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thosewickedlovelies · 3 years

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AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: Banana Bread (part 1)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: probably T for mature themes (implications of sexy times and violence). It will go up later ;)

Summary: You share an apartment wall with Javier Peña, but that doesn’t make it any easier to get to know him. You didn’t think your baking would be the catalyst (read: Javi is jealous that Connie gets all the extras).

Tags: Mention of blood; super vague description of wound care; alcohol; TW for Javi: you have FEELINGS bby

Word count: 2,791

A/N: I guess technically this starts at the beginning of season 1, but I don’t plan on referencing the events of the show, so imagine they’re working on things less intense than trying to catch Escobar. I found Javier really tricky to write for, so I hope this reads okay! I’m so excited about the future chapters I have outlined for this lol pls get hype.

Masterlist

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You had only been living in your new place for about a month when you got new neighbors. You were glad for the company- the four-apartment building was fairly new, and didn’t feel very lived-in. You did your best to add some personal flair to your apartment, but it still had the effect of reminding you of your own newness to this place, your lack of any deep personal connections.

Your other neighbor didn’t exactly help with that. Javier Peña had lived here for awhile before you moved in, but that was all you knew about him; you didn’t speak much beyond your neighborly greetings and his insinuating smiles. He never hides his lingering glances, but nor does he make any other moves- you sense he’s a safe type, all bark and no bite (without consent). So you always amusedly but politely ignore the invitation implicit in your exchanges. They don’t seem to have a lot of depth anyway, as if he’s just trying for the sake of trying. Granted, he probably never has to do much more than that- you’re very aware of how attractive your neighbor is on the surface. You just prefer to feel a connection slightly deeper than surface level before going home with someone.

You learn more about him from Connie, who tells you that he works at the embassy with her husband, Steve. In “janitorial services.” You raise a bemused eyebrow at that, but respect your neighbors’ privacy and don’t ask further questions. You help Connie get a job at a hospital a few blocks away from the one you’re a nurse at and promise to help her practice Spanish.

The building feels more lively now, and you’re happy to have a confidant upstairs, especially one who’s more privy to the life of your enigmatic hall-mate. You don’t know if it’s the neighborly care you feel for your new friend or if there’s some other unconscious change, but you begin to keep an ear out for Javier. You do share an apartment wall, although you don’t glean much through it. Some standard kitchen rummaging, television noise, the occasional bedroom guest (whose enterprises you try not to listen to, but damn if the man doesn’t have a perfect voice for after-dark activities). The most noticeable thing about him is the odd hours he keeps: sometimes in tandem with Steve’s schedule and sometimes not, you can never predict when he’ll be in or out.

Little do you know, you’re not the only one paying attention. Javier has spent many an evening alone with only whiskey and the television for company, but now there are other things to stimulate his senses. The smell of your baking filtering through the wall, even lingering in the hallway the next morning. The sound of you singing to the radio while clattering about the kitchen. Sometimes he turns the tv down to listen and imagines there being no wall between your two homes. What would his life be like with someone to infuse that kind of sweetness and light into it?

He doesn’t mean you specifically, necessarily. If, once or twice, your face jumps to mind while he’s taking care of himself in bed, he thinks nothing of it. You’re his beautiful neighbor- it’s a fantasy begging to be played out.

But damn if he hasn’t been tempted to make it a reality. He gets to taste your baking sometimes when you leave extras with Connie, and one day she catches his brow creased in a frown, distracted halfway through a slice of walnut banana bread.

“Javi,” Connie repeats, trying to get his attention.

“Yeah.” Javier snaps out of it, looking up.

“You’ve been staring at that piece of banana bread for a full two minutes. Is it gonna do a trick?”

He decides to lean into it, see what Connie’s reaction might be. “Only if the trick is getting me out of my pants. I don’t know a man alive who could resist the shit she makes.” He scoops another forkful into his mouth to prove his point, letting the rich, nutty flavor remind him of other places. Homes. Real homes, made of people, not the solitary kind he lives in now.

She rolls her eyes at his crudeness, but agrees. “You’re right about that. I don’t know where she gets the energy to do this after hospital shifts.”

Javier hides his next thought with another forkful of bread and a noncommittal noise. Wonder if she’d have as much energy for it if she had a man to tire her out. It was automatic, a question he couldn’t help debating with himself. Surely no one who spent that much time in the kitchen could have energy to spare on…other pursuits.

Connie is regarding him shrewdly. He avoids her gaze, focusing on finishing his plate in large mouthfuls to avoid the questions he can feel brewing. But he’s not quick enough. “Has she always brought you extras too?” she asks. Too casually, idling with her fork.

“No,” Javier says dismissively, and it’s not quite a scoff. “She wasn’t here long before you showed up. We’re not as close as you two.” Understatement. Did he sound sour about the fact?

Before Connie can ask any more questions he rises from his seat. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Tell Steve what I said.” With a nod of farewell, he turns and strides out the door.

One night you’re awoken with a start from where you’d fallen asleep on the couch. Heart pounding, you sit up, listening intently. You’d never felt unsafe here, but you’re aware of the potential dangers. What had woken you?

You hear a swear from the hall, and your muscles relax as you recognize Javier’s low voice. There’s a beat of silence, then a scraping, clinking sound. He must have dropped his keys. But then he grunts, and concern sweeps over you. You’re a nurse- you recognize the sound of a man stifling his pain.

There are long delays before each new noise that indicates an action. The doorknob twists as he grunts again, but it’s a moment before the key turns in the lock. It seems to take an age for him to get through the door; his motions sound clumsy before he closes it. Safe in the privacy of his home, so he thinks, he lets out a longer sigh, the pain and exhaustion now obvious in the sound. But you can hear his fumbling through the wall, and you worry your lip between your teeth. It is your place to go see if he’s alright?

Finally you decide that it is. You’re his neighbor and a healthcare professional, and it is your professional opinion that he sounded in-pain enough to warrant a check-up. Plus, you heard him that way before he got inside, you reason. So it’s not as if you were just being snoopy through the wall.

Just in case, though, you grab some muffins you made earlier as a backup excuse (once again mentally thanking whoever left the cookbook in your apartment). 11:30 isn’t too late for a friendly drop-by, right?

You knock softly on his door. “Javier? It’s me.” Nervous energy taps in your fingers. You’re never even been on his side of the hallway before.

There’s a shuffling sound, and the door unlatches. A narrow gap opens, into which Javier plants himself, and you immediately zero in on where he keeps one leg wedged behind the door. He leans into the elbow propped against the doorjamb above his head, while his other hand already holds a glass of what you can smell is whiskey. He looks like he would rather be anywhere but here at this moment. “Neighbor,” he greets dryly, a neutral expression on his face.

“Uhh.” You’ve never been this close to him before, and his appearance catches you off-guard. His usually combed hair is messy, waves tangling over his forehead, and he’s sweaty, the open collar of his shirt damp and the exposed skin gleaming with moisture.

Javier raises an eyebrow expectantly, taking a sip of his drink. His glances down at the plate in your hands, and it prompts you to speak.

“Hi, Javier. Uh, sorry, I know it’s late, but I thought I’d bring you some of these-“ you lift the dish “-before they come with me to work tomorrow. They’re banana bread muffins.” Your voice falters with your confidence. Your eyes can’t help but flicker over his face and chest, taking in the smear of dust on his jaw, the redness of the knuckles wrapped around his glass. Mostly you’re trying not to look at the leg he’s definitely hiding, which you can tell he’s keeping his weight off of.

Javier stares at you, not buying it for a second. His lips purse for lack of a cigarette to wrap around. He shifts the weight he has on his arm- damn, his leg hurts- and wonders what could have possibly prompted you to start bringing him baked goods now of all moments. “Why aren’t you bring those to Connie’s?” Like usual.

“Um, well-“ He sees your gaze finally drop to the leg he’s kept out of view, and too late remembers who got Connie the hospital job.

“I heard you drop your keys, and it sounded like you were in pain,” you confess. “I’m a nurse, Javier. I can help if you need it.” Though apologetic, your tone is firm, face sincere as you offer him aid. Him, your grumpy neighbor who does nothing but leer at you.

Well, he isn’t that proud. Javier sighs, and opens the door further. Your eyes widen as you see the long slice in his pant leg, blood still damp around the wound beneath. “Shit, Javier, what happened? It doesn’t matter, shit, sit down.” You surge forward without waiting for permission, tucking yourself under the arm of his uninjured side and steering him toward a dining room chair. Where he’d been about to sit down down and tend to the cut himself. He supposes your apartments mirror each other, but your familiar reaction to the layout still surprises him.

“Whoa, hey, watch the whiskey,” he exclaims, flailing out the arm holding the glass, taken aback by your sudden manhandling. With one hand still occupied by the muffins, you direct him solely with an around his waist and your shoulder propped under his armpit. He couldn’t have resisted if he tried. If it weren’t for the fiery pain in his leg, your hold would have him feeling a very different kind of heat.

You give him a look that says you won’t be fooled by his blustering as you deposit him onto the chair and the plate on the table. “May I?” you ask, kneeling, hands hovering above his wound.

“Oh, now you’re asking permission?” He scoffs in disbelief but waves a hand in consent, leaning back in the seat.

You scoff right back at him. “Look, I see blood, I make the macho men sit, okay? Why didn’t you go to a hospital with this?”

Javier studies you as you carefully lift the denim to peer at the cut on his thigh. He takes a sip of whiskey to buy time (as well as dull the stinging pain). You’ve put on a robe over what looks like pajamas, but you seem too alert to have just dragged yourself from bed. And yet...was that a pillow mark on your cheek? Just there, arcing from your temple to your jaw…

“Javier?" you're looking up at him, a touch of confusion on your face.

“Did I wake you up?” he hears himself asking.

Her gaze drops again. “No,” you answer. “Well, yes, but I fell asleep on the couch, so it was a good thing.”

Ah, that explained the pillow mark.

Finally you stand. Your hands rest on your hips, heedless of your fingertips smudged red with his blood. “It doesn’t actually look too bad. I have enough supplies here to fix you up. You stay here, take off your pants if you can manage it by yourself, and I’ll be right back.” And with that you whisk away, robe swishing through his front door.

Javier remains where he is, a bit stunned by this turn of events, your sudden insertion into his life. He shakes his head. Maybe whiskey and blood loss shouldn’t go together. He tosses back the rest of his glass anyway in order to wrangle off his jeans.

By the time you return, he feels more composed, if rather uncomfortably vulnerable, sitting in just his boxers with a bloody slice across his thigh. He watches silently as you arrange various medical supplies on the table and pull up a chair across from him. You perch on the edge of it and look at him before doing anything else. “Are you gonna tell me how you got this?”

He’s not about to tell you it was a fluke accident during one of Carillo's interrogations. Somehow, while his back was turned, the guy got free and tried to escape, swinging a knife wildly as he hurled past Javier. The cut was long, ugly, but shallow. He’d live. He couldn’t say the same for the man who delivered it.

Javier considers his answer. “Can’t,” he says. “It’s better if you don’t know.” His gaze skitters away as he speaks.

He works for the government with a poker face like that? “Janitorial work, huh?” you say dryly. Sighing, you reach for the antiseptic. “At least tell me what made it. So I can treat it properly.” You look at him steadily.

Javier looks back for a long moment. “A knife,” he says at last.

You nod, and rip open a packet of gauze. He sucks air through his teeth as the antiseptic sears the wound clean, but otherwise doesn’t speak while you work. Which is fine. You notice he’s drained his glass, and you empathize. Frankly you wish you had a drink yourself right now.

Once you’ve cleaned the cut it’s easier to see the damage. Which is minimal, thankfully. Most of the blood was probably from him moving around when it happened. You explain what you’re doing as you seal the wound closed. Only when you’re almost finished does he speak.

“Why don’t you ever bake me anything?”

It’s so unexpected that your hands still. You stare at him in astonishment, waiting for him to elaborate.

“What I mean is…christ,” Javier mutters. The unflattering fluorescent light overhead highlights the dark circles under his eyes as he scrubs a hand over his face. “You always leave extras of stuff at Steve and Connie’s. Never here.” With me.

You resume your work on his thigh, surprised to feel a tinge of guilt. “You didn’t seem like a baked goods kind of guy,” you reply, hoping you don’t sound too defensive. It was true, after all. Though you never got a sense of threat from Javier, neither did he seem the type who would appreciate domestic gestures of friendship.

He didn’t look offended, however. I’ll try anything once,” he says, the ghost of a familiar smirk suggesting he’s feeling better. But then he leans forward, all traces of smirk vanishing. “And your lemon drizzle cake was incredible.” Javier looks at you seriously. His face is too close for your level of acquaintanceship, but you don’t move away.

Surprised, you assess him anew, wondering if you’re catching a glimpse of the man beneath all the masculine posturing. He’s nicer-looking this way, you muse. His face softer, brown eyes wide and sincere. You hide just how pleased you are at this insight (which you’re sure he has no idea he’s giving you) beyond allowing yourself a small smile.

“Well, maybe next time I’ll bring you some.”

Javier can’t quite find another quippy response, so he just gives a small nod, finding it hard to draw back even after you break his gaze. He tries not to fidget as you place a final strip of tape over the gauze bandage.

“There,” you declare, your work complete. “That should hold you for tonight.” You stand and gather up your supplies, giving him care instructions as you go. “Got it?” You seem much more relaxed than when you first arrived, confidence in your work squaring your shoulders. It’s…compelling, much more so than your usual reserved smiles in the hall.

“Yes ma’am.” Javier nods, not having heard a word. “…Thank you,” he adds, begrudgingly grateful.

You smile wryly at him. “Goodnight, Javier.”

You’ve nearly reached the door when he speaks again. “Javi.”

“Hm?” Pausing, you turn back to him.

He clears his throat. “You…you can call me Javi.”

Your smile is much warmer this time, brightening your eyes, and Javier feels his heart pound. “Goodnight, Javi.”

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos fic #narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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adenei · 4 years

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Hermione doing everything to seduce Ron but fails miserably. A hilarious Valentine's day fic. XD.

Hi anon! At first you had me stumped, but the idea started to unfold, and I enjoyed writing this one in the end. Please enjoy their first Valentine’s Day together

Warning: Implied Smut, but no actual Smut.

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Valentine’s Surprises

She’d read the books. She’d gotten special permission from the Headmistress. Hermione was fully prepared to give Ron the best Valentine’s Day surprise. This was the first Valentine’s Day that they were actually together and could celebrate properly, and she’d have to make it extra special because she probably wouldn’t get to see him for his birthday since it fell during the week this year.

It’d been six weeks since they’d seen each other over Christmas hols, and this whole long distance thing was getting old pretty quick for Hermione. She looked in the mirror and observed herself. Demelza had helped with her makeup, and she’d managed to tame her hair down a bit using Sleakeazy’s. It had a nice waviness to it, and was pulled back into a side plait. She smiled as she stared down at her overnight bag. Massage oil, sexy red lingerie and a silk robe, the fuzzy throw blanket that was wrapped in decorative paper, rose petals and bath bombs...and a change of clothes for class tomorrow.

If Hermione had planned everything out properly, Ron would be in for the surprise of his life. She knew he and Harry always went to the Burrow for Sunday dinner, normally arriving at four and getting back around seven. It was 4:30 now, and Hermione was heading to Professor McGonagall’s office, where she was planning to floo to Grimmauld Place. She had two and a half hours to bake biscuits, and set things up before setting herself up in his bed for him to come home and find her.

Upon arriving at the Headmistress’ office, she was reminded that she needed to return at 8:30 the following morning, and Hermione profusely thanked her again for allowing her to leave. She stepped into the fireplace and in a few short moments found herself in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. The boys had really done a fantastic job updating the home, making it brighter and more welcoming.

Hermione set her bag down and began summoning the ingredients she needed to bake his favorite biscuits. Molly had shared the recipe. She only bothered with checking the ingredients because ‘if you could read, you could cook,’ right? Hermione quickly set to work preparing all the ingredients per the directions until she hit step seven.

Wait...how was she even supposed to do that? She understood mixing the dry and the wet ingredients together normally, but there was a spell written, and having never read any magical cookbooks, Hermione was at a loss for what to do. She began panicking, looking around the kitchen for some sort of ‘how to’ book to help her through this. Of course the boys didn’t have one! She was opening and closing every cupboard she could find as she became more and more frantic. Then, she opened one particular cupboard, and a memory flashed before her eyes.

Would it work? She had no idea, but she had to try. She was desperate for this night to go perfectly. “Kreacher?” she asked softly. At first nothing happened, but then a loud POP echoed through the kitchen and Kreacher stood before her.

“Hello, Miss. What is you doing in Masters Potter and Weasley’s home?”

“Oh, thank goodness it worked!” Hermione said with a rush of relief. “I’m here to surprise Ron tonight, Kreacher. It was my intention to bake his favorite biscuits, but I’m afraid I- I don’t know how to get past step seven. Could you help me?”

Hermione was crestfallen. She wanted to do this all herself. She didn’t want to have to ask for help, but she couldn’t leave a half attempted recipe out for Ron to see when he got back.

“Yes, Miss. Where is the recipe?” Hermione pointed to the counter.

“Thank you, Kreacher! Do you mind if I watch?” Hermione tried to hide the disappointment in herself.

Kreacher gave a grumbled sigh and a curt nod as he set to work. Hermione should have known that the elf would use nonverbal magic on the recipe, so it was partially a waste of time to watch him work. He made quick work of the rest of the steps, and magically placed perfectly round balls on the baking sheet. “Miss forgot to turn on the oven.” He took care of it. “Would you like me to take care of the rest?”

“No, no, thank you Kreacher, I can take it from here. Thank you again!” Hermione said as Kreacher fell into a low bow and then disapparated out of sight. Hermione figured she had about fifteen minutes before the oven was heated to temperature, so she grabbed her bag and set to work upstairs. Somehow it was already after six.

Hermione opened her bag and pulled out the bag of rose petals when she got to Ron’s room. She scattered them on the floor and over his bed,placing the package on the end of the bed and the massage oil on his nightstand. Satisfied with her work, she went back downstairs to find the oven was ready and she placed the cookies in the oven. Mrs. Weasley’s note said they needed to be baked for exactly ten minutes. Hmm, I wonder why so exact? Hermione thought.

She set a timer for herself as she went back upstairs to draw the bath water and change into the lingerie and robe, keeping an eye on the timer. She’d gotten the top on, but was struggling with the bottoms when she got the minute warning. Giving up on them for now, she threw the silk robe around her and turned the water off, casting a quick warming charm over it as she hurried downstairs.

Hermione opened the oven door just as the timer went off and pulled them out. They looked perfect on top, but the bottoms were tinged a bit dark. It’s okay, at least you didn’t burn them! She turned the oven off and transferred the cookies to a cooling rack. Hermione magically washed the cookie sheet and double checked the recipe once more. Ugh, not another charm! She realized Mrs. Weasley had one more charm to set the cookies with at the end. I’m sure it’ll be fine without it, she thought because she did not want to call Kreacher back again.

Hermione left the cookies to cool, and hurried back upstairs to figure out the mess of straps that were the bottom half of her outfit. It took a good ten minutes to get everything situated properly, and she checked herself in the bathroom mirror. She smiled softly and hoped she’d drive him mad with desire upon discovering her like this. Hermione didn’t often care what she looked like, and she wasn’t exactly one for seduction, but she wanted to do this for Ron.

She checked to make sure the warming charm was still intact on the tub, and dropped one of the bath bombs in. Then, Hermione hurried into Ron’s adjoining bedroom, shut the door, and hung up the robe. She carefully climbed under his covers. Now, we wait.

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Harry and Ron finally flooed home from the Burrow just before 7:30. Ron knew they were later than normal, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do on Valentine’s Day. He cursed again because he should be able to spend it with Hermione, but she was at bloody Hogwarts. Harry had invited Neville and Seamus over around 8:00 since they all might as well be alone together on this particular holiday.

“Uh, Ron,” he heard Harry say. “You didn’t bake biscuits before we left, did you?” Ron looked over and saw, were those his favorite biscuits? He didn’t even realize the sweet scent until Harry had said something.

“Er, no, mate..that’s odd,” Ron said. Harry made to pick one up, but having been poisoned before, Ron stopped him. “Harry, no! Better check with Kreacher first. We don’t have any bezoars lying around.”

Harry called Kreacher who appeared with a POP. “Kreacher, did you bake these while we were gone?”

“I helped, but it wasn’t me,” Kreacher croaked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked him.

“Surprise...doesn’t know how to bake with magic,” Kreacher muttered as he shook his head.

“Kreacher, is someone else here?” Harry asked as Ron did the homenum revelio spell. Kreacher nodded as the spell did in fact reveal a third person.

Ron looked back down at the cookies, which were his favorite. He looked at Harry, who said, “You don’t think…”

“If it is, you’re on your own with Nev and Seamus,” Ron said as he sprinted up the stairs. His bedroom door was shut, and he definitely hadn’t left it that way earlier. He opened the door to see Hermione, scantily dressed and laying in his bed. His heart damn near stopped. “Bloody hell…” was all he could manage.

“It’s about time!” Hermione couldn’t help herself. She’d been waiting over a half hour and was starting to get nervous that he wasn’t coming home.

Ron shut the door and cast a quick lock and silencing charm on the door. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he said as he met her on the bed and wasted no time in pulling her in for a passionate kiss.

“Wanted to surprise you,” she said.

“Reckon it worked. You’re bloody gorgeous, you know that?” Ron couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was stunning. He’d never seen her in lingerie before, only dreamed of it. He was basking in the glory of having her here, when he saw the look of disappointment on her face. It was subtle, but it was there. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s- it’s nothing,” she said as she looked away.

“Tell me, ‘Mione. Please?” Ron reached out and touched her chin, directing her face back to meet his.

“It’s just, everything I planned has gone wrong! I couldn’t even bake your favorite cookies! I needed Kreacher’s help and I still missed that there was a spell at the very end, so they’re probably ruined. I planned for you to be home around 7, so the bath water is probably cold, and I couldn’t go anywhere to check because I didn’t want anyone seeing me in this. I probably should have just told you McGonagall let me off for the night. Then you would have known and we could have had more time.”

Ron chuckled. “Hermione, we have the whole night ahead of us, and I'm so glad you’re here. And it’s a good thing you didn’t leave the room in this because I want you in this all to myself, though I’m about two seconds from ripping it off you,” Ron gave her a dark, wanting look then. Six weeks was way too long.

He always knew how to instantly make her feel better. “I was hoping you’d say that,” she said, giving her best seductive smile. Ron was on her in an instant, hands exploring her body and relishing in the feel of her against him. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she said against his lips.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, love,” Ron returned, becoming lost in the sexiness of his girlfriend.

#romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #don't eat that it could be poisoned!#Honestly Harry have you learned nothing??

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foryouandbits · 4 years

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So there was a patreon livestream today where Ngozi prompted Jack’s first gallery show and boudoir photography, and, well...

(Read on AO3)

***

They'd been married a year when Jack was approached by the RI Center to do a gallery show. Jack was good, yes, but the combination of Jack's talent, his new Instagram account, and recent promotion to Captain of the Providence Falconers really solidified the ask. Jack was flattered and a bit embarrassed, but he agreed and the show was set for the summer, after the season ended.

Bitty rarely saw him between January and June — Bitty was busy with his own promotional tour for his second best-selling cookbook — but Jack spent all of his free time editing his picks for the gallery as well as arranging some last-minute shoots to flush out the theme. It was a rare Saturday night when they were both home that Jack involved Bitty in one of these last-minute shoots. They'd been engaged for all of a day when Jack started taking pictures of Bitty in the bedroom. They were all beautiful, but only a handful were suitable for public consumption.

"I want to put some of these in the show," said Jack, after he'd stripped Bitty to nothing and arranged him in the bed. "If that's okay with you."

Bitty was waiting for the ask, and had already been thinking a lot about it. "Which ones?" Bitty asked.

"The nice ones," said Jack with a smile, and he pointed the lens between Bitty's legs. "The not-so-nice ones are just for me."

"Okay, but only if I get to pick them."

"Of course," said Jack, and he pointed the lens at Bitty's face instead. Bitty bit his lip and Jack said, "Yeah, do that."

The best part of the bedroom shoots were that Jack was very nice to Bitty once he put the camera down.

Bitty selected five nice but obviously sexy photos for the gallery. They were tasteful and beautiful. Jack really had an eye for this sort of thing, and it was clear with every image that there was love behind the camera. Bitty, a minor celebrity in his own right, had to clear the photos with his PR team before Jack was approved to use them, and then that was it. He was going to be naked in front of anyone who ventured into the Zimmermann exhibit at the RI Center for Photographic Arts.

He'd forgotten mostly about it until the day of the show arrived. Jack was nervous and so Bitty stayed close to him as much as possible. The opening went very well. There was a good crowd and Jack received a lot of compliments and sold a lot of prints. The gallery had been open for an hour, Bitty and Jack schmoozed and drank champagne, and then Bitty was returning from the bathroom when he ran into his parents.

"Mama! Daddy! What're you doing here?" Bitty asked in both surprise and sheer terror.

"Oh, honey, Jack invited us to the opening! These are amazing — I knew from the honeymoon photos that he had talent but I had no idea he was this good!" said Suzanne, and Bitty smiled as politely as he could.

"Thank you," he said. "Um…excuse me."

Bitty bolted in the opposite direction and found Jack laughing with the gallery director, the kind of laugh that meant Jack was charming a man he did not want to talk to. Bitty grabbed him by the arm, gave the director a big smile and said, "Excuse me, I need to speak to my husband a second."

"What's up, Bits?" Jack asked once Bitty had pulled him away.

"You invited my parents," said Bitty.

Jack looked around, a bright smile on his face, "Oh, they came? Your mom texted me after you told her it was happening and I invited them, but I had no idea they'd come all this way just for this. My parents aren't even here."

"Your parents are in Europe and thank the Lord, because I don't want them here either."

Jack frowned. "I'm sorry, Bits, I didn't think it would be a problem to invite them. They must have gotten a hotel, so it's not like you need to entertain —"

"Jack," interrupted Bitty. "They're my parents. And you have photos of me here."

Had Bitty not been so embarrassed, it would have been amusing to watch the mirth drain from Jack's face. "Oh," he said. "Have they seen —?"

"Not yet, but you and I need to police them until they leave so they do not get anywhere near that room."

Jack agreed and they hurried back to the spot where Bitty had left his parents. They were not there, and they frantically searched the gallery until Coach and Suzanne were found, leaving the very room that Bitty had not wanted them to enter. Suzanne was bright red and Coach was smirking. "Oh, hi sweetie," said Suzanne to Bitty, but she did not look him in the eye. "Hi Jack. Your photos are… well they're good."

"Thank you," said Jack, who had an insistent hand on Bitty's back. Bitty felt very faint and the champagne was not helping.

"I think we're going to go," said Suzanne. "Thank you so much for inviting us."

"Did you want to have lunch with us before you go home?" Jack asked, and Bitty stepped on his foot for being so dang polite.

"Oh, no, we're leaving early in the morning," said Suzanne, and she took her husband's hand as they quickly headed toward the exit. "Good to see you both, I'll call you when we get home."

Suzanne bolted out of the gallery and Coach suppressed giggles as he followed her. Bitty turned to Jack, who was both red and sheepish, and said, "I hate you."

"Love you too, Bits," said Jack.

#my fic #ficlet #gallery #omgcp

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invincible-selfxmade-punk · 3 years

Text

My So Called Rise Against Life

All lyrics written and owned by Rise Against

No band, not even AFI, sings the soundtrack of the last 20 years of my life like Rise Against has. I was dragged to my first Rise Against show by Emily. Emily, the suicide girl, quite possibly the hottest girl in Corpus Christi, barely 5'1 and 98 pounds soaking wet, covered in tattoos and with Angelina Jolie's lips. To this day I cannot imagine why a girl who looked like that wanted to hang with me. I had never been to a gig at that little club called The Underground where the disenfranchised youth of Corpus Christi congregated. This was the very cusp of my punk rock midlife crisis and I went in scared to death because I'd heard concerts of this nature were violent.

At this point I was already considering the decision to become straightedge. I was curious but knew little about it. The sum of my knowledge was this: two of the guys in AFI were, and the guy at the mall was. The memory of this guy never leaves me. Like a stray dog with a tennis ball, catching a welcoming scent on the air, then chasing after a passing stranger who never looked down, I chased after him and each year I spent in that fruitless pursuit felt like seven. His friendship I would never win, but he would remain on the outskirts of my life, like the brass ring I reached for again and again only to fall on my face. I would see him that night too, but I didn't know this when Em invited me out. It was billed as a hardcore show. I had no idea what hardcore was back then, I just assumed it meant a rough crowd of millitant straightedge vegans that would have a sixth sense that I wasn't one of them and chase me out the doors. Rise Against was headlining and an equally unknown band called Avenged Sevenfold was opening. I'd never heard of either. Emily wanted me to go and I wanted to get out of the house for the night so it wasn't that hard for her to twist my arm in the matter. I met her at her apartment which was filth ridden, with drug paraphernalia everywhere, a wall size Misfits poster that took up the entire SIDE of her apartment, and electric guitars propped next to skateboards. As she slipped out of her clothes and into something slinky much to my viewing pleasure, she pointed me to her freezer with a purloined bottle of tropical Schnapps from the liquor store she was working for. Toasting in miniature tea cups I downed the bright blue liquid. I remember it so well, the frost covered bottle, cold in my hand, the electric blueness pouring into what looked like a child's tea party set up. This wasn't the last drink I would take, that would come two months later, yet I remember every detail of the experience. Suited up in skimpiness, we were off to the races. We hauled ass in Emily's SUV and she sat behind the wheel, dwarfed by it's hugeness and her smallness, joint in hand, careening down the expressway and swerving around orange construction barrels. As we exited into the worst part of town I had ever seen I must have looked uneasy. She turned to me and proudly exclaimed "Don't worry, I know this place! I used to score crack here!" We walked in and the first person I saw was the straightedge boy, who was taking money at the door. It was a good sign of things to come. It would also mean I would completely ignore Avenged Sevenfold's set in s stupid quest to get his attention long enough to make conversation. But Em was a champ, she stayed with me through the whole thing. In fact, I don't remember having the guts to say a word. She talked to him, I watched him talking to her and twenty feet away M. Shadows was screaming his sexy, tattooed, egotistical lungs out but I was utterly oblivious. From there we went to the merch booth where Em bought me an Avenged Sevenfold poster that I kept for years on my wall before finally giving it away right on the cusp of actually starting to listen to them. She also bought me a Rise Against patch that is still on my Dickies bag today though it is nothing more than a mess of black thread. We wandered over to the PETA booth, watched some gruesome videos, signed up for mail and picked up a cookbook I would later use to make one of the mall kids a vegan birthday cake. Then Emily spied someone she knew and I followed her over, still looking suspiciously through the crowd sure someone was just going to come up and punch me for no apparent reason. Still following, I watched as she struck up a conversation with this cute guy in glasses. I politely listened in as they talked about how they haven't seen each other since Warped Tour. For the life of me I can't remember what they talked about. I was distracted by a guy that looked like Davey Havok. Their conversation muffled to a drone until the guy looked at his watch and said "Oh crap!! I need to be on

stage! I'll talk to after the show!" and it was at that moment I realized Emily had been talking to Joe Principe of Rise Against. This was our cue as well though there was already too much of a crowd to get near the front. There were maybe one hundred people there and Tim held every one in the palm of his hand. I was amazed. I had never heard them before in my life so I can't tell you the set list but I knew from that time on I wanted to hear more. At the end Emily and I waited at the stage to talk to Tim. I had no idea what to say so I just shook his hand and now I wish I had held on a little longer. Emily got a shirt signed and talked to him for a while. Again I was too preoccupied with the AFI look-alikes in the crowd that I wasn't paying much attention. To this day I wonder if the dude I thought looked like Davey was actually Zacky Vengeance. I'll never know for sure. Soon enough Joe was with us again and he and Emily were engaged in conversation when he turned to me and said "Did that hurt?" I had NO idea what he was talking about, I was too overwhelmed by his very presence. I actually thought he was pointing past me to the PETA booth and I stupidly sputtered "What KFC is doing to chickens?" I swear to god when I'm miserable and in need of cheering up sometimes all it takes to make me smile is thinking "Hey, Joe laughed at my joke." The night drew to an end, Emily went out with the band, and being married, I went home. Next to singing a line with Dave Peters of Throwdown, that first night with Rise Against was the best night of the last ten years of my life. The next time I would see Rise Against they would be back in Corpus, opening for Bad Religion. This happened during what I call "The Emo Dave Era". I met Dave because of Rise Against. He was a little emo boy wearing a Rise Against shirt, skipping school at the mall. I stopped him and asked him about it and well that was it, he just kept coming around. I would end up knowing him for five years and eventually hiring him to work for me. By the second time they came to town Siren Song of The Counterculture was out and I remember bragging to Dave that if it was any other band I would have just downloaded it, but for them I would actually spend my hard earned money. I remember DRINKING in the songs, trying so hard to memorize all of the tracks before the gig hit. I remember the second Rise Against gig for many reasons. It was the first gig I went to alone at a time I was in the grip of panic attacks whenever I had to be in wide open spaces by myself. Two of my "mall daughters" met me at the gates and stayed with me the whole night. I remember that. I remember Dave hitting the merch table before me and buying me Rise Against stickers that I regarded like they were jewels and kept them in some special place until I hid them so well I hid them from myself. Dave and I and the girls were in the front row together, and sadly none of them I am in contact with now. Not only that, but Dave and one of the girls I was up front with would end up working for me and stealing over $1300 from my business during their tenure as my employees. Years from knowing this though we happily stood side by side and sang along for the whole set. What I remember most about that second gig was standing in front of Joe and when he sang "Single file like soldiers on a mission." I saluted him and he saluted back. Tim was wearing the exact same shirt he wore at the first gig but I was probably the only one to notice it. And when Tim asked "Who was here at our first gig when only 20 people showed up?" I proudly raised my hand. All the memorizing I did was pretty much for naught because I was so excited to be in the front row I damn near forgot every word to every song, but for some reason I knew every word to 1,000 Good Intentions. The first Rise Against show was in August, I can't tell you the date of the second one. I made my commitment to becoming straightedge sometime between December and January. I don't know the exact date because I was so scared about the whole

thing I kept it to myself "You're the new revolution The angst filled adolescent You fit the stereotype well..."

.All I know for sure was that I'd been edge several months by the second Rise Against gig at Concrete Street in Corpus. he second Rise Against gig also brings to mind another phantom of my past: a girl I was close to named Amanda (not the Amanda I went to Warped Tour w/, that Amanda I've always called Di because her screen name was Dionysus). This was Amanda's first night aout after being kidnapped and raped. Her parents were druggies and didn't want the cops involved so the guys who did it just got away with it and I'd see them at the mall all the time afterward and I couldn't do shit. It was her and her big sister who met me at the gates and stayed with me all night. I loved those girls. . . . Again, digressing. From First To Last opened and we spent the whole set talking about how much they looked like AFI. I ended up leaving the gig early, going to the house of one of them who still lived with his folks, ringing the doorbell and leaving a note in the mail box that said 'YOUR SON RAPES LITTLE GIRLS----just thought you should know'. It didn't really help anything but it made me feel better. During this mindlessly courageous time I was blinded by my commitment. I jumped into being edge with a fervor reserved for things like joining the Hari Krishnas or Jehovah's Witnesses. It was a complete make over of every idea I'd ever held. I didn't know a great deal but once I found it, I knew it was all I had been looking for. The only other person I actually knew who was edge was the straightedge boy, who now had become god-like in my mind. He was the first face of straightedge for me, the ideal, the standard, the one thing I felt I had to live up to. Sadly, by this time he was long gone, moving away from the mall where we worked and on to better things. This fact only drove me forward in a Holy Grail level quest to find him. When he was there I was terrified of speaking to him and then when he wasn't I kicked myself for not having the courage. I was sure that if I did make my way to him, he could impart some knowledge, some advice that would make my whole solitary experience make sense. The soundtrack of that quest was Blood to Bleed: "Steps I take in your footsteps Aren't getting me closer to what is left of the dreams of what I once claimed to know Within my bones this resonates...." Within weeks of each other three amazing things happened: Ceci, my best friend Amanda(Dionysus) and I went to Warped Tour to see AFI and in the process saw Rise Against as well. Then The Sufferer and the Witness came out, and at the same time Jadey and Ceci came to visit me in Corpus for quite possibly the most idyllic summer of my life. It was that summer we saw Rise Against for the third time. At that Warped Tour again we were in front of Joe, and again when Tim sang "Single file like soldiers on a mission... " we saluted Joe and he saluted us back and it was like a little piece of heaven fell to earth, the moment was so perfect. The set was

short because it was Warped Tour but we didn't care. We were together, we loved each other and we sang along with every song we knew. Sufferer and Witness came out in July right in time for Warped Tour and the girls coming down for a visit. I remember this so well because I had a cd of the straightedge boy's band and it seemed so important for me to play it for Jadey and Ceci. Do you remember that line in The Lost Boys: "Now you know what we are, now you know what you are." ? That was how it felt for me, this romanticized notion that my edge was not my own and it was all owing and belonged to someone else. I wanted to be able to trace it like a family tree to say, if I had not met him I would not have found out about AFI, I would not have made my committment, we would have never met, so therefore the life and friendship we have shared has all traced back to THIS. Well, they weren't all that impressed. I have a very clear memory of us being outside the Sonic Drive In and Jadey asking me "Please turn that noise off and put in something else." That something else was the The Sufferer And The Witnessand it stayed in the player for the rest of the trip. Ready To Fall was the song that defined the next year, much later, that I made my edge my own. In my journey I had looked to so many others for advice or reassurance or validation. I did this because I didn't believe in myself. I thought I was weak and sought in others what would make me strong. Sometimes I received it, like messages sent back and forth the guys in Throwdown and the near religious experience of seeing them live all the times I have, of singing a line with Dave, shaking his hand. Most of the time though my search was in vain. I remember very clearly seeking out help online. One guy told me I would never know who I was until I went to a hardcore show. This wasn't exactly bad advice, hardcore shows had the most amazing energy flowing through them and it did feel good to be surrounded by like minded people. The only thing I really learned about myself through going to hardcore shows was that if God had wanted me to hardcore dance, He would not have given me boobs. There was another guy who told me only the most insecure person would EVER wear a straightedge shirt out in public and if you were sincere about it, you'd keep it to yourself. I thought that guy was nuts. The whole POINT of being edge to me was proving I was not like the idiots around me. "With your eyes Glazed and half-smiled Explain to me the details of your God-given right You point your finger In my face but You can't remember what you did last night" I asked another guy what to do if I was tempted to drink again and he told me if I was tempted I was never really straightedge to begin with and I should just do the scene a favor and kill myself already. Then there were the kids that thought I was just the bees knees and were coming to ME for advice. I had no idea what to tell these kids, but I wasn't about to tell them not to wear sXe gear or kill themselves. Because of my own search for answers I refused to turn any kid away. One day they were telling me I was their hero and begging for advice, the next they were telling me I was out of my mind and to get lost. It took a good four years before I learned not to believe them in either case. "This could be my great awakening But how would I know when it's all noise to me? Are these words falling on deaf ears?" Right in the middle of this I had the good fortune to meet a guy named Chris X from Philly. He neither worshipped nor ignored me. He was simply THERE. I have the most vivid memory of this one morning. I had the same dream about the straightedge boy only this time I stepped out and stopped him and asked him if the hormones levels in milk made people more aggressive the way steroids did and asked if I should stop drinking it. Why this popped into my head I will never know. As usual the alarm rang before the blurry form opened his mouth and imparted wisdom. I woke up at 5 am and suddenly HAD to know

the answer to the question. It happened that Chris X was up too. I contacted him and he took the time out of his morning to discuss this with me completely out of the blue. I don't know why this sticks out in my memory but it does: Him being up at five am and taking an hour out of his morning to answer some moronic question from a girl he didn't know and being so nice about it. He is still edge, we are still friends and he is still there when I need him. He is the exception to the rule. Friends fell away and I remained steadfast, yet alone. Slowly though there came the time when I realized I needed to look no further than in the mirror. It wasn't like this was a new thing. I was told this many times and yet I never believed it. Right about this time Rise Against released Ready To Fall: "But here in this moment like the eye of the storm It all came clear to me I found a shoulder to lean on An infallible reason to live all by itself I took one last look from the heights that I once loved And then I ran like hell" The heights I once loved were ego driven, the compulsion to wear a straightedge shirt every day and X's for every gig and dare anyone to tell me otherwise. It was that romanticized notion of my edge,--that it hadn't been mine and all I was, was owed to someone else. It was as if I believed someone had physically stood between me and a fridge full of alcohol that first year and kept me from it. Or that someone had been there to comfort me when my husband was drunk or in a bad mood and was calling me names or throwing me around because I dared come home with a book of Marxist writing or simply did not shut up and go along or renounce my beliefs. I healed myself, I comforted myself and I did almost all of it completely alone. It was slow in dawning but it finally came to me that I was the only one I had to inspire or impress, and my own approval was all I needed. This revelation was scored by every track on Sufferer and Witness. The fourth time I saw Rise Against, I met Ceci in Austin to see them at Stubb's. Stubb's BBQ is a grand place to see any band because if you get there early enough, you can have lunch on the balcony while watching the band's sound check. We found this out the first time we went there, seeing The Rollins Band open up for X. Going to the Rise Against show I told myself "It's not big deal, I've seen them three times before, I'm just going to kick back and eat and enjoy the sound check" but as soon as Tim and Joe took the stage I could barely consume a thing I was so overwhelmed. As we waited in line after lunch for the doors to reopen, I met Ceci's brother Jordan who is, wildly enough, still my friend. Jordan. He hovers on the edges of my life, always there with a kind word whether I actually deserved it or not. He is the only good thing to come out of my friendship with Ceci. Evergreen Terrace opened that show and we were right in front of the guy in the Straightedge Soldier tshirt and that and a brilliant cover of "Mad World" was all I remembered of their set. Circa Survive came on next and Ceci and I took turns booing them and flipping them off. Not that they were necessarily bad, but we were in no mood to entertain the mopey emo set at that point. Soon we were all piled together up front, again in front of Joe. I didn't get to salute him at that gig. Ceci's arms were too tightly around me. Ceci, her girlfriend Grace, Jordan and my husband were tangled in a sea of arms, so tightly that I wasn't sure of whose hand I was holding most of the night. Though by that time I was perfectly comfortable in my commitment, Blood to Bleed still only reminded me of one person and Ceci knew this. I felt she understood me then, I felt she was one of the very few who knew me best. Beside me was my husband, but in my heart was a dream of someone else, of someone who shared my commitment and my ideals, a dream of an idea more than a person, the perfect guy/relationship/life I would never have. Two months later I would find out my husband was seeing a girl from work

that had got him hooked on heroin. Two months later he would come to where I worked and attack me in front of multiple witnesses and when called, the police would do nothing. Two months later I would sit sobbing in the back of a police car because I was too afraid to go into my own apartment and get my things. When responding to my call the enormous officer would glare down at me and say "Why are you afraid to walk in your own home? Are you on drugs or are you just retarded?" Instead of accompanying me inside to get my things they would search me for drugs. Two months later I would realize why Henry Rollins hated cops so much. Two months later. after ten years together, I would leave my husband. I did not know any of this then. All I knew was that in that instant my heart was bleeding inside of me for want of some friendship I would never have, the one thing I believed would make my life complete. It was that friendship, that idea of a person, of perfection, of everything I wanted myself and my life to be, that seemed like the holy grail of the second part of my life. Looking back, maybe it held value only because it was unobtainable. I had not yet learned to find it in myself so I sought it so furiously in a stranger. So, with the ridiculously angelic vision of the first straightedge boy I ever met in my head, and my unfaithful husband beside me, in that crowd at Stubb's, Rise Against tore into Blood To Bleed. It was our first time to hear it live together as they had not played it at Warped Tour. Ceci looked down at me, wrapped her arms around me and held me tight because she knew exactly who I was thinking of and why. As she held on to me with one hand and ran a hand through my hair, we both screamed out those lyrics that had haunted me and driven me on for years. "This place rings with echos of lives once lived, but now are lost Times spent wondering about tomorrow I don't care if we lose it all tonight Up in flames, burning bright.... Within my bones this resonates Boiling blood will circulate Could you tell me again what you did this for?" And just like I was blind to what was about to erupt with my husband I was just as blind to time bomb ticking inside of Ceci that would turn her into a complete stranger the next time we met, at the very same place it would turn out. Had I known that this was the last time she would hold my hand and sing with me and look down on me with love and empathy in her eyes, I would not have wasted my sorrow in grieving for a friendship that never was and instead would have known to grieve for the real friendship I was losing. I should have grieved for hers, but in retrospect, it was no more real than the idea of the one I chased after so fruitlessly. "I don't love you anymore is all I remember you telling me never have I felt so cold But I've no more blood to bleed Cuz my heart has been draining into the sea...." And the strange footnote to that day, that time, that moment of hope and loss and all that was to come is this: Even though his friendship I never actually earned, in his status of a wise, polite stranger, that straightedge boy I never really knew was far more civil than Ceci. His responses, however short they were, however long it took to get them, were genuine. It is such a small thing, his honesty, yet it is more than I can say for ninety percent of the people I've known in the last several years. Another song we sang together that night was Prayer of the Refugee. I had no idea then but that song was about to describe my life. "We are the angry and desperate The hungry and the cold We are the ones who kept quiet and always did what we were told But we've been sweating while you slept so calm in the safety of your homes We've been pulling at the nails that hold up everything you own."

The split with my husband was brutal. First I had to deal with police that didn't care, who told me at one point "Well, if he tries to kill you, call us back, otherwise there's nothing we can do. He's your husband and he has the same right to live here as you do." Thanks to the police not doing anything, I was thrown out of the apartment I had paid for for ten years. The battered women's shelter was full and I would have found myself homeless had it not been for my friend Lilo. Suddenly I was having to start from scratch and then, upon finding a place, having to pack up ten years worth of my life and move it all by myself. "I hit the ground and I'm still running but I need a place to stay tonight I swear I'll be gone in the morning I just need some place warm to close my eyes." Every day I worked until the afternoon, went home and packed until 2 am, fell asleep until 5 am and then got up and did it all again. Then once I was packed I had to move it all. I can't remember why I didn't ask for help but I moved it all alone except for the bed, entertainment center and tv. "The drones all slave away They're working overtime They serve a faceless queen They never question why Disciples of a god That neither lives nor breathes But we've got bills to pay Yeah we've got mouths to feed I won't go back..." This was such a strange time. There was no way to hide what was going on: my husband came to where I worked and jumped me in front of everyone there, I had to tell my boss "My husband kicked me out and I'm homeless at the moment, could I possibly get my check a day or two early to put a deposit down on an apartment?" and I had to own up to the fact that I was straightedge and my husband was a heroin addict. "We're broken but still breathing We are wounded but we are healing We pick up right where we left off Breathe on the ashes that remain So that these coals may become fire To guide our way.." This made my life suddenly seem a really bad B movie. There was nothing to do but go on. I would have asked myself "What would that straightedge guy do in this situation?" if I'd had any idea. Instead I asked "What would Dave Peters of Throwdown do?" and of course the obvious answer was "punch something". As much as I wanted to, I couldn't do that. However, I knew for sure what he wouldn't do and that was curl up in a ball and cry. So I didn't do that either. It was a such horrible time and yet when I look back all I remember is my own strength and the exhilaration I felt when I finally left. "So give me the drug Keep me alive Give me what's left of my life Don't let me go... Pull this plug, let me breathe On my own, I'm finally free..."

Lilo and Di swore I looked great, like I had suddenly gotten 10 years younger. They said I was glowing, but unless I had come in contact with radium I certainly didn't see how. I remember thinking "Well hell, maybe the Socialists were right. Maybe 16 hour days are the way to salvation." "Wake me up inside Tell me there's a reason To take another step To get up off my knees and, Follow this path of most resistance. And where ever it takes us, Whatever it faces and wherever it leads" As I came into my own power, the straightedge boy who had loomed so god-like over the first years of my commitment shrank back down to human size. Deep down I still hoped that if he was to know of all I had gone through he would be a little proud of me for surviving with my integrity intact. But if he didn't, well that was okay too. Survive I did, survive I continue to. "Somewhere between happy, and total fucking wreck Feet sometimes on solid ground, sometimes at the edge To spend your waking moments, simply killing time Is to give up on your hopes and dreams, to give up on your... Life for you, has been less than kind So take a number, stand in line We've all been sorry, we've all been hurt But how we survive, is what makes us who we are" When I had my own place and my own life again, to celebrate I bought myself a Christmas present: a tattoo of a sparrow carrying brass knuckles in her beak. It reminded me of this lyric that had been echoing in my head the whole time: "And if strength was born from heartbreak Then mountains I could move If walls could speak I pray that they would tell me what to do." I enjoyed more than six months of solitude in my cozy little apartment on Airline. I filled my weekends with walks on the beach, solitary shopping excursions for meatless dinners, and nights were spent at the House of Rock and the Underground watching bands, enjoying the freedom of staying out without getting yelled at or called names. I spent Christmas alone on Lilo's floor stuffing myself with processed cheeseballs and watching movies. It was my first UnChristmas. The Jehovah's Witnesses would have been proud! "Warm yourself by the fire, son, And the morning will come soon. I’ll tell you stories of a better time, In a place that we once knew. Before we packed our bags And left all this behind us in the dust, We had a place that we could call home, And a life no one could touch."

But I am flawed and cowed and crippled by the Christian concept of forgiveness. And by the time I would be seeing Rise Against again, my husband would be back by my side. In West Texas his mom had ran him through the MHMR system, let them start him on 7 different drugs, ---including three different tranquilizers and pills for hallucinations and seizures, which he never once had,--- used him to get on welfare, disability, and Medicare. Once he's served the purpose, she called a friend in the sheriff's department and had him pulled from her house, drugged out of his mind on meds at the time, and stuck on a bus to Corpus Christi. The Glasscock County Sherriff's Department called me at work to TELL me "Your husband is on a bus to Corpus, he'll be there at two am. He's your responsibility now." On the bus, because of his state of stupor, he was robbed of everything but his clothes and as much as I wanted to just shove him into the closest homeless shelter, I couldn't. Had it been me, as unlikely as that would be, I would want someone to have compassion. "We are the children you reject and disregard These aching cries come from the bottom of our hearts You can't disown us now, we are your own flesh and blood And we don't disappear just because your eyes are shut" I took him in. At first it was easy. Thanks to the drugs he was sleeping 18 hours a day. Finally I started to investigate what they had him on, what he could do without and how to get him back to normal. I'm not sure how I did it, but I weened him off of every drug he was on. At first it was out of necessity since I was making too much money for him to stay on state sponsored help and he'd have run out eventually. Looking back though, had he sustained that amount of drug intake for long he would have probably died. So he was back for good and conversely Ceci and Jadey and nearly every other friend I had at the time would have turned their backs on me and flocked to other, cooler individuals. All those kids that convinced me they would have killed themselves, starved themselves, cut themselves to shreds, OD'ed, etc had they not met me, who all imposed their problems and lives on mine for five years or more and took up every spare moment of my time and every inch of my heart all turned 18 at once. In turning 18 they realized they knew it all and I was no longer worth their time. "And if you think your words will ever make a difference Think again and carry on..." My husband and I are still together, but all those friends are long gone. I wish I could say he gave up all his demons, but he didn't. He simply traded the big ones for a myriad of lesser evils. He will never be straightedge. And though he claims to be proud of me, to this day he is convinced, utterly falsely, I am hiding some secret affair with the straightedge boy from years ago. I sat him down one day and asked "Do you get that we are straightedge? Do you get that in being straightedge we could not possibly cheat on our significant others and remain straightedge? Do you get that no matter how much he influenced me I barely knew him and he barely gave me the time of day? Do you get that what you are accusing me of is utterly impossible?”

Despite his insistence on this, the idea doesn't bother him enough for him to give up his own addictions and become edge himself. He no longer asks me to change and he is no longer violent, thank god. I no longer ask him to change, though I pray every day he will. We have been together for twenty years now and I have never been with anyone else. This doesn't keep me from dreaming of some nice sXe man who shares my ideals. But I think of it much like I imagine racing on the autobahn, knowing it will never actually happen and knowing I’d never do it even if I could. "We live on front porches and swing life away We get by just fine here on minimum wage If love is a labor I'll slave til the end..." Things in my life settled down for a bit as we prepared to see the boys again at Stubb's BBQ. Through myspace I found my friend Linda that I had not spoken to in fifteen years. As we sat on the balcony at Stubb's I kept one eye on the stage and the other on the door waiting to see her again. When she walked through the doors it was like the last fifteen years never even happened and instantly we picked up right where we left off and again were tearing through Austin with her at the wheel like we had so many times in the past. Because of this joyful reunion I was not first in line when the doors opened, I was buying rainbow necklaces in the gay shops in town and snickering over whether the guy behind the counter was flirting with my husband or not. - That was a strange memory for me, being in the very back of the audience for once, singing alone as Aaron sat on a rock and read a Robert Jordan novel. I was happy to be there, the music was incredible, but the feeling was all wrong. I was isolated and alone, in the back row with my fist raised and Aaron tugging at my arm every other song asking "What song is this? Do I know this one?". I wondered if Ceci was there in the front row, holding on to someone else and convincing them she would have killed herself if they hadn't come into her life. I imagined others in the front row, in our place, saluting Joe, singing our songs while I was the interloper that did not belong anymore. We walked out of the sold out show before the encore, a long drive home facing us. Aaron never lets me stay for the encores. He always wants to hit the road. As we walked to the car, with Worth Dying For wafting through the air above us, I blew a kiss to the wind and told Ceci goodbye. "Feel me rise in the strength I've found inside the warm embracing air Like a glacier melting watch me dissipate I searched for love in an empty world but all I found was hate" It was the lyrics of Rise Against that echoed in my head when I sat down to read the words of Marx and Lenin for the first time as a whole other world opened up for me. It was Rise Against that drove me on as I worked sixty hour weeks. "We're losing daylight but I can't work any faster Under the veil of dust we go on..." Their lyrics saw me through every major event of the last several years of my life. Appeal to Reason was released in the Fall of 2008 and though the year found me miserably poor and unemployed, I still bought it the day it came out. It was on my mp3 player and as I sat in the welfare office applying for food stamps I would hear the lyrics "Despite these petty fortunes we still can't afford a life...." for the first time and I would pause a moment just for the whole zeitgeist effect of it. For Christmas of 2008 I received an email from Ceci after a year and a half of ignoring my every attempt at contacting her. I had tried everything, even terribly childish measures to get some kind of reaction but every letter---first polite, then angry, then groveling-- every call, email, and package was met with silence. A year and a half passed and then I got the email saying "I got the new Rise Against and it made me realize how much I loved and missed you and loved AFI and I want to be friends again. I know you can't forgive me but can we be friends again? There's this song on that new Rise Against that

reminds me of you." True to the bond we had once held there was certainly a song on the new Rise Against that reminded me of us too: "Identities assume us as nine and five add up Synchronizing watches To the seconds that we lost I looked up and saw you I know that you saw me We froze but for a moment In empathy I brought down the sky for you but all you did was shrug" This was exactly what happened the last time we saw each other when she turned up her nose and pretended not to know who I was, just a week after sending me a letter saying how much she loved me. This led to the year plus of her not speaking to and ignoring all attempts at contact I made, even the immature ones. "And if you see me please just walk on by Walk on by Forget my name and I'll forget it too Failed attempts at living simple lives Simple lives Always keep me coming back to you." But too much time had passed and although that Christian weakness crippled me so with my husband, for once I stood strong and had no trouble in keeping the door to my heart shut. I told her not to contact me again. "I count the times that I've been sorry Now my compassion slowly drowns If there's a time these walls could guard you Then let that time be right now."

That doesn't mean that my mind does not still light to her like a bee to a flower, the years we were friends, that feeling of love and camaraderie and the bond I imagined we had. The last three Rise Against albums play the soundtrack of our friendship whenever I turn them on. When I play Appeal to Reason I wonder if this song reminds her of me:

"It kills me not to know this but I've all but just forgotten what the color of her eyes were and her scars or how she got them" If I close my eyes I am there again in that Port Aransas condo, the night we met face to face after talking online for so long. We are huddled together in the bedroom sharing the earphones of a cd player listening to Placebo's Sleeping With Ghosts. I am pulling down the zipper of my boot and showing her three freshly razored X's cut into my ankle, the blood still stuck to a wad of tissue pressed between my sock and skin. She is crying and wrapping her arms around me and telling me she understands everything and that someday she will show me her scars too. "I'll show you mine If you'll show me yours first Let's compare scars I'll tell you whose is worse Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words..." She never did show me her scars. I wonder now if she even had any. There are lots of songs that transport me back then when she was my world. But now I know nothing about her nor anyone else I knew then was real and I wonder if that song ever reminds her of me and the way she led me to believe I was her lifeline, right up until the moment she cut me off and forgot me like a favorite toy after adolescence destroys the need for such playthings. "As the telling signs of age rain down a single tear is dropping through the valleys of an aging face that this world has forgotten ..." This is the music that accompanied my feet hitting the pavement of park sidewalks and treadmills, it is the melodies that buoyed me through endless work weeks and settled into the recesses of my heart in times of quiet contemplation. As I read words written years ago by writers we were never allowed to study in school, it is the soundtrack that played in my mind when those concepts began to make sense. When I read Ten Days that Shook the World by John Reed, what I was hearing in my head was

"but these ghosts come alive like water and wine walk through these streets singing songs and carrying signs, to them these streets belong.." As I struggled to understand the Communist Manifesto I was thinking to myself: "Unknowing, we lie and wait for the rain To wash away what they have made Face down in the dirt with your foot on my back In the distance I hear thunder crack C'mon Stand up! This system of power and privilege is about to come to an end Here come the clouds The first drop is falling down" I look back at many things and laugh. I remember when I was first looking for straightedge shirts I came upon one that said SUPPORT LEFTIST HARDCORE. I had no earthly idea what it meant and was way too scared to ask anyone. Now I can quote Trotsky. When I first turned edge I stopped eating meat for several months until my husband found out and started calling me a Communist. At the time it seemed like the worst thing in the world to be called. He still calls me a Communist but now with laughable results. I'll cock my head, say something to him in Russian, he'll mumble under his breath 'Yeah you only say that because you've had sex with the entire Communist party!", I'll roll my eyes and we go back to our common denominators of movie quotes, comic books, and making fun of people. I always loved the way the Russian alphabet looked and shortly after we were married I got a tramp stamp with his initials in Russian. He now claims it actually means "Welcome aboard, Comrade." I just laugh and we kid each other and life goes on. In the great Holy Grail of a search for wisdom that I thought could only come from the first straightedge boy I knew, I had one great fear: what if I found him again and he was no longer edge? I was terrified of this, sure that if he fell I would too, that if that touchstone was gone, all would be lost. This no longer worries me. I would be sad if it happened, but it would not affect my journey nor cause me to stumble because I have found my own way. It was hard way full of work, trial and error and pure blind luck. Maybe it would have been easier if things had gone differently and yet it is all mine and no one else's.

I have now seen Rise Against eight times each with its own small dramas, like when I was working for Job Corps, worked an 18 hour day, literally passed out in my car from low blood sugar and exhaustion—luckily before I had started the engine. I somehow made it home, downed two peanut butter sandwiches and went to the show where I had no energy to dance, but just stood there and sang.

The last show was the best in years for me. I was in the second row behind a little boy and his mom. His mom was my age and it was her son’s first concert. He was there to see NOFX. They put on an incredible show and I did my best to keep the crowd off the kid. As a reward, the mother gave me their spot and they went to the back when Rise Against came on. I had not been in the front row since that show with Ceci. I felt like I was twenty again. Rise Against is the music that scores ALL of this in my memory. It is the sound of hope and loss, of new directions and ideas, of the brass ring becoming just another small cog in the great, silent machinations of my soul. It is the music of discovering that the strength of the world lies inside my own heart. It is the sound of me walking away from what I loved, it is the joyous noise of friends you're certain is lost forever coming back to you. This is my so-called Rise Against life

#rise against lyrics #rise against #long post under cut #spilled ink

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hopetofantasy · 4 years

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Culture, parallels & meta - S2 E5

Zaterdag 20:43

C is for culture:

“I think I saw him walking at the Gaypride in Brussels” - Belgium has been organizing versions of Pride since 1978, with a brief period of absence in the 80s. The original name was ‘Roze Zaterdag’ (= ‘Pink Saturday’). Nowadays, there are two versions: the ‘Belgian Pride’ in Brussels and the (smaller) ‘Antwerp Pride’ in Antwerp, both attracting at least 90,000 participants. Various parties and festivals surround the parade, which is filled with floats from different LGBT+ organizations.

“Because now it’s time for Eurovision” - Eurovision Song Contest is an annual international song competition and the longest running tv program since 1956. Only a country that’s part of the European Broadcasting Union can participate (with the exception of Australia). The contest includes various pre-selections, a specific voting system, broadcasting on other continents, a huge legacy of singers/bands - like ABBA, Céline Dion, Lordi - and massive popularity overall. Around a million Belgians watch the show live. It’s generally seen as something to make fun of (but people also secretly root for their country's act). Though, the only time Belgium won, was in 1986 with Sandra Kim’s ‘J’aime la vie’.

Lost in translation:

Milan saying: “Dan heb ik toch iets versierd vandaag” (= at least I decorated something today), this sentence has double meaning with ‘versieren’ (= ‘hitting on someone’ and ‘decorating’), so he’s alluding on the fact that he did the decorations, just not the ‘hitting on Robbe’-part.

“Waar is de zepper?” “Zapper!” - Milan is pronouncing the word for ‘remote’ in a Dutch way, instead of Flemish.

Oop, there it is, the homophobia / heteronormativity: This entire scene is just over-the-top. The girls gasping at the reveal of Robbe’s supposed kiss, assuming that it’s true, wondering if that’s why he doesn’t flirt back, even asking Milan if his gaydar is going off and giggling at him for wanting Robbe’s number.

Perfect parallel: Jana makes fun of Luca’s moves by licking her straw in S2, as Luca tried to flirt with Robbe by licking her spoon in S1.

Funny coincidence: Milan saying “I think the Netherlands are going to win”, lo and behold: the Netherlands won that night with Duncan Laurence’s ‘Arcade’.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Milan hung up a glitter chandelier in the living room. Luca’s phone has a unicorn case.

Maandag 08:14

Perfect parallel:

Jana saying “Amber would die” about her dating Senne in a previous episode, Zoë claiming the same thing in this episode.

Senne's “If that were the case, I would’ve already done that" about Zoë thinking he wants her as a fling in previous episode, Zoë responding the same as Senne jokes about being her ‘toy boy’ in this one.

Dinsdag 08:12

Perfect parallel: Senne's “Fock, you’re sexy” when Zoë wasn’t into him in S1 and his “Stop being so hot” during their make-out in S2.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Senne having a real - ahem - in his lower regions.

Dinsdag 08:26

Oopsie: In the previous clip, Zoë wasn’t wearing her red lipstick, yet it’s all smudged in this one.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Jana's keychain changed to a blue stringy-thing and it’s dangling on her locker door this whole conversation.

Woensdag 12:23

C is for culture: “He’s underage and you’re of age, so that wouldn’t be allowed anyways” - According to Belgian law, the age of consent is 16. So even if, for example, both partners are younger than 16, it’s still technically punishable by law. Some political parties and sex-positive organizations are trying to lower the age of consent to 14, but it hasn’t been changed (yet).

Perfect parallel: Zoë stating “You’re not his type” to Milan about Robbe in S2, her assuming the boys are together after the coming out in S3.

Oop, there it is, the homophobia / heteronormativity: Milan trying to find out if Robbe has a 'Grindr' account. Zoë still thinks he’s gay, because “Maybe he wasn’t online”.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: According to the cookbook, Milan is making ‘Pappere with rose-harissa, black olives and capers’. The 'Grindr' profiles are clearly made up of stock photos.

Woensdag 16:57

Perfect parallel:

Zoë laughing with the fireplace and guitar, claiming they’re Senne’s flirting tools, in a previous episode and him joking that he’s looking for “A fireplace. And a guitar” in her room in this episode.

Senne saying “I’m the one” to Zoë in S2 and Sander's “He’s the one” about Robbe in S3.

Zoë barging into Milan’s room, catching him in a sexual act, in the first episode and Milan opening her door without knocking, interrupting the make out, in this episode.

Senne flipping Zoë onto her bed to make out in S2, Sander doing the same to Robbe in S3.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: The cookbook is called ‘SIMPEL’ by Yotam Ottolenghi. Zoë has a tiny, silver ring around her middle finger.

Woensdag 20:21

Perfect parallel: Milan barging in Zoë room, because “It was an emergency” in S2, him doing the same with Robbe, because “He urgently needs help” in S3.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: The cards on the refrigerator include a pig and Nirvana’s ‘Nevermind’ album cover.

Donderdag 14:46

Perfect parallel: Jana reminding Zoë “Who thought that Robbe was in love with me?” in S2, because she said “That guy has a big crush on you” in S1.

Oop, there it is, the homophobia / heteronormativity: The entire conversation about Robbe with the girlsquad, including: “His gaydar didn’t go off”, “I knew he was straight”, “And if he says no, you know what’s up”, “That Robbe is straight? We’ll find out tomorrow!” and “I’ll get into his pants in no time”. Plus, the plan about seducing him to check if he’s gay or not.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Zoë isn’t wearing her signature lipstick here.

Vrijdag 22:18

Perfect parallel: Max asking if Zoë “watches Temptation Island” and that she “must be a Game of Thrones fan”, which denies in this episode, while we know she watched both with her roommate in an earlier episode.

Where is Wally? Britt is dancing with Jana in the background.

Oop, there it is, the homophobia / heteronormativity: Jana trying to kiss an intoxicated Robbe to test if he’s gay and saying “This is clear. He’s so gay.” Resulting in this sad looking boy:

Oopsie:

When Senne smashes the bottle on the boy’s head, we can clearly see that it was fake glass: the tiny splinters are scattered all around, instead of bigger, jagged pieces falling to the ground.

Zoë leaves the party only with her handbag and suddenly, she's wearing a coat around her in the next shot.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: The golden balloons behind Luka spell ‘party’.

#wtfock #wtfam #cpm rewatch #skam belgium #skam

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caffeineivore · 4 years

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Commission#4

For @vchanny-og

Prompt: Makoto teaches the girls to cook. To commission me please click here for information! To see what other people are offering up commissions please see here!

The recipe for peanut butter cookies is fool-proof, three-ingredients. Four, if you added chocolate chips. The first time that Makoto had made them, Usagi had eaten two dozen by herself, and when she’d found out how easy they were, she’d begged and whined and pouted until Makoto had agreed to teach her.

“Mamo-chan would love these, don’t you think? Especially if we add chocolate! And peanut butter is healthy and has lots of protein so he wouldn’t even disapprove!”

Eggs. Crunchy peanut butter. Sugar. Chocolate chips. Parchment-lined baking sheet for 11 minutes at 170 degrees Celsius.

Makoto lines up all the ingredients on the counter, helpfully preheats the oven to the correct temperature. She goes out to her balcony to check on her plants, and is halfway through dead-heading some leggy basil when the smell of smoke comes wafting through the open door. Thoroughly alarmed, she drops her clippings and runs in, yanks the oven open to find lumps of what look to be charcoal. Usagi’s wail could pass for a fire engine careening onto the scene complete with lights and sirens.

“I don’t know what happened, Mako-chan! I didn’t do anything except what you asked, and now everything is ruined and there are NO COOKIES and you are probably going to be mad at me!”

With a long, windy sigh, Makoto checks the counter. Peanut butter, check. Sugar, check. Chocolate chips, check-- and if she’s not mistaken, Usagi dumped in about half a cup more than the recipe called for. A bowl of cracked open eggs, yolks almost mockingly bright orange, winked up at her.

Makoto shakes her head, sends Usagi out to the bakery, and cuts up some peppers and tomatoes, retrieves her snipped basil. It seemed like she’d be having omelettes for dinner.

“So we sear the steak at a high temperature in a cast-iron skillet to take advantage of the Maillard reaction for the sake of optimal flavour.” Ami scribbles some type of complex chemical molecule diagram on the margins of the recipe that she’d meticulously copied from Makoto’s cookbook, and does a few equations, and murmurs to herself. “I suppose that makes sense. The temperature of the cooking surface will exceed 140 degrees Celsius, which will cause the reactive carbonyl group of the sugar present in the molecule interact with the nucleophilic amino group of the amino acid.”

“Yeah. Something like that. And then you finish in a low and slow oven so you don’t overcook the meat. This is an expensive cut of steak-- you don’t want it to be cooked to death.”

Makoto did not care over-much about the complex chemical reactions and science behind the process-- it was enough, really, to know that as long as one controlled the temperature and time, and seasoned the pricey cut of beef simply but well (sea salt, coarse-ground pepper and a few sprigs of rosemary), one could have a fancy date night meal in the comfort of one’s own home. “Medium rare is the optimal doneness for steak, in my opinion. Use a food thermometer, cook it to 54 degrees Celsius, then rest for three minutes before slicing, and you’re good to go.”

“I understand the reasoning behind safe internal cooking temperatures,” Ami muses as she follows Makoto’s lead, carefully wiping down the cherry-red surface of her steak with a paper towel to dry it, then sprinkling on salt and pepper on both sides. “Obviously, you don’t want harmful disease-causing microorganisms to grow within your food product, and it either needs to be too hot or too cold for the bacteria and viruses and fungi to survive. But why are there exceptions to the rule? Your recipe says that a rare steak reaches the internal temperature of 51 degrees, a medium rare of 54, a medium of 58 and so on. Doesn’t that put the person who prefers to eat their steak rare at greater risk? How does a restaurant get around that liability? It’s not as though it can do a medical check of the customer to ensure that they have no history of immunological disorders or gastrointestinal problems. And what about nations which choose to ignore these limits altogether? We serve sushi and sashimi here in Japan, which is certainly not cooked to 62 or highter. The French have their Carpaccio and tartare. The Lebanese have their kibbee nayee, and so on.”

Makoto watches as Ami grinds exactly three shakes of pepper onto each side of her steak, then rolls her eyes. “How does your guy like his steak cooked? That’s all I need to know.”

Ami blushes almost as red as the meat she’s fiddling with. “Umm. Medium rare is fine. And he’s hardly ‘my’ guy. More of Mamoru’s, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’ve already split hairs over the science of cooking. I don’t think I have enough energy to argue over the exact nature of your relationship with the mouthy blond menace. Do you think you can put together a nice green salad to go with these steaks? That way we can get done quicker, and I can make myself scarce before he comes here.”

Makoto knows better than to attempt to teach Rei anything too outlandish in the kitchen. Rei is a traditionalist in every sense of the word, and probably would not be caught dead in some hipster gastro-pub serving deconstructed salad of micro-greens topped with lobster foam something-or-another no matter how many Michelin stars and James Beard awards the place might have won. Rei is also reasonably competent with her hands and not particularly accident-prone, so something like steamed gyoza seems right up her alley. Sure, making the filling and dough from scratch is an extra effort, but her friend had never been the type to settle for mediocre and ordinary.

Her first warning that things might not turn out quite so well is when Rei takes a full step back when she sets the food processor on the counter. “What is that?”

Her tone could only have been snottier had the food processor been possibly coated in dung and mildew and maybe plastered with boy band stickers. “It’s a food processor. So we can easily chop up the chives, grind up the pork.”

“I have a perfectly serviceable set of knives here.” Rei turns up her aristocratic little nose and points to the knife-block, which, to be fair, holds a set of heirloom-quality blades. Trust the senshi of war to know her sharp objects, Makoto thinks drolly, but she acquiesces. “All right. You can mince the chives with that, I guess. But I’m using the food processor to grind the meat.”

They both get to work, and Rei glares at the machine as soon as it starts up as though the noise offended her on a personal level. She’s not bad-- indeed, her cuts are decent even by chef standards, but by the time Makoto has finished up her meat and mixed in soy sauce and ginger and garlic and a pinch of allspice and an egg, she’s only about a quarter of the way done with her chives. Slowly and stubbornly, she soldiers on as Makoto measures out flour and water and a pinch of salt.

“What in the world is that?”

Now, the question is directed towards the stand mixer plugged into the wall outlet. Makoto doesn’t even dignify that with a response, and dumps in flour, salt and water, lets fly. Sure, she can knead the dough by hand if she wanted to. And stretch it, cut it, roll it out for the dumpling wrappers. And maybe, if he’s very, very lucky, Jun would have gyoza sometime within the next two years. She’s just about ready to start rolling the dough when Rei finally finishes cutting the chives by hand, and dumps them into the bowl of the ground meat mixture, scowling at the way the damp green mince clings to her fingertips. Makoto finishes mixing the filling, then shows Rei, quickly, how to pinch the edges of the dumpling shut.

She waits until the knives are washed and put away and the pot is simmering before turning to her friend with a mischievous look, tongue firmly tucked in cheek. “Well. I’m sure Jun will appreciate your painstaking work on this meal, doing things the old-fashioned way by hand. He’ll know just how much you care from the sheer effort you went through.”

If looks could kill, Makoto would be buried six feet under complete with an ugly angel-shaped monument and an elaborate wreath of flowers on her grave. She manages to keep a straight face while she takes the dumplings out the pot, then excuses herself. She’s still laughing when she arrives at her own apartment a good half-hour later.

Leave it to Minako, of course, to want to learn the most complicated, exotic dish of them all.

“I think it would be perfect! He doesn’t eat pork or beef, and I love spicy food, and I know you’ll help me and it will turn out wonderfully!”

Makoto eyes the recipe bookmarked on Minako’s phone-- very heavily starred on Pinterest, and apparently the handiwork of some world-renowned celebrity chef. “Indian lamb curry, though? That’s… quite ambitious of you, Minako.” Indeed, the list of ingredients is daunting in and of itself, even for a seasoned home cook, and Minako’s idea of gourmet home cooking generally involved cracking an egg over her boiling ramen noodles.

“Oh don’t you worry. I’ve watched a TON of youtube videos. And cooking reality shows. That Gordon Ramsay is HILARIOUS. And it all goes into the slow cooker, so it hardly requires fancy techniques and knifework and the like. All I have to do is toss everything in there and push a button and spend the rest of my time making myself look gorgeous and sexy, right??”

Makoto eyes the recipe again. She’s pretty sure that Minako has never heard of the term ‘garam masala’ in her life. “Maybe you should at least let me taste it before you serve it. Just in case.”

Six hours later a mostly-decent-looking sample of the dish is placed in front of her. The curry is an appetizing orange-brown colour, and the kitchen smells invitingly of spices. Minako had even taken the time to toss some finely chopped parsley onto the meat for a pop of bright green. Makoto is pleasantly surprised, and gives Minako an approving smile which lasts all of three seconds-- the three seconds it takes to put a piece of the meat in her mouth. She gags, and spits it out. “Oh, GOD! What did you put in this?! It tastes like the Dead Sea… if the Dead Sea were on fire!”

Minako shoots her a wide-eyed look from those baby blues, thoroughly bewildered. “Welllllll… all these videos said to salt with every step of the cooking pricess. So I did. It was probably like close to half a cup of salt total, because I added some after every other ingredient. And then I didn’t have tomato paste so I substituted ketchup. Basically the same thing, you know? And I didn’t have the tablespoon of fresh ginger, so I used a tablespoon of ginger powder, and shelled pistachios look just like cardamom pods for like a tenth of the price, and I used Old Bay seasoning instead of Bay leaves… But the only thing I absolutely couldn’t figure out at all was this ‘garam masala’ stuff! So I left it out.”

Without a word, Makoto dumps the entire contents of the slow cooker into the trash, picks up her phone, and dials the local Indian restaurant, Within short order, two takeout containers are delivered-- an Indian lamb curry, and an accompanying container of cheese naan and rice.

“Just… put it in your own plates,” Makoto tells the other girl, shaking her head between gulps of water. “The kitchen smells like you’ve been cooking all day. It’ll be our little secret and he will never, ever know.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #sailor moon #inner senshi #commission #vchanny-og

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theotherboywhonevergrewup · 4 years

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My Top Songs of 2019

It’s that time of the year again when I take a look back at all the great music that was released throughout the year and choose my top 10. Quick disclaimer as usual: These are not what I think are the best songs of the year. They’re not even my favorite songs of the year. They’re simply the top 10 songs that have defined my year. (See the end if you’re interested in the rules of the selection of this top 10; also, most of this was written in 2019 but some was written in 2020).

10. “Think About Us” - Little Mix featuring Ty Dolla $ign

“When you're dancin' in the club And the nights are getting hard Do you think about us?”

Everyone knows that I have a weakness for girl groups. UK’s Little Mix isn’t exactly my favorite, but admire how strongly they’ve stuck together as a group. Their chemistry is undeniable, both as people and as vocalists. To me, “Think About Us” was the standout track from last year’s LM5, and the addition of Ty Dolla $ign was the little shove it needed to be great. The girls shine with their vocal prowess both on their solos and together on the chorus, and Ty$’s verse splits the track nicely. The accompanying video is mesmerizing. Each of the girls look absolutely stunning, and they have individual sets representing the different parts of a relationship, with Perrie as the butterflies-in-my-stomach beginning and Jade as the icy, cold end. The lyrics are quite vague, but I think that’s the intention. It’s applicable to any stage of a relationship; it could be a love song or a break-up song. With it’s fun beat, it’s hard to pick if you want to dance to it, belt it out, or try to do both, but it’s definitely been an infectious part of 2019!

9. “Lonely for You” - Armin van Buuren featuring Bonnie McKee

“No, you're never gonna see me cry I already got a brand new life Don't you know I'm moving on And everyday I'm stronger? I don't even know you're gone”

The Netherlands’ Armin van Buuren has a recipe to get trance music to pull at your heart, and one piece that makes this apparent is “Lonely for You.” With the assist from US’s pop hit writer Bonnie McKee, this track is different yet familiar, a haunting disconnect to match the mixed feelings of the lyrics. From light synths to disco-esque drums to pure piano, Van Buuren’s track pushes and pulls the same way the tumultuous narrator’s lyrics go back and forth, with McKee’s vocals surfing on the top. The music video has a couple choreography emphasizing the push-and-pull theme, and McKee looks fantastic as usual. Van Buuren’s Balance is full of more emotionally-rich tracks for both happy and sad times, many of which utilize beautiful piano to highlight amazing vocals. “Lonely for You” is an altogether addictive track that was perfect for all the lonely nights of 2019.

8. “Antidote” - Mr Hudson

“You of all people After all we've been through Started out an angel And now you get away with murder”

As a huge fan of the UK’s Mr Hudson, I waited basically a decade for his sophomore album, and it did not disappoint. While When the Machine Stops features several tearjerking songs, “Antidote” is on the next level. The song takes the subject of betrayal and perfectly captures how trust can die. The genius is in its simplicity. Not a single instrument starts until the entire first verse is complete, letting the lyrics speak for themselves. Even when the instruments do come in, it’s just soft percussion and synths. As much as I love vocal runs and ad-libs galore, the straightforward melody had me humming this song for much of 2019.

7. “Me & You” - EXID

“Oh 야야야 더 이상 우리라는 말 하지 마마마 안 봐도 뻔하잖아 야임 마마마 지금 날 어디서 속이려 들어 그건 네 엄마마마 한테나 가서해 baby I don't care”

As I mentioned in last year’s post, 2018 was the year I fell in love with K-Pop, mostly due to Blackpink at the time. As much as I love Blackpink (and got to see them live this year!), their limited discography didn’t leave much to be loved. Enter EXID. This group is stacked: arguably South Korea’s best female rapper in the game LE, one of the best vocalists Solji, and the girl who is absolutely beautiful, sexy, cute, and smart all at the same time Hani (who may or may not be my ultimate bias, sorry Rosé). Their previous single “I Love You” missed my 2018 list because it was released so late in the year, but it turned out to be my most played song on Spotify this year. In fact, several of their songs were on that list. Like many of their previous singles, “Me & You” is an infectious dance track utilizing each member where they excel: Hani with her soft, sultry vocals, a splash of LE’s sick flows to split up the song, Hyelin’s powerhouse vocals to bring up the first chorus, Solji’s even more powerful vocals to take the song to its climax, and Jeonghwa on the dance break (low key kinda sounds like she’s singing “Baby Shark” but that’s a jam too I guess). The duality of the track is what makes it stand out, with the pretty vocals and simple verses largely contrasting from the deep and dirtier synths of the dance break. The video plays with this duality by featuring EXID as brides in white versus clubbing in neon. The rest of the WE mini album isn’t quite as dance-y but is fun to vibe to nonetheless. The group unfortunately may be over, since Hani and Jeonghwa are leaving their record label, but they’re at least sticking together for their activities in Japan for now. So many more K-Pop hits were released this year, some of my favorites being Mamamoo’s “Gogobebe,” SEVENTEEN’s “HIT,” Super Junior D&E’s “Danger,” Park Bom’s “Spring,” KARD’s “Dumb Litty,” NCT 127′s “Highway to Heaven”, NCT Dream’s “Boom”, Ong Seongwu’s “Heart Sign,” and another release to be mentioned later on this list.

6. “Heartbreak” - Hunter Hayes

“Another, ‘Almost perfect’ Didn't work, but totally worth it Better to have loved and lost my mind Than lose the nerve to even try”

I remember watching the 2013 Grammy’s and watching Hunter Hayes lose all three of his nominations, at that point becoming the “Leonardo DiCaprio never wins an Oscar” meme to me and my friends. He went on to lose two more nominations, but honestly, I always liked his music (and Grammy nominations are no small feat in the first place!). While 2017 was technically the year I had my first date and 2018 was the year I had my first girlfriend, 2019 was the year that I really put myself out there and dated the most. And yes, there was a lot of awkwardness and stupidity and mostly me messing up, but that’s just a part of life. And “Heartbreak” perfectly captures all those feelings. From the guitar to the bit of twang to the drums, this song is unabashedly fun country, and the optimistic lyrics always made me feel better. It’s like a c’est la vie Rascal Flatts’ “Bless the Broken Road” before he found the girl. The accompanying video is also fun with a groundhog day theme as he tries to win over a girl. The album as a whole is a fun listen, with “Dear God” being the other Wild Blue (Part I) standout to me. Here’s hoping Part II comes out with some vibes in 2020!

5. “Tempo” - Lizzo featuring Missy Elliott

“He look like he could gain a little weight Lick the icing off, put the rest in your face”

Lizzo exploded this year, and I’m not mad about it. She has confidence and charisma galore, and her resulting music is mad bouncy, earning her several Grammy nominations for next year, including Best New Artist. Her songs like most of Cuz I Love You can be quite loud and in-your-face, which is fine, just not exactly my style. However, get her on this more subdued R&B beat and throw in a Missy Elliott feature, I’m in. This will make any upbeat R&B lover dance, and the music video is the kind of hot and fun you would expect (with a cowboy hat you may not expect). Missy also made an imprint this year with Iconology which is her first group release since 2005′s The Cookbook. I’ve always been a fan of her work, and this is a perfect feature for her.

4. “NONE of this has been about you” - Spencer Sutherland

“I'm afraid that you would hate me if you knew, That I've become insensitive, It's true, But even if you do”

Spencer Sutherland’s “NONE of this has been about you” off his debut EP of the same name has a lot of elements about it that I would personally want in a song of my own. It starts off with a very simple piano and vocals with a tinge of soul. As he continues to sing, he puts more soul and emotion into his voice, and splashes of harmonies start to come in. A couple short riffs later and just a second before the drop. Although, it’s not a dance drop. A choir drops in for the chorus with some drums to announce that, in fact, none of this has been about you. The song eventually escalates to Sutherland’s soaring ad-libs over the choir. Beyond the musical stylings, I enjoy the message of this song. Sure, the narrator is telling someone, possibly his lover, that his struggles are personal and not something she or he should worry about, but I also like to take it as a reminder not to always worry about others or what they are thinking. For example, 2019 was the first full year I had an ex, and a lot of that time, I was worried about posting on social media because maybe she’ll think this or that is about her. Honestly, I don’t recall ever “subtweeting” about her. We’re good. Any breakup song or black and white photo I post has nothing to do with her. So this song is a nice reminder to keep it pushing and stay in your own lanes. The remaining songs on Sutherland’s EP were all also on repeat throughout the year. The man’s just got a solid voice, and I’m glad he’s continuing a soulful pop sound that is rarer than before.

3. “Beautiful goodbye” - Chen

“다시 시간을 되돌려 처음 만난다면 가로등 옆에 서 있지 말아요 미소 짓지도 왼손으로 머릴 넘기지 마요 그래야 내가 그대를 지나칠 테니까”

Now, when it comes to a piano and vocals, nothing dominated my year more than Chen, especially his debut solo single “Beautiful goodbye.” I won’t repeat all the reasons why I love his voice so much (see last year’s post), but long story short, he’s my favorite male vocalist right now. Don’t get me wrong, I love EXO and the energy they bring to their songs, but a full EP of just Chen really lets the listener feel his artistry, pulling on heartstrings every which way. In this song, the narrator is recognizing that his relationship is dead but proposing that they can hold onto it just for a bit longer until they peacefully part in spring. There’s a respect to their relationship and what it has done for them that they can take with them as separate people before they part ways. Chen’s voice takes the listener on an adventure, starting soft and simple then escalating and crescendoing to unveil the hardened pain in his voice. It’s not a sudden angry breakup, it’s more subtle and more somber. In the end, his soft vibrato and the final notes of the piano leave the listener in just as an uncertain position as the narrator; is it better to hope it stays winter forever or hope for spring to come? While I also wanted some upbeat songs from Chen, his April, and a flower EP followed by Dear my dear is chockfull of beautiful and emotional ballads.

2. “Never-ending Summer” - Cyn

“What if we don't ever have to say goodbye? I wanna keep living like we'll never die If you're mad then I'm mad too You're crying, I'm sad too I'll watch your back for you, watch mine”

Newcomer Cyn’s “Never-ending Summer” is, to me, an experience. It took me a while to appreciate its simplicity, but then it became so addictive that it itself became never-ending. The guitar or synth (or whatever that instrument is) plays on loop to emphasize the never-ending nature of the song and gives a dreamy vibe that’s somehow both modern and reminiscent of the 70s. Cyn’s simple vocals evoke a carefree feeling reminiscent of running on the beach and all the accompanying imagery with her photoshoot and lyric video. It makes sense that Cyn is part of Katy Perry’s record label Unsub Records, as this song feels somewhat like Perry’s hits off of Teenage Dream including “California Gurls” and the title track, albeit much more in Cyn’s own understated style. This summer, I learned how to surf and have fallen deeper in love with the beach (even though a stingray stung me my last time there), and this song would keep the surfing mentality continuing throughout the year, even when it gets too cold for it to be summer (or, even if my foot is bleeding to death). Doesn’t hurt that Cyn is unbelievably cute too.

1. “Lovebird” - Far East Movement featuring Lay

“I can sleep here alone, but you know it's better with you You could be by yourself, but you know it's better with two”

As I grow as a person and become more proud of who I am, I think it makes sense for me to become more proud of my Asian heritage as well as support Asians and Asian-Americans out there, especially in the music industry as music means a great deal to me. That said, it’s important to me that I don’t support people just because they’re Asian as if it’s some kind of nepotism. That kind of segregating mentality can also be unhealthy. Far East Movement are technically a one hit wonder; they have yet to outdo their 2010 hit “Like a G6.” However, this year I found out about their record label Transparent Music that has been around since 2016 with a goal of unifying eastern and western music. Their previous album aptly named Identity features a ton of artists from both sides of the word, from Hyolyn and Loco to Macy Gray and Soulja Boy (shoutout to my favorite song on that album, “Freal Luv” featuring Tinashe and yet another EXO member, Chanyeol). To me, music is about unification. It is about bringing a deeper understanding through melody and rhythm. Those are the simplest terms I can put it. I hope this is evident through this list that I appreciate people and music from all kinds of backgrounds. Even if my tastes lean one way or another from year to year, I hope my lists maintain diversity and well-roundedness. Somehow, Far East Movement has managed to capture this sense of unification in “Lovebird,” featuring Chen’s EXO bandmate from China, Lay. It’s not the most complex song; in fact, like many songs on this list, it’s quite simple. The synth bends in a carefree way that celebrates togetherness along with the lyrics, and I find that beautiful. 2019 was a year of growth and life, and “Lovebird” was the perfect song to accompany it.

*To qualify for this list, the song must have been released this year. An artist can only have one song on this list, excluding features.

#me

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tisfan · 5 years

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Add Three Eggs

Title: Add Three Eggs Square: S4 - learning to cook Warning: domestic assassins Pairing: WinterIronWidow Summary: After a mission, the Hydra team regroups in the safe house and spends a little bit of downtime… just being together. Link: A03 for @tonystarkbingo

A/n - Sequel to Sleeper (some time has passed, Tony and Nat are in their early 20s.)

The safe house was boring. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room and television, kitchen. Dining room with horrible chairs and a table shivved up on a couple of matchbooks to keep it from shaking.

Typical Hydra bullshit.

“I am taking the shower, Tosha,” Natasha said, throwing her bags near the sofa. The sofa was very ugly, some late seventies patterned scratchy plaid with thick wooden supports. A box, with cushions, really. “You patch up.”

“I can do it myself,” James snarled, and Tony was tempted for a moment to drop the Winter Soldier on his self-reliant ass. He didn’t, because James had been shot, and what’s more, Tony was pretty sure that bullet said Stark on it. In more ways than one.

“Of course you can,” Tony said, easing James onto one of the rickety dining room chairs. The light was better. And linoleum was easier to clean blood stains off of. “But I can do it faster.”

James made another unpleasant noise, and Tony ignored it, because James was probably in pain. It didn’t matter, really. There should be-- ah, there it was, under the kitchen counter, next to the dishwasher. A first aid kit.

“Here,” he said, dropping the kit on the table. “Get out of your shirt and let me see. I’ll secure the location--”

(more under the cut)

Tony scrambled around in the kitchen, finding the stash of guns and knives, bullets and money, putting all their new resources on the counter where they could see it and get to it, easily. There was a packet of false IDs just waiting for them, frozen inside a chunk of ice. Tony threw that in the sink, stopped moving long enough to help cut James out of his armor and clothing, until he was stripped to the waist. The shot was clean, in through the shoulder, out the chest. Missed anything major and didn’t break his collarbone, so all that was good.

“Just cauterize it,” James told him.

“Don’t be stupid,” Tony told him. “It’ll scar that way, and then everyone will know when they see you that you’ve been shot. Who knows, you might need to be the Summer Soldier and take a target out on a nude beach.”

James actually barked out a laugh. “Okay, okay, you win. Just make it neat.”

“Tosha does the best stitches,” Natasha said. She was wrapped in a thin towel, her hair piled wet and dripping over her head. She went to her bags and started rummaging around in them, looking for clothes.

They’d all seen each other in various states of undress a hundred times or more during training. But Tony never failed to notice how beautiful his partners were. He wondered, sometimes, if they thought he was beautiful, or only just useful.

He’d even caught them kissing, a few times, and once was pretty sure he’d heard more than just kissing. There were strict protocols in Hydra against fraternization. Tony knew they were aware.

Neither of them had ever offered to kiss him.

Tony did the best stitches because he completely ignored most of the items in the Hydra standard medikit. He’d made his own stitches, part nano-tech, part miniature ziplocks. His efforts to submit those to Hydra’s research and development, or field teams, had been lackluster.

He cleaned the wound, then laid the lock-stick material over the hole. “It won’t hurt long,” he told James.

“Tony-- thank you,” James said. He put his hand over Tony’s for a moment, the touch doing things to Tony’s mid-section. Even after James had moved his hand away, Tony could feel it, the weight of his fingers, the heat of his skin. He wondered what it would be like to kiss James. He wondered if James would let him. He wondered if it would make Natasha angry, if he did.

He’d meant to say anytime, a casual. Blow it off. No problem. And he found himself looking into those blue eyes. “Anything--” he said, then coughed. “Anything you need. You know that.”

“I do,” James said. “We both do.”

There was nothing to eat in the safe house. Not even protein bars. Which meant someone had to go for a store trip.

“Does it have to be me, because I am the girl?” Natasha demanded. Hydra trained her to be a Widow, sexy and deadly and female. And even in Hydra, who thought themselves so much better than the rest of the world, they looked down on women; women seldom made command roles, no matter how useful or skilled. Look at Hale. She was smart and strong and well-trained, highly placed in the US military. And her secret role in Hydra? Was to be a damn incubator.

Natasha put her hand to her stomach, uneasily. At least they wouldn’t do that to her.

“It has to be you because I’m Tony Stark,” Tosha said. “I can’t walk into a damn grocery store in the States and not be recognized.”

That would serve Hydra well, later. Now, Tosha’s role was mainly backup and support. Repair of the Asset. Computer infiltration, electronics, and driver.

“You will drive me,” Natasha said. She didn’t like driving.

“Of course,” Tosha said, easily enough. “What do we need for food, I’ll get you a card ready.”

“We should learn how to cook,” James spoke up, suddenly. “Not eating out of crinkly packages all day. I would kill someone for a meatloaf and gravy.”

Natasha didn’t laugh; she’d seen James kill a man for less.

Tony pulled out his pocket secretary, a device about the size of a scientific calculator, that Tony had adapted as some sort of electronic paper, phone link up, and micro computer. “What’s in it?”

James shook his head. “I don’t know. But there’s a bookstore on the way--” He unfolded the map, which had the town laid out for them in neat, Hydra code. Places to hide, switching stations for the power company, sewer lines, shops. A gun store. “Here. Get a cookbook.”

“Really?” Tony’s eyebrow went up.

“Why not,” James replied. “We will be here weeks at least, on this mission. We should have something to occupy our down time. We will learn to cook. All of us. We will eat together, at the table. As if we are a family. We may be called on, someday, to pose as simple citizens. We should know how.”

He’d expected the team to rebel against it. Cooking, cleaning. Pretending. But James had to admit, Tosha and Natasha surprised him.

Even if it took them four attempts to make anything remotely resembling meatloaf.

Natasha was a dab hand at cutting vegetables, and Tosha was slowly figuring out what instructions in the cookbook meant. Since neither of them had done more than sometimes pour boiling water into a cup of noodles, they’d had to start at the very beginning.

Tony was already up, nursing a cup of coffee and staring at the table aimlessly when James walked in.

“Do you-- I can’t figure out how to… my dad’s butler used to make eggs, not scrambled, or anything like what’s in this book, but he cut a hole in toast and they tasted like butter, it was amazing.”

“Eggs in a basket,” James said, slowly. Sometimes, he would get flashes of a life, before Hydra. A life he had once loved. A boy, he had once loved.

Now, he was Hydra, and that man was forgotten. Mostly.

But there was a boy he loved, right there, looking into his cup of coffee.

“I know how, Tosha. Would you like me to show you?”

“Yeah-- er, no, not really,” Tosha admitted. “I just want you to make me eggs. Pretend like I matter, we’re doing that, right, pretending to be a family. Dad and mom, and completely unwelcome child.”

“What?”

“I just-- I’ve lived this before, James,” Tosha said. “At home, all the time. I don’t-- I won’t tell, I promise, but I… would like to be reassigned.”

“You won’t tell who what?” James knew. Of course Tosha knew. Tosha was very smart, even if it wasn’t always obvious how observant he was.

“Look, you like her, I get that, who wouldn’t like Nat? She’s beautiful and perfect and competent, and… everything. So, so much everything. And so are you. I understand. It’s dangerous, and you’ll get caught, but-- hey, I would totally do it.”

James let himself smile. “Would you? Totally do it?”

“In a heartbeat,” Tosha admitted.

“You do not need to be reassigned,” James said. “The team would suffer in your absence.”

“There are other techs,” Tosha said. “And then I wouldn’t-- look, it’s just hard, okay.”

“We would suffer,” James promised, going to Tony and taking his hand. “Because we love you, and we would miss you.”

“What--” Tosha actually recoiled, as if love was not something he was even remotely prepared to accept.

“We’ve spoken of it, Nat and I, wondering if you would ever do more than look,” James said. “We didn’t want to scare you, or upset you. You sometimes love your machines more than anything else.”

“That’s a lie,” Tosha said, and suddenly James found himself with an armful of shaking, shivering Tosha. “That’s a lie. I know-- I know how it looks, but.”

James lifted Tosha’s chin. “But you do love us, which is good. You do not need to be reassigned.”

“No, I guess not,” Tosha said. “But we’re going to get caught.”

Natasha leaned against the door in the kitchen, her bathrobe loose and open in the front, showing off the gap between her breasts, and her tiny little underwear. “You will not let that happen.”

Tosha stiffened, swallowed, stiffened in yet another way that James could feel. “Uh, no, I guess I won’t.”

#tonystarkbingo2019 #winterironwidow #tony x bucky x nat #red room tony #domesticated assassins

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bxcketbarnes · 7 years

Text

Memories

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Author: @ninja-stiles

Words: 4880

Author’s Note: So, I had wrote this for Steff’s competition and wanted to post it, because I absolutely loved this fic so fucking much and I hope you do too. :)

Stiles Stilinski.

The boy who stole my heart.

I walked into the kitchen, finding Stiles looking out the sliding door in a pair of his boxers, sipping his coffee. I played with the ends of his flannel, stalking towards him, feeling the cold tile under my feet as I wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head against his shoulder blade.

“Morning, baby,” Stiles’ husky voice rang out, internally groaning. God, his voice is sexy as fuck. His hand landed on mine, rubbing the back of it with his thumb, turning around, greeting me with a chaste kiss to my lips. His eyes glanced down to what I was wearing, a groan erupting from the back of his throat.

“I take it you like what you see?” I smirked, pressing a kiss to his chest before looking up at him. He licks his lips, taking my left hand into his, his thumb moving the engagement ring that’s on my finger. My smirk turns into a grin, remembering the night Stiles asked me to marry him, getting butterflies in my stomach just thinking about it.

“I always loved you in my clothes,” He whispered, leaning his forehead against mine. He placed the coffee mug on the table, wrapping his arms around my lower back as we stand in each other’s arms for what seems like forever. “As much as I’d love to stay in your arms today, we have an engagement party to throw and someone needs to cook,” He mentioned and my eyes widened.

“W-Why can’t we just order out or something?” I questioned, leaning my head against his chest, hearing his chuckle vibrating through his chest. “I guess I can get my mom’s cookbook out and whip something up,” I muttered, walking over to the cupboard, reaching for the book on the top shelf, just a hair out of reach. “Baby?” I asked, turning around, seeing Stiles’ eyes glued to my ass. I snapped my fingers in his face, snapping him out of his daze as his cheeks turn pink.

“W-What?” He stuttered and I shook my head, taking my lip between my teeth. I pointed towards the cookbook and he nods his head, understanding that I couldn’t reach it and he walked over, easily grabbing it, placing it on the countertop. “Here you go, baby,” He kissed my head, walking towards the bedroom, letting me know that he was going to take a shower. I decided that I should probably put some pants on and I walked into our room, seeing Stiles’ naked ass waltzing into the bathroom. Damn. I pulled on a pair of leggings, heading back into the kitchen as I turned on some music, glancing through the cookbook, trying to find something everyone would like.

“Chicken parmesan? Yummy,” I muttered, gathering the ingredients together, glancing down at the ring once more. Stiles is the greatest guy. I put the chicken breast in the pan, covering it with the cover so it’ll cook all the way through when I found a picture of Stiles and I from high school. Memories of the past played in my head like a slide show.

I had moved to Beacon Hills my sophomore year, fearing that I would be the only girl that was new, but I wasn’t. There was another girl who had started her first day in a new town, her name was Allison and she was absolutely gorgeous. I felt a little intimidated by her beauty since I always thought that I was just an average girl. The principle had introduced us to our first class and I saw everyone’s eyes on her, no surprise there. I looked to the ground, holding my books to my chest as I felt a gaze on me, picking my head up, I look around trying to find the person who was looking at me. My breath hitched as I saw a boy my age, who has a buzzcut, honey brown eyes, pink lips, and adorable moles that plattered across his left cheek. He’s so cute. I gave him a small smile and his eyes widened, looking surprised that I smiled at him and he returned it.

The first time I talked to him was a couple days after meeting him, after I worked up the courage to approach him. I saw him at his locker by himself, the perfect time to say something so I don’t embarrass myself, and I walked up to him, tapping his shoulder. He jumped, turning quickly, facing me, his cheeks darken a bit. He looked around, seeing no one else around us as he faced me once more.

“H-Hi. Did you need something? Notes? Ca-Cause I can give them to you.” He stuttered, rummaging through his locker, trying to find his english notes and I chuckled, taking his arm in my hand. He froze, glancing down at my hand on his arm.

“Stiles, I don’t need any notes. I-I wanted to talk to you, maybe even be friends?” I questioned and he nodded his head repeatedly. I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck, giving him a tight hug.

That year I had learned about the impossible, the supernatural. Stiles’ best friend, Scott, had been bitten by a werewolf the night before school started. The entire school year we had been running from an Alpha werewolf. I was hanging out with Stiles one night, weeks away from the winter formal, which I still didn’t have a date to, but he promised me that he would do anything in his power to protect me, from anything.

Stiles had ran towards me one morning as I put in the combination to my locker, glancing over at him as I see him panting, like he ran a mile. I raised my eyebrow at him as he held up a finger, taking a minute to catch his breath. I handed him a water that was in my locker, smiling at the spastic boy as he chugged it. “Y-Y/N, I wanted to ask you something.” He panted, standing up straight as he let out a loud groan, making me chuckle. I took my bottom lip between my teeth, giving him my undivided attention as he let out a breath, mentally preparing himself. “W-Would you, maybe, want to go to the formal… with me?” He nervously asked, rubbing the back of his neck as my eyes widened, my heart pounding against my ribcage.

“Really?” I questioned, butterflies filling my stomach as he nodded his head, giving me a grin. “Oh my god, I’d love to!” I squealed, bringing him into a hug, inhaling his scent. Vanilla. He huffed out a breath, his arm wrapping around my lower back.

“Oh thank god. I was nervous you were going to say no,” He chuckled, his hand rubbing my back gently and I pulled away from him, looking up at him, making a bold move by pressing my lips to his cheek.

“I’ll see you later Stiles,” I smiled, walking down the hallway, looking back, Stiles’ hand pressed against the cheek I had kissed, a goofy grin on his lips.

I nervously ran around the house, trying to find the hair curler, but not having any luck. I groaned, glancing at the pinkish dress laid out on my bed. Tonight’s the winter formal and my nerves have flown through the roof, especially since I’m going with Stiles and I just want to impress him. I straightened my hair instead, putting on some light makeup before putting on the semi-short dress. Once I put my shoes on, there was a honk outside, signaling that Stiles has arrived. I ran down the staircase yelling to my parents that I’m leaving as I head out the door, stopping in my tracks as I noticed Stiles standing at the end of the walkway. Holy fuck. My hands became sweaty as I walked over to him, giving him a shy smile as his eyes looked me over.

“W-Wow, Y/N. You look absolutely gorgeous,” He muttered, a blush on his cheeks and I smiled at him, biting my lip.

“T-Thanks, Stiles,” I whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “You look absolutely handsome.” I smiled and he smirked, smoothing out his jacket and I let out a giggle. I placed a soft kiss to his cheek before he leads me to the jeep, opening the door for me. I muttered a thank you, hopping in and he slams the door shut, making me jump a bit.

Once we arrived at the school, we met up with Allison, Jackson, and Lydia. Stiles told me Scott was sneaking in so he’ll meet us inside. Stiles and I sat at the table a lot, stealing little glances as our friends we’re dancing with their dates. A few slow songs had come on, wishing Stiles would’ve asked me to dance, but he didn’t. The last slow song of the night began playing and I glanced over at him, his eyes already on me as he stood up, standing in front of me with his hand out towards me.

“Would… would you like to dance?” He asked nervously and I nodded my head, taking his hand in mine as he led me onto the dance floor. His arms laid against my hips as I wrapped mine around his neck, resting my head against his shoulder, swaying slowly to the beat. I smiled into his shoulder, heat radiating off his body as I felt safe in his arms. When the song had ended, we pulled away a little, staring into each other’s eyes as his face leans closer to mine. My heart pounds against my chest, my eyes fluttering shut as his lips brushed mine, a breath hitching in my throat.

“S-Stiles…” I whispered against his lips, glancing up at him. One of his hands moved to my face, rubbing my cheekbone with his thumb. “P-Please, kiss me,” His eyes widened, taking my cheeks in both his hands, pressing his lips to mine softly. I moved my lips against his, tilting my head to the side as some people had cheered for Stiles. I smiled into the kiss, pulling away from him as he had a lazy grin on his lips, his eyes on me.

That night, was the night that he had taken my first kiss, which he didn’t know. That kiss had sparked a fire in both of us. You’d be surprised at how many supernatural creatures we’d encounter in the past six years. I remember after the winter formal kiss, it took Stiles almost a year and a half to actually ask me out.

Ever since Scott, Stiles, and Allison had been surrogate sacrifices for their parents, I’d stay as close to Stiles as I possibly can. Sometimes his dad would call me in the middle of the night, asking me to come over to help calm Stiles down. Whenever I had stayed over at his house, he would sleep perfectly. Then he started sleep walking, to the point where he called Scott, telling him he was in a basement of some kind when in reality, he was in the den that Malia stayed in when she was in coyote form.

Sheriff had called me one night, telling me to meet him and Stiles at Eichen and I rushed over immediately. I quickly got out of the car, seeing Stiles and his dad at the gate, Stiles’ arms laid against his dad’s arms.

“Stiles!” I yelled out and he turned around before glaring at his dad.

“You called her? I don’t want anyone near me!” He yelled and I attacked him in a hug, tears sliding down my face. Stiles wrapped his arms around me, holding me against him tightly. “Y/N, you shouldn’t be here.” He whispered into my ear, pressing a kiss to my head.

“I don’t care, Stiles. Y-You can’t just admit yourself into this madhouse and not tell your girlfriend about it. I-I know that you want to protect everyone and I’m all for it, but please. Talk to me next time.” I grabbed his face, pressing our lips together in a quick kiss.

“I-I love you.” He whispered and I looked up at him, my lips parted. That’s the first time he’s said the ‘L’ word. Stiles wiped the tears that had started sliding down my face. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Stiles. Always have, always will. We’re going to get through this.” I quietly told him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

The nogitsune had taken over his body while he was in Eichen and declared to cause chaos on Beacon Hills. Void ended up kidnapping me when Stiles had been duplicated and the real Stiles went absolutely crazy, trying everything in his might to find me. Once they tracked Void and I down at an old concentration camp, the pack had ended up fighting the Oni, which were no longer in Kira’s mom’s possession. Allison ended up dying that night and it devastated everyone. Especially Scott. Turns out that Stiles was dying as well and I didn’t take that lightly. I couldn’t sleep a wink during the next few days. The pack managed to beat the nogitsune and Stiles had turned back to normal, slightly. He still gets nightmares every once and awhile.

I frowned, remembering the time that we had actually broken up, thinking we’d never get back together. It was the hardest six months of my life. I’m really surprised that we had actually gotten back together.

Stiles had become obsessed with figuring out what Theo was up to and why he seemed different than he was in fourth grade. At first I was fine with it because he’d ask me to help him and I’d totally be down, cause I’d be with him. But, when he stopped asking for my help and became a little distant, I began to worry. He got so obsessed that he didn’t have time for me anymore and one night, when I decided to confront him about it, he just brushed me off, saying he was tired. The last straw was when Theo himself, came up to me and told me that Stiles wasn’t the guy I had known, that he had a dark secret. Theo told me that Stiles had killed Donovan and I was livid. I stormed to Stiles’ house, barging into the house without knocking as I angrily stomped towards his room. I opened the door, seeing him on his bed and I snapped.

“Stiles fucking Stilinski. How dare you,” I yelled, pacing around his room as he looked up at me, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “H-How can you live with yourself, keeping secrets from your best friend and girlfriend, especially when I tell you everything,” I cried, tears rapidly sliding down my flushed cheeks. He stood up, standing in front of me as he reached for my hand and I pulled it away, backing away from him. “You killed Donovan and you didn’t even tell me about it. I-I don’t even care that you killed him because I’m sure there was a reason behind it. I’m mad that you didn’t tell me. What happened to our trust? What happened to us, Stiles?” I asked quietly, staring at him as his eyes pooled with tears.

“I-I didn’t want you to get hurt. I wanted to keep you safe,” Stiles muttered and I glared at him.

“Well, Stiles. I am hurt. My heart has been breaking for weeks. I-I don’t think I can do this anymore,” I swallowed and his face paled, the look of heartbreak in his eyes and I look away. “I’m sorry, Stiles,” I sobbed, running out of his house, hearing him begging for me to come back.

If I wasn’t sleeping before, I was sleeping a whole lot now. I’d cry myself to sleep every night, staring at pictures of Stiles and I. Crying has always made me tired, so every time I’d cry, I’d end up falling asleep. My phone would be going off the hook with text messages and calls from Stiles and our friends. I haven’t left my room in weeks, until one night. Scott had begged me to help them rescue Lydia from Valek and I agreed, since she was one of my best friends.

We had fought our way into Eichen, Theo and his pack also trying to get Lydia. Stiles rushed past me, running into the room as his hands rested on both sides of her face. I witnessed the gesture from outside the doorway, my heart breaking as he stared at her longingly. One of the creatures from Theo’s pack had knocked me on the ground, attempting to attack me as I try to push them off me, screaming at the top of my lungs for anyone to help me.

As I looked towards the pack, I noticed Stiles leading Lydia out of the ward, tears slipping from my eyes as it seemed I had been replaced. Should I just end the pain now? My eyes closed as I stopped fighting, waiting for the blow of impact and I opened my eyes when it didn’t deliver. Scott helped me up, pulling me into a hug as I let out a sob, gripping his shirt in my hands.

“C’mon, Y/N. We gotta go,” He ushered and I shook my head.

“Just leave me to die. I lost the one thing that was good in my life,” I muttered, sliding down the wall, sobbing uncontrollably. Stiles noticed that all but two of his friends had come out of the building. His arms were still wrapped around Lydia as he watched the building, waiting for the love of his life to come out of it. Scott wrapped his arms around me, carrying me bridal style out of the building.

“It’s going to be okay, alright?” He cooed, running out of the building. I saw Stiles, who was still wrapped around Lydia, his face washed in relief when he saw Scott and I come out safely. Stiles handed Lydia to Malia, rushing over to me once Scott had put me down, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. I let out a sob, wrapping my arms around his neck, burying my face in his neck.

“Oh my god. I’m so glad you’re okay,” He muttered, petting the back of my head and I push him away, limping towards the entrance, feeling his eyes on my back. I stopped, turning around to face him.

“If you would’ve fucking noticed that I was in trouble, I wouldn’t be in this condition. You were so fucking worried about Lydia,” I fumed, sniffling as I left, going back home, back to where I can feel safe. Stiles looked over to Scott and Scott gives him a small smile, patting him on the back.

“What took you guys so long?” Stiles questioned and Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“She didn’t want to leave. She said ‘just leave me to die. I lost the one thing that was good in my life.’” Scott frowned and Stiles’ heart broke, looking back to where I was just standing. “You have to get her back, dude. She’s miserable. Hell, you’re miserable,” Scott mentioned before grabbing Lydia, bringing her to Deaton's.

Another threat had came to town, known as the Ghost Riders, who erase people from existence. That night at Eichen, Stiles came over to my house so we could talk and decided to become friends for now. Senior year had started and Stiles and I walked into the school together, laughing about something that happened on our favorite show the night before. Scott smiled at us, happy that we’re finally somewhat together. There are times where I’ll look at him and want to just kiss him until we pass out from lack of oxygen. I was walking with Lydia as the police were investigating the school.

“Lydia, have you seen Stiles?” I asked, looking around for the spastic boy, not having any luck finding him.

“Who?” She asked, looking over at me with her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion and I raised my eyebrow. She’s kidding right?

“C’mon, Lydia,” I chuckled, “You know Stiles. My ex boyfriend who I’m madly in love with,” She stopped in her tracks, tilting her head at me and the smile on my face drops.

“Sorry, I have no idea who you’re talking about,” She kept walking and I tensed up, figuring out who’s next; Stiles. I ran out the door, looking around the entire school, trying to find him and I fish my phone out of my pocket, dialing his number as I ran out another door, running into someone. I looked up, seeing Stiles standing in front of me and I wrap my arms around him. “S-Stiles…”

“You remember me?” He asked and I nodded my head, taking his head in my hands, looking over his features. He looked behind me, seeing the horseman and he grabs my hand running. “We gotta go,” He rushed, leading me towards the jeep. “Can you see them?” He yelled and I looked around, finding nobody around as my eyes pool with tears.

“N-No. Stiles, I-I…” I started but stopped as we got to the jeep, both of us jumping in as he shoved the key into the ignition. He paused, looking around the windshield before turning his attention on me.

“Y/N,” He paused, taking his hands into mine and tears slide down my cheeks, shaking my head. “They’re going to take me. Y-You’re going to forget me,” He whispered.

“N-No, I won’t. I can never forget you Stiles,” I sobbed and he wiped the tears off my cheeks, giving me a sad smile.

“You were the best thing in my life. Y-You acknowledged me, became my best friend, you were my first kiss,” My eyes widened, I squeezed his hands, one of them going up to his hair, running my fingers through it.

“You were mine, too. P-Please don’t go. I-I need you, Stiles,” I cried and he pressed his lips to mine, dying to feel my lips against his. I pulled him closer to me, lightning cracking in the background. He pulled away, our lips brushing together and he looked into my eyes.

“Remember, I love you. I love you so much,” He gave me a tight lipped smile and as I was about to say it back, he was pulled out of the driver’s seat. I stared at the spot, whispering ‘remember’ to myself.

For months, I desperately tried to find clues that could lead to Stiles and nothing. I was beginning to lose hope until I went back to the Stilinski’s, something was drawing me there after I found a loose wallpaper a few weeks ago. I walked into the house, seeing a giant hole in the wall and I walk in, seeing Sheriff standing in the middle of the room, looking around. I let out sob, gaining his attention as I noticed the chair I would always sit in, a lacrosse jersey draped over it as I walk over to it, picking it up in my hands, inhaling his vanilla scent. I cover my mouth with my hand, a few sobs escaping my lips as his dad walked over to me, rubbing my back.

“You can’t see it, can you,” I whispered, looking up at him and he shook his head. I toss him the jersey and he actually catches it, the fabric appearing in his hands. His lips parted, analyzing the shirt. “You need to remember…”

Scott and I had found his jeep in the school parking lot, flashes of memory of that night running through my mind as we paid the man to not tow it. We both got into it, smiling a bit, running my hands against his dashboard. The police scanner makes a noise, both of us jumping and we look at each other before I take the radio into my hand.

“H-Hello?” I talked into it, hearing his voice coming out the other end.

“Y/N?!” Stiles asked and my heart skipped a beat, looking to Scott and I push down the button before speaking.

“Stiles? Is that really you?” Tears pooling in my eyes, sniffling slightly.

“It’s me. Do you remember the last thing I said to you?” I laughed, nodding my head, biting my lip.

“Y-Yeah. You said ‘remember I love you. I love you so much,” I cried and he smiled, sitting at the table the radio was on.

Ever since the night at the jeep, Scott, Malia, Lydia, and I have done everything in our power to figure out how to bring Stiles back, and we finally found something, a clue. According to Lydia, the power to bringing Stiles back was me, since I’m the person who has the strongest connection to him. She had hypnotized me and I remember a lot of memories of the two of us. The one that had changed it all was after we broke up, the night he was taken. I never said it back. The rift had opened and we waited for someone to walk out, but no one did.

“W-What… why didn’t it work,” I cried, looking back at my friends, frowns on all their faces.

Stiles let out a gasp, gripping the steering wheel as he looked around. He laughed, patting the steering wheel before driving off, heading towards my house. He jumped out of his jeep, running into my house. “Y/N!? Baby?” He ran upstairs, not finding anyone so he left, heading towards Scott’s to do the same before heading to the school.

We arrived at the school, seeing the train tracks and we all looked to each other, splitting up. Malia went with Lydia and I went with Scott. I followed him down the hallway, slowing down my run, until I stop in my tracks. I look down the hall towards the locker room, feeling drawn to it and I look towards where Scott was, finding the space empty. I run towards the locker room bursting through the doors, seeing a Ghost Rider and I elbow the glass of the fire extinguisher, grabbing it before hitting the rider on his head, knocking him out. I throw the extinguisher onto the floor, letting out a breath as I look in the direction he was pointing the gun in and my heart jumped. Stiles.

“I-I never said it back,” I mentioned, staring at him as he shook his head.

“You didn’t have to,” He muttered, walking over to me, pulling me into a kiss. I ran my hands through his hair, moving my lips against his, putting all the passion I’ve had for him into it, pulling on his flannel, getting him closer to me. He pulls away, resting his forehead against mine, pressing small kisses on my face.

“P-Please… Never, ever leave me again,” I sobbed for what seemed like the hundredth time in a few months and he chuckles, wrapping his arms around me as I rest my head against his chest.

“I’m not going anywhere baby. I’m so sorry about before and I need you in my life,” He muttered against my skin.

Stiles hadn’t heard any singing or voices in the kitchen and the music had stopped about ten minutes ago and he began to worry. He walked into the kitchen, seeing me resting my arms on the countertop, tears streaming down my face as the chicken and noodles were burnt, surprised the smoke detector hasn’t gone off yet. He turned off the burners, placing his hands on my shoulder, making me face him.

“Baby? Hey, what’s wrong?” Stiles asked and I snapped out of my thoughts, looking around the kitchen as I burned the food. I looked at Stiles, placing my hands on his chest, leaning my head against it.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” I muttered, “J-Just thinking of old memories of when we were in high school,” I looked back up at him as he wiped the tears of my face. “I love you, Stiles. Never forget that.”

He smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear as he pecked my lips. “I love you from the bottom of my heart, baby, but I don’t trust your cooking anymore. Stay out of my kitchen,” He chuckled and I rolled my eyes, throwing all the burnt food away, looking towards the clock, seeing that the party was supposed to start in an hour. “Why don’t we just get pizza,” He smiled and I nodded my head, giggling.

“God, yes. Pizza sounds amazing,” I run my hand through his hair, seeing my ring, smiling. “I can’t wait to get married to you. Maybe you can teach me how to cook and not get distracted.” Leaning on my tippy toes, I press my lips to his, hearing him chuckle, gripping my hips.

“Yeah, maybe. C’mon Mrs. Stilinski, let’s go pick up the pizza,” He smiled and I began walking towards the door, his hand coming down on my ass cheek, gasping. I looked back at him, seeing a smirk on his lips as I bit my lip, shaking my head.

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crownjulesb · 6 years

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What is now considered an annual love-in for us faithful Fannibals (fans of Hannibal), the Starfury Red Dragon conventions are a weekend outing with no equal. I’ve been to all 4 so far, Red Dragon 1, Behold the Red Dragon, and Red Dragon 3. Celebrity guests this year included the always lovely Katharine Isabelle and Kacey Rohl, the insightful Rutina Wesley, “scarf dad” (!) Tom Wisdom, the brilliant Vladimir Jon Cubrt, the fun Joe Anderson, and the unexpected joy of Ricky Whittle. Ricky, who is Shadow Moon on Neil Gaiman’s/Bryan Fuller’s American Gods (watch it on Amazon Prime in the UK), became immediately one of the Fannibal Family (despite having not, YET, seen Hannibal!), exuded constant enthusiasm and had the ability to make everyone feel included and important. Very little was off-limits with that naughty boy… check out all the various photo ops with the fans on twitter, instagram, and tumblr. My photo is included below… you get the picture.

It definitely was THAT kind of party!

A selection of my photographs are presented throughout, the rest can be found in my Red Dragon 4 Album on Flickr.

Amongst the guests there was a dance-off at every possible opportunity! Who can forget the constant “battles” between Vlad and Ricky?! With a stunned Kacey in the middle at one point.

But the most important element in this fantastic convention are my fellow Fannibals. The fan attendees are by far the nicest bunch of people you’ll ever meet. Massively creative, talented, and generous. The amount of gifts exchanged within and between the crowd is unmatched by any other fan gathering. People spend hours… days… weeks… months even, on art projects and jewellery, and so many other things, that are just shared with love. No other convention does this, and it came out of nowhere from the beginning. Fannibals are simply generous and kind… considering the subject matter that brought us together, you might have expected the opposite!

A selection of selfies with other Fannibals, the wonderful gifts from various attendees, and my contributions, the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane Visitor IDs (complete your Hannibal scrapbook with a sticker from my RedBubble page!) and Calligraphy Invitations (congrats if you ended up with a gold one!). Click to enlarge:

The wonderful gifts from all the many talented Fannibals. No one could collect everything, there was simply so much!

Minus flower crown, but plus Monica!

Home made ID badges for the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. I brought these with me to give away.

Literally only saw Caitlyn for this image, then missed each other for the rest of the con..

My Calligraphic Invitation from Hannibal himself! I taught myself Copperplate Calligraphy just to produce these.

A jaunty angle, me & Debbie.

My favourite cosplay of the weekend, Lucy as Anthony Hopkins Hannibal.

Me & Paul. Catch his awesome artwork as SketchyMagpie & in an up and coming 2000AD comic!

Me and crochet (amigurumi) Kaecilius!

Throughout the weekend there were various Q&A sessions with one or two of the guests at a time. My photos from these are within my Red Dragon 4 Album on Flickr. During which we learned that in an early job working in a hotel, Ricky secretly wished to be whisked off to a better life by a rich cougar, “Pretty Woman” style (hence the title of this blog). He also spoke at length about his experiences on Strictly Come Dancing (he was a finalist the year that Chris Hollins won, 2009). So I can check “hugging a strictly-finalist” off my to-do list! He laughs and jokes around 110% of the time, but also is very respectful to everyone around. Rutina Wesley fielded lots of very intelligent questions pertaining to her character of Reba McClane, revealing a lot of depth regarding the relationship between Reba and Francis Dolarhyde. She’s knowledgeable about Shakespeare, and a fan equated Reba’s character with Hamlet’s Ophelia at one point… very insightful indeed! Rutina stated that Reba was her favourite character to have played so far, particularly because she was chosen due to her own acting versatility, and not being typecast in any way.. big thanks to Bryan Fuller for being a fair and honest casting-genius! Tom Wisdom appeared slightly apprehensive at the beginning of the con (the crowd are fans of a cannibal.. what can you expect!) but quickly realised we’re all having a bit of fun, and became much more at home with the title “Scarf Dad”! He sent everyone #ScarfLove on twitter after the fact, and confirming on everyone’s autographs that indeed “it is that kind of party”. The funniest line from Tom, was probably in answer to the question “Why did Dimmond gravitate to Hannibal in the opening party scene on season 3?”. Answer: “Well, you saw the motorbike leathers right?!”. Say No More! I sadly missed much of the Vlad and Kacey talks, but as usual they are both very cute and fun-loving people; acting against each other must have been a blast. Vlad and Ricky seemed to have developed a bit of a competition of one-upmanship throughout the 2 and a half days.. crashing onto the stage of each other’s talks, the previously mentioned “dance-offs” were commonplace, and they were generally trying to each win over a larger proportion of the crowd. Joe Anderson spoke about enduring the makeup for Mason Verger, where taking it off was more traumatic (and smelly!) than putting it on. He frequently transitioned into the Mason voice when answering various questions, and did a few funny lines from the show (“spitters are quitters..!”). He also talked about another show “The River” that I had enjoyed watching a couple of years ago; as well as previous roles including where he’s had to play an extremely violent character, and how people react around you at the time. During Rutina and Katie’s Q&A on Sunday, Tom staged a faked fire alarm just to shake things up – whilst the ladies were trying their hardest to answer a sensible question! Katie, on the Saturday was unfortunately ill, but came back to us on Sunday (and gave us a graphic description of what she was going through the night before!). As a Red Dragon regular (along with Kacey), Katie is as enthusiastic today about Hannibal, AND our con environment, as she was from the very beginning. She says coming to Red Dragon is like “coming home”. She’s always a delight. Bless!

Oh, and to fill in a gap in Ricky’s knowledge… Leighton Buzzard is between Watford and Milton Keynes! He asked me where I was from during the Q&A, and he had NO IDEA where it is! Pop in for a cuppa any time… *wink wink*.

The rest of the weekend was spent lining up for photographs, and autographs, and catching up with my awesome friends, and handing out my own gifts of Calligraphic invitations (from Hannibal), and my ID Badges from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane! I did manage to get on the dance floor for a little while on Friday night, but I have pain issues, and can’t keep it up like all the others! On the Saturday night Ricky also made it onto the convention dance floor – you can imagine how that went…

My paid-for photo ops from across the weekend. Click to enlarge:

Autographs & a (slightly risky) photo of Ricky Whittle!

I asked for something “a little sexy, maybe?” – Ricky Whittle delivers!

Rutina Wesley & Me, Tara in True Blood, and Reba McClane in Hannibal.

Tom Wisdom, Anthony Dimmond in Hannibal.

Joe Anderson, Mason Verger in Hannibal Season 3. Leather on leather!

The cover of the Hannibal Cookbook

Autographs are filling up the inside cover of my Hannibal Cookbook.

Sean Harry and the crew from Starfury put on a fantastic convention. They’re intimate affairs, and you get to know the guests on a personal level, and they also begin to get to know you all a little bit. Starfury have got more and more efficient as the years go on, and I can’t fault them for any tiny thing. The stewards are all volunteers, and they do a really brilliant job. Applause and love all round!

Tickets for Red Dragon 5 are already available from starfury.co.uk!

"Pretty Ricky" The Honourable #Fannibal at @starfuryevents Red Dragon 4 #RDC4 - Con Report What is now considered an annual love-in for us faithful Fannibals (fans of Hannibal), the Starfury Red Dragon conventions are a weekend outing with no equal.

#American Gods #Fannibal #Fannibals #Featured #Hannibal #HannibalCon #Joe Anderson #Kacey Rohl #Katharine Isabelle #RDC4 #Red Dragon #Ricky Whittle #Rutina Wesley #Starfury #Tom Wisdom #Vladimir Jon Cubrt

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lolablackwrites · 7 years

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Christmas Reunion (James x MC)

Summary: An unexpected reunion at the mall during the holiday season brings back a rush of memories for James and MC (Beth).

Notes: This is my entry for #ChoicesCreates30 hosted by @captainsugarcakes and @holly-park! I swear, I intended for this to be a fun, sexy, NSFW reunion piece and then my brain went all dark and twisty and angsty. Oh well, I hope you enjoy it! :-D

Fanfic Master List

James was dreading this trip to the mall. Dreading, dreading, dreading. But he’d waited too long to buy his mother a birthday present and dinner was in a few hours so it was really his own fault. James sat in his car in the parking garage, trying to rouse the strength to go inside. He didn’t like malls at the best of times, but it was a week before Christmas and now the mall would be especially intolerable. All the anxious shoppers racing around trying to find last minute stocking stuffers, cranky from holiday stress while Christmas carols piped unceasingly throughout the mall’s speakers. It was enough to make even Tiny Tim say, “Fuck it, this isn’t worth the aggravation.”

When had he become such a scrooge? When James was younger, he’d rather enjoyed the holiday. The soft glow of the Christmas tree, cookies and eggnog, the cozy feeling of love and togetherness. Now, the whole thing felt like such a hassle. James had contemplated just skipping the holiday altogether, but he knew that wasn’t an option because his presence at his parents’ annual Christmas party was mandatory. Then, with his mother’s birthday only a week before the holiday, there was no escaping the season.

James sighed and climbed out of his car, steeling himself for the mall. When the automatic doors slid open, he cringed.

“JUST HEAR THOSE SLEIGH BELLS RING-TING-TINGLING-RING-TING-TINGLING TOO!”

In the center of the mall was a faux winter wonderland surrounded by rings of parents and bored children, all standing in line waiting to see Santa.

Our kid would’ve been ten by now.

The thought makes James stop cold. It’d been awhile since he thought about the miscarriage, but that memory always surfaced when he least wanted it to. Not that he ever really enjoyed thinking about it. He shook his head, trying to push away the memory. No matter how hard he tried, he could never forget the way Beth looked that day, her mood as gray as a winter sky. James suddenly felt desperate to get away from the Santaland. He glanced around and walked quickly into the closest store.

James looked around and took in the shop, which was filled with overpriced kitchen equipment and gadgets. His mother didn’t cook--he wasn’t entirely sure she knew where the kitchen was--but he resolved to find a present in here if it meant he could get this godforsaken shopping trip over with faster. He marveled at the endless rows of equipment and was surprised to find how few things he actually recognized. He wasn’t completely ignorant in the kitchen, but did people actually need to banana slicers? James looked around, lost, and noticed a row of cookbooks in the back of the store. Maybe he could find one about cooking with wine, his mother might actually try with a bottle from the vineyard. James headed back towards the books, past several aisles, when someone crashed into him, nearly knocking him into a display of teapots.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” the woman exclaimed, catching his arm just before he hit the breakables.

“No, it’s okay, it’s my fault,” James said. “I wasn’t watching where I was--” He looked over at the woman and the last word stuck in his throat. There, standing beside him, was Beth.

“Beth!” he exclaimed. “How . . . how are you?” he asked. It took him a moment to notice her belly, swollen underneath her green sweater.

“James,” she said, her eyes wide. “Um . . . good. I’m good. How are you?” she asked. She tried to smile, but James recognized the tightness of it, the forced curve. Even after all these years, he could still read her expressions like they were his own.

“Good,” he said. They fell into an awkward silence while “Up on the Housetop” started up over the store speakers. “Um, so, I guess some congratulations are in order,” he said, gesturing towards her stomach.

“Oh, thanks,” Beth said. James noticed the glittering ring set on her left hand. When did she get married? “Only a few more weeks to go. I’m due in January.”

“Well, congratulations, that’s really exciting,” James said. His throat felt tight, too many memories tugging at his attention.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Beth said. “Every time I look at you, all I see is what I’ve lost.”

“You’re not the only one who lost something!” James yelled. “This isn’t just about you!”

“So . . . what have you been up to?” Beth asked. James knew she was just being polite, but he answered anyway.

“Teaching. At Hartfield,” James said. “I’m actually in Vasquez’s old office.” James regretted mentioning that detail as soon as the words left his lips. Beth flinched. That was where it had all started, the beginning of the end.

Beth leaned back on the desk, pulling him deeper into her as she arched her back, closing around him as she came, pulling him over his own edge until they were both panting collapsed into each other.

“Oh, shit,” James said.

“What?” Beth asked, sitting upright. “Are you okay?”

“It . . . it broke.”

The flush in her face drained.

“That’s good,” Beth said quickly. “I bet you’re a good teacher.”

“They haven’t fired me yet,” James joked. She didn’t laugh. “Listen, I don’t know if you’re busy, but do you want to grab a cup of coffee or something and catch up? Decaf, of course,” he added, forcing a smile.

“Oh . . .” Beth looked uncomfortable. “Actually, I can’t, I have to go. It was nice to see you though, James.”

“Yeah, you too,” James said, but she’d already turned and was heading for the front of the store. She left and faded into the mall’s holiday crowd, leaving James by the teapots as the carols played on.

“RUDOLPH THE RED-NOSED REINDEER HAD A VERY SHINY NOSE!”

James waited for a moment, trying to give her a head start, before he left the kitchen store without a cookbook. He avoided looking at the Santaland line and he headed straight for the exit. James hurried to his car and climbed inside, cranking up the heat. He’d just get his mother some flowers; that was a much safer gift anyway.

James sat in the car for several minutes, reliving the encounter in his head. She’d looked beautiful. Pregnancy suited Beth; it always had.

“Promise to love me even when I’m huge and sending you out for pickles and ice cream at 2am?” Beth asked.

“If anything, I’ll love you more,” James replied with a grin, kissing her forehead.

A man and a woman walked by James’s car, a little girl in a puffy purple snow jacket on the man’s hip. Her hat was yellow with a large puff ball on the top. The man tickled the girl and she laughed, her voice ringing out in the parking lot, audible even over the sound of the fully cranked heater in James’s car. As soon as they’d passed, James buckled his seatbelt and drove out of the parking garage, far away from the mall.

#ChoicesCreates30 #ChoicesCreates #@captainsugarcakes #@holly-park #playchoices #choices stories you play #pixelberry #fanfic #James #James Ashton #James x MC #James Ashton x MC #The Freshman #The Sophomore #angst #So much ANGST #I need ice cream

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disinfandous · 7 years

Text

Light Reading

Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler

1,939 words - fluff, trashy romance novels, the eighth doctor ;), “disturbing the peace”, crack?

[[I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ORIGINAL POST BC IM A HUUUUUGE KLUTZ SO I’M REPOSTING IT I’M SO SORRY]]

Rose Tyler (much to her surprise, delight, and horror) finds a rather… interesting… romance novel starring none other than the Doctor himself! Try as she might to read it in peace, the Doctor just has to know what’s going on. Why is she laughing so hard?

AO3

Ever since she began travelling with the Doctor, Rose generally avoided romance novels.

The reason why was simple, really. Every time Rose read a romance novel she just kept thinking of him, of that maddening alien she now lived with. Her mind would wander, unbidden, to dangerous territory, lingering on the eternity in his eyes, the perfect fit of his hand in hers, the warmth spreading in her chest at the sight of his smile…

She couldn’t read a single limerent word from even the trashiest of bodice-rippers without her mind wandering. Romances were, for lack of a better word, hazardous. They did a impressive number on her sanity and she swore to stay away from them for the sake of her health.

Generally, she kept that promise well. She avoided suspicious sections of not only the TARDIS library, but of other libraries or bookstores they happened to visit on their adventures as well. She did her part and stayed away, but Rose didn’t take into account the books not staying away from her, and she certainly didn’t take into account the books actually being about the Doctor.

Suddenly, it wasn’t so much an issue of her mind wandering but rather of whether or not her imagination would be up to par.

Looking back at it, she would certainly claim that it wasn’t her fault. Not really. What were the odds of her finding something like that in this particular library in this particular town on this particular planet? Or anywhere in the universe at all, rather? Slim, she bet. Probably as slim as he was in that suit of his, that’s how unlikely.

Yet there it was. Just sitting there, wedged in between two other seemingly innocuous volumes. It was misshelved, clearly, by the way it was surrounded by cookbooks. She just wanted a glimpse at freaky alien food, not freaky alien Doctor fantasies.

Still, Rose quickly grabbed the book and ducked around the shelves to take a peek anyway. Ever the paradigm of restraint, she decided regret was for the future. She would burn that bridge when she got to it.

A customary glance at the cover nearly left her a giggling mess. It was so cheesy, almost exactly like those cheap paperbacks sitting around in convenience stores. The man emblazoned on the cover passionately embracing a swooning purple-skinned damsel was clearly meant to be the Doctor, even though he looked considerably different. He was painted with a velvet coat and luscious brown curls, dressed perfectly for a position in some sort of Jane Austen novel or something. In the background, partially concealed by gratuitous amounts of blossoming flowers, stood the TARDIS in all of its blue boxy glory.

The title was printed in curvilinear alien script and appropriately translated to the closest English equivalent of its meaning. It read, much to Rose’s amusement: Doctor Sexy. It sounded like some sort of quirky medical drama.

The tagline was just as bad: Fate, passion, desire… He can save the planet, but can he love?

What a loaded question.

Rose remembered the Doctor telling her as soon as they arrived that he recalled visiting this planet multiple times in the past and saving them from a new threat every time. He mentioned, offhandedly, how he figured that the locals must technically consider him some sort of hero or legend by now based upon how well he had been received before. There was no way he could have expected this.

Oh, they thought him a hero alright. Definitely.

She hadn’t even opened the thing yet and it was already too much for her. Her hands were shaking with barely concealed laughter as she flipped between random pages in the book, not really looking to actively immerse herself in it yet desperate for a juicy paragraph or two.

And God. She was not disappointed:

“Oh, Doctor,” sighed Anahi, melting into his embrace, “You came for me!”

“I could never leave you, my poignant weeping blossom,” he professed. “You have captured not only both of my wandering hearts, but my body and my soul as well. My love, I am yours.”

The Doctor placed kisses along the fleshy ridges of her neck, making Anahi squirm like a nurseling in pleasure. His strong, velvet-clad arms held her flush against him yet she still craved more. Anahi tugged at the curls concealing the undoubtedly gorgeous expanse of his bare scalp and groaned in need, the vibrations reverberating onto his lips from their position upon her throat.

“I thought you would never return,” she gasped. “I thought… After the uprising… No, after Drewan…”

“Drewan matters not. He is unworthy of you,” he growled. “He shall never have you. No one shall ever take you from me.”

“Oh, Doctor!”

“My love!”

Rose couldn’t hold it in anymore. She burst out laughing right then and there, burying her face in the pages of the book, guffaws violently jarring the serenity of the library. Blimey, this was too much. She wasn’t built for this kind of relentless assault.

She had to keep reading.

“Rose?” called a familiar voice.

Or not.

Rose quickly shut the book, shoving it behind her as she twisted around. She backed up against the shelf behind her and plastered on an innocent smile. She hoped, no, prayed, that her cheeks weren’t as flushed as she felt them to be.

The Doctor’s inquiring expression greeted her. “You were pretty loud,” he began, stepping toward her. “What’s so funny?”

“Uhh… Well,” she struggled for an explanation, “S’nothing, really. Jus’… Just this really silly—” she glanced around her, recalling precisely what section of the library she was in—“cookbook I found.”

His face contorted into further confusion.

“Yeah. Uh, more of a joke, really. 1000 recipes not to feed your… your nurseling.” Rose cringed. “Funnier than it sounds.”

“Can I see?” he asked, his confusion melting into that of skeptical acceptance and mild interest. He moved to peer behind her, but she deftly turned and pressed herself even further against the bookshelf so as to block his view. She could feel the wood digging into her arms.

“Nope. It’s not anything you’d like to see. Really. Trust me,” she said, biting her lip to suppress a chuckle at the memory of what she just read.

“Rose, if it made you laugh so unabashedly in a place like this, it’s definitely something I’d like to see.”

“No. Honest. I swear—”

It was at that moment a book fell from its perch behind her. Rose jumped in surprise and quickly bent to retrieve it, startled by the loud thump it created upon meeting the floor. It was one of the books opened for display and she must have dislodged it as she backed up.

The Doctor wasn’t one to waste an opportunity, however, and he snatched the novel from her unassuming hands the moment she shifted from her position of defense. She let out a yelp of protest and dashed to pry it away from him before he could properly witness the cover.

Too late.

She watched in mounting horror as his eyes drifted over the illustration and read the title.

“D… Doctor… Sexy…? ” he whispered, eyes wide. Rose groaned. Here we go. “This is what you were reading?”

She nodded.

“B-but—this doesn’t make sense—why would something like this… Why… What?”

Rose coughed, “Apparently, Doctor, some people think you’re um, well—” she gestured in the book’s general direction—“sexy.”

“That’s…”

“You’ve got a history here, yeah? Hero and whatnot. That’s pretty hot.”

He furrowed his brows and leafed through the pages of the novel, his face reddening as he advanced through it. His increasing embarrassment lessened the strength of her own embarrassment and by the time he looked up Rose felt the beginning of a smile gracing her lips. God, this was so surreal.

“This isn’t even anything like me!” The Doctor cried, incredulous. “I would never—I certainly wouldn’t—I would never do any of this stuff!”

She snickered, “Oh, I don’t know. Seems pretty in character to me.”

“Rose,” he whined. She grinned at him shamelessly. “You know this isn’t accurate. It’s ridiculous! Fantasy fodder. Entirely fictitious!”

“Fiction stems from reality, Doctor.”

“No, no, no, no, no. Not in this case it doesn’t.”

Rose tilted her head inquiringly, “So you honestly think you’d never say a single word of this? All those passionate declarations of love and devotion and stuff?”

“They’re the single most cliché, contrived declarations I have ever had the misfortune of discovering—”

“Oi, that’s a bit harsh, innit?”

“Harsh?”

“They’re not all that bad.”

“Rose, you can’t be defending this? That’s supposed to be me on those pages. This is slander; I am personally victimized.”

“I’m not on about that, Doctor. I agree with you there. Can’t take that book seriously, honestly,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m jus’ saying that those words are the kinda thing people love to hear. Passionate and adoring. Yeah, it’s kinda cheesy, but that’s what stuff like this is for. It’s all self-indulgent. Love for the hopeless romantic.”

He regarded her wearily, but the indignance in his gaze seemed to wane.

“When was the last time you visited? Must’ve been a long while ago judging by your appearance. You said it yourself: you’re like a legend to them. Something distant yet wonderful. Something they can pile their desires onto without much trouble. It makes them happy.”

“How do you know so much about this?”

“S’common sense,” Rose shrugged, tongue peeking out through her teasing smile.

“Don’t think so,” he said, “because then I’d be an expert on this.” The Doctor glanced back down at the book in his hands and eyed it with distaste. “Something I most certainly am not.”

Rose sighed, “Oh, tell me about it.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

It was then that a librarian glided up to them, a stern expression on her face. Turns out they have been rather disruptive for the past few minutes, dropping books and speaking absurdly loudly, and she figured it was time to insist upon their dismissal for the sake of her peace-loving patrons. They could come back, she told them, once they decided to abide by library policy.

In other words, they were kicked out.

The walk to the TARDIS had them improperly amused in the end, the Doctor’s previous dissatisfaction forgotten in the wake of other more important matters like going home. Lamenting on the fact that they never seemed to be able to go anywhere without being given the boot, they walked hand-in-hand, smiling like the trouble-makers they were.

“Tell me what you will, but I honestly don’t think you could ever catch me saying anything out of that book,” the Doctor told her upon reaching the TARDIS doors. He no longer bore his earlier offended tone, but he clearly must have felt the need to clarify.

“Really?” Rose asked. “Never call anyone your poignant weeping blossom?”

The Doctor made a face. “Never.”

She just laughed, following him up the ramp inside. Rose didn’t doubt him; he probably really would never say anything so honestly and aggressively romantic. It was an aspect exclusively reserved for the man he never could be, trapped in between the pages of that silly book, only found stemming from the minds of people who honestly weren’t all that different from Rose herself.

She might not have been so tawdry in her own musings, but she couldn’t deny how some things appealed to her immensely. She recalled a sentence from the book that stood out to her almost painfully.

My love, I am yours.

Yeah. It would be nice to hear, wouldn’t it?

#ficandchips #tenth doctor x rose tyler #ten x rose #dwfic #tenth doctor #rose tyler #doctor who #IT WASNT EVEN A GLITCH #I CANT EVEN BLAME TUMBLR #I LITERALLY JUST CLICKED DELETE AND CONFIRMED IT AND I DIDNT REALIZE UNTIL IT WAS TOO LATE #IT HAPPENED SO QUICK #fanfics #im lucky i managed to save the html code so i wouldnt have to reformat it omfg

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itshaejinju · 7 years

Text

Some Noctis Fluff

FF15 AU Noctis survives by the power of gray skull. lol So I asked @iinkpools to do a FF15 match up for me and I received the lovely Prince Noctis. And while I was driving home this came to mind and I wanted to share it with her! This is the first non smutthing I've written in a while....if you guys pick up the random mentions to music groups and anime character a epic virtual high five for you. ------ Noctis approached the door of the apartment of his girlfriend it was oddly quiet. . .was she not at home? Peering into the garage he saw her car so she was around it was summer so she wasn't going to be walking around out in this heat. Taking out his spare key smiling because he had just received it a few days ago from her she saying he spends so much time here might as well have a key. Walking into the front door it was really silent, normally that would be a nice thing for Noctis. But at his girlfriends apartment that was super rare and not natural. Her place was always filled with music all sorts of varieties of sound from classical to k-pop making the place constantly buzzing. You could hear a pin drop it was that quiet. "Jin?" Noctis called out her name feeling a bit nervous. Then he heard a frustrated shout that sound like a broken war cry. His heart leapt up into his throat was someone harming her? Summoning a short blade Noctis rushed to the sound of the shout. Boots slamming on the hardwood floor he made his way to the study were the door was partially open. A cat came rushing out the room yowling in fright the small black ball of fur whizzing past him looking terrified. "Uh okay Bassy..." Noctis muttered shaking his head as he pushed the door open all the way. The large computer desk that was filled with books, two computers and a coffee pot. The room held a large sofa that Noctis slept on when he was attempting to help Jinju write and work on helping Ignis publish his first cookbook. Though he wasn't sure why she wasn't working on her own cookbook is beyond him. "Jin?" He called out not seeing her around. "Huh?" He heard a muffled voice coming from under the desk. Going to the desk clearly there was no danger that a sword could fix returning the blade he noticed a shapely ass sticking out. Moaning slightly and turning a deep shade of red at the sight of his girlfriend bent over wearing a short skirt showing a lot of thigh right now. Why was she such a tease like this? Kneeling down beside her placing a hand on the left thigh rubbing fingers over the bare skin. "Hey!" She shouted shocked slamming her head on the top of the desk. Jolting out of spot and shoving Noctis a little as he started to laugh at her reaction. Her glasses were skewed on her face, violet hair covering her bright green eyes, she glared at him. "I am in a middle of a crisis right now Noct!" She exclaimed tossing her arms in the air breasts bouncing as she did. "Yeah what is going on it's silent in here." Noctis commented motioning around the room. The whole apartment was wired to speakers so if the computers or the phone was plugged in to play music the entire apartment would hear it. "That's my crisis! The CD player on the laptop is not working and that craptastic thing can't go online for some reason after Prompto borrowed it to edit some photos. The desktop well I don't know what is wrong with it the damn thing won't play any of my YouTube videos or anything like no sound at all. Then my phone died....I'm going crazy Noct, I swear I heard my own heartbeat earlier...." She said with a panicked tone she was getting flustered breathing raggedly and looking like she was going to have a panic attack. Noctis let out a small laugh she looked so cute like that he didn't quite understand her need for constant music reaching forward he pulled her into a hug. "Calm down okay?" He said soothingly kissing the side of her face not liking that she was panicking so much over this. "I can't Noct I need the music...the phone is charging but I can't plug it into the system and charge it at the same time." She sobbed wrapping arms around him tightly, taking a deep breath enjoying his scent. "I unplugged everything and reinstalled shit and it's still not working..." She continued sounding a bit muffled as she had her face buried in his chest. "Well I'm not really good with computers hun but let me have a look at it okay?" "Really? Please I'll make you those cookies you love so much." She said looking up at him pushing her glasses back up her nose eyes bright with hope. "Okay. Now let's see. . ." Moving over to the desk Noctis started to exam the machine. Jinju got to her feet standing behind him hands reaching to this thick black hair running slender fingers through the hair massaging his temples and scalp. She leaned forward pressing her breasts against his back and neck kissing the top of his head. Noctis squirmed in his seat a little then moved his free hand up to grab at her hand holding it giving it a reassuring squeeze. "So I've never asked and despite it does make it hard to sleep here sometimes, why do you have to have constant music going?" Noctis asked blue eyes meeting those dazzling green eyes of hers. She let out a sigh right next to his ear, it sounded a lot more erotic than it should have. It was getting a bit hard for him to concentrate on finding out how to fix the computer. "I just can't stand the sound of silence like it's just so boring...but also when it's too quiet the negative thoughts come in. I start feeling depressed and think about things I really shouldn't think about. I used to listen to music when I was little to drown out my parents fighting so I could hide away in my own little world and not think about them fighting. And well if it's silent for too long now I just get flashbacks." She admitted her small hands massaging his shoulders. "Really? I didn't know that babe, I'm sorry." Noctis said turning around to face her locking eyes with hers. "It's not like it's your fault. They aren't here anymore shouldn't let it bother me now but I just can't....ugh so stupid of me I know. I probably look more pathetic to you now." "No you don't, love you've never looked pathetic. Look at all you do you work at a successful bakery, write books and help Ignis out a lot. Your are beautiful and who can I swap sarcastic jokes with if not you?" "Thanks babe, I just feel so lame sometimes." "Well you aren't lame. Did you check the wires? Like the ones in the hallway remember Bassy was bouncing around the house like mad this morning." "He was? I don't remember I woke up kinda out of it..." "Well you did drink a lot last night." "Who wanted to try out drunken sex?" She smirked kissing the side of his head. "Oh the phone has enough charge..." She plugged the phone in playing the first song on the playlist, nothing happened. Pouting she unplugged it allowing it to play on the small speakers. 'I love you 1-4-3...🎶.' Came out of the speakers, as Noctis stood up he noticed the pleased and calmed smile that graced her face. "You are so cute." He mused pulling her into a kiss. "Lets check those wires." Taking her by the hand he went to the hallway that was in question. In the hallway stood the black cat, Bassy crouched in the middle looking like a stalking butler glaring at the wall. On the wall high up where the wires were that ran through the house was a small mouse chewing on the wires. One of the two wires were broken and the second was close. "Ah! The culprit is small and fluffy." Jinju exclaimed pointing at the mouse. "Hence the cat and his reaction." Noctis replied looking down at the small cat to the mouse. "What should we do about it?" "Well we're not killing it...let's just shoo it outside." She urged him to go catch it. "It's your music you catch it." He said not wanting to chase after a mouse. "I'll do that thing you like in bed.~" She teased giving him a sultry wink. Noctis blushed and let out a large nervous gulp she was willing to do thatfor catching this mouse? "You are such a sexy pervert." He admonshed as she changed music on her phone. 'I'll let you ride the disco stick.🎶' She smirked at him as he lunged for the mouse catching it first try. "See Noct you got it!" She shouted happily clapping her hands bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Yeah because your ass is the reward." He said with a smirk and headed to the back door. "Hehe, I'll get some electrical tape." She laughed that laugh music to his ears glad she was feeling better already. Ten minutes later the apartment was back to being the normal loud self. Peppy kpop music filled the apartment and the smell of freshly baked snickerdoodle cookies made the place pleasant. Noctis always stays in the kitchen when his girlfriend bakes as she is big on letting him taste test everything and she often breaks out in cute dance moves that he just can't help but love. "So here's a cookie...let's go to the bedroom for that other reward~." She cooed taking him by the collar of the shirt as she placed a cookie in his hands. -Fin-

#fluff #noctis lucis caelum #prince noctis #ff15 #final fantasy 15 fanfic #reader insert #final fantasy xv

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