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masterswrd · 3 years

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Hannibal Fashion Meta Pt. 4

Now with sexy annotations.

In this installment we’re back to our favorite party vampire, my sweet Hannibal, who is a whole ass meal and always ready to please a crowd. So we’re going to be talking about his Event Looks.

Ya know, these are becoming less like metas and more like me sitting with you on your couch and pausing and pointing at the screen while I dump all this on you. But what matters most is my own happiness so here we are.

Let’s start in order with one of my favorite episodes, 1x07 Sorbet. Where we see Hannibal is a gorgeous double breasted midnight blue Brunello Cucinelli tux. It’s not bespoke, but honey if this is cashmere than this is probably $9000. If it’s wool than it’s closer to $5000 (which is what I estimate he pays for a lot of his bespoke suits).

Hannibal really isn’t the type of person to wear black, I’m pretty sure we never see him in a solid black suit. Black suits are very very formal and unless you’re at a black tie event or a funeral, a black suit is usually overkill. We know he likes to stand out. Blue is a very socially acceptable way to have some flair at a black tie event. It’s very main character of him. He’s also wearing french square cuffs on the shirt (the reason they look almost tear drop shaped around his wrists) which is why he’s wearing cuff links (you need french cuffs for cufflinks).

Hannibal doesn’t seem to wear cuff links very often. Only with tuxedos. On this evening, he pairs this with a $200 a blue silk Burberry bow tie.

Hugh Dancy used to model for Burberry and I lost an hour of work on this due to that little morsel of information.

The next even we see Hannibal at is his own dinner party later that episode. This shit is lux, baby.

This blazer is a dark dark green velvet Canali dinner jacket that I’m estimating to be around two to three thousand dollars. And hey listen. I tried so hard to edit these pics so you could see the green, but it’s the type of material in color where you’d really only see it in person. Canali is a luxury Italian brand that has a shop in Washington DC,which is probably the one Hannibal would go to in canon. There’s also a shop in Milano, Italy so Hannibal could’ve been a fan of this brand for a long time. Under the jacket we have a $600 Gucci button up. A paisley tie, not surprising with it being a staple to Hannibal’s taste, and a three-peak folded pocket square to finish off the look. King of pocket square folds. I love you.

With only one party happening in season two, Futamono is next. Now, I personally love this look but anytime people step up their formal wear with color, I go nuts.

This is a maroon velvet dinner jacket with silk lining and trim. The make is Etro, a very high end Italian fashion house that specializes in bold prints. It’s a gorgeous $1500 jacket, but I want to talk about the cravat. Cravats felt out of a fashion a long time ago (they were originally a military thing way back before aristocracy got a hold of it) and most people could NOT pull them off today. BUT that is only because people don’t modernize the look. People wear them too high on the neck and makes your whole outfit look outdated. But keeping it low to the open collar or using it to frame an open collar makes it look a million times better. This is just another example of Hannibal being a person who wears what looks good on him and not wearing things that follow certain rules. He can pull anything off it he puts his mind to it. If we wore crocs to the opera, everyone would be trying to do it the next day. He’s a trend setter and an icon.

Jumping to season 3, we have another black tie event. Everyone in the background wearing black and our man comes through with a gorgeous burgundy two-peice tuxedo. This is a unique bespoke peice by toronto based Italian master tailor, Nino Cioppa. Nino is the primary tailor for season 3 and he did a fabulous job, the talent JUMPED out. Molto bello.

The silk on the lapels are patterned and the same fabric is used to do an accent strip on the sides of the legs. Silk lapels are one trusty way you can tell between a suit and a tuxedo. Lovely lovely lovely. Not a plain tie either. It’s maroon silk with an embroidered square pattern. He’s also wearing french cuffs with mother of pearl Burberry cufflinks.

Another amazing suit in Antipasto is this baby, a beautiful chalkstripe emerald green three-piece suit. By FAR, one of my favorite outfits that he wears. Like the tux above, this is another bespoke original from Mr. Nino Cioppa.

The silk blue bowtie brings yet another pop of color. He does color matching and pattern matching very often and does it well. There’s a general rule of two that people follow where they will only wear two patterns at most having one be understated (the chalkstripe and stripes on the shirt in this case) and one being more attention drawing (the bowtie). Hannibal ignores this rule a lot and still looks amazing but this is a good example of the rule in action.

The biggest thing I want people to get out of these is that regular fancy people don’t dress like this. Hannibal Lecter is another plane of fashion. He’s avant-garde and ahead of his time. He is always wearing something fresh and showstopping. This person had to be THE TALK of the baltimore upper class. “What’s Dr. Lecter wearing?” “Who is your tailor?” “Oh my goodness, he’s stunning.” Nobody else is doing it like him and doing it so well. He dresses for the Met Gala everytime he pulls up to ANY function. Why should he be concerned out rules? Why should he be self-conscious or worried what other people think? Take his self confidence and apply it to your style. Wear that peice of clothing you bought but shoved back in your closet because you can’t bring yourself to wear it out. Hannibal will never hold back when he’s serving looks and neither should you.

In conclusion:

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#w.txt #matt writes #hannibal fashion #hannibal #hannibal lecter #my correct hannibal posts #can you tell i drank green juice and not liquor this time around?#this is a reminder that if you ever want a fashion consult on ur fics i will do it!!!

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mypersonmyg · 4 years

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scene stealer | kth

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: fluff

rating: pg15

wc: 937

warnings: just some kissy kissy time

summary: you ask your boyfriend a very important question OR taehyung would really like to finish the show

a/n: ngl, this month seems to be going so slow. is it really only the 11th? what is time really, lets just call it christmas and be done :D

...also, this banner do be kinda sexy if i do say so

prompt 11. K - Kiss. Write a kissing scene of any kind! Get creative.

november drabbles masterlist

main masterlist

“How would you kiss me if we were in a drama?” You express your curiosity as events on screen unfold, the lead lifted from her feet to engage in awe striking passion. Your hold against Taehyung tightens, his attention drawn by a sudden break in peaceful silence and your glance upwards.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if our relationship truly started after a sixteen episode story arc how would you plant one on me? Answer carefully, this is instrumental to the future of our relationship. Taehyung shifts, forcing you to a sitting position, his hands finding the button of pause on the remote. He regards you with a swipe along his bottom lip, tongue wetting the skin.

“I’d kiss you with the same mindset that I kiss you with now.” He shrugs, finger landing on your noses tip in a gentle prod before reaching once more for the discarded clicker. You reach the angle of his wrist before he sticks landing, pulling him back with a click of your tongue, eyes regarding with peaked curiosity.

“You can’t just say something like that and leave it,” You glance the pleasant slumber of Yeontan just beats away, a bundle of fur amidst freshly folded fabric. You take but a moment to ponder the desire to scoop him into your arms before the ever present task resurfaces. You once again meet irises chocolate brown, “What mindset do you have when you kiss me?”

“You tell me.”

“Well-I don’t,” Your words fumble, face heating at a question nudging intimacy. “I suppose I don’t recall.”

“Is that so?” You note the shift closer, a hand falling to your perched thigh. You hum, unable to fight a pull, Taehyung magnetic in even the tamest of interactions. Before logic claims his advance as distraction, noses are grazing and the warmth of connecting lips sets you aflame.

The feel of a hand against your cheek pulls to your own to the base of Taehyung’s neck, the desire to minimize space suddenly an unavoidable sense of urgency. You don’t hesitate to climb upon his waiting lap, Taehyung’s arms falling to secure your waist, still half blanketed from an activity less suggestive than the current.

The mingling of heavy breath and the traverse of your hands from chest to cheek aren’t half as encapsulating as the feel of Taehyung against you, his mouth working wonders to guide your own in glorious tandem. It’s never too much, but the perfect amount of your mutual energy, the burn of a love so strong as to be conveyed in even the simplest of affections.

Your groan follows the pull of too soon, Taehyung drawing back with satisfaction in his exemplary demonstration. You fall back against plush sofa cushions, breath catching and eyes focused on the smooth expanse of the white ceiling.

“You’re mean,” You lightly kick at him with your sock clad feet, his hands easily catching at your bare ankles. He plants a lingering kiss against your calf, smirk only convincing you even more so of your astute observation.

“I was just trying to help you remember, love.” He counters, lowering your limb and taking initiative to bring your earlier thoughts to fruition.

Taehyung leaves you to stew, swooping in on his unsuspecting pup, your playful lover resurfacing, the deeds of just seconds prior holding no lasting impact. You nearly scoff as eyes fall back to the still frozen screen, the feelings still rolling in your abdomen befalling your hand to your lips, slightly swollen from pleasurable suction.

“You kiss me like you’ll never have the chance to do it again,” The words are a mumble, a passing thought more than an exclamation, but Taehyung stops his endeavor, Yeontan all but through anyhow.

“What was that?” He makes his way to where you lay, crouching so his head rests adjacent to your own, eyes like a small child staring back at you, wide and wonder filled.

“It’s slow at first, like you wanna feel everything so you take your time, then you do all of the things you know I enjoy. There’s this hint of need and yearning, like you want as much of me as you can get, as if you’ll run off of time, out of chances.”

Taehyung doesn’t speak, just holding onto your brief monologue, lips twitching at the edges as you continue.

“You kiss me like you want me to feel every emotion that courses through your being and I do, or at least I think I do. You hold me like you’re afraid to let go and your lips tell me that the only place you wanna be is here.”

“Well…” He says after a moment, sure that you’re through with your analysis. “I must be one hell of a kisser then.”

“Shut up!” You slap him with the nearest pillow, stealing his balance as his hands search for purchase against the couches edge.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” He easily disarms you, pillow tossed to the floor. He leans in once more, foreheads pressed together. “I love you, and I don’t need a sixteen episode story arc to prove it.”

“Mmmm, fair enough. It would still be pretty cool though,” You muse through a dreamed sigh. Taehyung draws attention once more with another press of lips, this time focused solely on drawn out deliverance. You giggle when he sets you free, his brow quirking. “If you wanted me to be quiet you could’ve just asked.”

“Can you be quiet so we can finish the show?”

“Good thing you got that kiss in because you aren’t getting anymore from me. Better hope Tannie is feeling generous.”

#bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #bangtanidx #bangtanuniversity #btswriterscollective #taehyung x reader #kth x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung drabble #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts fanfic #bts november drabbles 2020

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damienthepious · 3 years

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tuesday vibes are Cuddle Sleepily

To Be Inside Your Arms

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Lord Arum, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Post-Episode: s02e36-41 Second Citadel - The Battle at World's End, (literally directly post. so like. yeah), Early Relationship, Sleepy Cuddles, Awkwardness, (they're trying), Literal Sleeping Together

Summary: They went somewhere to talk, but that talk is honestly going to have to wait until they aren't so completely drained.

Notes: I've had this idea for a while, to the point where I tried to start it like... five different times. I literally have like Five different half-paragraph openings for this exact pseudo-conversation, and this one FINALLY stuck. They're all... very new at this. Also? Yes, I know we just finished s3 and here I am writing DIRECTLY post s2 content, but consider: I Want To.Title from the song Parallels by Big Thief.

Lord Arum brings them somewhere safe, after their duel, after their song. It is a small structure, nearly impossible to distinguish from the plants surrounding it until Arum points it out, pressing on one particular knot in the wall of thick, woven-together vines and prompting a hidden door to swing open for them and reveal a small, cozy sort of space.

Rilla helps Damien out of his armor after they close the door of the little bark-walled hut behind them, and they clean off the worst of the grime, the tears, the mud, the blood. Rilla sets Damien's arm properly, and the lizard pretends not to keep a concerned eye on them as he starts a fire in the clay hearth, putting water to boil for tea. Rilla splints her poor ankle as well, batting Damien's hands away when he tries to help, and when she finishes she sighs with such weariness that it cuts through to Damien's heart.

Arum frowns, then, watching Rilla's face, the purpling shadows beneath her eyes, the slump of her shoulders, and then the monster extinguishes the fire before the water comes to a proper boil.

There is a pause before Rilla notices, which is even more damning evidence of her exhaustion than anything else.

"What, change your mind?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I did, in fact," Arum rumbles, looking away. "We won't be needing the tea to accompany our conversation. There is no productive conversation to be had while the both of you are in such sorry states."

"S-sorry?" Damien manages, his voice going high, and the monster's frown deepens, the frill at his neck raising just slightly, in anger or whatever else Damien does not know.

"You are both injured, and you are both clearly well past exhausted. I would rather hold a conversation with creatures more lucid than the both of you will currently be."

Damien blinks, entirely uncertain what Arum's sharp, uncomfortable tone and his deeply deliberate avoidance of eye contact indicate, but Rilla folds her arms over her chest with something like a smile ghosting across her lips.

"If that's your way of saying that you're worried about us, that's very sweet of you."

Arum growls, still looking away as he pokes at the hearth to ensure that the logs aren't going to reignite. "Don't be absurd," he says quickly, and something in Damien's chest skips at the transparency of the denial.

"Okay," Rilla says soothingly, smiling a little wider. "Right. Entirely selfish reasons, then."

"Entirely," the monster says, still looking away.

"I imagine that you are rather exhausted yourself, Lord Arum," Damien offers.

"Yes, well," Arum straightens, huffing in a way that reminds Damien of a bird ruffling its feathers. "Any day during which one nearly dies or averts an extinction event is bound to be somewhat draining, and each of us have experienced at least one of those two since the sun rose today."

Rilla snorts a laugh, and then- another expression crosses her face, far more serious.

"Thank you, by the way," she says, and Arum immediately winces. "I don't… I don't know that we would've made it out of there, if you didn't tell me... just, thank you." He turns towards her with a rising snarl, but Rilla's smile is awkward and uncertain, and the sight of it makes the angry rattle in Arum's throat stutter off.

He swallows, and then looks away again, his tail flicking. "Don't... don't thank me for- for giving you a chance to clean up the mess that I made, Amaryllis," he mutters, and then he shakes his head as she opens her mouth to retort. "And this is- precisely what I meant. We can argue over culpability and injury and morality in the morning, if you have not changed your minds by then, takatakataka."

Rilla scowls more deeply as Damien considers Arum's phrasing, noting that the lizard only suggested that they might change their minds. Apparently, Arum does not imagine that his own feelings are in danger of any such shift.

"Fine," Rilla relents, "fine, fine. Okay. Sleep, then. Is there a bedroom tucked in here or are we just gonna pile up on the floor?"

Arum turns with a grumble, presses a hand against a wide leaf that Damien assumed was simply part of the wall, and the flora swings aside, showing another smaller room.

Rilla grabs Damien's uninjured arm as she passes him, pulling them both along together to follow the lizard.

"Okay?" she murmurs, her eyes cautious, and Damien's heart aches again with fondness, with appreciation, and he squeezes her hand in return.

Arum pretends not to hear them, reaching to light a small lantern with a flick of the wrist (Damien is unsure, precisely, if the monster is using some magic, or if he is simply deft with some small tool Damien cannot see) and then turning to frown in the vague direction of their clasped hands.

"I suppose this will have to do, for the moment," he says, and Damien struggles to bury a smile.

The bed is- not exactly a bed. It appears to be as much grown as the rest of the structure, low to the ground, woven from soft living leaves, with a silk sheet puddled unceremoniously across the bottom half. Damien sags at the sight regardless, his body preemptively relieved at the mere idea of rest, and beside him Rilla exhales an entire lungful of exhaustion herself.

Arum's lip twitches, almost a smile, and then he gestures towards the bed. "I suppose I should... leave you to it, then." He pauses, flicks his tongue in the air as two of his hands brush at his cape and the other two fold stiffly behind his back. "Sleep... sleep well."

Damien's heart twists, sinks, and when Arum glances back towards him again he realizes that he must have made some small, unhappy noise. Rilla squeezes his hand again, more gently.

"Unless you would prefer I stay," the monster says quickly, and then he glances away. "This part of the swamp is not particularly dangerous, but of course I would understand if you should require a- a show of good faith, or-"

"I'd just rather have you here," Rilla says, and the monster snaps his mouth shut.

"I... yes," Damien agrees, his voice feeling small. "I know it has been rather too full a day to finish with a... a negotiation of our positions, together, but- but at the very least, I think, we have agreed that we- we would like to try. To try to- to be, together. If it would not trouble you to-"

"I did not wish to press past your own comfort." Arum winces, makes a rumbling noise in his chest with his frill fluttering, and then he takes another step closer. "That's all. If this... if you do not mind my presence-"

"Oh for Saints' sake," Rilla mutters, and then she simply turns and tips herself over like a falling tree, bouncing to land on the bed with a heavy sigh. "C'mon, already," she says, her eyes already closed as she scrabbles with a hand to snatch the sheet and pull it closer. "Whole point is that we're fucking exhausted, and I'm too tired to pretend that I don't want the both of you where I can reach you, even if we haven't put words on it yet."

Damien's heart swells, Rilla's breathy, lazy, slipping-towards-sleep voice so familiar and safe, even in such a strange place. Arum takes another step closer with a small laugh, his frill settling and his own eyes full of something that Damien recognizes after a moment as fondness. Damien bites his lip, as if that will do anything at all to stifle the size of his emotions, and then he reaches a hand out to help Rilla untangle the sheet.

She grabs his wrist and pulls, though, and Damien doesn't have the presence of mind (or the inclination, truly) to resist, and he stumbles sideways to collapse beside Rilla, yelping as he goes. Rilla mutters wordlessly, tugging Damien closer with one hand and pressing her head into his shoulder, and Damien could not suppress his smile for the whole of the world as he curls his arms around her, settling helplessly against the softness of the bed.

He glances up, over Rilla's shoulder, and Arum-

The amount of desire in Arum's vivid, violet eyes knocks the breath from Damien's lungs. He stares down at them, his hands still fisted tight in the fabric of his cape, his frame held so carefully still, and then as Damien catches his gaze he exhales a breath, his tongue flicking in the air.

Rilla makes another grumbling noise, stretching her other arm - the one not clinging to Damien's back - out across the bed, in the vague direction of Lord Arum, though her eyes do not open again. Damien laughs lightly, and then he meets Arum's eyes again.

Arum hesitates, frill fluttering again, but then Rilla makes another, slightly angrier noise, and Damien draws his hands soothingly down her back with another breath of laughter.

"I very much doubt she will let either of us rest, Lord Arum, unless you come join us," he says, keeping his tone teasing and light, and Arum laughs as well.

"She is... rather stubborn," the monster mutters, fond again, and Rilla finally cracks an eye open to glare at him. "Alright," he shakes his head, "alright."

He follows the grasping direction of Rilla's other hand, slipping onto the bed on the side opposite Damien and letting her draw her palm down his bicep, down his forearm before she grips his scaled hand and squeezes with a contented sigh, finally settling against the softness beneath them.

"Better?" Damien murmurs, his lips close beside Rilla's temple, and she sighs again, nodding slightly.

"Stubborn," Arum murmurs again, draping himself out on the bed beside Rilla, but when he leaves a careful degree of space between them, Rilla rolls closer. She presses her cheek against his shoulder, then tugs his hand to settle over her heart with an impatient huff. "Amaryllis-"

"Shush. We're sleeping. Want you closer. Manage feelings in the morning."

Arum glances over her head with a raised eyebrow, and Damien smiles helplessly, and then he- he decides that Rilla is right. He shifts closer as well, folding himself along Rilla's back and wrapping an arm around her so he may do as he wishes, and curl his hand around Rilla and Arum's own, clasped by her collarbone.

Arum exhales, shaky with a hint of a rattle at the back of his throat. "Ridiculous," he mutters unconvincingly, and then with his free hand he reaches and tugs up the sheet, arranging it to rest properly over all three of them before he settles.

It feels... easy, Damien realizes with some surprise. The complication, the tangled web woven between all of them, the friction and lack of understanding and the fear (or worry, at the very least); it will all return with the morning, Damien suspects.

Right now, though. Right now, in this moment, in the haze of exhaustion but with the assurance that they are all three of them together, whole, and safe, finally safe- that they are willing to look each other in the eye and speak their hearts, that they may rest upon each other, may tangle their hands between them-

It feels easy, to brush his thumb across Rilla and Arum's knuckles, twined together. It feels easy to let the weariness carry him deeper, closer to slumber, tucked warm beside his forever-flower and Lord Arum.

With time, Damien thinks, and with patience, perhaps they might make all of the troubles between them feel easy, as well.

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #sir damien #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #i'm [scream] all the time basically #rebageles appreciatem

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lokimostly · 4 years

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Could we have a lil blurb of Jonathan and the nurse! I just love them so much 😭

A/N: I’m gonna assume you mean James! I get their names mixed up all the time smh. Also, this turned into a full fic. Sorry.

As always, my version James Conrad and Nurse!Reader are written with pre-existing context from the Rainy Days series.

Lean On Me

James Conrad x Reader

Word Count: 1,958

Warnings: injury

James’s ears pricked up and he paused. The shirt in his hands remained half-folded as his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. Either his senses were playing tricks on him, or a string of curses had just left your mouth in the direction of the hotel bathroom.

A small crash and another curse. No, he’d definitely heard right.

He sighed, dropping his shirt on the bedspread. It was dark outside the open window. traveling from Paris to Milan, a ten hour trip by train, had thoroughly exhausted you both. The city lights twinkled through the screened glass as he crossed the floor of the suite. He rapped his knuckles against the bathroom door– it was slightly adjacent, but he erred on the side of caution anyway, leaning against the doorframe. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” came your voice, a bit too harshly, from the other side. Conrad’s eyes narrowed and he paused. He knew you well enough by now to understand that you meant the exact opposite of your words. You weren’t fine. Whether or not you would resist help, however… well, he would only know once he pushed open the door.

He turned over his options silently for a moment longer before taking hold of the doorknob and opening it, peering inside the hotel bathroom. You were leaning awkwardly against the wall, your face contorted in poorly-masked pain as you struggled to support your own weight on your one good leg. Your old wound was clearly acting up again.

Conrad was at your side in an instant, lifting you up into his arms like you weighed nothing and holding you firmly against his chest. An audible wince escaped you, but you pushed away from him anyway, making futile attempts to get him to let you down. “I said I’m fine, James–”

“Clearly,” he responded flatly, letting you down on the bed, shoving aside his carry-on bag to make space for you. He eased you down with exceeding carefulness, rising to his feet to retrieve pain medicine from your carry-on.

James felt a pillow hit his back and turned around, raising his eyebrows and drawing his mouth into a thin line of annoyance. “What was that for?”

“I’m not an invalid.”

“I never said you were.”

You scowled back at him, pushing yourself up and off the mattress. “I can get it myself,” you insisted stubbornly. Your injury, however, decided otherwise. As soon as your left foot hit the floor, your leg crumpled beneath your weight. You stumbled forward, hitting Conrad’s chest as he caught you against him, again. Damn the man’s impeccable sense of timing.

Your name left his lips gently, his tone soothing and calm. Conrad waited for the resistance in your arms to release, and you fell limp against him. He set his cheek against your head with a heavy sigh.

“Darling, it’s not your fault,” he murmured, eyebrows creased together. He felt your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt, but you said nothing. Your chest shook with every exhale. The tension still held in the muscles of your arms as you clung to him told him that you were still in a great deal of pain, and it cracked his heart in half.

When you finally spoke, your voice shaky and trembling, his halved heart did nothing short of crumble.

“I just thought I’d be better by now,” you admitted quietly against his shoulder.

Conrad didn’t reply. For a moment you thought he hadn’t heard you at all, until you felt him press a kiss to the side of your head, lifting you up and setting you on the edge of the bed once more. He eased your left leg down as it bent, trying not to wince at your reactionary outcry.

None of the doctors had mentioned the side effects that came after a break like the one you had suffered during the LandSat excursion almost a year ago. The bending fracture in your left femur healed easily enough, but the tissue around it didn’t take as well to such a crippling injury. It had resulted in frequent insomnia, constant ache and – like what you were experiencing right now – bursts of crippling chronic pain.

Conrad was patient in playing your recovery by ear, but you were less inclined to go easy on yourself. It was beyond maddening that you were unable to walk on a whim. Even though your episodes were becoming less frequent, it was still debilitating – and often frustrating to the point of tears.

You waited on the edge of the bed, bunching the fabric of the duvet cover in your hands while he retrieved pain medicine and a glass of water, handing both to you. You downed them silently and let him take the empty cup. James returned a moment later, kneeling in front of you and setting his large hand on your knee.

You relented, giving him a barely-perceptible nod and letting out a long, slow breath. Conrad took it as permission to kneel between your legs and take your left leg up beneath your knee, running through the motions of extending it and forcing the muscles to unbind. He moved his hands slowly, with practiced care, murmuring words of comfort when your muscles contracted in pain. You held onto his shoulder, gripping tightly and gritting your teeth when a wave of pain would travel up your spine. This was something the two of you had done many times before, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Uncounted minutes passed before the pain subsided. Some combination of the medicine and the patient work of his hands finally unbound the scarred tissue around your upper thigh, and you relaxed, slumping against him.

“I can’t imagine why you put up with this,” you confessed, with lingering frustration in your voice – which was somewhat muffled, given that you were talking against his shoulder.

Still, Conrad heard you, and pressed a kiss to the side of your temple. “I love you,” he replied, pulling away to look at your face. “Is that not reason enough?”

You gave him a petulant pout and dropped your eyes, playing with the v-cut neckline that revealed just enough of his muscular chest. “I guess,” you relented with childlike stubbornness. You traced your finger over his skin, running your nail lightly down the center of his chest. “I love you too.”

Conrad smiled and exhaled softly. “Really?”

You scoffed and laughed, leaning forward to kiss him, but it was woefully short, and he pulled you back for another. “You know that,” you reminded him when he finally pulled away, leaving behind the lingering scent of vanilla and sandalwood. It was a familiar, comforting smell, though admittedly cleaner than when you first met him: back then, he always smelled of firewood, too.

“You chucked a pillow at me. I wasn’t so sure anymore,” James replied, with a look of mock innocence that was almost convincing, if not for the devilish twinkle in his blue-green eyes. He ducked his head down for another kiss and you laughed, pushing against his chest, but nowhere near hard enough to dissuade him from landing one right on your cheek. You rolled your eyes. “You’re a tease.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he countered darkly, planting a kiss in the crook of your neck, with the audacity to graze his teeth on your skin in the way he knew would make you shiver. You gasped and laughed, covering his hand with your mouth to prevent him from doing anything further.

He made a muffled sound and peeled your hand away, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist before letting go. His eyes met yours and his expression sobered. “How does it feel?”

You sighed, pressing your lips together and swallowing your pride. You lifted your leg cautiously off of the bedspread, waiting for a contraction of pain with bated breath.

Nothing came.

You allowed yourself to exhale and nodded. “I think I could stand,” you venture cautiously.

“Are you sure?” He asked, taking your hands. “We don’t have to rush.”

You shook your head, setting your feet on the floor. “No, I’m sure.” That wasn’t really the truth; you had little confidence in your own abilities. You did, however, have complete trust in the fact that Conrad would be there to catch you if you fell.

Conrad stood to his feet and held your hands expectantly. You took one more breath and put weight on your feet at the same time as he pulled you up with your hands, bringing you to stand in one smooth motion.

Your leg wobbled and you tightened your grip on his hands, your eyes fixed to the floor. He moved slightly, and you panicked, digging your nails into his skin for fear of falling. “Don’t –”

“I’m not,” he reassured you, adjusting his grip and sliding his hand up one of your arms, wrapping his other snugly around your waist. He held you against the wall of his chest, letting you reach up with your free hand and wrap it over his shoulder. You laughed suddenly when you realized the position you were in was typical of a slow dance, except that you were standing mostly-immobilized in the middle of a quiet hotel suite, and he was acting only as an incredibly handsome crutch.

Conrad hummed in his chest, reverberating against your ear. “What?”

You shook your head, smirking. It seemed silly. “We’re dancing,” you explained, and laughed again through your nose. “You know– without going out for drinks, the music, or actually seeing Italy.”

Conrad chuckled, stepping away from the bed with you held securely in his arms. “This is good enough for me,” he reassured you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and beginning to sway, holding you firmly in his muscular arms.

You clung to his shoulder, your fingers gripping so tight that your knuckles paled. You swallowed a rise in your pride and exhaled sharply, confessing your weakness. “I can’t be much of a dance partner, though. Just rocking back and forth.”

Conrad’s grip around your waist tightened and he dipped his head down, setting it against yours. “Lean on me,” he suggested lowly, his mouth hovering over your ear.

You nodded. You released any remaining tension or inhibition, allowing him fully to support you. The two of you began to sway in silence- Conrad would take a step forward and you would follow his lead, trusting his feet instead of your own. Soon you were circling in a gentle waltz, swaying to the sounds of the city outside instead of a vinyl record. His arm caught your weight whenever your leg shook with uncertainty: only once did it actually buckle, and he caught you without pause, continuing to glide across the floor.

He lifted you up and you gasped a laugh, holding onto both his shoulders before he set you down just as fluidly and continued on.

“I didn’t know you were so good at this,” you admitted coyly, inhaling quickly when he spun you and pulled you against him with your back to his chest.

You could hear his smile in his words. “I’m a man of many talents,” he admonished, trying to sound humble. It made you smirk, and when he pulled you back to face him again you reached up to plant a kiss on his lips. Your dancing slowed to a sway as his attention turned more to your lips, moving against them without hurry, tasting sweet with every repeated kiss.

You caught his lower lip gently between your teeth, and he chuckled. His breath fanned pleasantly against your skin, raising goosebumps. “I think our first night in Italy is going to be a memorable one.”

You nodded, reaching up and linking your arms lazily behind his neck, deliberately toying with the hem of his shirt. Just because you weren’t going out tonight didn’t mean you would be denied your fair share of fun. “Yeah… I think so, too.”

~ ~ ~

A/N: Thanks for reading!

#james conrad x reader #james conrad #kong: skull island #i'd die for these two #i tried to make it angsty but it turned to fluff again I CANT HELP IT I JUST WANT THEM TO BE HAPPY #un-consider-it

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geordiesaffer-blog · 4 years

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How is everyone doing? Still hanging in there? I sure hope so... I've been keeping busy with my stitching, reading, beginning a new (non-cross stitch) project (which I'll let you in on some day soon!), trying to limit my news intake, and connecting with family members via Zoom and Board Game Arena . Since this whole strange Covid-19 saga began for us in mid-March, the only person I've talked to face to face is my husband! Such a strange feeling... My family met up for a virtual game night on Easter Sunday (on Board Game Arena) and it was wonderful to see everyone's smiling faces. My oldest son and daughter-in-law in California, middle son and girlfriend who live 30 minutes away, and my youngest son in the Washington, DC area all connected online for games of Yahtzee and Sushi Go. I basically just watched and coached my husband a bit in Yahtzee as only five players could play at a time.My stitching has been hit and miss--still having trouble settling, but I do try to sit down each day for a couple hours in the evening. I know you've seen these designs stitched up many times, but I hope you don't mind seeing my versions... First, is the Easter Holiday Hoopla design by With Thy Needle and Thread. I fell in love with this cute bunny the first time I saw him and am so pleased with how he turned out. I loved the colors on the chart and chose some similar overdyed threads from my stash to stitch him. He is stitched "over one" on 28 ct. ice blue Jobelan so the stitched area is a mere 2" X 2". I finished him into a circle (just traced a drinking glass to get the shape on the mounting board), padded the board with batting, and added a silk handmade cording trim. A mini-pompom gave his tail a nice fluffy look. Easter Holiday Hoopla finishThe round piece is simply glued onto a fabric-covered piece of sticky board and placed in a rustic looking 3.5 inch square brown frame. I purchased a bunch of these frames from an eBay seller, years ago, who had used them to display his butterfly collection (no, the butterflies were not included--thank goodness!). They sure have come in handy over the years and can easily be painted. Here is another of the frames that I painted and distressed last year for a different Easter finish that resides with my oldest son and daughter-in-law in California.An Easter finish from 2019--such a cute bunny!My second finish is so bright and cheery! It is called "Easter Wreath" and is a design from Tiny Modernist. The bunnies also have white mini-pompom tails like I used in the Holiday Hoopla finish above. They, too, are stitched "over one" on 28 ct. white lugana. I used the suggested DMC colors for everything except the carrots. I wanted a darker looking carrot so I used DMC 976. And, because of a slight counting error--my carrots are just a bit longer than those charted. Oops! It doesn't affect the overall look so I just left them larger. Ripping out "over one" stitching is the worst, so I avoid it whenever possible! I kept the finish very simple as the design itself is very "busy." Just a handmade cording in that pretty shade of blue that I love so much!"Easter Wreath" finishHere are both of my new Easter finishes together--looks like we had a big party going on on Easter Sunday, doesn't it? Nope--just me and my husband. It was a quiet day, but certainly one we'll always remember due to the circumstances. I didn't even get most of my Easter decorations out this year--it felt like too much of a chore for some reason. I've been gradually learning that now is the time to cut yourself some slack--be kind to others, but also to yourself. These are unnavigated waters and no one really knows what the next day will bring...I absolutely love the pretty teal blues in these two finishes!I also got a very sweet Easter card from my friend, Gabi, in Germany. She knows how much I love stitched bunnies (or any bunny, really!) so she made me this lovely card. Thank you so much, Gabi--I always love hearing from you and being the recipient of your pretty stitching!Easter card stitched by my friend, Gabi, in Germany!Much of my Easter seemed to be spent on the phone reminiscing with my mom, exchanging old photos via text with my siblings, and looking through old photos. The photos below brought back such wonderful memories of times with my three boys--dyeing eggs, hunting for baskets, and making a bunny cake each year. Oh, I miss those days so much. These were all taken in the late 80s / early 90s as you can probably tell by all the red and blue. I think, back then, clothing designers only made boys' clothes in combinations of red and blue! It's so nice how things have evolved. And yes--they all have the same haircuts--courtesy of my husband. He sure saved us a ton of money through the years by cutting the boys' hair until they became teens. He even cut my hair when it was longer--not sure if I trust him to cut it at this shorter length, though! What are you doing about your hair? Trying to cut it yourself, getting a loved one to cut it, or just letting it grow? And we won't even talk about the hair coloring issue--yikes! By the time this is over, I'm going to have a very wide "skunk" stripe where my hair is parted, that's for sure! Time to let it go gray? I also made a couple of masks for myself and my husband. Oh, dear! I am really not good with a sewing machine... The first one took me two hours to create, and, although the second one was easier--I do struggle! I used one of my husband's old shirts for the green checked one (mine) and a piece of quilting cotton for my husband's. They are "okay"--mine is a bit too loose around the sides. I found another tutorial that might work better for small heads on YouTube so I might give that one a try this weekend. Wish me luck!My two masks--pretty good, but I need more practice!Comfort foods still seem to be appearing on the menu at my house and I found this delicious recipe for apple crisp right here. When I make it again, I'm going to try about 3/4 as much sugar and maybe even take it down to half as much. It was plenty sweet! We enjoyed this as our Easter dessert (and for the next two nights, too!). Have you been whipping up any tasty comfort foods during this lockdown period?Do the apples make this a health food--ha ha!! Watching old television shows seems to be comforting to me right now, too. My husband and I have started watching an episode of Cheers (on Netflix) each night before we go to bed--a light, fun show that doesn't upset us or keep us awake. Honestly, I think we've both been sleeping better lately... And I've begun watching Downton Abbey again from the very beginning. You see, I never watched the final season, so I decided to begin all over again. I absolutely love it-- and I really think I'm picking up on so much more of the dialogue than I did before. The Dowager Countess's (Maggie Smith's) lines are just so delightful, aren't they? "Edith, you are a Lady, not Toad of Toad Hall!" ~ "What is a weekend?" ~ "Every woman goes down the aisle with half the story hidden." I could go on an on! And the scenery, the dresses, the jewels--sigh... All so well done. I still haven't seen the movie, but plan on watching it after I finish the series. Anyone else have any comfort watching television shows to recommend? So, how many of you have talked to friends or family using Zoom? I had a Zoom get-together with my three sisters-in-law (on my husband's side) on Tuesday and, after some initial difficulties connecting on my end, I thoroughly enjoyed seeing their faces and catching up with them. They live in Indiana, Ohio, and Connecticut so we rarely see each other anyway. We already have plans to meet this way every other week. At the end of our session, the following question was posed to us so I've decided to use that as my "Getting To Know You" inquiry this week: "Have you found a "silver lining" in this period of being confined to your home?" In other words, few love being stuck at home, but is there something nice in it that you've discovered? For me, that answer is easy! Yes! I've discovered that my husband and I can live together happily and quite easily (other than the occasional disagreement) after he retires. I was truly worried about that, as I was so used to being home alone, but--so far, so good! How about you?Giveaway Time... I haven't had a giveaway in a while... so how about the chart for this lovely red house sampler? It is simply two pages removed from a magazine (sorry, I don't know which one) and if more than one person wants it, I will draw a name. All you have to do is: 1) mention in your comment that you specifically want to be entered in the giveaway, 2) answer the "Getting To Know You" question above, and 3) include your email address if I don't already have it. You may enter until April 29th, 2020 and then I'll pick a winner and announce it on my next post. The chart will be folded and mailed in a legal sized envelope to save money on postage. Good luck to all! If you are interested in winning this pretty red house sampler chart, see above!I'll leave you with what, to me, has always been a sign of hope and comfort each time it blooms. This orchid was given to me when my father died on October 31, 2014 and it still blooms almost yearly. Each time it blesses me with these beautiful white and fuchsia blossoms, I think of him and feel like he's visiting me. And this year, that feeling is especially needed and meaningful. It's an absolute perfect time for it to be blooming with all the worries and unrest swirling around us these days, isn't it?This special orchid always brings me comfort...So, more of the same for a while--at least here in Pennsylvania. We are shut down until at least April 30, probably longer. The hardest part for me in this whole thing is being unable to visit my mom--I miss her so much. It is extremely lonely for her having no family https://www.patternspatch.com/1/bunny-stitching-as-the-days-slowly-pass/ https://stitchingdream.blogspot.com/2020/04/bunny-stitching-as-days-slowly-pass.html

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5hfanfiction · 7 years

Text

Parting Shot Episode 4: Shoulder to Shoulder

Camila

The moment our english class came to a boring conclusion, I left. I didn’t wait for Normani or Lauren to file out behind me, and barely caught the back end of the homework assignment before I was out the door and down the hall. Students gradually started to filter out of each side of the flanking doorways, flooding into whatever given airspace the school had to offer with a chorus of avid chatter.

“Camila!” Normani’s voice pierced the growing chaos. “Mila, what’s the rush?! Wait up!”

Ignoring her, I dipped around a broad shouldered athlete bearing a letter jacket and continued through the crowd. The exit into the back yard came into view, sunlight suddenly playing the role of air and calling me out of necessity. A quick glance over my shoulder told me that both Normani and Lauren had either lost track of me or given up, both of which accomplished what I set out to. Pushing through the doors, a rush of cool fall air picked up on the breeze, bringing with it a wave of relief.

On the first day, every student was busy with their own thing. Being a senior in a small high school nestled in the heart of a conservative town meant everyone had their thing whether it was a plausible reason to complain or simply an excuse for attention. I looked around, suddenly lonely and very much regretting giving Lauren the four-line prompt. Metathesiophobia was the fear of change, which in humans, was nothing but evolutionary. I knew that over time, man had become comfortable in concept of routine, yet it never held true for them as it did for me.

There were five cigarettes left in the pack I kept tucked away in the side pocket of my bag. I hadn’t visited the local variety store for months, hadn’t flirted with the middle aged Pakistani immigrant behind the counter for a box of the nicotine wonders ever since Lauren had insisted I stop. A part of me did it for the euphoria, another did it so one day my voice could be as enticing as hers. It never seemed to match the level of allure that she managed to accomplish though; everything I did, I did because of her.

Drawing my red-rimmed lighter to the end of the stick, I watched the fresh line of smoke waft up and carry away with the breeze. My first puff was accompanied with the signature dizzying sensation followed by the uncomfortable locking up of my lower jaw. Exhaling, the cloud of second hand that drifted into the air made me feel no less than a dragon, the stress from whatever I had been worrying about now washed away by the idea that I was the be-all end-all of mythical beasts.

The sensation was whisked away when the doors slammed open, and underneath the frame stood Lauren in all her glory. Eyes flashing, feet shoulder-width apart and chest heaving with concern, she found me leaning against the outer brick wall and exhaled audibly. “Camz, what the fuck?”

“Sorry.” I shrugged, sliding down so I was kneeling awkwardly against the wall. “I guess it’s just stress. The first day of school is always filled with unadulterated anxiety, isn’t it?”

Migrating to my side, Lauren pressed one knee to the concrete and placed her hand lightly on my shoulder. “Stop with that.” She commanded, her other hand reaching out and taking my active wrist. “You’ve quit Camz, keep it that way. You’ve also got class to go to, with me.”

“I’ll go tomorrow.” I muttered, pulling my hand away. Before I got the chance to walk away, Lauren had me in her grasp again, this time one hand had landed on the back strap of my bag, the other on my waist. They both yanked backwards, and I felt myself half stumble, half fall against her. Coughing smoke into her face, I made a sincere, yet not at all physically demanding attempt to pull away.

“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong.” Lauren reached into the back draped against her side and pulled out the sheet of notebook paper I had left on her desk before my abrupt exit. “What’s the deal with this? Are you afraid of change? What do you think is going on here, that things are ever going to be different between us?”

“That’s just writing.” I mumbled, taking another drag of the cigarette and blowing the residual smoke straight from my lungs into her face. “It means nothing.”

“Stop.” Lauren grabbed the butt and hurled it to the ground, crushing whatever was left with the heel of her black converse. I frowned, thankful that most of the good stuff had been smoked before she got her hands on it. “Writing rarely means nothing, you know that. Anything coming from you in particular is bound to mean something, something deep. Now quit acting like one of the lost boys and tell me what’s going on.”

“Who’s Lucy?”

Lauren frowned, tightening her grip on my waist. “A girl.” She answered softly, turning me around and stepping closer. “Who right now, is nothing but a concept to me. You Camz, are so much more than that. More than just a concept.” Her lips grew near, the hand on my waist remaining there, the other hand trailing up to rest against my cheek. “You’re always going to be more than that, and whoever I end up with, whatever girl or guy I find in the end is going to accept you as so much more than a concept.”

Her words were beautiful, but when brought to life meant very little. There was no reality either of us could write, no prompt we could conjure up that would make her ideals true. “I’m know that one day, I’m going to lose you to someone.” I told her, lowering my voice and clearing my lungs. “But I can’t let that day be today… or tomorrow. I can’t Lauren, I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Lauren’s arms wound around me, our bodies pressing tight together and her embrace emanating a familiar warmth. I closed my eyes, balling my fists into the fabric of her leather jacket and holding myself still. “There’s a world of rain and bruises that you’ve turned your back on, and one you can’t bear to look forward to for fear of it catching up to you.” She created a touch of space between us, just enough to reach up and cup my face in her hands. “I know that I’m an escape from those memories, so you’re not going to lose me. Not now, not ever.”

Covering her hands in my own, I drew blood on my lower lip with an aggressive bite. “I know I can’t ask you to be that for me Lauren.”

“Then don’t ask.” The sunlight streamed through the parting clouds, lighting the green in her eyes to the point where it was almost alien. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against my cheek, lingering for few seconds before crumpling what was left of the notebook page in her hand and stuffing it into her back pocket. There was something stiff about her movement, and the moment I looked up she had lifted her hand and brushed her fingers against the small wound on my mouth to soothe the pain. “Let’s go back inside and finish this day. I don’t know about you, but all I want to do is for the sun to set so we can go home, watch TV and snuggle.”

I shivered at the heart-warming thought, granting her a feeble nod and letting her take my hand. “Thank you.” I mumbled, retuning to the door and crushing what was left of the cigarette with the ball of my foot.

“I need you too Camz.” Lauren told me moments before taking the handle to the double doors. “My mystery, my thriller novel… No soul on earth could be that for me the way you can.”

***

I laid eyes on Lucy in the cafeteria during lunch. She was visibly shy, her shoulders somewhat hunched forward and eyes constantly on the ground. As someone with the body of a thirteen year old boy with an overdeveloped ass, the role of high school wallflower was anything but unfamiliar to me. Bagging a small sandwich and a modest apple, I headed to our small circle of friends, seating myself between Lauren and Dinah.

“So we’ve decided to use one large photo on the front cover of every issue for this month, hopefully that helps to bring in more viewers. Grab their attention right from the get-go, you know?” Ally Brooke was half leaned over the lunch table, eyes sparkling as she described the most eventful morning of us all. “Camila’s done the most incredible inaugural article, and it can only go up from there. Isn’t this exciting?”

“Not as exciting as Penelope Steiner swallowing one of the elastics in her teeth and having to take a rush trip to the dentist.” Dinah snorted, taking a comical bite of her chicken taquito. “Talk about your eventful first day of sophomore year huh?”

“What were you doing poking around the business of a back-brace wearing sophomore with the world’s most Jewish last name?” Lauren questioned, folding one leg up on the bench and leaning against my shoulder with a lazy smile. Down on the table she had blown through her own ham sandwich, and was now fiddling with a unopened package of mint gum.

“You turn a corner onto the fourth floor and it’s a whole new world of entertainment.” Dinah sighed, tilting her head back dramatically. “I made a wrong turn trying to get to the new library they put in this summer— speaking of which, have you two bookworms found your way there yet?”

“Yeah, I was just about to ask that as well.” Normani broke mid-sip from a tall water bottle and looked to us both. “They’ve got a whole whack of new books, and a bestselling authors night where they’re actually having someone who was successful in the industry come in and talk to students. It’s a big deal.” She winked at me. “At least a big deal for the freshly inaugurated preteens who build their dreams off of the success of others. You and Lauren are more angsty, lone wolf types.”

“Angsty lone wolves.” Ally nodded, humming in thoughtful content. “Now that’s a title that suits the two of you.”

I glanced down at Lauren, who was far too invested in playing with the foil on her gum wrapper than acknowledging the conversation. “We’re not that angsty.” I argued, my tone of voice trying hard to make it seem like I somewhat believed in my claim. I didn’t.

“You’re the two love children of Holden Caufield and Avril Lavigne.” Dinah’s hand landed hard on my shoulder, the girl using me as leverage to stand and gather her garbage. “Peace out ladies, I’m off to flirt with the captain of the girl’s volleyball team and weasel my way into a tryout. Duty calls.”

“Duty is right.” Lauren echoed quietly, her voice only reaching me. Sitting up straight again, she swiped a fry away from Normani and chewed with a subtle smirk. Only a matter of seconds passed before Dinah made a swift u-turn and let one of her softcover notebooks collide with the back of Lauren’s head. "Ow.” She muttered, rubbing the sore spot.

“Don’t talk back to me Lauren Michelle.” Dinah snapped, her voice layered with childish sass. “You just spent an entire first period flirting your way into the new girl'a pants and outing yourself to the entire school. You’ve got no right to start talking to me about duty.”

Across the table, Ally audibly spat out a modest mouthful of cheese tortellini and started to hack violently, grabbing her bottle of water. "I’m sorry, Lauren you did what now?”

“I’ve been pretty bad.” Lauren’s elbows pressed down into the edge of the table as Dinah stalked away. Her upper arm brushed mine, a minute portion of the girls weight feeding into me again. “Not an apology by the way, just an acknowledgement.”

“So who was this girl?” Ally sounded as intrigued as Normani had during class.

“I’ll tell you during Biology.” Lauren squeezed my arm gently, rising from the bench. “Ally, you and I have got to get to the labs before all the good frogs are gone.” I watched her leave, tossing out the empty wrappers from her lunch and throwing me a kind smile over her shoulder. There was something eclectic about the cool, all-calm demeanour Lauren strutted the halls with, her confidence superseding my own by a long shot.

"Hey, are you okay?” Normani was the only remaining member of our table, her hand landing gently on my wrist.

“Yeah.” I nodded to her. “Why?”

“You’ve been sitting there for the last fifteen minutes and have said less than ten words.” Normani shuffled closer, her dark hair sleek and washed with pristine care. “Also you ran out of English this morning like your pants were on fire and beyond the double doors was an ice cold lake. What’s going on?”

“I’m okay Mani… really.” I smiled to my friend. “I should get going though… calculus calls.”

“Can I walk you there?” Normani got up with me, hurling a balled up wrapper from a sandwich halfway across the room and letting it land neatly in the trashcan. “I’ve got free period and no homework to procrastinate with yet so I’m pretty much all yours.”

I nodded, walking shoulder to shoulder with her through the hallways. “Thanks Mani.” I kept my eyes down. “I love company.”

“I’m familiar with you.” The girl thread her fingers through her hair, fluffing it up and somehow making the salon quality job she did look even more perfect. “So what’s the 411 on Mr. Hunky Mendes? You thinking he’s finally going to make the move this year?”

“What?” I looked over at her, playing idly with the strap of my bag that was pressed diagonally across my chest. “No, what? I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

Normani tossed her head back with a laugh. “If you joined The Monarchs this year and made it to the top of the pyramid you’d be a shoe-in for the position of Canadian quarterback’s arm candy.” She continued. “Monarch butterfly Cabello and Wolf Pack Mendes. That would be one for the yearbook.”

“I don’t see that happening.” I muttered, dodging the forceful swinging open of a classroom door with a swift side-step. “Not unlike most other seniors at this school, I’d like to get through the year with my sanity still intact.”

***

The following two periods of the day passed in a dull grey manner. At the ring of the final bell, I followed the awkward flood of students out through the halls and to my pitifully empty locker, setting a few books onto the top shelf before slamming it closed and clicking the lock in place. A voice behind me made my entire body jump, high and far too perky for my current mood.

“Camila!” A girl with curly blonde hair was cradling a inch or two thick stack of papers in her arms. She wore a dark red -white cheerleading outfit, the word “monarchs” embroidered directly across the chest. I fought the urge to let my eyes roll to the back of my head and patted my back pocket to ensure there was at least one cigarette at the ready.

“Hi.” I put on a fake smile. “What’s up Courtney?”

“Cheerleading tryouts!” She squeaked, the sound unpleasant at best. “In the gym, tomorrow after school, 4pm to 5:30. Normani Kordei mentioned that you wanted to give it a shot for your senior year, and I know we’d love to have you.” The girl held out one of the sheets of paper to me, the front covered in cheesy clipart and neon colours, bordered in a series of black butterflies.

Taking the page, I made a mental note to scold Normani to my wit’s end before giving the preppy cheerleader a kind smile and watching her bounce away to the next slender female victim a few lockers down. The sheet of paper was quickly crushed in my hand before I re-opened my locker and tossed it to the corner to let it die.

“So who’s my blonde competition?”

I turned around, a small grin on my face at the sight of an end-of-the-day Lauren, tired and clearly ready to return home. “Tryouts for the Monarchs start tomorrow.” I replied, turning back to my locker and fiddling with the lock. “I’m not going to do it.”

“Why not?” The girl leaned casually against the adjacent lockers, one hand wrapped around the strap of her back, the other in her jean pocket. “You’ve got the body of a cheerleader, no doubt about that.”

“And you’ve got the body of a pop-star, but I don’t see you moving out to LA to audition for the X-Factor.”

“Hey, you know I don’t believe in singing competitions.” Lauren’s shoulder blades touched the lockers, her body angling out towards the flow of traffic that was clogging the hallways. “What right does a middle aged British asshole have to tell you whether or not you can follow your dreams? If you and I want to be stars, then we’ll be stars.”

“You love Gordon Ramsey though.” I glanced at her. “Isn’t he just as British and just as big of an asshole?”

“There’s a right way to cook Camz.” She smiled. “There’s no right way to sing. Have you heard yourself in the shower recently?”

I shook my head lightly, closing my locker for the second time and pulling out my phone. “So do you want to head home? Where are the other girls?”

“Dinah and Ally are hanging around the quad, being reckless. Normani had a dance class across town.” Lauren fell in step we me as we headed through the hallways. “I need to work tonight for a few hours, Mat is still away with his pregnant wife and we’ve got a whole stack of paperwork to sort and distribute. You should head home though, but if you order dinner save me some this time.”

“You don’t usually work after school so soon in the year.” I commented, eyes trained on the floor. “I don’t even start until next week.”

“I know Camz, I’m sorry.” Her arm looped around my shoulders, hand resting light against my chest.

“But we might as well get a head start on the bills for this winter.”

She wasn’t wrong, Lauren’s sense of responsibility was always going to precede my own. I walked through the idea of me retuning to a cold empty house and spending the evening alone, and shuddered. “I’ll just wait for you. I want a chance to check out the new library anyways, I can hang out there for a few hours.”

“Are you sure?” Lauren turned a corner to one of the school’s abundant management offices and pulled a thick cluster of keys from the front pocket of her bag. “The first day is always tiring, you may feel better if you head home and nap or something.”

“What, do you not want me around?” I teased looking to the side of her head and catching a glimpse of that decadent profile.

“Stop, I always want you around.” Lauren tucked her arms around me in a loose hug before putting pressure on my ribs and eliciting a ticklish squeak. I wriggled away from her, a child-like pout on my face as she approached a confidential locked room and inserted a silver key into the old fashioned lock. “I’ll text you when I’m finished.” She nodded. “Stay nearby, and if you leave make sure you tell me. I don’t want to be here a six pm tonight searching the campus for you only to discover you’re at home asleep.”

“It happened once, let it go.” I rolled my eyes, turning to continue down the hall. Lauren’s gaze was on me as I left, and I turned over my shoulder a few paces later to see she was only just dipping behind the closed door.

***

The school library had until the present fall, been equally as drab as the rest of the school. I discovered on the walk over that new space had been stolen from the teacher’s lounge, the lounge moved to the old workout space and all sweaty weight lifting now done at Foxcastle’s only resident gym. Inside it was virtually empty, brand new bookshelves lined the walls, and clustered between them were a series of wood finished study spaces and oversized armchairs. Setting my bag down in one, I embraced the lack of other bodies in the room and made myself at home.

Ernest Hemingway had always been a favourite for me. His style often grabbed hold of my interest, and for a reason I had no intention of exploring further than I already had. The device in my back pocket vibrated against me, and on the screen flashed Lauren’s name followed by a smug message.

Lauren: Check the front pocket of your bag. Left a gift xo

In the designated pocket was a slip 11of paper, narrow ruled with light blue lines and a red margin. Unfolding it, I found that scrawled on the page was a small paragraph written in Lauren’s signature mature penmanship and personal favourite green ink.

A story about family ties and sibling rivalry. Two young men in a bustling metropolis, one a sloppy philanthropist, the other an imposter, battle the complications associated with being an identical twin. The role of technological evolution in the modern world allows them to learn about independence and the importance of being totally honest.

Despite the fatigue from an emotional rollercoaster of a day, I smiled. Setting the brief writing prompt down on the arm of my chair I set off once more to seek out The Old Man and the Sea , tucked away against the back end of the seventh shelf. It was a pleasantly new copy, the spine cracking as I opened it. Returning to the soft armchair, I pulled out my yellow legal pad and arranged a pen, the book and my paper on my lap in the most space conscious way possible.

Eric and Michael Hamilton are a set of red haired, green-eyed twins raised in the heart of New York City by an ailing single mother. I began, taking a stray pencil from the bottom of my bag and scribbling away. A successful software mogul, Eric uses his finances to adopt the persona of a self-appointed yet sloppy philanthropist, while Michael feeds off the fortune from his good looks and impressive confidence.

“Ernest Hemingway.” A weathered voice just over my shoulder scared me silly. Looking back I came face to face with my second period english teacher, a set of small frames perched on her nose and dark eyes focused down on the book in my lap. “The Old Man and the Sea, a tale of great psychological depth and an author nearing the end of his career. Hemingway liked to get to the point. He always had a thing for the facets of universal life.”

“I like to think he understood human suffering.” I shifted, suddenly feeling awkward at the prospect of having such a casual conversation with a teacher after hours. “I’ve always been soft spot for people like that.”

“The Old Man and the Sea, For Whom the Bell Tolls, The Iceberg Method… Hemingway spent a lot of his career fighting to earn back the respect of his audience. He was a journalist to begin with you know, not unlike yourself.“ Her voice was full of sincerity, aged and with a stronger Jamaican accent than when she spoke in class. I shifted my body to get a better look at the woman, suddenly far more intrigued than before. "His writing began to stray further and further away from journalism however, and with good result. I like to believe that it loosened the old fashioned taboo on the subject, but that’s just me.“

”I’m not a journalist.” I said back, cringing at the thought that the school paper was the badge of honour the school had bore on me. I loved Ally Brooke to death, but had never managed to match the enthusiasm she bestowed upon her sophomore volunteers. She had elected me, the quiet senior cloaked in cigarette smoke and bad decisions to write and edit a majority of the more pressing articles. Naturally I did it in complete silence, acting more as Ally’s personal ghostwriter than a voice of my own.

“You work for the paper do you not?” She sounded amused. “Camila Cabello, I’ve read many of your articles from last year. You’ve been quite the literary saviour this school has needed, I recall being impressed.“

I could tell from the tone and quality of this woman’s vocal dictionary that she had years of unrivalled experience. When she laid eyes on the writing I had crafted based on Lauren’s gift, I became confident that said experience was now going to be aimed at my own work. I decided for the first time in my life I’d embrace the pair of eyes that weren’t Lauren’s. “Maybe you could take a look at what I’ve written.” I suggested, lifting my messy sheet of paper and holding it out. “My best friend, she and I like to exchange writing prompts like this to get away from the real world and stimulate creativity. We’ve been doing it for a while now, it’s one of our favourite pastimes.”

The woman took hold of the page and began to scan, taking no more than a few mere seconds to look back at me with a set of withered, impressed eyes. “You’re very talented Ms. Cabello, and for this spark of creativity your friend is as well. What is her name again?”

“Lauren Jauregui.” I told the teacher carefully. “She’s in your second period English class. We both are.”

“Cabello, Jauregui.” Wilcox handed the sheet of paper back to me. “Two names of a unique descent we don’t often see around these parts. “How do you think Eric and Michael’s story will end?”

Tapping the end of the pencil in my hand against my bottom lip, I studied the messy lettering. Writing under pressure had never been a personal strength, yet as the experienced teacher stood looming over my shoulder, the need to perform seemed to be the last thing on my mind. “I think that after being treated their entire life as two halves of the same whole, the twins end up learning that genetics doesn’t dictate the way of the heart. The decisions we make, the people we choose to become are aspects of our lives that evolve into our own teachers and students. Lessons learned in our own subconscious minds…”

The woman shifted at my shoulder. “I’m sure you have many a lesson locked away in that mind Ms. Cabello.” She replied, a lilt in her voice. “Subconscious or otherwise.”

Actively choosing to ignore the premise, I continued to speak as I wrote. “The boys are forced to come together in the wake of their mother’s death to keep the suits and ties of Wall Street from stripping away the fortune they were due to inherit. The loss of their only childhood caregiver teaches the twins a lesson in redefining success through honesty, the fragility of masculinity, and the importance of lifting a worthy opponent as a friend and brother.”

“Redefining success?” Over my shoulder, Wilcox sounded impressed. “Not unlike Santiago’s own lesson.”

“I like to believe the marlin taught us all a little about struggle, defeat and death.” I agreed, setting my pencil down.

“Do you think you would ever write this book?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you know what you would you call it?”

“Shoulder to Shoulder.” I replied after a brief moment of thought. “Like Fred Astaire says, a heart beats in heaven when two people in love dance cheek to cheek. Family and friends are meant to stand shoulder to shoulder.”

The woman seemed satisfied at my reply, and for some foreign reason I found myself glad. “A fascinating view on the narrative and an excellent taste in music. I look forward to seeing what the future has in store for you this year Ms. Cabello She took her leave a few moments later, bidding me a kind goodnight and yet another promise to keep a close eye on my spilled ink. The clock struck eight pm, and an abrasively loud alarm forced me to find my way back to Lauren. The wave of concern and jealousy that had taken over my first morning back at school denoted a sour start, but the longer I stared at the sheet of paper I had unabashedly scribbled my story on, the better I felt.

“Oh I love to go out fishing…” I hummed softly, walking through the empty halls and letting the motion activated lights above flicker on for me as if it was a high end catwalk. The office Lauren worked in came into view. “River… or a creek. but it doesn’t thrill me… dancing ch—“ The door opened with a start, and I stepped back in surprise.

“Was that you singing?” Lauren questioned, closing it behind her and inserting the key back into the handle. She looked around, clearly trying to pin anyone else in the hall.

“No.” I lied with a shrug, taking her arm. “Lets go home. I’m going to help you pick out an outfit for your date with the new girl.”

“What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“I got into the Hemingway again.” I retrieved the crumpled half-sheet of paper from my pocket and handed it to her. Lauren took a long smiling look, looping her other arm around my shoulder as the two of us left the walls of the school and stepped out into the night.

***

#UPDATE #series #AU #slash #camren #angst drama #submission #Parting Shot

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a-calm-night · 7 years

Text

MY BREAST REDUCTION 2017

INTRODUCTION: One of the first things I did when I began considering surgery was google other people’s experiences. It was instrumental in deciding that it something I wanted to do, and took away a lot of the fear and uncertainty out of the decision. If those people hadn’t taken the time to put their experiences into written words I may not be where I am now, so hopefully by doing this I can help another big-boobed individual take their first step to a more comfortable life.

I was totally flat-chested until I was about 14-years-old, and then in the span of 6 months shot through the ranks until I could no longer accurately determine my size. I knew one thing though, because every fucking person who laid eyes on me felt the need to tell me: they were big. I’ve had a lot of shitty experiences because of my body; from being referred to as ‘Tits’ by boys I thought I had become familiar enough with that they would bother to remember my name, to being called a slut on multiple occasions by a friend’s mother all because I dared to show a little cleavage (which is hard not to do when they’re that size. Now that I’m older I can’t believe that an adult would say that to a young teenager. Seriously disgusting behaviour). I know that in their own convoluted way most of the time when people made comments they meant it as some sort of compliment but by the 500th time you hear that shit its like, look, I KNOW they’re big, okay? I LIVE WITH THEM. I KNOW THEY’RE BIG. STOP. TELLING. ME.

Then there’s the physical aspect of it all where everything hurts all the time and you can’t run or jump around or dare to move too quickly. Theres’s the back issues and the shoulder issues and the neck issues and all the rest of it. That sucked too, but to be honest it was always the mental and social side of things that bothered me the most.

I’d say I was around 17 when I first started looking into surgery. I kept telling myself that I wanted to do it and that I would do it but just kept putting it off out of fear and aversion to being cut open. I’m 21 now, and it was in January this year that I kicked myself into gear and started making actual moves towards it. I’d started taking anti-depressants a few months before that time and I think that having that extra motivation, confidence and energy was a huge catalyst.

THE SET UP: I went to my GP and asked for a referral. The GP asked me some question re: why I wanted a reduction, why I thought I needed one etc and once she was satisfied asked me if there were any surgeons I had in mind. I’d done some research and picked out a surgeon in my city that I liked the look of. She was one of the only Docs in Adelaide that actually had a gallery of her surgeries on her site to look at, and she had over 10 years experience specialising in breast augmentation - you can look at her website >here< if you want. The GP recommended another local surgeon who I had also already looked into, but a lot of her reviews said she had an attitude problem and as someone who has difficulty even making eye contact with people I really didn’t think I could handle that, so I asked for a referral for my pick instead.

Dr. Anderson had gone away for the new year, so it wasn’t until March that I was able to get in to see her (or February, or maybe April? My memory is really fuzzy on that for some reason). Anyway, when I had my appointment with her she took a look at my breasts. Her thoughts were that they were too large for my frame, with quite a lot of asymmetry (which is correct, I’d say my left side was a good 2 or 3 cups smaller), and that genetically they’d grown more on the top that the bottom which had resulted in a saggier appearance (also true, my nipples were far too low). Then she sat down with me and explained what the procedure would be and how she would do it. She asked me some questions about my health and family history, and gave me some information sheets. It was quite fast-paced but not in a rude way - it was just another rodeo for her while for me it was something life changing. After we were finished I went out to the front desk and the receptionist lady asked me if I wanted to book my surgery there and then, or take some time to think about it. I’d liked Dr. Anderson and was already set on my course of action so I decided to book my surgery date on the spot. Originally I was set for the 16th of May but due to some education I was fulfilling at the time I later had to move it to September the 18th. The suspense was maddening, I just wanted to get it over and done with.

THE SURGERY: Dr. Anderson decided to go with an ‘Anchor’ incision for my surgery, with some liposuction on the right-hand-side where I had some excess fat on the connection from my armpit to my breast. The anchor incision is described as:

The “anchor” breast reduction incision pattern follows around the perimeter of the areola, moving to a vertical line from the areola down to the breast crease, and then horizontally along the breast crease.

But how I would describe it is that she cuts underneath the boob fold, then in a line up and around the nipple. Y’know, like an anchor shape. She then takes out the excess breast tissue, and brings the nipple upwards to a more aesthetically balanced area before sewing everything back together. Then everything gets taped up with hyperfix dressings. Drains are inserted to take away the excess fluid your body produces to replace what is lost, and are removed 24 - 48 hours after surgery.

THE ACTUAL SURGERY: I was told to check into the hospital 6.30am. I woke up at 2.30 that morning freaking the fuck out. I was determined and excited, but still scared. Of course I’d entertained the thought that everything could go horribly wrong and was getting flashbacks to the unhealthy amount of ‘Botched’ episodes I’d been watching leading up to The Big Day.

This next section is very long so I’m going to do dot points to seperate it out a bit.

- Check into hospital. Sign in at desk, fill out some paper work. I’d had to fill out and send in a booklet of admittance information detailing things like my height, weight, current medication, living address, next of kin etc so they already had most of my information.

- Nurse comes to take me up to the second waiting area, where I sat for maybe 10 minutes before a different nurse took me into the pre-operative area. She took my weight and then we went into a curtained-off room where she went through and confirmed the information I’d given them and had me sign some consent forms. She gave me my hospital gown to change into and one of those towel-fabric dressings gowns, and a blanket. I also had to wear these super sexy surgery stockings that went up to my groin and were very tight, to stop blood clots from forming during surgery. Then she painted me up with this detol-like disinfectant and left to let it dry.

- Dr. Anderson comes in a draws up her incision patterns. The anaesthesiologist also came in and asked a few questions like when I’d last eaten and if I was a smoker, confirmed my weight and height and some other details. Dr. Anderson took a ‘before’ photo and left to get scrubbed in. - Man comes in and gets me set up in a wheelchair and a heated blanket before rolling me across the hospital to the room where they’d be performing the surgery. There was a little room with a bed that I got into and was introduced to one of the nurses who’d be assisting, and she confirmed my info again before I was taken into the operating theatre.

- Lay down on the operating table and meet the other guy who’s assisting. At my initial appointment with Dr. Anderson after I decided to book my surgery with her they had me fitted with a post-operative surgery bra, which they now laid underneath me so they could easily do up after they were done.

- The anaesthesiologist put an IV in my arm and put a mask up to my face and told me I would fall asleep in a few seconds. That was a strange experience. I was totally awake one second and then I tasted this awful acidic taste, was hit with a brief but blinding headache and then boom... gone.

- Next thing I know I’m waking up and there’s this absolute angel of a nurse (who I never actually saw ‘cause I had my eyes closed the whole time but her voice became my crutch in that first post-op hour) asking me if I wanted some water and showing me where my pain relief button is. Apparently I had a lot of pink surgery paint on my face which she made a valiant effort to remove and put some lip balm on my lips because they were super dry and I was really dehydrated, not having had any food or liquid since the day before (gotta fast before surgery so that you don’t choke on your vomit while your under anaesthetic).

- I was in that post-op area for maybe an hour? I was drifting in and out of unconsciousness and doped up so my perception of time was pretty screwy. I just remember angel-nurse telling me my room was ready and that she would be guiding the bed there. Apparently the beds have sensors or something that follow marks on the floor so all the nurses have to do is press a button and the bed drives itself, thought that was pretty cool.

- They took me into my room and I fell asleep again until I hear my mum’s voice asking the nurse how I was doing. It was a few hours later and she’d come in to visit. The hospital staff were doing their afternoon tea round so I had a coffee and some cake, and more water. I literally cannot describe how thirsty I was, even hooked up to an IV drip. Mum sat with me for like an hour but I kept passing out on her so we decided there wasn’t much point in her hanging around.

- The nurses came in once every hour to take my blood pressure, temperature, and oxygen levels. I had an IV in my left arm and another tube I think was probably the pain relief. The drains were coming out from both sides just underneath my armpits but they were really thin and I didn’t even realise they were there until I went to the toilet later and had to hold onto the collection bags. I had a blood-pressure cuff wrapped around my other arm so that they didn’t have to bother me to connect it every time they came in, and an oxygen reader clipped to my finger, and I had a vice grip on my pain relief remote. I didn’t actually use it all that much but it was comforting knowing that it was there. I also had these weird massage things connected to my legs to keep the blood flowing.

- I pretty much slept for the first 6 hours or so, drifting in and out and waking when the nurses came to check all my stats. The lady I was sharing a room with was watching the news, I had a TV too but I didn’t want to turn it on and have the sounds clashing together so I just listened to hers mostly. I had my phone on the table connected to my bed but I felt to groggy to really use it. They brought in some dinner (tomato pasta and mash) I thought it tasted pretty good. I’m not sure if hospital food just has a bad rap or if it was because I was SO hungry.

- My roomie left around 7pm and I had the room to myself after that. One of the nurses came in and folded back the room dividers and curtains so I could see out the windows, which was a nice thought. The hospital is up on a hill so you get a view of the highway and the city in the distance so it was nice to have something to look at. I didn’t sleep much that night but I’d been sleeping all day anyway and was still kind of dopey so I wasn’t that bothered.

- Morning eventually came around and I had some breakfast and the nurses came in and asked if I was feeling up to going home. I had the option to stay another night but I was feeling pretty good and just wanted to go home to my own bed. Dr. Anderson came in checked everything out, and the nurses got me set up with my prescribed pain killers. They took out the drains, which didn’t hurt nearly as much as I’d been dreading. It was more of a strange and uncomfortable pulling sensation. The lady taking them out had me take a deep breath and exhale as she pulled them out, which is a technique I would highly recommend.

- I was discharged around 10:30am, went home to bed, had some lunch, and slept a lot. You’re supposed to sleep sitting somewhat upright which was a lot easier in hospital with the adjustable bed, but at home I had to prop myself up with pillows which was pretty uncomfortable but for the first day or two I was too tired to really care. Later, I ended up sleeping on a beanbag but this post is long enough already so I’ll make a seperate one detailing the recovery so far.

THE PAYMENT: I live in South Australia so my experience with this is probably vastly different from someone who lives in another country, or even another state. I’m lucky enough to have private health insurance which means that I didn‘t have to pay for the hospital stay itself, and was able to get some of the other fees at a lower rate.

There were three categories of payment: The Surgeon, the anaesthesiologist, and the assistance fee.

In my case, the surgeon was owed $5000, the anaesthetic was $500, and the assistance fee was $750. I’ll be getting some money back from the Private Health fund from the assistance, but I’m not sure how much. $5000 for the surgeon is a bit more expensive than some of the others I looked into considering I can’t claim that payment with the PH, but I knew I wanted Dr.Anderson so I was willing to pay. Surgery... is expensive. I’m lucky enough to live at home with my parents who charge me only a pittance to live with them, and have a relatively stable income as an aged care worker. I’ve always been a hardcore money-hoarder (AKA, a cheapskate), and knowing that surgery was something I wanted gave me the extra motivation to save enough to pay for it all.

That being said, if you live in Australia you can go through this procedure under medicare! The reason I chose not to do this is because I wanted to choose my surgeon myself, choose which hospital the procedure was done in, and choose when the surgery itself would be performed. I don’t have all the info on this but its my understanding that through medicare you don’t have much of say in who, where, or when its done. One of my coworkers is getting her mammoplasty done through medicare so if anyone wants more info regarding this, I can ask her no worries :)

This is all a lot longer than I had intended for it to be and I’ve been writing for hours so I’ll stop myself here. I am almost at the one-month post-op milestone so I’ll write a seperate post detailing my recovery in a few days.

If anyone has any questions regarding this surgery please, please, feel free to ask. It makes it so much less scary and easier if you have someone you can grill for info, and I’m happy to be that person for anyone considering surgery no matter what stage you’re in. Having this surgery is honestly the best thing I have ever done for myself and I really encourage anyone who wants it to look at all their options, because now that its done I cant imagine having to carry that weight around for the rest of my life.

Before I forget, I was somewhere around a 12E before have come down to a 10DD at this stage. Doesn’t seem like that big of a difference but they will likely go down again as the swelling reduces. They took 400~ grams from my left and 600~ from my right. I feel fantastic :)

#Breast Reduction #mammoplasty #Breast Augmentation #Breast lift #Surgery

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