#ive done nothing but paint for the past 20 hours | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

weeklyfangirl · 4 years

Text

Frat Boy Pt. 23

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20, part 21, part 22

Here’s the chappie where you get a look beyond the Mediterranean fortress Harry calls home... ;)

Timing is sometimes too perfect to be the pure product of coincidence.

Everything is connected: the earth and the seas, the moon, and all the sky’s stars.

Our bodies are made of these, fragments of their nature, tying us to this world.

Aunt Lara used to tell me that we are a part of the cosmos, the cosmos pushing and pulling people into paths they’re supposed to be on. She’d smoke her cigarette on our porch with the full moon hanging high in the sky that she’d soon be flying through, and I’d nod, thinking I was so cool just for being around her. It was our time then, just the two of us, sometime after my parents had gone asleep and I’d sneak past their room to meet her outside. She never told my parents I was staying up late on a school night. She’d take another drag, extending one to me, knowing I wouldn’t take it.

“I’ve seen seven year olds with these things,” she’d mutter, laughing to herself, and when she’d look out, I imagined she was envisioning the Roman Cafe she’d frequent beside the famed Colosseum. A hot sun, and balmy breeze, warm like the foreign friends she’d meet, or the lukewarm seas lapping around her ankles. “So much warmer and clearer than anything you’ve ever felt here. The most miraculous shades of blue...” She’d smoke, she’d smile. I’d admire.

It was a full moon that night.

Just like it was tonight.

There are some things that happen so precisely, I think there must not be any other way these things could have happened, no other explanation, other than Aunt Lisa’s: the universe and its timing are inextricably linked to create our destiny.

Our choices change our future, sure. But there’s something beyond that, in the fickle way our choices play out ironically, that makes me think some things are fated. God, the cosmos, whatever you believed in - they had bigger plans for everyone.

They certainly had bigger plans for me other than a depressing Netflix binge in my dorm room after the game.

Yellow fluorescents flickered in the dismal parking garage. Lionel Styles was waiting by the elevators with Sven, looking oddly casual in normal streetwear. They grabbed Harry from me as soon as I’d parked, carrying him in. I followed, for a brief second questioning whether or not my services were needed. Maybe this was only family now.

But Lionel hastily beckoned me towards him. “You wanted a hands on experience right?”

His words seemed crass in a moment like this, but I brushed it off as stress as I went with them in the elevator. Lionel punched in a code and it creaked to life, slower than normal. A table had already been cleared in one of the surgery rooms, a white plastic sheet like that of a serial killer lain across. Gauze, ice water, rags, forceps, and needles were atop a metal tray. It was everything I expected of a surgical room - stark, sterile, and cold without any frivolous decor. No paintings. I assumed there was never anyone awake enough in this room to enjoy them anyway. Sven lay a white medical pillow down, too thin to be comfortable, as Lionel lowered Harry. I cringed, feeling another wave of nausea wrack through me. His gauze, once pink, was now completely red and looked wet to the touch.

“He’s been bleeding this whole time,” I breathed. Albeit obvious, it was less to inform Lionel than it was to come to terms with it myself.

Lionel flicked one of the syringes, nodding solemnly. “He might need a blood transfusion.”

Blood transfusion. IV poles were behind the table, blood blags and clear IV fluid already ready. He was expecting this.

“Shouldn’t he be at a hospital?”

“Nothing we can’t do. He’s just a boy. Gets into scrapes every now and then.”

“This is more than a scrape.”

He ignored me, plunging the needle in, and less than a second later, Harry’s eyes fluttered.

“Adrenaline,” I whispered under my breath. I recognized the protocol.

Lionel looked at me, curiously. “You’ve done a good job. Did you stuff the wound?”

I shook my head. Harry was still lightly breathing thanks to the adrenaline. But he wasn’t anywhere near stabilized to warrant my work being commended.

“It’ll be enough until my friend gets here,” he said.

I looked at him, skeptically.

“The anesthesiologist,” he clarified.

And I blamed it on the shock for being so daft. Dr. Styles had been established in the medical field since he received his degree, it was no surprise if he had a “friend” for everything.

“Is Mary here?” I don’t know why I asked this question. I don’t know why I thought it was relevant. Perhaps because if my mom knew I was bleeding out on a table, she’d be right there. Right beside me. She would’ve been the one driving, bossing around all the doctors. 911 would have been called and she would’ve moved hell fire and water screaming like a banshee to get to me. “Does she know?” I questioned.

Lionel didn’t even look at me, carefully unwrapping the gauze. “She’s sleeping. I didn’t wake her.”

The separate lives of Mr. and Mrs. Styles spread further in my eyes, only their roof and rings joining them.

I unpacked new gauze, handing it to him. The butterfly bandaids hadn’t held, big shock, and blood trickled down in a steady current. How much blood could he have left? Lionel didn’t have time to be surprised, but the stoic doctor looked a shade whiter when he grabbed the gauze. The wound was exposed and he hesitated, simply applying pressure. His hands bloodied by the second.

For as renowned as he was, in facing his own son, he suddenly seemed paralyzed. I wanted to shake him.

Sven re-entered, slightly out of breath. I’d never noticed him leaving. “They’re here, sir. But they can’t get in-”

A spark was lit. Something familiar for him to grasp onto. “Elevator’s been jamming,” he cursed.

I helped apply pressure, and Dr. Styles looked at me, unsettled.

“I’ll stay here. You can let them in,” I nodded, even though there hadn’t been a question.

“It’s deep. So you have to physically stuff the wound with gauze. Have you ever dealt with a stab wound?”

My eyes narrowed. He already knew what kind of injury it was.

Then, mustering all the poise and retort of the First Lady, “With all due respect sir, I can do this.”

“I’ve seen grown men faint at the sight of needles let alone handling an open wound.”

“Thank God I’m a woman then.” I don’t know what possessed me, but my steely gaze must’ve been convincing. Lionel ran through the door, not even bothering to shut it.

Perhaps it was all the hours of being kept to dull paperwork and the maddening helplessness I’d felt for too long now.

But I couldn’t sit around anymore.

I needed to do something.

Sven watched me as I put on gloves and bunched up the gauze, holding my breath as I pushed it past the skin’s opening, ignoring his little gasps telling me this was hurting him, and ignoring the hot sensation around my hands. Tissue. That hot sensation was his tissue. I was inside Harry. I was touching… suddenly the anatomy I’d memorized in textbooks was a little too detailed. These gloves were too thin. I kept going and Sven jumped in to help elevate Harry so I could wrap the gauze around his entire abdomen, stuffing his wound until it was full.

We didn’t speak.

I sat on the only steel stool in silence. I may not want to sit around, but right now the floor could move beneath me at any moment. Sven was in the corner of the room, gaze locked to the clock. The minutes seemed to tick by slower than anything I’d ever felt. I could feel time, just like in the elevator. And maybe it was because his time was running out. He could die. Harry could very well die. If I’d chosen to go with Renny, if I’d stayed a moment longer, if I’d left a moment sooner, I would’ve passed the locker room without hearing him, without seeing him at all. What would the alternative have been? An image of Harry bleeding out, cold on the floor made me nauseous.

And still the clock ticked.

I could have screamed by the time they burst through the doors in a flury. Two men I’d never seen before entered in slacks and untucked button-downs. This hadn’t been an expected call. This wasn’t official. They ignored Sven and I, instantly getting to work, which was fine by me as long as I could stay. They inserted needles and attached wires and masks until I wasn’t sure I could untangle him if I tried. The smallest mewling noises came from him, but he didn’t stir. I don’t think he had it in him to move anymore. Only able to give one desperate lolled roll of his head.

One of the men, the anesthesiologist, fiddled with a machine. The whoosh of releasing gas sounded when Harry took his first breaths. A slow, but steady, heart rate appeared on the monitor.

Lionel looked at it briefly.

The Doctor and his helpers worked for what seemed like hours. Maybe it was. For how long time felt and despite how intently I’d been staring at the clock, I couldn’t recall when we’d arrived. I cringed as they undid my handiwork, only to excavate deeper into the wound. I know this might be my future when I pursued medical school, but on more than one occasion I had to look away.

Sven had left the room entirely, standing guard just beyond the door. At least Sven escaped the smell of metal and flesh.

They stapled Harry together like meat, a butchered boy on the operating table, like Hasbro Operation except no one was laughing when the forceps dug in, and nobody won.

Every time I cringed, I reminded myself: Harry was asleep. He couldn’t feel any of this.

He looked like a corpse under the unforgiving white light, but the heartbeat reminded me he was alive.

When Lionel Styles finally turned away, tossing his gloves in the bin, he looked whiter than the sheet beneath Harry.

It was the longest night I’d ever had.

But for him, to excavate into his son the way he just had, I imagined it was longer.

------

“I didn’t have to come,” Matt said, for the first time irritance lacing his voice. Golden Boy stood at my doorway, recoiled, after I’d practically growled upon seeing him.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It was a long night.”

And annoying after the e-mail notification I’d received about the DG Pretty Please. Time was running out, and it was the last thing I’d had on my mind recently.

“Why was it so long?”

I twirled my hair around itself in a messy bun, letting it hold itself up. I just shrugged while Matt’s concern mounted.

Lionel had asked me not to speak of it. “We’ll let you know when you can see him,” he’d said. As far as anyone else was concerned, I hadn’t been there that night. There was a reason he didn’t want Harry going to a hospital. Less questioning, less spotlight, less of an impact on their image… it still unnerved me. Such a horrific injury, and yet… it was almost expected, brushed under the rug. Had Harry really been this much of a troublemaker growing up that a stab wound was equivalent to a scrape for Dr. Styles?

Matt set the steaming Del Taco bag on the floor. “Y/N, seriously, what’s up? You couldn’t even stay the weekend on campus? She told me you’ve been gone for weeks.” He sat down at the foot of my bed when he was sure I wasn’t going to turn into a snarling monster. Which, to be fair, must have been a hard conclusion to come to. “And it’s true, I haven’t seen you around at all. You just… disappeared.”

“Okay, it was ONE week,” I clarified. “And we don’t see much of each other anymore anyways so don’t act like you’re so butt hurt that I decided to come home again.”

I wanted to take the words back as soon as I said them. They were the ones we hadn’t said. The ones we knew were true. But a mood had crept through me last night turning me sour against the world. And now each word I spoke was infected with its poison.

His brows scrunched, eyes flashing with indignation, not sure how to handle me, of all people, lashing out abuse.

“Yeah, because you quit your PT job.”

“I got a new one!”

“And that’s fine! Why are you so… defensive right now??” he laughed briefly at the absurdity. “I just don’t know why you’re trying to blame this on me. Where is this coming from?”

I remained silent. I didn’t know why I was blaming him so harshly for our friendship reaching a downward slope. I knew we had different circles of friends, and as gross of a cliche as it was, he was with the athletes and I was with… Renny. Though now I was starting to hang out with Lynn more, too. A part of me envied him for having such an instant community with his team. Isn’t that why people joined sororities? For community? I’d seriously flunked that one, though a little voice told me I just wasn’t trying hard enough.

He looked to my collaged wall, expecting to see our photo strip. But it wasn’t there. He stood up, finding it atop my mom’s arts and crafts bin.

“Haven’t been here in a while,” he said, softly.

I watched him, stood in my room like all those high school nights of old, seeming taller than before. Like in the months we’d lost touch he’d somehow gotten too big for this room, like he’d somehow outgrown me.

“It fell down,” I lied, because Harry had taken it off.

They say your high school friends won’t stay with you forever, that as you grow older, the number of friends you stay in touch with start dwindling until it’s down to one or two. I stopped speaking to most of mine after the first year of community college. People move on. People change. I changed too, even though I stayed behind. But there was always Matt. Of all people, I didn’t think it would be him and I standing apart and feeling farther, still. When these relationships change, the transition feels gradual. It’s like, in some unspoken unseen moment, your lives sync up, and you’re both busy at the same intervals. And then you make plans to see each other, but both of you don’t reach out the day you’re supposed to meet up. Neither of you follow through. Because it’s easier. It’s natural. An unspoken agreement.

“We’ve both been busy,” I said.

“The last time I saw you, you had a massive mark on your neck.”

“You can say hickey, Matt.”

His eyes fluttered, and he looked away. If I wasn’t devoid of emotion then, I’d think it funny how he got flustered just thinking or talking about anything sexual with me.

“You’re pretty close with Harry then?” he asked, ears slightly reddened.

“What makes you say that?”

“An educated guess.” A charming smile lit his face, almost shy, the hostility in the air dulling for a moment. “I’ve seen you with him before, and you were wearing his jersey at the game… I didn’t really believe it though.”

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon. Harry Styles.”

“And?”

He raised his hands as if the answer was so obvious it was floating in the air. They dropped. “He’s not really your scene, is he? I don’t mean that in a bad way, he’s not really my scene either.”

“So?”

“So, nothing. I was just trying to find something to talk about.” He was getting more irritated now, his thumb digging in between his fingers. “Really, I don’t even care to talk about him, let’s talk about you. Please. Have you drawn anything recently? Why’ve you been feeling off?”

I snorted. “Please, I haven’t drawn anything since high school. There’s nothing new.”

He crossed his arms, testing me. “I don’t buy it.”

He was smart not to.

“You know… It took a lot for my dad to ask me to stay behind instead of going off to Princeton,” he said. Every molecule seemed to still around him. “He can barely speak now. The guy who wouldn’t ask you to fetch the boogie board even if you were the one who’d let the waves take it in the first place...” his voice trailed off, a silent sadness swirling in blue eyes.

I remembered Patrick Price taking us to the beach and pushing us beneath the big waves, teaching us how to balance on those harmless foam boards we’d pick up at Rite-Aid. Just three years ago at high school graduation, Patrick was running across the grass playing football with Matt and Dad at the BBQ while Mom and Summer dished out the pasta salad and watermelon. He was diagnosed two years ago, and now instead of serving pasta salad, Summer serves him, watching him closely on his wheelchair. ALS was a nasty disease and it acted fast.

“I can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped,” he finished.

I wanted to say that I was sorry. I wanted to say that it wasn’t him, that it was me. But something else had already consumed me, not letting in the light, finding the darkest parts of me and unfurling them until some spilled past my lips. “You didn’t have to drive all the way down here just to see me.”

“I didn’t,” he said, and even though he hid his hurt well, I could still see it. He stood from the bed, making up his mind that there wasn’t any use being with someone who pushed away anything that ventured near. “I’m helping my dad move offices. The rent is too high now for landscapers.”

“They’re leaving? But you guys have been in the same spot for years.”

Matt gave a shrug, taking his turn at the silent treatment.

“I didn’t know,” I said, lamely.

The chasm between us grew bigger, and I shrunk even smaller, letting the silence and guilt consume me.

“But you wouldn’t want to talk to me about that either, right?”

I swallowed, hard. I deserved that.

And I was too ashamed to stop him from leaving.

Less than an hour later, I was cursing him again. The smell of Del Taco drove my mother away from the living room. Messy wrappers lay scattered around me when the door opened. I may have been too ashamed and prideful to apologize to Matt, but my growling stomach was stronger than both.

She saw me in the same position Matt had left me, and I avoided her gaze, checked my phone. No updates.

The room seemed cold.

“You look like you’re having the same day I’m having.” She came in with a basket of clean clothes, setting it on the floor.

“Mom, I told you I’d do that.”

“No, you needed rest.” There was a flash of pity, but it was lying beneath a thick shell of annoyance. She huffed, sitting on my bed, just like Matt hours before.

She snuggled closer. I faced her on my side, hands pressed against my cheek. She mirrored me.

I waited for her to say something, but in the silence her eyes grew wide, shaking her head. The mysterious reason for her mood like a gorged balloon floating towards a fan.

“What?” I asked.

“I think your Dad has feelings for somebody else.”

My brows scrunched. “What?”

“I don’t have any proof. But we were on a date night last night and…” -she let out a cruel laugh that made me want to hold her- “He was texting her.”

“Who?”

“A waitress.”

“A waitress?”

“Nicole the waitress.”

“How do you know it was her?”

“He denied it. But I looked at his phone when he went to the bathroom. She’s been a little… friendly with Dad.”

“Nicole?? Mom, she’s like nearly forty.” A brief memory of a friendly blonde working in the restaurant trickled up and left a sour taste on my tongue.

“Still fifteen years younger than me.”

My nose shriveled up, the thought of Father being romantic with my own mom made me cringe, but the thought of Father being romantic with somebody else? It didn’t seem… conceivable. My parents weren’t like the Styless. They kept us together. They loved each other.

“Have I met her? I’ll punch her next time I see her,” I said, the words still not connecting with my brain. With the facts laid out before me.

Mom snorted. “Not before I do.” She plucked at a hangnail, a habit I’d gotten from her, and I could practically see the insecurities already rolling around in her mind.

“You’re gorgeous, Mom.”

She gave me a look. “I’ve been stress-eating chocolates. I need to watch myself.”

“Mom.” I frowned, seeing worry behind her humor. “He needs to watch himself.”

She sighed, turning to the ceiling. “I don’t know. I just have this… feeling.”

“Women’s intuition?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, and I knew if Mother was telling me this from her vault of secrets, it must have been significant. She wasn’t one to listen to Lara’s spirituality, but intuition was something she would never refute. Momma turned back, rattling her thoughts together. “Anyway. I’ll just be... shocked. If it’s true. I mean...a waitress? Really?” Silence suspended. The afternoon sun warmed the room a little more than usual, exposing the paled filmy stars on my ceiling to be illuminescent frauds. “Or maybe I’m not,” she said, quieter. Before I could bat my eyes, she changed the subject. “Why’d you come back last night?”

But I could still see the steam rolling off her shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it more?” I offered. The Del Taco turned queasy in my stomach, and as much as I loved her, I really hoped she said no.

She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned anything.” She squeezed my hand, letting me know she meant her apology. She did a once-over at my stale big t-shirt. “Did something happen to make you want to come home?” Her fingers ran along the tops of my knuckles. “Or do you just love me.” Her smile was less than half-hearted.

“I was going to be alone at the dorm again. Renny was going to a party and I didn’t want to go with her…”

“I hate how she leaves you alone. Maybe we should get you a puppy for company?”

I gave her a look and she caved. “No, you’re right. Probably wouldn’t fit in there. You couldn’t take care of a puppy now anyways. Too needy. So, did he like the house?”

Her mind seemed scattered in a million directions. Mine struggled to keep up.

“Mom, seriously what are you talking about?”

“Oh, I didn’t know if he said anything about it afterwards or-”

“Mom, who?”

“Harry, honey.”

She was clueless of what her words did to me. My heart lurched just hearing his name, and the worry from last night washed over my exhausted frame like a crab on the shore, strong tides like a persistent weight, threatening to carry me away again.

“I’m sure he liked it,” I said.

“It’s an older home...he’s probably used to columns of marble.” Her embarrassed smile for even asking the question made my heart split further.

“Actually, he did say something! I remember now, he told me it was cute. Homey. He thinks the marble stuff is too cold anyways, he’s excited to come back,” I reassured her. The last bit was probably a stretch but it worked. Embarrassment fell away and her smile glowed.

Satisfied that she was happy, I turned to face my ceiling, closing my eyes. The problems with her and Father swum in the back of my mind, but I was too tired to take on anything else. She was an adult. She could make her own decisions. The information settled in a box in my brain, waiting for a moment when I could fully process it and I’d unlock it all again. I could feel the inklings of damage it would do to me if I truly unpacked it - anxiety, anger, confusion, fear, pity.

Family was a constant.

I couldn’t think about that changing, too. Not when I could barely keep my eyes open.

“You’re so sad, angel. What’s going on in your mind, hm?”

I shook my head, shifting to look at the ceiling. I didn’t need to feel guilty for not confiding in her. I needed to not feel anything.

Her presence was like a lighthouse, radiating heat, beckoning me to come back. All without her saying a word.

She looked as if she were going to say something else, but her hand fell back into her lap. “Okay,” she said.

She didn’t even try.

Maybe she knew the fog was too thick for me to see her light.

Then, through the fog, a vibration shook me to the core.

-----

“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon,” Sven stepped aside, the grand foyer to the Styles estate stretching out before me. Any other time, it would be enchanting, captivating. Now, it looked as treacherous as a hospital hall. I wasn’t sure what rendition of Harry was waiting for me on the other side of the staircase.

My feet carried me up a familiar path, my heart pounding at the unknown.

Irrationally, I had to remind myself that Harry was alive. I wasn’t going to find him, not like I’d found my Grandpa in his room.

Regardless…

“Are there people watching him? Is he alone?”

“He’s stabilized. There’s no need for nurses to keep watch.” Sven held dirty linens as he stayed in my shadow up the stairs.

I nodded, the assurances not really meaning anything, not until I could put an image in my mind as to what he looked like. Right now, all I could conjecture was a gray blur for a head sticking out above the sheets. How bruised would he be? How much stained blood would there be? I didn’t know what to fill in the gray with, so my mind envisioned the grim Harry I’d last seen, the Harry that, if it weren’t for the monitor, I wouldn’t have known still had a beating heart.

Each step carried me closer with a horrifying thought. My brain playing connect the dots as I walked.

Pale.

A clay boy.

A stitched up doll.

And everyone knew dolls didn’t breathe.

I didn’t realize I was alone until I turned around. Of course Sven wouldn’t have followed me, but for some reason I wanted him to be here.

Maybe it’s because he was with me when I’d seen Harry last.

“Y/N.” The familiar voice was weaker, but the grim tone was still so painfully bare. Of course he’d sensed me.

When I stepped out from behind the door, I didn’t find a dilapidated monster. Harry lay resting.

“Hey.” I snuck in, light as a swallow’s feather in the morning breeze, floating down beside him and resting my head atop crossed arms. The sight of him shook me. “Raggedy Harry,” I barely whispered, a horrible punch-to-the-gut feeling ballooning in my chest.

Half of his face swelled more than the other, his bottom lip completely bruised and jutted out, with a fairly deep gash that had started to scab. I fought the urge to trace over it.

“Looks worse than it is,” he said, watching my eyes carefully. Besides the pink-red swelling, his face appeared flushed. And despite his injuries, he was still miraculously beautiful.

I didn’t even blush from staring. Loose earthy curls had not been affected by time spent smooshed against the pillows. If anything, it’d pushed them forward, the floppier fringe defying gravity just there above his forehead. People could go to a stylist and ask for effortless mussy curls and not have it turn out as good as his - and this just with his genetics and days spent sleeping.

If I were him, I’d look like a grease monkey.

“Well, I can’t see the worst bits I’m sure.”

His chest was wrapped in gauze, this time not bloody to the touch. It was thick, white, and secure, and suddenly the tears that had yet to spill started pricking my eyes. I didn’t know just how badly I needed to hear the words before he said them.

“Y/N, I’m fine. I promise.”

The heaviest weight lifted from my shoulders, but my body slumped deeper into his mattress from an instantaneous realization. I’d needed Harry to be okay. I needed him here, even if I couldn’t explain why.

My hand reached out, brushing the tops of his hand.

“It would’ve been a dick move if you died,” I managed to breathe. I let out a sorry excuse for laughter, nervously sniffling.

His eyes seemed heavy, tired. The circles beneath them a cry for help from his beaten body.

“You can sleep if you want. I just wanted to check in on you.”

“I’m not sleeping when you’re here. S’all I’ve been doing,” he croaked. A flood of relief washed over me. Being apart from him was the last thing I wanted right now. The anxieties that’d been plaguing me the past 24 hours were muted to a dull simmer, drowned out by the highs of my body being close to his. Noticing his body...

A steady drip came from the IV hooked to his arm. Five pill bottles were on his nightstand, within arms reach. He noticed my staring.

“To stay hydrated.” Then, under his breath, “And numb.”

“I know,” I barked a laugh that instantly felt out of place. “I want to go into medicine, remember?”

His voice seemed lower when he rumbled, “S’right. You’re a smart girl.”

The tenderness in his voice sent an unexpected warmth straight to my chest. “You know that’s also a curse,” I noted. “I think too much.”

“I know,” he said, but he didn’t laugh like I had. It sounded like an apology. I almost jolted when his hand reached out to touch mine, not expecting him to be warm.

“You almost died,” I said, taking a breath. “I was there when you almost died.”

“I never wanted you to be there-” Before I could take offense, he weakly squeezed my hand. “I want to protect you, Y/N. I never wanted you this involved with me.”

“Well we’ve done a shit job at staying uninvolved. You can barely protect yourself. You can’t protect yourself.”

“That isn’t going to happen again.”

“The fact that it happened! Harry, I don’t think you understand how scared I was. How scared I am. I could be next, I don’t know what they want...”

A horrifying puzzle piece clicked into place. My nightmare of being stabbed could become a very real reality. It wasn’t until I saw Harry wincing that I realized his breath had quickened.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Shit I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stress you out. We don’t need to talk right now.”

The sting of I never wanted you this involved with me pulled me to the door, but his hand pulled me back.

“No. Fuck no.” But his grip softened again, his abdomen screaming at the effort to pull me back to him. When he spoke again his voice was a murmur, quiet-quiet, so gentle I could’ve imagined it. “Stay. Please. Seeing you here is the happiest I’ve been all week.”

My heart could’ve flown out of my chest, but for the buzzing electrical phenomena his words ignited in me, I was frozen by his sober admittance of want. It seemed all we ever did was dance around each other, literally. As if we were in an old 1700s ballroom, and everyone was dispersing into pairs. We spy each other from across the room and tiptoe around, refusing to seek other partners, yet refusing to commit to a dance.

“Is that sad?” His sincerity broke my reverie.

I leant closer, and his eyes fluttered shut in expectation… But my lips pressed soft kisses to closed lids. “I’ll stay,” I promised, nose to nose. Because my answer to his question would be yes. Something told me the mess of his body finally matched the inside of his heart.

Rather than tilt his head up to kiss me, he tried scooting over in the bed. It was painful to watch. I stopped him. There was plenty of room for me to lay beside him. So I did, scared to touch him.

“I’m not going to break,” he huffed. Tough and untouchable, I imagine being tip-toed around was the exact opposite of what he was used to.

“You didn’t see yourself that night.” Bloodied gauze and feeling his hot insides against my hands was enough to make my own blood curdle. It was enough to make me question if the Harry in front of me was simply a mirage. He was okay now, I reminded myself. But after I’d seen him bleeding out in the seat next to me, I wasn’t sure I believed him to be unbreakable anymore.

“You’re right, I’m… sorry,” he looked away, as if not being able to meet his reflection in my eyes. As much as I could hear regret, I knew he felt it even more.

My hand reached out, fingertips gently touching his raised cheek. “You were the one who felt it.”

He barely leant against my touch, gaze boldly probing my tired eyes, puffy from crying. The longer he stared the guiltier he became.

“Maybe we both did,” he said. The statement seemed to confuse him, brows stitching together. “No one’s ever been there for me like you. And-” he smiled as wide as he could with the swelling- “honestly it scares the living shit out of me. I know you didn’t have much of a choice to help-”

I surprised myself again, the definitive statement flying out of my mouth faster than I could comprehend. “I’d do it again.”

But the words seemed to hurt him more. His head lulled to the side, his prominent adam’s apple moving as he swallowed, deep in thought. “You’re too good for me,” he surmised. Before I could argue, he took my hand, pressing the back of it to bruised lips. He was acting so soft, so vulnerable. Was it the drugs? Was it an act? But if it was, how could eyes lie like that?

He hummed as if we were laying on the beach on the first hot day of summer, despite all the pain he must be in. The pros and cons list I’d written and stashed in my purse was sending out a throbbing heartbeat in my body, burning a hole where my purse lay at the end of the bed. No matter if the list were true, it couldn’t encapsulate the complicated person that he was. It wasn’t a fair portrait to paint. And putting me on a pedestal wasn’t either. “That’s not true,” I mumbled, far too late.

“It is,” he said. No room for argument.

“Did they give you some love drugs in this medicine bag of yours?”

His brows quirked at love, but he didn’t seem mocking when he said, “Maybe.” Emerald eyes were a mix of admiration, torment, and want as they drank me in, and I was sure if I let him stare into my soul a moment longer, he’d discover I wasn’t perfect at all.

I looked out towards his panoramic balcony window. Little flickers of light told of a city at the bottom of the hill, the dark ocean like a blanket for the rest of the world just out of reach. I wondered how long it’d been since the sun had set. Like any night with Harry, the rest of the world slipped away.

I stole a glance back at him, the beautifully broken boy resting his eyes. As if sensing me, he stirred, mumbling something incoherent.

“Too far,” he repeated, opening up his arms.

“I’m not laying on you Harry. Your stitches could burst.”

He growled. “I don’t care.”

And I didn’t doubt it. I came as close as I dared, thankful his shoulder wasn’t bruised as I lay my head in the crook of his neck, hands blindly combing through curls.

I could feel him relax into me, hear the boyish smirk across his face. “My mum used to do that,” he whispered. “Not this mum, my other…” his voice stuttered out. “My biological.”

It grew quiet in the room. An opening to the door of his past just barely letting in light.

“Do you miss her?”

“Can’t miss what you don’t remember,” he dismissed. And just like that, the door to his past was slammed shut. It was exactly what he said about the Styles’s first child Jane. But this time it sounded rehearsed, mechanical, a river of emotion carefully masked. But not to me.

My hands stilled, not sure if I should continue. But he leant into me again, and I continued my gentle work, as if undoing his tresses could untangle messy thoughts. “Thank you,” he sighed.

In some unspoken moment, he turned his head down, his tanned beaten face leant closer to mine. And with the intimate intensity only he possessed, he saw me. Like I was the only woman in the world. The oxygen seemed pulled from the room as time suspended. He leant lower until our foreheads brushed, his brows stitching together when I instinctually drew my leg across him, careful not to hitch it up too close to his wound. Our breathing deepened, the anticipation building as my hand drew across his face, my fingers settling behind his ear. He huffed, irritated at the tangling of the IV chord when he wrapped his arm around my side.

We stayed like this for a while, cradling the other. And just like I had done before, his pillow-soft lips ghosted over my cheek, then my nose, then my chin, until they hovered just over my lips. My eyes fluttered closed, the trail he left leading to one place…

“Y/N,” he breathed. I opened my eyes. There wasn't any reluctance in his eyes, but something similarly cautious yet fervent, an unspoken sentence pushing against closed lips.

But the sound of glass shattering woke us both up. His body turned hunter, still as stone as he listened for what came next. A hysterical cry drove Harry to stand, miraculously faster than I thought possible, and it wasn’t until he limped halfway towards the door that I realized he ripped out his IV. The banshee scream turned into a chilling wail, freezing me to my core.

My mind went to the worst case scenario. I’d have to jump from the window somehow. The gang must have found us. They must be in the house-

“It’s Mary,” he cursed, stopping my spiralling mind so quickly I was left dizzy. I don’t remember following him, but he stopped me at the door, hands locked around my shoulders.

“She has… fits, sometimes,” he explained.

“I don’t care.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to see this, too,” he said, and the amount of shame that shadowed his face was like a gouge through my heart.

I barely had time to say the words before another scream ripped through the empty house. “I’d do it again.”

With a somber nod, he rushed us out, practically sprinting to the living room where Mary Styles lay cradling her shell-shocked frame on the floor.

“You were gone. You left me,” she sobbed. Her hair was ripped from its usual loose curls and mascara ran down her face like the clear snot running from her nose.

“Oh my God,” a voice mumbled.

But I realized the voice was me.

The glass mirror at the bar had shattered. Shards of glass lay scattered all over the floor. Harry trudged through it, barefoot, bits of red mixing on the marble floors.

“No one was here, no one saw.” Her eyes were crazed as Harry bent over to pick her up and she pushed him away. “No! NO!!”

Fear spiked in my body. I’d never seen someone look so disconnected from the present reality. This was raw. Unpredictable.

But Harry seemed unphased.

“No one saw her, no one saved her,” she wailed. The weight of the words caused crippling sorrow. She stopped resisting, retreating into a shell of herself with choked cries, “Jane, Jane…” as Harry let out his own shout at the effort to lift her.

“Be careful, you’re hurt,” I called out, weakly. He didn’t bat an eye.

“Go through those doors, through the living wing, there’s a closet on your right. Grab the Valium and meet me in the guest room.” He avoided my gaze, looking instead to the direction I should be running to.

“Where in the closet?”

“Black box,” he ordered. Then, whispering to Mary, “It wasn’t your fault.”

But if she heard the words, they didn’t register, her face twisting, her own little trickle of blood running from the tips of her hands.

Her sobs barely quieted as they rounded the corner down the hall, abandoning me in the wreckage.

I was careful to step around the glass, heading to the massive hidden door in the wall I remembered Harry pointing out as the “living wing.” No one was around to confirm if memory served correct, but when I finally found the latch handle and tugged it open, tropical foliage surrounded me. It smelled humid, like stale water and… musky. Like when I had a hamster in fourth grade and forgot to change out its bedding. The light from the moon shone through their giant skylight, illuminating caged birds gently calling behind bars, enclosed in a sizey aviary. A small raised indoor pool made of rock looked like a concave fossil, with a shadow swimming amongst the mossy water. A miniature crocodile skirted to the furthest edge away from me and raised for air, two eyes looking skeptically in my direction. “Toto” was etched into the rock.

There were more enclosed habitats, and at the head of the room overlooking it all, a giant wooden desk. But no closet. No closet.

Frick.

I didn’t have time to ponder the eccentricity of the Styles’s owning a freaking zoo in their mansion. Nor did I have time to try and find a friggin light switch. Not at all.

I walked the length of the wing which seemed just as expansive as their living room. Ironic, I thought. Because this was literally a living room.

Then, beneath an arching tree canopy held in a planter box, two wicker handles protruded from the wall with a crack running between them.

Bingo.

They opened easily, revealing a deep closet full of filing cabinets and old paintings. My phone light illuminated the top, where two black boxes seemed to have gone untouched for years.

My foot tapped impatiently, not sure which one to grab. I hadn’t heard any cries of bloody murder, but someone (not me, someone more athetlic) could’ve run a mile in the time I’d been gone.

I reached for the one closest to me. It was velvet, I realized, surprised even this family’s storage containers would have some element of luxury. I prayed to find pills. But instead, a wax sealed envelope holding a thick stack of documents glared back at me. I was just about to secure the lid again when the inklings of a photograph peaked through between the papers. The deep-red seal, already opened, was their insignia, a cursive “S” that looked like it’d come from the 18th century.

Since the seal was already broken…

My hands carefully leafed through the pages, and as if they knew, the animals grew louder, alarming themselves of an intruder. These documents seemed court-ordered. Various signatures adorned the pages using language I couldn’t understand. My heart dropped when I realized what I was holding. Adoption papers. Among them, a newspaper clipping about a boy separated from a violent family, and adopted by rich Americans.

Slowly, with each word I read, the oxygen felt snuffed from the room, another puzzle piece falling into place. One that changed the picture completely.

Wednesday morning at 5 am, neighbors of Sheffield awoke to gunshots at the King flat. After an attempted murder of his wife resulting in two gun shot wounds to Maisie King’s abdomen, Roger King committed suicide. Maisie is currently in recovery, and her two children have been placed in foster care while the court assesses their home situation.

More newspaper headings were clipped out, detailing the TV star rescuers of the boy, how lucky he was and how a wonderful, ritzy life in California awaited him. His entire fate had been changed - but there was no mention of Gemma. And in each photo, the child-like innocence in his eyes seemed vacant, replaced with a stoic sadness I’d only seen glimpses of when he was medicated. When he was too numb to remember to keep up the mask.

For how little the Styles’s divulged about Harry’s past to the American press, in England the story seemed to be the tragedy turned happy ending. At least, to some extent, the Styles’s were owed credit for something. They’d probably paid off the international papers.

Little Harry… My stomach suddenly flipped, the room’s darkness transferring to something physically heavy in my chest. There was a photograph, too, and I carefully wedged a finger where the worn corner of it peaked out from the paperwork, keeping its place as I tugged it out. But when I saw it, I almost dropped everything.

The familiar curly-haired child I’d known from old Housewives episodes stared back at me in a worn blue polo from discolored film. Reddened tear-stained eyes looked at whoever was behind the camera.

There were fresh bruises on baby-plump cheeks, cuts across rosy cherub lips.

I looked away as soon as I saw it, but the image had already burned in my memory. A taste for the shadows of scars I could only imagine he carried ten-fold. His cuts had buried much deeper than flesh; the most dangerous wounds afflicted his soul and stole the air straight from my lungs.

Oh, God.

Oh, Harry.

How could anyone do such a thing? He was just an innocent boy, how could anyone- how often…?

Bitter bile rose in the back of my throat. Dealing with bloody injuries was one thing, but seeing a beaten child had me sick for another reason entirely. This was something evil.

I put the photo back just as quickly. I’d gone too far this time. I’d really gone too far.

So it was almost an accident that the next photo fell out when I was putting back the first.

A man, strewn across a red puddle seeping from his head. A gun tossed at his side. The bile rose again and I refused to stare, but my mind caught the ends of wavy brown hair and a face that wasn’t really quite there.

I should’ve noticed when the animals quieted, I should’ve heard footsteps quicken in the other room, but it seemed far away, muted by the roaring secret I’d just uncovered, my mind fully fixated on the life no one could have known about Newport’s playboy hier.

If Harry hadn’t noticed the velvet top of the box not quite closed shut, he saw the guilt in my eyes when he stood square before the closet doors.

He looked irritated, almost grabbing the closed box from my fingers.

“It’s the wrong box!” I cried, horrified that even my voice reeked of pity. And something else. Fear.

He froze. A flame flashed beneath the dulled emerald, a spark of knowledge I was sure he’d like to forget. That he’d probably tried to forget, countless times. He shoved it away and grabbed the other box, stopping briefly as he walked past me again. He threw a cold glare.

“Don’t be scared of the snake,” he said. “But he doesn’t like strangers.”

As if on command, a giant boa constrictor slithered out from the overhanging tree, tightly coiled around a branch.

I felt my heart lurch in my throat.

“Harry!” I called, but he wasn’t here anymore. And if he was, he didn’t answer. He left, rushing to deal with one mess, when I feared I’d just created an even bigger one. Frozen to the spot as I figured out how to basically army-crawl out of the closet, I ran out past screaming birds and rustling waters, snake eyes burning two holes in the back of my neck as I chased Harry’s shadow.

come talk about frat boy! or if you just wanna talk... i’m getting tired of talking to my dog lmao

237 notes · View notes

aestheticvoyage2020 · 4 years

Photo

Day 264: Sunday September 20, 2020 - “Jake The Electrician”

Of all the things we’ve gotten done during this great time with my parents here to help, whats maybe most impactful are the things I’ve learned by doing. Most of all - some simple electrician work! Sure, I got zapped a few times, including one real loud bright pop that had me waiting for the pain - but thats all part of the process.

It started out a little rough, as I crossed off one of our priority projects fixing up the outdoor plug that holds the security camera and market lights....my Dad commented that it was a good thing I wasnt charging per the hour on that frustrating job that will no doubt have to be redone... it was there that I saw my life flash, quite literally - leaving me with a trick screwdriver with two memorable shock scars in it. I suppose its better safe than sorry and turn off the breaker! I guess the safety goggles dont really do much for you in this field of play. From there I moved on to replacing all new paddle switches throughout the house, electrical outlets, a dimmer, and even studied and learn to install an GFCI outlet. By the end of the week I was texting our electrician friend and letting him know that I was ready to be an apprentice. Dad and I even fixed a pesky 3 way light switch. Semi-pros!

Not only did this get me going on getting the Finca a real nice refresh from several-times-painted over light switches and electrical outlets, it also left me with a new skill and understanding of what goes on in the wall. It also left me with some confidence that even in some of these areas that I know nothing about, I can figure it out on my own. And I suppose all that is whats been most important about having my parents here this past week. Ive peppered them with curious questions, and kept them busy with a long string of projects mostly so that I can learn from them as we go (not just to get it done). The end result, accountably more important than checks on a list, is the long lasting stamp of learning how to be a home owner, from two veterans that have been doing it my whole life.

Song: Matt The Electrician - Thank You

Quote: “We crave for new sensations but soon become indifferent to them. The wonders of yesterday are today common occurrences” ― Nikola Tesla, My Inventions

1 note · View note

justlostinautumn · 5 years

Text

The Assistant 17/20

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16

Avengers x Reader (Fury/adopted-daughter) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A girl trying to hide her past who was adopted by Nick Fury, but cared for by Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. Being Tony’s assistant and asked to help the rest of the team. She doesn’t remember much from her past, but maybe working with this group of misfits will help knock a few memories loose and open some doors to the past. – Sorry if this sucks!

A/N: Please send me thoughts on where you want to see this imagine go… or ideas for new stories!

Y/N POV:

Y/N was strapped on a table as they scan her looking for possible chips and tracking devices, but what her parents didn't know was Tony had been working on tracking devices that couldn't be traced or seen without specific equipment. Equipment that only Tony has! She was beginning to wake after she had been knocked out by the tranquilliser, she could feel a dull throbbing in the side where she had been shot. “Rise and shine Sweetheart.” Her fathers face loomed over her and she froze as memories of her being told off and punished by the man who was meant to make her feel safe.

“Sir.” She looked up at him, she knew he preferred being called sir. She was just an asset she wasn’t his child.

“She remembers her manners.” Her mother waltzed into the room smirking.

“She sure did grow up pretty.” Her father commented and her mother nodded in agreement.

“Get up!” Her mother ordered the restraints had been removed and Y/N got up quickly ignoring the protests of her stitches.

“Good girl, but you still need to be punished for that little Houdini stunt you pulled when you were sixteen.” The voice came from the shadows and she watched her brother walk towards her.

Y/N knew she would be put through hell. She knew they’d collect her pretty much straight away and decided to leave that out, this was her plan she wanted to kill her brother herself. This was the only chance she was going to get and she took it, she knew her punishment would be 100x worse but it would be worth it. In one quick movement, she was behind her brother with his head in her hands and with a jerk to the right and a sickening crack she broke her brother's neck and let him fall to the ground.

“That’s better.” She smirked at her parents. The scream her mother made sounded like a wounded animal and her father had a murderous look on his face. She knew she could take them but she was tired, there was still so much she doesn’t remember and she is hoping with their help it will help the last pieces fall into place.

“You little slut!” Her mother screeched in her face and slapped Y/N. Y/N didn’t react she gave her mother a cold look that made her mother shiver and takes a step back.

Armed agents came in and guided her to the cage, some things never change. The cage had an electrical charge that would shock her at random moments disorientating her, they would also minimise the food and water they would give her. This would be phase one of punishment, there would be two more stages. Phase One lasted 4 days not that Y/N knew that she had barely slept. They took her out of the cage and started Phase Two, this was training. She knew she would still win, but she wasn’t running on optimum. Her body was weak and tired, she was going to be slower and take more hits, she knew Phase Two had two parts the first was combat and the second was the dance. She knew when she was done for the day she would be put back in the cage and subjected to the torture again. Her mother loved Ballet and ensured that Y/N could perform flawlessly for hours on end and Y/N knew once the righting stopped the dancing would start. Phase Two lasts the longest of 8 days. Her parents ensured before punishment started to inject her with a serum that accelerates her already accelerated healing abilities thanks to the serums, they do this at the start of each phase and by the last phase, Y/N heals within minutes of the wound being inflicted. The third and final phase is her parents favourite, they inject her with different serums and acids that burn her, but because of her healing, they keep doing it. They cut and stab at her letting her bleed out, she knew there was a chance this time they may just kill her.

Y/N was on her twelfth day of being back home.

“We will be going onto Phase Three tomorrow.” The twisted smile on her fathers face told her everything and she continued her dance knowing better than letting her form drop just because he was talking to her.

“Phase Three will be longer than normal, especially after you killed our son.” Her mother hissed. At that moment Y/N realised, she may be apart of their DNA and their child but she isn’t their daughter and it for some reason hurt. Her father had stopped calling her Sweetheart and the gentleness he normally shows during punishment is gone. Y/N knew for a fact Phase Three would be the end of her life, they couldn’t keep her after she had performed the biggest betrayal… killing their only hire.

“Cage now.” Her father instructed and she walked to her cage and stood by the door knowing what was going to happen. He pulled out a needle and injected the serum by stabbing it into the back of her neck and pushed her in. He mother and father left the room and she was left to sit there and think about everything.

How long have I been here? Are they looking for me? Maybe they don’t want me? Is James okay? Is James safe? As she thought more and more of Bucky she didn’t feel the shocks the cage was delivering. She was panicking thinking about Bucky and then her mind slipped to Wanda, Pepper, Maria, Nick and Tony and how they must all be going insane. How Maria most probably destroyed the dinner she had cooked. Pepper most probably shouted at Tony. Tony most probably paced a hole in the jet and then hauled himself up in his lab with Bruce and Peter sifting through everything she gave him, Y/N hadn’t had the time to organise all the information. Nick was most probably the most rational wrangling everyone together and giving out orders. Wanda would be with Bucky, they would be having quiet conversations in their heads, trying to unlock some of Bucky’s memories. But they would also be working out their aggression. Bucky punching holes in bag after bag and Wanda would most probably be hurling the already destroyed bags into the walls until there is nothing left of them but the mess they made.

A sad smile paints Y/N face as she thinks about some of her family, she didn’t know how the others would be acting. There was a chance their guilt was eating them up slightly. Y/N laid down on the floor of the cage and let the shocks run through her body because anything was easier than thinking about what the ones she loves are going through.

The next day she was dragged out and tied to the table, she knew she wouldn’t be leaving this to go back into the cage. Y/N start to pray that Tony’s tracker actually worked because she didn’t know how long this would last. An IV was set up and she realised how long they planned on doing this, they were going to do this for as long as she could take it until she begged for death. Y/N would die before she begged her parents for any kind of relief. She had all of her memories back now and she swam in them avoiding the reality of what is happening around her. Her views were boring as the injected her with all kind of things that would kill a normal human, they continued this for the whole day and Y/N didn’t make a noise or cry. When they put the IV in she felt her veins being soothed and knew they were giving her more serum and she fell into a dreamless sleep, she knew the next day would be worse but she was tired.

Day fourteen, Y/N had been woken up by something warming in her and she realised it was the tracker she stabbed herself with, it had been activated and relief flooded her but it was short-lived when the stabbing and cutting started to happen. They stopped when it looked like she was about to die or pass out and wait a couple of minutes and then started back up on their torture. How long would it take for the Team to get her? Will I get to see James and Wanda again? Will I get that dinner with Maria and Nick? Will I get another one of Pepper’s hugs that soothe my nerves? Will I get to babysit the oversized man-child Tony Stark? Will I get another one of his hugs? Will I get to stare into those icy orbs that have been the things get me through all this? Before Y/N passes out she hears the wailing of the siren indicating someone has breached the building and everyone gets into action. She feels the cuffs come undone but the damage is done and her parents cannot use their greatest asset to defend them… this was the beginning of their end!

Tags:

@jay-the-mothafuckin-gay, @dark-night-sky-99, @jsmith509, @stormi-ames, @thelostallycat, @animegirlgeeky

#the assistant #the avengers #the avengers x reader #the avengers imagine #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #avengers #marvel imagine #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine

54 notes · View notes

sonicranticoot · 5 years

Text

About CTR, Money, and Both Together: Part 2

Continuing from part 1.

Somehow it has been brought to my attention many more things that just...don’t say any good things, any good things, about the situation of the game and possibly the entire Crash and Spyro franchises going forward. I’m known to keep a very positive image here and I want this to continue, but sometimes, life sucks and then you die. So yes, this one is a lot angrier than the one before. You got to let it all out sometimes.

First thing is how these are actually out now, and boy are they terrible. Not just the fact they exist, but you can make 2500 in about an hour each day with online play. Or just pay Activision (not Beenox) $2.49 for that. A lot of people have been talking about how ridiculously overpriced the bundle for the Probulot 2000 is, and that can take a while to grind out even for online players (I have the dearest sympathies for people who don’t have their console’s online service and are stuck with offline payrates). Or, you could just hand that nice old Activision marketer (not Beenox) $9.99 for coins that disappear as soon as you buy them. I remember years back when Capcom got major slack for selling people costumes in Street Fighter IV for $3.99 a pop. Except there, you got a costume for five characters, and each costume had ten palette swaps. And that’s not going back to before that game, where you could get those in games at the low, low price of being earned as an in-game reward like beating the game on a certain difficulty or whatever.

It just goes back to how it used to be. Crash Team Racing is a 20-year old classic game that had a wealth of content you did not have to pay a cent for past the initial purchase of the game. Some people may say, “well, nothing in the original CTR can be unlocked with microtransactions”, and although that may be correct, it is completely missing the point. Content shown heavily before launch, like all the characters from Crash Nitro Kart and the new karts taken from Tag Team Racing, the stuff that was used to show “hey, look, it’s a little more than just CTR”, that stuff is locked behind an in-game store that allows you to spend real money. That’s not even going into the people who want to put N. Tropy or his digital skin in the shop. I actually commend Beenox for putting in something that, unlike the Pit Stop, forces players to get better at the game to have in their possession. The whole thing takes some pride out of the game. It barely feels like it’s a reward for people who didn’t pay up anymore because now people can go out and buy it with real money. Maybe.

That goes back to the fucking Fortnite store layout. Yeah I know this shop was problematic before, but didn’t go into as much as detail on why it is. Let’s say someone wants that one special skin, they want to buy Crunch that badly, that special car, or paint job. The store is set up to force players to wait, or buy things to roll again and hope what they get shows up. And with the addition of microtransactions, now, you can brute force, but even that still doesn’t help you if the Pit Stop gods don’t feel like playing nice and that special skin you wanted is the very last one in rotation. Some people aren’t that patient. This especially goes for offline players who have to spend hours trying to spend up for even one item. This type of impatience leads to kids stealing daddy’s credit card and spending $1,300 on gambling in FIFA. That’s really where this whole shit stops being “optional”, and feels like a deliberate part of the game. Because it is. It is a deliberate decision made on Activision’s part to make a predatory store. The paid solution now exists to a problem they created, and said paid solution doesn’t even fucking work.

Yes. Some people saw microtransactions coming. Some of these people like the game. Others didn’t like it, and are rubbing it into the former’s face. That doesn’t actually solve the issue here. What is the issue is that they weren’t there. People played the game for over a month without them. All the reviews were out, they were great. YouTubers praised it, both Crash-oriented and otherwise. The ESRB didn’t have to put a warning on the box. It’s all nice and cozy.

Then they do this. I’ve seen the review bombing of Metacritic. I’ve seen many Youtubers who have loved the game before either turn against it, or just express endless disgust over it. The ESRB can’t even do their fucking job of warning people that they are in the game, because there are a lot of copies out there that don’t have the “contains in-game purchases” label on them without glancing at one sentence in size 2 text on the back of the box as if Activision is playing their own twisted game of “ok, how can we tell people they’re in, but in such a way they won’t know it”, so someone, let’s say said person has a gambling problem, can buy the game, hear the good word of mouth from people who played it when it did NOT have MTX, and all of a sudden, they found a game that can prey upon them. I mentioned last time Activision did not make the message clear to consumers. Activision doesn’t want their message clear not just to consumers (and that goes for all consumers, from kids, to people with impulse buying problems, to genuine gambling addicts), but ratings boards either.

In short, all that goodwill Activision built up with this game, Spyro Reignited, Crash N. Sane, it’s gone. Not all of it is. But denying it’s done a crippling blow to things would be foolish. This game has a ton of issues. They’re all still here. MTX are though. It doesn’t give me, or anyone, a reason to trust them about what they do with these franchises, because they aren’t immune to any of the MTX bullshit that regularly plagues Call of Duty or whatever. I like the Crash and Spyro games for many reasons, but one big thing is that their newest release were free of this shit, they were old school ways of making people sold on games: by being really, really good games. You payed for a game. It’s good. Simple. Sweet. To the point.

You know what? Like Crash Bandicoot and Spyro the Dragon, Activision’s own Call of Duty sold millions and reviewed very well when it didn’t have microtransactions as well. FIFA did too. Grand Theft Auto did as well. Mortal Kombat also did. Deus Ex did. 2K sports games did. Fallout did. Elder Scrolls did. Plants vs. Zombies did. Quality games make money by being that. Quality games. Who would’ve guessed. Obviously Activision didn’t make all these games. And that’s the problem. Crash isn’t even new to this shit, it’s just one of countless classic, acclaimed franchises now subjected to the scummiest predatory practices that again, were initially made for free-to-play games that didn’t cost a dime to start playing. You didn’t see these in console games because they weren’t build for that practice. Yes, they make money, but console games could again, make money in a way a F2P mobile game can not: straight-up buying the game.

One of the worst (that’s a drinking game at this point) things is that let’s say people do get the message: everything in CTR can be earned in-game, not all the hard to do at that, the MTX coin rates are terrible, and thus, most people don’t buy the MTX. As in 99% of people don’t buy MTX. But you have whales, that 1% of people who these types of business practices specifically are psychologically engineered to pander to, spending literal thousands of dollars on coins for a cartoon kart racer and Activision can get the idea from them and only them of how to make money. And those types of practices become more accepted because of this, rinse, lather, repeat. There’s no winning scenario except for not having them in the game.

In short, Activision is the single slimiest, greediest, dirtiest, most absolutely fucking disgusting money-lusting pig of a company in the video game business and I am very, very disappointed in how corrupting classic games and franchises with pure filth meant to destroy bank accounts has consumed the industry. Activision is obviously not the only company that does this, but I can’t say many of the others are willing to do things like lie to the people who’s job is to warn people about these things. Fuck. Straight. Off.

Let it be known despite all that I am still a big Crash fan. I love the game. I’m eagerly anticipating Beenox to confirm Pasadena as a playable racer, I want to see how Brio looks in the game as well as what kind of race track the game will see when he is introduced, I want to see the Spyro stuff, I want to see what kind of crazy costumes they make or old school vehicles make a return, etc. I payed $40 for it. That’s the only money I’m giving it because that’s the point. I’m just disappointed. And that’s severely underselling it.

#crash bandicoot #crash team racing nitro fueled #activision #microtransactions #rant

8 notes · View notes

edelwary · 6 years

Note

when you were first getting into art, what and how did you draw? (like did you just doodle ur masterpieces on pieces of paper and posted-notes or did you have a proper sketchbook) how did you find motivation? bc ive been trying to draw but I always get unmotivated and stop while still wanting to get better just by doing nothing.

REALLY LONG, LOTS OF ADVICES FOR ARTISTS :

TL;DR ; skip to the HOW TO ACTUALLY FUCKING DRAW part bc i have a megaton of shit to say lol + The MOTIVATION part

mmh… I’ll get into details with this one tbh bc it’s a long ass process ahah :

I live by the sea ; when i was youung i used to draw TONS of boat, but like, dollhouse boats, you could see the insides and stuff ; i loved to add tiny details and stuff, and imbricate everything together !

around 8 or 9 yo, i went to the public library with school and discovered the wonderful world of mangas ! I basically… Copy pasted an entire Mermaid Melody tome x)

For about 2 years i alternated between reading mangas and trying to copy them ! Then i just kept drawing in the margins of my schoolwork for about… 5 years ! I have a Fuck Ton of sketchbooks of that time, it was… The start. Lol. Never say it’s bad because it’s never bad, just not there yet !!

Around my 13 yo, i went every saturday, for two years, under a bookstore ; there was a cave, and drawing classes ; that teacher was mean and harsh and stuff, but like… Not really. He would take away my eraser for the class, force me to use pencil, to draw something else (bulky boys instead of magical girls).

I’ve learned a lot, more in terms of How To LEARN to draw than to draw itself, but i still progressed a LOT !!

Then i kept drawing by myself for a year and i really worked hard on it ; about hours a day, trying watercolors and stuff ; i have a real problem with colors in traditionnal art, but i’m much better with lines (i should scan some RAD stuff i made in the weekend, yall ive never done anything this good i stg i dont know why i always forget im so much better on paper)

This gets us to my sweet 16 ; i have to year of advance, bc i got ‘’’promoted’’’ idk how to say it ; anyways, i entered my (current) animation school for the first year at 16; vERY IMPRESSIVE AND TERRIFYING.

And i learned. A fuckmegaton. Of shit there.

Now i’m going for my third year there and i can make photorealistic marmora blades and cyberkpunk decors if i want to and that’s rad, but here is

HOW TO ACTUALLY FUCKING DRAW :

I have one HYPER important advice, and i’m keeping it to heart since i’m like, 11 : Have. Sketchbooks. Please !!! It’s very important. Here’s why :

You keep everything with you in one place. You have 1 sketchbook, it’s basically easy to take every where (a A5, or A4 are pretty easy to carry, i have like, 12 of those, and around 8 of A3)

You keep track of what you’ve done. It’s super important, bc first you can cry of laughter at your old stuff bc its cute but not so good, and second, you can just be like ‘holy mama’ and see how much you’ve improved

It’s very important to be organized. I WORK in art, and trust me, if there’s something that i’ve learned this year through tears and missing files and bugs : Be. Impeccable. Now if it’s for fun, go a little loose, and just have a folder for art on your computer, and a sketchbook, no need to stress, but the better you try to keep a record of where is what, the better you’ll see whats wrong

Notebooks are friends !! You can draw, write, glue stuff, make notes, lists, everything !!! I have my life in those. It’s more important to me than any of my phones.

Be proud of it. Like, not everything, duh ! But try to tell yourself than it’s like a RPG ; even if it’s only 2 xp here and there, one day you’ll beat level 40, and that’s super important : art is. Fuckin. Long.

I cant stress it enough. It’s soooo long !!! SO LONG !! it’s years. It’s like karate and fishing and ANYTHING. To be good at it, it takes time, but it WILL COME if you keep trying. There’s no secret passage.

You’re gonna me it, believe in me who believes in you.

Use. References.

Coming from a little shit who’s got a really good visual memory, that can sound like bs, but i stg everything is always AT LEAST twice as good if you’ve used a visual support.

I’m not saying COPY EVRYTHING (even though thats a good training) I’m saying, if you really want to do that asian tiger, please have at least two or three pictures of it nearby. Take photos of your hands, and stuff !

Make it harder.

No eraser.

Paint.

I draw all my backgrounds on my sketchbook with INDIAN INK; no returns, no refunds.

Ink, Ink, INK !! Don’t allow mistakes.

And if you make mistakes :

New page, restart

It’s okay

It’s for you

I once started back again a whole EXAM bc it was bad, i got one of my best grades

You’ll improve and be more assured if you know you just have to DO IT. Trust me. It’s VISIBLE; if you can erase, you fidget and hesitate and ‘’kbeujebez hahhaaa idkkidsd’’ ; stop ; do it, and if you don’t like it ? Try again, there’s no time limit

Draw as large as you can

There’s no interesting story here, it just helps. Bigger movement of the hand, more place for details, breathing lines

Thin lineart helps

Thinner. Make it even thinner

Break the rules, but not the ones that structure your art

Big lineart ? Why not

Unfinished lines, vaporeous colors ? Pretty

Cubism is actually based on extensive and intense practice of classical art, it’s not wibbly wooblly ; the anatomy is more correct than you think

Structure and composition are important, but so is movement and life ; choose your fighter ; mine is fluidity and fun, i’m like, a rogue/archer in drawing. Some people are dwarf fighter. That’s amazing and great.

Don’t be afraid to do nothing

Pages and pages of my sketchbooks are actually just lance facing right and smiling, you know…

Sometimes it just doesnt work : two ways :

Take a break, Kiki’s delivery service style

Keep trying, break your art until it obeys and comes back

Take breaks. Breath.

Don’t compare. I do it, it doesn’t help at all. You’ll make it ; and if you compare, keep in mind that everyone’s different

I’m not gonna lie, it’s NOT easy, it’s even hard

But I really, really think it’s worth it

MOTIVATION :

My main bitch

I’m always pumped for art because i can LITTERALLY NOT do anything else ; i love reading and writing and stuff but at the end of the day i just want !!! to draw !!!! aaaaaa-

Fall in love with it, and with the possibilities ; i have stories to tell, tell me yours ! Do your best, one day it WILL work

Actual advices :

I have an inspiration blog where i just reblogs stuff i like to draw them later

Find a picture, copy it. Do it again. Change the characters (i have 2 ocs and Lance and Keith as default characters) in the pic.

Like an artstyle ? Break it to its very core, analyse it, copy it, redo it, trace it and ABSORB it. Don’t copy/past, LEARN from your heroes.

Do what you like. I have 86578 pieces of voltron, this is not a coincidence. I have ENDLESS ideas for this show, wtf.

Try new things. Buy indian ink im begging you. It’s so cool.

Have a game with yourself, or a challenge. STICK TO IT.

Study. When you’re bored, usually it’s because you’re stagnating. Make it harder or do hands until you cry.

Love your backgrounds; make backgrounds, study trees, and tokyo streets, and venice’s bridges. Decor is just as cool as characters, if not more

Mess a little with everything. My roomate more than one found me stained from head to toes trying to DO STUFF

Draw outfits. Draw what you want but can’t afford

MAKE YOUR LIFE A COMIC. Remember those sketchbooks ? Make a comic a week/month/every full moon, whatever, and draw your life (mine’s the roomates au lol)

Prompts blogs are cool too

Make fanart of a fic you liked ; you have the characters and the pose already, you just have to illustrate ; double bonus, you probably will make a writer’s day, if not year !

That little movie that plays when you listen to your favorite song ? DRAW IT

Your favorite scene in your favorite movie ? Redraw each shot. On post it. Plus it looks awesome afterwards to have the infamous TREX scene of Jurassic Parks in post it

Get bored. That’s inevitable. Dance, scream, get back to it. Walk, draw everything you see.

Make a paper google map street view : Take a walk : every 50 meters, draw what is in front of you.

Snapchats your friends. Draw their snapchats when they answer

Draw maps. Invent places. Invent bikes, and hovercrafts, and monsters. Make your everyday inventory. Make your life a video game, and do the concept arts of it.

FETCH your inspiration. I have approx. 20 artbooks, full of drawings and concept arts of my fave movies/games ; take what you like and add it to the story you have since you’re 8. We all have one.

Ask for it ; your sis, your mom, me even ! If you dont have ideas, someone will have them.

WELL i’m gonna stop there, even though i got like, 9864567 more to say, but with this you should be fine ! Anon, i’m rooting for you ! we all start somewhere, just hold on!!!!

#Anon you'll do it !!!!!!!!!!#asked #artist advice #art #i put my heart in this omg #it's 1.5 K WORDS #wtf #but yeah #you just gotta do shit and mess around

91 notes · View notes

sainadazai · 3 years

Text

When your crush is angry all the time

Ch.5

"I don't think fire's all that bad, you know"

3rd person pov

°•○●○•°•○●○•°

As the sun hung high in the sky the h/t haired girl stumbled around the train station in search of a restroom. Y/n had never experienced the mundane tasks a commoner would usually persue on a daily. Things like public transit, or any transit for that matter, were an enigma to her.

So while elder men stared a little too long and young children pointed at her in recognition, she spun in circles like a lost puppy.

"Its just a fucking bathroom, should there be someone here to direct people or something! Ugh and whats with the school girl fetish, these old guy are creeps..." she mumbled to herself continuing to get more and more lost on the platform.

Meanwhile, the rest of 1-A were making their way to internships as well, Midoriya scrolled into some old guys house, Kirishima bumped into his metal replica, and Bakugou held his grump posture and nonchilauntly entered the top 3 heros agency. He was expecting to at least learn something from this guy, or gain real life experience with villains. He never anticipated being scrutinized for his personality. No shit I'm scary, Im trying to kill shitty villains not make teenage girls put a picture of me on their wall.

For the first day of this new challenged everbody seemed to be having a ridiculously mundane time. Not y/n, though. No our main character was going through it, once she made it to the restroom, she got confused by how easily the toilet paper ripped in her hand and spent 20 minutes trying to get at least one whole time out of the stubborn roll. Then, when she opened up her bag to view the new hero-suot her mother helped design...she found strings¿

She ended up having to look at an example picture and read a guide on how to put what where. It took an additional hour considering the tightness of everpiece of fabric and when she stepped out of the stall to look in the mirror, she deadpanned. How could her mother hate her this much? It was already a burden being so sexy, but this? This was crazy.

She wasnt sure weather she should take a million photos, or never leave the bathroom and cry all day. However when her phone rang, a call from Mr.Woods agency, she realized how late she already must be.

In her rush, y/n also forgot about the creeps men and was recieving many stares, that went unnoticed. Until somebody had the audacity to touch her. It was just a ghost of his finger tips on the underneath of her ass that was no doubt on full display. That would not go accepted, as a girl who had turned her past trauma into nothing but a small personality traits, she wasnt scared. Still, as a woman who absolutely idolizes herself, or so she says, no one in this train station deserved the touch of her perfect, shiny, s/c skin.

The last error that secured her terrible first day was how y/n spun around and grabbed the mans fingertips. When she took a glance at him, he was smiling as if he had acomplished something. Boy was he wrong, only coming to realized so when the y/h girl suddenly had sprouted a vine from his finger.

He watched in fear as it began to grow and wrap around him, all the while the young girl he'd never met before let out a sickening aura that couldve suffocate him then and there. The vine continued to curl up around his middle and ring finger, slowly meeting the flash of his palm.

Once the growing stopped, y/n had almost decided to let him go. A part of her new that her plan wasn't well thought through, and he could be an innocent guy that accidentally touched her.

However, aggression outwayed logic and she looked him deep in the eye.

"You like using these fingers to touch things your not supposed to?"

"N-n-"

"Shhh, dont worry, im just gonna make sure you dont go touching things that arnt yours, okay?" She made an aggresive fist with the hand not touching him and the vine squeezed in. Anyone a foot away would be able to tell, but the both of them could hear how his two fingers snapped and bent under the pressure.

With a satisfied grin at the whispering man, y/n decided he had learned his lesson. Wow look at that, and I didnt even need some manly hero to come save me. Atta girl y/n.

Little did she know that not only did her pro-hero boss come to look for her, but je also saw the whole disaster. He was not pleased to say the least.

Y/n pov

°•○●○•°•○●○•°

As the tree like man sat down in his office chair across from me, all I could do was look to my feet. I didnt feel particularily had about my actions, however, I did feel bad about being late.

While it is fun to be spontanious and act like theres nothing to lose, I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to control the earth aspect of my quirk. Ill never admit it if someone asks, but sometimes the only way I can sleep at night is knowing how strong my quirk is. Knowing that they cant hurt me if I stay strong.

Still, it just seems that as I grow older, the people trying to get to be get bolder and more powerful. Some might even say...they get smarter, too. Thats a scary thought; that if I want to stay alive at all I need to be constantly improving. I am not sure if I want to stay alive or not, but Ill be damned if dying or living isnt my choice.

Feeling the need to break the silence, I began my rant on all the reasons I had come up with that justify my actions. I was planning it on the way out here.

"Look, im sorry mr.woods. I know im not very heroic and shit, but when perverts to pervert things somebody has to do something, and its not like anybody else there would have scared a glance if I didnt save myself-"

"Your wrong."

"Huh- I wasnt done. Anyways i-"

"L/n you are wrong."

"Dude im trying to-"

"There was heroes on patrol, how else did you think i found you? There were real heroes ready to protect you, if you had simply shouted people would have been alarmed of such. I dont understand kids and their need to do everything alone." He rolled his eyes behind his mask and continued to stare at me.

"Excuse me but I dont think your in a place to comment on how I react to myself being touched. He was gonna get my skin dirty and for what, two seconds of his school girl fantasy. Ew."

"Your skin....dirty?"

"Yes, he is nowhere near my standards on someone who should be allowed to touch me...not even a brush of the fingers..ugh!"

"Alright well, I cant get you in trouble because then I get in trouble...so, tell me about your quirk while we go on patrol."

His chair sqeaked against the floor as he stood up and it slid back. Then he motioned for me to follow by painting out the door.

Relieved that I didn't have to talk about all the fake reasons people aren't allowed to touch me, and that I could finally get outside so my quirk would stop suffocating me, I was quick to exit the building.

I'm not sure if its the fact that ive only been using a forth of her, but my quirks side effects have been so shitty recently. To the point that our school nurse estimsted my new rate for being inside for an extended period of time was about three hours.

I havent actually combusted in years, but I've been close and god does it hurt. My chest starts to squeeze and I can feel all the energy drain from my body, then pieces of me start to get hold and cold at the same time.

"So what really is your quirk?"

I looked up at the hero next to me as we continued on down the street of the inner City.

"How much did Aizawa tell you?"

"I-he said...she has all the right elements? And told me I'd figure it out.." He scratched the back of his head.

I smirked at that. Who knew aizawa actually listened to the words I said. I was pretty sure after the whole sulking chrollos dick thing, he would have permanently tuned me out.

"Heh, that raggedy ann bastard" I smile smugly.

"So, what does it mean?"

"Ahh, okay so, did you go to U.A?"

"Um yes kid, why?"

Then im certain je knows of my family, explaining my quirk will be easier. God, this really is my favorite part.

I reached my left hand out, knowing he was right handedly and would respond well to it and then spoke.

"Hi, nice to meet you, im y/n l/n of the elementus royal quirk family."

Once he shook my hand I did a polite curtsey, as I learned in ballet to do that instead of bowing. Its much more fun to do this at family event, where I get to wear big dresses and pretend im important...but this'll have to do.

"The-i-oh shit..." He mumbled the last part in defeat, likely just figuring out what he'd gotten himself in to.

"So, im guessing you've got ...."

"Total control, yup" I confirmed.

"And you wanna focus on earth elements, like what flowers?"

I smirk up at him allowing my aura to put an intimidating facade.

"Actually I was thing more like venus fly traps" as I said traps I let my hands clap together mimicking the plant and bit at the air with my teeth.

He stopped walking and just glanced from side to side, waiting for me to start making sense again.

Until we heard some crying in the distance.

The two of our heads shot over and were met with a strange sight. There were three young boys, looked about 8¿ and a man, hero maybe? Crouched in front of them not looking all that nice. He had spike blonde hair, red eyes, gauntlets on his wris-

"Oh my god its bakugou, look sir! Thats the hot guy I switched schools for!"

"Wha-"

"BAKUGOUUUU!! HEYYY!"

his head slowly shifted from the kids to me and it seemed to only make him more angry. Then, once again I couldn't help but bask in the pure aggression...in his eyes.

They were red, fitting for the anger thry held, but it was beautiful. It was passionate, the way he could yell for hours about god knows what because he cares. He may care about petty things, or silly things, but he always cares so much. So passionately. That I can see it in his eyes.

"Oh my, whAt is this costume deary?"best jeanist spoke from ahead of us as we approach.

"Hi sir, sorry about the skin showing, my quirk is heavily enhanced the more my pours are exposed to the natural elements, especially oxygen. If I was more covered parts of my body would begin to go completely numb. Also doesnt my body look amazing! Im a lot more in shape since you saved me last"

I blamed happily at jeanist. Though we arent neceserilly close, he is definitely a great hero and has always been someone who easily sees through my façaude. Plus his fashion sense is wonderful and I often send him pictures of my outfits. Although he doesnt respond I know he sees them and if they were bad he would be mean about it instead of ignoring it.

"Well. It definitely gives your body..access to that. And the sword?"

Ahh...the sword that I liked to carry. It was now stored in its place on my back.

"Call it a good luck charm, plus, we cant rely only on our quirks, then we are just weak people with strong powers. Rather than strong people."

I was always one to put on a show for him, as I do for lost of pro heroes. Its a lot more fun to say things like your all serious and fancy and smart sometimes. Its my little inside joke with myself, like to laugh at how easily people are awed by it.

Like how even though children were still crying bakgou was staring at me face void of emotion, completely struck at my words.

Definitely not..staring at my body that was exposed. Not eyeing the tight strap that wraps my left leg, that he doesnt know is a funcional lasso.

Noticing him, im quick to avert my attention.

"Hey bakugou~"

"Tch you really went from shitty princess to slutty princess huh?"

"You really went from telling deku you'd be number one hero, to making kids cry on the street, huh?" I challenged

I heard the crying boys laugh a little, just the age reminded me of my brother, Im sure they have nothing in common, but I havent seen any of my brothers in quite some time so I suppose a small part of me was just projecting.

I hated that they were crying, though. Ussually I dont like kids, they are stinky and gross and the main reason people have been ruining my life up til now. However, noticing these three reacting to bakugou in a way I wish emotionally available enough for, it made me feel obligated to help them. Wierd, huh.

"Hey, did that guy use his fire all scary?"

"Yeah, he was gonna kill us"

"Fires scary."

I giggled a bit, I knew fire like the back of my hand. It was the first thing I mastered as a child and the way I see bakugou use it doesnt to the element justice.

"Hm, well, I dont think so...can I show you something?"

The kid in the middle, apparently the braver of them, lifted his gaze from the concrete to meet my eyes. Just as I crouched down to my knees in front of them he nodded up at me.

I smiled at this, proud that I earned his trust for...some odd reason.

My hands formed a cup shape in front of him and I focused my ears so I could hear the blood rushing through my own brain, like waves. This was how I learned to use elements singularly: by using my internally noise to block out everything else.

I first allowed a small line of fire to dance around, now bigger than a candle wick. Then through another, and another as the boy watched carefully. Not yet impressed his face was still caustious. However I continued focusing my energy, feeling my body, the air around me, the heat of the sun, even remember the passion from bakugous crimson eyes.

I as I did so the many small flames twirled and twisted within eachother forming into a beautiful blue and orange fluctuating flower.

The boy looked into my hands mouth now agape, tears dried, fear gone. Then, again, for some reasons unbeknownst to me... I felt a sense of pride.

He tapped his friends so they would look up and I continued making my fire into different things, birds, planes, people. The kids were entranced.

I looked back to see the two pros staring at me with a certain level of pride mixer with shock. While bakugou seemed at a loss for words. God knows why this time?

"I don't think fire is all that bad you know..."

"Pft, yeah, I know kid," with that I threw my little flames above their heads and let the sparks fall down of them like shiny glitter. Then, overwhelmed with this horrible feeling in my chest. I retreatdd to my boss for the weak. Was that..happiness? Ew.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakusquad #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha deku #mha fanfiction #mha todoroki #mha fluff

0 notes

bluesrrgents · 7 years

Note

Hi dear!! So sorry to bother you (again because i've asked you for fic recs before and they WERE amazing so im back aha) but would hav any good jerejean fic recs?? Ive become kinda obsessed with them

hii you’re never a bother!! sorry this took so long i lost my list of jerejean fics that i’ve read r i p zoe! they’re all under the cut and * means i haven’t read it yet, and please make sure to look at the warnings if you have any triggers!! have fun reading:)

thanks again to everyone who offered me some more recs :)

*hair dye by profslupin

Renee convinces Jean to let her dye his hair. The rest is exactly what you’d expect. (2k)

*mirrors by profslupin

The Trojans help Jean learn to look in the mirror and see himself instead of his scars

“Jean had a complicated relationship with his appearance. It wasn’t that he was insecure about his flaws, necessarily, but rather that they reminded him of his time in the Nest. Of his time with him.” (2.6k)

*watermarked by fairietailed

He hops into the kitchen on one foot, catching his mother before she carries the bowl of peas she’s holding into the dining room.

“Jeremy?” Her eyebrows pull together in concern at the look on his face. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” he says, sticking out his foot. “I think it’s my soul mate?”

–

In which bruises and scars from your soulmate appear on your skin, and Jeremy’s skin is a myriad of colored stains. (4.6k)

*and i wanna come home to you. by redhoods

He’s so absorbed in staring at the way the sleeves are pulled up around his wrists that he doesn’t realize the team has filed out to the locker rooms until Jeremy crouches into his line of sight, “Everything alright?”

No, he thinks desperately, you’re too much.

“Sure,” he says eventually, standing up and walking away.

this is actually two parts, so it’s about 6k total

*the smell of honey by lilaliacs

Martha’s was a cozy little coffee shop that always smelled of honey, lilacs and something that couldn’t be described as anything less than home.And that’s what it was to Jeremy, who had spent his childhood sat on a stool at the tiny bar, coloring in the patterns of the menus, or watching his mother creating the most beautiful cakes and pastries that he had ever seen.

The place was filled with good memories and everyone who came in could sense the atmosphere of peace that seemed to fill the soft light falling in through lacy curtains at any time of day. In fact, multiple patrons had stated that they came in for exactly this, for a break from their everyday stress, to just grab a coffee and absorb whatever magic the smell of Martha’s cakes emitted and it was something Jeremy’s mother was very proud of.It was also something Jeremy was very proud of, and the reason for him to put his all in making the customers’ time there worthwhile.He never thought that one day, doing that would be a challenge.

(AU in which everything is the same only that Jeremy isnt captain of the trojans but works in his mom’s coffeeshop instead) (11k)

*eyes wide open by jaylocked

Jean blinked. Blinked again. Was sure he didn’t recognize the man on his doorstep, with his bright eyes and enormous grin and wavy blonde hair. Waited for him to explain himself with a simple raised eyebrow.

“Hi!” the man finally chirped. The sound was happiness channeled into a single word, and Jean wasn’t sure how he didn’t hate him already.

(based on the prompt from tumblr: “hi sorry I live below you and I hear your dog running around and barking all the time and– no no it’s fine I was just wondering if I could pet it?” au) (13k)

*i’ll come crashing by exyfexyfoxes

Hades/Persephone in the modern world where Jean runs an underground club that herds the souls of the dead. It’s a place where even gods die if they stay too long, regardless of how many pomegranate seeds they eat. Jean wants out. Jeremy wants in. Everybody wants them far away from each other. (19k)

*je reviens by laarusthefirst

‘Moreau is a rain cloud,’ Alvarez muttered, annoyed and bruised, watching Jean stalk ahead to the changing rooms. ‘He’s the human embodiment of a headache. He is the opposite of a Trojan.’‘Fucking good though, isn’t he?’ grinned Connor, jogging past.‘Can’t we all just be nice?’ Jeremy asked. (20k)

*this ink is still drying by ghostqueen

You can’t control who you want and you can’t control who hurts you

Jeremy was staring at Jean’s arms, tracing the bright swirls and splotches of ink that made up his sleeves with his eyes. His sleeves had been months of work and they still weren’t quite complete, he was still figuring out how to finish them. The first tattoo on his arms had been eight months ago, his first tattoo had been long before that. (26k)

*thick skin, an elastic heart by badacts

Jean sleeps around and learns how to make friends rather than alliances. Jeremy falls in love and can’t stop fucking up. (26k)

*ask the messenger by metis_ink

Jeremy Knox and the soulmate.

Guest starring: Exy, a transfer student, generalized anxiety, older sisters, drunk lesbians, bread, cake, a shed, the beach, the absence of Hennessy, Star Wars, Renee Walker, self-taught smooth talking, gratuitous French, No. 1 Trojans fan Kevin Day, relationship drama, general drama, the power of Friendship, questions, answers, team spirit!, and, of course, romance. (32k)

he could taste the stars by subtlehysteria

Jean is still adjusting to being a Trojan, Jeremy tries to help Jean open up to his new team. (47k)

*shield for a heart by neilskey

“It’s your choice, but you’re rotting away in here, Jean and no matter what she says, you can’t live in Abby’s spare bedroom forever. Time to start fighting again.”

Kevin’s hard and commanding tone was no surprise. The softness had been beaten out of him around the same time as Jean.

“What if I don’t want to anymore?”

Maybe it was because he had been half hidden in shadows-Jean had kept the shades drawn, but light still seeped in the cracks- but Jean thought he had seen something akin to understanding paint Kevin’s cool expression.“He’s gone. You survived. Play or don’t, it’s up to you, but you need to get out of this fucking house.”//Jean’s first year at USC. Jeremy falls hard, Jean comes around eventually. (55k)

*a little illumination by lazarusthefirst

Jean’s a lonely firefighter, and Jeremy teaches kindergarten. Everyone learns something about themselves. (56k)

*shooting for the stars, desperately reaching for something in the dark by cryptidkidprem

“He just won’t be back in black.”

A look at Jean’s first year with the Trojans, and his slightly rocky path to recovery. (146k)

WIPs:

*these streets by profslupin

alternate title: Jean and Jeremy’s Guide to an Epic Cross Country Road Trip

After one of Alvarez’s pranks leaves the boys stranded in South Carolina after a game, they decide to take the long route home. (1.6k, chapters 1/?)

*under the sun by knox_moreau

Jean Moreau is an exy player, not a writer. At least that’s what he thinks. His newfound therapist, however, has other ideas. Seeing as Jean refuses to talk to her in his hour-long therapy sessions, Ms. Dawson suggests perhaps writing down whatever he’s keeping inside. Jean can’t possibly see how he’s expected to write when he has nothing to write about. Then comes Jeremy Knox, in all his brightness and magnitude. Maybe, Jean thinks, he has something to write about. (7.2k, ch. 5/?)

*daffodils & gardenias by profslupin (any and all works by meg sponsored by this blog)

Jeremy Knox is the owner of a tattoo parlor when Jean Moreau opens up a flower shop next door. Jeremy gets a crush, but thankfully Laila and Alvarez are there to play matchmaker, with the help of Renee. (14k, ch. 9/?)\

*leaving marks by blackcatiiix

In a world where your soulmate’s injuries appear as bruises on your skin, Jeremy is… struggling. And that’s even before he meets Jean Moreau. (46k, ch. 12/?)

*marrow without bone by exyfexyfoxes

Onscreen Jeremy didn’t hesitate, displaying an eagerness that translated well across television. “Yeah, I spoke to Jean earlier this week. He’s definitely done for the year but he’ll be back in the fall.”Then, impeccably, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “He just won’t be back in black.“Jean’s eyes narrowed.

(The season hasn’t even started yet and Jeremy already wants to cut their newest player from the team. Making the switch from Raven to Trojan isn’t quite what Jean thought it would be.) (68k, ch. 18/20)

#ask #tfc fic #tfc fic rec #fic #fic rec #aftg fic #aftg fic rec #tfc #aftg #the foxhole court #all for the game #jeremy knox #jean moreau #jerejean #tfc fanfic #aftg fanfic #zoe.txt

89 notes · View notes

theredheaddevil · 4 years

Text

fuck it 70 questions

this has been in my drafts for 2 years so im impulsively doing it now og post

full thing under the cut cuz its long and super out of date

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? nah, kinda sketch, but bareable these days 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? v 03: Do you regret anything? i regret eating an entire bag of fudge earlier... i feel kinda sick rn 04: Are you insecure? sometimes. but mostly about uh typing which is wack considering im doing this 05: What is your relationship status? single, but i have a qpp. 06: How do you want to die? [redacted] 07: What did you last eat? fudge... so much friggin fudge 08: Played any sports? sorta but not in a while now 09: Do you bite your nails? nah, shits gross 10: When was your last physical fight? probs a controlled spar a year or two back but other than that i havent really been in fights to my knowledge 11: Do you like someone? platonically aye 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? ye sleep deprivation 101 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? yeah but mentioning them is petty an shit aint worth the emotional labour 14: Do you miss someone? yeah. 15: Have any pets? technically no but my mother has a rabbit an hes basically mine 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? lil tired, melancholy ?? bit with a bit of dread ?? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? nope 18: Are you scared of spiders? nah, but i wont pick them up after a certain size 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? ye 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? the information youre lookin for aint here, never have done an idk if i ever will 21: What are your plans for this weekend? uh idk tbh so heres my plans for tomorrow. -dye my hair - go out for coffee - paint - look at the uni notes, maybe stare into space - phone the doctor 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? no and 0 23: Do you have piercings? How many? yes and 8 currently but i want more 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? art, english and at one point i was good at history tho tbh i was cheating with the dates 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? occasionally 26: What are you craving right now? mouthwash 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? at this point with how some folk have reacted when ive turned them down, probably 28: Have you ever been cheated on? nope 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? never dated 30: What’s irritating you right now? the length of my hair 31: Does somebody love you? as edgy as this sounds, i sure hope not? i dont vibe 32: What is your favourite color? hard to say, red, blue and yellow r what i say. 33: Do you have trust issues? we dont talk about that 34: Who/what was your last dream about? y last dream was actually an apocalypse one. so a lot of faces of folk i dont know with a lot of dread but a peak time ngl 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? my brother i think? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? sometimes, but usually when i say something is final its final 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? forget 38: Is this year the best year of your life? nope but i dont wanna say one point is objectively better 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? data not found cuz shit hasnt happened 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? nope 51: Favourite food? nah, 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? depends on the circumstance 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? read fanfiction cuz bih i read a surprising amount 54: Is cheating ever okay? an exam , yeah duh on someone, noooooooooooooo jesus 55: Are you mean? sometimes but usually for good reason i feel 56: How many people have you fist fought? if sparing counts ... a lot 57: Do you believe in true love? not really ???? 58: Favourite weather? i love snow, rain, thunderstorms an when is fookin windy 59: Do you like the snow? yeas 60: Do you wanna get married? not really? it always feels like such a wacky thing financially an socially for something that you shouldn't need to “prove” but tbh i dont really understand a lot of things with relationships 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? ... no 62: What makes you happy? i like to draw, an tbh i good fic 63: Would you change your name? yeah, ive done so and id do it again 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? never have done so there is not last person 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? this post is old af. the answer is nothing, theyre still my friend 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? not really nah 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? i dont know tbh 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? idk deep conversations aint something i have these days. 69: Do you believe in soulmates? nope! but it is usually a fun story trope for comedy 70: Is there anyone you would die for? nah ?

okay christ this was outdated more so than i thought. idk why i wanted to do this 2 years ago but eh its done now an tbh if you read this i have questions and all of them r “why?????????”

#ginger speaks #text post

0 notes

fatgumtouille · 6 years

Note

all the creepy shit, i dare you to answer all of it

MATT PLEASE omg ok

1. Think of the last person who said I love you, do you think they meant it?

idk who I said it to tbh??? probably @trenazlore and YES I LOVE HER SO MUCH !!

2. Would you date an 18-year-old at the age you are now?

NO OH MY GOD IM JUST AN OLD GRANDMOTHER

3. When’s the last time you were aggravated and happy at the same time?

always ???? I mean like lately people have been really nice to me and Im happy because wow!! you like me!! also Im aggro because I hate me lol

4. Would you ever smile at a stranger?

Yeah I smile at them all the time?? Its kind of something I got used to after working retail for so long

5. Is there someone mad because you’re dating/talking to the person you are?

Im not dating anyone lol also who the fuck cares ???

6. Have you heard a song that reminds you of someone today?

Heathens by 21p is ALWAYS on the radio and it reminds me of @bearlylocal because Josh Dunn is her boy

7. What exactly are you wearing right now?

omg my Yamaguchi Tadashi cosplay shorts and a Celty Sturluson t shirt with the neckline cut lower and the sleeves cut off

8. How often do you listen to music?

Every day but its usually pandora or the radio in the car

9. Do you wear jeans or sweats more?

Im not a pants wearing girl but I wear jeans/nicer pants to work

10. Do you think your life will change dramatically before 2013?

TWENTY THIRTEEN

11. Are you a social or an antisocial person?

Social! I used to be antisocial but working in retail has really helped me open up to people and now I wont SHUT. UP

12. Have you ever kissed someone whose name begins with the letter ‘A’?

Nope

13. What about ‘R’?

No lol

14. Can you drive a stick shift?

NOOOO Scary

15. Do you care if people talk badly about you?

Yeah and no like ???? Ok if I dont know abot it then whatever I guess

16. Are you going out of town soon?

Going up to LA for an anime con in January!!

17. When was the last time you cried?

I almost cried last night for no reason??? um probably a few days or weeks ago???

18. Have you ever told someone you loved them?

yeah all the time!

19. If you could change your eye color, would you?

I would LOVE green eyes omg

20. Is there a boy who you would do absolutely everything for?

FATGUM Or Justin Tomimori OR my pet rabbit Quincy

21. Name something you dislike about the day you’re having.

I bought a vacuum that was too small and now I have to take it back to the store ugh

22. Is it cute when guys kiss you on your forehead?

Sure!

23. Are you dating the last person you talked to?

NO Omg

24. What are you sitting on right now?

my bed which is currently unmade and naked (also theres a bunny in my lap!)

25. Does anyone regularly (other than family) tell you they love you?

Kristin and I say it to each other all the time ! Also Danni and most of my other friends

26. Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have?

YEAh

27. Who was the last person you talked to before you went to bed last night?

UUUuhhh tumblr user @fatyumm

28. Do you get a lot of colds?

Maybe one or two bad ones a year

29. Where is the shirt you are wearing from?

I think I bought it at an anime con?

30. Does anyone hate you?

P sure my two ex besties lol

31. Do you have any empty alcohol bottles hidden somewhere in your room?

AHAHAHAHAHAhahahahahahahHH YEAh

32. Do you like watching scary movies?

I love scary movies omg!!! rec me some !

33. Do you want your tongue pierced?

No Im too much of a weenie for that

34. If you had to delete one year of your life completely, which would it be?

GOD

freshman year of college? I would want to never move away fro school tbh

35. Did you have a dream last night?

YEAH it was almost sexy but I kept getting INTERRUPTED

then I had another one with my ex bestie in it

36. When was the last time you told someone you loved them?

Last night!

37. Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years?

Doubful

38. Do you think someone has feelings for you?

At least two tumblr anons I think

39. Do you think someone is thinking about you right now?

I hope so!

40. Did you have a good day yesterday?

I felt really sick when I first got to work and then later on before bed but other than that it was ok

41. Think back 2 months ago; were you in a relationship?

lol no try a whole year back

42. In the next 48 hours, will you hang out with a girl?

I HOPE The cute sample girl is working at the store Im stationed at tomorrow

43. Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you?

not that I can think of off the top of my head

44. What’s the best part about school?

NOTHIng

45. Do you have any pictures on your Facebook?

So many

46. Do you ever pass notes to your friends in school?

I DID in like seventh grade lol

47. Do you replay things that have happened in your head?

YEA all the time

48. Were you single over the last summer?

Think so, yeah!

49. Is your life anything like it was two years ago?

nope! I dont go to school anymore and i dont work at a pet store so things are p different

50. What are you supposed to be doing right now?

fuck idk??? Id LIKE to be writing fic

51. Do you hate the last guy you had a conversation with?

My dad ???? No but he IS a homophobe

52. Are you nice to everyone?

I try really hard to be !

53. Have you ever liked someone you didn’t expect to?

YYEeeeaaaa

54. Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months and not cheat?

Ive done it before and I know I can do it again

55. Are you good at hiding your feelings?

Im SO good at pretending Im not crying

56. Do you think you like someone?

Fatgum

57. Have you kissed someone whose name starts with a ‘J’?

NOoooo

58. Do you prefer to be friends with girls or boys?

Girls and nb people

59. Has anyone of your friends ever seen you cry?

Kristin had to deal with me crying all through the second half of RENT

60. Do you hate anyone?

No one I know personally but I wouldn’t be mad if something really terrible happene dto T/r/ump

61. How’s your heart?

It’s beatin

62. Is there something that happened in your past that you hate talking about?

UUUMMM.....I just dont really like talking about what I was like in middle school I guess

63. Have you ever cried over a guy?

YEAH64. Who is probably talking a load of crap about you right now?

the ex besties lol

65. Are your toenails painted pink?

they arent painted at all lol

66. Will your next kiss be a mistake?

sure hope not!

67. Girls love it when boyfriends cry; correct?

FUck if I know! I mean, I would hate to see the person Im with crying

68. Have your pants ever fallen down in public?

my pants are always falling down because my butt is small

69. Who was the last person you were on the phone with?

my mom

70. How do you look right now?

probably.....tired

71. Do you have someone you can be your complete self around?

lots of people!

72. Can you commit to one person?

yes!

73. Do you have someone of the opposite sex you can tell everything to?

”Opposite” sexes dont exist but I only have one close guy friend and we havent talked in a while but! I feel like I can tell @adol everything

74. Have you ever felt replaced?

lol when your bestie gets a bf

75. Did you wake up cranky?

no, just exhausted

76. Are you a jealous person?

I like to think not

77. Are relationships ever worth it?

I like to think so but....havent really ever experienced one that was

78. Anyone you’re giving up on?

HMMMmmmm

79. Currently wanting to see anyone?

Id kill to see any of my friends rn but they all live far and Im poor lol

80. Name something you have to do tomorrow?

go to work and sell some Indian food

81. Last person you cried in front of?

honestly, probably Kristin but if we’re counting non humans? my bunnies

82. Is there someone you will never forget?

most of my friends, I HOPE

83. Do you think the person you have feelings for is protective of you?

god I hope Fatgum is protective of me

84. If the person you wish to be with were with you, what would you be doing right now?

I DONT SPEAK JAPANESE so probably just staring at each other awkwardly

(this is about both Fatgum and Justin)

85. Are you over your past?

who knows

86. Have you ever liked one of your best friends of the opposite sex?

WHATS AN OPPOSITE SEX LOL and no

87. Is there anyone you can tell EVERYTHING to?

Kristin!!

88. If your first true love knocked on your door with apology and presents, would you accept?

I mean who says anyone Ive dated in the past has been a “true love” of mine

89. So, the last person you kissed just happens to arrive at your door at 3AM; do you let them in?

IT WAS LITERALLY A RANDO AT SOME ANIME CON SO GOD NO

90. Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated?

UUUUUUmmmmmmm.......I dont think my friends or family were ever fond of some of my exes....

91. Will you be in a relationship in 2 months?

dang, sure hope so

92. Is there anyone you know with the name Michael?

Ye, but we dont talk anymore

93. Have you ever kissed a Matthew?

nah

94. Were you in a relationship in January? How was it going?

No, I had just broken up with someone :/

95. Were you happy with the person you liked in March?

IDK if I liked anyone in March??? I dont think I did

96. Don’t tell me lies, is the last person you texted attractive?

@hamsa-heart???? YES97. Who do you have texts from?

Kristin, Hazel, my mom, my boss, etc

98. If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say?

sucks to suck but live your dreams dude

99. Have you ever kissed someone older than you?

YEa

100. Who’s in your profile picture with you?

I dont think theres anyone else in any of my profile pics

101. Ever kissed under fireworks?

GOD I WISH102. Has anybody ever given you butterflies?

YYEEEAaahhh

8 notes · View notes

ana-yanka · 4 years

Text

Cuir Bouilli

http://www.personal.utulsa.edu/~marc-carlson/leather/leather.pdf

Leather-working in the Middle Ages: Period Leather-working techniques: Cuir Bouilli/Hardened Leather FAQ

Authored by: Marc Carlson

“Cuir-bouilli (From the Oxford English Dictionary, 2d Ed.) Forms: 4/5 quir-, quyr- boilly, -boily, -boyly, -boile, -boyl(l)e, quere- boly, qwyrbolle, coerbuille, -boyle, 6 Sc. cur-, corbule. [F., lit."boiled leather."]

Leather boiled or soaked in hot water, and, when soft, moulded or pressed into any required form; on becoming dry and hard it retains the form given to it, and offers considerable resistance to cuts, blows, etc.

The word was in common English use from 14th to 16th c., after which it is not found till modern times, when it appears as borrowed from modern French.

1375 Barbour Bruce xii. 22 On his basnet hye he bar Ane hat off qwyrbolle. 1386 Chaucer Sir Thopas 164 Hise Iambeux were of quyrboilly [v.r. quereboly]. 1400 Mandeville (Roxb.) xxvi. 123 ai hafe platez made of coerbuille. 1413 Lydg. Pilgr. Sowle iv. xxx. (1483) 80 A feyned hede formed of playstred clothe other of coerboyle. 1513 Douglas ?neis v. vii. 77 Thair harnes thaim semyt for to be Of curbule corvyne sevin gret oxin hydis. 1880 C. G. Leland Minor Arts i. 1 Solid or pressed work, known as cuir bouilli, in which leather after having been boiled and macerated, or rendered perfectly soft, is moulded, stamped, or otherwise worked into form.

Basically Cuir Bouilli is a means of making hardened and stiffened leather. Although there is some disagreement among some leatherworkers as to how this is accomplished, there is a significant amount of evidence to think that it was done by molding wet vegetable tanned leather. This leather can be formed into any number of forms, which, on drying, will retain that shape. The wet leather can be set more firmly by drying it under moderate heat, the degree of rigidity obtained being determined by the drying temperature. A faster method, which produces extremely hard and rigid shapes, is to dip the molded leather into boiling water for anywhere from 20 to 120 seconds. This technique causes the partial melting of the fixed tannin aggregates in the leather, making them plastic, causing them to flow and redistribute themselves throughout the fiber network of the leather. On cooling, the fibers become embedded in what can best be called a tough, three-dimensional, polymer network or resin. [...]

There is a great deal of confusion about the term "cuir bouilli" in the literature about leather. Some sources seem to think that it was shaped/hardened with wax, others by wetting, shaping, and drying.”

[...]

By DR OBUV (From the Crispin Coliquy, 21 January - 27 January 1999)

"The cuir bouilli is the leather of ox or cow 'bouilli' in wax mixed with various gums, resins, and pastes, which are kept secret by the sheath and scabbardmakers. Article 13 of the statutes of the sheath and scabbardmakers of Paris, which are dated 12 September 1560, allows that it is forbidden for the trade to make leather bottles with any other leather than cow or ox, because other leathers are not suitable, and that the above-mentioned bottles must be 'boulues' with only new/fresh wax and nothing else, and stitched with double-seams from both sides [i.e. double-looped hand stitch, not a running stitch-ED], strong and durable." -- Roland de la Platiere, 1788 in 'Encyclopedie Methodique' [Paris,1790]

Key here are the various ways in which "bouilli" and "boulues" are used. Literally "boiling" the leather, as in dunking it into a vat of hot waxes is the immediate and easy assumption, but upon removing the object and its "last", the waxes would rapidly cool and leave an object encased in a mess solidified waxes.

"The Shoemaker uses several kinds of wax. [...] Bootmaker's jacking/wax is made from two pounds of collophony [NB -- highly refined/brittle pine rosin from Colophon, Lydia. The German edition has 'pitch' or 'black pitch' here] and one pound of yellow wax [NB -- raw beeswax] with lampblack [NB -- powdered carbon from oil fires] to suit, all melted together. This jacking/wax is used by Bootmakers to penetrate the leather of jack boots and to make them stiff as wood... The Shoemaker uses this wax for certain heavy shoes that the lower sort and peasants wear, but while making it he reduces the amount of colophony."

"Having one pair of boots... over their boot trees and previously wet, but now dry, take a coarse wood rasp, which is rubbed over the whole boot-leg to remove the fluff which stands up on the flesh; after this you proceed with the jacking/waxing... The place for jacking/waxing must be a room with a chimney, paved or tiled [NB-- "...where there is no fear of fire" in one edition]; near the top of the chimney, outside, is attached an iron chain which dangles to within six inches of the floor or there-abouts. You ready yourself for jacking/waxing by putting a small portable stove or lit brazier on a table to your left, on which you place a kettle containing the following recipe: One pound of yellow wax, two pounds of colophony, which is pine rosin, and lampblack to suit. You also furnish yourself with a swab, this is the name of a large dauber formed from a bundle of linen rags bound together, and have on your right, on the ground, some loose straw... Begin your task by lighting a little straw, which you wave under the bootleg to singe it, in other words to burn the rest of the fluff from the leaher that the rasp did not remove; afterward dip the swab in the BOILING [NB -- emphasis added] jacking/wax with which you coat the entire bootleg. Then continually rotate the boot-tree with your hands over a steady straw fire so that the heat makes the jacking/wax penetrate. You put on six sucessive coats in the space of an hour, being very careful to occasionally moisten the bootleg so it will not scorch, and so it takes two hours time to jack/wax one pair of boots. The bootleg now jacked/waxed, leave it to cool... When the bootleg has been jacked/waxed, and once more is thouroughly cold, it is full of lumps caused by the boiling jacking/wax with which it was coated and saturated; to remove them take an old knife, and using the blade as a scraper, scrape off all these lumps, then rub with a piece of cold wax that you spread very evenly with a stiff brush or burnishing stick, etc., and you finish-off by polishing and shining with the palm of your hand". -- M. de Garsault, 'l'Art du Cordonnier' [Paris, 1767]

"Lacquered [NB -- literal translation from German] Boots -- A type of stiff boot with or without tops, which are made with the flesh out in the same manner as the jack-boots, and which are given a glossy finish with the following lacquer:

Powdered gum mastic... 1/2 oz. Powdered ivory-black.... 1 oz. White poppy oil... 1 oz. Spikenard oil... 1/2 oz. Asphalt... 1/2 oz. White wax [*]... 1/2 oz.

Add the ingredients seperately, mix in the oils."--D. G. Schreber, 'Der Schuster' [Leipzig, 1769].

While not necessarily a jacking/wax, this formula is interesting. Schreber discusses the superiority of all English boots, and the polishes for them, but says they can't quite get it right. [*, this usually denotes highly refined beeswax that has been rendered and filtered to the point of being nearly pure white--harder than raw yellow beeswax].

"For Jacking The Flaps of Cartridge Boxes Let the flesh side of the leather be shaved smooth, & put outside. When 'tis well dried & warmed, rub it with the following composition, of: 6 pounds of rosin; 1 pound of beeswax; 1/2 pint of spirits of turpentine} all dissolved together and put on hot. Frequently hold the flap to the fire till enough of the stuff enter the pores of the leather, rubbing well. When cool, size it... with a size made of rawhide, rubbing it well. If spirits of turpentine cannot be had, beeswax will answer; but it does not penetrate the leather so quick... To save the jacking stuff, the flaps should be cut out before they are jacked; but it is said that the jacking should not come where the leather afterwards to be sewed as it will be too hard; ... You will try the jacking, both before and after the sewing, and determine which is the best way." -- Timothy Pickering on Jacking cartridge box flaps, Vol. 56, p. 5 [No date, c. 1775]

"We would go to a turner or wheelwright, and get head blocks turned, of various sizes, according to the heads that had to wear them, in shape resembling a sugar loaf; we would then get some strong upper, or light sole leather, cut it out in shape, close it on the block, then grease it well with tallow, and set it before a warm fire, still on the block, and keep turning it round before the fire, still rubbing on the tallow, until it became almost as hard as a sheet of iron... We made the scabbards of our swords of leather, by closing on a pattern of wood, and treating it similar to the cap." -- Recollections of a Revolutionary War Soldier [reprint 1854 edition]

Now then, as we have before us an accumulation of descriptions of the process of hardening leather with heat, pitch, rosin, etc., let me launch a question... since "bouilli", in Abel Boyer's 'Royal Dictionary Abridged' [London, 1700] gives, in addition to "boiled", "warm, boiled, seething, or bubbling up", "to gush out", and even "baked" in connection with "boul"--derived words, what are we led to believe? Under "cuir" he gives "visage de cuir bouilli'; a wainscot face. P. Faire de cuir d'autrui large courroye, To be free of another man's purse." Now wainscot seems to be a stretch, but the connection with wood [as in Garsault's "hard as wood"] is tempting..

...Firstly, just because Chaucer mentions leg-guards of "quirboily", how/why do we assume it was heat and water only, rather than heat and "bouilli" painted-on? Why not dope-hardened leather? Waterer's assumptions aside, why couldn't Chaucer's "quirboily" be doped-hardened leather in the 14th c. as well? Post 1560 in England and France, the suggestion is saturated with rosin, etc., just that the Brits start calling it "jack"ed by the 17th, and drop the Franco-phonic "quirboily" from the vocabulary all together.

Any confusion here regarding "waxed leather", which I agree is NOT "cuir bouilli", is purely accidental I assure you. The problem is in the French use of "cire" for bloody everything vaguely resembling a waxy substance. A bit of care, however; in my translation from Garsault [above] I carefully wrote jacking/wax, where in the French text it's just "cire" [wax], though the French author seems to use "cire" for everything from currier's dubbing, shoemaker's "coad", and "machine" [white coad], up to and including what Pickering just calls "jacking stuff". Garsault also discusses "heavy waxed shoes", [gros souliers cire's]. In this case he says that the un-dyed and un-curried shoe uppers are smeared with a wax [cire] composed of "mutton tallow, a little wax [cire again -- beeswax presumably] and a little more lampblack". This mixture is applied with a dauber dipped in "le cirage chaud" [the warm wax-mix]. Nothing in the text suggests that this form of "wax" stiffens or hardens anything. Quite the contray, it loads it with warm tallow. As a matter of fact, the English term "waxed leather", as in waxed calf, etc. merely refers to a heavily grease-stuffed, blacked on the flesh, uppers leather. In fact, elsewhere Garsault says that blacking on the flesh is more "English", and the French usually blackened their uppers on the grain with dye or stain rather than sooty grease. In French, "waxed leather" is clearly NOT "cuir bouilli".

Finally, why are Chaucer's "quirboily" leg-guards NOT dope-hardened leather? Shouldn't leather armour be hard? I suppose all I'm at here is this, since "cuir bouilli" meant doped-hardened leather from 1560 on in France, and became "jack"ed leather in 17th c. England, why must it mean something different in Chaucer? Are we just trying to leave room for Waterer to be "right" about the heat/water only theory? Impregnating items with rosinous substances to alter their texture hardly seems out of keeping with the most ancient leather-work.”

#sca #leather #cuirbouilli #waxed

0 notes

imreszekeres · 7 years

Text

for the anon that wanted all 100

1. Name- Ash! 2. Age- 18 3. City that you live in- fear, usually 4. What do most people not know about you?- nothing really, i compulsively release useless information about myself 5. What do most people know you for?- being fat and annoying 6. Hobbies- makeup, youtubers, sleeping, writing, drawing 7. What are your passions?- writing 8. What do you search for in a significant other?- i really Really need to be understood, and someone who is patient is nice too 7. What are you most proud of?- I hav gone to State and gotten within the top 10% in my Journalism competitions, which puts me in the top .08% of all high school students in my state. :-) im good for some things 8. When was the last time you had a significant conversation with someone you love?- every day when I talk to @pizzasteveofficial <3 all our conversations are significant 2 me 9. Have you ever collected anything? What was it?- I collect my tears in a jar and store them, then shower in them every night 10. List 10 things off of your bucket list.- I want to get married in the snow, have a daughter, get a Heartagram tattoo (at least one lol), write a successful book, and.. idk what else :0 11. What was the last thing you learned?- jesus I dont know, you learn sth new every day! hard to remember 12. How many relationships have you been in?- um.. 7 I think i feel like im forgetting one tho. I wont name them obvi but i think im forgetting one? i feel like ive been in 8 oh well 13. Turn ons- validation 14. Turn offs- being alive 15. Favorite food- frozen yogurt! I like the vanilla or white chocolate flavor with looots of toppings 16. Favorite drink- Coke 17. What is the best birthday gift you have ever received?- i dont really know! I dont remember a lot of my birthdays for trauma reasons so 18. Are you optimistic or pessimistic?- pessimistic by far lol 19. Do you sleep during class?- its happened a handful of times, I try not to bc I HATE missing work its annoying 20. What is the most expensive thing you own?- myself?? jk its my laptop 21. What is the cheapest yet most useful thing you own?- a 1 dollar ELF blending brush. yall those things are bomb please go buy some! 22. How many times a day on average do you check your phone?- that number does not exist holy shit 23. Text or call?- TEXT BLEASE I HAVE SUCH BAD HEARING 24. Opinion on long distance?- it can work! ive done it a lot of times. distance has never been whats broken a relationship for me, not directly anyway 25. What is your definition of success?- success is when you’re happy. you do not have many worries, not the kind that keep you awake at night or make your tummy sick anyway. You have people that love you and, if you died, you’d be remembered as a good bean 26. Favorite song?- right now im really diggin “Hate (I Really Dont Like You)” by the plain white Ts 27. Favorite artist?- HIM!!!!!!!!!!!! <3 28. Celebrity crush/crushes?- Ville Valo ALWAYS lmao hes my god 29. When was the last time you read for fun?- like last month 30. Favorite flower?- roses 31. What is the best gift you could receive right now?- a plane ticket to Connecticut and like 1000 dollars 32. Any guilty pleasures?- pop... music... BUT LIKE THE GOOD KIND U FEEL? I DONT LIKE STUFF FROM THE LAST 2 OR 3 YEARs... 33. What is one thing you would like to change about yourself?- my weight, and that sounds so shallow but it. is taking a toll on me. 34. What do you search for in a friend?- someone who is like me! 35. How many times have you said "I love you" in the past month?- not enough 36. Where did you last go other than your room/home?- school.. 37. Why do bad things happen to good people?- because life isnt fair 38. In your opinion, what hurts more? Being left out or being stabbed in the eye?- what the fuck being stabbed in the eye have you ever been stabbed in the fucking eye? because i havent and i can already tell you that if my friends were talking without me and then someone stabbed me in the fuCKING EYE I WOULD BE JUST A LITTLE BIT MORE PREOCCUPIED WITH BEING STABBED IN THE E Y E 39. How many green shirts do you own?- none lol 40. Do you like anime?- sure! I dont watch it rn but i dont watch anything rn, haha 41. What do you invest the most time in?- sleeping,, 42. What was the name of the last book you read?- Rebecca :3 very gud book 43. What's the difference between loving and liking someone?- when ur main squeeze gets a hair cut and u still wanna suck their dingus u love em, thats it sorry i dont make the rules 44. Where are you most productive?- i dont.. know what this is asking lol I’m most protective over my romantic partners. As much as I’d love to say im most protective over Sarah, nothing compares to how “troll guarding his treasure” i am w/my loves.......... *eyes @my crush* 45. List 3 things you enjoy doing with friends.- talking shit abt rude ppl, playing vidya gaem, and talking abt life 46. List 3 things you enjoy doing alone.- watching makeup tutorials, watching lets plays, and thinking about everything and anything 47. Do you believe world peace will ever exist?- absolutely not. theres too many people on the earth to achieve that 48. Do you have any allergies?- Not to anything specific but i get them really often seasonally. i get them pretty much every time the weather changes :( 49. When was the last time you cussed at someone?- i mean.. every day of my life so like 50. What was the last promise you made?- idek dude 51. What was your last dream about?- IT WAS SO WEIRD IT WAS ABOUT MY CRUSH’S MOM? I DREAMT THAT SHE WAS A DEMON WHO STORED HER EGGS IN LITTLE PORCELAIN JARS AND THAT MY CRUSH HAD AN EAR INFECTION AND WE WERE IN A SNOWY VILLAGE IDK DONT ASK ME its weird bc my crushs mom is so sweet... 52. If you won a trip to Hawaii and you could take 5 people with you, who would those 5 people be?- i would literally only take Sarah bc i hate everyone 53. How many countries have you visited?- ive never been outside the US 54. What is your favorite medium of art? (Music, dance, painting, etc.)- writing :-) 56. When was the last time somebody complimented you?- those nice anons i got yesterday/the other day! 56. If you switched bodies with someone, how would you recognize yourself?- what do u even mean? youd know bc youd be like THIS ISNT MY BODY 57. Do you consider yourself mature?- kind of, yes 58. How many days in your life do you think you have wasted on tumblr?- too fuckin many 59. What is your favorite quote?- “Worship Satan!” -Ville Valo (no but rly any HIM lyric is my favorite quote, theyre so beautiful,,,) 60. If you started a new religion and you had to create 3 rules or commandments for your new followers to live by, what would those 3 rules be?- dont hurt ppl unless they hurt u, dont touch ppl unless they want u to, and respect gender/sexuality 61. What is your greatest accomplishment?- going 2 state! 62. Do you believe in the death penalty?- yeah i actually think it should b used more lol, kill all rapists and p*dophiles :-) 63. What are your goals for life?- i just wanna b happy, man 64. What do you think your soulmate is doing right now?- being a fucking idiot, probably 65. If you could live anywhere, where would you live? The place can be in an imaginary, fantasy, or the real world.- CALIFORNIA LMAO IM SUCH A SUCKER FOR CALIFORNIA AND I NEVER EVEN BEEN THERE 66. What were you like in 2013?- awful but also really sweet... then again i wasnt TECHNICALLY the host so lol 67. Do you have a job?- no :( i cant drive 68. Tell us a story about your childhood best friend.- she was an abusive bitch who took out her parents hating her on me the end 69. If you could change one thing about society, what would it be?- i would make discrimination a way more serious crime than it is taken for rn. ppl who discriminate should b put in jail 70. How many all-nighters have you pulled before?- just one when i had to install the sims and it took 6 years 71. Is tumblr your favorite website? If not, then what is your favorite website?- my fave website is youtube 72. What is the craziest thing you would do for a million dollars?- suck a dick, i guess 73. Does money equal happiness?- not all the time but it sure can 74. How many times have you experienced true happiness in your lifetime?- never, i dont think 75. How many times have you experienced true sadness in your lifetime?- too many times 76. What is the funniest joke you have ever been told?- you know that joke abt the blind man at the beginning of Crazy Rap? yeah thats fucking HILARIOUS 77. When was the last time you looked at the news?- this morn :0 78. If you could say one thing to the world, what would you say?- im gay 79. What is your favorite animal?- RACCOONS!!!!!!!!!!!! 80. If you could earn a million dollars by pretending to be dead for 3 years, would you do it?- i mean sure lmao nobody would b upset about it so 81. What is one thing that everyone is bad at?- being a human. 82. What time do you normally sleep? How many hours of sleep do you usually get?- i usually go to bed at 10 and get like 6 or 7 hours 83. Does age necessarily equal maturity?- not at all! 84. What is your favorite clothing store?- hot topic lol 85. In the winter- beanies or gloves?- gloves b 86. Would you rather have wings or a fish tail?- wings?? why would i want a fish tail 87. If you had the power to erase one person from the world so that nobody remembered him or her except you, would you do it?- absofuckinglutely. 88. What do you fear the most?- being like my rapist. thats a little too deep than i like to go but im being honest, thats literally my biggest fear Ever 89. How many digits of pi can you recite?- 3.14 lmfao i hate math 90. If you could travel back to one year and relive it again, which year would it be?- 2004. I would stop it before it happened. :-( 91. Describe yourself in one word.- stupid 92. Describe your last victory.- i woke up today w/o killin meself 93. What is the weirdest thing you have ever seen?- bendytoots cucumberpitch’s face 94. What is something you will never forget?- prom.. something rly nice happened 95. Would you rather forget all of the past or remember everything in vivid detail?- forget everything. please 96. Have you ever broken a bone before?- nope! 97. Is it harder to love or to hate somebody?- probably harder to love them lol 98. Coffee or tea?- coffer 99. What are some little things that you do that have changed your life in a positive way?- I dont overdose on a constant basis in a BPD-fueled rage any more so thats good 100. How many hours have you spend on tumblr today?- probably 1 or 2?

#ask tot ag i guess #i didnt mean to get so negative in this lol im fine i swear #chitters #text heavy//

1 note · View note

illyriantremors · 7 years

Text

Beneath the Stars Chapter 20

Chapter: I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV XV XVI XVII XVIII XIX

AO3 Linkage

Summary: Feyre waits with Rhys and her sisters at the hospital to receive any news from the doctors about her dad. When her mom finally shows up, Feyre is forced to admit some deeply painful realities about her life and decide where things go for her next.

Chapter 20

The four of us sat in the hospital waiting room outside of the ICU while the doctors worked on dad. I had no idea what they were doing. Even as his kids, they wouldn’t tell Nesta and I anything until mom got there.

Rhys rubbed circles into my back, kneading the muscles to rid them of tension. Nesta sat across from us a mask of stone cold indifference. It wasn’t until her head tipped over onto Cassian’s shoulder that I realized just how wrecked she really was.

An hour passed. Every time a nurse or a doctor went past the waiting room doors, my heart lurched in response. But no one came. No one said anything. Until finally…

A faint clacking coming up the linoleum floors, growing louder as it approached, told me she was here. I barreled out of the room before she’d rounded the corner and mom engulfed me in her arms.

“Oh honey,” she said and I cried all over again into her shoulder, shocked by how good it was just to hear her voice. How much I had missed it and never once admitted it, not even to myself.

Elain walked up behind mom and touched my head. We pulled her into the hug and when I looked over mom’s shoulder, Nesta was watching us.

“Nesta,” I croaked. She joined us and you would have thought she and Elain had been the ones who hadn’t seen or spoken to mom in nearly seven months, they clung on so hard.

“Mrs. Archeron?”

A doctor in head to toe scrubs pulled us out of our happy moment and back to the stark reality of the situation. Our teary smiles dissipated.

“I’ll be right back,” mom said. She and the doctor left and we were resigned to wait once more, this time with Elain joining us.

“Oh Feyre, the dress looks lovely on you,” she said with some of Mor’s eternal cheeriness filling her cheeks. “Although, I don’t recall giving Nesta a dress with, uh, are those paint stains?”

I blushed and looked at Rhys before I could think better of it. His lips pursed to one side and I could practically hear his thoughts pounding inside my head.

Cruel, wicked thing.

“I’ve had quite the night,” I said and left it at that. Elain beamed at me.

“I’ll bet. Tell me about it?”

And so Elain’s optimism kept us all distracted while we waited for mom to get back. I told her about Starfall, about how perfect it was. Rhys and Cassian chimed in with additional details where necessary until a good picture of the night had formed, explicit paint sessions excluded.

“He’s in the clear.”

All of us jumped up when mom came back to the room. My chest expanded with glorious, glorious air at the news, but one look at the hard line of mom’s face and I knew there was worse news to come.

“Would you gentlemen mind excusing us?” mom asked, looking to Rhys and Cassian.

“Of course,” Rhys said. Cassian nodded at me with a little salute. I think he winked at Nesta, but Rhys stepped in front of me and wrapped me up in his arms so I couldn’t entirely tell. “All you need to do is call, okay?”

A warmth spread through my chest. Call - and he’d be there.

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Always, darling. Always.”

After a quick kiss, the boys left. Mom didn’t have time to give Nesta and I a wary eye as she sat in one of the chairs. Elain closed the door for added privacy from a watchful nursing staff.

“How’s he doing?” I asked outright. “Tell me everything.”

“He’s not good,” mom admitted. “Alcohol poisoning. He blacked out at some point after he vomited. The doctor said another hour, maybe even a matter of minutes later and he might not have made it.”

A broken gasp pitched out of Elain as she took a trembling hand to cover her mouth.

“But he’s okay?” I pressed ignoring the urger in my foot to rattle against the floor. “The doctor said he’ll be okay now?”

Mom regarded me thoughtfully. I recognized the look. It was the one that said, Feyre, your favorite stuffed animal is still in tact, but Nesta spilled juice on it. It was the one that said, Feyre, you can go to college if you want, but you can’t afford it. It was the one that said, Feyre, your dad’s alive, but he’s still dying.

“He’s going to have to stay in the hospital for a while. They’ve stabilized him for now, but it’s gonna be a while before his body recovers enough to get back up. But even if he pulls out just fine…”

Mom sighed, rubbing between her eyes with her forefinger and thumb.

“Girls, your father isn’t coming home when he gets released from the hospital.”

“What?”

The only one still standing, Nesta growled at my objection. But I didn’t care.

“He has to come home. Where else is he supposed to go? Who is going to take care of him if he doesn’t come home?”

I still didn’t understand. Even as I said the words, I still didn’t get it that I couldn’t take care of him. It broke my heart to confront the reality that I alone was not enough to save my father and never could be.

My mom quickly scooped up my hands in hers and then looked down in horror like she wasn’t sure this was allowed anymore now that the initial high of being reunited was over. But I let her hold me. I would have let her do anything in that moment because I was so tired of trying to figure things out on my own even though I didn’t understand.

“Nesta, Elain,” mom said. “Can you girls step out for a moment? I need to… speak with Feyre.”

“Oh please,” Nesta said. “We should be able to-”

“Nesta, now.”

My sisters left the room and then we were alone. Mom didn’t seem to know where to start. She opened her mouth to speak several times and just kept closing it at the last second until finally I think she gave up and just started saying the first thing that came to her mind.

“Feyre, I know I don’t really have the right to step in right now and rearrange your life again.”

“No, you don’t,” I said, grateful she was admitting that much.

“But regardless of me and you, your father isn’t in a good place and he needs help. I think it’s time we gave that to him. It’s time I gave that to him.”

“Where will he go?”

“The doctor referred me to a few local rehabilitation centers he’s found good success with. Assuming I can get your father on board with it, I’d like to have him admitted for therapy. It’s his choice in the end, but I think after this… I think he’ll be amenable to it. He loves you too much to carry on like this knowing you found him almost… well.”

And there it was. We had finally gotten past the point of no return where dad was too drunk to stay alive and I was too incapable to do it myself. I felt like a failure.

I wondered if maybe mom had stayed if it would have been different, but my heart knew that wasn’t true. We were always going to get to this point sooner or later. I just didn’t like facing the fact that we were, that it was so inevitable and I was powerless to stop it.

But I guess some people have demons too big for others to chase down. Rhys had shown me that much. People can build you up and help you climb the mountain towards recovery, but it’s up to you whether or not you reach the top and go down the other side. Dad hadn’t done that yet.

And in some ways, I still hadn’t either.

“Why did you leave?” I blurted. Mom didn’t immediately answer, though her grip on me stilled entirely. Her skin felt so cold in the chill of the hospital. “Why did you leave? You never called, texted, wrote a letter, emailed. Nothing. Why?”

A tear fell unbidden on my cheek. Mom watched it as it fell.

“You said I made you sick. Is that why? Do Nesta and Elain-”

“No, no, honey.” Mom shook her head very firmly and leaned forward. “No.”

She was still clutching my hands in her lap.

“I was a coward, Feyre,” she said. “I left that night out of blind fury, anything to get away and take back my own life and I forgot you in the process even as I swore to keep you safe from him. I failed you. When I woke up the next morning, I thought you would be there. I had it in my head that since your sisters had followed with me, you would too. When you didn’t, I panicked. I remembered what I had told you in my anger and it terrified me how silent you were. In truth, I didn’t call you because I was too afraid to face the reality of how horribly I had failed as a mother and that you wouldn’t forgive me, and I was right about my assumptions for several months it seems. It is the single worst crime I have ever committed.”

The words cut like a knife buttered to slaughter and my tears were the blood hot and heavy on its blade.

“But I needed you.”

“I know, sweetie,” mom said, pushing my hair out of my face. She was crying now too and it broke her voice into a miserable existence. “And I am so, so sorry.”

But she was here. She was here now. It was something. I had thought about this moment so many times since summer and I thought I would want to kick and scream and fuss at her forever until she suffered, but those three words contained all the pain and misery of a lifetime of suffering she had endured with dad, suffering I probably didn’t even know the half of.

I am sorry.

Maybe there was something to her story that I didn’t know. Maybe she had run away from the things that scared her just as I did. Maybe we were two people in exactly the same position, just traveling in opposite directions.

I grabbed her, throwing myself into her lap and clinging on for dear life.

“Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go - don’t leave again,” I sobbed.

“I’m not going anywhere. You have me,” she said. “Always.”

“What about dad,” I asked, looking up at her while she stroked my hair. “What does that mean for us?”

She looked so grateful that I had said us and not me that she almost smiled.

“I don’t know yet, honey. But we’ll figure it out. Together. I promise and this time, I’m not going to break that promise.”

A feeling of a new beginning washed over me, for her, for dad, our family. He needed this and mom was right. It was time. Everyone deserved a chance to get better. I wanted that chance too.

“Mom?”

“What is it?”

“There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Name it.”

#myfic #beneath the stars #beneath the stars: a feysand fic #bts #feysand #feyre #rhysand #feysand fanfiction #acomaf #acomaf fanfiction

44 notes · View notes