond extrajudicial killings of black people by police and vigilantes to include other ways virulent anti-black racism has for centuries permeated American society, and became an explosive artistic call-to-arms. There have been myriad gut-wrenching responses, from anger and despair to fear and trepidation, by artists — Carlos Raul Dufflar’s poem “Amadou Diallo From Guinea to the Bronx Dead on Arrival”; Ellisha and Steven Flagg’s “I Can’t Breathe,” the protest anthem dedicated to their brother Eric Garner, who died on July 17, 2014, after being head-locked and choke-held, moaning, “I can’t breathe,” 11 times while lying face down on the sidewalk; the song “How Many” by Miguel, written in reaction to the police shootings of Sterling and Castile, channeling Marvin Gaye’s 1971 protest song “What’s Going On”; Jay-Z’s song titled “spiritual,” reflecting the rapper’s disillusionment with police brutality in modern times; the rapper Kendrick Lamar’s songs “Alright” and “The Blacker the Berry,” anthems in the wake of high-profile police shootings of minorities; and most recently, the rapper Childish Gambino’s music video “This Is America,” an explosive commentary on gun violence.

In performance, Between the World and Me, a stage adaptation of Ta-Nehisi Coates’s prize-winning 2015 book, premiered at New York’s Apollo Theater in 2018, conjuring the visceral anger and grief of the September 1, 2000, shooting of 25-year-old Prince Carmen Jones Jr. who, unarmed, was shot 16 times — of the six bullets in his body, five entered from his back — by a Prince George’s County, Maryland, police officer on suspicion of driving a stolen vehicle. In dance performance, Freedom, a 54-second black-and-white video choreographed by Sean Aaron Carmon for fellow members of the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater to the music of Beyoncé’s “Freedom,” featuring Kendrick Lamar, was created three days after the July 5, 2016, shooting of Alton Sterling in Baton Rouge, two days after the Philando Castile shooting in Falcon Heights, and one day after the attack on police in Dallas, Texas. Bemoaning those same July 2016 tragedies, the jazz tap dancer Dormeshia Sumbry-Edwards, 20 minutes into the performance of And Still You Must Swing, a collaboration with her fellow tap stars Derick K. Grant and Jason Samuels Smith and guest artist Camille A. Brown, at the Jacob’s Pillow Dance Festival, stopped abruptly to address the audience. “It’s not easy when your people are getting killed in the street,” she muttered, holding back tears. “I can’t apologize because it’s real, y’all,” launching into a solo that was passionate and fierce.

Just six minutes long, and reportedly inspired by forlorn dismay of the police shootings of young black men, Color of Reality will be counted as one of the seminal anthems of the Black Lives Matter movement. Offering an articulate, empathetic, and encapsulating response to police brutality, the film has attracted (at last count) some 335,000 views on YouTube, and is mesmerizing, in large part, for the striking visual scenography of the painter Alexa Meade. In the opening scene, we could be looking at a colorful still life, a domestic scene — the interior of a living room painted, in the broad strokes of a Vincent Van Gogh painting, in calming shades of blue, cream, and purple, conjuring the image of a bright blue sky. In it, two men, sitting on a couch, watch a news broadcast from a television set, listening to a news anchor report on the murders of unarmed black men at the hands of police. A broadcaster describes the “graphic body cam and dash cam video of an officer-involved shooting, where an unarmed black teenager was killed by police.” It is not until the camera zooms in on this still life and into a close-up of the men — their brown skin and glazed eyes peering through the thick strokes of paint — that we discern how Meade is challenging our visual senses. Are we looking at a two-dimensional painting or a three-dimensional performance work?

Meade’s color-soaked body-painting, a technique she calls “Reverse Trompe L’Oeil” — trompe l’oeil being a visual illusion that tricks the eye into perceiving a painted detail as a three-dimensional object — recalls the work of Carolee Schneemann, the visual artist/collagist who used her body to examine the role of female sensuality in connection to the possibilities of political and personal liberation from predominantly oppressive social and aesthetic conventions. As a painter, Schneemann extended the visual principles of the canvas in her inquiries about sexuality, simultaneously investigating taboo realms of corporeality and the liberating possibilities of the female body by using her body as the primary medium to exercise women’s agency. Schneemann’s 1963 Eye Body, for instance, was a series of 36 photographs of the artist in an environment she created with various objects — broken mirrors, dress mannequins, plastic tarps. To become a piece of the art herself, Schneemann covered her nude self in various materials, including grease, chalk, and plastic, creating 36 “transformative actions” in a setting in which she was photographed, with one action for each frame of film. She described the series as integrating the artist’s self as image and image-maker, melding the two through an improvisational collage in space and time.

Like Schneemann, Meade began her career as a painter and then turned to finding more unconventional painting surfaces — bodies and inanimate objects — and using them in a way that collapsed depth, making her models appear two-dimensional when photographed. “Your body is my canvas,” Meade explained in a Ted Talk about her work, Your Body Is My Canvas. “There is more to this painting than meets the eye,” she explained. “It is an acrylic painting, but I didn’t paint it on canvas, I painted it on top of the man. […] I skip the canvas altogether, and if I want to paint your portrait, I’m painting it on you — physically on you. That also means you are probably going to end up with an earful of paint,” since she is painting an ear on the ear. Everything “gets covered in a mask of paint that mimics what’s directly below it, and in this way, I’m able to take a three-dimensional scene and make it look like a two-dimensional painting.” Turning people into paintings, the “mask” of paint on body and objects reverts the portrait into a two-dimensional experience, flattening bodies into walls. “It was about shadows. I was fascinated with the absence of light and I wanted to find a way that I could give it materiality and pin it down before it changed.”

After experimenting with painting, or masking, corporeal subjects, Meade ventured further with the idea of creating “paintings” on more unusual surfaces. In The Milk Project, collaborating with the actress and performance artist Sheila Vand, Meade immersed Vand, whom she had body-painted, into a pool of milk. The erasure of the paint, due to the washing of the milk, ended up creating images that were, as Meade described, “far more elegant,” a lesson in what lay beneath the surface. “What will you make of me?” Vand asked, in the text of the installation work that premiered at Galerie Ivo Kamm in Zurich, Switzerland, in 2012. The symbolic metaphor of immersing a female body into the nourishing mammalian substance of milk is obvious — it is an erasure of the female into the primal substance of female nourishment, therefore yoking form and substance. “I am disappearing into that space between us, but the first step of transformation is to erase oneself. Identity is a disease, and today, I prefer to blend in with my canvas,” Meade wrote at the premiere of Milk. Unlike the erasure of identity that Vand succumbs to in the Milk series, Meade’s body-painting of Boogz and Lil Buck in Color of Reality is so materially oppressive as to challenge its living-and-breathing subjects to reclaim their corporeality. The power of the body, the black body, prevails over the suppressive acrylics that attempt to smother it.

The danced solos of Jon Boogz and Lil Buck add profound tragic depth: soliloquies on the pain of prejudice, injustice, and mass incarceration that are articulated through styles of street dancing derived from hip-hop culture. Still, Meade’s visuals, in coordination with the movement art, produce the initial arresting moments in Color of Reality that propel the film to its final tragic moment, compelling the viewer to yearn for the end of predatory policing. In the opening scene, under the yellow-painted title, Color of Reality, the camera frames a brightly painted interior of a living room and the figures of two men, seated on a couch, watching television. Above the escalating elegiac chords of an electronic score by DBR and WondaGurl, we hear sound bites — “Yes, it’s a graphic video … everything from shots to blood … an unarmed black teenager was killed by police … These people were involved in his murder.”

The camera zooms in on the men, panning the painted, blue-streaked wall, side table, lamp, stack of books, plastic snack wrappers, and a can of soda, settling on a paint — streaked brown-skinned hand, placed on the armrest of the coach; and cuts to the television screen where a black anchorman (CBS news correspondent Vladimir Duthiers) describes “a video showing the deadly officer involved in a shooting in Louisiana.” A reaction shot closes in on the attentive faces of the men, their slow and steady breathing barely perceptible, with a cut back to the television where a female anchorwoman reports “a graphic body cam and dash cam video of an officer-involved shooting where an unarmed black teenager was killed by police.” In a startling reaction shot, Boogz’s arm involuntarily shoots up from the armrest and, with remote in hand, flips off the set. The camera cuts to an extreme close-up of Lil Buck, breathing heavily. Behind the painted mask we see his glazed, large brown eyes peering through the thick yellow and green strokes of paint. In an infinitely small movement, he downcasts his eyes, signaling despondence, and sighs deeply, his head rotating from side to side. It is a riveting, heartbreaking moment that encapsulates a sobering state of being alive, thus breaking the two-dimensionality of the narrative. The camera cuts to a long shot of the men, seated side-by-side on the couch, estranged and isolated in thought. The score begins to pulsate as each man rises in turn from the couch to soliloquize upon their state of mind through their personal movement language.

Popping, a late-1960s style of street dance originally from Fresno, California, is the movement style that Miami-born Jon Boogz honed as a performer on the streets of Venice Beach. The dance, based on the technique of suddenly contracting and relaxing muscles, produces a jerk in the dancer’s body, often called a pop or hit, and is done continuously to the rhythm of a song. Unlike locking in hip-hop movement, which contracts or tightens the body into certain shapes, popping forces the body parts to explode outward, the rupture followed by a contraction, leading to a relaxation of the muscles. The abrupt tensing and releasing of muscles creates the stop-motion illusion of animation; the movement is robotic — moving at a steady pace and suddenly coming to a clean halt without shaking or reverb — and creates a tenseness in the viewer, not knowing what body part will next explode.

Jooking, often referred to as Gangsta Walking, is a style of movement that began in Memphis, Tennessee, in the 1990s, usually performed to crunk music — up-tempo, drum machine-based hip-hop music from the early 1990s. Jooking is recognized for the “bounce” in the beat and the corresponding movement dancers make to keep up with it. Gangsta Walking is said to have “originated” by the group G-Style and the release of the video “G-Style Gangsta,” in which performers Romeo, Wolf, and Hurricane rapped while performing movements consisting of heel-toe footwork, hopping, and sliding the foot along the floor with accentuated prompts in the upper body. The group landed a production deal with Dallas Austin, the producer behind the groups TLC, Boys to Men, and Another Bad Creation; their success opened doors and gave way for other dances in Memphis, such as jookin, buckin, tickin, and choppin. In 2007, the Memphis rapper-director-producer Young Jai released the DVD Memphis Jookin Vol 1, which featured several G-Style young bloods, among them the 19-year-old Charles “Lil Buck” Riley (born May 25, 1988). Gangsta Walking requires the dancer to take quick steps, stomps, and twists, throwing arms around while moving to a beat. The style evolved by taking pieces from other street dance styles, such as two-step locomotion and spinning or walking on the tips of the toes. Jooking took the classic G-Walk steps and combined them into a smoother look, caused by changes in music during the 1990s, and was most noted for its smooth, agile footwork and dancer’s creative variation in stepping and sliding.

Like break dancing, which originated during the mid-1970s in the Bronx, primarily among Puerto Rican and African-American adolescents, many of them former gang members, and Krumping, an aggressive style of street dance created in South Central Los Angeles around 2000 that uses such moves as arm swings, chest pops, and stomps, Popping and Jooking are forms of self-expression — relief from the hardships of living in the inner city and aimed to release anger and frustration positively and nonviolently. Rarely choreographed, these street dance styles are almost entirely freestyle, danced most frequently in battles or sessions, rather than on a stage. Though myriad moves in hip-hop have become codified and are meant to display the virtuosic prowess of the dancer, the movement vocabulary of Boogz and Lil Buck in Color of Reality demonstrates a highly evolved personal and idiosyncratic expression that addresses contemporary social-political ideologies of the Black Lives Matter movement.

The onslaught of news about violence against and the murder of black men both pains Boogz and Lil Buck and awakens them to action. Boogz bounces from the couch to stand erect, his knees shimmying, arms flailing, shaking his body to attention. A burst of energy emanating from the base of the spine travels up through the torso, sending his arms into a windmill of deflections, and propelling his sneakered feet to nimbly heel-and-toe sideways. He sinks, wide-legged, into a deep and jagged kneebend that resembles the metatarsal of a tarantula, and then draws himself straight up into staunch verticality: alert, inviolable, and with a fixed jaw, he struts in slow and steady motion back to the couch, challenging Lil Buck to the floor.

Lil Buck rises from the couch to perch precariously on the tip of one sneaker. Extending the free leg to waver in the air, he dwells in a long moment of reflection. Teetering in balance, he cups both hands to his heart, as if extracting it from his chest, and tosses it into the air, setting his body into a slithering disarray of crisscrossing arms and legs.

Buck’s solo is all about how the body retains equilibrium after it has been thrown out of whack: an invisible jab to the chest causes the torso to fold over, only to be flipped into a backbend; an uppercut to the jaw causes the body to twist into a succession of turns. Arms undulating, Buck has his feet take on a furious dialogue, sliding, gliding, tip-toeing as if walking through a minefield. Turning on the tip of the toes, descending, as if being swallowed up in a well; sliding across the floor on one knee, falling backward and bouncing back: it is a narrative of fall and recovery, descent and resurrection that simulates a battle with invisible foes, in which he always recovers. Lil Buck’s recovery, the call to restitution, is so corporeally powerful as to again retrieve Boogz from the couch. Together, in slow motion, they walk single file toward the door.

The unpredictable explosions of energy; the alien forms of locomotion such as freezing body parts while carrying oneself around the floor; the intricate footwork — lifting the slide of the feet off the ground to create even higher glides (bucking); sliding with one foot while gliding with the other to give the illusion of ice skating (icing) — these elements in Boogz’s and Buck’s solos combine to narrate a personal landscape not only of pain and suffering, their bodies absorbing and deflecting the relentless cruelty bestowed upon black bodies, but also of an insistence on survival. This summoning of courage motivates the men to leave their paint-streaked sanctum for the world outside.

At the three-minute mark, the men walk out the door and onto the street with newfound consciousness and determination, dance fueling and expressing their activism. The visual clash between the dreamy quality of the painted set, faces, and clothes inside and the cold exterior of steel, brick, and concrete make the harshness of the outside world more vivid. The two make their way down the isolated street, stumbling over their feet, gazing up at the brick buildings with steel grates, and the few pedestrians — white and brown-skinned men and women — shove them, refuse their handshakes, pass them by, render them invisible. As isolated as they were in their paint-streaked room, they are more so on the cold, gray sidewalk. Suddenly, two gun shots ring out, making the men stop short in their tracks. A close-up on Boogz’s face, a cut to Lil Buck’s face, then back to Boogz, as the camera moves slowly down his chest to settle on a pool of red-soaked liquid (paint? blood?) gushing from his heart into his cupped hands. The men, cupping the blood that spills from their gut, crumble to the ground, their legs collapsing like a deck of cards. We are left with two brief close-ups on the faces of these stricken men, their large brown eyes wide open, gazing into fathomless space; the camera flies up and away, rendering the scene of men, sprawled on the street in a pool of blood, into a two-dimensional image that is abstract. The message is simple: senseless violence must come to an end.

During my first viewings of Color of Reality, I had been mesmerized by the bold, attention-grabbing visual qualities of the film — the schizophrenic back-and-forth of two-to-three dimensionality; the brash brushstrokes on skin, furniture, and walls, and Meade’s claiming all of these as paintable surfaces; the final tableaux in the hauntingly predictable ending of the film, which restores the blood-and-gore “reality” of the murder into a more cooling abstract image.

After studying the work over time, I resisted the immediate visual gratification, trying to discern the elements of the work that motivate the deepest compassionate response to the fatal shootings of these “men of color.” Meade’s visual contribution to the film’s core emotional experience skims the surface — as, no doubt, it is meant to do, as the mask of paint, the thick brush strokes of color that suffocate the pores of Boogz’s and Buck’s black skin, acts as the oppressive element to which the men must succumb, or from which they must escape. The piece does its work by quite literally moving out from under its astounding surface.

Behind the acrylic mask, Boogz’s and Buck’s warm eyes and expressive faces propel us to see the whole body — the flesh and bone of the movement so filled with pranic energy that it bleeds through the confines of the cracked acrylic paint — and feel the powerful throb of life. Meade’s visual manipulation of two-and-three dimensionality materializes the dilemma that W. E. B. Du Bois so urgently articulated about black identity and double-consciousness. As long as Boogz and Lil Buck remain two-dimensional in the painted room, they do not bring danger to themselves and are relegated to invisibility; they are about as harmless as a picture postcard. As soon as they break out of artifice of two-dimensionality to the factuality of three-dimensional aliveness, they are in dire danger.

Ultimately, neither space offers solace or safety, which is the underlying reality of the film, as these men are either relegated to the intimate internal space of living color, where the deepest emotional utterances of pain and suffering can be articulated, or can be left to the insufferable fate of existing in a colorless, terrorizing urban landscape. Inside, imprisonment; outside, prey to be hunted in the urban jungle. What, then, is the color of reality? What are the means of survival for these young black men who breathe through the suffocating confines of the mask, embodying stealth and subversion — slipping, spinning, gliding, tip-toeing nimbly through a mine field; ready to explode unpredictably from behind a mask of cool?

Color of Reality is a eulogy for all black men who dare step into three-dimensionality: Amadou Diallo in a New York City doorway; Alton Sterling outside a Baton Rouge convenience store; Philando Castile off a highway in Falcon Heights; Keith Lamont Scott in his SUV in Charlotte; Terence Crutcher standing in the middle of the street next to his stalled vehicle in Tulsa; Tyre King in an alley in Columbus. However confident they are when they venture into the world, the sobering “reality” is that no one gives a damn or wants to hear from them. Meanwhile, their deaths confirm that nothing changes, or has changed, from the time of Amadou until now. The saddest reality is that it has always been this way for people of color since the beginning of America — that is the reality of color.

Where Color of Reality makes its most original and enduring contribution to the Black Lives Matter movement is that Jon Boogz and Charles “Lil Buck” Riley have created an artistic language of movement — poetic, elevated, enduring — to give expression to black struggle in the millennium.

Constance Valis Hill is a dance historian and choreographer, and a Five College Professor of Dance (Hampshire College). She is the author of Tap Dancing America: A Cultural History (Oxford University Press, 2010), which won the de la Torre Bueno Prize for the best book in the of dance studies; and Brotherhood in Rhythm: The Jazz Tap Dancing of the Nicholas Brothers (Oxford University Press, 2000), winner of a 2001 ASCAP Deems-Taylor award. She has composed a chronology of tap dance for the Library of Congress in “Tap Dance in America: A Twentieth-Century Chronology of Tap Performance on Stage, Film, and Media by Constance Valis Hill,” a 3,000 performance record database with 180 biographies of twentieth-century tap dancers.

The post “Color of Reality”: Jon Boogz, Lil Buck, and Black Lives in Livid Color appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

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