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fggtwrmz · 3 years

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✞ pretty little sinner ✞

Hihi!! Taz here with this accounts first ((technically second)) post! This ones a full fic so it’s v lengthy

warnings: dubcon, noncon is you squint, size kin, dirty talk, talk of breeding, oral, religious themes, degradation, dumbification, dacryphilia, talk of corruption, did i mention degradation? cus we went a lil ham on degration, very rough in general, no like seriously kuroos hella mean here

please mind the warnings and leave if your uncomfortable with any listed!!

wc: 7.6k

The whole small town that you had lived in had known you and your parents as the perfect catholic family, and why would they have any reason to not believe that? After all, you were always such a good girl. The pride and joy of your parents’ lives, you did good in school, never complained about chores, and attended church every Sunday. That’s right, you were the perfect little catholic school girl.

That's what drew you into him.

You looked so innocent, so pure, so breakable, he just had to have you.

And that cute little cross necklace you wore to show your faith? He just wanted to rip it off of you. Have you worship him instead.

When you had spoken to him you didn’t imagine what he would actually be like. He’d put up such a sweet facade. But that's all it was.

A facade.

“What’s someone as pretty as you doing in a place like this, Dollface?” Came out the velvety voice of the walking personification of temptation himself; Kuroo Tetsuro.

You had heard about him through whispered rumors throughout the halls. He had an infamous reputation. But rumors were just that. Rumors.

So you humored him.

“At….The corner store? I’m getting snacks, what does it look like?” You had to giggle. It was such a foolish question. So foolish that you didn’t know the weight that it had held.

He had you hook, line, and sinker, you were just too innocent to realize. And he had been oh so sweet to accept your invitation to church on Sunday! Of course, you had to ask him, the house of God was as good a place to get to know someone as any. Much better than a dingy corner store anyway.

His words were sweet and charming, even for just a small chat. There was a look on his face that made you suspect something, but the way he spoke pushed your suspicions.

So when Sunday came and you saw him waiting for you at the door, in what appeared was his normal attire, you still gave him a big smile and waved him over to where you and your parents were.

“Kuroo! You made it!” You wanted to embrace him in a hug, but you felt that would be a little too familiar for someone you had only met yesterday at a convenience store. “Of course I made it, I wouldn’t blow someone as cute as you off.” He spoke, caressing your cheek.

Of course he wasn't nervous about being too familiar.

You felt the warmth rush to your cheeks, the affection catching you off guard.

“Sorry if I seem a bit underdressed.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, though it seemed as if he didn’t care. His attire could be deemed inappropriate for a church setting. His ripped jeans, loose-fitting button-up shirt, Jordan Retros, contrasting with your pure white short sleeve blouse, frilly plaid green and black skirt, and shining black Mary Janes, and of course that shiny cross necklace that hung so prettily from your neck.

You giggled, “No worries! I’m sure if you had shown up naked the lord wouldn’t turn you away.”

And there you went again, going on about how the lord would love anyone, sinner or saint. He’d wondered how you would react if you knew the sins he had committed, had planned to commit.

He wondered what filthy sins such a precious girl like you were hiding under that short little skirt of yours.

He couldn’t wait to find out.

You had taken your seat in the far back pews, opting to sit in between him and your parents. You’d been paying attention to your pastor, up until you felt a warm, calloused hand rest itself on your thigh.

You looked up with a curious look, but Kuroo seemed to be more focused on the word of the holy father than you, so you relaxed at his touch. Keyword; seemed.

And that wasn’t all he was planning to do, unfortunately for you.

He rubbed up and down your upper thigh, occasionally squeezing the soft flesh between your skirt’s end and your thigh highs beginning, pushing your skirt just a little higher up your thighs to get more space.

At that moment you thought you'd absolutely die if your parents looked over at the sinful act that was going on between you two, but when you looked over they were both too caught up in the pastor’s prayer to notice anything.

His hand moved inward, causing your breath to hitch. His fingers practically brushed against your core, causing you to let out a gasp. It was loud enough for just him to hear but low enough to where your parents wouldn’t suspect anything.

You placed a hand on his wrist, signaling it was not the time for this. He simply flashed a smirk, never looking down your way. His fingers made their way to your panties, gently rubbing against your folds, you ended up dampening the garments in the process.

You sucked in your breath, now holding onto his wrist with a feverish grip, notifying him just how on edge you were.

“Time for the communion! Everyone, form a line, children, teenagers, then adults.” Father announced.

You let out a breath you weren't aware you were holding in.

Your pastor had just saved you from eternal damnation.

You and Kuroo walked in line, behind a couple of kids and in front of a few more teens. He rubbed down your shoulders and arms, sending chills down your spine.

You held your hands behind your back as children took their crackers which were symbolic of the flesh of Jesus, their “wine” symbolic of the blood of Christ, and scattered back to their seats.

When it was your turn, Kuroo made sure to keep a keen eye on the way your head tilted back ever so slightly when you had opened your mouth for the cracker to be placed on your tongue.

He wondered what other situations you would be in such an arguably compromising position.

You ate the cracker and took the small, plastic shot glass-like cup with you back to your seat.

“Nah,” Kuroo shook his head, declining the offer of the cracker, and took the cup, downing it and throwing it in the small trash bin next to the pastor, walking back to his seat, not looking back.

He sat back down next to you, his hands in his pockets this time. You stared ahead, waiting for anything to happen, the tension between you two was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Suddenly, he leaned down to your ear, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck. “By the way, you get so fucking wet. It’d be pathetic if it weren't so adorable.” He hummed, sending heat straight to your core.

You gasped at his words, looking up at him as he leaned back up. “Kuroo!” You whispered. “You shouldn’t curse in the house of the lord!”

He looked down at you and chuckled slightly.

“Oh princess, if it were just us here I’d do so much worse.” He teased, making your eyes widen. Heat rushed over your body, causing you to break eye contact with him. His gaze became too much to bear.

Your parents and pastor had warned you of temptation before, but you had always thought it would be easy to overcome. You would have never thought that it could be something like this. His words and gentle touches felt like too much yet not enough all at the same time.

You wanted it all to stop, but yet you wanted to beg for more.

But you had to keep your composure, God's eyes were on you, you reminded yourself.

But all you could feel was his eyes on. They were fixated on you. The thought alone of that insatiable look in his eye made your thighs pressed together and your throat run dry. It all made your head reel.

And just like that, it was over.

You had been so lost in thought that it took Kuroo shaking you to make you notice everyone getting up and gathering outside for the weekly catch-ups that turned, “just a few minutes dear, and then I swear we’ll leave,” into 30 minutes and plans to babysit Mrs. Johnson's grandsons next weekend.

“Is it time to go?” Kuroo asked you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Only the adults are leaving, the teenagers and children stay for Sunday school, that’s why I’m wearing this outfit.” You whispered to him.

He went silent until he proposed an idea that caught you way off guard. “We should go back to my place for bible study, I might be able to show you a different type of God.”

Your eyebrows raised at the sudden invitation, you didn’t know what he meant by that, but you know it’d be rude to decline such an offer since he had come to Sunday worship despite his belief in this “other type of god”.

Before you could answer he tapped your mother’s shoulder, catching the attention of both of your parents.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I speak to you for a second?” He asked politely. Your parents said their goodbyes to Sister Elise and stepped away with you and Kuroo. “Yes?” Came the voice of your mother.

“Would it be alright if me and your sweet daughter here, a real angel if I do say so, could go back to mine so we can go over the Psalms? I would offer to do it over the phone but the lord’s word can only be understood in person.” It’s like he had the good Christian boy next door role down pact.

Your parents looked at each other worriedly. “I don’t know, will there be a guardian to watch over you two?” Your father asked. “Yes sir, my fathers at work, but my mother will be there. I promise I’ll have her home at a reasonable time.” He promised.

Oh yeah, he has this little act down to the T, not like you could see through it though. You were so naive and thought that you could bring out the good in him with the help of good. How foolish.

Your father looked at his watch. “It's five now, so have her home no later than eight. Understood?” “Crystal clear, thank you, sir. Shall we get going?” He asked you, a perfect and pure smile plastered on his face.

He was too perfect, your parents already adored him.

Too bad it was only to get in your pants.

———

You were on his bed. His room smelled of pinewood and lavender. You drowned in the scent, loving every second of it.

His room was nothing like yours, he had deep red walls, wooden floors, and everything looked to be either black or red, barely any other colors being seen other than the clothes in his closet, and some other things you couldn’t identify, but he shut it before you could get a good look.

“Sorry if my room is a bit dirty, I didn’t think about cleaning up before inviting you.” He apologized, closing the curtains.

You loved the way he spoke, it was like his words were coated with chocolate. His luscious and velvety voice made you think things, things the lord would frown upon.

“No worries! Nobody’s perfect.” You kindly reassured him with a polite smile.

He’d think differently, you were a goddess in his eyes. Every part of you, even everything he couldn’t see, not that he’d be in the dark for much longer.

He chuckled, his eyes wandering down your figure, undressing you with his eyes, as you sat innocently on his bed waiting for whatever he might do.

“So where’s your mom?” You asked innocently, catching him off guard. “What?” “You said your mom was here, where is she? I didn’t see her when we walked in.”

He’d already forgotten. Typical.

“Oh, she’s probably taking a nap.” He lied with ease.

He didn’t think he'd be able to forgive himself if he was in the presence of his mother while thinking about such ungodly things. He planned to defile you, and he wanted to be the only one who even got close to experiencing you in such a state.

“Oh well-uhm...I’ll be sure to be quiet so I don’t disturb her.”

He held in a chuckle. There was no way that you would be quiet, no way you could be quiet when he got his way.

“So…. While I have no real interest in changing faiths, I have to ask about the god that you worship.”

He had you right where he wanted you.

He hovered over your frame at the edge of the bed, him standing and towering over you. He’d lifted your chin to look up at him with the tips of his fingers and said in a delightfully sinful tone,

“Oh baby,” He leaned in close to your ear, you could feel his hot breath on your sensitive skin. “I’m the new god, and you're gonna worship me like I’m your true creator.”

You felt yourself shrink, yes at the way he was menacingly towering over you, but at the way he describes his God—no, himself.

“You-you’re...the god you were talking about?” You stammered, your hands on his chest, trying to make some distance between you and his dominating presence.

Sadly to no avail.

“Mhm, and you’re going to be a good girl and obey me, understood?”

"Y-yes, sir."

"Awe look at you, using your manners without me having to tell you. Keep that up and you just might get a reward." He cooed.

You felt a familiar heat pool at the pit of you.

What was he going to do to you? What were these sudden temptations? And most importantly why did you want more.

This was god testing you, and you were failing miserably.

You wanted so badly to give in to your desires. To leave behind the life of that sweet innocent angel that everyone once knew, you wanted to give yourself wholly to your new one and only savior.

You were really doing this.

You were abandoning the only faith you’d ever known for some stranger.

For all you know he could be a demon from hell himself, here to stray you away from the path the lord had originally sent you to. No, he couldn’t be a demon. He was so sweet when the two of you had first met, and he was so polite when addressing your parents.

You felt like Eve, being tempted with such a delicious specimen by the devil himself. So when he pushed his lips against yours harshly, like Eve, you gave in.

His lips molded perfectly against yours. Your tongues were dancing in an elegant waltz that could only be described as heavenly. His lips tasted so sweet on yours. If this was the forbidden fruit you would happily taste it again and again.

His hands roamed your backside, hiking your skirt up so he could get a feel of your cotton panties. Your breathing sped, feeling him caress your clad ass. You’d always been told to never let anyone touch you like this unless you’re married, but I guess your god was the only exception.

That’s right. Kuroo was god now, and you had to let him do whatever you want.

Suddenly, he roughly pulled your skirt off, throwing it behind him. You whimpered, afraid he might’ve ripped your skirt.

Feeling his rough hands run up your sides and into your shirt, he stopped kissing you to look down, causing you to let out a whine, missing the feeling of his lips on yours.

“Awe baby, don’t look so sad, I’ll get your mouth back to work real soon.” He whispered, trying to unbutton your shirt. Trying.

You could tell he was getting frustrated at how the buttons wouldn’t come undone.

He groaned loudly, grabbing an open hole of your blouse and ripping it open, making the buttons of your shirt fly everywhere. You gasped, whining because now you didn’t have anything to come home in.

“Kuroo! How am I supposed to go home without a shirt?” You whined, hearing him chuckle soon after.

“Hush, you’ll be fine don’t worry, you won’t be needing it anytime soon.” Kuroo reassured with a smirk.

He unclipped your bra and threw it behind him, looking down hungrily at your tits, admiring how perfect they were. He cupped one of them and proceeded to place the other in his mouth. You let out a soft moan, awakening something fierce in him.

“Oh fuck, I can’t wait to hear more of those sweet sounds, princess. That’s right, let it all out for me baby.”

He kissed up your chest and to your neck, peppering kisses and bite marks on you. Claiming you.

He bit down on a certain spot, making you moan out, your fingers getting intertwined with the back of his hair. Your legs clung onto his waist as he abused the spot with his mouth, leaving dark hickeys.

Your moans became needier when he brought his knee up to your cunt, grinding it right against your clit, making you wetter by the second.

You felt high on ecstasy, the pleasure becoming heavenly, but what made everything pure bliss was his words.

The way he’d call you his baby, his princess in between kisses, and the best of all, his little sinner.

Being called his sinner made you feel a different type of feeling. It felt wrong, you could feel the heavens looking down on you in disappointment with each response you gave him.

Yes, you’d be giving up your oath to stay pure until marriage, but if it’s your god taking your virginity, what harm could be done?

When he lifted up off you, you were snapped from your pleasure.

He was looking down at your body and you resting upwards on your elbows, wondering why he’d left.

“Get on your knees.” It wasn't a request. It was an order. One that you, of course, didn’t even think to disobey.

So there you sat. All pretty and kneeling in front of him as if he was an alter.

You looked like such a perfect slut in his eyes. Who knew that such an innocent little virgin could look like the perfect whore.

He wouldn’t tell you that though. No, he wanted to warm you up first. Call you such sweet names, make you feel like his precious baby girl and then let you know just how much of a dirty slut he thought you were.

Knew you were.

All you needed was a push in the right direction. And he would provide that push.

“Now you want to know how to appease your god, don’t you?”

You nodded from in between his legs enthusiastically.

“Well, first, you have to atone for your sins. Now how would we go about doing that?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know what to say.

“C’mon baby, be a good girl and use your words. How would you atone for your sins? Think about the position you're in before you answer.”

You looked down at your legs which were folded underneath you and looked back up at him.

“P-Prayer?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at your innocence. “Oh princess, so innocent even in such a vulgar position baby. You’re gonna atone for your sins by sucking me off. You don't want me to be mad, do you?”

Of course you didn’t. You didn’t even understand what sins you had even committed, but if Kuroo says you’ve sinned, you'll let him do anything to make you holy again.

He stood up and unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock and waving it teasingly over you.

“Now stick out your tongue.”

You did as you were told, eyes never leaving his cock. It was the only one you’d ever seen, and the only one you ever wanted to see. It was a good 7 or 8 inches and about 4 inches wide in girth.

It had the drool pooling at the bottom of your tongue before falling on your thigh high socks. It felt every bit as sinful as it looked and it had your panties soaked. You'd grinded against yourself for some sort of friction.

“Awe, so pretty for me, now listen to me, you're gonna take everything I give you, ok princess?”

You nodded, feeling as if your voice would betray if you tried to speak.

“What’d I say about using your words? Such a shame, you were being so good earlier.”

“Sorry sir, please don’t be mad, I promise I’ll-I'll take it all. I'll be so good for you.” The words were coming out faster than you could control. If someone would have told you that you would be in that predicament about a week ago you would have laughed in their face. But here you were, begging for him to do something, anything.

You sounded absolutely brain dead and he loved it.

“Ah, yeah that’s it, that’s my good girl.” He said grabbing you by your hair and gently guiding you down his shaft.

“Fuck baby, ‘gonna train this throat so well you’ll be ready to worship this cock with your mouth anytime of any day.” He growled, lowering your head down faster, soon hearing you gag over his length. You felt tears prick your eyes as he finally thrusted his full length in your mouth, going well past your limits.

He lets out a dark chuckle, suddenly being cut off by a throaty moan.

“Ah f-fuck princess you’re being such a good girl, now remember to breathe through your nose.” He reminded you, resulting in you looking up at him and nodding, letting him know you understood.

Your parents would disown you if they knew what you were doing. Your pastor and priest wouldn’t even think of speaking to you. You’d only have Kuroo, but that doesn’t sound too bad. After all, you had devoted your life to your religion in the past, so what would be so different now? You’d just be able to indulge in such fine luxuries as getting facefucked after church.

He put his other hand on your head, roughly shoving your head down, matching the bucking upwards of his hips. The action erupted a loud groan from him, throwing his head back.

You could feel him all the way down your throat.

“Oh yeah, that’s my good girl, fucking hell baby girl,” he moaned, you could feel his thrusting start to get uneven, your throat not having anymore time to adjust to his size and abuse.

His pace was absolutely brutal but you sat there, taking everything he gave you.

On the inside you were smiling, happy to please your god, you felt so proud of yourself for making him feel good. Being his good little girl. His obedient little worshipper.

Your eyes became watery, the way he roughly thrusted into your mouth made your throat hurt, which made your eyes water.

He bit his lip, lowering the sound of the grunt he let out. “Mmf, baby you look so pretty right now, such a pretty fucking princess for me.” He grunted.

You didn’t feel pretty, though. Your face was covered in tears, sweat, makeup, and ran down mascara. Your hair was under Kuroo’s grip, messily overlapping his hands. Strings of drool were hanging from your plump lips onto your thighs, not to mention your soaked panties.

Kuroo on the other hand looked heaven sent. Hair messily askew and face tinted slightly red. Biting his lip while sweat slid down his forehead. He looked like he was graced by God.

He looked like he was graced by God.

You felt ashamed at how wet you got by just looking at him, but fuck was he sexy.

He shoved your head down quicker and quicker, thrust harder into your mouth. “Fuck, fuck baby you’re gonna-you’re gonna make me—” His groans became more and more breathy, and his working became more and more sloppy, until you felt a warm, thick, sticky liquid coat the insides of your mouth.

The foreign substance tasted bitter and you wanted to spit it—

“Ah ah,” he sang, grabbing your chin to make you look up at him.

You looked disgusting. He wanted to see you like this more often.

“Be good and swallow for me, baby girl.”

You gulped down the liquid, feeling it still in your throat, but it didn’t bother you enough to where you couldn’t breath.

“Di-did I do good, sir?” You sounded absolutely broken, and it was like music to his ears.

“You did amazing, I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard. Does your face feel alright?” He cooed, tucking himself back into his pants.

“My jaw hurts, and so does my throat, but I’m glad I got to make you feel good.”

Kuroo smirked, admiring what he molded you into. Such a dedicated disciple, you deserve an award. “Now it’s your turn. Come on, hop up on the bed for me,” he commanded, patting the spot on his bed beside him.

You did so eagerly, not wanting to break your obedience streak. You sat on your feet, your hands resting on each of your thighs, smiling with the light shining beautifully in your eyes.

Even as the mascara ran down your cheek, you looked so beautiful to him.

“Lay down.” He softly said. You obeyed, as usual, keeping your legs closed in the air. You had no idea what he was thinking of doing.

“Spread them for me, babes.” He commanded. You were confused, why did he want your legs spread?

“Wait, why?” You asked innocently. His eyebrows furrowed.

“Because I said so. You’re not really denying the word of your lord, are you?”

Of course you didn’t. You were completely devoted to him, so without further hesitation you spread your legs. He pulled your drenched panties up off you and threw them somewhere in the room.

He ducked himself inbetween your thighs and planted your thighs on the side of his head with a secure grip.

“W-Wait!” You squeaked out.

“What’s wrong baby? You’ve been such a good girl, and good girls deserve rewards now don’t they?” He acts like this is for you, when in all honesty it’s all been for him. This whole time he’s only been fulfilling his desires of turning you from a sweet and innocent princess into a filthy fucked out whore and he knows this will only speed the process a bit, you just so happen to be getting some pleasure out of it.

“Yeah I gue- Ah!” A moan cut you off when you felt him lick up your wet folds, moaning your legs jolt up and your back arch.

He plunged his tongue into you, his thick tongue thrusts into you, making your moans come out in squeaks. You felt absolutely amazing already.

His tongue circled around your clit, pushing his tongue in and out of you in patterns; leaving his tongue in, out, for a second, then in again going back to sucking and circling.

Your moans became higher and breathier each time his tongue circled your clit, it drove him absolutely crazy.

He was...spelling something? You could feel it as he kept making the same trails around your cunt.

Kuroo.

“Mmph, Kuroo, more please…” You moaned tugging at his hair. He slid his thumb up your thigh, rubbing your clit as he pushed his tongue deeper in you, prodding your sweet spot.

The sudden action made you cry out in pleasure, tugging at his hair. He moaned from under you at the sudden mix of pain and pleasure on his scalp.

Kuroo stuck his tongue in and out of you, continuing to rub your clit with his thumb. You felt a tingling sensation grow low in your stomach, making your grip tighten on Kuroo’s hair and while your other frantically grabbed at his sheets, the foreign feeling traveling through your entire being.

You moaned his name, wanting to ask him what the sensation was, but your mind only focused on him, making barely anything come out other than moans and his name.

His fingers sped up as his tongue explored your walls. The sensation made you tighten, sending chills through your core as the pressure became too much to process alone.

Your legs twitched as your orgasm rocked through you, your eyes rolling back, gripping his hair tightly.

All that you could think of in that moment was Kuroo. KurooKurooKurooKuroo. It was a repeating mantra in your mind.

Your walls tightened around Kuroo’s tongue, a moan squeaking from your throat. Your grip tightened as you came, covering his tongue. You came from your high slowly, allowing you to let out a satisfied sigh.

You smiled peacefully as he hungrily lapped at your clit, making sure not to let a single drop of your cum slip from his tongue.

As he pulled out his fingers and lifted up from your body, you relaxed, your legs falling and your hand bringing itself to rest upon your stomach.

He came up and captured your lips in a bruising kiss, making sure you could taste yourself on his tongue. You tried pushing him away, not liking the taste of yourself, but he slapped your thigh, taking your hands and holding both of them above your head.

You whimpered squirming, uncomfortable with him holding you down. You shook your head in the kiss, trying to get away, but he only took this as an invitation to slide his tongue into your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss, feeling your body temperature rise as he rocked against you, grinding against your thigh. The foreign feeling felt weird, but knowing you were giving him pleasure did cloud your mind with a hazy fog.

He parted ways from the kiss and looked down on you.

You looked so fucked out, and the real fun hadn’t even started yet. He wondered how you would be able to take him all the way, the thought of you not being able to handle all of him snuck its way into his mind and making him groan.

You would look so cute crying that it was all too big, how it wouldn’t fit. The money he’d pay to see that, he’d bow down and pray to any god to see that image and keep it in his mind forever.

He leaned up and loomed over you, caging you with his hands on either side of your head. His eyes were dark with lust. It struck a tinge of fear in you.

He unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out, and spread your legs once more.

Leaning down, he whispered in your ear. "Do you think you're worthy enough for my cock princess?"

"Huh!?"

"Awe, what did you think was gonna happen sweetheart? You thought it'd be that easy to make up for your sins—"

"But you said—" you felt tears prick your eyes. You didn't think you were ready for such a big step before marriage. You two weren't even dating!

"But you said—" He mocked in a whiny voice. "I know what I said, and now I'm saying," he pulled you by the cross on your necklace.

"That I'm gonna fuck you until you’re too fucked out to even think about anything else. I'll turn you into such a pretty whore that you'll feel dirty even thinking about stepping foot in that church. Do you understand slut?"

Whore? Slut? Where was this coming from? He’d been so nice to you. You wouldn’t think he’d call you such degrading names. It was like a switch had been flipped inside him.

You looked down at his size, causing you to whimper in fear for your small body.

Kuroo squeezed your cheeks in one hand roughly, making you whine, your eyes watering. “Use your words, you dumb bitch. Do you or do you not understand what I’m saying?” He repeated.

You nodded. “I-I understa-stand.” You hiccuped, hugging your arms.

You we’re borderline sobbing at this point. This wasn’t the smooth and sweet guy who chatted you up in the convenience store. This wasn’t the sweet christian boy your parents knew. This man was Lucifer himself.

And now, your new lord and saviour.

You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. You should have never given him the benefit of the doubt. Everyone was right about him. He was just a mean playboy jerk who treated women like shi-

“Awe don’t cry sweetheart. You were doing so good just a minute ago.” His sweet and comforting tone snapped you from your thoughts, and you felt your mind become just a bit less panicked about the whole situation. “Although, you do look awfully pretty when you cry… hm… How bout this; I’ll just make you feel so good to where your instant reaction is to cry. That way I get to see that cute little tear-stained face, and you get to have my expert cock. How does that sound, princess?”

You nodded, feeling like if you opened your mouth only sobs would come out.

“What did I say about your words?” He quickly chastised.

“S-Sorry. Yes sir I-I’d like that…”

“That's a good girl,” The praise made your chest bubble with joy. You were happy that you could be seen as good in his eyes after all the disgusting things he had just called you.

“Now here’s the worst part.”

And that was all the warning you got before he rammed his cock into you. It was the worst pain that you had ever felt. The agonizing stretch, the unfamiliar feeling of being so full, it all was too painful to bear. So you did exactly what he planned and cried.

He thought of going slow, he really did, but then he wouldn’t be able to see you and those absolutely gorgeous tear streaks.

“Kuroo, it hurts! It’s too much! Take it out please!” You sobbed out.

He laughed at you. “Aww poor baby, is it too much?”

“Good.” He said with another slam of his hips. “You seem—fuck— to forget what we’re—oh god your so fucking tight—doing this for. You were acting like a bitch in church. In the house of your—shit—precious lord.” He said the last point in a mocking tone. “And now you're just paying for your sins to your new god.” He breathed out while continuing to thrust into you at a brutal pace.

You could only cry harder as he fucked you with such vigor. The stretch was so painful and with every rough thrust he hit your cervix dead on. It was absolute torture.

So you 're confused as to why the pain slowly subsided and turned to pleasure. Were you… enjoying this? No. There was no way. You didn’t even get a real say in what was happening. So why we’re tiny gasps coming out faster than you could stop them? And why did your hips start to move down to match his thrusts.

“How do you thi-think your parents would react to your sinful actions right now? Huh, you dumb slut? Bet they’d be so disappointed to see that their precious little girl is nothing but a pretty little sinner huh? Say it! Fuck- Say you’re a sinner, and make sure the neighbors can hear you say it.”

“B-but your mom..!”

“You actually believed that?” He laughed. His laughing consisted of grunts and groans, making his laughing time out. “You’re such a fucking dumbass, you know that? I wouldn’t be touching your disgusting ass if my mother was home.” He growled, making more tears stream down your face.

You whined, covering your face because of the absurd amount of embarrassment you felt.

“Oh no no no, don’t cover your beautiful face now!” He grunted, taking both of your wrists and holding them above your head.

With only the bottom half of his cock fucking into you, his thrusts were long and deep, making sure you felt it in your stomach. Your eyes rolled back with each agonizingly painful and deep thrust, your nails ripping off your skins from balling your fists.

“Oh fuckkkk you're so tight for me.” Kuroo groaned. ”How’s such a slut like you got such a tight pussy?”

It was obvious that the question was rhetorical as he started to slow his thrusts but put more force behind them, bruising your cervix. All you could let out were little “ah ah ah ahhhhhhs”.

He slowly stopped, looking down at your trembling body. He let out a breathy groan, shaking his head and biting his lip.

He let go of one of your wrists and grabbed hold of your hand, bringing it down to your stomach.

“Princess, do you feel that?” He asked, rubbing your hand over a bump on your stomach. You looked down with him, seeing a slight bump stand with attention below your belly button, making your eyes widen and your breath quicken.

“Ka-ka-Kuroo! What is that?!” You frantically questioned.

He looked up at you with the most agrivated, most dumb founded look on his face. “What do you mean, ‘what’s that’?! That’s me, dollface.” He spat, making you jump. “Y-you..?”

He groaned, slamming into you again, causing you to scream out again. “Ya’ see that moving in your stomach? That’s me, fucking deep into your tight tight pussy.” He growled. You look down again, seeing the bulge in your stomach move with each sharp thrust Kuroo sent through you.

It made your head feel fuzzy.

Your body started adjusting to his size, finally. You lifted your legs to cling onto the side of his waist, but they quickly fell spread for him. Your arms also stopped struggling, relaxing under his grip. Your eyes slowly rolled to the back of your head. With each animalistic thrust of his hips you could feel the bed shake. You could barely hear the frame hit the wall over the sound of your high whines and moans and his low groans filling your ear. But you could still faintly hear it, reminding of how rough he was getting.

“Alright princess now open your mouth and stick your tongue out.” He commanded from over you.

You opened your mouth and leaned your head back being sure to lol your tongue out.

You felt a cold liquid settle near the tip of your tongue, it was Kuroo’s spit. He’d let it fall like a fountain. Licking his lips when he’d finished.

“Now swallow like a good girl.”

You closed your mouth and gulped. Letting the spit slide down your tongue. It should have grossed you out, but instead it made your eyes roll back.

“Aww, look at you, all pretty and fucked out.” he shrugged, thrusting upwards into you, hitting a spot that made you scream out in ecstasy.

“Kuroo, right there! Fuck, Kuroo yes right there!!” You moaned, arching your back and throwing your head back.

That was the first time you cursed. Ever.

“Such a dirty vocabulary you’re discovering! I’m such a good influence on you, your parents would be so proud.” He sarcastically exclaimed in a low and gravelly voice.

Your parents. You were so caught up in your pleasure that you completely forgot all about them, and the time limit they'd set for you. You were sure you’d past it, it was fairly dark outside.

You whined, feeling more tears of disappointment roll down the side of your face. “Do-don’t talk about them right now…Ah-I’m gonna-Kuroo fuck p-please!”

He only thrusted harder faster. “Awe baby, do you think you're the one in control? That’s so cute.” He pulled you by your necklace for the second time that night. “You’re atoning for your sins, and I’m using your body for my own pleasure. So you’re gonna sit back, and make sure the only thing that comes out of that pretty. Little. Mouth,” He punctuated each word with a harsh thrust. “Are those pretty. Little. Moans. You got that princess?”

“Y-yes sir. I’m so sorry sir.”

“Awe look at my baby! Using her words like a good girl!” He deeply cooed.

You bit your lip, holding back the moan you desperately wanted to let out, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of your voice. He noticed and started to pound faster. You couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Fuck! Kuroo! Ple-ase! Fuck you’re so good. Sosososo good. Pleeeeease!”

“Listen to you! You sound downright pathetic!” He laughed at you. It felt humiliating, but you felt yourself getting wetter from the whole situation. The intensity, the humiliation, Kuroo’s groans, they all were filling up your senses, and you could feel yourself nearing your climax.

“Look at you, you’re getting tighter. How much of a- fuuuuck how is it possible that your tighter- slut are you? You're really getting off to me calling you a slut? You like that? Huh? Go on, answer me whore.”

“Yes! Yes Kuroo! I’m your whore! Fuuuuuckkkk!” Your moans were high and breathy.

He pulled you by your necklace one again and snatched it clean off of you.

You gasped, snapping out of your lustful trance. “Kuroo!!! My dad gave me that!!” You cried.

“I don’t give a fuck, I’m your god now, you don’t need a stupid cross, I’ll let everyone know you’re mine.” He huffed, dangling it in front of you, before throwing it out his window.

The window. The window!

“K-Kuroo, how long has that be-been open?” You asked.

He groaned, slowing down his thrust. “The window? It’s been open since this morning.” He shrugged, fucking into you sloppier and sloppier.

You felt embarrassed, heat rushing over your being as you held onto Kuroo to hide your face. “O-oh…” you moaned, scrunching your eyebrows together in embarrassment.

“What’s wrong baby? Are you embarrassed? Are you embarrassed that my whole neighborhood can hear how bitchy, and pathetic you sound? Fuck- Good, fucking cry about it like the stupid bitch you are.”

Each insult brought you closer to that edge. You forgot all about your previous embarrassment and basked in the bliss of Kuroo’s rough thrusts.

“Holy shit- Did you get tighter from me reminding you of how much of a—shiiiiiitttt—of a fucking slut you are?” His voice sounded so breathy. You could feel him twitching inside of you.

And then the dam broke. You could feel your orgasm sparking through you like electricity.

“Kuroo! Kuroo! Im cumm- Im cumming! Oh Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck! You're so good!”

He revelled in the profanities spilling from your mouth, knowing that before this you probably would have never thought about saying such vile things.

“Oh thats right baby who’s making you cum on his cock like a dumb bitch in heat? Who’s your god? C’mon, say it, princess.”

“You! Shit! You're my god! Oh please- It’s too much! It's- It’s too much!”

He laughed at you. “How many fucking—Fuck baby you feel so good—How many times do I have to tell you this isn’t- Shit- This isn’t for you.” The last part came out as a dark growl.

“Y-Yes sir! I’m sorry.”

“Yeah that's a good girl, oh you're such a good slut for me. Shutting up and just taking it. Yeahhh that's a good fucking whore. You want your god to cum inside you? Breed you and fill you up so nice? That what you want princess?”

Your eyes widened. Nononono he couldn’t! He had to pull out!

“N-No...Please...” Your voice sounded so weak and tiny.

“Oh no baby, that was rhetorical. You're gonna sit back and let me breed this little pussy like a good girl who stays in her place, because surely- fuck- you remember your place and wouldn’t talk back, now would you?”

You knew it was useless to deny him. You don’t even know why you tried.

After a few more thrust there was a particularly hard one. The force of fit knocked you back a bit, but he pulled you back by your thighs so he would stay fully buried inside of you.

Suddenly you felt nothing but warmth filling you. He was cumming inside you. You could feel him shooting spurt after spurt. You had never felt so full, his thick cock splitting you accompanied by his come pushed you to another orgasm. Your legs shot up and you let out a loud whiny moan.

“Oh god! Oh fuck! You feel so good filling me up Kuroo- Fuck!”

“Aww you came again from me cumming in you? What happened to you not wanting it?” He teased. You couldn’t respond, you still hadn’t come down from your high.

_________

You woke up in an unfamiliar location, dark red walls and black sheets were unlike your pastel blue walls and baby pink sheets. You panicked, until memories of your earlier actions came back to you. You weren't completely calm though, you were sure you definitely passed your curfew and Kuroo was nowhere to be found.

“Kuroo! I need to get home like— now!”

He entered the room and laughed. “Oh calm down you big baby, I called your folks and said you’d passed out cause you were so tired. Took some convincing, but they’re fine with you spending the night here.”

You sighed, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. “Oh, thank god.”

“Speaking of,” He came closer to you. “You down for round two?”

You felt warmth flood your face and threw a pillow at him. “You pervert!”

“How am I the pervert when you're the one naked in my bed?”

He was right, you did feel a cold breeze brush against your cold body as you pulled the covers up.

“Well then where are my clothes?”

He winced, itching the back of his neck. “Ya’ see...your skirt is still ripped, but I put your underwear and skirt in the wash. You could wear something of mine though!"

#haikyuu!!#haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyu x reader smut #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo x reader smut #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo tetsuro smut #x reader smut #tw.noncon #tw.cnc #tw.spit #tw.religious imagery #tw.dumbification #tw.degradation

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gayfrenchtoast · 3 years

Text

Despite sleep juice brain still go brr so

Harry Potter if Lily and James DIDNT DIE

A fan theory ramble

Also fuck JK Rowling

Okay so Harry Potter would be taught about the order and the dangers of the wizarding world early on due to James and Lily's positions and James probably being all hug ho about Harry not being afraid of Voldemort especially after that faithful night they almost died to him but didn't because Sirius was watching over their house that night and came to save them. They found out Wormtail was the traitor and sent him scampering and took max precautions after that.

Harry is more arrogant in this version because "my parents are great wizards and my parents and Godfather fought Voldemort and sent him packing" however big bad V did manage to land a hit on him that gave him his scar, unknown if this makes him a haucrux yet. So yeah he's arrogant and he's super confident he's gonna go to hogarth and be an awesome gryffindoor

Lily made Snape and James "make up like adults" and be civil for her and Harry's sakes. They shit talk each other behind their backs and though this in first year made Harry dislike Snape especially since James would shit talk about Snape to Harry and Harry would then overhear Snape shit talking his dad as he got older he just came to accept it and listen to it for the petty drama, ever got Snape to shit talk his dad to him and so they'd just vent at him about each other and no it isn't healthy but damn is it funny to Harry.

Harry does meet Ron and Hermione on the train for the first time, makes friends with Ron by buying some of the sweets from the trolley, with the money James slipped to him before he got on, for them to share. Kinda teases Hermione first time they meet by opening the chocolate frog to her when she asks about the toad ("are you sure it's not a frog? Cus I found THIS" he opens the box in a flash and the chocate frog makes a leap, right towards Hermione. She let's out a high help and leaps back in surprise only for Harry to catch it before it can even get that close to her. Both he and Ron laugh at her reaction as the girl flushes red with rage and embaressment, beginning to turn to presumably storm off. "Wait wait! I'm sorry, I was just joking! Here, you can have it. I only really want the card anyway." He grins as he offers the chocolate frog that was mostly reverting into mainly chocolate form. She looked hesitant but did carefully take the token of good faith, inspecting it a little just to be sure. "...fine. I accept your apology. I shall continue to look for the toad. And by the way, we'll be arriving soon. You might want to get changed into your robes." And she trots off, seemingly satisfied with whatever good job she did.)

Malfoy, who's heard about the boy who's family sent the dark Lord to the shadows, I quick to try and belittle Harry and then try and make it sound like he could "redeem his family name" by becoming friends with him. Harry basically laughs and says he knows of malphoy and his family and he's proud his family was the ones that fought Voldemort instead of the ones who bent over for him. Draco is stunned and pretty pissed.

Sorting hat Ceremony makes it real interesting. Ron gets in Gryffindoor, as expected, however Hermione is in Ravenclaw, Nevil is in Hufflepuff and Harry Potter is in Slytherin. With Draco Malfoy. Who he just insulted.

Harry is devastated to be in Slytherin. He deadass argues with the hat but is forced to concede and go sit and just accept that he's a Slytherin. Ron is conflicted that his new friend who's family fought Voldemort is in slytherin and Draco appears to have the same problem. Despite now being in the same house a rivalry forms between them which is only enhanced by them bunking in the same room.

Harry writes home about this and both James and Lily assure him it's okay he's in Slytherin, Lily tells him that Snape was a Slytherin and Snape is their friend and James reminds him that Slytherin does not mean evil and Gryffindoor does not mean good, wormtail was a Gryffindoor and he turned them over to the dark Lord. This does make him feel a bit better.

Harry manages to maintain his friendship with Ron despite their houses, it's weird at first but they quickly break down that barrier and become great friends, goofing around, becoming friends with the Groundskeeper, which helps them become friends with Hermione.

They make friends with Nevil by saving his rememberall when draco throws it. Nevil helps them with herbology homework from then on. Minera advises Snape to get Harry to be seeker for Slytherin Quiditch after she sees what he does and Harry, who still sees Slytherin as kinda the enemy despite being in it, hesitantly agrees. Slytherin Quiditch is allot less friendly that Gryffindoor, the team is allot colder to him at first, however once he proves himself he finds he loves the sport more than he cares about what team or house he's in and his team warm up to him and actually turn out to not be as scary and mean as he thought. They're still kinda arrogant assholes but Harry is too so he dosent have room to judge

Deadass I do not care about the Philosipers stone shit, people don't think Harry is some kind of chosen one, he and his family survived voldemort and are kinda celebrities for that but because there no tragedy within a year of the event there are rumours its a hoax and eventually the potters surviving the dark Lord becomes a roumour itself so people aren't trying to actively sabotage him. And since he don't think Snape is a stranger out to get him (litterally confronts him about his sus and Snape is like "nah fam I may not like hour dad but you're like my godson I'm not gonna try and kill you in the middle of a quiditch match on a broom" and Harry is like "oh...okay nvm but if you're lying I'm telling my mum" and when he dosent flinch he knows he's telling the truth) and so they quickly figure it was Quirrel. When Hermione puts sus on him Harry decides to be very Slytherin when they confront him in the bathroom and tries to wingardium leviosa him into the air, only getting his turban and showing off his voldemort face. In front of like three other teachers. Fight ensues, day saved, stone safe.

They do find the mirror while goofing off one night and Harry sees himself as a Gryffindoor with his parents proud. He dosent visit the mirror again

Harry gets the invisibility cloak from James that year for Christmas with the strict instructions that he will not tell anyone except those he trusts of its existence.

Draco, probably in second year again, ends up calling Hermione a mud blood at some point ("Potter! You're making our house look bad hanging out with that mud blood!) Harry immidately starts yelling at Draco for that and it quickly escalates to them fist fighting. Sape ends up being the one to discipline them, actually telling Draco off for using such a phrase but still punishing Harry for starting Violence. This is what ends up with them being punished by being sent into the woods with Hagrid. They somehow end up bodmung on tbsi trip, Harry asking why Draco would do that and Draco launching into a tirade about how "father says it and father is always right! He'd beat me if I was friends with a mud blood why should you get to do this and that id get punished for this and that father this father that-" you get the picture. Harry just lets him rant until he's done and then is like "wow your dad is a dick" and drack tries to.deny but Harry just goes through all the shitty stuff draco just told him his father did and draco is just like "...you won't tell my father we talked about this will you" "look mate, I dont ever wanna even meet your father and if I did meet him I would have a bunch of other shit to say to him and a few gestures." And so Harry managed to convince Draco his dad is the dick he is and begins on a mission to get him to see that and be better than him.

Harry goes home for Christmas but always sends his friends gifts. In second year before they depart on the train he gives Draco something before they part ways. He knows a gift would probably be suspicious from him arriving at Malfoy Manor so he gives to to Draco with instructions to only open it at christmas. On christmas day, when he gets some alone time, Draco opens the gift. It's a metal bangle of a Snake that when he rubs it and says a set word it becomes a warm light in the darkness. Draco only says uts acceptable when they meet in the new year bug Harry sees him wearing it and catches him using it at night.

Sometimes Harry has nightmares about the night Voldemort tried to kill his family and of the dark Lord himself. Draco has nightmares of his father and death eaters. When they wake the other up from the nightmares they sit ul and talk about them, abiut random thing or just make teasing jabs at each other until they're comfortable to sleep again

Draco gives up the information they need about the chamber when asked so no need for polyjuice, apologises to Hermione on their way out from the Slytherin dorm room, visits her and brings her and apology chocolate frog for when she is cured (the boys told him they were her favorite) and follows Ron and Harry to the chamber, demanding he be a part in the adventure. Its the Basilisk and Tom Riddle that terrify Draco and seals the deal on his conversion over to the "oppose the dark Lord" side

Draco sets Dobby free

Let's get some Potter family back in here for the hell of it. Sirius has been in love with Remus for yeaaars. Lily knows and is his emotional support. James is oblivious. Remus is with Tonks for a few years but talks to James about his doubts. James is all "naah man Tonks is great! I understand you don't think yihre worthy of a great girl but you are man! Belive in yourself!" And so Remus sticks with it. By Harry's third year there are rumours in the order of Wormtail being about, Remus becomes Hogwart's defence against the dark arts teacher and Sirius is a wreck with Harry and Remus in the frey but him stuck on the sidelines, even Tonks is confused and kinda annoyed with his fretting causing him to confess to her that he lives her boyfriend. She's surprisingly chill and is like "deadass I've been waiting for years for him to break up with me and get with you you two are so stupid" and so Sirius runs off in doggy disguise to confess to moony and arrives in time to help save the day

Draco slowly intergrates into the friend group, Ron bringing some of his friends (Dean and Sean) in a bit and Draco trying to bring some of his friends (Crab Goil and Blaze) but they're mostly hesitant (except from Blaize who wants help on his Herbology from the smart awkward Hufflepuff)

Draco pretends not to be worried about the dementors and Harry's fear of them but he always has his eye on them whenever he sees one.

The demontors were sent out to look for Peter Pettigrew.

Harry shares the maunders map with Draco when he finds it. Harry recognises whk the maunders are as soon as he sees it but doesn't tell Fred and George. However when they see Peters name they rush to Remus. Remus is in a bit of a tiz by this and tells them to follow him with the invisibility cloak as they go look for him. They never find him that night and he ends up dissapearing off the map but Remus still confiscated the map for the night and tells them to keep an eye out for anything suspicious, including rats. They're confused but promise to be careful.

Draco doesn't try and get buckbeak executed this time, he deadass is working with Harry to gain the hypogriff's trust and some slytherins that are pussdd they're being all friendly with other houses set off a loud spell that spooks buckhead and draco shoves Harry out of the way before he can get hurt and takes the brunt. None knows how word got to Lucius, it causes an argument in the group especially when Drsco is too afraid to stand up to his father but Harry stands up to him as he knows why Daco is afraid and they work out a plan to free buckbeak instead.

The plan ends up co-inciding with the day Sirius breaks into hogwarts. The dementors know there's an intruder but can't find him so are more active that usual, Sirius doesn't get tome to confess because as soon as he arrives Remus is all work mode and fills him in on the map and all and needs Sirius' nose to sniff him out. The kids plan of rescue is interupted because of this and most continues as normal with Harry furious at Peter not Sirius when he's revealed for trying to get his family killed and Draco tagging along. Snape busting in let's Peter escape unfortunately and then full moon and dementors happen. They manage to rescue buckbeak and themselves with time Turner magic and all is good.

After the full moon is done sirius sniffs out Moony and crades him in his arms until he wakes up, its there in the sunrise he tearfully tells him he loves him and with a clear mind Remus tells him he loves him too.

Draco ends up actually getting into an argument with his dad about trying to get buckbeak killed when he gets home which starts Draco's proper rebellious streak with also means an increase of strictness from Lucius. Draco and Harry send secret messages back and forth.

Thats all for now but I have ideas for the rest of the stories I will ramble about later!

#harry potter #harry potter rambles #hp #draco malfoy #fuck jk rowling jyst to be clear #i am re-wroting harry potter #i wrote harry potter now #me and miku

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ambrosiaicecreem · 3 years

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93 fun OC asks because why not (PT 1/2)

i’m splitting this up cus its a LOT, but it’s gonna be all 93 LMAO. courtesy of @lazysunjade. this one’s for YOU!

BASICS:

1. What is their gender?

Cis Male

2. What is their sexuality?

Bisexual

3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?

Silas means “the youngest”.. which is ironic really since he’s the oldest. He doesn’t really have many nicknames. He’s either just referred to by his first name or last name.

4. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger? Which sibling are they the closest with?

Silas only has one sibling: Marcus. Silas is older than Marcus by about 4 years, but despite the age difference they are incredibly close with each other. Marcus is Silas’ best friend, without a doubt about it.

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

Silas was incredibly close with both of his parents while they were both still alive. His only other known relatives were his maternal grandparents, and he also had a positive relationship with them before they died. He had no other living known relatives.

6. What would they give their life for?

His family. No hesitation. Whether its for his brother or his kids, if he had to make the decision to sacrifice himself for their safety, he would do it.

7. Are they in a romantic relationship? With who? How did they meet?

Silas is/was(?) in a relationship with Miss Camellia Pineda. It’s a bit complicated at this point in time but you can reread how they met here!

8. What do they believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

Part of him still believes in the old Greek myths of departing to the Underworld. But another part of him believes that nothing will really happen, considering he already had his second chance to experience something out of death and all as a vampire. It’s unsettling to him, to say the least.

9. What is their favorite color? Favorite animal?

He really likes deep shades of red. His favorite animal has always been the Black-Winged Kite, a small bird of prey that’s native to Greece.

10. What are some of their talents/skills?

Silas is a master of the arts. Throughout his whole existence, he’s studied multiple art forms, but the one’s he’s perfected are painting and sculpture. Besides that, he’s very proficient with hand-to-hand combat, specifically Pankration which is the Greek form of martial arts. He has an almost perfect memory, which comes from his special talent of being able to project his memories.

11. If they could make a mark on history, what would they like it to be?

He honestly really wouldn’t want to change much, but maybe he’d like to be credited for a certain famous sculpture that he made that doesn’t have a “known artist”.

12. How old are they? When is their birthday?

Silas is 2,346 years old and his birthday is March 20th.

13. What do they do for fun?

Silas likes to create art, whether its painting or sculpting something. He also really likes to read history books. He was asleep for a good portion of it, so he likes to read up on what he missed.

14. What is their favorite food? How often do they get to eat it?

Silas is honestly really simple when it comes to human food. He likes freshly made loaves of bread. He doesn’t eat it often, simply because of how specific he likes it. Its more of a special treat whenever he’s in the mood to make it himself.

15. What was something their parents taught them?

Silas learned how to tie simple sailors knots from his father at a young age, meanwhile he learned how to bake bread from his mother.

16. Are they religious?

In a way, he is still. He does believe in the Greek pantheon to an extent. With his rebirth as a vampire, he isn’t 100% sure anymore, but he tries not to think too hard on it at times. When it comes to practicing his religion, he makes offerings to the gods with every new season that comes.

17. Where were they born?

Athens, Greece

18. What languages can they speak? Where did they learn these languages?

Silas can fluently speak Greek, English, Spanish, and Italian. He learned Greek from his human life. When he woke up from his hibernation, he learned English, Spanish, and Italian over a span of 100 years from traveling and attending university.

19. What is their occupation?

Technically, he has none. He doesn’t necessarily need to work, but he does take freelance art jobs from the city whenever they’d like something from him.

20. Do they have any titles? How did they earn them?

No titles.. yet.

PERSONALITY:

21. What is their favorite thing about their personality?

He likes how patient he can be. His patience has been a gift, really, in moments of high stress and it really could have drastically changed things if he didn’t have it.

22. What is their least favorite thing about their personality?

He’s got the good ol “Montolvo Hot-Head” trait. It takes a lot to get him genuinely angry, but when he gets mad.. he gets MAD. He’s almost blind to it and reacts entirely all on emotions, as seen when he punishes all three of his kids for something only one of them did.

23. Do they get lonely easily?

I’d say he does. Especially with how attached he’s gotten to Camellia in such a short amount of time.

24. Do you know their MBTI type?

I think Silas would be ISFJ: the Defender. Protective, warm, and caring.

25. What is their biggest flaw? & 26. Are they aware of their flaws?

He’s too forgiving, almost to the point of being a total pushover. He’s taken a lot of shit, specifically just from his ex-wife Serafina, but he still gave her the courtesy of explaining herself to their kids instead of just telling them himself. In hindsight, he shouldn’t be giving so many chances to people who’ve only proven to continuously fuck him over. He is WELL AWARE of his flaws, and he’s taken responsibility for them.

27. What is their biggest strength? & 28. Are they aware of their strengths?

His sense of loyalty. Whether its to his family or someone who he’d consider as family, if he’s needed, he’ll be there. He’s aware of it, but he tries to humble himself and doesn’t really focus his attention on it that much. He’d much rather focus on improving his flaws.

29. How would they describe their own personality?

“Loyal, Protective... and boring.”

30. When frightened, will they resort to “fight” or “flight”?

It’s sorta a case by case thing, but he’s more flight than fight simply because of how strict vampire rules are in New Brando.

31. Does this character ever put somebody else’s needs before their own? Who do they do this for? How often do they do this?

uh, ALWAYS. He ALWAYS does this. He’s always putting other people before himself. He does it ESPECIALLY with his family and Camellia now.

32. What is their self esteem like?

He’s got a pretty average level self esteem. He doesn’t necessarily consider himself all that good-looking or interesting. He’s only recently gotten a confidence boost ever since he started dating Camellia.

33. What is their biggest fear? How would they react to having to face it?

His biggest fear is losing his kids. If he even loses ONE of them, he won’t be able to handle it. His guilt would consume him, and honestly, he’d probably just lose himself in order to be with them again.

34. How easily do they trust others with their secrets? With their lives?

Silas doesn’t really trust others with his secrets all that much. I mean look how long it took just for him to reveal the truth about the divorce. He’s the same way with his life. He only trusts a select few with that as well.

35. What is the easiest way to annoy them?

Just by being overly obnoxious and in his personal space.

36. What is their sense of humor like? Give an example of a joke they would find humorous.

“Dad, did you get a haircut?” “No, I got them all cut!” He’s a dad. Dad humor is in his blood at this point.

37. How easy is it for them to say “I love you”? Do they say it without meaning it?

Silas will only say “I love you” to someone that ISN’T his family if he GENUINELY means it. If he doesn’t feel it from the instant spark, then odds are he’s not going to ever really come to say it.

38. What do others admire most about their personality?

He wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s extremely open to others and caring and protective.

39. What does their happily ever after look like?

Well I can’t just spoil that. It’s gonna be the ending!

40. Who do they trust most? Is that trust mutual?

Marcus, Angelina, and Camellia. That trust is all mutual.

PHYSICAL PROFILE:

41. What does their laugh sound like? Do they snort when they laugh? How often do they laugh?

Silas has this kind of hearty laugh. Its very warm and inviting. He’s been laughing a lot more lately with Camellia being a sort of light in his life.

42 & 43. What is their favorite & least favorite thing about their physical appearance?

He likes his hair. He thinks its the most interesting thing about himself, physically. He doesn’t really have a least favorite thing about his appearance? He just considers himself to be really average for the most part.

44. Do they have any scars? If so, what are the stories behind those scars?

He does not have any real noticeable scars.

45. How would they describe their own appearance?

“Tall, a bit on the skinnier side, and boring clothes.”

46. How easily can they express emotions? How easily can they hide emotions?

He tends to wear his emotions on his face really easily. He knows how to hide them though, but he chooses not to.

#sims 4 #ts4 #aic: the montolvos extras #silas montolvo #answered asks

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moeruhoshi · 5 years

Text

I haven’t written the end of this yet bc idk which way I want to go but yeah tell me what you think so far

She loved him so much, but couldn’t remember his face anymore. What could this painful feeling be classified as? She had everyone she’d ever known, her father, her friends, the face of her mother was well imprinted into her memory. And of course, she saw it every morning when she looked in the mirror.

But he…who was he?

An ex-boyfriend? He couldn’t be, she knew all of them, unfortunately. And was reminded of them at least once a year when they tried attempting to rekindle their old sparks, but the flames of her heart had gone out for each and every one of them.

Maybe an old friend? No, she knew all of them too, and their group had always been closer than ever. It was only so often that a group of friends were so lucky to graduate all three prep schools together before deciding on and getting into the same college. Graduating together was another amazing feat. They all worked relatively near each other and felt no real need to leave their amazingly huge town, even meeting up every week to have dinner and go out together.

Her life, in other words, was beyond perfect. She was a teacher and used her summers to work on her novels, one already published and stamped with a best-sellers award.

Nothing was wrong, how could it be? She had everything she ever wanted, plus her father had no say in the way she lived anymore.

So why did she feel so painfully empty? When she looked at Erza and her husband, Jellal, she wasn’t jealous, but longed for a love just as beautiful. The same went for Juvia and Gray, not forgetting to mention Gajeel and Levy. Even Cana had Bacchus and their more than twisted relationship, but really, she wasn’t jealous of the love that surrounded her.

A childhood friend to fall in love with, that would’ve been nice.

Maybe she wasn’t the best at choosing guys to date…Loke, Dan, and Sting…they’d all lasted quite long, but they weren’t him. Whoever he was.

And he…well he knew who she was. The love of his life, how could anyone forget their first love?

She was beautiful, with hair that shone like the sun, a smile sweeter than candy, and whenever she said his name, fuck. He was done for the day he set his eyes on her. Preschool was a wild time.

He was fortunate enough to grow up with his first love, to see her go from being an idiot and then a weirdo, the prettiest weirdo.

She was too good for anyone, even him. So he refused to be anything more than her best friend. And when he knew he couldn’t be forever, after the night they finally shared their first kiss…

Oh wow, what a kiss. Her lips were softer than marshmallows, and her body in his hold felt smaller than ever. She moaned softly against him and tied her hands around his neck, fingers softly curled in his hair. The hazy-eyed look she gave him after they parted; he’d give anything to see that again. But as she whispered her confession of love to him as the two stood in front of her door that night, he had to say goodbye.

He manipulated himself out of everyone’s memory and forced her to think she just hadn’t met the right guy yet. He knew she would, she was amazing, it wouldn’t be long before she was taken.

There was no way he was going to let her be dragged down by his being; demons…they never did deserve a happy ending.

No matter how much leaving her side killed him, an angel such as she couldn’t be poisoned by his darkness.

Lucy wasn’t tired, but she woke up feeling tired; when didn’t she? Coffee didn’t remedy the lagging feeling that weighed her down, but surely she hadn’t always felt this way. Something felt like it was missing, a part of her day that would just get her blood racing and smile spreading, a feeling that instantly reared her to take on the day.

She would lean against her counter and sip from her mug, staring blankly at her empty kitchen island. A faint scent of breakfast wafted under her nose as if trying to coax a memory.

Mornings filled with cooking and light baking, food spread across every inch of the counter space. She faced the stove and fiddled with something in a pan, smiling as warm arms found their way around her midsection.

“Smells good, Luc...”

The blonde snapped from her distant thoughts, lifting a brow as she wondered to herself what she had just been thinking about.

Shrugging off the forgotten thought, Lucy continued with her day and went back into her room to get dressed for work.

The days where Lucy didn’t have any plans after work, time seemed to go by slower than it usually did. This was another thing about her life that consistently followed her around, as she had nothing much to look forward to after the workday. Even when she was dating Sting and he’d be waiting in the lobby for when she came out of the elevator...the elation of knowing the two had plans together never able to make her unbearably giddy.

She was an author who wrote about love. It wasn’t uncommon for a young female author to be popular for their detailed description of two lost souls finding one another amid various dramatic occasions.

Her most famous book, The Adventures of Iris, told tale of a girl and her best friend traveling the mythical world of Edolas. They fought monsters, villains, and whoever decided to get in their way. It was a classic adventure story where everyone was zoned in on the love between her main characters. Their friendship was sweet and loving, the two went over and beyond to take care of one another. And when they finally confessed with a kiss...millions of readers felt they could die happily.

It was a love that mimicked the love around her; strong, hot, and warm; the love Lucy so desperately wanted. Sting, as kind as he was, could not give her the love she unconsciously searched for.

Her apartment building wasn’t far from her office, making it a simple enough walk to take alone when the workday had finally finished. The streets were always relatively empty, the sound of the cars on the road beside her honking and filling the air as after-work traffic picked up.

Jamming her key into her door, Lucy’s mind wandered again, fooling her into a sense of excitement that pretended to bubble in her stomach. The smell of the food coming from her kitchen wasn’t real, nor was the faint image of a smile...a smile? And not one she could place with the face of anyone she knew.

Just as quickly as the thought flashed before her, her mind was equally quick to move on, reminding her to continue the usual routine she performed before bed.

Dinner was lonely and quiet, her eyes staring through the ghost across the table. The local news filled the silence and drowned out the distant laughs of the past that unknowingly followed her around.

Once the lights were out and she laid alone in bed, Lucy said a goodnight for her mother up in the heavens and another for the friends she had hidden in the stars.

Another strange sensation would make its appearance at some point before she fell asleep. A kiss to her forehead, warm arms securing their position around her waist, and the nuzzle of someone’s nose against the nape of her neck. She couldn’t help but tear up, reaching for a pillow to hold close to her chest as she shut her eyes tight. A rush of endorphins would slide through her, the want to look up into the eyes of the one she truly loved her most demanding feeling.

“Goodnight, N…” Sleep would overtake her form before the name of her cursed mentality could surface.

Morning would come, and again Lucy’s life continued bleakly, lacking the excitement and warmth she was unable to source.

Today was Saturday, and every Saturday, Lucy would get dressed despite not having any plans and take a walk around the city.

She took the same route; going from her house to a breakfast nook two blocks away, then to the farmers market where she would pick up ingredients for a light picnic to have alone underneath the rainbow sakura in the park.

It was a relaxing ritual that Lucy very much enjoyed. Sitting underneath the trees even if they weren’t in bloom always had a way of taking the stress from her overworked body.

She would read with her back pressed against the wide berth of a tree, her hand stroking the air in her lap. Not that she ever noticed, being too focused on the book she was reading. The light touch of someone’s nose against her stomach went unnoticed, arms that held her waist dearly disappearing in the slow blow of the wind.

Lucy stood up to begin her walk home just as the sun was setting, stifling a shriek when she felt something warm and fuzzy against her ankle.

“A cat? Oh goodness, you really scared me, little one!” Lucy let out the breath she had unknowingly held in, smiling down at the blue cat that looked up at her. “Blue? Did you get into some paint...Happy?”

The blonde had knelt down to pet the suspiciously friendly feline, reading the name on his tag that thankfully listed his home address.

“Hargeon? How’d you make it all the way to Magnolia?” She giggled and picked Happy up, unable to hide her smile as the kitten instinctively cozied up to her chest. “I guess I’ll make the trip to take you home tomorrow, I’m glad they won’t need me working on Monday so I can do some sightseeing too! Do you think you’ll be able to show me around town for a bit?”

Lucy laughed as the cat meowed in response, their conversation continuing as she walked them home.

She never thought of herself as a cat person but this cat, in particular, made her want to do nothing but open her heart, to explain her hopes and her dreams, that she was weirdly close to a cat she’d just met and was afraid of how far the depths of her loneliness reached.

As the moon rose above them and the two laid in bed, Happy watched as Lucy fell asleep, caught up in the fatal memories that haunted her every night. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he watched his adoptive parent suffer so greatly with the absence of her greatest love.

He pawed away the trail of tears left on her face as she slept, cursing his idiot owner for leaving her all alone like this.

#nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #natsu and lucy #lucy and natsu #natsu x lucy #lucy x natsu #nalu fanfiction #nalu angst #fairy tail #fairy tail nalu

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cabaretcal · 5 years

Text

can we be seventeen?

It is finally time. Broadway!Michael. Heathers. Best friends to lovers. U know how we do. sorry I’m on mobile and can’t do the read more feature 😔

4k words

—

High School was the time of your life. You spent everyday after school with your best friend in the theatre. You two had many starring roles together, such as Tracy and Link in Hairspray, Sally Bowles and Cliff Bradshaw from Cabaret, and so many more. You two decided you both wanted to take on broadway. That being said, you bought an apartment together- a tiny one that is- in New York City. It was your 2nd month in New York. You loved it more than anything, but you were a starving artist. You had a few commercial roles and did some work in some short films, but you wanted to be on stage. You wanted people applauding you every night. You both wanted that.

But it’s hard to get on broadway. Broadway isn’t something easy to achieve.

The door to your apartment opened and interrupted your thoughts.

“Y/N! The restaurant was super busy today, so I think I got enough tip money to get the WiFi back on.” Michael walked through the door, car keys in hand, wearing a white button shirt with a black tie, along with black dress pants. Michael worked at a fancy Italian restaurant in the heart of New York City that only rich people can afford. He absolutely hated working there. It was far from his dream, but they had to pay the bills somehow. You worked at a coffee house yourself, and most of the time your money went towards bills and necessities only. And people hardly ever tip.

“Thank God! I’ve missed Netflix so much.” He laughed and you grinned, collapsing beside him on the couch. Michael was a great roommate. He always paid his share of everything, and he kept the living area clean. His room is another story, but at least you didn’t have to always see his room.

“I found our next audition! I forgot to tell you, when I was driving to work I saw that Heathers is currently being casted for broadway!”

You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, “I’m beginning to think we should’ve stayed home, it’s so hard to make it out here in New York…”

He scoffed, looking at you in your eyes, “Is my best friend, Y/N L/N, the one who forced me to audition for Oklahoma our freshman year, giving up? Come on now, that’s not the Y/N I know! Come on, auditions are tomorrow morning, it’s worth a shot.”

You pondered for a moment, thinking of the possibilities. This is what you came to New York for, after all. Maybe it was worth a shot.

“Fine, we’ll go. Just don’t get your hopes up…”

“I won’t, I promise. Now… I assume we’re having ramen again?”

“You know it.”

—

You sat beside Michael and looked around at who was at the audition. You could already tell that type casting would come into play, which made you nervous. You weren’t sure if you fit into any of these roles. What if you were wasting your time? You’d be lucky if you got to be a chorus member. Michael looked up from the paperwork as if he could sense how nervous you were.

“Relax, Y/N. You’ve been this way since High School! I remember auditions for Hairspray; you nearly had a panic attack the day of callbacks. And you rocked it! What are you scared of?”

“Failure, Michael.” You frowned and looked at him. He sighed, looking into your eyes.

“My best friend has never been a failure. Don’t even begin to think you’re a failure! Every good actor and actress struggled before succeeding.” He gave you a reassuring smile, and weight lifted off of your shoulders. Maybe he was right. In fact, he was right. You have to fall before you fly sometimes.

“Thank you, Michael.” You smiled as he smiled back at you. You wouldn’t wanna be struggling with anyone else.

A woman who seemed to be the director interrupted your thoughts, “Good morning everyone, welcome to the audition for Heathers. Shall we begin?” Everyone silently nodded, and the director cleared her throat, “the numbers my assistant gave to you when you walked in will now come into play… let’s start with #1. Come on up.”

You froze. You were #1. No pressure, right? You got up from your seat and walked up onto the stage, ready to perform the provided audition material. All of the girls were using audition material for the part of Veronica, the lead female part. No pressure.

You introduced yourself briefly and began, projecting with purpose, “My parents wanted to move me into high school out of the sixth grade, but we decided to chuck the idea because I’d have trouble making friends, blah, blah, blah. Now blah, blah, blah is all I ever do. I use my grand IQ to decide what color lip gloss to wear in the morning and how to hit three keggers before curfew… Betty Finn was a true friend and I sold her out for a bunch of Swatch dogs and Diet Coke heads. Killing Heather would be like offing the wicked witch of the west… wait east. West! God! I sound like a fucking psycho….Dear Diary: Heather told me she teaches people “real life.” She said, real life sucks losers dry. You want to fuck with the eagles, you have to learn to fly. I said, so, you teach people how to spread their wings and fly? She said, yes. I said, you’re beautiful.”

You emphasized certain things and changed tone when you felt it was needed. You wanted this so bad. But this wasn’t it! This was a musical, so you had to sing. You looked at the music provided for you and cued the piano player to begin playing. The song you were told to sing was “Fight For Me”. You sang each note with purpose. You wanted this more than anything. Before you knew it, you were done with your audition, and you sat back down in the audience beside Michael. He mouthed ‘good job’ to you, smiling. Before he knew it, it was his turn to audition.

The men auditioning read material for JD, the leading male part. You looked over what Michael had to perform, and the monologue was quite intense.

He cleared his throat and began with an intense tone of voice, “Can't believe you did it! I was teasing. I loved you! Sure, I was coming up here to kill you... First I was gonna try and get you back with my amazing petition. It's a shame you can't see what our fellow students really signed. Listen ‘We, students at Westerburg High will die. Today. Our buring bodies will be the ultimate protest to a society that degrades us. Fuck you all!’ It's not very subtle, but neither is blowing up a whole school, now is it? Talk about your suicide pacts, eh? When our school blows up tomorrow, it's gonna be the kind of thing that affects a whole generation! It'll be the Woodstock for the 80's! Damn it Veronica! We could have roasted marshmallows together!”

He was so talented. You would be damned if he didn’t get a role in this production. He then finished out his audition with the song “Meant To Be Yours”. He did amazing. He always put his all into his auditions. You were proud to be his friend. He walked off stage after he finished, and you both left.

—

As each day passed you absolutely could not stop thinking about callbacks. You were so anxious about whether you were gonna get one or not. You at least hoped Michael would get one so he could live out his dream if you couldn’t.

With each latte you made at work all that was on your mind was the possibility of getting a callback. At one point, you couldn’t even remember how to make an iced americano. They said they’d call you no matter what to let you know, which made you even more anxious. And everyday Michael came home from work all he talked about was callbacks and how bad he wanted this opportunity.

“I know you’ll make it, Michael. I mean come on, you’re extremely talented and you knocked that audition out of the park!”

“I did mediocre at best! You’re the one who’s gonna make it. You’re gonna be amazing in that cast. I’d rather you get it than me.”

You laid your head on his shoulder, looking up into his eyes, “You mean that, Mikey?”

“Would I lie to you? No. I wouldn’t. You’re amazing.”

—

You ran into Michael’s room after your shift at the coffee shop, shaking him awake, “I just got a callback during my shift! I get another audition tomorrow!”

“I got one too! While you were gone! We got callbacks!”

You two jumped up onto Michael’s bed and jumped in celebration. You were unbelievably happy.

“Well you know what that means… it’s a special occasion!” Michael ran to the kitchen and you followed behind him. He pulled out the boxed wine from the cabinet and got the plastic wine glasses out too.

The boxed wine was a tradition in your friendship. When you were casted in Hairspray sophomore year, he got his older friend to get it for him. It was cheap and lasted a while, so it was his number one choice. After high school graduation he brought it to your house after your grad party. And when you moved into the apartment, you had Dominos and boxed wine. It had a special place in your heart.

You put some wine in your cup and clinked your glass with his. Maybe it was finally time.

“Now let’s get wine drunk at 2 in the afternoon, shall we?” He smirked at you and you couldn’t help but laugh, knowing damn well he was a lightweight. It was gonna be a long day. Michael got up and connected his phone to the Bluetooth speaker, playing one of his playlists and taking your free hand in his.

“Michael what the hell are you doing?”

“Dancing! Duh!” He downed his wine glass and spun you around, laughing loudly.

You shook your head, putting down your glass and joining him, despite your lack of dance ability.

“You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only… how old are we again? Who knows!” Michael was so carefree, and seeing him have no care in the world always warmed your heart.

“Hey Michael?”

“Yeah Y/N?”

“I knew I moved to New York with the right person.

—

You and Michael woke up extremely early the next morning for callbacks. The callback went well in your opinion, and Michael seemed to feel good about his as well. But after your callback it was back to the minimum wage job with less than mediocre tips. You had to wait a whole week until you’d find out if the callback resulted in you getting a role. It was gonna be the longest week of your life. As everyday passed and you made countless lattes and iced coffees all you thought of was your callback. It invaded your mind at every second of the day. No callback had stressed you out as much as this one. This one wasn’t some high school production from back home. This could be your big break for crying out loud! This was the most stress you had ever felt in your life.

When the day finally came around you and Michael waited around the apartment with phone in hand all day. The phone call you two were about to get would decide your futures. You paced around the living room, unable to stand still. Finally, Michael’s phone was the first to ring. He immediately picked up, sitting on the couch while biting his nails nervously.

“Hello? Yes this is him… yes I would. Thanks so much… alright goodbye.” He hung up, a solemn look on his face. You felt like you already knew what he was gonna say.

He then broke out into a grin, hugging you, “You’re looking at broadways new Jason Dean!”

You smacked his chest, gasping, “how dare you worry me like that, Michael!” You laughed, returning his hug happily. Shortly after, your phone also rang.

You answered, with a shaky voice, “Hello? Yes this is she… okay, yes I would, okay… thank you, goodbye.”

You were shocked. You looked at Michael, eyes dilated and full of disbelief, “I got the part… I-I’m Veronica…”

“No way! I get to lead with my best friend? This is amazing! We did it!” He hugged you, lifting you off of the ground.

You felt larger than life. You finally got to live out your dream. You were absolutely thrilled.

—

The first rehearsal was mainly just line running and song singing without much blocking and a brief dance rehearsal. Broadway was quite a shell shock. Rehearsals were triple the length of high school rehearsals, and dances were taught by actual choreographers, not the schools dance team coach. It was extremely different. It worried you- what if you couldn’t handle it? As you read lines your mind was in a whirlwind, and Michael could tell.

The director told everyone to take a 15 minute break, and you immediately broke down into a rant of how stressed you were to Michael.

“What if I’m not good enough for this? I’ve gotten so many notes from the director on things to do differently and it’s only day 1! I just wanna be the best I can be, I’m not usually cast into this type of role! I’m never usually a cocky or sassy type of character, I’m not good enough for this-“

Michael interrupted you during your extremely long rant, “Y/N! You’re doing great, it’s literally the first day. Everyone’s getting a lot of notes. You are fine. You always get in your head in the first week of rehearsals. You’re so talented and you deserve this, just calm down. Come on, smell the flowers, blow out the candles. Smell the flowers, blow out the candles. You’ve got this! I wouldn’t wanna plot revenge with anybody else, Veronica.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly. He always knew what to say in these situations.

“You’re not the only one getting notes ya know? You always panic, it worries me.” You frowned, you never meant to worry him. It was just the way you were. You were always hypercritical of yourself, and it got worse as you got older. It wasn’t all your fault though.

“You know why, Michael. My parents never came to any of the shows… I fought to please them, thinking maybe they’d come one of the nights of the show. They never did. They ruined my self esteem.” At that point you were just venting, and you felt bad after the realization. You quickly stopped talking, walking back on stage keeping your eyes glued to the floor.

The director loudly interrupted your thoughts with a loud clap, “Okay everyone, we’re gonna do the number for Meant To Be Yours, so get on up here, Michael.”

Michael quickly got up on the stage, flipping through his script to the right page. You had a few lines before he started singing, so you took your place behind the “closet door”.

Michael cleared his throat, putting on his angsty evil teen voice, “Knock! Knock! Sorry for coming in through the window. Dreadful etiquette, I know!” This part seemed to be written just for him. He was so good at being the odd guy.

You got out of your thoughts, replying with your line to his remark through the closet door set piece, “Get out of my house!”

Michael scoffed, jiggling the door knob and continuing on with the scene, “Hiding in the closet? Come on, unlock the door! Come out and get dressed, you’re my date to the pep rally tonight!” He then began singing the song, yelling through the door at certain parts. You had to admit, it felt like he was actually your psychotic boyfriend. He really knew what he was doing.

You were interrupted by him singing/yelling the next part of the song, “Veronica! Open the—open the door, please Veronica, open the door…” he finished the song, letting out an exasperated breath.

“So, um, any notes? To make it better…”

The director had a look of shock on her face, but good shock though. She looked at her notepad, and then looked up, “This is an amazing start, you’re making great character decisions. I think when you sing through the door you could act more desperate for her to come out, maybe beat on the door, not just yell through it. Maybe we could give you a prop? Like a gun? We’ll see. Other than that, it’s really great. Good job.”

Michael nodded, thanking her and walking down the stairs of the stage.

“Alright, y/n! We’re gonna do the opening scene, the dear diary one. Do what you think is right and I’ll give notes, as per usual. Alright?”

You nodded, sitting at the plastic table that would soon be a lunch table once the actual set was set up.

You mimed a notebook in front of you, taking a deep breath, “September 1st, 1989. Dear Diary:

I believe I'm a good person. You know, I think that there's good in everyone, but—here we are! First day of senior year! And uh... I look around at these kids that I've known all my life and I ask myself—what happened?” This then transitioned to you singing Beautiful. You only got through half of the song due to how much blocking was needed for this number in particular.

The director read off of her notes, “Alright, Y/N, so all I really have is that I want you to be more confident. I gave you this part for a reason, I believe in you. Just breathe, okay?”

You nodded, thanking her and walking off stage. You grabbed your bag and left to the subway with Michael.

“I told you you were doing good! You just need to believe in yourself, ya dingus.” He ruffled your hair and you blushed, nodding slowly.

“Michael, I think you’re the most talented person I know.”

“Well then you obviously haven’t met yourself.”

—

After what felt like a billion rehearsals, which was really just 2 months of rehearsals, costume day finally came! The best and worst day. A lot of things can go wrong. But a lot of the time, costume day is great.

You had one costume for the whole show, which you were secretly grateful for. Quick changes just stressed you out. Your costume was a grey pleated skirt that hit your mid thigh, blue knee high socks, a white blouse, and a blue blazer to go over the blouse. The director wanted everyone to be used to performing in their costumes, so you’d be rehearsing with them for the next 2 weeks until opening night.

Michael wore all black attire. His costume included a black t shirt, a black trench coat, black jeans, and clunky black boots. In all honesty, he did not look approachable. But at the same time, he intrigued you even more. With each rehearsal, you were thinking about Michael a lot more than usual, and in a different way than usual.

Were you attracted to your best friend?

Oh god. This could not be happening.

You knew way too much about him. His mother practically adopted you as her own. It would be so awkward if your feelings shined through. Your mind was racing, everything made sense.

When he would cup your cheek in one of your scenes and would immediately blush, when he would call you nicknames in your scenes and you broke into a huge grin, it was because you liked him as more than a friend.

“Y/N! How do ya like my costume?” Michael did a twirl and bowed, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Wow what a handsome teen psychopath you are, Michael.” He laughed, muttering a thank you.

“Um, you look nice in yours. Much less psycho looking, 10 out of 10.”

You laughed, twirling to show him the whole costume, “Why thank you, JD. How kind of you.”

He smiled at you, looking in your eyes for a little while.

He quickly got out of his trance, looking around awkwardly, “Um, well, let’s take our promotional photos then shall we?”

You nodded, following him to where the photographer was.

“We’re definitely getting drunk tonight, I need a breather.”

—

You and Michael were in the living room, playing Mario Kart on the Nintendo Switch whole drinking, you guessed it, boxed wine. You were both extremely drunk, laughing at every little thing.

“Did you seriously just hit me with a blue shell!?”

Michael laughed, “Sorry! I can't accept losing to you, princess.” His voice had a tinge of sarcasm, which was far from surprising.

You pouted, desperately trying to get your number one spot back. But to your defeat, Michael took your spot at the last minute and got first place.

“How dare you!”

He laughed as you tackled him on the couch, resulting in a slight spill of both of your glasses as the coffee table shook.

“Sorry babe, I won fair and square.” His tone had a slight bit of flirtiness to it. Blushing at the nickname, you got up and got yourself more to drink.

“Alright, I lost, what do you want your prize to be? I buy your lunch tomorrow? It’s done.”

“I don’t need anything… let’s just chill now, yeah?”

You nodded, sitting beside him on the couch and laying your head on his shoulder.

“Y/N, you know I wouldn’t wanna be anyone else’s costar, right?”

“Michael, you tell me that everyday.”

“Well, it’s true. God, I’m tired of pretending,” he sat up, looking you straight in the eyes, “I came with you to New York not just to pursue acting. I came here because I care about you more than anything. You make everyday a little better. I was in such a bad place before we met freshman year. I literally love you so much.”

“Yeah I love you too-“

“No Y/N! I’m in love with you! When we do our scenes together I can’t help but think about us being together! I can’t help but imagine me affectionately cupping your cheek and kissing you outside of the show. I can’t help that I actually think I’m meant to be yours! And no, this is not the alcohol talking. I’ve always felt this way. I felt this way when we were in every other show together! I want to shout from the rooftops that I love you!” He gripped your waist and kissed you deeply, pulling you onto his waist.

His kiss was intoxicating. You didn’t know how bad you wanted this. You finally realized that he was who you wanted all along.

“You may be set out to kill the whole school so we can be together, but I love you too, Michael.”

—

Opening night you were warming up in your dressing room when a knock came at your door. The stage manager gave you your 20 minute warning, while also handing you a large arrangement of roses.

“Who are these from? No one I know is coming to see me tonight…” You looked at the notecard that came with it, and it all made sense.

My dearest Veronica,

I’m glad I get to share the stage with raw talent tonight. And you I guess (Just kidding). Break a leg, and let’s fake some deaths tonight! I love you.

- JD

You never felt more in love.

—

Taglist!!

@i-calumhood @angelbabylu

#5 seconds of summer #5sos #5 seconds of summer imagine #michael clifford x reader #5sos michael #michael clifford blurb #michael clifford fic #michael clifford #michael clifford one shot #broadway!sos #5sos one shot #5sos fanfic #5sos imagine

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rookisaknight · 5 years

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MBTI and the Seeds

Religious bullshit, meet personality bullshit. I took to 16personalities for a direction on this and was actually pretty convinced by the majority of the results (which is whack because 16personalities almost always gets at least one letter off), but I have an unfathomably large amount of information about this test stored in my grey matter so I’ll be hopping off a bit to fill in my own blanks. Also notable is the severe trauma each of the Seeds have been through

This is going under a cut because it's a long post and honestly might be more worthwhile as a reference for myself and how I write the Seeds, but I can’t be the only personality nerd in this fanbase.

Jacob Seed: ISTJ. The Logistician

I wasn’t sold on this one initially given that Jacob seems far more comfortable with out of control situations than most Js generally are, but I find the overall profile fits him better than ISTP. My explanation is that his time in the juvie, the military, and the foster system has forced a maturation of this particular function due to constantly feeling out of control, which makes him more open to adaptation than he would have been otherwise.

Strengths:

Honest and Direct: Notably Jacob is arguably the least manipulative Seed. He “tricks” you in a sense with the conditioning but that is more a strategic concealment than any deception. Unlike the other three, Jacob does not pretend that his actions come from any sense of love or divine calling. He is always straightforward with the deputy, even if that doesn’t restrain his cruelty.

Strong-willed and Dutiful: Basically see all of the Book of Joseph, as well as his “you think I care if I die” comments. I lump very responsible under this.

Calm and Practical: I don’t think I have to explain this part. Jacob never reacts from an explicitly emotional place. The “did you think you were free” is the closest to losing his temper I think we see from him. He has expectations, and failure to meet them will be punished. He doesn’t see a need to get emotional about it, preferring to detach himself

Create and Enforce Order: Well, culling the herd is an unconventional tactic, but...

Weaknesses:

Stubborn: As Joseph said, Jacob has been getting into it since he was a kid. Even with the brother, he’s willing to die for, he explicitly argues with him. And even in the face of his own death, he refuses to rescind his own philosophy, or even demonstrate any regret for the path he’s chosen.

Insensitive and Judgemental: Jacob’s a shithead no I will not elaborate

Always By the Book: an illegal paramilitary cult, yes, but one that holds to Jacob’s exacting standards.

Often Unreasonably Blames Themselves: Loath as I am to woobify Jacob at all, there’s a pathos to him. As Joseph says, he thinks of himself as a “weapon without a purpose. A soldier without a legacy”. As a child, he protected his siblings and as an adult, he views himself as little more than a meatshield. There’s a sense that he objectifies himself, reduces himself down to simply the function of violence and protection, and those high standards mean that he views death as simply another failure.

can bastard be a personality type

Joseph Seed: ISFP- The Observer

The test originally gave me INFP, but I find that unconvincing for two reasons. One, INFP’s are predominantly defined by an open-minded approach to life and to ideas, which doesn’t fit well with a guy so convinced he got religion right that he was willing to kidnap and murder people. Two, while Joseph is definitely contemplative and deals with the symbolic, his “visions” are not flights of fancy but are in some sense practical. He doesn’t really appear to engage in thought experiments, merely interpret sensory (or in this case extrasensory) information that he is presented with.

Strengths:

Charming: The man runs a successful church for a reason, and it can’t just be good cheekbones and dogwhistling

Sensitive to Others: Joseph has a keen insight into other people’s emotional state, which is what makes him so effective at manipulating them. He tends to meet people where they’re at with a certain deftness that would be impressive if he didn’t use it the way he did

Passionate: about the LORD. No, but I’ll give this to the man, he’s certainly got a vision, and sticks to it with intensity.

Curious: I think anyone working in the business of people has to have an inherently curious mind, and while Joseph may believe he has all the answers, his fascination with the Deputy to me indicates that he has an inherent draw to things that disrupt his world. I also think about how he would get in trouble as a child for seeking out forbidden material, such as Spiderman comics. those Satanic webs...

Weaknesses:

Fiercely Independent: He’s developed a supportive community now but Joseph has always marched to the beat of his own awful, awful drum, which has gotten him kicked out of at least one job and lost him at least one set of foster parents. He doesn’t seem to need people as much as he acquires them

Unpredictable: Sometimes with blood, sometimes with forgiveness, it's hard to say how Joseph will respond to disruption on any given day. Where the spirit leads, I suppose.

Easily Stressed: This one I’ll actually argue that his turbulent history and the demands of his job have at least taught him to cover this up, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t cracks in the armor. “yOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME!!!!!”

Overly Competitive: He’s a sore loser with a tendency to punish people for failing him (see: Faith and the statue)

Fluctuating Self-Esteem: He’s dealing with a joint worldview where he is at once God’s chosen and a “no one from nowhere with nothing”. How much of that is genuine we may never know, but I don’t think the fluctuation is outside the realm of possibility

John Seed: ESFJ-The Consul

I was a little on the fence about N vs S but ultimately found that John’s a bit more concrete than conceptual.

Strengths:

Strong Practical Skills: I mean, the man orchestrated a hostile takeover of an entire county, he knows how to get things done when he wants

Strong Sense of Duty, Very Loyal: This part is likely underdeveloped given how tempestuous forming relationships was for most of his life, but given how bound he feels to Joseph its clearly in him.

Good at Connecting With Others: He’s a shitstain, but according to Joseph he had business connections everywhere and was basically a walking secret storage bin. John can probably be very charming if you don’t know how he spends his weekends in the bunker.

Sensitive and Warm: again, underdeveloped given his background, but there’s clearly a lot of emotions broiling just below the surface given how volatile he can be and how easily Joseph can access them. Joseph also describes him as a very sensitive kid, for what that’s worth

Weaknesses

Worried About Their Social Status: The boy is a climber

Inflexible: He holds pretty firmly to his headcanons on Hope County (for fuck’s sake John Nick’s sin isn’t Greed, its Sloth) and has a very definite view on how things should be. Not to mention he seems very particular, just based on the state of his home and his clothes. He has rituals and habits, and will not deviate.

Vulnerable to Criticism: If you say anything about his future receding hairline he will cry. He just will. Not to mention I’m citing that look he gives you when you’re apparently costing him paradise by not converting

Often Too Needy: He will either get attention or he will die trying.

Too Selfless: Honestly, selfless isn’t the right word here, but I’ll copy the way 16 personalities describes it because I think it fits really well for John. “ Consuls sometimes try to establish their value with doting attention, something that can quickly overwhelm those who don’t need it, making it ultimately unwelcome. Furthermore, Consuls often neglect their own needs in the process.” John is a deeply selfish person but he does act like someone who tries to get affection by giving everything of himself, often to the point that he makes the other person uncomfortable.

I literally love this dramatic edit it's so good

Faith Seed/Rachel Jessop: ENFP-The Campaigner

I have nothing to add, it just fits. At the most, I think Faith is a little more pragmatic than she lets on (given that whole “if violence is the only language you choose to speak”) but to me, that can easily be an extension of the ENFP’s ability to connect emotionally. It means they know how to cut people off

Strength

Curious: I mean you don’t end up in a cult willingly without a little curiosity. Faith also seems mildly intrigued by the Deputy’s resistance, and while this eventually culminates in frustration with our intractability, I believe there’s a genuine investment in the journey to conversion

Observant: Faith is cued into her public perception, both from the resistance and the cult, and consciously constructs it. She also shares Joseph’s ability to tune into emotions and exploit them.

Energetic and Enthusiastic: How much of her ray of sunshine persona is constructed for the benefit of converting people will probably never be answered, but I don’t believe it can be constructed whole cloth. I think Rachel always was a person with a lot of heart and enthusiasm for her passions, even if it's not as constant as Faith Seed wants you to believe

Excellent Communicators: There’s a reason she’s regarded as the Siren. She can talk people into things even they don’t want to do. Certainly left me shook

Know How To Relax: *insert weed joke here*

Very Popular and Friendly: Again, her Siren persona may not be 100% genuine, but you can’t fake that level of charisma

Weaknesses:

Poor Practical Skills: Listen, Rachel is smart as hell (definitely smart enough to develop a drug and orchestrate mass production thereof), but her planning skills? Not great. Up until Burke gets taken out of the Bliss her plan seemed to be “talk with the Deputy over and over until they change their mind”. She kicks it up a notch after she finally gets annoyed with us but it seems a bit more “making it up as she goes”, and she falls back on strategies that have worked for her before but aren’t really effective for the Deputy. In fairness, I don’t think any of the Seeds are strong in the planning department

Overthink Things, Get Stressed Easily: Unlike with John and Jacob, Faith doesn’t really let us in to see her darker side. She prefers to speak of her flaws in the past tense. Yet clearly anxiety has been an issue in her life, given how deeply her isolation sat with her and her sense of worthlessness. Using drugs as an escape from stress also makes sense for her character, at least from my perspective

Highly Emotional: Faith communicates in emotional terms, manipulates people through emotions, and unlike someone like Jacob Faith loses her temper. She shouts at us, demonstrates her frustration very openly, even screams at us that we couldn’t possibly understand her.

Independent to a Fault: Her personal history gives her some interesting codependent issues with Joseph but based on what we hear of her from Tracey Rachel resented anyone trying to control her, even if they had her best interests at heart, and was perfectly willing to burn bridges over people questioning her choices.

If people are interested I can develop these out more. I may eventually do these for the police force members too but frankly, we’re given less to deal with for them, in particular with Joey and Staci, so who knows.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #joseph seed #jacob seed #john seed #faith seed #rachel jessop #mbti #headcanons

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alightparticle · 5 years

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THE CLOSURE

3rd july 2019.

I’m flying back to Indonesia and I’m gonna spend my summer vacation at the place that have everything that i need, bandung. (I’m quoting sharyse words when she described What’s LA for her) well, she’s right. Bandung just provides me everything. My families, friends, memories, everything that grow me up. I was break and bend in this city. I’m glad. I’m happy. Every inch and part of bandung also never fail me. It cued my brain to replay its emotional memory.

So here it is. The one that caught me up for a long time:

The first time when i knew you i was so pure i gave all of my heart away. I never knew that you’re gonna be this important in my life i mean who’s planning that shit anyway. You’re actually my rebound from my first crush that crushing away my self. At that time who doesn’t like to be loved at least to feel like that? People called it love. I actually don’t have any idea how to label this feeling. First things first i have my own crush since i was a little because I watched too many Indonesian’s soap opera. My problem with most of my crushes was like i never know it just my brain that’s doing crazy stuff trying to adjust what’s happening in my life with my own expectations or what. so it always be a sweet dreamy love story between me and all of my crushes. Yuck. Like y’all know. Expectation will always break us up and even sometimes it’s shattered. We’re fucked up most of the times. Yes i did. I always did. But the story of me and my first crush was a crap at that time I was sad and tried to find another boy that could heal me up and gave me an exciting love story in junior high haha. There you are so cute and pure. A lone wolf that I’ve ever wanted. Lone wolf that fragile and pure.

We were cute. As you know it was my first time to like someone and let’s called it he likes me back regardless of what’s inside his heart and brain. But he literally said he loves me. At that time. And yes he was the first person that said so. Not a lot of boys like me i mean I’m not beautiful enough to be liked anyway so yea. He’s definitely something. But i liked him too much maybe he’s sick of it and he left me. He did. He said so. Let’s called it we’re kinda broke up. It was horrible. I still remembered how did i look like. I was such a mess i cried all night long. I’m fucked. When I’m fucked i always become soo focus with my own life like there’s nothing will stop me and my life. I studied hard at that time so I won’t ended up at the same school with you. “I’m getting out of that place” that’s what I thought. And i made it.

In the mean time my first crush tried to approached me again. I was so desperate and i needed someone to cheer me up and there he was. I had a fling journey in my high school. We did a lot of things like what all of couple did. Yuck. Then I realized. It wasn’t right and that’s not what i want. I want something pure like you and me will go through things together a lot and fight for what we really want in this life. Because life isn’t forever. What we’re gonna do after we die? That’s the thing that i want in life. A partner for a lifetime. Yes i said sorry to him that he’s not what i want in life. After that break up. I‘m done finding any fling. I didn’t let anyone came into my life. I was enjoying my life my high school my friend while i kept my feelings for you. Why i kept falling into you over and over again? I don’t know but I’ll admit that you are the greatest companion that I’ve ever had so yes if what i want in life is a lifetime partner then you are the one that i could ever imagine. At that time.

I confessed my feelings sooo many times I didn’t even remember. I believed that you’re gonna fall for me if i did that. You did i knew you did fall for me. Not for so long. I don’t know what’s on your side until now after so many confessions that i made after so many goodbyes that i said. I never know or maybe i know but i never understand. You’re weird or i am? In the middle of nothing i float. It’s like when I’m flying now from taipei to indonesia. I’m 40.000 feet above the earth and I touch the window next to me it feels cold i wonder how it feels like to be out there in space floating. I’ll be cold and dead definitely. Anyway that’s what i know between you and me. I’m the one who likes you and of course I’m the one who needs you. You’re like my capsule time you know all of my stories. You saw me grow. If you did. At least that what i felt. I still remembered the second heartbreak you caused it was at the end of 2015. You said you like somebody else. It feels real but some part of me deny it. So i made another move as i always do when i have broken heart. I went away to another part of the earth. And that exchange changed my point of view of seeing the world. This world is too vast and mesmerizing there’s no way to just stay and do small things in a small space if you can go out and grow higher and bigger. From that time i made a promise to my self to see another part of the earth. Do big stuff not a small stuff. I’ll make you realize that you regret to let me go. I’ll be great. I told you that finally i can like someone other than you but he left this world earlier that i thought. He’ll forever be my immortal crush. It was the greatest loss that I’ve ever felt. Even me and him have nothing between each other but he is the one that released me from your circle. So he is that important for me.

2017 I graduated and accepted. My parents keep pushing me to marry a guy that I don’t know who but i know it wasn’t you. I am mad. I feel like i haven’t even finish with my feelings and i even just felt a great loss. There’s no way i can accept it. So yea I went away. I told my self to be great not for you to feel a regrets but for me to do great things in life apart from you. I grow. I’m green and shine until i found you and your new girl doing stuff that we never did. Maybe yes i never be anyone in your life. These entire story just about me. The story how i grow through you. Through those broken heart that you caused me. But as i just saw from a broken heart movie on Netflix she said sometimes the things that broken can be fixed because we can just collect a big parts that broken and put it together. But in this case it’s not broken. It’s even shattered to dust but from that dust we can see a glitter that sparks.

Knowing you for nine years was a deal. It’s a big deal. I personally been through a lot of things. Those sweet scenes with you will still be remembered because i can see the happiest face of me so far but i will not keep it anymore. Thank you for letting me grow through you and sorry for causing so many troubles in your life.

I do really hope you’re happy with your life. we’re not growing apart we just grow up.

Things change. I wasn’t ready before but now i am.

Once again thank you.

It’s about all the good memories that i had and the lesson that I gained.

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statementends · 5 years

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Watch Over You

Chapter One, Watcher Characters: Martin Blackwood, Elias Bouchard, Jonathan Sims Pairings: Martin/Jon, One-Sided Elias/Jon Rating: Canon Typical Warnings: Canon Typical, Non-Canonical Character death in later chapters... kind of.

AO3 Link

Summary: In 1991 Elias Bouchard is not a man aiming to make anything of himself.In 2011 Martin Blackwood does his best to hide himself from his coworkers.Both find their way to the Magnus Institute and end up doing what they do best. Watching.Everyone is going to die if Martin doesn't make a sacrifice.

“Do you see?”

1991

Elias Bouchard had not made a name for himself in academic circles. He was not a scholar, and had very little interest in learning for the sake of learning’s sake. His PPE with third class honours would doubtlessly get him nowhere in the middle of a recession, but he wasn’t bothered. He would probably have liked to say it was because he had a plan, or resources. Savings or contacts.

But he didn’t.

He just had expectation weighing above his head from distant parents that would withhold their pennies and dimes if he didn’t ‘earn’ it. Ironic. You’d think being born to money would mean not having to earn it.

The other thing that didn’t help much was the reputation he had gotten. Parties had been much more interesting than learning politics. He liked nothing better than to find a soft couch in some almost stranger’s flat and smoke and drink and ...watch.

In hindsight it was lucky he only got a reputation as a pothead because there was nothing Elias liked more than to … people watch.

And when you’re at a party… well. A lot of the things you’re watching turns out to be fights, dancing, or sex. Especially sex. Elias wouldn’t mark himself down as a pervert exactly. It wasn’t about the sex, although he would be lying if he hadn’t taken note of some of the more attractive men and woman he spied on so casually behind a haze of smoke. It was a vicariousness for life. These people doing, and living. The nerd is the corner having a breakdown, the cute popular boy popping pills, the queen bee throwing up in the toilet. None of them taking note of laid back Elias as they passed the joint around.

He thought about it sometimes. It wasn’t that he was ever invited to these parties. He didn’t have close friends, just … people, acquaintances that knew he’d bring good weed, that thought he was nice enough. The party would be informal, filled with strangers. Filled with little stories and dramas and he would be unnoticed, never taking part himself.

He liked to pretend he was above it, but truthfully rejection had always stung him bitterly. He was afraid. A coward. He could watch and know these people without having met them, without them knowing him, he could know their surface, but he wouldn’t really be able to tell how they would react to him.

But it was alright, because the thrill of watching was better.

It was what had made him send in a resume to the Magnus Institute. He liked the idea of them. Taking stories about ghosts and things. He didn’t really know or understand that it was a place for scholars and research, things he had no interest in. Spooky ghosts. It seemed his speed.

He got the job. Not to take statements or research. No. He was assigned to Artifact Storage at first. That was where he found his destiny and his proper place in the universe.

That was where he met his god.

“Do you understand yet?”

2011

Martin liked his job.

It wasn’t a grocer or fast food restaurant. He didn’t have to deal with customers here. He had always been good at it, with people. He always got top marks in his reviews, and here at the institute he still got to talk to people. Following up for research. Most of the people he came in contact were ...well… scared. And he couldn’t blame them with some of the stories they got. He tried to be gentle with them. He always believed them. After all, even if it wasn’t real it still affected them. --Of course there were some people just taking the piss but the Institute left no story untold, and that was good. Sometimes it helped, telling your story…

Not that he would know that. He was a liar after all. A drop out with no credentials whatsoever. His first year here was nerve racking. He kept expecting someone to find out. That he would be called to Elias’ office, his CV on the desk, red pen circled around all his terrible lies and that he would be kicked out. Fired. And then what would he do? Mum was so sick. He needed the money and the Institute paid so much better than any entry level position he was actually qualified for.

But… nothing ever happened. When he was called to Elias’ office it was for a short performance review where he was told off a little for still not understanding the library’s filing system, but otherwise he was doing satisfactory work. That was it.

So for two years he’d grown… relaxed. He ingratiate himself with his colleagues by making tea and grabbing books and other small gestures. He was good at knowing when people needed something. Probably because his mother was loath to ever ask him for help. He had to know the signs. He got very good at it. Alisha would start crossing her arms and he’d turn up the thermostat. Rosie would start rubbing her hands and he’d hand her some lotion. Ted would get moody and he’d offer a granola bar. He knew everyone’s little indications that they could use a hot drink. He knew how to look after people, and the rest although challenging he learned. Learned how to write research papers and reports that no one seemed to complain about, and earned his paycheck that kept his family afloat.

Of course… it was lonely. Martin had always been...well… shy. Opening up had never been easy for him, not since his father left. He couldn’t exactly invite his co-workers over for a pint. His mother needed her rest, and his flat was small. She hated when he brought people over. She… always had her moods and really it was just better if she had her quiet. Of course, that didn’t stop him from going to other people’s flats and out to the pub, but…

It was… he didn’t really understand it. He liked to think of himself as nice. He got on everyone’s good side, but he didn’t really make friends. Maybe they knew, that underneath everything he was keeping something secret. Or maybe he was unlikable. That hurt to think about and he brushed it aside before he could connect it with his homelife.

The point was, despite everything, Martin liked his Jon.

Job.

Job. He liked his job.

He didn’t like Jon.

Jon was abrupt, rude, demanding, and all around stressful to work with. It didn’t help that he was absolutely brilliant. That he could rattle off files and dates and books off the top of his head. That he could translate Latin without need of reference guides. That for all his knowledge on the paranormal he seemed almost completely skeptical. He didn’t have a soft touch when dealing with the public, if it was unverifiable he had no time for it.

It wasn’t even that Jon was egotistical about how knowledgeable he was. He didn’t even really seem to realize how clever he was. It was just a matter of course. A stepping stone to get him to well… Martin didn’t know what. Maybe more information. Most nights Martin would see Jon at his desk reading or going over one thing or another. He was diligent, precise, hardworking and…

And Martin was having a hard time with him honestly. It was… well… he had the feeling Jon didn’t … like him.

Which… it was just… why would Jon dislike him? He had been nothing but nice to him. He had even shown him around in his first week--not that he actually needed showing around. Jon caught on to the filing system within five minutes of looking in the stacks. It was so stupid. Martin had wanted to make a good impression. The new researcher was supposed to be around his age (although everyone thought Martin was older with all the lies he had put down). Martin had hoped that maybe… well that maybe he might make a friend. Stupid. So stupid. And then meeting him well… Martin froze up.

Jonathan was … striking. Not classically handsome or anything but just… there was just something so magnetic about him. Silver had started to appear in his dark hair giving him a distinguished look. He was slim, and shorter than Martin. He had a tolerant neutral expression, a polite smile. Martin foolishly thought he might look pretty with a real one-- and his eyes. His eyes were piercing… absorbing. Being in Jon’s gaze was almost painful, but when it left him to trace over the shelves upon shelves of books Martin felt achingly empty.

“Did you need something?” Jon had asked, noticing Martin was still at his elbow. He had been staring at all the books before that, still and calm, although in retrospect Martin realized he was excited.

“Well I can show you around the rest of the building, introduce you to some of the others.”

“No need,” Jon waved his hand. “I’m fine… thank you.” It was more of a dismissal than thanks, but Martin didn’t take the hint.

“I can help you go through the filing system. It’s a little tricky.”

“I got it. I’m good,” Jon said shortly.

“Are you sure you don’t want a cu--”

“Martin.” Jon’s tone drew a harsh edge. “I’m fine. Don’t you have your own work to do?”

Martin made a few bumbling words of … something and left. He tried to tell himself that Jon was just an arse, but rather convinced himself that he had been the one being too pushy. Usually he was better at reading people, but Jon had been irritated from the very beginning, and Martin had been… distracted by him.

Martin decided that he needed to do better with Jon there and then, but all he managed to do was make things between them worse. He tried to learn Jon’s signals. When he was cold, or hungry, or needed a break, but he didn’t give them off. He had to be just as tired and hungry as anyone else going at the rate he did, but he gave no indication of it. He only continued plowing through books and fieldnotes. Writing down information with his precise handwriting. Never stopping to sigh or look out the window. The only thing that seemed to pick up his mood was when new books came in.

It was actually sort of worrisome the way Jon treated himself, so rather than helping Jon like he did everyone else Martin… butted in. After four hours he would interrupt and offer tea and biscuits. He would ask if Jon wanted the window open. He would note that it was lunchtime loudly in Jon’s vicinity. If nothing else Martin became good at identifying the range of Jon’s tolerance, but it worked. Jon would drink his tea with a grumbled resentful thanks. He would pull out the paper bag containing his lunch although he wouldn’t stop working while he ate it. He’d offer a pinched look when Martin asked about temperature. It didn’t take long for Martin to stop offering to help with the work itself. He could feel Jon’s estimations of him fall even lower when he handed him the page of translated Latin.

“How long… have you worked here?” Jon asked slowly.

Martin wished he could just see in Jon’s head so that he could give him what he wanted. Casually asking around to the other researchers didn’t gain much. Jonathan Sims is testy, but so knowledgeable. Have you read his paper on parasycopathy--or… something that sounded like that. Jon was even helpful, albeit grudgingly so with his fellow researchers. He didn’t like the idea of sloppy research representing the Institute so he would proofread, edit, or offer sources to those in need and brave enough to pull him from his own studies.

Maybe Martin was being unfair. Jon wasn’t always a grouch. He would get very excited and light up when someone got him into a conversation about a topic he didn’t know anything about. He would be extensive in asking all the information he could get on it. It looked … intimate in some ways. Martin had never had a topic that would perk Jon’s interest, but he liked to watch when someone else did. Jon was… captivating when he got like that. It was like a glimpse behind the wall he had built around himself. He was bea--

Martin shook his head in mild despair. Was he really that daft? Jon didn’t like him. There was no point in pining for something that would never happen. He should stop. He should leave Jon be and stop worrying about him and his skipped meals and late hours.

He should stay away.

He should stop watching him.

But he couldn’t. In fact if anything he watched him more. Wanted to see everything that Jon would show.

There’s a feeling here. Bitter mutual understanding. Mild annoyance. One of them wants to deny they are the same.

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fanfiction #martinjon #eliasjon onesided #martin blackwood #elias bouchard #the archivist #jonathan sims tma

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cosmospoons · 6 years

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House MD season 2

30 second episode recaps from someone whos just watched em for the first time and has bad recall

Ep1: they gotta cure the death row dude so he can go back to death row to b killed, cameron is Bad at telling ppl they're dying, house n Wilson had lunch with the coma guy, they cured death row man, also they changed the theme and I hate it Ep2: House has hayfever lmao, this cancer girl with hallucinations is honestly just the coolest she's so positive I love her, shes nine and got chase to kiss her hero,, house an Wilson have a shared balcony amazing, Wilson is so good and pure and is amazing at his job holy shit I love this man. House actually 'temporarily killed' the patient to cure her and made people run drills on a dead man. House is 400% going to buy a motorbike Ep3: i prayed for Cuddy's handyman to fall off her roof past the window and then god answered my prayers and he did, house broke into Cuddy's house mainly to look at her underwear lbr and then won the 'can we chop off his arm' argument, house secretly speaks spanish and waited for the most dramatic moment to reveal this, they gate crashed a cock fight (ayy) and saved the patient Ep4: the patient is a doctor with an ego ((according to house lmao pot, kettle)) who wanted to sit in on the diagnostic process and honestly is actually full of himself,, house puts him on a tippy table and cranks it up, foreman made a patient cry except he was pretending to be house lmao house got in shit,, Cameron needs to stop please, can the patient get his head out his arse please. house gatecrashes the press conference that the patient called and managed to put him into cardiac arrest on live television and eventually cured him of everything cept bein a knob Ep5: Wilson's handwriting is such doctor handwriting and house definitely bought a motorbike and made Wilson pay for it he's so pleased with himself. The kid keeps getting electrocuted but like,, by his own body. House is avoiding his parents but Cameron n Wilson aren't letting him get away with it. I love house n Wilson's friendship so much it's worth 5k apparently lmao. These patients are fukin serial liars jc why are ppl like this, it was rADIATION wow houses dad is a fucking DICK. There were so many good interactions and the house/wilson ship is sailing Ep6: there was a cyclist who took a LOT of drugs which turned out to be curing him of the thing he had, house is a douchebag but we all knew that - he may b a dick to mark but m sure mark deserves it n I love him anyway. Wilson remains a sweet boy even if he cheats idgaf he's adorable look at him ((wilson: i net someone who made me feel funny, me: was it hOUSE)),, he n house are balcony buddies and house shud stop stealing his food, and he should definitely stop digging thru stacys life but actually fuck it why not he's not gunna let go of this why is she so pissy i wanna know Ep7: I love houses new pet rat Steve McQueen,, Wilson is 4000% done with houses Stacy related antics which is fair tbh he should stop but I actually don't give much of a shit about Stacy I've taken against her....he did deserve what she said after reading her file tho. The patient may have given Cameron aids and Cameron got high and slept with Chase, who she may have given aids lmao these ppl r messes but not as much of a mess as that father/son relationship jc...i dont remember anything else about the patient whoops Ep8: chase is being suuuueeeeddd and he keeps lying about why lmao,, house fuckin reamed him one which was probably called for but maybe not like that, turns out chase screwed up cus his dad died and foreman is houses boss ((supervisor)) now how well do u think that's gunna work (((not very))) Stacy's still a bitch and has ~~feelings~~ Ep9: foreman is in charge and house is doing his utmost best to be the dick of the year and it's fucking hilarious honestly I love this man the shit he pulls jc,,, Wilson is super aware of houses antics as usual and had a mild gay panic when foreman started to question him about house,, the patient was a big ol Faker™ but surprise surprise she was actually sick this time ((house totally injected her with a load of stuff so she’d b readmitted after they’s released her)) Ep10: house solved a case thru the phone alone and spent most of the ep at the airport except for those five minutes when he almost slept with Stacy who once had a terrible experience with curry apparently and called house a vindaloo, nice restraint very well timed phone call thank fuck,,, they will sleep together tho and I am Not Happy about it....the power play amongst the fellows is a boiling pot of trouble - the patient was v interesting I enjoyed the word scramble game Ep12: WHAT A GOOD FUCKIN EP so the patient orgasmed in the white chamber while unconscious and covered in burns but more importantly house gatecrashed the lecture of his old archenemy that he had arranged just so he could disturb it and criticise the dude who got him thrown out of med school for snitchin on his cheating all whilst Wilson told him to get better hobbies (('a hooker anything please')),, to test this dudes migraine meds he gave deliberately himself a migraine and the meds didn't work (unsurprising) so the fellows turned out all the lights while he had a nap under the table,, wilson took a diff approach and deliberately made a Lot of noise because he is a Shit even if he hides it better than house,,,, then house dropped a tab of acid and took a bunch of antidepressants, and cured his migraine as well as the patient Ep13: houses leg was super duper sore but at least we got some fantastic house/wilson interaction when wilson pretended to be God during that MRI, even if house hit him with a cane.... The patient was a teen supermodel who seduced her own father to get whatever she wanted,, house was super sure she had cancer and it turns out she did but it was testicular because she had xy chromosomes and was immune to testosterone - which was really fucking interesting...... Also cuddy played house like a violin and gave him placebo saline instead of a morphine shot to prove to him that his leg pain was psychological Ep14: House is stealing organs now. Ok so technically he did get the husband's permission to steal his newly dead wife’s heart for the dying old dude with a strangely young daughter but only after he kneed house in the balls super hard. House spent the whole ep goin on at wilson about the affair he thought he was having and at the end wilson showed up on houses doorstep but sURPRIse !! It was his wife who was sleeping around!! poor baby Wilson I know what goes around comes around but he's such a kicked puppy cmon Ep15: Wilson and house living together is a recipe for disaster and I'm living for it so good so many good interactions I love that house is gunna keep him for his food ((I'll never b over house hearing the voicemail about Wilson's new place, looking over at him sleeping on the couch and then deleting it so he has to stay)). The patient had a super cool marriage and didn't have lupus except whoops actually not a happy marriage his wife is tryna kill him thru gold poisoning. House needs to stop accosting ppl in bathrooms and should also stop destroying marriages Ep16: oh man good shit so,, first of all house n Wilson are still living together and there are some Domestic Antics happening right here including but not limited to a prank war which house desperately tried to get Wilson to participate in, the peak of which had house making Wilson wet the couch and Wilson sabotaging houses cane. The patients mum was ridiculously overprotective and house essentially kidnapped the patient to find the tick noone else thought was there,, surprisingly Wilson helped set that up despite the fact house was the reason he woke up wet that morning Ep17: first things first house could absolutely clean everyone out at poker if he knows Cuddy's tells that well through just a phonecall,, also he needs to stop calling Wilson out on his toenail varnish habits lmao. The patient was a smol boy who presented the same symptoms as an unsolved and dead case that house had 12 yrs ago so he really wasn't gunna let this one go cus he's like a dog with a bone. They were in formal wear all ep which was a Good Look™ and Wilson's retelling of how he won the poker championship may have been one of the cutest things I have ever seen Ep18: Emma from Glee is here and she has the black plague,, her gf decided to donate her liver n Cameron was all het up cus house had worked out plague girl was gunna leave her and sending the gf in blind would be ~~unethical~~ but turns out she knew and deliberately did that so Emma would stay with her out of guilt lmao. In other news Cameron's pissy cus foreman 'stole' her article and house spent most of the episode napping cus wilson is fuckin up his sleep cycle ;) I'm upset there was no physical wilson Ep19: the most annoying patient so far appears in the form of a 15 yr old faith healer with herpes. I feel like the degree to which unrelenting niceness irritates me rly says something about me but eh oh well. Chase (ofc it was chase) kept a tally on who was winning God or house, faith healer managed to shrink a womans cancer tumour through giving her herpes (((a miracle praise be))) and during poker night house called wilson out on sleeping with said cancer patient and discovered wilson was actually living with her whoops bad Wilson ((he totally regrets his life choices ((he should)))) Ep20: HOLY SHIT ITS A TWOPARTER AND FOREMANS GUNNA DIE !! Ok so,,, there was this cop who couldn't stop laughing till he could but then it got a lot worse and then foreman caught whatever it was which they began to realise when he smirked as house shot a corpse to see what a bullet in a brain would do to an MRI ((spoilers it broke the machine)) anyway long story short it wasnt the pigeons and the cops dead and foreman is gunna die even after that shitdick move he pulled where he stabbed Cameron with a needle so she'd go to the apartment Ep21: HOO BOY OK SO a lot happened so much happened the most important thing is foreman by the end of the ep is mostly kind of ok - he's just a bit muddled on his lefts n rights. During the ep house was stressed the entire time cus even tho he denys it he does love n care for his ducklings,, he even cares enough to deliberately attempt to poison Steve McQueen which didn't work but can be added to the list of stressful events. Cameron grew a spine a lil bit I literally yelled when she berated cuddy and she forced the biopsy cus foreman had the foresight (ayyyyy) to make her his medical proxy even if house managed to find the problem anyway so it was ultimately unnecessary and has just resulted in some possible brain damage Ep22: house keeps trying to pick a fight with foreman and failing because Foreman's all happy go lucky now, the patient was mad because of a thing and killed her baby accidentally on purpose, the music that played during the baby autopsy was super unnecessary and bizzare, and in the end the woman had cancer but she's refusing treatment cus of the baby guilt. Cuddy didn't have cancer, which we know because Wilson ((WILSON NOT HOUSE)) stole her dna and ran secret tests in the middle of the night, but it still wasn't a date Wilson despite what house said about skin lessions she was actually just going to attempt to use u as a sperm donor - have fun at the L-word marathon with house you big sad loser (I love u) Ep23: we meet an old house friend which is Super fun he is ridiculously naive and I love that he calls house g-man holy shit. House is now giving cuddy injections as part of a fertility treatment which is nice of him especially seeing as his leg was in a Lot of pain this ep,, like a LOT...he's self-injecting morphine now which is probably bad :/ house's friend's daughter was the patient at one point she pooped out her mouth gRoSs and house ran a paternity test n told the girl she was actually the dudes daughter ((except he was lYINg in support of his friend)) he does care Ep24: HOUSE GOT SHOT WHAT IS IT WITH THIS TEAM SUFFERING RN JC this was a very fun episode of 'guess when house is hallucinating', spoilers the answer is all the time the whole ep takes place in his head. That aside I absolutely loved the hospital gown/trainer combo (no I won't apologize) and the fact that house did almost none of his physio - instead relegating it to others which is....not how it works. The hallucinatory clinic patient was freaky deaky his eye exploded and so did his dick but dw cus to escape the hallucination house killed him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ what can u do. At the end house woke up n requested ketamine we'll see how that goes

Season 1

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richiefuckfacetozier · 6 years

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Chapter 9: Lonesome Day

Story: It’s Not My Fault

Title - Lonesome Day by Bruce Springteen

Also on Archive of Our Own

For other chapters - | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 |

Eddie was sitting at his desk trying to finish his homework. It was the first day of winter break and he desperately wanted to get everything done, so he would not have to worry about it later. He was taking almost all AP courses and his teachers were merciless with their assignments. His friends tried to get him to hang out that night, but he turned them down. A couple hours into studying, he heard the phone distantly downstairs and wondered who might be calling.

Probably one of my aunts. Eddie thought vaguely. He stared at the Calculus problem in front of him and cursed because he could not find his notes on how to solve it. He would have to call Richie or Stanley later for help.

“Eddie bear!” His mother called.

“Yeah, Ma?!” Eddie yelled back still looking at his notes.

“Tozier is on the phone!” She shouted back.

“Ok! I will be there in a minute.” He put his pencil down and got up stretching.

“You shouldn’t keep people waiting, even if they are a Tozier.” He could hear her say. Eddie smiled to himself. As much as his mother hated to admit it, she was a little entertained by Richie. He probably chatted her up in that charismatic way he does before she finally called Eddie down. She did not like Richie per se but thought he was goofy.

Eddie grabbed a sweater from his closet because he knew the kitchen would be freezing. He put on socks and took a blanket to sling around his shoulders. He bounded down the stairs and sat at the kitchen table picking up the phone.

“Hey Richie,” He said trying to keep his excitement down. Richie’s loud voice came through the receiver, “Hey Candy Cane! Keeping me wanting and waiting as usual. You are the biggest tease.” Eddie rolled his eyes but his stomach did backflips at hearing Richie’s voice.

“It is cold in my kitchen, so I had to put on some fucking layers, you idiot.” He could not keep the smile out of his voice even if he tried.

Eddie knew Richie had a smirk plastered on his face as he said, “Is that so. What are you wearing, Eds? Something sexy I hope.”

“Don’t call me, Eds.” He grumbled lamely. “I bet you are wearing a sweater that drowns you and fuzzy socks. My favorite look for you. It is so cute.”

Richie started making kissy noises that Eddie could only imagine made him look like a doofus.

“You don’t know my life and I am not cu - ” Eddie stopped himself from saying ‘cute’ in case his mother could hear him.

“You are a terrible liar.” Richie sing-songed.

“Alright, I have math to get back too. Did you call for a reason?” Eddie asked impatiently. He started playing with the cord of the phone. He wished his mother would get a wireless phone that he could take upstairs. It would allow him to speak with Richie properly.

“Are you serious?! You are doing homework.” Richie whined. “You are such a loser!”

“So are you.” Eddie accused.

“Touché baby,” Richie rhythmed laughing. Eddie listened to his laugh with a warmth that spread all over. Richie always spent so much time trying to make everyone else laugh, but Eddie loved when he let go. It was the most beautiful sound in the world.

“How’s your day been so far?” Eddie asked not really wanting to get back to work when he could talk to Richie.

“Eh, fine. Lame without you around.” Richie responded. Eddie could tell he was a little distracted, which was never unusual with him.

“Are you hanging out with everyone tonight? I am going to pass until I finish my work.”

“No, I’m not,” Richie said with a weird seriousness.

Eddie frowned, “Why not?”

“I don’t feel like it and you won’t be there so what’s the point?”

Eddie could immediately sense something was off. Richie never ditched their friends unless he was dealing with a family issue.

“Rich...what’s up?” Eddie asked patiently.

Richie paused then let out a sigh, “Mom got a fucking DUI.”

Eddie’s hand went to his mouth in surprise, “Are you shitting me?”

“Unfortunately, I’m not. Her license has been suspended and guess who is stuck parent-sitting her?”

Eddie’s rage began to bubble to the surface, “I’m so sorry, Richie. That’s a horrible start to the Winter Break. Where the fuck is your dad?”

“Wentworthless and I got into a huge fucking argument about giving up my winter break for this bullshit. Mostly me shouting and him ignoring. Mom joined in to scream that he is the reason I am gay, although she didn’t use such a kind word as gay and it really had nothing to do with the fight.” Richie’s voice sounded so defeated. If Eddie had to guess, he had probably stayed up all night thinking about his family problems.

Eddie’s heart hurt, “I wish I could help, you deserve so much better.”

“It’s ok. I’ve accepted that the best I’m going to get is being with you.” Richie said with utter sincerity. “Which is so great that it outweighs my family crap. Actually, I probably have it so good with you that God decided I can’t have it too amazing, so she gave me a perfect best friend/boyfriend but shitty family issues.”

“Did you just call God a she?” Eddie heard the breathiness in his voice. It felt so bizarre that Richie’s complete lack of a filter could take his breath away.

“God is obviously a woman. Only a woman could make someone as drop dead gorgeous as you.”

Eddie put the back of his hand against his face which was on fire. He was starting to feel desperate to be near Richie at that moment. To kiss him and tell him that he was the gorgeous one, who deserved the world. Eddie was nothing compared to Richie. Eddie had nothing without Richie. These emotions were becoming overwhelming.

“No more compliments, they are making me lightheaded.” Eddie blurted out.

“Wait! One more, one more.” Richie demanded. “God has to be a woman because only a woman has the delicate hands to sculpt an ass as good as yours.”

“And with that, the moment is gone and I’m hanging up.” Eddie groaned in annoyance.

“There is one bit of good news...I guess,” Richie said stopping Eddie from ending the call. “Wentworthless is giving me mom’s car.”

“Are you serious?!” Eddie questioned trying to stay respectful but could not help his thrill. Now that Richie had a car, they could hang out more easily and have adventures outside of town. This was incredible news.

“Yeah! He says it is all mine. I have to run all our errands but I can drive us to school!”

“And we can go on actual dates!” Eddie chimed in then looked at the door, nervous that his mother may have heard.

“Wow! So much better than school. What was I thinking?! This is going to be fucking amazing.” Richie’s voice brightened significantly. “I can totally teach you to drive too!”

“I can drive!” Eddie countered.

“You drove one time which made you and your mom get into such a big fight that you barely went home for a week. That does not count.” Richie reasoned.

“True...I hate that all of you have your licenses and I only have a permit.” “Well, you just turned 16 last month and the rest of us have been 16 all year. Except for Stan who is a year older. Maybe that’s why he is such a grump all the time. Grumpy old man.”

Eddie clicked his tongue disapprovingly, “Don’t say that to him. Being a year older and in our grade is a sore spot for him.”

“I’ll give him a call after this and tell him then.”

“Oh my god, you are so immature...” Eddie complained.

“And you are the baby of the group.”

“I’m not a baby!”

“Just my baby.”

“Gross. Goodbye.”

“Thanks for listening, Eddie. I love you.” Richie said with all the causality in the world. It made Eddie’s heart beat faster.

“That’s what I’m here for.” Eddie lowered his voice to barely a whisper. “I love you too. Bye.” They hung up and he stared at the phone. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly then picked up the receiver again.

He dialed a number and listened to the ring. A familiar perpetually sad voice answered. “Hello, you’ve reached the Denbroughs.”

“Hello Mr. Denbrough, this is Eddie Kaspbrak. May I speak to Bill?” Eddie heard a distant ‘Bill!’ and after a couple minutes, his friend answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi Big Bill, I have a huge favor to ask.” Eddie decided to get right to the point.

“Sure Eddie, what do you n-need?”

“Um...it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Alright…”

“And I don’t want the other losers to know. Especially Richie.”

Bill sounded immediately anxious. “Eddie...you aren’t going to ask me ab-b-bout the gay b-birds and bees are you?”

“WHAT! NO NO OF COURSE NOT.” Eddie felt himself blushing horribly. “Oh my god, I would never.”

“Thank god.” He said with relief.

“I want to learn to drive.” Eddie stated firmly.

“Oh!”

“I am finally 16, all of you have your fucking licenses but I don’t and it’s really frustrating.”

“Your mom doesn’t have time to teach you?” Bill questioned cautiously.

“My mom doesn’t want me to get a driver’s license.” Eddie made his voice higher and more nasally to mimic his mother, “Eddie bear, 40,000 people die by automobile accidents each year. I can drive you anywhere you need to go.”

Bill laughed in that light way he does, “That’s rough. I will, of course, teach you!”

Bill came to regret teaching Eddie almost immediately. He could keep his stutter under control most of the time, perhaps a word or two that did not come out right. However, when he got stressed out, words were almost impossible to get out.

“Eddie, turn left here.” Bill said as calmly as he could. Eddie was gripping the steering wheel for dear life, eyes scanning the road crazy.

“But there are cars coming! I can’t turn left while they are coming!” Eddie said fearfully.

“Eddie! Be calm! It will be fine just -”

“Bill! I can’t! I’m going to hit someone.”

“No you’re n-n-not just wait until they –”

Eddie slammed on the accelerator and flew through the intersection turning the wheel harshly. Every car braked and honked at him. Bill and Eddie barely noticed because they were screaming. Bill gripped the dashboard desperately and Eddie closed his eyes as the van made a hard left.

“EYES OP-OP-OP EYES EYES!” Bill managed to barely get out. After making the dramatic turn, Eddie pulled over.

“M-maybe I shouldn’t be t-t-teaching you.” Bill said clutching his chest.

The next day, Ben tried his luck. Ben was the nicest one in the friend group and people never yelled at him. So when he asked Eddie to try parallel parking he did not expect to be exploded at.

“You have to tell me how!” Eddie shouted.

Ben winced but explained easily, “Eddie I did. Pull up next to the car in front of us, then a sharp turn into the spot behind then wait until you see the far side of the other car and - ”

“None of that makes any sense! Why can’t you explain it better?!” Eddie was hyperventilating as he tried to go forward and back up into the spot.

His face was pale and he could not stop shaking. Ben went to touch his shoulder and Eddie hissed at him, “Do not fucking touch me. JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO.”

Ben sank into the passenger seat and when he spoke it was barely a whisper, “You have to pull forward and…”

“WHAT? Speak up, Ben. I can’t fucking hear you.”

Ben ended up curling in on himself and Eddie had to take them back to Bill’s apologizing profusely the whole time. * Mike and Eddie almost had an easy time.

Mike had a calming presence and explained everything clearly to Eddie. They were approaching a busier part of town and Eddie was driving at a glacial pace.

“You can speed up a little Eddie.” Mike instructed.

“No, I’m too nervous to go any faster.” Eddie whined. He kept his eyes glued to the road trying to stay in his lane.

Mike chuckled lightly, “You are going a little too slow and can actually get a ticket for going below the speed limit.”

Eddie looked at him in fear, “I CAN GET A TICKET FOR GOING TOO SLOW?!”

Eddie pressed on the accelerator and started zooming down the street. Their backs hit the seats at the force of how fast they were going.

“No wait! Slow down! Eddie!” Mike was quickly losing his composure.

They were approaching a four-way intersection. The light turned yellow and there was no way they were going to make it.

“BRAKE! BRAKE!”

Instead of breaking, Eddie floored it and he blew through a red light. All the cars were honking and one almost hit them but swerved just in time.

“Pull over! You are done!” Mike shouted. “I did not plan to die today, Edward!”

“Fucking hell,” Eddie cursed in rage.

Stanley outright refused to help.

"But Stanley, please?!" Eddie asked desperately. "You probably know how to teach the best!"

"No Eddie, I know you. If I try to teach you, you are going throw something at me." Stanley said seriously.

"When have I ever..."

Stanley interrupted him, "Two days ago when I tried to explain that math problem to you. You got mad and threw a pencil at me. Who knows what would get thrown at me if we were in a car."

Eddie looked at him with a miserable expression. Stanley sighed deeply, "What about Richie? He's usually the only person that can teach you anything."

"Trapped at his house and I don't want him to know!"

"Try Bev."

Beverly attempted a harsher tactic of yelling back at Eddie whenever he raised his voice. She would cut him off every time he sassed her until they eventually started full on shouting over each other.

“You are all HORRIBLE teachers,” Eddie screamed. “None of you know how to properly instruct me!”

“NO!” Beverly responded screeching so loud it hurt both their ears, “You are a HORRIBLE FUCKING STUDENT!”

“NO I'M NOT!”

“YES YOU ARE!”

“NO I'M NOT!”

“YES YOU ARE!”

“NO I'M…”

“WATCH OUT FOR THAT KID!”

Eddie braked and the seat belts dug into their chests painfully. Beverly did not even bother taking over the car after that. She opened her door and stormed away. Eddie pulled over to the side thinking about how much he hated himself at that moment.

Bill later came and picked up his car. Eddie sat in the passenger seat seething. He did not speak, just stayed still trying to keep angry tears from falling. He was being a nightmare, he knew that. He really did want to learn to drive, it was just hard when he kept panicking or getting mad.

When Bill dropped him off at home he finally broke the silence. “So Eds...is everything ok with you and Richie?”

“Yes, of course.” Eddie looked over confused.

“I am j-just wondering if you had a fight and that’s why y-y-you are so on edge.” Bill raised his hands up to ward off possible punches.

“Put your hands down Bill, I am not going to hit you.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “I guess it is a little because I may not see Richie until we are back at school. It is stupid, but I miss him.”

“You talk on the phone every day.” Bill laughed.

“Sure! But it isn’t the same as seeing his stupid face.” Eddie mumbled.

Bill shoved Eddie lightly, “I miss you yelling at him instead of us.”

“Yeah, my panicking is preventing me from learning to drive.” Eddie opened the door to get out.

Bill stopped him to say, “We’ll figure it out. Tomorrow’s another day.”

“Ok.” Eddie closed the door and went into his house.

His mother was not home, so he went into the kitchen and dialed Richie’s number.

As soon as he heard Richie’s voice, Eddie said, “I miss you.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my Eds?” Richie said fake seriously. “He would never purposefully be nice to me or are the candy nicknames finally making you sweeter?”

“See that’s what I miss. The way you make me angry but flattered at the same time. How the fuck do you do that?” Eddie said with malice.

Richie hesitated before responding, “What happened today?”

“It’s just been this whole week really. Just shitty and frustrating.”

“You know what I do when I am frustrated?”

Eddie frowned, “If you say an inappropriate joke right now, I am not talking to you for the rest of break.”

“I think about how the most important person in my life loves me, inappropriate jokes and all.”

Eddie let out a sigh and could feel his body getting warm, “If you were here, I would totally kiss you right now.”

“Yeah? Well, I would kiss you back and probably grab your ass.” Richie stated matter of factly.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Oh my god, shut the fuck up.”

“Let’s talk dirty over the phone.” Richie suggested in a husky voice. Eddie opened and closed his mouth several times before being able to form a proper sentence. “Ew, no! Your parents could be listening on the other line or my mom could get back from wherever she is and walk in.”

Richie completely ignored Eddie’s protests, “Alright I’ll start. My hands grip your tiny waist and bring it closer to me as your tongue does naughty things to my…”

“GOODNIGHT RICHIE!” Eddie shouted down the phone.

“Goodnight! Love you!” Richie responded laughing like a lunatic.

Eddie put the receiver down as he laughed to himself. How could he miss someone who drove him so crazy?

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #stanley uris #mike hanlon #it 2017 #it fandom #it fanfiction #cursing #love #i am a loser #the losers club #thetheatregal reddie fanfiction #Shannon writes #It's Not My Fault

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arnoldjaime13 · 3 years

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Blog Tour- BALLET ORPHANS by @ClassicalGrrl With An Excerpt & #Giveaway! @RockstarBkTours

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the BALLET ORPHANS by Terez Mertes Rose Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

About The Book:

Title: BALLET ORPHANS : A Prequel (Ballet Theatre Chronicles Book 3)

Author: Terez Mertes Rose

Pub. Date: January 2, 2021

Publisher: Classical Girl Press

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 372

Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, Kindle, B&N, TBD, Bookshop.org

Read For FREE With A Kindle Unlimited Membership!

It's 1990, and New York soloist April Manning is trying to rebalance her world in the aftermath of her parents’ deaths. An offer to join the struggling West Coast Ballet Theatre as a principal dancer seems like the perfect opportunity for a fresh start—a new life in San Francisco, an exciting step up in her career, and the hope of a redefined sense of family. But the other dancers are wary, clannish and tight-lipped, particularly about an incident that hastened the departure of their beloved artistic director, leading to the arrival of his replacement, the young, inexperienced Anders Gunst. And no one wants to talk about Jana, a former company member who defiantly walked out rather than work under Anders. It is Jana herself who offers April hints, and even friendship, where she reveals a loneliness and hunger to belong that newly orphaned April well understands. But there is something troubling about Jana, and what April doesn’t know could prove deadly.

A prequel to the Ballet Theatre Chronicles, BALLET ORPHANS explores the work and sacrifices required to arrive at the highest tiers of the professional ballet world, coupled with the primal, universal desire to belong, to love and be loved, and the lengths we’ll go to protect those we call family.

“A stimulating and entertaining tale in which passion and art intermingle.” — Kirkus Reviews

Excerpt:

“Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one.”

— Jane Howard

October 1989

New York City

Chapter 1

Bad News from Omaha

The bad news arrived backstage at the New York State Theater, seconds before curtain. The timing couldn’t have been worse. My partner Mick and I had already settled in our opening pose onstage, the orchestra cued, when the in-house phone next to the monitor rang. Everyone knew only emergency calls came through during a performance. Alarmed, I glanced over at the stage manager as he listened with a few terse “uh huh” replies. He looked up and met my gaze. His face was impassive, but I knew, right then.

It was bad. And it involved me.

There was no time to think. The curtain began to rise, giving me no choice but to freeze in our couple’s pose, smile brightly, await our music cue, and dance. Which was fine in the end, because when something very bad is occurring in real life, it helps to switch over to performing life. My adrenaline had been triggered, because I knew, I knew, that something terrible had happened, and my biggest question at that point was, “Is my mother alive or dead?” I tried to tell myself it was simply a knee-jerk response after hearing of my dad’s death in the same way, two and a half years earlier.

The opening section’s lightning-fast pace, our arms moving as busily as our legs, required all my attention. A partnered arabesque en pointe flowed into a rapid pivot to the other direction, and a 3

Terez Mertes Rose

cartwheel-like lift that planted me on Mick’s other side. The blinding lights from the side booms cast the stage manager in shadow, mercifully obscuring him and his news. Our downstage right exit, however, brought us right to him. As Mick, panting, loped over to the table that held his water bottle, I approached the stage manager.

He’d swiveled away from his monitor to face me, headphones askew so he could hear both me and his crew.

“Just tell me this,” I said. “Do I need to catch a flight to Omaha tonight?”

He hesitated. “You should.”

Which meant my mom was still alive.

“How bad is she? It’s my mom, right?”

He nodded reluctantly. “She’s had a stroke. She’s in intensive care. Your aunt called. She said your mother’s condition is critical but stable, and for you to come when you can.”

“Please, can someone find Vincent and tell him the news?”

Vincent was my boyfriend and an ABT—American Ballet Theatre—

company principal. I paused to steady my shaking voice. “Ask him to get me a seat on a flight departing from JFK any time after ten.”

“All right,” the stage manager said, and nodded to his assistant, who sped off.

Vincent arrived backstage while I was finishing my solo. He was in costume, performing in the night’s third ballet with Natalia.

Natalia, like me, was a soloist with the ABT although five years younger. Russian-bred and Bolshoi-trained, she was sublimely talented, eyeing the promotion to principal that all the female soloists wanted. More disconcerting, of late, she’d been eyeing Vincent with the same hungry expression. But now Natalia was the least of my concerns.

Vincent enveloped me in a smothering hug the instant I stepped offstage.

“Oh, April!” he exclaimed in a tragic, theatrical voice, over and over until I pushed him away. It was cloying. It seemed to be more about Vincent showing everyone how caring he was, rather than Vincent aching with genuine compassion.

“Did you get me a flight?” I asked.

“I did. There’s a long layover; nothing gets you into Omaha until early morning.”

“That’s all right. I expected that. Thank you.”

“How are you doing—” he began, but I held up a hand.

“I can’t talk about the rest now. I’m sorry. I need to focus.” I turned abruptly away from him and stepped to the upstage right wing, alone, to await the next cue. But by now, others knew about the news. One wing down, two male corps dancers were discussing it, unaware of my presence nearby.

“Didn't this already happen to her? Wasn’t her mom dying a couple years ago?”

“That was her dad.”

“Shit. Did he die?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit. Now her mom?”

“Yeah.”

“Is she dead?”

“Nah. But maybe dying.”

“What a drag.”

“Seriously. Hey, wanna go grab dinner tonight?”

“Sure. As long as I can ice my knee while we’re eating.”

“Antonio’s will bring you an ice pack if you order a full meal.”

“Sounds good to me. Where’s my towel? I’m sweating like a pig tonight.”

Mick appeared by my side. Unlike Vincent, he knew how to handle my news. He gave my hand a supportive squeeze and we stood without talking as the ensemble dancers waltzed off the stage and the music shifted from energetic to contemplative. Once onstage, we began our pas de deux. Midway, Mick lifted me high overhead. From this elevated view, I could see all the way out to the furthest tiers of the theater’s seating. Little ovals of light punctuated the darkness throughout, reflections of people’s eyeglasses, that right then seemed mystical. Like miniature celestial beings. Fairies. Spirits of the departed.

Spirits like my dad.

Please, God, not Mom, too.

Mick’s grip on my hip tightened, letting me know I’d hesitated a millisecond too long. I lowered my gaze, straightened my body and slid down his, making up speed so that I ended en pointe, in arabesque, right in time with the music.

My focus returned. Mick’s hands, sure and supportive, guided me through the trickier passages, and now I was able to remain in the zone, where only the dance mattered. Even my mom’s situation faded to a different sphere of existence.

Oh, to stay in this place forever.

When my dad died, he’d been weak, the cancer winning after a protracted battle. My mom and I had seen his death coming, watched it grow closer, step by ominous step, and yet, when the end came, it managed to surprise us all. In retrospect, it was as if he’d harvested a burst of energy to offer me one last gift, an illusion of well-being, so that I’d remember that delightful day, his warm smile, his lucid, even witty banter, and not the memory of his decline, that gaunt, bony face, his body as light as a boy’s, all bones and sinew and mottled skin. From Omaha, I’d flown back to New York City, confident I could finish the ABT’s current performance run and return home four days later. But he’d gone into cardiac arrest and passed away the next evening, precisely at curtain time. He’d died at age 74; my mom currently was only 65. She was supposed to have been the one to last long, like her own mother, living into her nineties, and like her three older sisters, still going strong in their late 70s. She wasn’t supposed to die. She hadn’t yet, I reminded myself sternly, as my plane departed that evening from New York with a shuddering roar.

Strokes could be managed.

Except that upon arrival at the hospital early the next morning, I learned a second, worse stroke had robbed my mother of most of her speech and right-side movements. Numbed by fatigue and the newest bad news, I pulled the chair close to my mom’s bed and sat. It was dim in the room, weak morning light filtering through the half-closed shades. The cool, sterile air and mysterious noises of the ICU

ward both soothed and jarred me.

My mom stirred finally. I reached over and took her thin, frail hand, its skin only now starting to speckle with age. Her golden-brown hair, its color and thickness in earlier years identical to my own, was now liberally laced with silver, but still long, in its customary braid. My mom had never been one to follow fashion trends, and her long braid remained eternal proof.

“I’m here, Mom.” I tried to sound confident, matter of fact. “I love you.”

In response, she clutched my hand. Her eyes transmitted all the feelings she couldn’t express through words. Anxiety. Fear.

“Don’t worry,” I soothed. “It’s okay. I’m here now. How about some more light in here?” Without waiting for her response, I adjusted the blinds. I spied a hospital toiletries bag that held the essentials—toothbrush and paste, comb and brush—and gestured to it. “Why don’t I brush your hair? Redo the braid. That would be nice, I’m thinking.”

The action of gently unbraiding and plowing the brush’s plastic bristles through her hair seemed to relax us both. As I brushed, I told her about the latest goings on at the studios, the theater, light-hearted foibles and adventures in my life as a New York ballet professional.

She always loved hearing my stories, first and foremost, before bringing the conversation around to how things were in Omaha. I described the challenging yet fun lifts Anders Gunst was incorporating into the new ballet he was setting on Vincent, Natalia and me. “Anders is the co-artistic director of Dance Theatre of Brussels, but he used to be our colleague at the ABT. A principal, like Vincent, except he’s younger, only twenty-nine. Latest news, though, is that Anders has been selected to take over directorship of the West Coast Ballet Theatre in San Francisco. That’s huge! Did I mention he’s Danish? You can’t tell when he talks—he speaks perfect English.” I knew I was chattering and that she couldn’t possibly follow everything, but I also knew it would upset her more if I treated her like the dangerously unwell patient she was. Best to converse as I always did. “The West Coast Ballet Theatre is a big company,” I continued cheerily. “Nothing like New York, of course, but still.

Anders is dynamite. I was so proud he picked me for his new ballet, alongside Vincent and Natalia. Those two are really good. It’s going to be fantastic—I can’t wait for you to see the performance in the spring.”

My mom made a muffled groaning sound. I stopped brushing to look at her face. The slack nature of her right eyelid, the way her mouth drooped on the right side, seemed more pronounced now.

She clearly wanted to speak, but was having trouble getting words out.

“Mmmgh. Rrrrg.”

I studied her, mystified.

My mom’s body tensed. “Sssss. Sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” I repeated, and the anxiety in my mother’s eyes lessened.

“Mom, don’t be sorry. About anything. Please.”

What had I been thinking, bringing up the performance, the future?

“Ssss. Nnnn fmmm.” My mom still wanted to speak. It became like a macabre game of charades.

Sorry? Sorry no foam? Okay. Sounds like film? No, like fan. Like fam.

Family? Yes, family! Sorry no family.

After a minute of this, I finally figured it out. “You’re sorry that I’ll have no family once you’re gone.”

Bingo. Her straining body slumped back into the pillows.

“Oh, Mom. Whatever happens, I’ll be okay. Please don’t worry.

I have the company—they’re my family. I’ve known them, spent so much time with them. For eight years now.

“And there’s Vincent,” I continued. “Who knows? Dancers frequently marry dancers. They spend so much time together, and all, and understand the life of a performing professional. Maybe someday, Vincent and I…” I stopped. The words sounded absurd, even to my ears. My mother tried to speak again, and this time her words were clear and easy to understand.

“Nnnn. Not. Him.”

Which hurt to hear. I’d brought Vincent home the previous summer, certain my mother would be as dazzled as everyone else. He was a star, after all, as an ABT principal. And even though he was a little too aware of his good looks, and, okay, a little too flashy, I firmly believed Vincent was a good person, deep down. He’d grown up in working-class Ohio, and although he scorned his roots and considered himself a New Yorker at heart, I saw that humbler, likeable boy in him from time to time. I would have thought my mom had seen that, too. But looking at her expression now, I could tell Vincent had not won her over.

A memory from last night reinserted itself back into my brain.

Seeing, from across the stage, Natalia standing close to Vincent, all but pressing against him. Vincent not moving away. And while rehearsing Anders’ new ballet the previous week: watching Vincent and Natalia as he flung her up, caught her, cradled her tenderly, reluctant to let go.

The chemistry, the abandon the two of them had exhibited—I’d assumed it was simply great dancing by two brilliant dancers.

The instant the darker idea arose, I dismissed it. Vincent was not just my lover but my friend. He’d resist the advances of someone like Natalia, already notorious as a man-eater type who discarded as freely as she acquired. Vincent was smarter than that.

And yet.

Stop being paranoid, I commanded myself. “Why don’t I read to you?” I asked my mom. “Remember all the years you did that to me when I was a kid? I loved that.” I rummaged in my bag and pulled out the novel I’d brought for the plane. “I know Jane Eyre is pretty old fashioned, but for some reason, I’ve had an appetite for the classics of late.”

She made a noise of assent and I began to read.

Disruptions abounded. Doctors made their rounds, offering prognoses that boiled down to a “wait and watch.” Nurses and assistants bustled in and out. When a nurse returned to attend to my mother around eleven o’clock, I slipped away to the bathroom, to wash my face and comb my hair, apply moisturizer, niceties I hadn’t considered since leaving the theater the night before. The nurse left and silence fell over the room. The peace was short-lived. I was applying lip gloss when I heard my aunts arrive.

Aunts Irma and Sally. Much older than my mother, they had grandchildren closer to my age than their own children. The extended family had been kind enough to me, the “caboose” niece, just as my own mom had been the caboose of four daughters, born twelve years after the other three. But she and I remained oddities within the family. My mom had been a spinster, a mild-mannered librarian who’d shocked all by courting and marrying my dad, an older physics professor, in scandalously short time. I was born ten months later, when she was a month shy of forty-one. Add my early signs of talent as a ballet dancer, my elite training far from home, my father’s eccentric brilliance, and this completed the image of differentness for our little family of three. I made the effort to spend time with extended family whenever I visited Omaha, especially after my dad’s death, but visits and events were more dutiful than pleasurable. Like an interrogation, albeit one with refreshments, everyone eyeing me warily.

I was about to call out a hello to my aunts through the closed door when Aunt Sally spoke.

“I see she hasn’t arrived yet.”

They were talking about me. I looked down at my travel bag, there in the bathroom with me. My coat and purse had been stowed away, out of view, to keep the hospital room neat.

“She was performing when I called,” Aunt Irma replied. “It was late. She probably took the morning flight out.”

“It’s approaching noon, and still no sight of her.”

“Maybe she took a later flight so she could sleep in,” Aunt Irma suggested.

Silence. I could almost see them eyeing each other in mutual disapproval. They were Nebraska women, farm-raised, hard-working, plain-spoken. They thought what I did for a profession was all glamour and frivolity.

“Priorities.” Aunt Sally allowed a note of scorn to creep into the lone word.

A snort from Aunt Irma seemed to echo the sentiment.

A wave of new weariness and sorrow came over me. My aunts were good people; they would be mortified once they realized I was in the room, overhearing them. But what they’d revealed couldn’t be unheard.

I sucked in a slow breath, reached over, and flushed the toilet.

The conversation stopped.

I ran the water faucet, a pantomime of washing, pulling a paper towel as if to dry my hands. And now the conversation outside the bathroom took on a fake brightness, so that when I stepped out, we greeted each other with exclamations, awkward hugs and pecks on the cheek. We all marveled aloud at how good the other looked, and other polite falsehoods that you did to maintain pleasant family relations, but through it all, I felt the aching truth behind my mother’s concern.

You’ll have no family once I’m gone.

The three of us grew silent as we studied my mother. She looked worse; her cheeks had taken on a greyish pallor, casting doubt on any illusion of a positive end result. Terror flared up in me again, a breath-stealing child’s fear at the prospect of losing my last parent.

Aunt Irma turned to me, her expression kinder. “You’ve been here a while?”

“Since eight o’clock.”

“Poor dear,” Aunt Sally said, her sympathy genuine. “That’s early.

You must be exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“Why don’t you go get yourself something to eat?” Aunt Irma said. “There’s that Denny’s, less than a block away. It’s much better than the cafeteria downstairs. We’ll be here with your mom.”

“Thanks, that’s a good idea. I won’t be long.”

“Take your time. Your mom isn’t going anywhere.”

The brisk Omaha air made me wrap my coat more tightly around myself, but the walk to the restaurant served to ground me. All physical motion did. It always had, since my earliest memory of dancing in the living room, any time my dad put on one of his classical recordings, which was almost every evening. Leaping around in the backyard by day whenever my mom ordered me outside to

“burn off that incessant energy of yours.” One time I’d politely announced to the extended family that “my incessant energy exhausts my mother.” I’d been three and a half at the time, and, according to my mom, everyone had stared at me as if the doll I’d been clutching had done the speaking.

“Those are some big words from such a little girl,” Aunt Irma had managed, and my librarian mother had nodded with pride.

I was hungry; I’d had no time for dinner the previous night in my haste to catch my flight. I ordered a plate crowded with two kinds of breakfast meat, two kinds of carbs, a mass of eggs. It was dense, greasy and satisfying. Once I’d finished, I spied a payphone and glanced at my watch. Good time to call the ABT, to update them. I called and spoke with Ron, the associate artistic director, relayed the situation, and afterward asked about Vincent’s whereabouts. Ron had someone pull him from his rehearsal and put him on the line.

“Sweetie, how are you?” Vincent exclaimed. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“I’m okay. My mom’s hanging in there. Critical, but stable. My aunts are with her right now.”

“How soon are you coming back?”

“I honestly don’t know. If her condition deteriorates, that’s a different scenario from if she stabilizes and improves. I told Ron I’d touch base as soon as I knew more.”

“Good. Good. Stay as long as you need to.”

Was it my imagination or did he sound relieved? Something about it rang false. Even when my father was dying, Vincent had cautioned me to “watch how much time you take off,” because it came around to affect your reputation with the artistic director, the choreographers, the répétiteurs.

Vincent hesitated. He nervously cleared his throat before speaking again.

“There’s something you should know. It’s about Natalia.”

My body grew still. Please don’t let this be that he’s leaving me for her. The possibility, indeed, the probability overwhelmed me, choked me of a reply. “What?” I managed.

“She got promoted to principal after last night’s performance.”

An instant of relief was eclipsed by a great roar of disappointment, even though I’d seen it coming. I knew the odds had favored Natalia.

That they would always favor the Russian defector who dazzled audiences and made them clamor for more. The Bolshoi dancers were impossible to compete with. In spite of Natalia’s youth—she’d just turned twenty—from the day of her arrival at the ABT the previous season, the writing had been on the proverbial wall.

It would always be this way at the ABT. I would forever remain soloist rank there, a prospect that would have filled me with happiness and comfort four years earlier, as a corps de ballet dancer starved for something bigger.

“Wow.” I didn’t know what else to say, how to best sum up this feeling of terrible news atop catastrophic news.

But this still didn’t explain Vincent. He loved sharing thrilling, titillating news, even if it was painful for the listener to hear.

“Is that why you’re relieved I’m not there?” I blurted out, surprising even myself.

“What are you talking about?” he stammered.

My suspicion built. “I can tell. I know you.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say! I’m worried about you. I’m worried about how you’re coping, there in the hospital, with your dying mother.”

“She’s not dying.” My voice shook.

Vincent fell silent, and in his silence came the painful truth.

Yes, she is. Your mother is dying.

I brushed away the terrifying thought. “Did you and Natalia go right out and celebrate her good news?”

“April! What is going on with you?”

How stupid of me, to have opened this Pandora’s box, during this most vulnerable time. Had I kept my mouth shut, my suspicions unvoiced, I could have glossed right over this uncomfortable supposition and left it there, throbbing in the outer recesses of my mind. Instead, now, there it was. The chill of the hallway where the payphones were located made me start to shiver, spasms that increased in intensity until I wasn’t sure how long I could remain there, holding onto the phone, staring at the tightly spiraled chrome cord that connected Vincent’s voice to my ear.

“I am so worried about you,” Vincent was saying. “You’re not sounding like yourself. Should I come out? I’ll tell them this is an emergency. Vasilio can take the final performance. You need me there.”

I remained mute. To conjure up further dialogue, with its tricky twists and invisible side avenues seemed beyond my abilities.

“April?”

“I don’t need you.”

“Well, gee, thanks.” He sounded hurt.

“I’m sorry. I mean, I don’t need you to come here. But thank you for offering.”

“You’re welcome. I care.”

“Thank you.”

“By the way,” he said, his usual buoyant tone instantly replacing the hurt one. “Anders came backstage last night after the show. He was looking for you.”

Could anything worse happen on this terrible day? “I hope he’s not planning to pull me from his ballet.”

“Of course not, silly! Don’t give that a second thought.”

This time, at least, his words sounded truthful, unrehearsed.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t about trying to poach you,”

Vincent mused. “He already hit me with a request to join him in San Francisco.” Here, he chuckled. “Don’t go doing that, April. Sid Hauser was artistic director there for way too long, way past his prime. And since he left, the West Coast Ballet Theatre has been this sinking ship. They may have some strong dancers, but they’ve got issues far beyond what our young Anders Gunst can handle. They literally ran Sid’s replacement out of town. The guy resigned, in the middle of last year’s Nutcracker run, and the dancers themselves took over. So messed up. You can bet Anders wants dancers he knows and can trust. But if he fails, any dancer he brought over will go right down with him.”

The thought made me wince. “I thought you liked Anders.”

“I love the guy! He’s amazing. His choreography is fresh and superlative. He and Sabine are doing great things with their Brussels company. He’s young; if I were him, I’d stay put, right there, for another three to five years, and only then consider something like the West Coast Ballet Theatre. That is, if it hasn’t gone under.”

“Did you tell Anders where I was?”

“I did. He was very kind about it. Asked me to extend his condolences. Said not to worry, that he’d get in touch with you once you were back in New York.”

The mention of New York, of Anders and his support, calmed me. I still had this—a soloist position with one of the best dance companies in the world. A choreographer and artistic director of rising power who believed in my talents. My art. My cloistered world in NYC.

Why did it all have to come with the price tag of losing my family?

“Look, I’ve got to run,” Vincent said. “Rehearsal.”

“Sure. I’m glad I caught you.”

“Me too. Love you, sweetie. Talk soon.”

“Love you, too. Bye.”

I paid my bill and returned to the hospital. In the ICU, I trudged down the hushed, ghostly corridor to my mother’s room. Aunt Sally was alone there with my mother, who, in her sleep, looked more dead than alive. Fear clutched at my heart and didn’t let go.

Aunt Sally looked up as I approached. Her smile was less determinedly optimistic. It dawned on me that I’d never seen my aunt look discouraged before.

“Where’s Aunt Irma?” I asked.

“She went for a coffee downstairs,” Aunt Sally said.

We stood there, watching the slight rise and fall of my mother’s chest as the machines nearby hissed and sucked. Atop the beige blanket, one frail hand rested, which I covered with my own. My mother didn’t stir.

“Everything all right, back there in New York?” Aunt Sally asked finally.

I paused to consider the question. “Things will turn out as they should,” I said, and was rewarded by an approving nod from my aunt.

“There you go. That’s the attitude.”

“What’s going to happen next?”

It was a rhetorical question, one I didn’t realize I’d vocalized until Aunt Sally nodded and pointed to me, as if my words had taken form and affixed themselves to my chest.

“Things will turn out as they should.”

About Terez:

Terez Mertes Rose is a writer and former ballet dancer whose work has appeared in the Crab Orchard Review, Literary Mama, Women Who Eat (Seal Press), A Woman’s Europe (Travelers’ Tales), the Philadelphia Inquirer and the San Jose Mercury News. She reviews dance performances for Bachtrack.com and blogs about ballet and classical music at The Classical Girl. The author of the Ballet Theatre Chronicles and A Dancer's Guide to Africa, she makes her home with family in the Santa Cruz Mountains. She loves good food, good wine, great books, and a good (but not too hard) adult ballet class. She's proud to announce that Outside the Limelight, Book 2 of the Ballet Theatre Chronicles, was named a Best Book of 2017 by Kirkus Reviews.

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Tour Schedule:

Week One:

1/4/2021

JaimeRockstarBookTours

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1/5/2021

BookHounds

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1/6/2021

Jaime's World

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1/7/2021

Two Chicks on Books

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1/8/2021

I'm Shelf-ish

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Week Two:

1/11/2021

She Just Loves Books

Review

1/12/2021

Pick a good book

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1/13/2021

Hurn Publications

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1/14/2021

Fire and Ice

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1/15/2021

Lisa Loves Literature

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Week Three:

1/18/2021

Books and Zebras @jypsylynn

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1/19/2021

The Obsessed Reader

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1/20/2021

Books a Plenty Book Reviews

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1/21/2021

Books A-Brewin'

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1/22/2021

@more_books_yes_please_

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Week Four:

1/25/2021

Three gals and plenty of books

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1/26/2021

@minnesota_mailer

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1/27/2021

Jotted by Jena

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1/28/2021

Pine Enshrined Reviews

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1/29/2021

Two Points of Interest

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futurewriter2000 · 6 years

Text

My comments while watching Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

Holy holy holy holy shiiitttt

HarryYYYY POTAHH

Dumbldore you sneaky old man 😏

PROFESOR SLUGHORN !!! Not a big fan of him but I do love the actor

Regulus…………….LOVE HIM ❤

I FORGOT THE WEASLEY TWINS ARE NOT IN HOGWARTS 😭😭😭

They’re still so hot and cute and I love them and i want to hug them and never let go because FRED 😭❤

Snape, snape, SEVERUS SNAPE and his amazing performance to be faithful to the dark lord 👌

Tf is Draco going…I forgot about this part

Draco is so cute…I love Tom Felton❤

Fucking commercial are taking longer than the movie…

CU CUU BITCHES TROUBAAALS COMING BACK TO HOGWARTSSS

shit I love Luna so much

BECAUSE HE IS A DEATHEATER BUT ONLY BECAUSE OF HIS FATHER! HARRY STOP ACCUSING PEOPLE !YOU STUPID!

Pansy………….

Draco smart Draco PUNCH KICK PUNCH… Thats for eavesdropping Harry..Stupid

‘Nice face Potter!“ ohh Draco and your insults…fucking gotta love him

I wish I had as big as apetite as Ron…oh wait…i do….

Its so funny that Tom Riddle is translated into Mark Neelstin in my language and Voldemort into Mrlakenstein….

SHIT MCGONNGAL I FUCKING LOVE HER SO MUCHHH “Pottah, take Weasley with you, he looks far to happy over there.” yasss my fav line

FELIX FELICIS…really why do they even translate it..the translation is terrible

Hermoine is so confused that Harry’s better than her…i love her…poor Hermoine..you’re smart Hermoine

Dumbldore you sneaky old man 😏😏

Dumbldore with short hair…MAKE A MAN BUN!! I WANT A MAN BUN ON DUMBLDORE!!!

The time Dumbldore told Tom Riddle he’s a wizard and fucked up the whole world 👏👏

DRACO AGAIN❤❤ i just want to give him a hug..he doesnt deserve this

FUCK COMMERCIALS…ALWAYS WHEN DRACO COMES ON….

NOOOOOOOOOO I MISSED IT…thats for going to the bathroom to pee…fuck…

GO RON YOU GOT THIS…PROTECT THAT HOOP RONALD

“The binding is fragile.” Harry has the best excuses in the world…Great liar might I say 👌👌

Shit thats creepy…HAGRID TO SAVE THE DAY… i always imagined Katie Bell as a blonde….

How can you translate Severus to Rebeus

STOP BLAMING DRACO HARRY! God if you have no proof than dont do it.

“She’s got nice skin.” LMAO HARRY 😂😂

Harry is so funny at the scene where Hermoine says her parents are dentist and Harry is like all smiley and stuff just so adorable

“I’m sorry sir. Forgive me. He killed my parents.” aren’t you just a smooth talker Harry…seriously…

GO GINNY !!!!!!! THIS IS THE BEST QUIDDITCH MATCH I HAVE EVER SEEN!

Its time to be a big brother now Harry..Hermoine needs you

I see you Draco Malfoy 😉😉

Im so happy Harry thinks Luna is a cool person BECAUSE SHE IS

I cringe at the translation *facepalm*

I bet youre proud Harry for making Cormac puke on Snape…I saw your smug face 😂😂

Draco is so cute when hes angry…so adorable.

All he wants to do is make Lucious proud pleaseeeee dont make him suffer

Co co co mercialssss

FRED AND GEORGE

Shiiiiiiiittt MOOOOOONNNNNNYYYYYY YAIAAIAIIAIAIAIAIAIA 🙌🙌🙌🙌

TONKS ❤❤❤❤

No mom..the movie is still not over

BELATRIX is so wicked…bad…but wicked

HARRY YOU ARE SO STUPID SHE WANTS YOU TO RUN AFTER HER!!!

Run remus run!

Kill the bitch who killed your boyfriend

NOOOOOO THE BURROWWWW 😭molly

What happened to the guy who played Tom Riddle in Chamber of Secrets…i prefered him

Dumbldore you sneaky old man 😏

Snape translated to Raws..just…oh god

Yes he did and Harry you are a terrible spy..cant believe Slughorn didnt find out this sooner

Oh the awkwardnes and Dumbledores comments to break the awkward silence

HOTIE HERE HOTIE THERE DRACO MALFOY EVERYWHERE 🙌🙌

He looks sooo good in a vest 😏

No harry! NO! LEAVE HIM ALONE! DONT YOU DARE HARRY! NO! Fuck you harry! Good thing i’ll know he’ll survive or i would kill you myself…fuck Voldemort I would just throw a rock in your face

Thank you snape for saving my baby…honestly Harry I love you but you’re just so stupid

Why did my dad come home..im still in my pijamas….

This is where the awkward kiss happens…shit..shit…i hate those cringey scenes

lmaoo my dad brought an empty bowl of cookies ..moving on to the movie

NO MOM THE MOVIE IS STILL NO OVER!”

lmaooo Harry being high on Felix Felicis and Slughorn taking Aragorg poison while Hagrid is grieving is so funny…I love this movie

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO LILLY GAVE HIM FRANCIS THE FISH OH MY LORD ITS SO SADDD

Not so sneaky now are we Dumbldore 😏😏 Didn’t see that coming

Dumbldore he’s 17 can’t you take Snape or McGonngal … Honestly..

But like….just before you die…can’t you make a man bun…just…my dying wish is to see you in a man bun Dumby

Dumbldore is dead….no man bun for me

I hate the last three parts cuz they are soo saaadddd

Okay I’m done..im going to cry now bc its not fair.

R.A.B- Regulus Arcturus Black….im gonna name my son that

#hp and the half blood prince

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tornrose24 · 6 years

Text

Three worded password (A CU Portal AU oneshot)

There’s a hidden test subject in the facility and George and Harold have no clue that three strange discoveries are they key to her freedom.

There’s a lot to discover when you have two sets of portal guns, two naturally curious and determined but easily bored boys, and a sadistic maniac forcing you to do test after test without stopping. The sterile look of Aperture Labs will eventually get to you and you will welcome any change of color besides the dull monochromes and blues and oranges.

George and Harold managed to ‘ruin’ another test as an act of defiance against Krupp to the point that they could hear him screaming and throwing a terrific tantrum in his domain, which meant he was not focusing on them. They took their chance to use the portal guns to sneak up into what appeared to be another hidden area that was barely in view. Careful aiming and timing granted the boys a brief moment of freedom and a new area to explore.

“It’s like you’re trying to give me a headache! WHICH IS WORKING!” They could still hear Krupp’s projected voice. “I’m going to explode from a headache no thanks to you two! And then you’re going to have ‘committed a murder via headache induced by stupid reckless behavior’ on your files!”

The boys just laughed and continued on their way into the secret room. But upon entering it, they stopped laughing when they saw what was on the wall.

Painted upon the wall was a mural of a stick figure in some sort of strange metal and glass container. Whoever made it was a terrible artist and made Harold look like Rembrandt.

“Huh, wonder what it is.” George stated as he and Harold looked at it. “Hey... have I seen that before?” George struggled to think as Harold continued looking at the image, but nothing happened to make them remember.

Harold turned his head and saw something written on the side wall next to the mural. “‘George, look.” He pointed to the message.

“‘Can’t use this test subject.’” George read the frantic, yet desperate message. “‘No matter what, can not use it. Too valuable. Not fit for testing. Don’t let him free the subject.’” The last part had a line drawn under it for emphasis, followed by ‘save subject!!!’

“George, is there... you don’t think there’s another test subject like us in Aperture?” Harold nervously asked. “I thought we’re the only ones. Krupp said so.”  “Krupp says anything.” George pointed out before noticing another message. “Azure skies, denim jeans, sapphire seas, cobalt space, cerulean oceans, robin’s egg... what do we all have in common?”

“Ok, now this is getting weird.” George shook his head. “Some weirdo must have made this.”

Harold stared at the message and tried to think. What did these things all have in common? He struggled to think–he barely remembered what a sky was supposed to look like. He didn’t know what a robin’s egg was. Sapphire... that was a jewel right? It almost reminded him of when the portal gun produced a certain colored portal–

“Blue!” Harold exclaimed. “These are all just another way of saying blue!”

“Really?” George was impressed before frowning. “But that still doesn’t make sense.”

“WHERE ARE YOU BRATS?! IF YOU GONE AND KILLED YOURSELF, THEN IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT NOT MINE!”

The boys gave each other a knowing look and sighed. It was time to head back.

They didn’t think too much of that until they found another room. Krupp had been distracted once again and they took their freedom as fast as they could.

They were happy to get a chance to rest–only to find the same mural of a figure in that container and it was just as bad as the last one.

“Again?” Harold raised an eyebrow at this as George read the message.

“‘Couldn’t save you in time, I should have told you to leave me. Now you’re stuck here in this nightmare with me. Can’t expect forgiveness. Can’t trust myself–too cowardly to risk it. I’m going to burn for this one day.’”

“Seriously, who made these?” Harold shuddered before George read the message at the bottom.

“‘Friends are a pair, splitting leads to twins, a team is a duo, lovebirds are a couple, eight minus six is–’” The rest was a blank.

George thought about this message and raised his hands up to count down with his fingers. “Eight minus six....” He paused and thought as he counted down his fingers with each one going down.

“Two.” He looked up. “This message is talking about twos.”

“So it’s like how that last message and all the things in it had something in common with each other.” Harold thought.

They both didn’t think too much on it and sat down to rest for a few minutes.

By the time they found the third hidden room, they were more than sure that Krupp was feeding them lies.

They didn’t remember anything before they woke up as if their lives had been a blank. Despite whatever Krupp told them (that their parents abandoned them, that the world outside was a wasteland filled with useless, stupid people, that all they were good for was for testing and not drawing or telling stories) they had a feeling it was all a lie long before they figured it out. Much like the promise of freedom that they craved for than anything.

He was making it point clear that he would be keeping them locked up in this awful, boring place, no matter how many tests they had done, and he wouldn’t say why other than “Because I say so!” when pushed too far. Also the ‘tests’ were getting worse to the point that both boys had been pushed beyond their limits and were almost shot by turrets that were shaped more like toilets (to which the pain in their neck admitted that he didn’t know why they were designed like that, but they were a metaphor waiting to be used on the two if they didn’t hurry it up).

The only consolation they had was each other, and it was getting to the point that Krupp was noticing. The tests had less cooperation involved then usual. It was only a matter of time...

Both boys were sweaty, dirty, and George had a hole in his t-shirt from a close call by one of the turrets when they came upon this room. Once again the same mural greeted them along with another strange message.

“I want to see you again. I can’t see you again. No, too dangerous. Must forget these locations before the itch comes on. I want to see your smile and hear your voice.”

The boys didn’t bother to read the other message until they rested up for a few minutes and were too exhausted to even talk. Harold took out a small, but strange gray-white sphere with a blue light in it that he and George found earlier and tossed it in his hands for a bit while George stared up at the ceiling and tried to imagine life before this (he could barely make out two faces in the haze) before either of them looked at the next cryptic message.

“Will I ever again see the sky? Would I ever know what it’s like to fly? Perhaps it’d be better if I die? Perhaps the end is nigh. I hear myself sigh. Did I make her cry? Sometimes I ask myself ‘why?’ All they told us was a lie. They away so much, including my–”

Under the bizarre poem was a series of words to chose from and to fill in the blank space for the last line. This time both boys figured out what the missing word was within a few moments.

“Eye.” Harold pointed to the word in the word bank.

“Yup, it’s ‘eye.’” George agreed before grimacing. “They... took away my eye?”

“George this is freaking me out.” Harold shuddered. “Let’s leave this place.”

“Hang on a minute.” George turned to Harold. “What was the point of these puzzles? How does this relate to a missing subject? And how come Krupp never mentioned it?”

“Maybe he doesn’t know about it.” Harold thought over this. “We should mention it to him next time–”

 “No.” George denied. “I have a feeling he shouldn’t know. Especially if there’s something we don’t know.”

Harold hummed as he traced his fingers against some lettering on the sphere: ‘Intelligence Dampening Sph–’ the rest had been rubbed off. Had he known that the object was going to be one of many keys to freedom, he would have treated it with more care.

Neither boy would be able to solve the mystery anytime soon–especially when they finally confronted their tormentor in his domain and saw him face to face. He almost looked more machine than man though being connected to multiple cables and wires woven through a mechanical ‘throne’ thanks to what appeared to be ports scattered across his back and in the back of his head. One quarter of his face was seemingly taken over by a white and black thing with some sort of yellow optic where one eye should have been (forcing him to see in binary, numbers, and the world around him in yellow monochrome, alongside what his more human-like eye could see).

Especially when he tricked them into destroying the morality core shoved into his chest via a nearby incinerator–the very thing that forced him to follow ‘their’ rules and regulations and not lash out, no matter what the name implied–which he himself could not, thanks to a restraint that had been forced into his mentality. Now he was at the point that he didn’t care if the boys lived or died (for whatever happened to them would be revenge upon their parents for not stopping those who ran this place in time).

Especially when the boys used all they learned against him and pulled off a prank (with the help of the portals) by shoving the Intelligence Dampening Sphere into his chest where the morality core used to be. When the whole area exploded, when they found themselves gazing at the sky before an escort robot could drag them back to be put in stasis.

But they both would chose each other over freedom. They could not imagine escaping at the cost of leaving the other behind.

Soon they’d be awakened at some point later on by a cheerful face who was both familiar and not quite. A face with a slightly altered appearance with a blue light in his eye and a familiar sphere shoved into his chest.

It was only after a few hours of exploration, a moment of revenge by taking the core in and out of their new friend to turn him back to his old self with each removal, that they would come upon a familiar sight.

The boys were now in a unique area filled with stasis chambers and these ones were different. Located in a small room that seemed surprisingly well cared for, these chambers were all familiar to them–they were the chambers that were depicted in the murals that once puzzled the boys, yet only one was occupied.

“George, look!” Harold pulled his friend to look at this particular chamber. A woman in her very late twenties to early-or-mid-thirties was sleeping inside, with dark hair covering half of a face that had a light sprinkle of freckles, and she was dressed in a dark pink dress with an apron bearing the Aperture logo across her chest. There also seemed to be handprint smudges upon the outside of glass that sealed her in, but the boys were drawn to what was smack dab on the middle of the container.

It looked like a keyboard with letters and numbers with a screen on it.

“I guess there was someone down here after all!” George exclaimed as he and Harold didn’t know whether to be excited or horrified for the sleeping woman’s sake.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Harold then went up to the keyboard and tried pressing something to see what would happen. The screen flashed red colored words against the black screen in response.

‘SUBJECT WILL ONLY AWAKEN FROM STASIS UPON ENTERING THE CORRECT THREE WORDED PASSWORD. TYPE IN PASSWORD TO AWAKEN SUBJECT. PRESS ENTER’ FOR EACH WORD.’ The screen then displayed a blinking red bar.

“Oh wow,” Harold grimaced as he looked at George. “I have no clue what that could be.”

“Aperture Science... Labs?” George suggested and typed it in.

‘ERROR.’

“Ok, not that one.” George shook his head.

“Cake is lie?” Harold typed in, only to be greeted with ‘ERROR’.

“Dance banana dance?”

“Krupp’s a jerk?”

“Furry taco shell?”

“Lemons are explosive?”

“Wicked wedgie woman?”

“Potato powered battery?”

“Bird’s the word?”

Each one was met with an ‘ERROR.’

“ARGH!” George threw his hands in the air. “It could be anything!” He and Harold struggled to think of the possible passwords in addition to wondering why it had to be so hard to awaken the woman inside.

“Wait a minute.” Harold thought back to the murals and how this chamber looked like the ones that were depicted upon the walls. “Remember those murals from awhile ago? I think they might have to do with this. There were three in total–”

“They were giving us the password!” George caught on and his eyes sparkled. “Those messages must have been giving us the answers!”

Harold struggled to recount. “The first one listed different kinds of blue... one of the words is ‘blue.’”

“Ok, ok,” George thought. “The second one was the use of two... the answer was ‘two!’”

“And then the last one was a poem.” Harold struggled harder. “What were the words used? Fly, lie, cry, sigh– eye! The word was ‘eye!’”

“Blue... two... eye...” George thought on this. “Eye... two... blue... two blue... eye... No if there was more then one it would need to be ‘eyes’ not ‘eye.’”

“Well, lets give it a shot.” Harold was optimistic and steeped aside to let George type it in. He nervously typed each word in (the words that spelled out ‘two blue eyes’) and after pressing enter one last time, dots appeared on the screen and he stepped back towards Harold.

There was a click and the lettering became green. ‘PASSWORD ACCEPTED. AWAKENING SUBJECT.’ The screen said to the joy of the boys who felt victorious at the accomplishment.

A blast of hair blew into the woman and made her clothes ripple before the door swung open. Whatever kept her suspended mid air vanished and made her collapse into a crumble upon the floor.

“Quickly, let’s get her out!” Harold rushed to her aid and with the help of George, they got the woman out as fast as they could. She was heavy, but they managed to get her out with much care.

“We did it!” George cried out when they rested the woman on the floor.

“We did!” Harold exclaimed as the woman began to stir. “We–she’s waking up!” He freaked out as the woman’s eyelids began to flutter open, revealing a striking set of the bluest eyes that the two had ever seen.

“Hey, are you ok?” Harold knelt beside the woman who was struggling with wakening up.

“Where... am...” She voice was weak from lack of use as she tried to look at the two. “Ben.” Her voice became urgent. “Where... where’s Ben... where....?” She pleaded.

“Hey guys, what’s taking so long?!” A cheerful voice from down a hallway asked.

The woman could see that the boys panicked a little at the sound of the voice. “Do you think we should–?” Harold asked.

“As long as we don’t take the sphere out of him.” George turned to the woman. “Hey it’s ok, we’ll get you out of here!” He promised her.

“No...” The woman felt sleep coming over her. “Ben..jamin... they still have...”

The woman heard someone charging down the hallway and she couldn’t get her eyes to open when Harold called out. “We need you to help carry someone!”

The woman then slipped in and out of consciousness as she thought she heard a somewhat familiar voice talking to the boys. The last thing she recalled before falling back to sleep was someone–a man, she guessed–picking her up and gently cradling her in his arms. She was close enough to fell his heart beat and the last thing she could make out when she opened her eyes a crack was something blue on his chest before the darkness took over again.

The woman was fine for now and would soon wake up. Unfortunately for her and the boys, her rescuers did something they probably shouldn’t have done–awoken the test subject that Krupp had wanted to awaken for a very long time.

Just not while the addiction to test was still a part of him.

-The itch is also known as the ‘urge to test’ in Portal 2. I combined what I knew of both games for this one. I don’t intend on making a full on fan fic (plus I have some things that need to be finished, like the Corpse Bride AU). But it would be a good AU to revisit. Also, now you know what the password is. :)

#captain underpants #cu portal au #george beard #harold hutchins #mr. krupp #principal krupp #edith the lunch lady #egg casserole #kruppxedith

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