#during a truth or dare (with alcohol and zone of truth) where she was dared to kiss someone in the party by our warlock

[afictionaladventure16]

My Surrogate Father (Robert Downey Jr. x Teen!Fem!Reader)

Part 1 of 11 

Masterlist

Description: You were a small actress, only doing minor roles for some television shows until you landed a major role alongside the famous Robert Downey Jr. you were playing his onscreen daughter. After all the filming, things at home go downhill, you take a look back to when invited the Downeys invited you over their house for a week in order to get to know you better. During one of the interviews for the press tours, Robert notices something different about you. He won’t let it go until he figures it out.

Warnings: Foul language, child abuse, violence, alcohol abuse

Word Count: 1,716

Italics - flashbacks 

Y/B/N = Your Brothers Name

"The connection that your character, Y/N, had with Roberts character, was absolutely amazing. There was a time while watching the film I had forgotten that you two were just actors, how did you guys build that relationship for these characters? Were there any preparations or was it just all instant?” The interviewer looked at you and Robert. You looked over at Robert who had a smile on his face. This was the last interview of the day for the press tour for your new film.

“Funny you should ask that,” Robert began to say, “for preparation for this film, I had invited y/n to stay with my family and me. Remember that?” Robert asked you. You chuckled slightly, of course, you remembered.

“And would you, Y/N, say that this preparation helped you for the film?”

You gave the interviewer a nod, “actually, it led me to see Robert as not just some actor but a normal father, I got to see him make breakfast for kids, give them advice, things that fathers do and I feel as an actor it’s in the right mindset to just take a step back and get to know your co-stars in a different level, especially when starring in roles that demand so much emotion.”

The interviewer smiled, “that was an amazing look at things, as much as I would love to keep asking these questions I think that’s all the time we have! Thank you guys so much for being here!”

“Thank you for having us,” Robert said as you gave the interviewer a smile. Robert smiled, “Nice answer, kid,” he whispered as he gave you a small side hug.

“It’s the truth,” you stated. You both began to walk out of the room.

“Hey, Susan wanted to know if you wanted to join us for dinner,” You stayed silent for few seconds, you had plans but you loved hanging out at Roberts house, it was your second home, “she’s making her famous lasagna,” Robert proposed.

“As much as I would love to, I actually have plans,” you said quietly.

Robert stopped and stood in front of you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “everything okay at home, y/n?”  he had noticed all day that you had been quiet, it wasn’t like you.

You smiled, “you already know how it is at home,” you sighed, “but really, I have plans.”

Robert had a hard time believing you but he simply gave you a nod, “alright,” he kissed the top of your head in a fatherly way, “call if you need anything, alright?”

You gave him a nod before hearing your driver call your name, “I’ll see you later.” You waved him one last goodbye before walking away.

You walked into your house, hearing the sound of the door closing echo through the house, “anyone home?” you called out as you walked down the hall.

You heard some grumbling as you walked up the stairs, “Mom is that you?” You called out as you made your way to your mother's room, you slowly opened the door.

Your mother laid out on her bed, a couple of empty bottles of liquor next to her, you sighed as you grabbed the empty bottles. “What are you doing?” She snarled.

“Cleaning up,” you stated as you placed the bottles in the trashcan that was placed in her room. Robert really didn’t know what really went on at home, at first he knew your mother began drinking due to your brother's death but after filming the movie, you didn’t see Robert as much. Then the drinking got worse, it wasn’t just drinking either, it was the pills too. She was addicted. You turned to your mother, “get up.”

She rolled her eyes curled more into her covers, “Get up, mom!” you yelled, angry filling your veins. You hated that your mother was never there for you but she always had time to get drunk. “Get up!!” You ripped the covers from her body. You were tired of her just moping around. You just wanted a mother that would hold you and mourn with you, but your mother wouldn’t allow that. She felt as if you didn’t have a right to mourn.

Your mother quickly got up and slapped you across the face, “don’t you dare disrespect me!” she slurred. She walked over to the dresser, grabbing another bottle that she had probably placed there, “after all the shit I fucking do for you, you turn out to be an ungrateful bitch,” she slurred as she took a swig from the bottle. “Just like your father,” she chuckled, “like father like daughter, huh?”

You scoffed, “you didn’t do shit,” you stated. You never spoke back to your mother when she was like this, mostly because you were too afraid.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” You said, “you didn’t do shit! You were never there when I was younger! You didn’t even fucking raise me! Do you see this house? You’re in this fucking house because of me! Because I fucking made a name for myself, all while you didn’t fucking believe me! And look at you now! A fucking drunk, living in the house that her own fifteen-year-old daughter practically bought with her money and you say I’m the ungrateful bitch.”

Your mother glared at you, storming over to you, slapping you once more, this time hard enough to cause you to fall down. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Talking like you are the fucking head of this household!” She leaned down and yelled at your face, “you’re nothing, baby girl! Nothing! Nothing but a worthless piece of shit!” She threw the bottle at the floor next to you, causing it to shatter. The liquid fell onto your clothes, you yelped as the glass broke and cut your skin. The mixture of alcohol and open wounds burned. Your mother wasn’t fazed by this.

She stood and watched as you attempted to take out the shards of glass from your skin, “it should’ve been you,” she said quietly, “you should be the one dead.”

You felt the tears well up in your eyes from the words that came out from your mother's mouth, “It should’ve been you, not y/b/n. Not my baby,” She began to sob at the mention of your older brothers name.

You had enough, you quickly got up from the floor and walked out of your mother's room and into yours. Slamming it shut as you locked it behind you. You had plans. Plans to visit your fathers grave for his birthday and maybe visit your brothers. But plans always change.

You laid in your bed, remembering back to the time you spent at the Downeys house, how you wished you could’ve just stayed forever.

~~

“So, I’ll be staying at their house for a week?” You asked your manager, Jessica, once more as you looked out of the car window.

She sighed, “yes, y/n. A week, he’s very excited to meet you.”

“I would sure hope so,” you whispered, “we’re starring in a movie together after all.”

“Are you sure your mother is fine with this?”

You chuckled, “she probably wouldn’t even notice, after all, she’s out of town with my brother, his football team is in playoffs.”

“Good for him,” Jessica stated. The driver pulled up to a mansion style looking house, it was fairly modern.

“Wow, is that windmill?” you quietly asked, “this is where he lives?”

Jessica chuckled at your reaction, this was your first big movie role, you had only done a few minor roles in some television shows like Supernatural, so you were still getting used to this lifestyle, “Yes, this is where he lives.”

The driver pulled up into the driveway, placing the car in park.

As soon as you got out of the car a little boy and girl came running up to you, the little girl hugged your legs, “are you my new sister?”

You looked over at Jessica with wide eyes, “her what?”

You heard someone laugh, “Exton, Avri, what did I just say?” You looked over to where the voice came from and there he was. Robert Fucking Downey Jr. You tried to remain calm as the little girl you presumed to be Avri let go of your legs.

“Sorry,” she said with a cheeky grin.

You smiled at her, “it’s alright.”

“Mr. Downey,” Jessica said as she walked over to Robert Downey Jr, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He chuckled, “please just call me Robert,” he shook her hand. He looked over at you and smiled, “and you must be Y/N!” You gave him a nod, “it’s so nice to meet you,” he pulled you into a hug. To say you were starstruck was an understatement.

“Well, come on in!” Robert said. You walked over to your bags that the driver had placed on the ground, “oh! I got that!” Robert stated as he took the bag from your hands.

“Thank you,” you smiled.

You followed Jessica and Robert into the house, Jessica was ahead of you talking to Robert about the new movie. You had zoned her out as you looked around the house in awe at the decorations.

“And this is my lovely wife, Susan,” Robert turned around expecting you to be right behind him but noticed that you were down the hall, looking at the wall decorations, “I think I already like this kid,” He whispered to his wife who was smiling at the young girl.

Jessica cleared her throat, catching your attention, you noticed everyone had been staring at you, “Sorry,” you softly said as you ran over to where everyone was.

“It’s perfectly fine,” Robert said with a smile, “this is my wife, Susan.”

You smiled at Susan and shook her hand, “we’re so happy to have you here, y/n. The kids especially!”

“Thank you guys for having me,” you said with a smile.

Jessica sighed as her phone notification went off, she glanced at her phone, groaning slightly, “alright, this is where I leave you, kiddo!” she quickly hugged you, grabbing your shoulders as she let go of the embrace, “don’t do anything stupid,” she warned.

“How can I? You’re taking all of it with you,” you smirked as she rolled her eyes.

“I understood that reference,” Robert said with a small smile.

“Call me if she acts up, she can be a real pain in the arse,” Jessica said playfully. She then said her goodbyes and left you there alone with the Downeys.

Let me know what y’all think! Should I continue this small series? 

Taglist closes May 7th!

#robert downey jr #robert downey jr x reader #robert downey jr imagines #robert downey jr series #robert downey jr x teen #robert downey jr teen reader #robert downey jr teen reader series #robert downey jr teen imagines #robert downey jr x teen!reader #robert downey jr x teen!reader series #iron man #tony stark #robert #downey #jr #tony #stark #reader #iron #man #avengers #avengers fanfiction #avengers actors #tony stark avengers #avengers fan fic #avengers fanfic #avengers imagines #avengers series #robert downey jr family

[teampandawang]

Teach Me How To Love | Part II

By: Mow

Genre: Fluff // Angst // Smut(?

Pairing: Suga X Reader (with surprises along the way)

Description: Is when your comfort zone is in its closest state that you will see the brightest sunlight on the outside. 

The smell of alcohol got to you as soon as you stood in front of the fraternity’s door. The loud voices, the music sending vibrations through the walls, everything made your usual nerves to gulped down your throat. Jessica’s hand gripped yours before going inside, her head immediately searching for the brown-haired guy she came to see as soon as she crossed the entrance with you.

There were too many people in the house, it was almost unnatural that such amount of bodies could occupy the same space. They were most likely pushing each other than dancing, and there was some of them sitting on the floor or different tables because there was no other place. Which was honestly surprising, because that one was the biggest fraternity house of the entire campus.

You kept trying to find and explanation of how in hell were you going to spend the rest of the night in the middle of the crowd, while Jessica kept standing in her tiptoes trying to catch the only reason for you to assist to that uncomfortable place.

“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Said a voice behind you, taking you by surprise knowing that your other friends couldn’t go to the party. “And looking that good.”

You turned around to see the owner of it, preparing yourself mentally to reject someone this early, but the sight of a familiar friendly face gave you a relief feeling.

“Namjoon, hi.” You greeted him with a smile. The smell of vodka hitting you in the face as soon as he opened his mouth to answer.

“You just got here?” He asked dragging his words in the middle of the sentence.

“Yes, but I can see you’ve been having a good time for long now, am I right?” You said waving your hand in front of your face teasing him about his breath.

“Hey! Don’t mock me. I’ll make sure you end up this night just like me.” He said. His hand was halfway to point at your face when it hit someone’s cup. “I’m sorry!” Namjoon yelled, probably louder than he wanted, scaring the poor wet guy.

“You’re clumsier while drunk.” You said half-joking half-worried about some other disaster happening. During your projects together for the investigation program, he had broken so many things that you lost count on the third day of work. “Come on, let’s go somewhere else before you kill someone.”

You turned around to check if Jessica was coming with you, but she wasn’t there anymore, a little girl who looked like she didn’t have a clue of why she was there was the only one who returned your gaze.

“This girl, seriously…” You said almost entirely to yourself in a sigh.

“What are you talking about?” Namjoon asked, walking beside you in the kitchen’s direction.

“My friend, I came here with her, but she disappeared.” You said avoiding the best you could the people crossing ways with you. “Correction, I came here because of her.” You said finally approaching the kitchen’s table, filled with alcohol and snacks.

“And for a minute I thought you came here to see us.” Namjoon said with a pout,  smirking at the sight of you giving him a confused look. “You still don’t like us, do you?” He asked through his smirk, grabbing two cups full of beer and handing one to you.

“I like you.” You said not realizing how that must have sounded before looking the surprised expression on Namjoon’s face. “Not like that, you idiot! I meant I like you as a friend, Hoseok too.” You said rolling your eyes at his laugh. “Don’t you laugh at me!”

“Is just that you’re so red!” The words managed to come out between his drunk laughing. “I’ve never seen you flustered, I was starting to think you were made of stone.” He teased catching his breath again.

“I ain’t made of stone but I’m throwing you one if you keep mocking me.” You gave him the coldest glare you could until you broke down laughing at his sudden nervous face.

“Don’t play with me like that, you’re scary as hell sometimes.” He said taking his hand to his chest playfully. “But hey, being serious, the rest of the guys are great too, I know they may be too… much to handle sometimes, but you still should give them a chance. At least like that Hoseok and I might get to spend more time with the fun you and not with nerdy you.”

“Nerdy me is great and you can’t deny that, Joon. Not you being a nerd as well.” You said smiling at him. “But I don’t know about them…”

Namjoon had been wanting you to meet the rest of his group of friends for a while. You had spent really great times with him and Hoseok but every time they invited you to something, and at least one of the others was going to be there, you immediately declined their offer, and they weren’t oblivious of the reason. But before he could keep on his convincing, Jessica showed up, taking both yours and his hand, dragging you somewhere.

“Where are we going?” Joon said, trying to keep the pace with the alcohol blurring his senses.

“We are playing Truth or Dare and you’re gonna play with us!” She let out on a jump of excitement.

“There’s no way I’m playing that!” You said suddenly stopping and almost making Namjoon tripped with his own feet.

“Yes, you are!” They both said at unison. Ignoring the rest of your complaints they almost carried you to the circle of people in the living room, making you sit between them on the couch, or most likely, sit on one another because of how pressed you were against them in the small free space.

The game started but there were so many playing that it was going to be hard for the bottle to point at you, or so you innocently thought before the damn bottle faced, out of all people, clearly you. You avoided perfectly the first turn with Truth to a not very personal question, the following got more difficult, making you at the end having to pick Dare. It didn’t go as bad as you thought, but the cup full of vodka they made you drink for the dare hit you hard. The world was starting to feel dizzy before you realized the mouth of the bottle right in front of you.

“Fuck, not again.” You said taking your hand to your forehead, finding it hard to stay focus.

“It seems like this is Y/N’s game! What’d you pick now, gorgeous?” Jimin’s voice said from across the circle, his drunk eyes and flirty smirk directly at you, but you were too dizzy yourself to care if it was him or anyone else.

“Dare.” You said feeling unusual confidence all of a sudden, probably because of the amount of alcohol you had drunk already. ‘What else can they say for me to do?’ You asked yourself, thinking maybe it was going to be another cup of something.

“I dare you...” Jimin began looking at everyone in the circle, searching for something. “I dare you to kiss Suga.” He said smirking and winking at the black-haired boy who was sitting close to your spot. “And I said kiss, not peck, so let us see that tongue.”

The large group of people started laughing and whistling, making a few comments you couldn't catch. Your eyes were stuck on Suga’s, trying to find in them the excuse to not do what Jimin said, but they were empty black, they told you nothing. You thought your heart could be heard by everyone in the room, it beat so hard that the voices, thirsty of action, were now mud.

“Fine.” Your voice said. You didn't know from where did that confidence come, but it was there and you had already talked. ‘Don't be stupid, is just a kiss’ said that same voice in your head.

You stood up from the couch, making your way as fine as you could to the guy’s direction, lowering your height to be in front of Suga’s face. He didn't even blink, he stayed there, sitting comfortably in his chair while you approached him. In some way that made it easier. You looked at him one last time, trying to catch at least one glance of something from him, but the same emptiness was all you could see, which surprised you was that he was really beautiful, his skin looked as soft as the cotton, and the extremely white color of it was stunning. ‘Maybe this is why everyone calls him Suga.’ you thought.

“Are you gonna do it or what?” Suga whispered with an annoyed expression.

You didn't realize you were staring at him, right in front of everybody’s eyes you had lost yourself in his face.

Finally, you pressed your lips against his, praying that the rest of the people didn't notice your small lapses, but they would probably forget it tomorrow. You could tell you caught him by surprise because it took him a few seconds to respond to the kiss, and just like you had been told, you pushed your tongue against his lips, getting access immediately into his mouth. The urge of catching his neck with your hands to deepen more the kiss was eating you, but you managed to didn't move one finger.

“Get a room!” Someone yelled, making you break the kiss and take a few steps back.

“You wanted a real kiss, didn't you?” You asked as neutral as you could, trying to hide the need for air from your voice.

“I should have dared you to kiss me.” Jimin said biting his lower lip.

You took a sit again without any other word. The sensation of the kiss remaining on your lips. The feeling you got from his eyes didn't match the one you got from his lips but deciding it wasn't something worth it to think about, you drank another cup of vodka and washed the feeling away. For your luck, or at least the one left, the bottle didn't point at you the rest of the night. 

#teach me how to love #suga x reader #bts x reader #bts #kpop #team panda wang #team panda #bts series #kpop series #bts imagines #kpop imagines #suga series #suga scenario #bts scenario #kpop scenarios #min yoongi #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #park jimin #jeon jungkook #Jung HoSeok #bts social media au

[nightwingwhatdidisay]

“Jason and the Words That Burn”

Summary: jaykori/dickkory, AU where Jason Todd is a thief with an ear for poetry. 

ff.net ao3

...

...

Chapter 1: The Words of King [Chapter Summary: Jason runs into Kory after a drunken bender]

...

...

I never pointed out to her the irony of breaking up with me for being a thief, when it was something I stole that won her heart in the first place.

A poem, of all things.

It’s funny how poetry is the most embarrassing thing in the world, until it has the power to pry your sleepy eyes open in the middle of an American Literature class, all because your professor recited a configuration of words you didn’t know existed.

But by the time I finally sat up to listen, the professor was speaking farther and farther away from the poem, and I couldn’t recall any of the words I had just heard. Only the way they made me feel.

Whatever he said, it forced me to look at her.

She was sitting a few rows down in a seat that hugged the left wall of the classroom, leaning her head against the window. It was an 8am class and the sun was just beginning to pour in, its light spilling wildly through her auburn hair like fire.

Now I’m not an idiot; I knew Kory Anders was way out of my league. But that’s the power of a pretty girl way out of your league, she can have you in the campus library at 11pm flipping through a whole damn book, trying your luck anyway. When I found the words that clicked, I tore the whole page out, jammed it into my pocket, and left.

The next morning, I watched from my seat, hood pulled over and face propped in my hand, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, but failing to stop the furious bounce in my leg. She rushed in a few minutes late, wringing the rain out of her hair and sliding into her usual seat, surprised to see something waiting for her.

I’d Sharpied everything out except for those twelve words, and from where I was sitting, I could only see thick bars of black on the paper. I remember watching her pick it up, and suddenly thinking what a shitty idea it was. As far as plans for picking up girls went, this plan wasn’t just plain terrible, it was fancy terrible; it was terrible with raisins in it. I lost the rhythm of normal breathing, mortified with the realization that I’d actually written my name on it.

And just like that, the curl of her lips hit me right in the gut, and I swear I was seeing stars.

... ...

I remember the first time I kissed her, I stole that too.

It was during a time when I thought a quick kiss in the dark from a stranger at a college party was as close as I was ever going to get to a sun like her. I thought I was dreaming when she grabbed ahold of my jacket as I was pulling back, drawing me to her for more.

Starfire. My pet name for her. I’d wait outside until her classes ended and call out to her, loving the way she’d wrinkle her nose at the name. I liked to whisper it into her ear at the worst moments, like in the cinema, waiting for a change of scene to illuminate her face so I could see the flush in her cheeks. It’s the name that spilled out of my mouth—along with a string of dark words—whenever she’d spend a night at my place and the writhing of her body under me left me with no self-control.

I dated Kory with the uneasy feeling that it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. There was no way the universe would let me have someone like her for long. I stole that time anyway.

But Kory Anders was a criminal justice major, and the boss hated that the most. It’s just a matter of time, he assured me. Just because she’s climbing up your leg now doesn’t mean she'll stay when she gets wise about the job.

He was right, of course. She didn’t stay long when she found out the truth. But by the time it was over, love had already infected the bones.

I don’t know. I’m drunk.

... ...

I slide the empty bottle back at the bartender and drop the cash on the counter, grabbing my pack and leaving with a wave of my finger. I can’t stay long; the cash—40k in clean stacks—burns through my bag and all I want to do is throw it in the safe at my place until the boss and his men pick it up in the morning.

I figure I’ll sober up after a good shower, and I’m relying on muscle memory to get me back home. By the time I fall out of the elevator in my building, I argue sleeping in the hall for a second, until I worm my way to my door and jam the key into the doorknob repeatedly until finding the hole.

My jeans and shirt are off without a thought and I’m yanking the fridge door open, squinting through the light to see what could help me with my drunchies. I don’t even recall buying lasagna, but I don’t think too hard on it as I inhale the whole thing in seconds.

By the time I drag my body to the bathroom, I’m stark naked, and I let the shower run hot until I pull myself in, wincing a bit when it hits a fresh wound I’d earned from tonight’s heist.

A memory opens: me piling suds on top of Kory’s head while she runs her fingers over my body.

“Where’d you get this one?” She asks, thumbing at a fibrous scar on my shoulder.

“Motorcycle accident,” I lie, as I sculpt cat ears out of the bubbles.

“And this?” She’s pointing at my chest: clean white lines the boss rewarded me with for being stupid on a job.

“Boy scout dare,” I say dismissively. When my masterpiece is done, I bend down to kiss her forehead.

“What do I look like?” She asks.

I step as far back as the shower will allow me so I can marvel at her, grateful that I get to be the guy who sees this brilliant girl naked, wet, and in cat ears. “Like a kitten, Kitten.”

And suddenly I’m on my knees for her, pulling her leg over my shoulder and letting the numbers on my water bill rise.

Holy shit.

It’s the scent of the shampoo that sobers me right up. I look around in horror: epsom salts, bath bombs, bottles and jars of girl potions in an array of feminine colors that make me want to vomit at the realization. I rip the curtains aside and hurl my body out of the shower. In a panic, I’m pulling my boxers on and rushing out of Kory’s bathroom.

But God is dead, my friends. I hear mumbling out in the hall and the doorknob starts to wiggle before I can reach my shirt. A line of light cracks open as two figures enter and I dive wildly into a nearby closet of her hallway.

“Hm. I thought I locked this,” Kory says absently, and I hear the door shut.

“You think someone got in?” Asks a vaguely familiar voice. “Let me look around for you.”

“What a gallant way to get yourself into my bedroom,” Kory commends with a laugh.

“I can get you a better place in my building, Anders,” says the voice, not giving into her tease. “Something about you living here rubs me the wrong way.”

“And me living in your building will rub you the right way?” Her voice is playful. The other voice stammers and she’s laughing again. “Relax, handsome. I’m just a forgetful girl. Let me put on some music.”

An Elvis Costello song begins to play as their exchange ends and the whole thing makes me bitter, because (1) I hate the way Kory is comfortably Kory no matter what guy she’s with and (2) I fucking introduced her to Costello.

Insert kissing scene here, I imagine, as the room goes silent for a while and there’s the soft sound of fumbling and small giggles escaping Kory’s mouth.

“Anders… the essay.”

“Mm? Oh sorry,” Kory says, and I see her figure pass by. She returns with an open laptop balancing on her bicep as she taps her password in. “I’m having a problem with these three paragraphs, and as far as citations go, I’m completely lost.”

I hear the dip of the couch and the clacking of keyboards, and suddenly they’re both in their own collegiate zone when I begin to think: I’m naked in a closet, with my clothes scattered in various rooms of my ex girlfriend’s apartment; I have a backpack of stolen cash in the same room as two criminal justice majors; and in the kitchen lay my jeans, its pockets holding an unsilenced phone that can go off any minute, a wallet with all my IDs, and a Glock 17.

I’m in the middle of contemplating how truly fucked I am when I hear the guy’s voice. “Damn, I forgot a laptop charger.”

“I think I have an extra one. Sit tight.”

I don’t have much choice when Kory opens the closet door and sees me. So I pull her in and slap a hand over her mouth. “Keep quiet, cutie—oof.” I receive a knee to the baby-maker and it takes everything within me to keep from keeling over. I watch the recognition hit her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” She asks when I drop my hand.

“Accident. I swear.”

She eyes me with suspicion, but accepts the answer, and I begin to wonder how badly I must reek of alcohol for her to believe me.

“I’m fine,” I say, looking away. It comes out defensive.

“You’re naked...” she points out mildly. “And wet.”

I shrug. “Made it to the shower.”

The look she gives me is a mixture of anger, wonder, and pity.

“Listen,” I say, suddenly irritated. “I don’t wanna ruin your cute little study date here. Just help me get my shit together and I’m out.”

“I want my key back.”

“Fine.”

A voice calls from the living room. “Anders? Charger? My laptop’s living on a prayer.”

Kory gives me a look and pulls a white cord from a shoebox on the overhead shelf and steps out of the closet. “There’s an outlet behind the couch,” she tells him. “Let’s move it aside so you can plug in.” She says this loudly and slowly and I recognize my cue. I hear the sound of the couch sliding over carpet and—like a college girl in a co-ed dorm who forgot her towel after a shower—I run.

I slide into the kitchen and I see that my jeans are inside-out in front of the fridge, and I fish for the balled-up sock in each leg before slipping them on. My phone is still tucked in my back pocket, and I quickly switch it to silent mode before it becomes any type of inconvenience. I give myself a pat down and freeze at the realization that my gun isn’t in my pockets.

Fuck.

Kory appears down the hall, looking into the closet and discovering I’m no longer there. When she turns and sees me in the kitchen, she lifts up a shirt in her hand and raises her eyebrows, simultaneously saying Is this yours? and Are you serious?

When she steps into the kitchen, I snatch the shirt from her and shrug it on.

“Where are your shoes?” She asks.

“I have no clue,” I answer honestly.

Kory throws a sharp expression over her shoulder and walks back into the living room.

And just like that, my phone flashes a notification: Change of plans. Picking up stash tonight.

Shit.

I’m in the middle of typing up an excuse that I think will hold when I hear Kory’s voice. “I don’t know if my works cited page is in MLA format.”

“Well I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

I glance at a butter knife on the counter and imagine harakiri-ing myself with it. But something catches my eye: a piece of paper tacked onto the refrigerator with a magnet. I move to touch it, gaping in disbelief, when I hear Kory’s voice again.

“D-dick.”

My blood chills at the name as I fly to the edge of the kitchen entrance and peer into the living room. Kory’s pinned to the floor with her dress hiked up to her hip, running her hands through black hair as he licks my girl’s neck. I see her tremble in pleasure and all of a sudden I’m down for a good throat punching.

“Dick, let me get us some wine,” she says, then shivers.

“Don’t need it,” he mumbles, as he runs a trail of kisses down her chest. But she slides herself gracefully out from under him and brings his lips to hers. “Two minutes,” she whispers into him. “Promise."

They end up making out for a little longer and I pry myself away from the sight, grabbing the wine glasses from the top shelf and pacing wildly back and forth. She enters the kitchen, a little flushed, pulling her dress back down. “I’ve moved your shoes to the door. Get ready to go.”

“Grayson?” I say, almost spitting out the name as I place the glasses in her hands. “You’re hooking up with Dick Grayson?”

“It’s truly none of your business.”

I open the fridge door for her and she ducks for the wine. “He’s a prick, Kory. He’s Daddy’s Money. He’s the type of guy who can pay his way through the system if he hits a kid with his Lambo under the influence. Wealthy people like Grayson think they're above the law.”

“You’re a thief. Do you happen to see the pot and the kettle in that?” She asks as she grabs the bottle, but her eyes widen in shock, and she pulls out my gun from the fridge. Kory looks back at me incredulously and I immediately take it from her.

“At least I work for my stash,” I mumble sheepishly and tuck the gun in my jeans. Kory orders for the bottle opener. Without looking, I pull at a drawer and gesture for her to hand me the bottle.

“He’s a criminal justice major too,” she defends, as I twist through the cork. “Top of the class, volunteers on the weekends, networks of friends—”

“Well I’ve never been a billionaire before, but I bet I’d be good at it too.”

“No, instead you move through life with a gun in one hand and the orders from your boss in the other.” The cork shoots off into nowhere with a clean pop and she holds out the glasses for me to fill.

“So that’s what happened between us?” I mutter, as I pour. “Dating a bad guy is conveniently checked off your college-girl bucket list without you having to be aware for most of it. And now it's time for Boy Wonder, who walks around campus with his Father’s money and a huge—”

“Dick,” Kory calls out to the living room. “Switch the music for me, will you, handsome?”

“...ego,” I finish, staring at her balefully. The song changes, and the smile Kory is giving me is smug.

And see, that’s the thing that undoes it: a look between us that goes on a little too long. Long enough for my nerves to unsteel themselves and her stare to soften. And suddenly all I can think of is that poem I stole from the library that one night, and the way the morning spilled through her hair as she leaned against the window. All those nights and showers and words that happened between us before the rough hands of my job pulled me away from her.

“Starfire,” I hear myself say.

Kory bristles. “That’s not fair.”

January embers.

I take the wine glasses from her hands and set them aside before lifting her up onto the kitchen counter.

“That’s not fair,” she says again, and I’m kissing her.

Elvis Costello sings from the living room about how the sun may rise and burn through yellow skies, and I trace my fingers over her jaw and revel in the way she kisses back into me. “I begged you to quit,” she says with a breath as her hand finds the back of my neck.

“Can’t, cutie. Turn around.”

But suddenly Wonder Boy cuts through with a, “Kory? Do you need some help in the kitchen?”

Kory rips herself out of the moment and pushes herself back onto the floor, shaking her hands in panic.

“I’ve had a few punch-ups with Grayson before, I’d be happy to do it again,” I say through my teeth, the adrenaline from finally kissing her again pulsing through me.

“Get out,” Kory says instead.

I look at her, and suddenly I hear footsteps heading toward us.

“Anders?”

Kory runs back into the living room, and from where I’m standing, I see her barrel into him, smashing her mouth into his. “Bed,” she orders.

Grayson is chuckling through the kisses. “What happened to the wine? What about the paper?”

“Bed,” she answers, a pleading in her voice. And Grayson graciously responds by picking her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. I watch breathlessly as she moves her mouth to his neck, glaring at me over his shoulder and cocking her head to the door.

When the bedroom door closes, I pick up my heart off the kitchen floor, grab my bag and shoes, and leave.

… …

Kory makes a point to come to class early so she can get the key from me. She inspects it, and I’m offended that she thinks I’m stupid or desperate enough to give her a fake.

“How do I know you didn’t make copies?”

I snort. “I’d rather die than watch Grayson rub his billion-dollar boner on you ever again.”

When class starts and the professor begins to talk about literature of the Harlem Renaissance, I pull out a piece of paper from my pocket and unfold it, looking at the blackened out lines and the twelve words that started everything.

Kory had it hanging on her fridge, and I had to steal it back, a poetic justice type of deal.

... ...

“Your hair is winter fire January embers My heart burns there, too.”

― S. King

...

...

Chapter 2: The Words of Thoreau 

Summary: He's in a year-long spiral to rock bottom and Jason pretends he's loving the journey. Because at least it's a direction.

#Jason Todd #Red Hood #Red Hood and the Outlaws #Red X #Starfire #Koriand'r #Teen Titans #JayKori #Dickkory #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #robstar

[its-me-screeching]

Phantoms - Chapter 8: Lifeline

I spent every Christmas since I was only ten years old at Elsa's place.

Why not? Christmas with my family was nothing special. I had a few uncles and cousins I never interacted much with, but on the rare occasions they came by during the holidays, they only made me feel inferior and worthless. My brothers couldn't even keep quiet for a nanosecond, and my mother's holiday evenings consisted of glaring at me as I failed to show interest in the dish she'd cooked up; usually canned food, microwaved (Gordon Ramsay wouldn't approve), which didn't taste like anything… at all. I always hoped my father would say something about it, help me in trying to make my mother see how shitty her Christmas dinners were, but he never said a word. Sometimes I wondered if he still cared about anything at all.

Either way, spending the Christmas days at Elsa's place was far superior to staying home. Elsa liked having me around, and so did Anna, I hope, and their parents weren't there anyway. Even during the holidays, Mr. Arens and his wife still found a way to work. They rather enjoyed their jobs, I guess, or they were too afraid to face their daughters and deal with the consequences of their absence.

I suppose I should thank them for never being there, fucked up as that may be. I was more than happy to celebrate Christmas at the Arens' house, to fill the silence Elsa's parents left behind. I loved spending the holidays there; though the house was big and empty, its dark corners were easily lit up by candles, and Anna enjoyed putting effort into a Christmas dinner we'd enjoy, serving us with a big smile. She had more money for proper ingredients and more time to use them, so the food would have actual taste and I wasn't tempted to throw it all back up, like at home.

And yet, even though we'd have the time of our lives, I couldn't help but feel like a burden as the years passed. It felt wrong to spend so much time at Elsa's place, especially since she never came over to mine; I didn't like being home and my mother would sigh and roll her eyes if I brought friends over, so there wasn't much to show.

Truth be told, I might've been too ashamed of it all to even consider inviting Elsa over. It seemed we had opposite problems: she had everything she could want except for her shitty parents, while I had my shitty parents and very little else.

Nevertheless, it was all quite unfair, me always hanging out at her place. The Arens' house felt more like home than my own place ever did, and despite neither Elsa nor Anna minding my near-constant presence, I began to feel like I was an intruder, taking advantage of their generosity. I'd never cared much about that and I didn't know where it came from, because Elsa never said a word, but my insecurity and uneasiness began to grow over the years. I'd find myself sitting on a couch too fancy for me, in a house bigger than I could ever hope to have, and all I could think was: 'you don't belong here'.

I didn't dare tell Elsa about all of that emotional baggage; she'd tell me I was being ridiculous, that I wasn't a burden in the slightest, that I'd always be welcome to stay. And while a part of me was desperate to hear her say those words, I didn't deserve them, and they wouldn't ease my mind as much as I wanted them to. So I kept my mouth shut and ate food to good for me by the light of lamps that were never mine.

The Christmas in the memory I regained was different from all others before it. Too different. I didn't spend the night before Christmas at home, and I didn't spend it at Elsa's either. No, I spent it at a Christmas party I'd been invited to by a classmate.

It seemed ideal at first. If I went there, I wouldn't have to listen to the nagging voice in my head telling me I shouldn't always be hanging out at Elsa's place. I would do something on my own for once, see something new, step out of my comfort zone. Sure, maybe I loved spending the holidays with Elsa and her sister, but I couldn't be selfish all the time, not when my hosts were textbook definitions of selflessness. I thought it was time to get a taste of something else for a change, for their sake.

When I told Elsa about my plan to go to our classmate's party, she just smiled and nodded and asked me if I would still visit on Christmas day. Yeah, sure, of course I would. Still got her and Anna a present and all that mess. If she had any problems at all with my absence, she didn't show it. There wasn't the slightest hint of accusation or hurt in her voice and her eyes remained as cryptic as ever; cold and warm at the same time, secrets hidden behind irises made of ice. All of that only strengthened the idea that I was doing a good thing by staying away for a bit.

So on the night before Christmas, I walked all the way to the other side of town, to my classmate's home. I was hungry and cold, the snow on the sidewalks soaking through my worn-down shoes, but I didn't have much of a choice. I'd spent all of my money on Christmas presents: a book for Elsa, fancy chocolates for Anna, some toys for my brothers and an electric razor for my father, so he could finally shave his dirty beard properly for once. Even though I hadn't bothered to buy my mother anything, unable to see why I should give her a gift for always arguing with me, I still didn't have any money left to take a bus. I could've asked Elsa to give me a ride, of course, but that would mean depending on her again, which was exactly what I'd been trying to avoid.

No, I'd get to the party all by myself, even if it meant walking a few miles through a biting cold. When I arrived at my classmate's house, I felt half-frozen, so out of it I had a hard time registering the Christmas Classics Dubstep remix someone had decided to blast through the speakers at a volume so loud it was absurd. When the party's host, Jack, opened the door for me, he almost pulled me inside so he could close the door fast and block out the cold. "There are drinks on the table in the corner," was all he told me as I got rid of my winter coat. "Oughta warm you up. You look like you need it."

Seemed as good an idea as any. I walked further into reckless teenage christmas festivities, followed the scent of alcohol, and did exactly as he advised. Poured myself a glass of vodka strong enough to knock a small animal out, ignoring the biting taste of the alcohol. Warmed me up just right.

But later that night, I ended up feeling colder than ever.

It was around midnight and there could've been stars if the clouds hadn't been in the way. Well, I did see stars, if I allowed my eyes to lose focus and grow as hazy as my mind. When I looked up, I saw clouds as black as the night in sharp contrast with the snowflakes drifting down. It was good snow, solid flakes, the kind you could use to make a snowman. I found myself sitting in the snow on a sidewalk in a street I didn't know, my back against a streetlamp that flickered in the night, looking up at the sky as the occasional car passed by. The snowfall was starting to get heavier and there would be a snowstorm coming on soon; everyone was eager to get home. Everyone but me.

I couldn't bring myself to move. I was smiling. Why the hell was I smiling? Even though I was more drunk than I'd ever been before, I couldn't find a reason. If I stayed seated on the cold hard ground long enough, would my back freeze to the streetlight? Wouldn't that be funny? My drunk hands created a half-hearted snowball, and I watched it crumble away, snow slipping through my fingers like sand in an hourglass. And I was still smiling, with no clue as to what was so funny.

I felt so fucking cold. I don't remember exactly how long I sat there in the snow, turning more and more into a popsicle with each passing minute; in fact, the memory had always been foggy, only growing clear after I understood all that had happened on that fateful night better. My eardrums must've been frozen, because I didn't hear the soft crunch of footsteps in the snow, slowing down in front of me.

"I hope you weren't planning on staying there all night. You'll freeze to death if you do." The voice was gentle and there wasn't a sign of accusation, only concern. I knew that voice as well as my own, and I loved its sound more.

"Will I?" I asked, my words slurred. So obviously drunk. It was pathetic. I managed to tear my eyes away from the sky to look my lifeline in the eyes.

"Yes," Elsa said, "I'm pretty sure that's what happens when you stay outside with a snowstorm coming."

I laughed, with a little more reason now, though the dry remark shouldn't have been funny. It was messed up.

"You're not supposed to be here," I urged myself to say, voice barely louder than a whisper. Somewhere in the chaos of my mind, I remembered my promise to myself to leave Elsa alone tonight. My inability to keep it made me hate myself a little more.

"Guess I am," Elsa replied, kneeling down in front of me so our faces were at the same level. "You texted me, remember? You said you needed a ride home."

A part of me wanted to slap myself for doing the exact thing I said I wouldn't do. Another part told me I'd made the right decision; I definitely wouldn't be able to find my way home and if my own stupidity got me hospitalised, Elsa would murder me. If bringing me home would mean I'd get home safe, she'd be happy to sacrifice her night.

I muttered some curses under my breath. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Elsa stood up and held out her hand. "You're only a few blocks away from my house, so it wasn't hard to find you. Besides, Anna fell asleep halfway through A Christmas Carol." She smiled. "I believe she doesn't think Patrick Stewart makes a convincing Scrooge."

I really wasn't in a state to remember which actor starred in which movie, so I stayed quiet, took her hand and let her pull me to my feet. I felt a little shaky and weak, standing after staying in the same position for so long, and my skin was so cold it gave even Elsa shivers. I could only stare at the crisp white snow beneath my feet.

"Just lean on me if you need to," my friend said, and I reached the passenger's seat of her car with little help. Elsa had a car and a license while I didn't, so I'd been in that car quite a few times, but that night it felt different. That night it felt colder.

Elsa started the car and drove away through the snow, turning the windshield wipers on so she could see the road. I sat back into my seat and closed my eyes for a bit, trying to keep the nausea I'd begun to feel at bay. Elsa remained silent, realizing I didn't have many intelligent things to say at the moment.

"We're not going to your place," I said after a while. We were driving through streets that weren't near Elsa's house and even I could see it through my drunken delirium.

Elsa shook her head. "I'm bringing you home."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't want to go."

"Mer, you were freezing to death in the snow. It's better if you spend your night at home. With your family."

"They can't care about what they don't know. You're not going to tell them, are you?"

"No." A pause. "It's just better if you go home right now. You know, get some sleep and lose the hangover? You'll feel better in the morning."

Elsa wanted to bring me home because it was the only right thing to do. She didn't actually say so, but I knew that was the reason because I knew her so well. Maybe I couldn't read those icy eyes or the thoughts she didn't want anyone to see, but I could read every other tiny, insignificant action: the slight twitch of her mouth, the tapping on her steering wheel, the very controlled way in which she navigated her car through the oncoming storm.

Elsa never did anything she wasn't supposed to do, the only exception being the Nepenthe incident months ago. Aside from that awful slip-up, she kept up a careful wall of unfeeling perfection and control. Not because she wanted to, but she never hated it either, even if she told herself she did. Deep down, Elsa did the right thing because it was what she liked doing, because it made her feel a little better to know she did the best she could do. That night, the right thing to do was making sure I got home safe and sound.

I hated it. And yet I couldn't bring myself to hate her for it. I sank back further into my seat and sighed. We were very different people, Elsa and I. I didn't care much for doing the right thing. In fact, I often found pleasure in doing the wrong thing. It was me who got into fights far too easily, it was me who got drunk at a party and almost froze out in the cold. It was me who broke Hans Westerguard's wrist years before that, and though he deserved it, it hadn't been the right thing. The right thing would've been talking, diplomacy, reporting him to the authorities. What Elsa could've done.

But I didn't work like that. I broke the guy's wrist without batting an eyelash and I could've beat him bloody without a single thought of remorse. Did it matter if he deserved it? While my main motivation at that moment had been protecting Elsa, a part of me did what I did because it had been the wrong thing, and I fucking loved the wrong thing. There was nothing profound about it. Doing the wrong thing put me in a spotlight, drew all eyes to me, and even though it was negative attention, it was attention all the same. It enticed and repulsed me, and I'd have gotten addicted to it a long time ago if Elsa hadn't been there to rein me in when I needed her to. Because Elsa did the right thing.

We stopped in front of my house, tires screeching in the snow. Elsa turned the engine off and the car's life disappeared, leaving emptiness around me. I felt cold again, colder than I'd ever been before. I knew it was time for me to leave, to go home, but all I wanted was to stay in that car forever.

"I really don't want to go," I mumbled, trying to bury myself in the passenger's seat even more.

Elsa clicked her tongue and leaned on the steering wheel in front of her. "I've got all the time in the world, Mer. Sit there as long as long as you like and I'll stay here all night. But I'm not driving back before you're home, no matter what you do."

"Hm." An idea began to form in my messy brain, an idea that was either the best or the worst I'd ever had depending on the outcome. Under normal circumstances, I'd never have considered it. My drunken state was messing with my rationality, and Elsa was looking at me with that look she got when she was trying to convey that negotiating the issue wasn't an option. That look could be terrifying if her heart was into it, but I knew she didn't like being this harsh with me and the look turned into something I could only describe as adorable. It switched to a look of mild surprise as I leaned closer to her, but I don't remember how she looked when I pressed our lips together.

I'd wanted to kiss her for a few years now, but I'd never wanted to risk ruining our friendship. I loved Elsa more than anyone, and if I could only keep her close by being friends and nothing more, I would've done so. While I liked doing the wrong thing, it had never before crossed my mind to do anything that wasn't right with Elsa. That little bit of sanity I still clung to that night was already scolding me for being such a damn idiot, because it was so wrong, and yet it all felt strangely right.

Once again, I couldn't tell what Elsa felt. I did, however, remember how I myself felt when she didn't kiss me back. The ecstacy died away, replaced itself with a pang of disappointment mixed with a little bit of heartache.

When I pulled myself away, Elsa placed her hands on my shoulders and pushed me away very slowly, but the movement remained gentle, her fingers digging into my coat. I could only blink a few times, trying to process everything that happened.

"Mer," Elsa said, voice compassionate with the slightest hint of sadness. "You're still not driving home with me. I mean it."

I wanted the passenger's seat to absorb me, so I could disappear forever. I crossed my arms with a pout. "You don't love me," I slurred. From the way I said it, you wouldn't guess I was almost eighteen. It sounded childish, even to my own drunk ears.

"Don't say that. You know it's not true." Her expression softened and she pushed a few curls out of my face, with little effect. She'd described my hair as fire once. I loved it when she did that; it suited me well. But at the same time I hated it, because Elsa was ice, and when ice touches fire, it melts away and disappears forever. "It's just… you should be sober."

"You'd… kiss me if I was… sober?"

Elsa smiled at me. "Tomorrow's Christmas day. You're visiting, right?"

I nodded weakly, happy to finally find something familiar in this peculiar night.

"I got you a really nice present this year. Might be you're going to want to kiss me again when you find out what it is. Actually, I'm pretty sure of that."

I sat there staring at her, nodding along and processing, allowing my happiness to return to me while she kept talking with that soothing voice. I'd already heard everything I'd wanted to hear. Elsa loved me. She wanted to kiss me, but I had to be sober. Well, I'd be sober tomorrow, and I'd stay sober forever if it meant I could kiss her.

"So if you go home now, I'll let you try again tomorrow. Okay?" She finally let go of me, but not before planting a single kiss on my cheek that made me feel all warm and fuzzy.

I laughed a broken laugh. "Why do you always need to do what's best for me? It's stupid." Always doing the right thing. I hated it, but I loved it too.

"Because you're worth it." She sighed. "But I do hope you're going to get out soon. As much as I like sitting here with you exchanging love confessions and stuff, I'll be sleeping all the way through Christmas day if we stay much longer."

I understood the hint and opened the car door, cold wind cutting into my skin. I shivered and rubbed my arms, longing for a fading warmth. The snow that had gathered in my hair had melted, only to be replaced by new flakes now. It was cold, so cold in that storm, and all of a sudden a terrible feeling crept up along with the chills on my spine.

I considered asking Elsa if she wanted to stay the night. It didn't mean anything with it; it was so she wouldn't have to drive home through the storm. We could wait until the weather calmed and go to her house in the morning. But I already knew what her answer would be. Anna was still home alone, Elsa would say, and if her younger sister woke up to find her gone without a word, she would get worried, especially with a snowstorm raging outside.

"Elsa?" I asked. I had to know before I could close the door.

"Yeah?"

"You'll drive safe, right?" I didn't like this storm, with its biting frost and cruel cold. A white Christmas could be beautiful, but it could be treacherous too.

Elsa's reply sounded almost offended. "I don't see why you're asking. Of course I will."

I shoved my hands into my pockets. "Please. Promise me."

She sighed, as if she thought I was overreacting. "Fine. I promise." The same words I'd said to her after breaking Hans' wrist. The same words that haunted my nightmares.

I knew Elsa wasn't one for breaking promises, so I believed her immediately. I nodded in approval, a tiny smile forming on my face. "See you tomorrow."

"Can't wait."

And I closed the door and watched her drive away, frozen in place like a fool. I watched the snow fall for a while after that, swirling in the wind, the colour white all around me, and I shivered, not for the first time that night.

It was so fucking cold.

I went inside, into a dark living room, grateful I wouldn't need to deal with a scolding from my mother. Took the stairs, stepped into my room and fell asleep, still feeling uncomfortably cold. And when I woke up in the morning, I remembered everything worth remembering about the night before, and decided I'd have a good day today.

It was my father who told me. My mother was still in bed, taking advantage of the holidays to get the extra sleep she needed, and my brothers were playing with their presents under our tiny Christmas tree. I found my father sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through the site of the local newspaper on his laptop, rubbing his prosthetic leg with a glassy look in his eyes. He motioned for me to take a seat because he wanted to ask slash tell me something, and I refused, because I was going someplace and he could very well tell me while I stood.

I didn't quite understand what he was telling me at first. So maybe there had been an unfortunate car accident last night, due to the storm and icy roads. So maybe there hadn't been any survivors. Okay. Fine. What did that have to do with me?

The article listed the victims' names. Three people dead. There were pictures, too, and I recognized the license plate of the wrecked car that had been fine earlier that night. I knew because I'd been sitting in it too.

So I took my father up on his offer and sat down at the kitchen table, surrounded by the shattered pieces of a broken promise, cursing all of my memories.

#merelsa #elsida #merilsa #merida x elsa #elsa x merida #merida #elsa #brave #frozen #fanfic #femslash #phantoms

[impivus]

very rushed very shit intro comin @ you all but here goes nothing ! i’m felix from the gmt tmz, i use he / him pronouns, and im gonna power nap any minute now because one thing you should know about me is that i’m eternally on the verge of passing out from minimum exertions during the day. this is my pain in the ass eunsu: not even going to sugar coat it - he’s the human personification of a headache dumpster fire all in one beefy package and i really don’t even blame your character if they just . ignore his presence because, me too !

under the cut there’s some information about him if you want to get to know more about him regardless. smash that mf heart if you want to plot.. and i will get to you ? sometime ? its an ambiguous promise but i keep them, discord is also an option so just ask if you’d prefer to plot on there. eun’s about is here but no plots as of yet because life is hard and We Cant all Have Everything 

aka im lazy 

* ☾ ✧ * º ━━ is that KIM JONGIN walking about ? nope ! that’s just EUN SU CHO. & i’ve been told that they work as a INFORMATION BROKER ! apparently, they are TWENTY FIVE ( 204 )  years old .  some people say they are a CISMALE, DEMON ! HE is very CULTIVATED & INTUATIVE but also DECIETFUL &  MENACING. i wonder if they are just as odd as the rest of us .  ⇢  SYNOPSIS. MBTI TYPE  /  entp, the debater ZODIAC SIGN  /  scorpio   ENNEAGRAM TYPE  /  7w8 KINSEY SCALE  /  3 MORAL ALIGNMENT /  chaotic evil / neutral HOGWARTS HOUSE / slytherin ⇢ AESTHETICS. 

goosebumps raised and feelings of growing dread, the dark corner of a room where light doesn’t reach, silver pocket - watches with dead batteries, the scratch of a record player needle, flares in the sky, bad ideas coming to life, half-assed clapping when it’s required, figures dancing within the shadows & a smile you shouldn’t trust . 

⇢ OVERVIEW

literally anybody: when are you free?  eun su: im forever imprisoned in my own personal hell so i am never truly "free" but i don't really have plans all next week except for monday

this is eun su, and will y’all believe me if i say he used to be a good egg before he turned into the rotten egg i’m presentin y’all with today ??  i kid u not.. bs free zone. he did once ..  have a hort  he was born to a cult of witches, his twin brother absorbing all the magic that was meant to be equally distributed between them in his mother’s womb, which pretty much left eunsu as the black sheep of the family. said cult had been living on a small, near enough desolated island for literal decades, entertaining themselves with magic, seeking out knowledge, observing the unassuming populace, and toying with other supernatural creatures who dared cross their paths. unfortunately for eunsu’s family, tragedy struck when one of his aunt’s tried to over throw the high priestess ( his mother ) in their coven. unyielding in her position and untouchable to the magic she was exposed to, her sister went about other ways to break the woman’s spirits, dabbling in black magic predominantly to achieve her goals. eunsu’s brother was, thus, cursed before he was even born with an incurable heart defect that would see him dead before he reached double figures. eunsu’s mother was broken not mourned over how much he missed out as on a child: but she mourned for the fact that he was the only child that harboured any magic in their veins, the only child that could’ve carried on their lineage.   queue entrance of eunsu and his Whats the Worst that Could Happen Attitude. being young and naive, thought he could’ve been able to solve it by himself, solve the issues and earn his mother’s lacking affections. eun had heard about dark vessels that could miraculously grant wishes through summonings. though he didn’t have magic in his veins he had a fire in his heart, and after all, demons cared not for who or what they fed from: so long as they appeased their hunger.  all it wanted in return was a good, pure soul, and that’s what the demon stole from him before it mended his twin brother’s heart, giving the boy a new lease of life that wasn’t intended for him from the start. pity that eunsu died before he got to the age of twenty, following a quick and hungry fever that overtook his frail body and too soon turned deadly. there was no surprise that, come judgement day, he was turned away at the gates of heaven, in exchange for becoming one of lucifer’s own.

as a result of being eternally cursed with immorality and a tainted soul, he's lived some hundred-odd years and is coping by making the current populace in jeonseoul suffer along with finding purpose in digging out the secrets of his past life, mayhaps trying to find the demon who cursed him.... which could definitely be a wc.. and strengthening his abilities as a demon.

his personality is a bit insufferable; eunsu keeps himself distant and cryptic, because he likes it that way. he's a real weirdo ( if u have ever watched hxh he’s hisoka.. THAT weird )  that's hard to forget: completely mischievous, dramatic, and malicious to boot. some days he's waxing poetic about the futility of having a sense of justice and the next he's using his demonic powers to make some innocent tourist think they're hallucinating as they attempt to walk into a steady flow of traffic. 

ultimately life's a game to him and bih.. he’s here to have fun ! he's outlived his actual family and friends ( well, aside from his brother who he barely remembers, prolly be a wc if anyone’s interested ) and he's not looking to get attached to anyone. it would be great to Die because it’s his forever Mood but he also gets furious if anyone tries to actually expel him for real - so he'll simply prod at the world and its people until he gets the reactions he wants.

fair warning: it is a pain to genuinely care about eunsu and not many people will wanna do it. he comes and goes into people's lives as he pleases, stops reaching out once he's bored and only ever grazes the surface of a relationship based on its worth or his curiosities, innocent ppl, cute ppl, etc are just gonna be eaten up by him then dropped. 

the people who will be closest to him are doubtlessly other demons ig ? but he also hates y’all too so.. don’t get too friendly like he’s not here to make friends he’s here to be Jeonseoul’s next top Demon. also since he died sumn like 200 years ago it’s possible some wizards / familiars knew of him and his coven, it’d be super interesting for someone to have known cute human eunsu in exchange for chaotic bastard demon eunsu 

⇢ MISCELLANEOUS

since he’s a young demon, his horns are small and his wings barely span about two inches above his shoulder bones, he got itty bitty bat wings lbr he’s kinda pissed abt it. there’s tattoos over his scars from clashing with other demons / hunters / angels, but his devil’s mark lining the back of his neck, performed by first demon who took his soul, has never faded away. 

he also works as an info broker, which ties in with the fact that he’s a contractual demon ! it's more of a hobby than a job, something he does for kicks and to restock his gambling money and alcohol money, but he offers a helping hand to solo clientele for private cases if need be, just remember to bring your negotiation skills because his manipulation skills are a1.

he's well-versed in witchcraft even if he can’t actually possess the abilities that actual witches can. while hardly the mentoring type, he could be convinced to equip people with his knowledge of latin, spells or dark magic they want if he's interested enough. then again he might decide to screw them over for kicks so ask him for favours with caution.

for someone who carries a ton of spite and secrets, he passes as an easygoing, casual literature major on the daily to disguise his true intentions. find him at the university pretending to be a student and failing miserably at it like edward’s thousand year old ass in twilight

he cheats at the casino with his demonic powers but does it infrequently enough to pass it as luck. play games with him at your own risk. casinos are one of his favourite places but he can really be found anywhere with ease but some other places he frequents are: beaches, libraries, museums, bars, etc !

he'll get on people's nerves, but getting him to care to the degree of hate is another story. living this long has numbed him; people don't surprise him anymore and he doesn't care to spend time thinking about others. the secret to getting him to turn deathly serious is as simple as telling him you can tell that he was once a good person - because the cheesy truth is he was. he just convinces himself that he's given up trying to remember his human life and finds it easier to live like he’s dead.. yknow which he is.

romance makes him queasy, he's a spiteful old bastard and the concept of sweet love rubs him 100% fictional. there's someone he fancied before he was cursed but i'll save you the story: that's a distant dream now.

he might quote romantic works or put some pretty words together but he's fake as Fuck. if he notices someone innocent and unsuspecting crushing on him they are in so much trouble. he'll kiss their hand then twirl them right off a cliff. corruption kink central right here laid ease

as of rn he’s trying to master how to teleport and shadow control but he really is like on level one and he’s got to get up to level 50 to achieve even a fifth of what these other demons can do 

edit: i totally forgot to include eunsu’s ‘demonic’ title after he was banished to the perils of hell. it’s ironically just saint, and he goes around using that bc it’s blasphemous and a big ole middle finger to god himself. nobody will know his real name, but if there’s an off chance that they do, that’s a massive threat to eunsu and he’ll get his Snipers on Scene

tl;dr: 

#oddintro #. I HAVE THE POWER OF GOD AND ANIME ON MY SIDE ── / OOC. ❞ #so this is. a thing!

[ablamarka]

PLAYING DARTS; an agentcorp story

AO3 REQUESTS

Okay, so, picture this: Lena and Alex wanted to get drunk, so they went to this bar too fancy for Alex and too shabby for Lena, it was perfect, there was no way any of them would meet someone they know, right?

Well, sometimes lonely souls find each other.

The place was cool enough that everyone else in there were younger then them, besides the dance floor in the back an the mezzanine with some popular millennials of National city, there was a gigantic rectangular bar with hot bartenders serving cold drinks, stools were disposed around it and the sensual smokey vibe were even more complete with all the beautiful people walking around chatting and dancing.

Of course none of that mattered for them.

They were there enough time to drink until they reached that point in which things feel too much, you know? Your pain is stronger and your loneliness feels heavier. The disgust Lena felt when that guy hit on her was certainly more intense than usual. She decided she would go to the bar downstairs, she stood up in a second and tought that if she decided to go out that night she would really see different people and get out of her confort zone, that was definedly the fouth glass of scotch speaking but she decided to listen anyway, why not?

So, picture this, these two woman were in the same bar facing each other, they sure didn't knew that. They were in opposite sides of the bar, drinking, thinking more than they should with less clarity than usual.

Alex was just thinking about leaving when in a fraction of second their eyes met.

You know those momentos where you wonder if the other person really saw you? If you really have to go and make small talk? That questioning, but Lena, - always so polite, isn't she? - smiled a bit and greeted Alex with a nod, she smiled back and before they knew the staring was over and the vision was again filled by waiters coming and going.

"Was that weird?" They questioned for a while, but I won't make you wonder. It was weird.

The two of them are usually used to see each other in controlled situations only, Kara's house, game nights, sometimes they had Girl's nights and Sam would join them, but that was it, even in the middle of a crisis they felt more comfortable than now, especially because they knew the role they were supposed to play in those situations. Kara's sister, Kara's best friend; the bad ass secret agent, the powerful CEO, but right now they had no idea what the protocol was.

Alex wondered if she was supposed to go there and at least say hi to the other woman, that was the most polite thing to do, and she was just about to leave anyway, she could do that before going home.

She made all the way over Lena's side of the bar and just when she was a meter away she realized the ceo might be waiting for someone, or maybe she was already accompanied. Well, now was too late for that, she was already too close to back off. Lena felt someone's presence near her and was ready to refuse any kind of proposition that usually followed an approach in a bar.

- Hi. - Alex said in the most unconfortable way she had said something in a long time - I tough I would stop by and say hi before I go. - pause - So, - pause - hi.

Can you imagine being a babbling mess like that?

- Hi. - Lena smiled, well she showed a smile because she was actually hiding the laugh the wanted. It was fun to see Agent Danvers like that - Are you already going?

Dear reader, just picture the situation, you're drunk, lonely and haven't had sex in two months, you do to a bar and Lena Luthor (have you seen those eyes?), that was also more drunk than you've ever seen, asked if you're already leaving. Of course you have the option to say "Yes, see you some other day" however, you don't say that, your body just agrees and Alex is not different from that.

- I can stay a little more. - she answered not even sure if the question as actually a request for her to stay.

Lena showed her a full smile, a life saver smile.

Let's go through Lena's mind for a second.

She went to the bar because she was bored, and during her whole life she felt bored so many times and for so many reasons, tonight was just another one of those. What she didn't expect was to see Agent Dancers in there, she was surprised when their eyes met over the bar but she also felt a wam feeling that she didn't know how to respond to. She questioned herself wether or not she should go and talk to Alex. What would she say? It's not like she was used to have deep meaningful conversations with the woman. G.I. Danvers was faster than her, before she could finish her tought Alex was just by her side.

She was caught by surprise by the disappointed feeling she had when Alex said she was leaving, just a two second long interaction already got her used to the presence of someone else.

She did decided to come to this bar after feeling lonely.

- Good. - she smiled after telling the truth, she was happy that Alex decided to stay a little longer, if she was sober she would probably be able to hide that, but right now it felt a little impossible; especially with trained brown eyes now so close and staring so temptatious at her.

- I didn't tought I would ever seen you in here. - Alex said with furrowed eyebrows.

- And why is that? - Lena couldn't help but smile. What was going on with her?

- You're always busy or late to be somewhere else. Didn't tought you would have the time to go out. - she said while trying to make eye contact with the waiter. That gave Lena enough room to stare at her features without being noticed. That was one of her oldest habits, she would look at you and memorize all the secrets and little details that go unnoticed usually.

Alex looked tired and unsure of something, maybe being there in her company or maybe being there at all.

- Well, I needed a drink. - she touched the glass and felt Alex's look on her - And i didn't wanted t drink alone in my place.

- I know exactly how you feel. - they moved their glasses together for a toast, both of them surprised with the honesty that was set between them.

And so they talk.

Alex started to tell Lena about her day to fill the silence but the story got lost when she remembered how much details she would have to leave behind, fortunately the green eyes woman also had a story to tell about her day, a reunion with Maxwell Lord.

They had so much to talk about that.

And they did.

In the middle of laughs, light touched, lingering looks and a few more empty glasses Alex forgot she was going home, and Lena decided to order a couple of shots.

It could be a good or a bad idea, it all depended in the point of view.

They took shots and that's when it begun.

The two women were aware who they were drinking with, they were hot and have noticed that about each other, that's what I'm saying.

And the shots set those thoughts free, the look Alex gave Lena lasted a little longer when she dared the competitive woman to drink one more shot.

- Are you trying to get me drunk, Agent? - It was a nice provocation, calling Alex by her title, it was impersonal enough for them to distance tonight from any other meeting they've had.

- If that was my goal it would be complete a couple shots ago. - Alex laughed seeing Lena's offended face after finishing the glass.

- We have more fun when we're drunk, so i guess that's okay. - as she said that Lena held her head with her hand, her left elbow was on the counter and she had a full vision of her company.

- I can think of some fun activities we can do without alcohol. - Alex bit her lip and looked from Lena's exposed neck to her blushing cheeks.

Alex got Lena speechless. The green eyes looked anywhere but the woman in front of them, Lena didn't know what to say and that was something she wasn't used to.

- You want to share some of those activities? - now it was Alex's turn to be speechless.

- Well, do you like playing pool?

That was the first thing that came in Alex's mind (the first PG rated thing that came in Alex's mind) but also the worst thing she could say.

Pool was a instant reminder of Maggie for her, she liked to think she was over her but some things remained in the memory. And she tought about her ex fiancee sooner that night, as soon as she sat in the other side of the bar, she couldn't help but think that if she and Maggie hadn't broken up she wouldn't feel the loneliness she was getting used to.

- It's been years since I've played pool. - Lena answered still in a flirting tone, having no idea what was going on in the other woman's mind.

- We could change that, but I don't think they have one in here. - Alex looked around and ecided to come back to the present moment. She finished the liquid in her glass, that would help her clean her mind.

- No, but they do have darts up stairs. - she was regretted in the second she finished, she was awful at darts.

- You don't want to play darts with me, I'm too good at it.

- I may or may not be terrible at darts.

Alex's face went dead serious, Lena was instantly worried she have done something wrong or that Alex suddenly changed her mind about being there with her.

The word "Luthor" was flashing in her had the entire time she was around Alex in all moments, not only there, but being closer to the Danvers Girls and talking like they were somewhat friends made her feel more worried.

Worried Alex would remember her family killed thousands of people and her mother had just kidnapped her father and stand up at any second and leave her there.

And she couldn't even blame her for doing that.

But she didn't.

Instead she said.

- You're not good at darts. - The serious face and the worried face stared at each other - Have I finally found something Lena Luthor is not good at?

- Fuck... - she breathed out relieved - I was scared of what you were going to say. - Alex laughed at her and Lena gave a light slap at her arm.

- How about I teach you? - she suggested.

- You're drunk.

- I'm not! - Alex moved away too fast and lost her balance almost falling, if it wasn't for Lena's hand reaching for hers and holding her in place. - Okay, I am. - that made them both laugh.

- How about I teach you? - she asked again looking straight into Lena's eyes, while their hands were still linked together.

They reached the point that they wouldn't even pretend the attraction wasn't real.

They both knew and could feel that.

They had both turned in the stool some minutes ago so now they were falling each other and Lena wasn't hiding the fact that she was deliberated staring at Alex's lips while thinking about the question.

- Are you a good teacher? - Lena was starting to enjoy the shy smile Alex had in her face every time she teased her, however Agent Danvers was a good player too and that smile was always gone very fast with some provocative answer.

- Only with well behaved students.

- I promiss I won't cause any trouble. - Alex's lips were so close, she could just reach them in less than a second. No, she couldn't.

Alex wanted it so bad, but she wasn't sure if that was just the liquor speaking.

That had so many meanings, it could be just a part of their little roleplay nut it was also what went through Alex's mind every time she tought about closing the distance between them.

Lena was trouble.

- You shouldn't make promesses you can't keep, you know? - Alex stood up, the starring as too intense, she had lost all her protective shield for Lena - Will you lead the way?

Lena nodded and held Alex's hand escorting them upstairs, they made their way between the people dancing on the dance floor, the security in the bottom of the stairs didn't even hesitated before allowing them both to enter the most private part of the club.

The warm in their hands felt almost familiar and when they reached the small round table with high sits near the dartboard they knew it was time to let go but there was no excuse to do that anymore. As soon as they reach the table a young and good looking man came in their direction with a couple of different drinks serving them with a flirting smile.

- Show me your talents. - Lena sked after taking a sip of her drink.

Alex smiled and suddenly felt a little unsure, she wouldn't know where to hide if she missed this. She glanced at her new friend in the seat, watching every move she made.

She picked the three darts stucked in very different places of the board, all very far from the red dot in the middle, the person that played before her clearly wasn't a pro. As she was taking some distance from the wall she gained ger confidence again.

Come on, have you seen her shoot?

The first dart was thrown exactly in the middle of the red dot.

She haven't turned to see Lena's face but sh knew the CEO was surprised.

Once she got the first one right the following two were just a formality, of course she got them right too and she shot them so fast Lena was kind od confused which was each one since the three of them had hit the same perfect spot.

Now that she was done, she turned to Lena and took a step in her direction with a smug. Lena's mouth was hanging, what the hell?

- That was... - Lena was surprised, of course she already expected Alex to be good at that, she had seen her shoot a man with no hesitation and that was impressive enough, but she had also seen Alex take almost ten shots that night.

- Your turn. - she said as she brought the darts to Lena, that still looked quite surprised, that was exactly the reaction she expected.

- There's no way I'm going after that. - Lena had a nervous smile on her face that only a couple of people in her life had seen.

Alex took her hand and made her get up reluctant.

- You can do this, go ahead.

Alex sat on the stol and stared a her company.

Lena didn't even knew what to do with her dart when Alex gave it to her. She divided her look between the woman and the little object in her hand.

- I can see the mechanisms turning.- Alex laughed and Lena shot her a disturbed look.

- Okay, just concentrate. - Alex couldn't just sit there and watch, she did promised to help Lena. - focus on the red dot in the middle, that is the target. - Lena rolled her eyes as Alex explained.

- I might be drunk and might be seeing two targets, but I know what a target is. - Alex couldn't help but laugh at Lena's annoyed voice.

- Just try it.

Lena rolled her eyes again and tuned to the board, she tried o imitate Alex's body when she was doing the same but she was sure she was not even close to the right position, she took a deep breath and threw the dart.

The dart was about 10 inches away from the middle, all the way to the left side and, honestly, looked like it was about to fall out of the board.

- It wasn't that bad. - Alex said as Lena was still staring at the wall, seeming defeated.

- Good teachers don't lie to their students. - she said as she turned to Alex and headed back to the table.

- What are you doing? You can't give up. - Alex said taking the drink out of her hand and linking their hands together. - One more try?

Here's one thing that you probably already know: Lena was really competitive and she hated losing, but at this moment it was more than that. She and Alex had set the entire night on this nonstop provocations that were only fun because them both had the perfect answer.

Right now she felt like she was out of the game.

Alex's eyes stared at hers so deep that she wished she wasn't that drunk so she could remember exactly how it felt like in the morning.

These eyes, they made ger feel like drowning, like sinking deep down into the ocean and she wasn't sure she wanted to come back.

That was the effect of Alex's look on her. Like drowning; and finding out what's under the sea feels more real than the hot sand.

She didn't wanted to go back to the superficie, but she knew she would have to.

- Alex... - she started unsure - Can we not tell Kara about tonight?

That was the superficie.

- That you can't play darts? - Alex joked, but knew exactly what Lena was talking about.

Lena kept staring at her completely ignoring the joke.

Alex was so unconfortable talking about this, she's been trying to let go of Kara the entire night. What was happening right now would never happen in any other situation, especially if Kara was involved in it.

Mostly because they wouldn't be this drunk and Kara wouldn't let them feel lonely as they were when they arrived, but also because Kara was the reality, was the everyday, and they knew that they were far from that.

A friendship between Lena and Kara was already hard to imagine but between Lena and Alex? That was just delusional.

- It will be between us. - they nodded knowing what that meant. - I said I would teach you, come on. - Alex tried again.

By now, they were so comfortable with each other that even tho Lena knew just how bad she would be, she couldn't help but try once. It wasn't normal for her to do something just because it was fun, especially if it included her being vulnerable in front of someone.

- You'll have to stop laughing and keep your breath steady. Focus on the targed.

I think it is a nice idea to describe their positions on this scene, specially if you're ever interested in playing darts. Which I'm sure you are.

Lena had her body exactly in front of the board, Alex led her to be in the right position, with the right side of her body facing the wall. Her hands were on Lena's waist and the other led her arm to be on the exact height it was supposed to be for the perfect shot.

Alex moved her left hand to Lena's stomach, making sure that the woman kept her breathing calm, and she had no idea how hard that was.

- Close your left eye, and lift your hand until the dart is covering the target.

Lena lifted her arm a little and closed her eye just like she was told to do, Alex's right hand followed hers and just like that their bodies were completely connected.

- The pressure is the hardest thing to get right, ok? - Alex's mouth was just behind her ear, she was speaking low and calmly trying not to disconcentrate Lena but she was only making it worst. - Take a deep breath and throw it in the second you exhale. You get it? - Lena nodded slowly and Alex could feel her breath.

Neither of them moved a single millimeter, as Lena felt Alex's respiration in her neck, her eyes left the board and looked at the woman's face, closer than has ever been.

- Let's make a bet. - she said not moving a inch, her voice was a drunk whisper, the alcohol in her voice made Alex feel even more filled by the moment and Lena's devious smile was not any help. - If I lose, I'll buy the next round. - Alex's mouth had a bit open, hypnotized by the green eyes so close and so fixated on her. - But if I get it right, you kiss me.

Lena Luthor was like a wizard's watch moving from one side to the other, she couldn't keep her eyes off of her and at the same time she was taken to another dimension. She had ever though she would be in this situation with her, but right now she was so hypnotized that she didn't know how to leave, she didn't even wanted to leave, and that was something to worry about.

But not now.

Alex bit her own lip and nodded silently.

Lena focused on the target, took a deep breath and shot the dart.

Now she had another reason to get this one right, as she prepared to the show neither one of them moved, not even a inch, their bodies remained in the same place. Alex looked at Lena's concentrated face instead of the wall.

The dart was thrown and they both looked at it as soon as it hit the board.

- I guess I'm paying our drinks. - Lena said with a nervous smile.

The bet was only made because she really thought there was a chance she got that one right. Now she was just humiliated in two different ways.

Alex let go of her waist and she instantly missed it. She watched as the agent took a few steps towards the board.

Lena haven't had the chance to see Alex's face after she missed the shot, she had n idea if she was disappointed or glad that she missed.

Her eyes continued following the woman, Alex went straight for the dart she had just thrown, she pulled it fast and pinned it back at he board, except this time the dart was exactly in the middle of the red dot.

She kept looking at Alex.

Alex turned back her body to a now very confused Lena Luthor.

- What are you talking about? - she said pretending nothing happened.

- Alex... - Lena laughed.

- You're a natural. - her exaggerated surprised look only made Lena laugh even more. Alex slowly got closer to her, looking straight in her eyes, Lena couldn't help but smile.

- Alex, you don't have to do this. - Lena bit her lip as Alex got close enough to hold her by her waist, her hands immediatly reached for Alex's arms and the contact felt more right than everything she have done in a long time.

They stared at each other and wished they were more drunk. Right now they felt, they remembered, they expected a little too much than they should for it to mean nothing.

- I think you just found out a new talent.

Alex's lips and drunk breath were a second away fom her, closer than has been the whole night. The agent wanted this, she reached a moment she couldn't contain herself and she knew lena also wanted this. She wouldn't make the bet if shedidn'r, but it was before that, it was more than that. It was the touch, the eyes, the voice, the proximity.

The game was on its way to a end.

The encounter was fast, Alex reached for her lips n a single movement or else she would lose the courage. Her hands remained in Lena's hips, bringing their bodies closer, not letting one empty inch between them. Lena's hands wennt straight to the other woman's neck, she held Alex and controled the kiss in a way there wa no doubt she would. Her thumb brushed Alex's cheek, but her other fingers mixed with her hair, the movement of passion and caring was just a reflex of the relationship they both initiated this night.

However, the great climax of this moment, the epitome of this kiss was on their lips. They felt right and they felt home, it was temptative at first, it was a risk, and as Lena's lips reacted opening and deepening the kiss, it was a risk worthy taking. Their mouths opened and closed tasting each other, Alex's lips parted one more time as Lena's tongue entered them giving new sensations for both of them. It was not what they expected.

Of course it was hot, tasted like alcohol, felt like preliminaries and smelled like scotch and a night club, but it was also way, and in more than one way it felt like something that wouldn't end tonight.

Alex slightly bit Lena's lower lip and held it between her teeth, their eyes met, Alex released Lena's mouth then brought her hand to the woman's chin and gave a light kiss on her lips.

The game was finally over. There was no left dart to throw.

They stared at each other and had no idea what to do next.

Lena's fingers continued to stroke Alex's hair, near to her neck, but still, they had no idea what followed that. Alex's panoramic view saw one of the waiters approaching them and separated their bodies still not letting go of Lena's waist.

- Do you need a drink? - The control freak, powerful CEO, probably dominatrix, asked reluctat with a husky unstable voice.

- Sure. - Alex answered smiling trying not to be a idiot and laugh.

Lena nodded and walked her way to the table, only to have Alex pushing her by the hand and meeting her lips again.

Alex held Lena's face with both hands, she needed to know that the kiss wasn't just begginers luck and a first time thing, she needed the answer even tho she would have no idea what to do with this.

Lena grabbed Alex's jacket and smiled between the kiss, their mouths parted and they continued to smile at each other.

The short haired woman narrowed her eyes and locked their lips again, that was a situation none of them could think of when they left their houses at the beggining of the evening, the highest expectation they had was to get drunk and not throw up too much when they arrived home, never crossed their minds that they would not only run into each other but find themselves in each other. Lena threw her arms over Alex's shoulders and, as cliche as it may sound, everything around them was just a blur.

The kiss, the touches, the warmth, the tastes, they all started to get lost, their hot breaths melted every wall that existed, Alex's lips on Lena's neck and their hands now travelling further into their bdies left them no choice but leave.

Lena's private driver was already outside and they didn't even realized the steps they were taking (physical and emotional ones), they were just being led by desire, connection and loneliness.

In the car, Alex's hands made their way through Lena's legs and thights, before she could kneel down and give Lena everythig she deserved right there, the driver announced they arrived. Alex somehow, between having Lena's lips on he neck and hands under her shirt, managed to give him her address.

They were rushing, their hands were all over the place and they desired each other's bodies in a way no elevator make out could handle. Lena and Alex waited for this the whole night, from the first flirty comment to the second before they kissed. Alex pressed Lena's body between her and the elevaor wall, she held the CEO hands above them and kissed from her ear lobe to her chest, Lena moaned her name and moved her hands begging for control even tho she knew there was no point fighting Alex, that was so much stronger than her.

She haven't even taken off one piece of clothes but she was already begging for relief.

- Don't leave a mark. - Lena said between a loud moan that she couldn't supress. Alex smiled while kissing her neck and then replaced it for her lips.

Right now, I must add, neither one wanted to say, they might not even realize that now, but they were starting to get addicted to each other. How could it be so new, but already feel like home? Was it Lena's need to find a home? Or was it Alex's need to create her own?

The elevator doors opened and Alex released her hands, Lena's instantly used them to pull Alex even closer, they were so lost in each other that the doors begin closing while they were distracted. Alex quickly left the kiss and held the elevator, not letting go of Lena's waist.

They walked side by side until they reached the inside of Alex's apartment, as soon as they were finally alonne, Lena pushed the agent against the wall and kissed her senseless while working on her belt.

- Are you in a rush? - Alex mocked her in the middle of the kiss.

- Shut up, Danvers. - Lena shot her an annoyed look and Alex forgot everything else in her life just by having those beautiful green eyes starring at her.

By the time they reached the bed they bot had already orgasmed twice, and that would never be enough. Except now, they were calmer, they had the excitation but they weren't out of breath and that changed the dynamic.

Alex threw Lena in the bed and stood there, they were both completely naked, their hair was absolutely a mess and were covered in sweat, she stared Lena's body and started to lean in, slowly, she kept getting closer and Lena would not move one inch her breathh was steady and her eyes followed every movement Alex made. Placing her hands in the bed in each side of the CEO body, next to her shoulders, she leaned in until her face was close to Lena's chest that the woman would feel her breath but not close enough to touch.

The older Danvers took a deep breath; Lena smelled like sex and alcohol but she also smelled like some flower that Alex would never identify and vanilla, she left a soft kiss just between her breasts and she felt the shivers in Lena's skin.

Lena had no idea what Alex intended to do, she was torned between pulling the woman's hair and leading her head to her pussy so she could orgasm again as quick as possible or letting Alex tak her time, kiss every single part of her body and fuck her slowly.

With all the patience of the world, Alex made her way up to Lena's face with soft kissed and small bites, the moans almost inaudible would only made her go slower, with her lips brushing Lena's lips she asked:

- How drunk are you?

That was the final question. That could be the end, or the possibility of a beggining, but neither of them would think that far.

Lena wasn't drunnk anymore, she was definetely dizzy, she felt like she was out of reality and she could almost feel the endorfin in her veins. However, she wasn't sure if that was because of the alcohol or just a reaction to having Alex so close to her – and having Alex kneeled on the floor with two fingers inside her, tongue pressing her clit while she tried to balance just twenty minutes ago.

She might feel like she was drunk, but she wasn't, she wouldn't like to Alex and she knew Alex wouldn't continue this is she wasn't able to consent.

But saying she was sober would have too many meanings and she would have to be drunk to face them.

- I'm not.

She took a risk.

She threw a dart.

Alex kissed her. Slow, passionate, deep. It almost felt like something real. She held Alex's face and tangled one leg with alex's, she craved for contact, she wanted to feel.

Something.

Anything.

Especially, Alex.

The agent needed to know if this was a druk mistake or just a very stupid thing.

In the middle of the kiss all of her worries were gone.

...

In the middle of the night Lena was gone.

Alex woke up alone.

The hangover was already expected, the empty bed should have been too.

Nevertheless, she knew the hangover would be gone soon, but there was always a new game of darts to play.

Thank you so much for reaching this point! Like to support my work <3

#agentcorp #lena luthor #alex danvers #supergirl #tigercorp #chyler leigh #katie mcgrath #fanfiction #writing

[ijustwant2write]

It Wasn't You-Ivar Ragnarrson x Reader

(GIF credits to owner)

Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: requested by anonymous: ‘Hey can I request an imagine where the reader is married with Ivar, and they want a child but after months of trying reader isnt pregnant. Then when they are drunk reader sleeps with bjorn and she ends up pregnant and ivar finds out.’

Characters: Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader, Bjorn Ironside x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)= Your name

Warnings: Anger, fights, sadness

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I was in no rush to go home. After visiting the village healer, there was no good news again. I took the long route, not wanting to risk running into anyone, especially the queen. When I finally reached home, I wasn’t expecting my husband to be there. Ivar was sat at the table, hands clasped together as he stared at nothing. When I entered, his head lifted up.

“Well?” he asked.

I shook my head, unable to speak at that moment.

His fists slammed on the table.“Why won’t the gods bless me with a child?! After all I have done for them!”

“You cannot blame them.” I mumbled as I stood next to him.

He was very angry.“And it is my fault?”

“I didn’t say that-”

“No but you meant it. I don’t know why you ever married me. What they say is true, I am just a useless cripple.”

This was our daily argument. Ivar would always play this card. Of course he was not just some cripple, this man had conquered England with a huge army, he was one of the fiercest warriors there was; but he would always see himself a different way. However, after months of trying and months of consoling him, I was sick of it. Over never asked how I was.

“I am not going to comfort you Ivar. It’s the same every time.” I raised my voice.

“Is it so bad that I just want a child?” he gripped onto my arm.

I snatched it away.“And so do I! Not once have you come to me and told me everything was going to be alright. You haven’t held me during these hard times, it’s always about you!”

He said nothing, trying to hide his guilty face.

I scoffed.“You won’t even admit it. As my husband, I would expect something from you, we are supposed to take care of each other.”.

“Have I not taken care of you?!”

“Yes but I need you when things like this happen. Of course you need just the same thing but I never get any of that back.”

“How dare you accuse me of that! Especially at a time like this.”

I threw my hands up in the air in defeat.“I am done speaking about this. If you are not going to see sense then I’m leaving.”

“You will not go anywhere! Listen to me (Y/N).”

I did not hear anymore from Ivar as I slammed the door shut. We both had short fuses, being stubborn together was an awful match. There was no one else I loved more than him, but by the gods could we argue. It was as if a small war zone was going on between us when we fought; though whenever we did fight, it was over bigger, important things, nothing pointless. But after all these months of trying to make a child with nothing happening, we were both taking a toll.

I found myself wandering around aimlessly, still frustrated that we hadn’t produced a child. Yes, it could be Ivar’s fault, but it could be mine also. Until we knew the real reason, there was no one to blame. That was just an easy way to release some anger.

“(Y/N), what are you doing out here alone?” Bjorn suddenly appeared in front of me.

“Oh,” I hadn’t been focused,“sorry Bjorn, I did it see you there. Ivar and I had an argument and I needed to be alone.”

“What was it about this time?”

I hesitated.“Um, I’d rather not say.”

“You are not with child again.”

My eyes widened.“How did you know?”

“Because that’s all you two ever argue about nowadays. Come on, I cannot leave you out here at this time.”

Bjorn took us back to his home. It had gotten very dark as we entered and I was thankful he took me in. A part of me some wondered if I should have gone back to Ivar but then I remembered our argument. No, he could suffer for a while longer. Making myself comfy in front of the fire, I thanked Bjorn as he handed me a drink, it was very much needed at this point.

“Slow down, you need to pace yourself.” Bjorn warned as he sipped from his own cup.

“Why? It’s not like I am harming anything inside me. No, my womb shall stay empty for a long time.”

“You knew that when you married Ivar.”

“But I didn’t. Those were all rumours, Ivar definitely knows how to pleasure a woman.”

“That may be so but he cannot produce a child. I know you’ve been wanting one.”

“I’m so tired of trying. Perhaps it really isn’t meant to be. Maybe Ivar cannot give me a child or it could be I that cannot do it.”

“He is a cripple, of course it is him.”

Having already finished my drink, I poured myself another.“Not necessarily.”

“You should not blame yourself over this.”

“Is there even a point anymore? Every time turns out negative and then we argue. I don’t want that anymore. But it’s always about him, never me. He wants to protect his manhood, I am the woman he chose to have stand beside him.”

Bjorn said nothing, taking my cup out of my hands and replacing it with a bigger one. I watched as the alcohol poured into it, wondering why he had suddenly changed his mind about the whole thing.

“I thought you said I needed to pace myself?” I pointed out.

“No, I changed my mind. You definitely need this.”

Everything was blurred after that. All I remember was drinking lots, challenging Bjorn to who could drink the most and I recall playing that game quite a few times. Bjorn was able to take my mind off what had happened. We were laughing at the most stupid things though it made me feel so much better. Ivar never crossed my mind that night, not once; I came to regret that in the morning.

As I rolled over to embrace my husband, I felt a different build beneath me. Staying still for a few moments, I slowly opened my eyes, scared about who I was going to see. When blonde hair came into view, I could have screamed. Bjorn was fast asleep, naked just as I was. No, I didn’t did I? How could I betray Ivar like that?! He had never done anything like this to me. A huge wave of guilt and sadness washed over me, I almost burst into tears right there.

I fumbled around, trying to get changed quickly. The sun was already rising into the sky, Ivar would be awake soon. Trying to hold back all of my emotions, I focused on not waking up the man in the bed. It seemed that I had failed.

“(Y/N), what are you doing?” he groaned. We were both suffering from headaches.

“I am leaving. I can’t believe we did that! How did we do that?!”

He sat up to face me.“Do not worry, many men share their wives. Ivar will understand.”

“Ivar will not know of this. And I am not a whore to be passed around.”

With that I left, hurrying through the village back home. Ivar was going to ask questions, a lot of them, which meant I had to be prepared. I should have stayed to discuss what to do with Bjorn, I was so caught up in the moment that I had to get out of there. Reaching home, it took all of my willpower not to turn around and run away.

“So you decided to come home?” Ivar was quick to catch me off guard.

“I’m sorry I didn’t return.” I started as I closed the door.

He crawled towards me.“You had me worried.”

“Well you didn’t come after me.”

He grunted at that. Pulling himself onto a stool, his eyes bore into mine.“And where did you disappear off to last night?”

“Bjorn found me wandering the streets. He wouldn’t let me stay out alone so I went to his house. He offered drinks and being in the state I was in, I decided to drown my sorrows rather than talk about them. It was very foolish and immature.”

I had half lied.

Luckily he didn’t ask further.“It was stupid. But he should have brought you home.”

“Yes, I realise that now. Drinking just seemed like an easy release.”

“Go to bed. You look like you’ve been up all night.”

He dismissed me, waiting for me to do as he said. Keeping quiet as I passed him, I couldn’t believe the secret I had now. How was this all going to work out?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Months passed and nothing was said about the incident. Bjorn never brought it back up so neither did I. However, the new situation at hand was the fact that I was now with child, a miracle baby. Ivar was ecstatic, he could finally start a family; though with another man’s child. This whole time I had been acting. When I found out, I vowed to tell him the truth before it went any further. Alas, I could not being myself to crush his happiness; so when I found myself arguing with Bjorn once again, I didn’t realise I was doing exactly that.

“What is going to happen when the child comes out looking nothing like him?!” Bjorn snapped at me.

“I-I don’t know! There must be something we can do!”

“No, there’s nothing we can do (Y/N). That child is mine and I have every right to see them. The baby needs it’s real father.”

“Real father?” although he was quiet, we both heard him. Ivar had crawled in whilst our voices were raised, masking the sound of him dragging his body around.

I tried to calm him down.“Ivar-”

“(Y/N), please tell me it is not true. You did not do this to me.” his voice was trembling.

“I was going to tell you. But you were so happy and I-”

“You felt pity because I could not create a baby. Are you trying to humiliate me?”

I stepped closer.

“No! Stay away! That night, when you were with him, that’s when it happened, isn’t it?”

Bjorn decided to step in.“Yes. But we were both drunk-”

“Oh, so that makes everything ok then. If you had just said that I would have been fine.”

I sadly sighed.“Ivar please. I love you. I didn’t mean to do this to us.”

“How am I supposed to believe anything you say now? You carry my brother’s child instead of mine, a lie that has been kept from me for months.”

Over had styed relatively calm and quiet throughout the argument which worried me. He was plotting something, something that would involve one of us getting hurt.

“Get out. You will not come back here.”

“You’re throwing me out?”

“Of course I am! I will not keep a whore in my house.”

“(Y/N), come on. This is not good for the baby.” Bjorn gently dragged me away, knowing that I wouldn’t move otherwise.

How could I throw something so precious away? How had I messed up this badly? Bjorn Let me stay with him and even though I desperately wanted to run back into Ivar’s arms and beg forgiveness, I knew it was better for me to stay here. It was Bjorn’s child but I did not love him. This poor child would come into this world with parents who were idiots. Every night I prayed that he would change his mind, it would be a mirale if that happened. The Gods were not looking down fondly at me, however, I did not deserve any sympathy.

Finally the day came for my baby to be born. I had never felt such intense pain before. It was worse than fighting on the battlefield. As I clung onto the midwife’s hand, almost crushing the bones, the other midwife delivered the baby. I was tired, sweaty, crying and I just wanted my son or daughter to get out now. I was yelling profanities loudly, telling and screaming. Why did women go through this? Was this really going to be worth it in the end?

Yes, yes it was.

The most beautiful baby boy was being held in front of me, screaming as much as I had. As I held him close, I cried with joy, happy that this was all over with and that they were here after months of waiting. But as I studied him more, I found myself drowning slightly. All this time I had expected something different. This baby did not resemble any features of Bjorn, one of them being that he didn’t have blonde hair; no, it was a dark brown, just like my husband’s. Ivar had really made a child, after everyone doubted him.

And now I no longer had him. My family would never be complete.

#vikings #vikings imagine #vikings imagines #vikings one shot #vikings x reader #vikings fanfiction #vikings fan fiction #Ivar Ragnarsson #Ivar Ragnarsson imagine #Ivar Ragnarsson imagines #Ivar Ragnarsson x reader #Ivar Ragnarsson one shot #Ivar imagine #Ivar one shot #Ivar imagines #Ivar x Reader

[jobannn]

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

The Perks of Being a Wallflower is a young adult coming-of-age epistolary novel by American writer Stephen Chbosky. The Movie follows Charlie, an introverted observing teenager, through his freshman year of high school in a Pittsburgh suburb. This explains the details Charlie's unconventional style of thinking as he navigates between the worlds of adolescence and adulthood, and attempts to deal with poignant questions spurred by his interactions with both his friends and family.

All through the 1991-1992 school year, Charlie, the 15-year-old saint, begins forming letters about his own life to a dark recipient tended to, "dear friend". In these letters, he discusses his first year at optional school and his fights with two horrendous experiences: the implosion of his single place school buddy, Michael Dobson, and the downfall of his main aunt, Helen.  His careful English teacher, who inclinations Charlie to call him Bill, sees Charlie's excitement for examining and forming and goes probably as a mentor by apportioning him extracurricular books and reports. Despite the way that he is a recluse, Charlie is become a nearby acquaintance with by two seniors: Patrick and Sam. Patrick are dating Brad, a football player, and Sam is Patrick's stepsister. Charlie quickly develops a consuming squash on Sam and thus yields this to her. It is revealed that Sam was abused as an adolescent, and she kisses Charlie to ensure that his first kiss is from someone who truly loves him. Like his own understanding, Charlie watches his sister's lover hit her over the face, yet she disallows him from telling their people. He in the end makes reference to the function to Bill, who uncovers to Charlie's people about it. Charlie's relationship with his sister rapidly rots and she continues watching her darling against her people's cravings. Over the long haul, he finds that his sister is pregnant and agrees to convey her to an untimely birth office without telling anyone. His sister says the last goodbye to her playmate, after which her relationship with Charlie begins to improve essentially.  Charlie is recognized by Sam and Patrick's social affair of partners and starts investigating various roads concerning tobacco, alcohol, and various drugs. At a social event, Charlie staggers on LSD. He can't control his flashbacks of Aunt Helen, who kicked the container in a car crash on her way to deal with getting him a birthday present. He ends up in the clinical center in the wake of falling asleep in the three-day weekend. At a Rocky Horror Picture Show execution, Charlie is drawn nearer to fill in as Rocky for Sam's darling Craig, who couldn't go to the show that night. Their friend Mary Elizabeth is astonished and asks Charlie to the Sadie Hawkins move and they go into a random relationship. The relationship closes, in any case, during a series of truths or dares when Charlie is embarked to kiss the prettiest youngster in the room. He kisses Sam, and Mary Elizabeth steps out of the room in like manner. Following this, Patrick recommends that Charlie stay away from Sam for quite a while, and the rest of his association pack avoids him. Without allies to involve Charlie from his considerations and fights, his flashbacks of Aunt Helen return. Patrick and Brad's relationship is found by Brad's harmful father, and Brad disappears from school for two or three days. After returning, Brad is cold and mean toward Patrick, while Patrick tries to reconnect with him. Nevertheless, when Brad cruelly attacks Patrick's sexuality transparently, Patrick really attacks Brad until other football players take an interest and unite against Patrick. Charlie partakes in the fight to monitor Patrick, and separates it, recovering the respect of Sam and her sidekicks. Patrick begins contributing an enormous bit of his energy with Charlie, and Patrick kisses Charlie rashly anyway then apologizes. Charlie is smart considering the way that he fathoms that Patrick is so far recovering from his assessment with Brad. In a little while, Patrick sees Brad attracting with an untouchable in the diversion community and Patrick can continue forward from the relationship. As the school year closes, Charlie is eager about losing his more prepared friends, especially Sam, who is leaving for a pre-summer school starter program and has found that her darling sabotaged her. Exactly when Charlie causes her pack, they talk about his expressions of warmth for her; she is enraged that he never followed up on them. They begin to interface unequivocally, yet Charlie startlingly turns out to be bafflingly abnormal and stops Sam. Charlie begins to comprehend that his sexual contact with Sam has worked up checked memories of him being assaulted by his Aunt Helen as a youngster. Charlie gives signs of PTSD from the event and the divulgence of his abuse empowers the peruser to appreciate his viewpoints on associations and love.  In an epilog, Charlie is found by his people in a psychological state and doesn't show any turn of events despite being hit reluctantly by his father. Resulting in being admitted to a mental crisis facility, it is revealed that Helen very mauled him when he was young, the memories he had accidentally repressed. This psychological damage explains his flashbacks and derealization organizes all through the book. In two months, Charlie is conveyed, and Sam and Patrick visit him. In the epilog, Sam, Patrick, and Charlie experience the section again and Charlie stands up and yells that he feels boundless.  Charlie unavoidably manages his past: "Whether or not we don't be able to pick where we start from, we can at present pick where we go starting there". Charlie decides to "share" for the duration of regular daily existence, and his letter-creating closes.

I truly love this film since this reflects being a loner like me and in the wake of distributing somebody gives me acknowledgment that having somebody won't be that terrible and it can even transform you. First Lesson is, meeting new individuals isn't so difficult. In the wake of building colossal nervousness around the way that he has not yet made any companions at school, Charlie chooses to contact Patrick during a football coordinate. He is a real sense just says "Hello, Patrick", and the rest is history! "Prostitute and The Falcon" We frequently award unnecessary load to minor viewpoints, ideas, and choices that become an integral factor in our lives consistently. Keep it basic, and life will be straightforward. Kapish. Next is, being a friend zone isn't so terrible. Well at any rate known to mankind of this film. He gets the young lady toward the day's end, and they all live cheerfully ever after-far away from one another, lamentably. I really think this film romanticizes the friendzone a piece by making that cheerful completion. A great many people in the zone won't receive in return in a year or ever. Sorry folks. Finally, Introverts are marvelous. Loners are fascinating animals. On the off chance that kinship was a fire, let's simply state they have huge loads of fuel, yet no flash. So next time you see somebody simply hanging out, start a discussion with them, no one can really tell how wonderful they may very well be. The most powerful scene for me is the revelation of why Charlie is like that (introvert) and it was because of her aunt. This tells us that everything we do isn’t always something that we want to, imagine Charlie’s life is he wasn’t maltreated by her aunt, he wound been an introvert at the first place. I can connect with Charlie because I am also not an introvert before but due to personal issues, I am here now, didn’t even want to talk to life and with him I realized that being introvert is cool at all. And this makes me remember how I changed when I met my friends, they changed my life. Even though they know how awkward I am socially but the still embraced about who I am.

[ravenclawwriting]

heaven

Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter Warnings: swearing, alcohol I can’t deny this was totally inspired by @sappypotter :)

Draco could hear the muffled voices through the thick, wooden door of his dorm. He was planning on staying in bed all night, but the voices from the common room kept getting louder and louder, and it was doubtable that Draco would get any sleep.

When he was sure of hearing Pansy’s cackling laugh from the next room, he finally decided to just go and join them. 

A small silence fell over everyone when the blonde boy entered. Draco quickly scanned the room, which consisted of: Blaise Zabini, who wore the usual smirk on his lips, but seemed truly surprised to see Draco; Pansy, short hair tickling her neck, her chin tilted up with her usual demeanor; Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, whose legs were tangled together affectionately, his arm hung loosely over her shoulders.

And last of the bunch, who probably looked the most out of place next to Draco himself, was none other than Harry Potter, who pushed his wire-framed glasses half an inch up his nose as he stared at Draco, along with everyone else.

They all sat in a circle on the floor of the Slytherin common room, which wasn’t rare, ever since McGonagall implemented the new house unity rules for their eighth year. Draco sucked in a breath and regretted coming out of his room.

He just wished Potter would stop staring at him. It made him want to fidget.

“Well, look who decided to join us!” Pansy said, and Draco could tell alone from the tone of her voice that she was a little drunk. It wasn’t until then that he noticed the bottle of firewhiskey in the center of the circle, and all of the plastic cups scattered around the five of them.

When Draco didn’t respond, Blaise said, “Are you gonna sit, Malfoy? Or stand there and continue to stare at us all night?”

Clearing his throat, Draco nodded and muttered,”Yeah, I’ll sit.” He then proceeded to plop down where the biggest gap was, which just happened to be in between Pansy and Harry.

“Well, pour him a drink, Blaise,” prompted Pansy, as Blaise was refilling his own cup. But before Blaise took out a new cup for Draco, Harry blurted, “He can have mine. I’m done for the night.”

Draco turned to look at the curly-haired boy, who was holding out his half-filled cup of firewhiskey, almost like a peace offering. Harry’s glasses had fallen back down his nose, and it took a lot of willpower for Draco not to lean over and adjust them himself.

He tried to think of some witty insult about Potter drugging him, but Draco couldn’t even think straight when his pale fingers brushed against Harry’s warm ones, through the exchanging of the cup.

“Oh,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “Thanks.”

Draco turned back to face everyone, and he could practically feel Pansy’s stare digging into his skin. When he finally looked in her direction, she raised an eyebrow at him, her dark purple lips upturned into a suspicious smile.

She knew his secret. There was no getting past his best friend.

Draco took a big sip of the firewhiskey.

HIs eyes roamed around the room, which happened to be vacant saved for the six of them on the floor. Not many Hogwarts students returned the year after the war, and the majority of the ones that did weren’t very social.

Blaise began rambling about something Draco had no interest in, so he zoned out, his fingers wrapped tightly around his cup of alcohol that had previously belonged to Harry Potter.

What a weird turn of events his life had spiraled into. Less than a year ago, Draco was sure he was going to die in the Room of Requirement, when it was completely engulfed in hot flames during the battle.

He truly thought his life was over, but Harry Potter, dirt-streaked and sweat-stained, swooped in on a broomstick and carried Draco to safety.

And ever since that horrid day, Draco hadn’t been able to completely wipe Potter’s face from his mind.

The only sounds present were the fire crackling in the fireplace and Blaise’s smooth voice, rambling on about Merlin knows what. Draco practically jumped a foot into the air when he felt a hand on his left arm.

“Sorry,” Harry whispered, flicking something onto the carpet with the hand that had just grazed Draco. “You had a thread on your sweater.”

Trying to remain calm and ignore the heart palpitations inside his chest, Draco cleared his throat and mumbled, “It’s okay. Thanks.”

Was it a sin that, after that, all he wanted that night was for Harry to touch him again?

~~~~~

Within a matter of hours, the night had unraveled into an unnerving game of Truth or Dare. 

After about five minutes, Ron had ended up without a shirt and Pansy had already shared a very detailed account of her last date with a girl she’d been seeing. Draco’s blood felt as if it were boiling with anxiety under his skin, and he wished he could just rewind the past couple of hours and retreat back to his warm bed. 

But he couldn’t escape. “Truth or dare, Draco?” Pansy’s voice rang, dripping in sugar and venom.

The alcohol was blurring Draco’s thoughts slightly, but he was still very aware of the close proximity in which Harry was sitting, cross-legged, next to him.

He thought he had dodged a bullet when he answered, “Dare.” He didn’t want to deal with facing his secrets head on in front of everyone.

Pansy’s lips curled upward into a grin, and Draco’s stomach did flips. “I dare you to kiss the most attractive person in the room.”

Fuck.

Everyone else hummed a collective, “Ooooh,” as Draco was forced to face this challenge (which he had never signed up for in the first place).

In attempts to play it safe, Draco moved toward his right - toward Pansy, whom he had always thought of to be nice to look at. But mostly because he hoped she would just help him out with the situation at hand.

It didn’t work, because Pansy leaned backward and Blaise blurted out, “Oh please, Draco, we all know you’re about as straight as the sky is red.”

Ron snickered, and Draco saw Hermione try to hide her smile as well, as she buried her face into Ron’s sweater. He shot them a look with daggers in his eyes before waiting for a reaction from Harry, which never came.

It was at this precise moment that Draco decided to down the rest of the firewhiskey in his cup, as the rest of the eighth-years stared him down. Draco needed as much courage he could possible get if he was going to do what he was about to do.

In one swift movement, Draco threw his empty plastic cup to the floor, scooped Harry Potter’s face into his hands, and kissed him hard on the mouth.

Harry was taken aback, naturally, and Draco felt the brunette’s whole body go rigid. Draco just kissed him harder, because he knew this may be his only chance - he’s never have the right confidence to do this again.

Draco was finally about to pull away, when Harry seemed to regain control of his body and began to kiss him back.

Draco felt like melting right then and there, and he probably would have if it weren’t for the fact that Harry’s face was sitting in his hands. The golden boy’s own hands made their way to Draco’s blonde hair, and it felt like…

Heaven. That was the only word Draco could think of as the two boys moved their lips against one another’s. He wasn’t even religious, but that’s exactly what it felt like to Draco - heaven.

It was sloppy, and wet, and utterly wonderful.

When it was finally over, they pulled away and just stared at each other, for what felt like a lifetime.

The common room was dead silent, as Pansy, Blaise, Hermione, and Ron stared in complete surprise and fascination. Draco had nearly forgotten he had an audience - no, they, had an audience.

Draco wasn’t sure any of them would ever speak again until Blaise finally whispered, “Damn,” his voice sounding low and raspy.

That’s when Draco finally ripped his eyes from Harry’s and looked around at the spectators, who stared back looking quite dumbfounded.

No one had probably ever expected none other than Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy to bump lips, let alone be in the same room and not at each other’s throats.

When Draco looked back at Harry and his forest-green eyes, he was met with Potter’s crooked yet beautiful grin staring him in the face.

Things had changed - Draco could feel it in the air, and certainly in the tingle of his lips. He smiled back at the curly-haired boy. Draco was ready for a change.

#drarry #drarry fic #Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #drarry imagine #writing #lgbtq

[ratherhavetheblues]

INGMAR BERGMAN’S ‘THE MAGICIAN’: “It was war, and the enemy stalked…”

© 2019 by James Clark

     This is a film so dependent upon its sense for Bergman’s previous output, and even for Bergman’s subsequent work, that it sustains the adage, “Go full out, or forget about it entirely.” But adages can be wrong; and here we welcome one and all to a breathtaking tone poem, which we hope can benefit from a few suggestions.

On the face of it, The Magician (1958), features an intense protagonist, leading a crew so heterogeneous as to wonder how their objectives can succeed. They first come to us in the countryside, at a pause in their horse-driven coach. The vehicle is affixed with the sign, “Vogler’s Magic Health Theatre.” The black and white optics induce silhouette along a ridge, the virtual trademark of the film, The Seventh Seal (1957), where a couple, Jof and Marie ply the far-flung roads in a caravan advertising their circus musicale.Those two carnies manage to transcend the deadliness of the ridge (the seduction of death and its happy ending), by virtue of Jof’s blessing of his baby boy, to be a great acrobat and a juggler capable of an impossible trick.Although Jof and Marie made their breakaway in the 12th century, those traces of magic lean heavily upon Vogler, in Sweden, in the 19th century.Therefore, while far from playful banter disturbs the “Health Theatre,” the opportunity to see deeply into the nature of conflict never flags.

During that stopover, two of Vogler’s company, not for the first time, you can be sure, express that they hate what the other loves. A happy-go-lucky marketing and PR director of the caravan’s catchy affairs, namely, Tubal, devours a heavy lunch in the clover. Though earthy to quite a degree, he stunts his better self in order to harry a very old woman (Vogler’s grandmother, in fact) who, in his eyes and nose, reeks of offensive obsolescence.The old lady busies herself with finding herbs for her manufacture of the “health” area of the theatre, while frequently urging her grandson to fire a figure dangerously crude. Leaving aside, for the moment,Vogler and his assistant-showman, as the coach resumes, Tubal, sneers, “You and your mandrake and your severed fingers, and other mischief.” As if she were some kind of relative of the old and opinionated genius, in Bergman’s Smiles of a Summer Night (1955)—actress,Niama Wilstrand covering both roles—she fires back, “Spirits used to howl so loudly in this forest [as did the forest where Jof and Marie parted company with the mainstream] that no one dared enter after sundown. I remember it well…” The canny, though perhaps not fully savvy, one, thinks to prevail by reminding the oldster, and the other two, that he’s the only functional businessman in the coach. “How would Vogler’s Magic Health Theatre manage without Tubal, I ask you…” 

Turning to the stylish and rather impressively silent other two, being obviously the stars of the show, their first coming to us is a very slight vignette of them surveying, on that same ridge, a sort of mine shaft with a ladder reaching out.In the course of  elevating his sense of the salt of the earth, Tubal snaps out, “Who bailed you out in Copenhagen at night, and at risk to his life, after the Danish Tour went to hell?”Though the silent ones fail to shine in the coach, Vogler gives us some indication about his strong suit when the so-called health theatre comes upon a dying man in the lake-land. Granny alone had heard the latter’s cries, and Vogler alone had gone to meet more than irate cops. He gently addresses the alcoholic wreck in question, with, “Good day, sir…” The rescued man without hope replies, “My name is Johan Spegel [mirror].(We’ll have to figure out later if that designation is valid.Moreover, we must also await for the validity of the exchange of “bird catcher” in the moniker, Vogler.Could the boss-man be running on empty?) That the dying man, an actor, readily sees through the elaborate disguise Vogler deploys—panther-black hair and beard, and game-face, black, carriage-trade outlaw to all—somewhat crimps what style there might be. That the dying man soon reveals to Vogler, and to us, his cascading cynicism(detectable before any conversation), allows us to realize that the protagonist, instinctively not sharing the nihilism of the wreck, deploys a chivalry about those who have striven and fallen. (Those who have not striven would be something else. But along with this complication, one of many, there would be the remarkable matter of short cuts to a questionable striving. (A war, indeed; but a war with a bewildering range of theatres.)Pausing on the walk to the coach, the actor/ mirror overacts to the tune of, “I’ve always longed for a knife, a blade to lay bare my entrails, set my brain and heart free, free me from my substance… and cut away my tongue and my manhood. A blade that would carve out all my uncleanliness. Then this so-called spirit would rise up from this meaningless carcass…”

At the last moment of the actor’s screed (now installed in the caravan), he asks Manda, the other careful dresser, about what kind of reading a smart young performer would prefer.The answer, “ a novel about swindlers,” comes as somewhat of a surprise, from such a seemingly serene, almost doe-like centre of  grace.Even more surprise results from Manda’s bitter outlook. “Deception is so prevalent that those who speak the truth are usually branded as the greatest liars…” That elicits, from the reckless negator, a spate of shoot-to-kill. “The author presumes there’s a great general thing called truth, somewhere out there. That theory is pure illusion.” That theory is also pure Tubal, the majoritarian, would-be top-dog in reveling that he’s sitting on a quorum to quell inklings that he doesn’t have what it takes.He sneers at the aristocratic reader (in fact, actress Ingrid Thulin, dressed in male styles), “So much for your reading, Mr. Aman.” Manda fires back, “Mr. Tubal shouldn’t speak with his mouth full…” [a mouth full of hate and raw meat]. That skirmish somewhat consolidates that the dandies have some kind of purchase, however lacking earthy force, upon an exigency prone to embarrassment, while occupying the orbit of, from one angle, the fancy-free untouchable dowager, in Smiles of a Summer Night.

What seemed at first to be a kind of eccentric road saga has developed into a war story. Tubal’s rounding out the argument, with smug recourse to the popular will—“I find this business about truth devilishly interesting. It’s a beautifully passion. My head sits on my neck… That’s an absolute truth, and I like such truths. You’re very amusing. I have no care for the past or the future. I’m a lily of the field”—constitutes a run-up to far more violence, just around the corner. As the actor dies, eliciting from Vogler a sadness, Tubal quips that the corpse is a nuisance for an affair of making a financial  success of the business of imminently wowing the burghers of Stockholm.At this juncture, the coach is imperiously intercepted at a police roadblock, and the company of diverse players comes into another moment of truth. Having been forewarned by virtue of Tubal’s advanced announcement about a magic health theatre, the City’s health watchdog, Dr. Vergerus, along with a pliable police chief and wealthy deletant, Egerman (the name of the lawyer rounded up by Desiree, in Smiles of a Summer Night), stages an inquisition of crimes against holy science—a proponent of literal truth far more single-minded than Tubal.(The proto-Nazi husband/ medic pushing his poetic wife into a mental hospital, in Bergman’s Through a Glass Darkly[1961]iterates the helmsman’s disdain for careless dotage upon overrated and very dangerous idols.)

On being deposited outside of Egerman’s mansion, and left there for a long time(to digest that enemies rule) we come to realize that, whereas the rest of the crew maintain considerable composure, Vogler uses a cane, a pipe and a hunched position.Whereas, particularly, Manda’s face is poised, as if confronting those who don’t know how lucky they are to be in her elevated presence (her directing her eyes upon the detainers, in the wake of the first moment when the notables have their back to them and continue to snigger) and her entering the house having been regal, Vogler is a picture of stress, covering his face with one hand.Hearing from Tubal that Vogler is mute (mute-seeming, for the same effort of synthesis on the part of Elisabet, in Bergman’s, Persona[1966]), the inquest settles for Manda’s account, and it’s not only smooth but revelatory. Vergerus presents evidence that the bad-asses conduct “magic seances.” Looking at the technocrat straight in the eyes, she states, as if the mere thought could never cohere with someone as cool as she is, she tells the attacker, “We didn’t say that,” [the promotional hacks having rushed to childishness].The learned doctor then shifts to the scandalous notion that this rabble presumes to “heal the sick.” During her rather brazen denial of that, we see that Vogler is as unsatisfied as the prosecutor. Though petrified by the audit, that subject of lifting the frail hits, for the strange leader, a nerve, entirely absent in the spokesperson.(What troubling eddies of sensibility have come to stay, over and beyond facile provocation?)Vergerus, nothing if not a facile, but clearly murderous,provocateur, trots out the well-known zeal about the prisoner’s study for the reflections of one, Franz Mesmer (1734-1815), he, of the matter of, “animal magnetism” and “natural energy transference.”The earlier non-banter about “truth” thereby segues toward a more nuanced theatre of sensibility. (I’m reminded here of Tarantino’s The Hateful Eight[2015], to wit, “Nobody said it would be easy.”/ “Nobody said it would be this hard.”)Amidst the crazy bumper-car zone to come, we must be on the look-out, within the spin, for those dramatic ideas turning a bilious plunge into an invigorating discovery.

Not getting anywhere in face of Manda’s sang froid, the special prosecutor uses some hands-on toward Vogler to determine if this terrorist leader can prove that there is any substance to the claim of being bereft of speech—a proof to the contrary being tantamount, in the doctor’s view, of fraud all across the cosmos. (As this third degree becomes necessary, there is a rather remarkable out-of-the-blue by Tubal, shooting down the idea that the business could dabble in “supernatural powers.” Of course, his patented materialism would be a slam-dunk; but, as we close into the heart of the drama, we shall have to adjust to the practical guy being actually more viably uncanny, Mesmer-like, than Vogler and Manda.)The doctor, not accustomed to arguing against his bright lights, performs upon Vogler a scrutiny of his mouth.He shoves the badly-self-possessed but garishly-promoted stranger—having been touted by Tubal as, “a big name on the Continent” [not a welcome idea to a megalomaniac vigilante against non-scientists]—into a chair, grabs a lamp, and orders the target to hold it. Before making his analysis, he delights in reproving, “Why such furious looks? You have no reason to hate me. I only want to ascertain the truth. That should be your wish as well.” The glare in the defendant’s eyes is supplemented by the local big name’s grabbing his rival’s chin, thrusting open his mouth and jerking his subject’s head back. “Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue.” After that, the doctor pushes his mouth closed, and reports, “I find no reason for your muteness.”Hovering over the captive, the chief of health sneers while Vogler leans back, gasping, and then covers his face with his hand. Amidst this humiliation, he’s asked if he would perform inducing a “state.” Vogler nods “yes,” with some vigor; and thus a counter-attack begins to form, not without many difficulty.

In Bergman films we’ve covered over the past year, we’ve seen quite a few riveting instances of “states” or moods, pushing the envelope of “truth.” The Magician, however, would seem to take the cake, inasmuch as its alliances and enmities are forever changing, requiring a true magician to discern where it’s going.The lexicon of dueling—the doctor pressing his expose by means of, “I’m at your disposal”—would seem to be the makings of a climax of such. But Vergerus, after heaping upon Vogler smears like “weak souls” (as to him and his following) and toying with the idea, “You think I hate you. You are wrong. I’m interested in one thing only: you’re physiology, Mr. Vogler… I’d like to perform an autopsy on you, weigh your brain, open up your heart, study your nervous system… take out your eyes”—in supposing having shown immunity to Vogler’s presence—comes into significant fire by the host’s wife, who asks him, “Why are you lying?… We can see you’re lying. Something frightened you terribly, but you don’t dare say what…” This rejoinder having somewhat punctured the gratifications of the town’s big names, the Chief of Police decrees that next morning the less than accomplished outlaw must show what he’s got to give.

Dinner is served; but only for those in formal attire. The troupe is directed to the kitchen where the, servants dine, an exile which involves the tuxedos laughing uproariously. (The hostess, however, declares, “Isn’t it amusing to humiliate defenseless people?” The doctor thinks to put it all fine, on the basis of her husband and him in the midst of a bet about the pros and cons of spirituality, “inexplicable forces.”“By all logic we’d be suddenly forced to reckon with a god.”) We see our voyagers stomping angrily in the shadows of the lower depths. Vogler and Manda stride through the kitchen harboring visions of revenge. Tubal, however, has mastered his initial anger and proceeds to charm the women who cook and clean. The rude exponent of cheap truth now gives us an undemonstrative clinic of wit, grace and primordial juggling! Two young girls working there, Sara and Sanna, are the first to bask in Tubal’s magnanimity. Sara, a year or so older than her friend, advises, regarding the strangers, “Anyway, they have no money. You only need fear the rich.”The calling card for the mover and shaker of the peripatetic show addresses the girls with, “My name is simply Tubal, simple as a folk tune.” The main cook arrives, and Tubal’s charm goes into overdrive, captivating her by his vitality, savoir faire and genuine pleasure to be with her and the girls..Soon Sara is wanting him to read her palm; but he is solicitous of her future possibility being more mature. “I wouldn’t want to stifle your curiosity.”With the senior chef, he provides free “love potion,” eliciting from her, “It makes me hot under the corset…” This draws from him, “I see a light”—abundantly unique amidst this most dark of Bergman’s early works.

While Tubal, having ignited amorous flames amidst all but one of the servants, there is the grandmother, having said nothing since the arrest, taking under her wing (more juggling, which the beautiful people, Vogler and Manda, eschew) the perpetually confused, Sanna, too young and simple for orgies. What she recommends, in the form of a bedtime story, covers much more than a good sleep. Though the girl ingenuously begins with, “You’re so old and ugly” [and a witch], this witch/ oracle can also rise to disinterestedness paralleling and transcending a normal narrative. (This incident also being a specialty of Bergman as a phenomenologist initiating logical problematics far beyond what Yale and Harvard could manage, shackled[like the venomous doctor here] to classical rational rubrics.) “Did you sell your soul,” the naïf asks.“Yes, perhaps I did,” the frail battling-ram smiles. (While this preamble was marching along, Sara , having swallowed some of the suggestiveness, admits, “I felt a funny feeling, especially in my tummy… Now what happens?”) Getting down to the juggling, the witch begins with, “You must wish for things that live, that are alive or will come to be… I’ll sing you a song”[very mindful about Vogler’s plight; a song about Vogler and Vergerus and Manda]. “It was war and the enemy stalked/ On tired legs the soldier walked./ The enemy [including the dying actor] charged from the woods that day/ Our man stood in the thick of the fray/ Knives flashed and blood was spilled/ Many a warrior there [including the hostess] was killed/ The soldier’s face with victory was bright[not, as we’ll see, it did him any good]/ Heavy poured the rain that night[wait for it]/ The soldier sat by himself and wrote/ To his dearest[that is dearest, as in “dearest”] a lengthy note/ Love brings solace/ Love brings rest/ Love brings strength/ To the weakest breast/ Love is one/ Can’t ne’er be twain…”

That remarkable interlude, by someone who is, in fact, the saga’s true magician, spells not only the incisiveness she lives by, but the cave-in of Vogler’s falling short of that magic of a paradoxical “twain” (comprising acrobatics and juggling). The last passage of her song is, “Love is simple. Yet hard to explain.[Vogler trapped in an explanation.]/ It’s going to thunder./ Far, far, far away…”Leaving Sanna to her simple sleep, granny—well aware that she must leave the dead end troupe (even more decisively than the dowager’s cut away from Desiree and her dead end friends, in, Smiles of a Summer Night);and also Tubal, the mixer,now headed to marry the religious cook and probably stay on at the Egerman concern—her hard-won fortune from plants, here and there, and spells, phony and valid, being her ticket to persevere, rounds off her stint in the servant quarter, with an invocation. “I call you down, I call you out,beyond the dead, beyond the living, the living dead.” Here the subject is the dead actor, seen by her to be of use in effecting some kind of escape for a dysfunctional show and, moreover, a dysfunctional marriage.

The denouement can be quickly described. But the relationship between Vogler and Manda is beyond ending.In the night, the power-couple, who couldn’t care less about mere servants,set up their apparatus in hopes of giving the shallow cynic a jolt of blue-chip mood. Mrs. Egerman drops by, Manda cuts out; and Vogler has on his hands the hostess’ delusion that he’s heaven-sent to resolve the pain of her young daughter’s recent death(plunging her, however slightly, beyond routine piety). She assures him her bedroom is out of range for her husband, whom she has also stuffed with sleeping pills. Dragging himself away from a vignette he doesn’t want to be in, he comes upon his and Manda’s designated bedroom, where a slightly tipsy Vergerus has had an eyeful of Manda being a dazzling blonde in her petticoat. From the shadowy hallway he doesn’t discover anything new; but, nevertheless, the world takes a painful step, bereft of the hostess’ shot in the dark. Perhaps  the thrill evident in the mourner by Vogler’s shaky charisma(a possible version of the cliché, “A great man never seems to be so to his wife,”) has something to do about her  tolerating the rat here.Vogler’s wildly inflected wife is in the course of getting off her chest, “Our entire act is a fraud, from start to finish… a miserable rotten lie, through and through… We’re the most pathetic rabble you could find…” (That would somewhat coincide, then, with the intruder’s, “You represent what I despise most of all. The ineffable.”The doctor extracts from her that, “a long time ago” she found some cogency in the-man-in-black’s priorities. But now there’s nothing.)

Just as he gets around to offering her help to his idea of full health,Vogler steps forward, smashes him about and the test becomes a test of the smart guy. Next morning, by virtue of the resource offered by the corpse, the nominal leader of the magic show gets down to business by way of pretending to have died during a rigorous part of the exhibition (involving the Egerman’s coachman, who had muttered, while Tubal was doing his magic, “A face like Vogler’s makes you furious. You want to bash it in…”)With Manda’s assistance, he terrifies Vergerus, whose perfunctory autopsy comes back to bite him. Using body parts and aural and optical features, he nearly murders the hated opponent, only dodging a homicide conviction by way of Manda’s intervention of common sense.

This film anticipates Bergman’s Winter Light (1963), where a charge of cosmic dynamite dribbles down to a rather tepid long shot. But, when all is said and done, The Magician is in a league of its own.It portrays, in the grandmother, a canny mystic, almost validly  inured to hidden isolation.During that prophetic downpour, she is the first to depart the shell-shocked manor, entering the coach in order to indict the poor form of Vogler and Manda.Then she hits the road; but not until describing the fortune in her purse, the rewards of her delighting in the earth and a polyglot clientele. Something she doesn’t tell them, but something we should know, is what drives her on.She is far from alone, in her preferences, though she clearly has never, in her long life, encountered her ilk. Consider the regime of solitaire for the dowager in Smiles of a Summer Night. Her hovering over the cards while secured by pillows involves a taste for order, to be sure; but at the same time, there is a premium upon silence and stillness, irrespective of the fate of the game. Despite the optics of stasis, the addressing of the situation comprises ripples of initiative, a cosmos she has had much to do in its making. While her disappointing daughter stars in a questionable firmament of gluey childishness, the elderly hostess beholds beauties on the go, headed for extinction, felt as a gift. The grandmother/ witch lacks the oracle’s ease; but loves her hardships in the same frisson. (Jof and Marie, in, The Seventh Seal, are a mixed bag—he a poet, she a practical mom. But, during their dash for the sake of the new, the lonely new finds them on the same page [evincing how often we all, however slightly, prefer an outlaw life]).

On the other hand, the former lions of Lyon crash infamously.In the wake of Vogler’s unbecoming revenge, he becomes mired in asking the notables (including Mrs. Egerman) for spare change.They reach the coach, feel the scorn of their relative by-marriage; and find that their coachman has (after a brief notion of his and his sweetheart to resume, for what it’s worth, the magic of the open road) decided to stay with Sara in the kitchen. With no horse-power in sight, the magic stars come to us in a total doldrum. Whereas the dowager could reign sprightly on her bed, to great aplomb, Vogler and Manda resort to sterile fantasy. They see themselves summoned by the king to a command performance. The first stage of this coup, that isn’t, involves the notables, back at the Egerman mansion, now having become their fans.

Instead of standing pat with the loners—a conclusion somewhat out of whack with the fine juggling of Tubal and granny and sundry others—let’s listen some more to that barely-marriaged couple. (I find in Bergman’s scenes of chilling devastation, the demand to attend to recuperative strengths—on the basis of a comprehensive courage. As we listen to them, we’re listening to their tolerance for disappearing. Frid, the savvy servant, in Smiles of a Summer Night, coins the term, “punishment,” for the situation of full-scale , reflective love.) There is a gambit, in that dialogue with Vergerus, in which the divided woman goes some distance to put into play the state of affairs she finds herself in.In the midst of her expressing her hatred of her métier, she touches upon how her life had been elevated by “the nightmare.” “He has no secret powers?” the vigilante asks. “No, perhaps not,” she answers, in total confusion. Therefore, we get, rather predictably, “It’s meaningless…” “So I can put my mind at ease?” the scientist asks. “Yes, put your mind at ease… We can demonstrate our incompetence as often as you like…”(Wallowing in her own incompetence, being, it seems, in the vein of Vogler’s subsequent panhandler role.) The intruder reads her dissatisfaction, notwithstanding, “You seem to regret that fact and wish it were otherwise. But there are no miracles… God is silent, while men babble on.” She can’t resist saying, “If  just once…” [the ecstatic could prevail]. The doctor, misdiagnosing the phenomenon to be a lift by a supernatural gift-giver, smugly prates, “That’s what they all say” [all he knows; but not all she knows].

After the doctor leaves—sneering at the idea of Vogler being a doctor (but without comprehending that the latter’s purchase is far from an exact science)—there is left in the air the hopeless impasse with Vergerus: “You think your husband wants to kill me? Do you want to kill me, Mr. Vogler? You hate me. I like you. Quite stimulating!” After slamming the door and smashing his head repeatedly upon it, he tears off the disguise and joins her in bed, far from the first time this impasse has flared.Their conflict has more to do with acrobatics lost than mere treachery, and, as such, their distemper resembles a death spiral. Whereas his face shows anguish, her’s is impassive.Lying behind where he lies. she kisses his head. Mustering a somewhat ironical smile, she purrs, “Remember in Lyon, where we earned lots of money?” [at what line of work, the question is], and bought a country house and intended to stop traveling… Then we sold the property and bought the carriage and horses… That’s where you started acting mute[another version to come, in Persona, for the sake of progressing into the labyrinth of truth, the ways of the cosmos]. Remember the Grand Duke—a less than grand duke appears in Smiles of a Summer Night–who was so taken by me that he promised to recommend us to his Majesty in Sweden? You thought I’d been unfaithful, and you gave the Duke a thrashing. We sat in prison for two months until he forgave us. Do you think he recommended us to the Swedish court, anyway?” His reply is silence.She continues, “No, I don’t think so, either.” All he can muster, with the field of acrobatics and juggling defeating him, is, “I hate them. I hate their faces, their bodies, their movements, their voices… But I get frightened, too, and then I lose my power…”With Vogler’s virtual surrender to the appalling, she thrusts her assets, “What if I left you?” “Go on, if you want. It makes no difference…”

We have been privy to other figures under similar pressures, under the auspices of phenomena the uncanniness of which has begun to chafe creatures like the doctor.This film seems to involve, however, a drama, as never before and never later, demanding full attention to the factor of horrific odds, slicing away, like barracudas, upon those who would venture to put into play“faces,” visages and bodies, moving into a sense of integrity confusing to nearly all of the population. Furtive figures, like the lady abandoning the demoralized couple, represent a shadowy agency for initiatives needful by nature itself. But why couldn’t there be buoyant partnerships instead of mere escapees?Impossible juggling tricks carry far, given range and spunk. Bergman’s cinema, transcending political tallies, draws upon viewers who have allowed themselves to be part of the show in a remarkable way.That allowance demands special courage, but courage encouraged by inspiring creatures and other magical things.

(Further complicating an already very subtle and rigorous reflective task, is the widespread nonsense that The Magician amounts to a mea culpa about Bergman’s being humbled in a fraudulent, pointless attempt to surpass common sense.Bergman may be famously a Byzantine husband, a constant health crisis and a vicious employer. But along the way he cultivated constructs far surpassing most Nobel Prize winners. He had nothing to be embarrassed about in his work.)

By way of reiterating the test of physicality embarrassing Vogler and Manda—holed up in the carriage and biting their fists, coming down to servant-Sara’s brief whim to get into a circus and thereby get the show on the road—we have the herbalist’s final goodbye: “I always said you were a foolish and reckless man. One should know one’s limitation” [and drop the idiocy of becoming another pope].

#ingmar bergman

[lovemesomesurveys]

Have you ever been proposed to? No.

What would you consider your life to be? Frustrating. Stressful. Depressing. I am blessed to have my family, food to eat, and a roof over my head, which I am grateful for, but I have my issues.

Can you think of one person you call anytime and you know they will help? My mom, but I wouldn’t have to call her (unless she’s at work, obvs) because we live together and she already always has my back.

What is your favorite mark of punctuation? I don’t have one.

Can you roll your tongue into a clover? Nope. I can’t do any tricks with my tongue, sorry.

How much Irish do you have in you? I’m not sure, but I do have some in me.

Ever looked into your family heritage? Yeah.

Does the band Seventh Day Slumber appear on your iPod? I use the Spotify app on my phone to listen to music, but no that band does appear on any of my playlists. I don’t even know who they are.

What kind of computer do you have? A MacBook.

Do you know anyone who’s name is Noah? Yes, one of my cousins.

When is the last time you ate a bagel? I have no idea. It’s been awhile. There was a time I was like obsessed with bagels and strawberry cream cheese. There were these Lunchable type things (it was a different brand, but same thing) that had mini bagels with both strawberry and regular cream cheese; it was quite good.

Ever thought of signing up for an online dating site? No.

Rock Band. You like it? Yes. I’ve actually recently thought about getting it.

Play Guitar Hero? I have, but it’s been years. Same with Rock Band, but I’ve been wanting to play again.

How many wallets/purses do you own? A few.

Ever shopped at Rue 21? Like once.

Do you think you have ever been in love? If so, with whom? Yes, twice.

How many surveys do you take in a day? Maybe like 3 or 4 on average. Sometimes more.

What size shoe do you wear? Size six.

This weekend, did you see “that” someone that makes you smile It hasn’t been this weekend, yet, but I don’t have “that” someone that makes me smile.

Why did you last cry? Lifeeee.

Be honest, who is the easiest person in your life to talk to? You guys, ha.

Has anyone made you feel like crap lately for something they did? Not lately, no.

When was the last time you took a nap? The other day.

Do you think about anyone before you go to bed? I think about a lot of things.

Do you like road trips? Yes.

Do you tend to waste a lot of money? I spend too much on food.

Is it usually easy for someone to make you smile? Yes.

Is tomorrow going to be a good day? I imagine it’ll likely be like every other day.

Ever cried on the phone to somebody? Yes.

Who’s hoodie did you wear last? My own.

Would you say you’re an understanding person? Yes. Maybe too understanding at times?

Do you hate being alone? Sometimes. It depends. I need alone time, but I don’t like being alone for a long time. I don’t like being lonely.

Is your room clean? Yes.

Do you use chapstick? Yeah.

Are you dating the last person you said, “I love you” to? No, I’m most definitely not dating my mom.

Were you happy when you woke up today? I never wake up happy or feeling much of anything except for tired and achy.

Do you believe that if you want something bad enough you’ll get it? No. You can’t just want something, you have to work towards it and take the necessary steps.

Would you ever smile at a stranger? I do if we make eye contact or they smile at me.

Do you know anyone who is pregnant? No.

Would you rather sleep for 3 days, or stay awake for 3 days? Sleep for 3 days.

Would you rather choose truth, or dare while playing “truth or dare”? Truth.

Do you like someone? Not in that way.

Do you miss the way things use to be? I miss the way a lot of things used to be, yes.

How’s your love life? Non-existent.

How often do you hold back from saying what you are thinking? A lot of the time.

The last person you texted is the person a he or a she? A she. Speaking of that, yesterday I realized hours later that I used the wrong word in one of my texts and then it really bothered me. Like, not only did I realize it much later, but I had sent other texts to that person after the text with the wrong word. I’d have to be like, “Oh hey, so a few texts back I said “X”, but I actually meant to say “Y.” Just wanted to clear that up.”  Sounds ridiculous, I know, but I’m still thinking about it. Haha.

Would you rather text or MSN? Text. I don’t have MSN. I never have.

Could you go a day without eating? I have.

Do you think you’ll be married in 10 years? No. Probably never. I probably won’t even be in a relationship.

Ever cried till you threw up? No, but I’ve gagged.

Have you ever slept in the same bed as your friend? Yes.

Do you use the word ‘epic’ daily? No. I rarely use that word.

Do you get freaked out when you’re in the dark? Yes.

Will you have sexual intercourse within the next week or two? Nope.

Is there anything you should be worried about? I’m always worried about something, whether I should be or not. That’s just how I am.

You’re up after 3 AM, what’s the reason? I’ve been up until 4AM lately because I can’t sleep.

Are you in a relationship with anyone? No.

Who was the last person to text you “hello”? *shrug*

What were you doing 2 hours ago? Drinking coffee and eating a white chocolate fudge Ding Dong.

What will/did you do today? My brother is taking me to Target after he gets home from school, and afterwards I’ll probably get Starbucks. And food.

Is smoking a turn off? Yeah.

Has a boyfriend/girlfriend ever put alcohol/drugs before you? No.

Are you someone who enjoys seeking attention from others? I like some attention, I mean I think a lot of people do. I don’t really go seeking it, though.

Why aren’t you dating the last person who you texted? Because she’s my Nana...

How open are you with people, out of 10? Not very open at all, unless I’m taking a survey.

Do you enjoy reading? Yes, I love it.

What are your parents doing right now? They’re asleep.

What is your dream car? I don’t have one.

Do you like Olive Garden? Yeah.

Are you thinking about someone right now? No, not really.

What was the last thing you ate? A white chocolate fudge Ding Dong.

Were you single on your last birthday? Yes.

Are your nails painted? Nope.

Does seeing couples in love make you mad? No. I get a little envious at times, but I don’t get mad, sheesh. .

Have you ever felt like you literally needed someone? Yes. I do.

Has anybody told you that you have nice eyes? Yeah.

Do you wish that you were somewhere else right now? Somewhere on vacation, sure.

Is the person you last texted single? No. She has been with my Papa for decades. Not everyone person someone texts is a friend or something they’re dating/talking to, you know. For me, the only texts I get are from family members.

Is your birthday on a holiday? My birthday is a holiday, thank you very much.

lol.

What are you wearing on your feet? Socks.

Last dream you had: *shrug*

Who did you last yell at and why? I don’t know. I’m not a yeller.

What your favorite thing to have on toast? Butter or peanut butter.

Did you eat a cookie today? Not so far, no.

Are your bedroom walls a different color than white? Nope.

What’s the last thing you touched, other than your computer? My bed.

What if someone asked you to be in a relationship with them? I’d have to decline. Although, it would be hard for me if that someone was Ty. I say I don’t like anyone right now and things are all messed up and complicated, but we reconnected again and things were going well... I don’t know what I would do. I feel like it wouldn’t be a good time for me to enter a relationship because of stuff I’m dealing with, and I don’t know if I could give my all to someone and be there for them. Timing has never been on our side; though, when it comes to him and I. I just don’t know. I don’t have to think much about this because it’s not going to happen, so....

Are you too hot, too cold or just right at the moment? I’m fine.

Would you rather it be sunny or rainy? Rainy.

Will you be in a relationship in the next month? No.

How old are you? Twenty-seven.

Do you plan on taking your husband’s last name if you ever marry? I don’t know if I’ll ever marry, but I must admit that I like my last name. I would probably hyphenate.

At what age did you get the sex talk? I’m not sure, exactly. Maybe 12?

What’s your favorite kind of alcohol? I don’t drink.

Ever been in a near death situation? Explain: Yes, twice. My accident that made me a paraplegic being the first time, and the second time was during a surgical procedure.

What is your biggest weakness? Myself.

Do you live near the ocean? About two hours away.

Do you cry easily? Yes.

How many kids do you want to have, if any? I don’t know if I want any.

Where did you go on your last date? To a restaurant.

Are you a virgin? Yes.

Do you smoke cigarettes? Nope.

What did you last dream about? *shrug*

What do you think about long distance relationships? I don’t know.

Have you ever been in the “friend zone”? Yeppp. Even when they act interested in you, flirt with you, make out with you and stuff, and play with your emotions, they can still friend zone you...

What’s your favorite animal? Giraffes!

Scene kids, opinions? Do you.

How far out of your age bracket would you date? I don’t know, honestly. Just a few years.

Have you ever had an STD? No.

What do you think it feels like to die? I’d rather not think about that.

 Is the area you live in more liberal or conservative? I live in a blue state.

Have you ever intentionally harmed yourself? Yes.

What’s in your pocket right now? Nothing. I don’t use ‘em.

Are you currently barefoot? Nope.

Eating or drinking anything? What? Water.

Do you keep anything from a past relationship? (gifts, letters, etc) Yeah.

Are you tan? Nope.

How many siblings do you have? Names? Two.

What would you do if you were pregnant now? That would be impossible right now.

Have you ever peed in public? No.

How many piercings do you have and what? Just my earlobes.

Have you ever tried pho? No.

What’s your favorite day of the week? I don’t have a favorite day of the week.

Do you know anyone who’s bipolar? Yes.

Do you have a lot of emotional baggage? Yes.

Describe the last party you went to: My cousin’s baby shower last September.

Who knows how to cheer you up? I don’t know. My dog was the one who could do that. :(

Will you kiss anyone within the next 24 hours? Nope.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

[gunboatbaylodge]

Things to Do in Vancouver this Weekend: July 20, 2017

This weekend you can tickle the exhibitionist inside of you either with a lack of clothing at the Naked Bike Ride, or with a fancy hat (and clothing for the rest of your body as well) at the Deighton Cup. It’s also Shark Week at the Aquarium, the beginning of the Drum is Calling Festival, the African Descent Festival, and Pride Sports day is on Saturday!

Friday | Saturday | Sunday | Ongoing

Friday July 21

BC Lions vs. Blue Bombers

BC Lions vs. Blue Bombers Where: BC Place Stadium What: It’s football – eat, drink, yell, paint yourself orange and black maybe, be entertained.

Playland Nights Where: Playland What: It’s Playland like you (or maybe just I) have always wanted it. Adults only, no kids, alcohol available. And rides!

Indigenous Plant Use Where: Stanley Park What: Walk through the forest with an experienced guide of Coast Salish descent and learn about the traditional and present-day Indigenous relationships with local flora and fauna. While there will be no collecting on these tours, Stanley Park offers a perfect setting to learn about sustainable harvesting. Runs until: Friday August 25, 2017 (Fridays)

Les Contes d’Hoffmann Where: The Cultch What: In a crowded tavern, the poet Hoffmann, urged on by his fellow drinkers, recounts the stories of his wildest, most outrageous loves and losses. Runs until: Saturday July 22, 2017

Magic Giant

Magic Giant Where: Fox Cabaret What: An LA-based alt-folk trio.

Canada 150: Canada Goes Pacific Where: Granville Island What: The Centre culturel francophone de Vancouver presents a three-day program of enriching and significant artistic and cultural experiences in French with both indoor and outdoor activities and shows. Runs until: Thursday July 27, 2017

Sports Where: The Biltmore What: Oklahoma dream pop.

Solaris

Solaris Where: The Cinematheque What: Adapted from Polish author Stanisław Lem’s novel, Tarkovsky’s metaphysical epic is often described as the “Soviet 2001”. A guilt-ridden psychologist is sent to investigate strange occurrences on a space station orbiting Solaris, a mysterious planet with a sentient Ocean. Confronted by the incarnation of his long-dead wife, he is forced to relive the greatest moral failures of his past. A brilliant exploration of love, truth, and what it means to be human. Runs until: Monday July 24, 2017

From the Land of the Moon

From the Land of the Moon Where: VanCity Theatre What: Gabrielle comes from a small village in the South of France, at a time when her dream of true love is considered scandalous, and even a sign of insanity. Her parents marry her to José, an honest and loving Spanish farm worker who they think will make a respectable woman of her. Despite José’s devotion to her, Gabrielle vows that she will never love José and lives like a prisoner bound by the constraints of conventional post-World War II society until the day she is sent away to a cure in the Alps to heal her kidney stones. There she meets André Sauvage (Louis Garrel), a dashing injured veteran of the Indochinese War, who rekindles the passion buried inside her. Runs until: Thursday July 27, 2017

  Saturday July 22

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The Drum is Calling Festival

The Drum is Calling Festival Where: Various Locations What: Immerse yourself in this nine-day festival of Indigenous and diverse arts and culture. Highlighting the festival will be stellar performances from iconic artists such as singer-songwriter Buffy Sainte-Marie, PowWowStep creator DJ Shub, singer-songwriter Chantal Kreviazuk, country sensation Crystal Shawanda, Juno Award winner William Prince, rising R&B star George Leach, genre-defying artist Kinnie Star, literary giant Tomson Highway, and powerful spoken word poet Shane Koyczan. Runs until: Sunday July 30, 2017

Shark Week at the Vancouver Aquarium

Shark Week at the Vancouver Aquarium Where: Vancouver Aquarium What: During Shark Week, Aquarium visitors can dive into the world of sharks and stingrays, learn about their unique characteristics, gain a better understanding of the challenges they face in the wild, as well as how to help through fin-tastic programs and activities. Runs until: Sunday July 30, 2017

Deighton Cup | Image via The Georgia Straight

Deighton Cup Where: Hastings Racecourse What: Get fancy, choose your best hat, and watch the horse races. All tickets to The Deighton Cup include a lunch prepared by some of Vancouver’s finest chefs, access to the Marquee and Concourse area, as well as the lounge of leisure, picnic area, cigar lounge and champagne stage.

Pride Sports Day Where: Second Beach What: A fun, active, and inclusive day of celebration at Second Beach. This is event free to the public, family-friendly, and will include live music, a variety of sports and recreational activities, a 19+ beer garden, a sober picnic space hosted by Last Door Recovery Society, vendors, food trucks and community groups.

African Descent Festival

African Descent Festival Where: Various Locations What: The African Descent Festival is intended to celebrate the cultural diversity of people of African Descent within Vancouver, while recognizing and promoting attitudes of oneness among all ethnic groups and communities. The event focuses on activating public spaces and bringing a diverse range of programming to connect stakeholders working avidly for the long term sustainability of this population. Runs until: Sunday July 23, 2017

Peak Yoga on Grouse Mountain

Peak Yoga on Grouse Mountain Where: Grouse Mountain What: Enjoy 60 minute yoga classes led by YYoga instructors, every Saturday and Sunday from 10:00-11:00 am. Whether you need a great post-Grind cool down or would just love to experience a different yoga venue at one of the city’s most spectacular locations, these 60-minute class are bound to enhance your physical well-being and kick start your weekend. Runs until: Sunday August 27, 2017

Velo Disco

Velo Disco Where: Second Beach What: Bring your bicycle and prepare for an upbeat exploration with music and flashing lights. Party while overlooking bridges, causeways, and lakes.

Michael Jackson HIStory Show

Michael Jackson HIStory Show Where: The Vogue What: A musical tribute and live concert experience that journeys through Michael Jackson’s vast catalogue of work including his beginnings as a member of the Jackson 5, his groundbreaking theatrics in the 80s and his evolution onward into the 21st century.

World Naked Bike Ride | Image courtesy of Carlos Felipe Pardo | Flickr.com

World Naked Bike Ride Where: Downtown Vancouver What: If you’ve got guts, the ride is open for anyone to join, with a dress code of as bare as you dare. Even if you’re more comfortable in just wearing a bathing suit, you’re free to join the festivities.

Discovering the Seaside Where: Stanley Park What: Enjoy long walks on the beach? Let it take on a new dimension as you learn about life forms along the shoreline and their complex environment. Get to know the intertidal zone and how tides, sun exposure, beach walkers like yourselves, and—in the long run—climate change affect this fascinating habitat.

Divine: Drag Disco Party Where: The Fox Cabaret What: A time warp of opulence, hedonism, and whimsy from the Studio 54 era.

  Sunday July 23

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Grown Ups Read Things They Wrote As Kids

Grown Ups Read Things They Wrote As Kids Where: The Rio Theatre What: Do you still have any of your childhood or teenage writing? Grownups Read Things They Wrote as Kids is an open-mic evening of book reports, poetry, diary entries, letters from camp, etc. — all read out loud by adults to a room full of strangers.

Jack Johnson

Jack Johnson Where: Deer Lake Park What: Soft acoustic rock by a  former professional surfer.

Summer Jam at Trout Lake

Summer Jam at Trout Lake Where: Trout Lake What: This is an inclusive community event for people wanting to jam with strangers. Or friends. Or both.  A PA, drum kit and some amps are provided for drop-ins, BYO any other instruments. Hula hoopers, acro-yogis, people with devilsticks slackliners, and circus festies are also invited. 

Vancouver Whitecaps vs. Portland Timbers

Vancouver Whitecaps vs. Portland Timbers Where: BC Place Stadium What:Watch some soccer, wave around a souvenir scarf, yell for the team you like.

  Ongoing

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Les Contes d’Hoffmann Where: The Cultch What: In a crowded tavern, the poet Hoffmann, urged on by his fellow drinkers, recounts the stories of his wildest, most outrageous loves and losses. Runs until: Saturday July 22, 2017

The Phantom of the Opera Where: Queen Elizabeth Theatre What: Critics are raving that this breathtaking production is bigger and better than ever before – featuring a brilliant new scenic design by Paul Brown, Tony Award-winning original costume design by Maria Björnson, lighting design by Tony Award winner Paule Constable, new choreography by Scott Ambler, and a new staging by director Laurence Connor. Runs until: Sunday July 23, 2017

African Descent Festival

African Descent Festival Where: Various Locations What: The African Descent Festival is intended to celebrate the cultural diversity of people of African Descent within Vancouver, while recognizing and promoting attitudes of oneness among all ethnic groups and communities. The event focuses on activating public spaces and bringing a diverse range of programming to connect stakeholders working avidly for the long term sustainability of this population. Runs until: Sunday July 23, 2017

This is Our Youth Where: Red Gate Revue Stage What: A  darkly humorous, bittersweet portrait of youth poised on the cusp of the scary, disillusioning path to adulthood. In Trump-era New York City, three privileged Upper West Side kids – the swaggering, drug-dealing Dennis; his dispirited, free-thinking best friend and whipping boy, Warren; and confused, self-conscious fashion student Jessica – hang out, smoke pot, scheme for cash, challenge each other, and make tentative steps towards an authentic, vulnerable connection, all in a period of less than twenty-four hours in Dennis’ apartment. Runs until: Sunday July 23, 2017

Solaris

Solaris Where: The Cinematheque What: Adapted from Polish author Stanisław Lem’s novel, Tarkovsky’s metaphysical epic is often described as the “Soviet 2001”. A guilt-ridden psychologist is sent to investigate strange occurrences on a space station orbiting Solaris, a mysterious planet with a sentient Ocean. Confronted by the incarnation of his long-dead wife, he is forced to relive the greatest moral failures of his past. A brilliant exploration of love, truth, and what it means to be human. Runs until: Monday July 24, 2017

From the Land of the Moon

From the Land of the Moon Where: VanCity Theatre What: Gabrielle comes from a small village in the South of France, at a time when her dream of true love is considered scandalous, and even a sign of insanity. Her parents marry her to José, an honest and loving Spanish farm worker who they think will make a respectable woman of her. Despite José’s devotion to her, Gabrielle vows that she will never love José and lives like a prisoner bound by the constraints of conventional post-World War II society until the day she is sent away to a cure in the Alps to heal her kidney stones. There she meets André Sauvage (Louis Garrel), a dashing injured veteran of the Indochinese War, who rekindles the passion buried inside her. Runs until: Thursday July 27, 2017

The Drum is Calling Festival

The Drum is Calling Festival Where: Various Locations What: Immerse yourself in this nine-day festival of Indigenous and diverse arts and culture. Highlighting the festival will be stellar performances from iconic artists such as singer-songwriter Buffy Sainte-Marie, PowWowStep creator DJ Shub, singer-songwriter Chantal Kreviazuk, country sensation Crystal Shawanda, Juno Award winner William Prince, rising R&B star George Leach, genre-defying artist Kinnie Star, literary giant Tomson Highway, and powerful spoken word poet Shane Koyczan. Runs until: Sunday July 30, 2017

Shark Week at the Vancouver Aquarium

Shark Week at the Vancouver Aquarium Where: Vancouver Aquarium What: During Shark Week, Aquarium visitors can dive into the world of sharks and stingrays, learn about their unique characteristics, gain a better understanding of the challenges they face in the wild, as well as how to help through fin-tastic programs and activities. Runs until: Sunday July 30, 2017

Robson Square Salsa Where: Robson Square What: An annual series of free outdoor salsa dances. Learn, have fun, and show off your moves. Runs until: Sunday August 13, 2017

Ensemble Theatre Festival

Ensemble Theatre Festival Where: Jericho Arts Centre What: Featuring a cast of emerging and established actors performing In the Next Room, A Prayer for Owen Meany, and Master Class, by directors new and returning to the festival: Keltie Forsyth, Ian Farthing, and Evan Frayne. Runs until: Friday August 18, 2017

Oh, Canada – The True North Strong and Funny

Oh, Canada – The True North Strong and Funny Where: The Improv Centre on Granville Island What: Based on audience suggestions, the cast lampoon such Canadian ‘institutions’ as Heritage Minutes, the Mounties, winter, our hunky Prime Minister, hockey, and lumberjacks or other endless possibilities. As this is improv and the show is made up on the spot, no two shows are ever the same. Join us for some distinctively Canadian laughs. You’ll be nicer for it. Runs until: Saturday August 19, 2017

Theatre Under the Stars | Photo by Tim Matheson

Theatre Under the Stars Where: Stanley Park What: Enjoy a delightful dose of entertainment this summer with two Broadway musicals. Mary Poppins and The Drowsy Chaperone will be performed live at the Malkin Bowl. A beloved Vancouver tradition since 1940, TUTS 2017 season promises song & dance in two family-friendly productions celebrating love and imagination. Runs until: Saturday August 19, 2017

Kitsilano Showboat

Kitsilano Showboat Where: Kits beach What: Almost anything can happen at this family friendly showcase of amateur talent dating back to 1935. Runs until: Saturday August 19, 2017

Live Carving of Stó:lō Welcome Figures

Live Carving of Stó:lō Welcome Figures Where: Tourism Chilliwack Visitor Centre (Chilliwack, BC) What: Terry Horne, artist and Chief from Yakweakwioose band, is carving two Stó:lō Welcome Figures at the Chilliwack Visitor Centre. Runs until: August 2017

Indigenous Plant Use Where: Stanley Park What: Walk through the forest with an experienced guide of Coast Salish descent and learn about the traditional and present-day Indigenous relationships with local flora and fauna. While there will be no collecting on these tours, Stanley Park offers a perfect setting to learn about sustainable harvesting. Runs until: Friday August 25, 2017 (Fridays)

Story Walks

Story Walks Where: The Shipyards and in Lynn Canyon Park What: Free drop-in walks at The Shipyards are offered Saturdays and Sundays at 11 am and 1:30 pm. Meet at Lonsdale Ave. and Victory Ship Way. Free drop-in walks in Lynn Canyon Park are offered Wednesdays and Thursdays from July 6th to August 24th at 11 am and 1:30 pm. Meet across from the Lynn Canyon Café. Runs until: Sunday August 27, 2017

Peak Yoga on Grouse Mountain

Peak Yoga on Grouse Mountain Where: Grouse Mountain What: Enjoy 60 minute yoga classes led by YYoga instructors, every Saturday and Sunday from 10:00-11:00 am. Whether you need a great post-Grind cool down or would just love to experience a different yoga venue at one of the city’s most spectacular locations, these 60-minute class are bound to enhance your physical well-being and kick start your weekend. Runs until: Sunday August 27, 2017

Dance in Transit Where: Various outdoor locations What: A continuous supply of dancing during the warm months —at no cost. Watch it, try it, and see if you love it. Runs until: Sunday August 27th, 2017

Xi Xanya Dzam – Those Who Are Amazing At Making Things Where: The Bill Reid Gallery What: Xi Xanya Dzam (pronounced hee hun ya zam) is the Kwak’wala word describing incredibly talented and gifted people who create works of art. The exhibition is both a showcase and a critical exploration of ‘achievement’ and ‘excellence’ in traditional and contemporary First Nations art. Runs until: Sunday September 4, 2017

Pictures From Here

Pictures From Here Where: Vancouver Art Gallery What: Featuring photographs and video works from the early 1960s to the present that capture the urban environment of the Greater Vancouver region, its citizens and the vast “natural” landscape of the province. Runs until: Sunday September 4, 2017

  Jaad Kuujus: Meghann O’Brien

Jaad Kuujus: Meghann O’Brien Where: Bill Reid Gallery What: Meghann takes materials from the natural world and transforms them into pieces of high-level human expression. Working with traditional materials such as mountain goat wool and cedar bark has given her a deep connection to the supernatural world, a connection to her ancestors. She describes working with cedar bark as, “travelling back in time” or “touching the cosmos”. Her creations have a profound impact within contemporary Northwest Coast art and beyond. Runs until: September 2017

Sunday Art Market

Sunday Art Market Where: Jim Deva Plaza What: Local artists, vendors and makers, largely from Vancouver’s West End, along with musical and other live performances and artist-led workshops to drop into. Runs until: September 2017

Panda International Night Market Where: Richmond, BC What: A diverse market in Richmond, with shopping, food, beverages, and a game zone. Runs until: Monday September 11, 2017

Flora and Fauna: A Summer Art Show Where: The Fall Tattooing and Artist Studio What: An artistic summer celebration of all vibrant, colourful, living things. Runs until: Friday September 15, 2017

Bard on the Beach Shakespeare Festival

Bard on the Beach Shakespeare Festival Where: Vanier Park What: What do you say to watching a live production of Much Ado About Nothing, The Winter’s Tale, The Merchant of Venice or The Two Gentlemen of Verona in a custom-built tent on the beach while sipping wine, beer, and munching on a picnic lunch themed to the play? Yes! Right? After 28 years, this festival has hit a stride of near perfection (and don’t even get us started on the amazing costumes.) Runs until: Saturday September 23, 2017

A Sublime Vernacular: The Landscape Paintings of Levine Flexhaug

A Sublime Vernacular: The Landscape Paintings of Levine Flexhaug Where: Contemporary Art Gallery What: The first overview of the extraordinary career of Levine Flexhaug (1918 – 1974), born in the Treelon area near Climax, Saskatchewan. It brings together approximately 450 of the artist’s paintings as well as several of his mural-sized works. An itinerant painter, he sold thousands of variations of essentially the same landscape painting in national parks, resorts, department stores and bars across western Canada from the late 1930s through the early 1960s. Runs until: Sunday September 24, 2017

Unbelievable

Unbelievable Where: The Museum of Vancouver What: This exhibition poses provocative questions about our perception of stories by assembling iconic artifacts, storied replicas, and contested objects for a mind-bending exploration of the role stories play in defining lives and communities – and what happens when we question the tales we’ve long relied upon. Unbelievable objects include the Thunderbird totem pole that appeared in controversial filmmaker Edward Curtis’ 1906 work In the Land of the Head Hunters; contemporary ‘totems’, each with contrasting stories about a point in time in Vancouver; and artifacts illustrating the complex narrative around Vancouver’s relationship with First Nations communities. Runs until: Sunday September 24, 2017

Uninterrupted

Uninterrupted Where: Under the Cambie Street Bridge What: After dusk, audiences will witness the extraordinary migration of wild Pacific salmon in a 30-minute cinematic spectacle that explores the connection between nature and our urban environments. Runs until: Sunday September 24, 2017

Be Polite

Be Polite Where: Contemporary Art Gallery What: Working closely with the Estate of Gordon Bennett and IMA Brisbane the exhibition will comprise a selection of rare works on paper including drawing, painting, watercolour, poetry, and essays from the early 1990s through to the early 2000s. Runs until: Sunday September 24, 2017

Works by Anna Milton

Works by Anna Milton Where: VanDusen Gardens What: Anna has been exhibiting and selling her work internationally since her college years. She trained and worked as an art therapist for many years and is interested in symbols and metaphor that are present in visual art. Runs until: Wednesday September 27, 2017

Shipyards Night Marlet

Shipyards Night Market Where: Lonsdale, North Vancouver What: Food, art, music, entertainment, shopping, a beer garden, and you can bring your dog! Runs until: September 29, 2017

ZimCarvings Where: VanDusen Botanical Garden What: Patrick Sephani along with visiting artist Peter Kananji will be showcasing works from over 30 Zimbabwean stone sculptors on the beautiful garden grounds and carving stone sculptures on site.  All works will be available for purchase. Runs until: Saturday September 30, 2017

Claude Monet’s Secret Garden

Claude Monet’s Secret Garden Where: Vancouver Art Gallery What: The most comprehensive exhibition of French painter Claude Monet’s work in Canada in two decades, Claude Monet’s Secret Garden will trace the career of this pivotal figure in Western art history. This exhibition will present thirty-eight paintings spanning the course of Monet’s long career from the unparalleled collection of the Musée Marmottan Monet, Paris. Runs until: Sunday October 1, 2017

Stephen Shore: The Giverny Portfolio

Stephen Shore: The Giverny Portfolio Where: Vancouver Art Gallery What: Twenty-five photographs by contemporary American photographer Stephen Shore produced during several visits to Impressionist painter Claude Monet’s famous gardens at Giverny, France. Showing concurrently with the exhibition Claude Monet’s Secret Garden, Stephen Shore: The Giverny Portfolio offers a contemporary perspective on the tranquility originally captured in Monet’s iconic paintings. Runs until: Sunday October 1, 2017

Persistence

Persistence Where: Vancouver Art Gallery What: Persistence draws together three recent contemporary installations to explore the surprising and creative ways that technologies, physical objects and natural processes endure and transform. Runs until: October 1, 2017

Elad Lassry

Elad Lassry Where: Vancouver Art Gallery What: Investigating the nature of perception with a special focus on the photographic image within the digital era, the exhibition includes more than seventy works—films, photographs and sculpture—produced by Lassry over the last decade. Runs until: Sunday October 1, 2017

Mount Pleasant Farmers Market Where: Dude Chilling Park What: Amble over and pick up some afternoon picnic supplies, groceries for the week, and Sunday dinner fixings from 25+ farms and producers. Each week you’ll find a fresh selection of just-picked seasonal fruits & veggies, ethically-raised meats & sustainable seafood, artisanal bread & prepared foods, craft beer, wine, & spirits, handmade craft, and coffee & food trucks. Runs until: Sunday October 8, 2017

Traces of Words: Art and Calligraphy from Asia

Traces of Words: Art and Calligraphy from Asia Where: UBC Museum of Anthropology What: Words and their physical manifestations are explored in this insightful exhibition, which will honour the special significance that written forms. Varied forms of expression associated with writing throughout Asia is shown over the span of different time periods: from Sumerian cuneiform inscriptions, Qu’ranic manuscripts, Southeast Asian palm leaf manuscripts and Chinese calligraphy from MOA’s Asian collection to graffiti art from Afghanistan and contemporary artworks using Japanese calligraphy, and Tibetan and Thai scripts. Runs until: Monday October 9, 2017

Richmond Night Market

Richmond Night Market Where: Richmond, BC What: There’s a dinosaur park! Anamatronic dinosaurs! Also – live performances, carnival games, over 200 retail stalls and over 500 food choices from around the world. Runs until: October 9, 2017

Onsite / Offsite Tsang Kin-Wah

Onsite / Offsite Tsang Kin-Wah Where:  Vancouver Art Gallery What:  This large-scale composition transforms English texts to form intricate floral and animal patterns. The work draws from discriminatory language that appeared in newspapers and political campaigns in Vancouver during the 1887 anti-Chinese riots, the mid-1980s immigration influx from Hong Kong and most recently, the heated exchanges around the foreign buyers and the local housing market. Runs until: Sunday October 15, 2017

West End Farmers Market Where: 1100 Comox St What: Located in the heart of Vancouver’s busy West End, this laid-back Saturday market looks onto beautiful Nelson Park and adjacent community gardens. Each week, shop for the best in local, seasonal produce, artisanal bread & prepared foods, craft beer, wine, & spirits, ethically raised meat, eggs, & dairy, sustainable seafood, wild crafted product, and handmade craft. Hot food & coffee on-site as well. Runs until: Saturday October 21, 2017 (Saturdays)

Trout Lake Farmers Market Where: Trout Lake What: This is where you’ll find the vendors who have been doing it since the beginning; what started as 14 farmers ‘squatting’ at the Croatian Cultural Centre back in 1995 has grown into Vancouver’s most well-known and beloved market. Visitors come from near and far to sample artisan breads & preserves, stock up on free-range and organic eggs & meats, get the freshest, hard-to-find heirloom vegetables and taste the first Okanagan cherries and peaches of the season. Runs until: Saturday October 21, 2017 (Saturdays)

Kitsilano Farmers Market

Kitsilano Farmers Market Where: Kitsilano Community Centre parking lot What:   A great selection of just-picked, seasonal fruits & vegetables, ethically raised and grass fed meat, eggs, & dairy, sustainable seafood, fresh baked bread & artisanal food, local beer, wine, & spirits, and beautiful, handmade craft. Kids and parents alike can enjoy entertainment by market musicians, a nearby playground and splash park, and coffee and food truck offerings each week. Runs until: Sunday October 22, 2017 (Sundays)

The Lost Fleet Exhibit Where: Vancouver Maritime Museum What: On December 7, 1941 the world was shocked when Japan bombed Pearl Harbour, launching the United States into the war. This action also resulted in the confiscation of nearly 1,200 Japanese-Canadian owned fishing boats by Canadian officials on the British Columbia coast, which were eventually sold off to canneries and other non-Japanese fishermen. The Lost Fleet looks at the world of the Japanese-Canadian fishermen in BC and how deep-seated racism played a major role in the seizure, and sale, of Japanese-Canadian property and the internment of an entire people. Runs until: Winter 2017

Bill Reid Creative Journeys | Image via the Canadian Museum of History

Bill Reid Creative Journeys Where: The Bill Reid Gallery What: Celebrating the many creative journeys of acclaimed master goldsmith and sculptor Bill Reid (1920–1998), this exhibition provides a comprehensive introduction to his life and work. Runs until: Sunday December 10, 2017

Amazonia: The Rights of Nature

Amazonia: The Rights of Nature Where: UBC Museum of Anthropology What: MOA will showcase its Amazonian collections in a significant exploration of socially and environmentally-conscious notions intrinsic to indigenous South American cultures, which have recently become innovations in International Law. These are foundational to the notions of Rights of Nature, and they have been consolidating in the nine countries that share responsibilities over the Amazonian basin. Runs until: January 28, 2018

Emily Carr: Into the Forest

Emily Carr: Into the Forest Where: Vancouver Art Gallery What: Far from feeling that the forests of the West Coast were a difficult subject matter, Carr exulted in the symphonies of greens and browns found in the natural world. With oil on paper as her primary medium, Carr was free to work outdoors in close proximity to the landscape. She went into the forest to paint and saw nature in ways unlike her fellow British Columbians, who perceived it as either untamed wilderness or a plentiful source of lumber. Runs until: March 4, 2018

Chief Dan George: Actor and Activist Where: North Vancouver Museum What: An exhibition exploring the life and legacy of Tsleil-Waututh Chief Dan George (1899- 1981) and his influence as an Indigenous rights advocate and his career as an actor. The exhibition was developed in close collaboration with the George family. Runs until: April 2018

In a Different Light

In a Different Light Where: Museum of Anthropology What: More than 110 historical Indigenous artworks and marks the return of many important works to British Columbia. These objects are amazing artistic achievements. Yet they also transcend the idea of ‘art’ or ‘artifact’. Through the voices of contemporary First Nations artists and community members, this exhibition reflects on the roles historical artworks have today. Featuring immersive storytelling and innovative design, it explores what we can learn from these works and how they relate to Indigenous peoples’ relationships to their lands. Runs until: Spring 2019

What are you up to this weekend? Tell me and the rest of Vancouver in the comments below or tweet me directly at @lextacular

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