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clefaiiiry · 2 months

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New Heights, New Depths

more bottom / sub sett agenda

the working title for this was 'wham bam thank you ma'am' just because i thought it was funny

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-~*~-

How did he let K’Sante rope him into this?

“Nu-uh, this was your idea!” K’Sante says.

Sett digs in his heels. “Well, maybe for once in my life I had a shitty idea-”

“C’mon, you keep saying you wanna try it,” K’Sante says, all but dragging him down the street.

“Sure, yeah, but there is a huge difference between talking about doing it and actually doing it, ya know?”

K’Sante waves to a guy as they reach the doors and he hauls Sett over the threshold. “Just trust me. Try it once and if you hate it then, hey, at least you gave it a shot.”

He’s right, and he hates when K’Sante is right. He’s always so smug about it. Sett can already hear him now, ‘see? You just gotta push out of your comfort zone!’

If his comfort zone is staying at home watching baking show reruns, then a BDSM club was probably the furthest away he could get.

Part of him regrets asking K’Sante what the deal was with that necklace he never took off. A day collar, he’d called it, from Yone. That opened a whole goddamn rabbit hole and left him feeling like he was fifteen again, trying to hide his search history from his momma.

He’s had sex, has even been told he’s pretty good at it, and obviously he’s watched plenty of porn, he was a guy-

But learning how vanilla all his experience was shattered any kind of self conceptualisation he’d managed since his teenage years.

“There’s nothing wrong with vanilla,” K’Sante had said, but that shit was like Pandora’s box; once it was open Sett couldn’t leave it alone.

So now he’s here, hanging outside Targon dressed like a damn nun compared to the outfits some folks were walking in wearing. No judgement, show it off if you’ve got it and all that, he just felt very overdressed. And like a total loser.

At least he wasn’t as much of a loser as Ezreal was for staying home. Loser.

Once they get inside, K’Sante stops to chat with another friend and retrieves a little yellow wristband from the basket on the door for himself. He whistles to catch Sett’s attention and his ears swivel first before he turns.

“Hey, you’re a sub, right?”

“What if I don’t know I’m a switch yet?”

K’Sante gives him a look. “Are you being serious?” He plucks a blue wristband from the basket and tosses it to Sett. “Yellow for doms, blue for subs, green for switches.”

Sett rolls his eyes, but accepts the stupid little wristband anyways.

Initially, it looks like any other club and a pretty tame one at that. Now, Sett was nearing his thirties and hadn’t been clubbing for years, but he was struggling to remember why he enjoyed it so much. His ears flatten against his head to attempt to block out the pretty horrendous electronic crap coming through the speakers. Someone’s being hauled off the dancefloor after nearly passing out, but they still seemed to be having a good time.

He stays close to K’Sante as they pass through, heading to a heavy curtain at the back. It’s sectioned off with velvet rope, bright purple LED trimmed above the entryway. A woman stands to one side, pretending to look busy on a tablet.

“No,” she says without looking up and before K’Sante even has a chance to open his mouth.

He laughs, casual and suave as usual, leaning forward in that way that made anyone swoon. “Awh, c’mon Leo, I’ll vouch for him.”

Unfortunately for K’Sante, this woman is immune to his charms. “You know the rules,” she says, ponytail swinging as she finally meets his eyes, “he needs an application before he can come in. Really, what did you think I was going to say?”

“Look, if he gets into any trouble it’ll be on me. Please?”

“No. Because it won’t fall back on you, it’ll fall back on me.”

K’Sante groans and rubs his face. “Can I go in and find the guy I’m looking for, at least?”

“Fine,” she says, unclipping the rope and holding it to one side.

K’Sante glances back to Sett. “Get a drink, chat someone up,” he waves a hand, “I dunno, unwind a little.”

K’Sante abandons him before he can object.

Sett hovers awkwardly for a few seconds longer before he drifts off toward the bar. He leans against the counter trying to appear comfortable, like he actually knew what he was doing, though he wonders how convincing he could really be when his ears are still flat against his head. It wasn’t his fault, the bass was particularly loud in this corner.

God, what was he, sixty? Complaining about noise? Kayn was right, he really is a momma’s boy.

This should not be so-

“Good evening.”

An older woman perches on the stool beside him, swirling her drink. He thinks she’s Ottrani vastaya but honestly can’t tell, her ears just barely poking out from her fluffy hair. He notes her wristband, yellow.

“I’m urh, waiting for someone.” Smooth Sett, real smooth.

“Don’t worry, I know you’re here with K’Sante,” she says, “you just looked utterly terrified all on your lonesome.”

“What, me? Nah, I’m fine. Totally fine.”

She smirks. “Then you won’t mind if I just chat with my new friend.”

“Typically you give your friends a name.”

She places her free hand over her chest. “I’m Soraka.”

“Sett. So, you come here often?”

Conversation flows so naturally it’s quite easy to forget where he is. If not for the occasional people covered in leather heading into the VIP area, he could forget why they were actually there. Soraka’s voice is steady, warm, eases his gnawing uncertainty. She offers to buy him a drink and when he declines she only smiles, tells him everything will be fine and he honestly believes her. Is she the kind of woman Ezreal would go nuts over? Is she a milf? He's not sure if she’s old enough but he’s sure as hell not gonna ask.

They’ve probably been chatting for about twenty minutes when he spots K’Sante again, returning from the VIP area with another man. He’s a pretty thing, slim and tall, geometric ink trailing up his arms, boots landing with a heavy thunk at every step.

Then he taps at K’Sante’s shoulder to get his attention and raises his arms, hands moving rapidly.

Oh, he signs.

“And he’s not going to cause trouble?”

“He's a good guy,” he hears K’Sante say over the music, “don’t worry about it.”

The man hums, glancing over. Even in the low light, those eyes are piercing, trying to pick him apart from across the room. Sett averts his own.

“Oh, he’s setting you up with Aphelios,” Soraka huffs over the rim of her glass, “you really are after a workout, aren’t you?”

“Should I be scared?”

Soraka laughs. “Only if that’s what you’re into. He can be just a little intense, is all.”

Sett scoffs, leaning back against the bar. “I can handle intense just fine.”

She only stares at him, then finishes her drink. “Have fun,” she says, melodic and sweet, then rises to her feet and twirls away back over to the dancefloor.

Since K’Sante’s been gone, he’s managed to get glitter in his beard. Sett decides he’s better off not asking. K’Sante gestures to the man at his side as they close in.

“Sett, this is Aphelios. Aphelios, this is Settrigh.”

Sett cringes, extending his hand. “Sett is fine.”

Aphelios gives him a once over from head to toe, expression impassive, arms crossed over his chest. The moment drags with all the grace of a limping hound.

Hey buddy, wanna shake my damn hand yet? You’re only making me look like a total asshole-

Finally, he takes it with a little nod. His hand is colder than Sett expects. “A pleasure. K’Sante says you’re new to all this.”

“Ha, he’s sharing all my secrets already?” He grits out, shooting K’Sante a glance, who only shrugs.

Aphelios taps K’Sante’s shoulder, then signs, “Maybe you should book him with Soraka instead? Or Alune even.”

“No way, they ain’t got a session for weeks. Besides, you were the one mad about a cancellation.”

“Usually that’s what waiting lists are for.”

“Consider it a favour owed.”

Aphelios lets out a deep, long sigh through his nose. He closes his eyes, running a hand through his hair. He’s got a cute little cowlick that flicks back up as soon as he moves his hand away.

Then he signs, “Fine, let’s talk.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” K’Sante says with a grin, “Yone’s waitin’ in the back.” And he’s gone again. For such a huge guy, man he can move.

Yone’s here too? No wonder he’s so desperate to ditch him-

“What is it you’re looking for?” Aphelios says, leaning against the bar in a manner much too casual for the environment.

It takes him a few seconds to register that Aphelios has asked him a question. Sett shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s embarrassing-”

Aphelios scoffs. “Look where you are. Whatever you want, I’ve probably heard it before. You can’t surprise me.”

It was Sett’s turn to size him up and yeah, he could believe that. Still, verbalising it seems impossible.

“I- I wanna- I’d like to- Urgh.” He takes a breath, then forces it out. “I’m the boss all the time. Everyday, every hour- Ya know, it’s exhausting.” His ears pin back against his head and he averts his eyes. “I guess I just wanna not be the boss for a while.”

Aphelios stares at him for a moment longer, then waves to catch Soraka’s attention. He makes a vague gesture, but she understands, slipping through the crowd toward them.

“Sure,” Aphelios says, “we can figure something out.”

When Soraka gets to them, she slips a little business card into Sett’s hands with a nudge and a wink.

“Go the the website and fill in the form before-” Aphelios furrows his brows in thought for a moment. “-Friday?”

Sett huffs through his nose. “I can do Saturday.”

Aphelios lips twitch into a smile. “That works. I’ll text you.”

-~*~-

‘This form is the beginning of negotiations. Please make sure to communicate!’

‘Remember the question, “What do you mean by _____?”’

The negotiation side made the whole process way less sexy than Sett would have liked. He was expecting maybe, two pages max, but after page five this was starting to feel like it would never end.

Kink etiquette, ID checks, STI checks, yadda yadda- if he knew it was gonna be this complicated to get smacked around he would have just gotten into a street fight.

“Hey, at least it’s thorough,” K’Sante had said.

Sett only groans and continues swiping through all the options, each to be marked Yes, No, Not Sure, or Discuss Further.

Does the submissive wish to receive pain? Does the submissive wish to resist? Does the submissive wish to be restrained?

Bondage, collaring, leather, latex, gags, blindfolds, rope, chains, tape, wax-

Sett ends up marking half his answers as ‘not sure’ or ‘discuss further.’

Once it’s complete, Aphelios sends him a text the following evening. He communicates mostly in emojis so it initially takes Sett a few reads to understand what he’s actually saying. He sends through an attachment of his own form and tells Sett to read it.

Sett skips most of the boring parts, swiping and skim reading through the pages until he finds,

What will the submissive call the dominant? BOSS

Oh, the motherfucker-

“Boss? Really?” Sett laughs. At least that meant he was attentive. That’s probably a good trait for a dom to have, right? He tries to remember his own answers to the equivalent question,

What will the dominant call the submissive? Mutt, Pet

Those weren’t too out there, besides they could always up the ante if they weren't doing it for him.

Aphelios’ form is much more certain than Sett’s. It’s an interesting read, and he actually manages it with a mostly straight face. Aphelios, as it turns out, is more than willing to throw his punches. Happy to inflict high levels of pain, to tease, to withhold or ruin orgasms. Choking, waxplay, sensory deprivation, it seems Aphelios is open to pretty much anything so long as he was the one calling the shots. The ‘no’s were minimal, mostly reserved for more specific kinks that even Sett had turned his nose up at, but one catches his interest,

Is the dominant open to switching? Yes | No | Not Sure | Discuss Further

Sett debates asking about that one, since he’s such a nosy fucker, but decides it’s probably best left unprodded.

His phone pings again and he’s been sent another cryptic string of emojis. Once he deciphers them, he figures out Aphelios is asking if there’s anything in particular that he’d want for his first scene.

‘Surprise me,’ Sett sends back, even though it felt like tempting fate.

He gets a little devil face in response.

-~*~-

Saturday is upon him before he can even blink. Sett is totally prepared and absolutely not pacing a dent into the apartment floor.

“Quit freaking out. It’s just a scene. It’s not like you’re going on a date or whatever,” K’Sante had said.

“What if I’m so great it turns into a date?”

K’Sante had laughed. “Sure, keep dreaming, buddy.”

A few hours later, Sett finds himself standing outside Targon again. He stares up at the glowing neon sign for approximately ten minutes before he works up the nerve to finally walk inside. It’s very much the same as it had been last time, though he doesn’t stop to collect a wristband on the way in. The bouncer on the VIP section is the same redhead woman as last time, though if she recognises Sett she doesn't show it.

“I’m here for Aphelios?” he says.

“Sorry,” she says, though is anything but sincere, “he only does by appointment and he’s booked up for months.”

“No, I’m his date, or whatever.”

She blinks, then her lips twist into a smile. “Ah, you’re Sett! Yes, he said you’d probably be early. Can I just ask you to sign here-”

When he’s finally let in, she tells him to wait while she informs Aphelios, and Sett finds it difficult to look, well, anywhere. He doesn’t want to stare but since most people in here are half naked or covered in latex that’s a pretty tough task. Is that guy wearing a dog tail buttplug? Yep, he sure is. Good for him. That lady’s being used as a footstool? Hope her back is alright- Is that a pair of subs in a cage? How would he feel in a cage? It’s really too much for him to process at the moment.

He retreats to the wall and leans back against it, tapping an offbeat rhythm on his knees. It strikes him how much it feels like he’s waiting for the headmaster to show up and scold him.

He had marked all the role play options as ‘discuss further’-

A hand taps at his shoulder and he jerks from his thoughts. Though his expression is neutral, Aphelios offers a cute little wave.

“Oh, hey,” Sett says, really hoping he comes across as nonchalant and not like he’s currently shitting a brick, “You urh, you weren’t stood there long, were ya?”

Aphelios shakes his head and gestures for Sett to follow. No point standing on ceremony.

They head further into the VIP area and down a corridor at the back, Aphelios moving swiftly as Sett strides to keep up. It’s quieter back here, the thrum of music from the main room only a distant rumble. There’s signs along the walls, informing about club rules, consent, protection, all the formalities. Most of the rooms are free as they pass, but the night is still young.

The room they end up in is at the end of the corridor, one Aphelios unlocks with a keycard. It’s almost sterile, with dark walls and vinyl flooring. There’s a low bench along one wall, a table against the opposite. There is a bed, but the mattress is all leather so he can’t imagine it’s particularly comfortable. A kneeler is shoved off to one side, out of use for tonight it seems.

Aphelios dumps his phone and keys on the table where there’s already a bottle of water, condensation dripping down the outside. He waits until Sett closes the door behind them before he signs,

“You didn’t put anything for safewords so we’ll use traffic lights. If you’re happy to continue, you say green. If you want me to slow down, you say yellow. If you need to stop completely, you say red. Do not hesitate with your safewords, do you understand?”

“Sounds good.”

“Since you won’t always be able to see my hands, I’ll snap my fingers when I wish to speak with you.”

It all feels very professional, way too formal. Then again, Sett reminds himself of the sheer amount of paperwork it took to even get into this room so he really should have expected it. He peers at the table and feels the sting of disappointment when he realises there aren’t any toys or tools he can see.

Aphelios sees his expression and says, “I want to figure out your limits, especially since you’re new to all this.”

Sett scoffs. “I ain’t soft.”

“I never said that.” He’s frowning as he signs it, brows furrowed tightly. “Besides, I can ruin you just fine without striking you once.”

Oh, he likes the sound of that. “Then ruin me, pretty boy.”

Aphelios raises his chin, lips twitching. “As long as we’re in this room, you call me boss. Is that clear?”

He nods a little too eagerly, then realises his mistake. “As day, boss.”

Aphelios hums. “Undress, then kneel here.”

Fortunately, Sett had the forethought not to wear complicated layers, so his shirt is off before Aphelios even finishes his sentence. He’s probably a little too keen on this, but he’s been patient enough already. He just wants some damn action already. His belt clinks as he tosses his clothes over in the vague direction of the bed. Then a moment of hesitation as his fingers hover over the waistband of his underwear, and he glances back up. Aphelios nods, so he takes them off too.

Once he’s down on his knees, Aphelios takes a step toward him, expression impassive, almost bored. But behind that facade is a distinct, primal hunger that leaves Sett feeling smaller than he ever has.

He wants more.

“Don’t slouch, fix your posture.”

It doesn’t occur to Sett that he could disobey. There’s nothing forcing him, but still he finds himself following the order without hesitation. He’s already half hard and should probably feel a modicum of shame for that, but finds himself uncaring. He sits up straighter, chin raised.

Aphelios continues signing, “Keep your hands behind your back. Hold your wrist if you have to, but keep them there.”

Sett does as he’s told, resting his hands at the small of his back. The way his tail tickles his arms is oddly grounding.

“Good. Very good.”

Pride wells up in his chest and Sett can’t resist a grin. Aphelios’ expression darkens.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself. I haven’t touched you yet.”

“Sorry, boss.”

Aphelios bares his teeth and, after one last disinterested glance up and down, circles around behind him out of sight.

His ears perk, following every movement intently. Fingers idly play with the tip of one, carefully rubbing the soft fur. Sett remains firm, determined not to sink so quickly.

Lithe hands trail down Sett’s throat, tilt his jaw up so he sits straight. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows involuntarily, clutching his wrist. Aphelios doesn’t squeeze, but his hand lingers, firm and unyielding. Sett’s a big guy, he could probably throw him off if he really wanted to, but there’s something about the illusion of helplessness that has him panting.

Then he’s forcing Sett’s chin upward, far enough to strain, back arching. Sett shudders as Aphelios’s trails his nails down, digging in minutely and his breath stutters in his throat.

“Fuck,” Sett grunts, but stays put, a dull ache building in his wrist from his nails. That earns him a little scratch at the base of his ear. He groans, ear flicking instinctively, ticklish.

Aphelios leans up, pulling Sett back just a little further to meet him halfway. Lips tease the soft, wispy fur at the tips of his ears and he can’t help but shudder against the sensation.

Then there’s teeth and Sett yelps, the sound melting into a needy whimper as Aphelios tugs at his ear. He’s not biting hard, but it’s enough to send sparks down his spine.

Aphelios’s free hand follows the curve of his back, appreciating the muscle beneath his fingers. Aphelios’ hands are cold, or maybe Sett is just burning hot, but it leaves him squirming against the sensation.

“Aphelios-”

He withdraws completely and Sett whines.

“Wait-”

Aphelios circles around to stand in front of him, painted lips twisting in contempt, in pure disgust. “If you can’t be a good mutt, then you don’t get touched.”

It takes a moment to realise he’s slouched again and Sett chokes around a whimper as he sits straight. “I’m sorry, boss. I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be good.”

There’s a hand on his jaw then, squeezing. Sett pants, lets his face be tilted upward to meet those piercing eyes.

Aphelios raises his free hand then, “Open your mouth.”

He does. Aphelios squeezes even tighter.

“Wider.”

Sett whines and opens as wide as he can.

Aphelios huffs through his nose. Then he spits in Sett’s waiting mouth, clamps it shut, and presses his free hand over his lips. He doesn’t need to sign for the next command.

Swallow.

Sett’s eyes roll back as he does so, holding his breath until Aphelios steps back and removes his hands. He opens his mouth again to show his obedience, tail wagging against his hands.

“So, you can follow an order.” Aphelios huffs through his nose and squats in front of him, head tilted. “And you’re already in such a state.”

Sett can’t help but squirm under such scrutiny. “Boss, please.”

“Please what?” He signs and the fucker tries to stifle the smirk on his face, tries to maintain the impassive, mildly annoyed expression. “Use your words, pet.”

“Please touch me.”

Aphelios reaches out and slides his fingers into Sett’s hair, rubbing at the base of his ear. A purr rumbles up from his chest before he can push it back down and Sett leans into the sensation, closing his eyes, letting himself drift.

There’s a snap of fingers and it takes a moment for his muddy mind to comprehend. Sett blinks a few times, then sits straight, wrists at the small of his back.

Aphelios watches him intently, lets him stew in it for a while longer before he slides a hand down Sett’s flushed, damp chest. Even such a slight touch has him arching forward, groaning.

It’s agonising watching those fingers dance their way down, slowly, so slowly. He tries to steady his breathing, spreads his knees a little wider as if it could tempt him.

But Aphelios does not budge, in fact his hand stops just inches from where Sett needs them and he realises he’s shaking.

Aphelios scoffs. “So desperate.”

Sett tries to roll his hips, only minutely, praying to whatever god would listen that Aphelios wouldn’t notice, but of course he does and removes his hand in punishment.

“Fuck. Boss, please- please touch me.”

“I already did,” he signs innocently, “wasn’t that enough? Such a demanding little mutt, aren’t you?”

Sett’s ears are flat against his head as he tries in vain to still his quivering hips. “Boss, please touch my cock, please-” He licks his lips, whines oh so sweetly. “I’ll do anything! Please!”

That earns him a hand on his face, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. Sett shoves into it like a man starved, gazing at him with the prettiest flushed cheeks. Aphelios pats his cheek twice, a condescending slap with barely any force. Sett whines despite it.

“Open.”

Sett does as he’s told and Aphelios presses two fingers inside, pushing down on his tongue.

“Suck.”

And by God, Sett licks and sucks like he might die tomorrow, vulgar filthy noises tumbling from his throat. He takes them as deep as he can, gagging and choking around them in earnest. There’s drool spilling from his lips, down his chin. He must look like such a mess-

Then there’s a hand on his cock and it’s like his entire existence has led to this moment. Sett keens around the fingers, the sound cut off by another gag as he fights to take them deeper.

There’s red rising in Aphelios’ cheeks, a small victory compared to the absolute state Sett is in. His hand is slick, Sett has no fucking idea when he had time to lube it up but he’s not complaining as it slides in a slow, harsh rhythm. Up, down, up-

Heat keeps building in his gut, swirling and molten and Sett feels like he’s going to explode. He can’t stop the way his hips jut upward, but the pathetic little whimper he delivers afterward seems to be a good enough apology.

The fingers in his mouth are cruelly withdrawn and Sett is left freely to spew soaked, filthy noises from his worn throat. It’s all surging too quickly, he’s dizzy and his cock is soaked, he’s so fucking hard-

He doesn’t want this to be over so soon-

“Boss, wait- I can’t- I’m gonna-”

Aphelios hisses and it takes a long moment to realise that he’s trying to hush him. His free, spit covered hand rises into view. “It’s okay, pet, you can cum.”

Sett can’t construct a response before he’s jerking his hips and crying out as that heat erupts. He cums harder than he has in months, dimly aware of the way it splatters across the floor. He rides out every second, until his stomach starts to hurt and his cock starts to burn from overstimulation. He tries to pull back but Aphelios forces his hips back down. He’s still going.

“Boss, I can’t- I can’t- it hurts-”

Aphelios coos and snaps his fingers so Sett looks up. His smile is wicked, his tongue peeking out between his lips. Oh, he’s evil.

His hand keeps moving until Sett is crying, until his throat is raw from his pathetic sobbing, wriggling beneath Aphelios’ iron hold.

But he doesn’t safeword, doesn’t let go of his wrist.

Finally, finally, Aphelios releases him and Sett can’t stop himself flopping to the ground with a heavy thud, panting and gasping for precious air. He’s quaking violently now, every muscle aching from strain.

His vision is blurred, everything hurts, he’s pretty sure he’s landed partially in his own spend. He’s so cold, reality feels so distant and alien.

He’s not even sure where Aphelios has gone, not even the vague notion of where he could be in the small room. Sett wracks his brain, pure mush, trying to recall what he’d put down for aftercare-

“I won’t need anythin’,” he’d said to K’Sante.

“You just want him to leave you there after? Not even a pat on the head?”

“Why not? I can take a beatin’, no problem.”

He hadn’t understood K’Sante’s insistence at the time but right now? Crumpled on the ground, shaking and nauseous?

This sucks, it sucks so hard. He feels like he’s about to puke-

There’s a quiet sound beside him and he looks up as Aphelios sits beside him, cross-legged, watching intently for a few long seconds.

Then he opens his arms. An invitation, one Sett takes with embarrassing haste. He can’t quite get upright, so shuffles across the floor until he can rest his head in Aphelios’ lap, a torn breath ripping from his chest and pittering into a sob. Aphelios only strokes his hair, his other hand reaching downward, curling around his shoulders. Sett’s arms snake around Aphelios’ waist, clinging to him like a lifeline.

If it bothers him, Aphelios doesn’t make it obvious.

He leans down, curling around him almost protectively, like nothing in the world could touch him as long as Aphelios was there. And in the back of his lucid mind, he honestly believes it.

Slowly, very slowly, Sett starts to ground himself, the little coil he’s wound himself up into finally starting to loosen. He blinks a few times, then reality crashes back into him.

“Fuck,” he says, shooting up to a sitting position. How he doesn’t headbutt Aphelios on the way up, he has no idea. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

Aphelios smiles. A little thing, a barely-there twitch of his lips, but it utterly bewitches Sett in an instant. His heart feels ready to burst from his chest.

“Do you feel any better?” he asks.

“Yeah! Yeah… Tired.”

Aphelios snorts. “That’s pretty standard.”

He moves closer, carefully guiding Sett to lean against him again. Sett’s head ends up on his shoulder, kneeling before him as Aphelios strokes through his hair. He drifts, sluggish and heavy, kinda like how he feels after too long a workout.

“Hey, wait- wait,” Sett blurts out, “I didn’t get you off.” He reaches out with his lead hands-

Aphelios catches them and jerks back, eyes wide, manic almost. Sett recoils.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“You sure? I’m more than happy to!” I really want to, please let me-

Aphelios only smiles. “That’s very sweet of you, but it’s fine, really.” Then after a pause, he adds, “maybe next time?”

Sett’s ears perk and his tail wiggles. “Next time?”

“Sure, if you’re up for another round.”

“I can handle anything you throw at me, boss.”

A mischievous smirk spreads over his features. “Be careful what you wish for.”

Sett looks around for his clothes, tries to stand- and crumples. Aphelios is there to ensure he doesn’t smash his knees but Sett is more astonished that he can handle the weight without even a stagger.

It does feel a little embarrassing, being led over to the bench and having his clothes handed over like he’s totally shitfaced, but it’s kinda nice being taken care of.

Aphelios makes certain he isn’t going to slump over, then passes him the water bottle from the table. While Sett sips, he signs,

“Let me call you a cab.”

“Nah, it’s fine, I can-”

“I insist.”

Maybe he’s just too goddamn tired, but Sett feels he doesn’t have much room to argue back.

#league of legends #settphel #sett league of legends #aphelios league of legends #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #my writing

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celluloidstyle · 11 months

Text

pump up the volume (1990)

director: allan moyle

costume designer: michael abbot

production design: robb wilson king

set dec: tina treglia (peterson)

cinematographer: walt lloyd

BEING WEIRD ISN'T ENOUGH not sure why i like this pin, but i like it.

this film takes place on the cusp between the 80s and the 90s, but i loved that these kids drove these 60s/70s(?) cars, i think to signify that they were low income and couldn't afford modern cars? but i love the atmosphere in this shot.

not the greatest screencap, but i adored everything janie (lala sloatman) wore. the cat-eye glasses, the oversized pink pearl earrings, the ponytail scarf. even though i related to nora's artsy side, i wanted to be janie.

mark (christian slater) is like two different people. at home, he wears cool retro bowling shirts embroidered with the name "dick" and sasses his parents, but at school he wears bland clothing (like he wants to blend into the background) and acts all shy.

i also just really loved mimi kennedy as mark's mom, marla, using a teacup to ash her cigarette into, i just thought it was so posh!

again, loving janie's dangly statement earrings, and the colour combo with her floral bolero (?) and sweet pink dress. i didn't love nora's (samantha mathis) outfit as much, but i was intrigued by the piece she wears over her dress. it ties at the back of her neck, and i think again on her lower back, so it's like a... halter vest? the turtle necklace is pretty dope, and though you can't see it in this shot, she is also wearing purple and white striped tights.

paige's (cheryl pollak) bedroom is a dream! the floral wallpaper and the white bed are so lovely, but the seafoam green radio really makes the colour scheme pop.

man i wish i had a teacher this cool! ellen greene as jan emerson (do they call her miss emerson in the movie? i can't remember), wears the coolest outfits, and she is introduced in this amazing mustard suit accessorized with a turquoise bolo tie! the look is amazing, but it also alerts us that this film takes place in arizona.

paige, doing her WASP thing in an oversized sweater over a blouse, with a string of pearls. it's the necklace that does it for me.

i mostly just wanted to see how many celebrities i could identify in this shot: keanu reeves, johnny depp, george michael, kirk cameron, corey haim, richard grieco... (stole this image from imdb as it was much clearer than my screenshot)

i forgot that plaid wallpaper was a thing and i think it's due for a comeback. particularly loving the plaid (shirt) on plaid (wallpaper) in this scene, so cozy, like a cabin!

so many things to love in this scene: number one, the heart curtains; number two, the kitten sweatshirt (the kittens look like they might be puffy and i can feel it in my mind); number three the "homework causes brain damage" sign on the wall--classic! number four, the clear lamp filled with gumballs? and the cow hanging from it! number five and six, the blue radio and the clear phone! i want one!

did you notice that the tissue box in the highschool staff room is the same as the tissue box in the depressed student's room? do you think it was the same box?

nora's room reminded me of my own room in highschool-- walls plastered with images, and plenty of candles. i think nora might have been one of the prototypes for the manic pixie dreamgirl.

Believe It Or Not I Care

mazz's (billy morrisette) denim and leather look is good.

an example of one of mark's drab shirts, but also nora's completely adorable velvet blouse with a peter pan collar! also, i'm learning that the next time i wear a collared shirt, i need to add a long statement necklace.

so this scene is near the end of the film, and i loved mark's shirt here. i also realized that it's more of a cooler, bolder look than he has previously worn to school, so i think it's supposed to symbolize mark coming out of his shell and revealing more of his true self at school/in public. look at me, i get things.

finally, loving this floral blouse and braided leather suspender on miss emerson. i would probably wear this.

BONUS here's a picture of drew barrymore at "an event" for pump up the volume (according to imdb), i'm assuming it's the premiere, just looking cool and badass. i need that jacket.

another bonus: this adorable promo photo of christian & samantha <3

anyways, most of these pics are my own screenshots, but you should check out higher resolution images on imdb. i couldn't find any articles about the wardrobe in this film, but i did find this 30th anniversary article that was interesting.

#pump up the volume #1990 #nineties #nineties films #christian slater #samantha mathis #allan moyle #lala sloatman #mimi kennedy #cheryl pollak #ellen greene #billy morrisette #drew barrymore

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oonajaeadira · 10 months

Note

Hi darling! What's on your agenda for the week? Any fourth of July plans?

Hey kitten.

Actually, not too much just yet. It's super rare that I should be this open in June/July of any year. But my show for the summer is a remount so we'll start rehearsals later than usual. I'll tell you what I should be doing. I should be taking my car in to replace brake pads and shocks. Y'know. Fun grown up shit.

And I hope to get to some writing this week, but I'm still dealing with this dumb tendon bullshit. It's definitely on the mend, but now's not the time to break the RICE routine.

Speaking of rice--but a different kind--and speaking of a different kind of rice.... I'm a master at white rice. Give me a good basmati or jasmine grain and a stovetop and I will give you perfectly cooked rice in 20 minutes every time. But I am struggling with brown rice. My goal is to get at least a decent pot by Thursday. One of my friends just had his second heart attack (he's only 37) and I'm doing a meal train for him and his wife on Thursday. I'm not a great cook and normally wouldn't cook for others, but these two are good friends of mine and totally non-judgy and will very openly just eat something else if it's really not their thing and I'm 100% okay with that. So I picked the healthiest meal I love to make. The baked salmon and the homemade pickled cucumbers are easy for me. But I generally make seasoned white rice with the meal and he's on a whole grains/brown rice only diet. So I've got a few nights to figure it out.

I really hate America Day. Our neighborhood kinda gets nuts with the fireworks and it'll go on for at least two weeks. Freaks out the dog. Keeps us awake. Not really a fan of loud noises, mosquitoes, alcohol, or heat, and that's pretty much the holiday in a nutshell so we tend to avoid it. There's an ordinance in our city that every home should be within walking distance to a park, so we have a lot of public green spaces. Which, most of the year, is awesome. But this time of year it tends to get overrun by whizzing frizbees and screaming kids.

But the holiday weekend's a long one--boss gave us Monday off too. I'd like to get started working on my fall show (I'm reworking and performing all the music), but I can't currently play with my wrist jacked up. Maybe I can get caught up with my fic reading? Or at least make a dent in my list???

We do have a sweet old one-screen cinema in my neighborhood--like one of those that has a velvet curtain and a working organ and an actual organist comes in and plays before the show. It's got a Dairy Queen on property and the cutest old gay couple own it so they get all the films we want to see and play a lot of great cult stuff. They're currently playing Asteroid City and I wouldn't be surprised if they do a last-minute Anderson retrospective, so we might walk over to that.

Especially if it gets hot. Because we don't have AC in the house. We do have an AC unit in our rehearsal studio, so maybe we'll set up an air mattress and a projector and do movies in there!

What are your plans for the fourth?

Blow up my inbox

#ask games

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radioconstructed · 7 months

Text

Internet Grandparents vs Apartment Decorating (9/9/2023)

(alternatively, "Al creates her new cuffing season lair, Ruddy also lives there" or "Arson in reverse; Bug/Net home decor")

Ruddy's (@ruddygore) apartment (that he got after exploding the last one) is ready for decorating! Al (@radioconstructed) her interior decorating hobby to use & helps him out! The Internet Grandparents get creative & make a fun, wholesome time out of it. They're very cute & sweet. (Not a formal chatlog, more of a rundown. It's a good insight into their off-screen interactions.)

ruddygore

Oh YEAH that actually reminds me, now that Ruddy’s rib is better, Al can help him with interior decorating like they talked about!

radioconstructed

She would be so happy to! She spent a lot of time in the early 2010's remodeling/redecorating (she still has some spots in progress, it's the ADHD) so it's not her first rodeo and she's so happy to join in!

ruddygore

Hell yeah! Since his apartment got Exploded (by him) (on purpose) (to kill a rude person) he needs to redo it from wallpaper to flooring to everything else. Turns out fire really wipes out upholstery.

radioconstructed

Haha for sure! What's his style? Does he have any reference images? Are there certain stores he likes to go to for furniture? That's probably a good starting point!

Al's home is pretty Hollywood Regency. It has a lot of that 1920's art deco look, mixed in with some of the ornate look of fancy homes (maybe Victorian?) and some MCM to complement the fancy shapes. But in a southern swamp chic way. Very maximalist.

ruddygore

He's an old victorian man and it reflects in his style (wood and busy wallpaper) but he's trying NOT to make his apartment look like a tiny dark hole. So they'll probably still stick with the general aesthetic, just in brighter colors.

This is probably a good idea of what they'd be going for, together.

bright colors, nice rugs, but still clearly victorian-esque

or as he'd put it "peepaw peacock"

previously it was like. dark green walls, wood paneling, heavy velvet curtains over the windows, dark wood furniture.

radioconstructed

That's very pretty! Nice! Dark green & wood paneling sounds SO pretty, but admittedly pretty dark. Heck yeah, let's brighten things up!

Al is a big fan of antique/vintage stores & treasure hunting at thrift shops, because that's where all the solid wood good quality stuff is! None of that Hellkea particle board (though she enjoys some of Hellkea's other offerings!). There's probably first-hand furniture stores that do it right, too. It's up to whatever Ruddy's preference is!

She's thinking, if he wants lighter colors, he can complement jewel-tone peacock colors with muted versions of them like sage green. Sage green makes for some gorgeous furniture colors.

ruddygore

He'd be down for thrifting around for some stuff! Especially for guest rooms or seats for normal sized people. Some he'll have to make himself for his own weight.

So she can help him design some custom stuff and he'll carve it out and finish it with whatever stain they decide is best.

It can be a fun exercise in designing something to tie all the thrifted stuff together

radioconstructed

That sounds like fun! The treasure hunt is part of the enrichment in the enclosure! Discovering what's in stock and thinking up what to do with it! Get those creative juices flowing!

She's sure she can find some nice inspo pics and they can brainstorm something custom! She'd love to see him build stuff.

(The last thing she redecorated was the hotel lmao and anything was better than the starting point.)

ruddygore

VERY true. That hotel was a MESS.

Like girlies, get a working fridge before you open?

radioconstructed

"Al is going to sabotage the hotel" and is the thing that can be sabotaged in the room with us? Sabotage WHAT?

ruddygore

Al did them a favor and now she's doing RUDDY a favor, and he is happy to pay her back however she'd like when it comes up.

radioconstructed

Aww! The enrichment and the privilege of having a hand in designing her friend's apartment is all she needs.

Al does have experience painting stuff, she repainted some of her furniture. DIY level. Can use voogle, stripper, a carbide scraper, and an orbital sander as well as the next hoe. She's a fan of self-leveling paint. She loves that stuff. Otherwise she'll spend all day fighting the brush strokes in the paint.

(She spent a year in near-isolation, that's a story for another day, but aside from making a bunch of music, she did a bunch of DIY fixing up her house. Things she didn't feel she needed to contract out. Weird time. She learned a lot.)

ruddygore

She's the ideal partner for a reno/DIY project!

He'll treat her to dinner at The Velvet Glove then, she can experience the surreal luxury of an eldritch all seeing building.

No charge, no menu, you just tell it what you want and it tastes like the best version of whatever you ever had.

radioconstructed

And she's very happy to learn from Ruddy!

Most of her experience with a toolkit is from fixing stuff up when it broke around the house, especially since hiring a professional was out of the question during the Great Depression. It's fun to learn from a professional engineer/inventor, especially for fun, and not like, distress.

That restaurant sounds AMAZING, she's THRILLED! Oh she's gonna dress up and have a great time, Ruddy is the Best

ruddygore

Let them dress up NICE and have a GREAT TIME getting all the food they want.

And of course Ruddy is happy to teach her everything she could ever want to know.

radioconstructed

YEAH! That sounds like SO much fun!

She's gonna be so enriched by whatever tools he has. She's seen people on the Inter Net using a "gravity fed pneumatic sprayer" and it looks cool as anything. Fancy tools for the Win!

She has Opinions on stuff too. Like "Minwax is a subpar product. General Finishes is good stuff" for wood stain. "Latex paint is terrible. I wouldn't thrift anything with latex paint I have to remove."

(But ultimately his furniture, his decisions, and she's happy to help regardless!)

ruddygore

He values her input, and frankly after so long doing things a specific way, she's going to know more about anything modern like latex paint. He's always just hand made his stuff or ordered it custom. Never a single particle board in his home

radioconstructed

She made the mistake of thrifting a 1920s waterfall dresser and went "oh I can clean this up" and discovered what latex paint was.

SHE HAS AN IDEA!

Has he ever seen a resin pour table? Like one with pressed flowers? He could do something like that with anything, with any memorabilia that he has.

ruddygore

He's seen them in OTHER people's houses but he's never made one. He'd be happy to try it with her though!

radiconstructed

Like this!

With whatever he wants to put in there! And they can make the base color something light instead of black. Maybe get a wood table that has tiles inside and gut out the tiles, and use the recessed space for the resin pour. Instead of using whatever the lady in the video has (it looks modern and not wood)

ruddygore

That's SO pretty, he'd love to try his hand at it. There's tons of options. He's got coins, fancy cigar labels (which are mostly brightly colored foil), dried flowers, the shiny little curls of scrap metal from his workshop..

Hell even potpourri would look pretty if you encased it in resin

radioconstructed

Those all sound like they'd be SO pretty encased in resin! And seconded on the potpourri! Whatever he wants! A custom Ruddy themed table. She doesn't have a lot of experience with epoxy resin but she's seen videos. She can follow instructions.

ruddygore

HMMM. He'd probably put copper scraps and potpourri in together. Make it look like little sparks of fire in the middle of what is essentially spicy wood.

radioconstructed

That's so cool and creative! That would look REALLY cool.

ruddygore

He and Al are gonna turn into that YouTube crafty couple, Evan and Katelyn

Just doing wacky ass DIY for fun

radioconstructed

Oh yeah I've seen their stuff! They're so fun! Al & Ruddy doing wacky DIY! I'm here for it

ruddygore

Resin sword, why not!

radioconstructed

Hell yeah!

I'm in a few furniture groups and someone turned an unsalvageable cabinet radio into a terrarium. It's gorgeous. Al would mald until she understood that it was truly unsalvageable. Then like, ok, that's a cool upcycle.

OMG CAT FURNITURE FOR MICHI!

ruddygore

CAT FURNITURE!!!!

radioconstructed

You know how Al likes to obnoxiously plaster deer-themed stuff everywhere on her interior decorating? Including the hotel? Well, she thinks Michi deserves to have cat themed stuff plastered on her furniture. If Ruddy agrees. For example, a cat bed shaped like a cat.

ruddygore

He would be more than willing, he'd love it

He'll happily make her a little deer themed item as well if she wants something to match for her own place

radioconstructed

OH THAT'S SO SWEET 🥺 She's so happy, she's having so much fun with helping him redecorate. She feels so alive!

ruddygore

SHE'S BEING VERY SWEET AND HELPFUL AND HELPING HIM TRY NEW THINGS!

radioconstructed

It is an enriching joy and PRIVILEGE!

ruddygore

He's thriving and feels much more confident and comfortable with her around to do this with

radioconstructed

OH AWWWWWW??? 🥺 That's so cute and that warms her heart!

It's really nice to be in a position where her presence is wanted and appreciated and enjoyed, and where she can be passionate and creative! (she's radiating heart emojis)

ruddygore

He's an old stubborn autistic man, but with her around, the change isn't bad, it's fun with a friend, trying new enrichment and joking around.

She keeps him from getting into his own head about things. Emotional support deer.

radioconstructed

Oh right, change can be difficult, right? She's very ADHD, so change is fun for her (when trauma doesn't get in the way). Opposite end of the spectrum. She's super happy to help this be a fun experience! Emotional support deer!

Well he's her emotional support Lorge Snake because this sure is grass-touching, and getting to be creative & fun & appreciated & wanted as a Person is so good for her soul!

ruddygore

Her good attitude is infectious and he will tell her many times how much she's helping this feel good and not miserable. Kiss her on the head, mwah mwah. Her presence is a balm on his weary soul and he's grateful for her.

Can't get too stressed about changing things when she's all excited and being so creative and offering all these ideas, and anything he would sit there and get overly perfectionist over is automatically good because they did it together.

radioconstructed

Get her considering abandoning all her jobs and becoming a personal interior designer! Haha! She feels so appreciated and she's full stupid. Excellente. But she insists that the enrichment is hers! She's having so much fun. It's good because they did it together! AWW!!! WEEPS

Honestly that's such a good coping mechanism on his end. Making a stressful thing fun by including a friend who'll have fun! Al of course is happy to Play Tunes to make the ambiance even more fun! But she'll behave. Fun but not music that makes her go feral. The time to bring it bring it back is not when she's pouring resin. Sorry Pitbull Featuring Lil Jon And The Ying Yang Twins, you will have to make an appearance another day.

ruddygore

He's old enough to have learned how to wrangle his stubborn brain, and she's just a pleasure to have around in general so it's a win both ways. Vibe with a friend, listen to tunes together, and try fun new crafts to make him a nice new apartment to entertain in.

They can listen to music that makes them insane later, do a little cocaine and get stupid

radioconstructed

Lovely! Vibe and listen to music and do arts and crafts with her bugkeeper friend who provides her the enrichment and the friendship. Her socialization sim bar is FULL & GREEN and it's GLORIOUS! Cocaine and music that makes them go insane as a reward 🥺 he gets it! He knows how to have a good time!

She would.... 🥺👉👈 she would like the right to keep a mug at his apartment. With a deer on it. Like, Her Mug for when she comes over to hang out. Is that ok

ruddygore

She is welcome to have a special mug just for her in his apartment, hell she can have the spare key.

He LOVES having a good and unhinged time, with her specifically, because he feels safe with her and is willing to let his guard down in her presence. Get off his ass and full Sillay.

He'll stock up on her beverage of choice as well, to go with her mug. Gotta have her favorite sip so his bug feels comfy and wanted in his place.

radioconstructed

Oh wow that's so sweet?? Hello?? That's so touching she's going to cry?? Not externally but internally. She is crying internally but in a good way.

Honestly, there are very few people she feels Safe around and he's one of them. Like, as a person. It's Sillay Time!! She's honored to be a safe person he can be silly with!

She is getting so spoiled. She just likes coffee, as far as mug drinks go! (Alcohol is not for mugs.) She likes dark roast, black.

ruddygore

He will get a nice assortment of different beans she can try, one of those fancy little gourmet sampler packs.

radioconstructed

He understands her! That sounds like enrichment!

Her spare key is in the custody of either Mimzy, Rosie, or Niffty tbh but Ruddy is welcome to have a mug at her place, and whatever his fav coffee (or other drink) is!

#chatlog.#ruddygore

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galahadiant · 1 year

Text

hey gang check out my horrible guys cw: heavy drinking, shitty dysfunctional relationships. technically cal was also getting misgendered this whole time but I've chosen to use his actual name and pronouns for my own comfort

01.

“Dear, don’t fidget,” whispers Jonah through gritted teeth, and Cal locks his ankles together to try to keep his legs from jiggling under his skirt. Jonah pats his arm with one gloved hand, a strained little gesture, but sweet. Cal can feel that people are staring at them across the table, and he goes back to focusing on his oyster fork.

Jonah is so patient with Cal, they must be thinking. Cal can never control himself at these things, and Jonah never shouts. Plenty of people in Cal’s family would have lost patience by now, including the cousin glaring at him from across the table. He can feel sweat beading on the back of his neck. This dress has a high lace collar that’s awfully uncomfortable.

He carefully detaches the oyster from the shell with the tines of the fork. He doesn’t really like oysters. but he chokes another one down just for the look of the thing. Jonah gives him a small smile when he looks up, and quickly moves one of the remaining oysters onto his own plate.

...Jonah is so patient.

02.

Cal drinks straight from the bottle, leaning back against one of the velvet curtains and letting it half envelop him. It’s green velvet, dark. Darker than the trees in the greenhouse. He presses his cheek into it. It’s so soft. It smells like dust. The sky outside the big bay windows in the gallery is butter-and-gold with sulfuric clouds, and the colors waver pleasantly in his vision.

He takes another swig from the bottle of brandy and gives a small cough as it goes down just a little too fast and hot. Oh, well. It’s starting to taste pretty good now that he’s—

“Are you drunk?” demands Jonah, wrenching the bottle out of Cal’s hand. Cal jumps, briefly scrabbling at the folds of the velvet drapery like he thinks he can sink into it. Maybe he can just hide underneath it and sneak away. Jonah’s voice is so loud.

“We’re about to leave to shop for your wedding dress!” Jonah splutters. He sets the half-empty bottle down on a table, where it’s certainly going to leave a ring of condensation, and extracts Cal from the curtains. “My mother is going to be there,” he adds, more horrified.

“Still don’t get why your mother is coming.”

“I— okay, I don’t either. She insisted, though, so we’d better put on a good show. We’ll get you some water on the way down.” He’s checking them over with his quick, precise little movements, pinning hair back in place, ruffling back out the lace front of their dress. Cal loves how…precise Jonah is. So good at picking up the pieces. Jonah’s always picking up pieces.

Cal tears up a little. “Sorry,” he says.

Jonah shakes his head and picks up Cal’s velvet jacket, discarded on top of a bookshelf. “You know, your problem is that you’re selfish,” he says. He won’t meet their eyes. “You never think about how much your actions affect other people.”

“It— it’s MY damn wedding dress!” Cal retorts. “It’s you who went and made it into a production!”

“Volume,” Jonah says, softly.

Cal wheels on his heel and slams Jonah into a wall. There’s a sharp crack as his head collides with the wooden paneling. The bookshelves rattle, and Jonah grunts. He stares at Cal for a second, brows furrowed, and slowly removes their hand from his arm.

“…I’m so sorry,” says Cal, aghast. He drops his hand and takes a step backwards, a little unsteady on his feet.

“That’s going to leave a lump,” says Jonah, his voice very distant and sharp on the edges. “I suppose you’re pleased with yourself.”

“No, I’m not, I promise—!”

Jonah pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let’s go get some water, and I’ll ECHO our parents to let them know we’re delayed.” He sighs.

“I’m just nervous, I think,” says Cal mournfully. The stairs are kind of tricky to go down drunk, especially with the hem of his dress getting in the way. “I can’t help it, I haven’t liked any of the dresses we’ve looked at so far, they’re all…they make me feel lumpy.”

“Very few people can go wrong in tailored clothes, and we’ll be getting yours tailored,” says Jonah, not reassuringly. “And if you can’t pick one our parents can just pick one for you. You needn’t get so worried about it.”

He gives them a small smile when they get to the kitchen. “It shouldn’t be stressful,” he adds. “Drink. And take this, it might help clear your head.” He pushes a pill into their hand and they swallow it obediently.

“Sorry,” says Cal again.

“I’m sure you’ll look wonderful,” says Jonah, who is looking out the window and absentmindedly rubbing the back of his head.

03.

Dear Jonah,

I’m sorry. I couldn’t go through with it. I’m afraid I’ve been lying to you. It turns out that I’m a guy, actually, and I think you might have been able to tell recently, and I know that’s not something you’re ready to deal with.

I want to see the rest of the galaxy. I want to have adventures. I want to go places where there are people in danger and help them and I want to be in and out of some real, actual danger. Not just falling out of trees or cloud-diving. Maybe I really am selfish, but I'm also drunk, and I don't care. By the time you read this I'll be offworld.

You can tell everyone I had a nervous break. They’ll believe you. Your mother never liked me much anyway.

My name is Calix, by the way. I guess you deserve to know.

Love you.

04.

Dear Calix,

I don’t think you’re sorry at all.

Don’t try to reach me again.

#cal farshore #my writing

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canofpurpleflowers · 2 years

Text

Flowers in ashes

Part one

80s!au, aged up!boys, Rindou x F!artist!reader(kind of Oc??), ft. All the other bonten men.

Warnings: Language, blood, slight gore, alcohol, smoking, Eventual filth in later chapters. Either way let’s keep it 18+ MDNI

Summary: reader is an artist that goes by the “stage” name Ash (but real name is Charlie so it’s easier for me to write lol), Rindou runs into her and all the sappy jazz happens after he realizes she’s completely her own breed. What he doesn’t realize is she’s hiding something huge

✨Also this is in the mens point of view first because I feel like it’ll make more sense for this part✨

AN: ok I haven’t written anything in ages but I’ve had this idea running through my mind a lot so might as well right?! and I’m winging it.

———————————————————————-

“Ok so tell me why exactly we have to go to this art show deal?” Rindou grumbled, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and exhaling a cloud of smoke to add to the haze in the fancy hotel room, “because Mikey said so” Ran replied, putting out his own cigarette in the ashtray on the glass coffee table, “that still doesn’t clarify anything for me” Rindou takes another puff of his, “ok look, ..Mikey said something about making a deal with some old ass” Ran replies, leaning back on the red velvet couch, “plus some work from Keith Haring and Andy Warhol will be there and that might be kind of interesting” he shrugs, “yeah well I don’t really give much of a shit about all that you know”

“Plus that new artist, Ash, will be making an appearance I hear” Ran adds, “am I supposed to know who that is?” Rindou puts out the cigarette in the pile of ashes in the green bowl as well, “how could you not know about ash you dumbass?!” Sanzu walks in from the balcony, “damn ok, didn’t know it was that big of a deal, what’s so great about them?”

“Well first off no one’s really seen them in person before and they’re making their first appearance tonight” Ran explains, “I’m not one to be super into this shit but they paint some pretty wild shit I can definitely get into” Sanzu adds, “they’ve really started to blow up here in New York” Ran stands up stretching his arms, “but Mikey’s gonna be here any second so we should get going” “right, ok, I hope there’s someone I can beat the shit out of at least”

—

“Behave yourselves until I get back” Mikey smiles, but the underlying threat leaves a chill in everyone’s bones even if it wasn’t intentional, as they walk into the pure white marble venue.

The entry way leads into a huge room filled with paintings and people dressed in the most expensive clothes you could find in New York. The sound of people quietly gossiping and the music played by a piano is all that can be heard in the room. Red curtains covering the windows and two levels looking down on the huge room making for a very extravagant evening.

Everyone starting to stare at the intimidating men with the brightly dyed hair walk in the room.

“I feel like we’re standing out like a sore thumb” Rindou mumbles to Ran standing next to him, “screw em, -dammit where did Sanzu go?! I’ll be back” “wait-…shit” Rindou says under his breath, as Ran already disappeared into the crowd, “ok guess I’ll go get a drink then. There should be some expensive champagne or something right?“ Rindou says to himself, walking up to a man in a tuxedo holding a platter with glasses of liquid gold making his round, “I’ll take one of these” Rindou says as he grabs a glass, and the man nods back and continues on his track.

Rindou walks up to a painting of an abstract naked woman covered in blood, starting to get sucked into it. Hm, this is actually pretty good, he thinks to himself taking a sip of the drink. “Kinda odd isn’t it?” Turning to his left there’s a shorter woman dressed in a white tee shirt with a tye dye vest and baggy jeans, covered in tattoos and lavender curly hair that reached just past her shoulders, “that’s an odd look for a fancy evening like this” he mumbles, “says the one who looks completely clueless and wearing a purple suit like that I might add” she mumbles as she sips her champagne, he chuckles at that when she asks “what do you think of the painting?” “I can get into it but something feels off” he replies, “like the artist is leaving something out” she points out, “I don’t know much about art so I can’t say much about it” “that’s alright, the whole art thing isn’t for everyone in my opinion. I feel like she’s trying to portray the feeling of pain can be an act of art in a way”

He looks at her then back to the painting, thinking about it, “oh yeah I can see that” he leans in closer to see the card next to the painting, reading ‘beauty in pain by Ash’ “oh this is that Ash person” “yeah, I don’t really get her art that much or why it’s that popular honestly” she replies pulling out a cigarette and getting a few stares from some older men on the other side of her, “need a light?” He pulls out his lighter, “yeah, that’d be great, thanks” she grabs the lighter from his hand as he notices her fingers decorated in rings. “Damn you even got a few rings” he says and he grabs the lighter back from her after she lights her cigarette and takes a puff, “of course, gotta be a little flashy right?”

They stood in silence for awhile, people walking by whispering incoherent gossip.

Rindou and the woman move onto the next painting by Andy Warhol, “oh I love Warhol” she comments, “eh” he pauses, “I really don’t get this shit honestly” “he’s definitely better than that Ash though“ she chuckles, “actually I think I like that Ash one more. I feel like there’s more feeling poured into it” he replies, “nah she’s got some weird shit goin on in that head of hers” she says in a quiet voice, “why do you call them a she? Do you know them?“ he questions her, she doesn’t answer for a moment then replies “I might”

Right before he was going to say something an older woman in a blue dress grabs the odd woman’s arm and off they went into the crowd, he gives them a weird look and goes back to finishing the glass of champagne in his hand when Ran and Sanzu show up.

“Mikey needs us upstairs” right as rindou was going to reply to Sanzu when a man on the stage announced something about Ash being here, so Rindou squeezed through a few groups of people quickly, forgetting that his friends are trying to get his attention. “hey hold on!” Shouts Ran, trying to catch up to his brother. He found a spot where he could get a glimpse of the stage and he froze in his tracks. It’s her, it’s that girl with the lavender hair he was just talking to. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the realization, he was talking to Ash. Of course… he thought to himself, right as she was about to speak Ran catches up to him. “Oh hey that’s Ash isn’t it? Looks like you’re pretty into this” He laughs, Sanzu following close behind, adding a ‘no way!’ But Randou was too distracted to pay attention to his friends. He doesn’t know what it is but all of a sudden this girl has his curiosity peaked, he has to talk to her again.

“Seriously though Rin we gotta go meet with Mikey” Ran pulls on his arm and off to god knows where in this huge building.

They finally reach a deep red door and walk in to find Mikey with an older man who looks like he owns the place, literally. “There you guys are!” Mikey smiles, as the other three men stand by the door, curious as to why Mikey needs them here. “Our friend here has been the one orchestrating all those attacks on bonten” he calmly looks back to the man and back to them, the look in his eyes saying something completely different. “Mr. Kingston, meet my men” he raises his arm to the haitani brothers and Haruchiyo, each growing a wicked smile.

—

“We should get going now before the cops get involved” Mikey says, wiping the blood from his hands, “god I love this job!” sanzu almost squeals, Ran sitting on a chair in the corner with a cigarette hanging from his lips. As for Rindou he was still going at it, finally breaking the mans neck and standing up straight. Blood covering all the men in the room and expensive furniture ruined, they walk out of the room with little to no clean up of their soiled clothes and skin.

A woman walking by the room screams as the four men walk out leaving a trail of panicked and horrified faces behind them. Rindou was the last to rush out the building when he caught a glimpse of her, she was staring right back at him and he expected her to be just as panicked as everyone else but no, it was like she was more so…curious. He smiles to himself as they drive off passing cars with sirens and flashing lights heading to where they were just at.

God I have to find her

———————————————————————

AN: I promise this’ll pick up and be more exciting as we go on and I get back into my writing groove:) I literally have written anything like this in at least 4 or 5 years so cut me some slack😩

#tokyo revengers #tokyorev #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev fluff #tokyorev smut #rindou smut #bonten rindou #ran haitani #tokyo revengers senju #rindou haitani #haitani rindou

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mallowbees · 2 years

Note

You got me tempted: ♧

You’re my: ask sender! youve sent me a nice amount of asks in the time we've followed eachother which i appreciate :D

How I met you: I mean i dont think we've really met met to the best of my memory (but i could be wrong) so just, tumblr mutuals :) also im pretty sure it was you that hopped into dustys stream that one time when i reblogged that and said hi so :D

Why I follow you: you interacted with me a bit and had good art so i was like yes. following time. >:)

Your blog is: something that reminds me of velvet? like the specific color of red makes me thing of like velvet on an old chair or curtains. it has a very specific vibe. you are like walking into an antique store to me (compliment)

Your URL is: Nice! good url

Your icon is: Really nice colors :) green and red

A random fact I know about you: i dont think i know much :pensive:

General opinion: pretty cool :)

A random thought I have: do u like green beans (is asking because i am eating green beans)

#the asks #majickss #ask game

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diyiskindofmyjam · 3 months

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It's the 2023 "What did I sew this year" wrap up ft. terrible pictures.

It's probably an unfinished list because I must have missed some little projects. Bonus section: did I actually finish the project or does it still need some finishing?

January

The Gordon Hoodie by Mood. I used a fleece fabric and some string I had somewhere. I really just wanted to try out the pattern and if I would like a cropped hoodie. Basically: don't use a non-stretch fabric for the sleeves or cuffs, but overall a good pattern. I don't think a cropped hoodie is for me though. Fully hand sewn.

The Serena top by Sew swimmingly. Unfortunately she stopped overall so the pattern isn't available to buy anymore... but I bought it just in time (this is a hint)... so send a message if you want some information on it?. I made a mock up out of a (cheap) lilac lycra and some (cheap) lilac lace for the back 'black piece'. I don't have a picture of my lilac version, but here are the pictures of sew swimmingly. There will be pictures of a black version here somewhere.

February

Or: the start of my 1860s/cinderella/Sisi crossover dress. I might make a separate post about this.

1860s corset. I made a few mock up versions over december 22 to January and I settled on this pattern (free). I printed it at 103% and added a little over 6 cm from the waist up to make sure it wasn't a underbust corset and made no further adjustments. I have a ±5-8 cm lacing gap when I wear it.

Hoopskirt: I ordered a hoop skirt but it arrived as a completely different shape than the pictures showed, so I removed all the boning, made casings and in the end put all the hoops and tapes together by hand. The tapes are a mix of brown bias binding I had laying around and some cotton strips.

Layered petticoat for the 1860s project: It's scraps of tule, organza and mesh curtains sewn on in layers to go over my hoop skirt (finally a project I can use all my scraps for), sewn on the original fabric of the hoop skirt (it was a little too small, so I just added a strip of fabric to make it wider: it's not meant to be pretty, it's meant to be functional).

Organza petticoat for over the 1860s project to make it pretty. and add some more volume to the bottom.

March

1860s skirt.

1860s Overskirt out of this crystal-effect organza bc I wanted the lower skirt to be multi functional.

Fabric roses (over 50 in multiple sizes).

1860s bodice. (I drafted this myself the evening of the ball, I had to rush)

April

My dad requested some sort of alpaca cheek mask for a client of his. So I tried something? Didn't quite work out in the end.

Atonement dress: my friends convinced me it was a good idea to try to recreate it for a gala. It was a pain in my ass, I did it though. I used a very thin and slippery green charmeuse I had bought for a lining for another project (and it ripped so easily into ladders (like thighs). 2/10 experience). I bought skin toned tricot lining to line the dress with and make me able to wear it without flashing everybody. I used the lining to make a 'mock-up' / lining because I didn't want to make a paper pattern or buy one.

Finished my green velvet dress after like 3 years.

Swimsuit: my second ever, bc my mom wears my 1st one and she lost it and she was about to go on holiday the next morning for her 25th wedding anniversary with my dad. So I sewn one in like 1,5 hour at 10 pm so she could swim. The pattern I used is Poppy by Edgewater Avenue. I absolutely love this pattern, no pictures of the actual swimsuit though.

Made a velvet-flower print pillowcase for my grandma.

May

Made a black version of the Serena top. Added a little bit of elastic to the waist so it would roll up a little less. I get so many compliments on this one

My mom-jeans ripped at the knees. I don't like ripped knees. so I sewn them roughly together, painted some flowers (bc I know how incredibly slow I am with embroidery) and started embroidery. Guess you can't really call this a sewing project but it's still here. I wore it to the Elton John concert.

June

I mocked up a Bustier dress Pattern by Chikafrik Patterns on Etsy. Wasn't what I wanted. But I got a top out of it

I made a milkmaid-inspired top out of a polkadot cotton fabric. I had just enough to cut this out. I would've loved it if I had like 1 or 2 cm's more for the hem but really like the top as is.

Jersey midi dress with satin binding. Drafted the pattern myself. It's one of my favourite dresses ever. Next time I will move the straps in maybe 1 or 2 cm's because it's a little tight around my arms. But overall very comfortable, I even trimmed sheep hoofs in it (don't do what I do and wear flip-flops).

Juli

Mock up shorts; it's an adjusted pattern from Wide Leg Pants by Peppermint Patterns (it's free or you can choose what you pay!). Here's a tutorial on how to do it.

Mock up of the Wilder Top by Mood. Combined, these make me feel like Indiana Jones or a Jungle Explorer or like a sexy zoo keeper.

August

I made a purple chiffon version of the Wilder Top for my mom... kinda?

September

Made the "Wide Leg Pants" shorts in green linen!

Started on a red, short version of the black jersey dress.

I made a top out of my leftover fabric. I used the top of #UP1020 Jumpsuit by Unfettered patterns (it's a free jumpsuit pattern). I lowered the neckline and made it square. Didn't have enough fabric for a facing so I just serged and sewn down the seam. It shows a little of some of my lacy bra's at the neckline and I must say I quite like that look.

Started on a linnen beige skirt with some pearlescent buttons, didn't use a pattern.

Made the Elliot Front Tie top by Coolstitches out of a printed cotton. Lined the upper parts with a cotton voile, because the printed fabric was a little to see through.

October

Started on a green viscose blouse. The pattern is blouse #2310 by Lekala. It's however way longer than the technical drawing saw.

I mended some sweaters of both of my brothers and some shirts of my dad's.

Started on a 1860s blouse, I used the TV449 as a base and drafted my own collar piece. I used pearlescent buttons and used a lace edge. I made it all by hand.

Started on a 1860s jacket from TV449 (1861 Revere Bodice). This is also all made by hand

Made a mockup of suit pants for my twin brother. Burda 6871.

Took in the linen skirt.

November

Made a wearable mock-up of the suit pants. I had so many fit problems and my twin getting annoyed with how many times he had to do a fitting so in the end they didn't quite fit right and it's not a wearable mockup. I'm going to start from scratch with the pattern again.

Made a blanket hoodie and was inspired by the Billie Wearable blanket. It's so ugly but it's so handy and warm. It's nmade out of two layers at the sleeves and throughout the body. All out of 'scrap' fabric.

December

Satin blouse for NYE, made out of a cheap polyester satin I was going to use as a lining but then I didn't?. Fully hand sewn. The pattern is blouse #2394 by Lekala and I had the hardest time figuring it out, and still don't think I've figured it out. I think I might replace the buttons with smaller ones in the future because the holes on these pearl beads (yes, not buttons, it's what I had on hand) are a little too big for my liking.

Worked on the green viscose blouse

The bonus I promised - the unfinished projects of 2023 list

I dyed a white cotton dotted dress red, it's the Marina Dress by NH patterns but without the gathering. It needs a hem and some adjustments in the skirt

The hoodie blanket needs a hem and the cuffs need finishing.

The linen skirt needs a hem

The red jersey dress needs some adjusting... at the top and needs binding for the bottom.

The TV449 is unfinished

The green blouse need a hem

You'll have to trust me on this, since I'm not allowed to add more images. I also have at least twice the amount of unfinished projects so yeah, yay for starting more projects and finishing even less.

#sewing #2023 wrapped #cinderella #1860 #Sisi #atonement #Mood #Historically-inspired

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meilas · 5 months

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Socks reviews POTO Poland 2019 part two

part one

Maskenball starts strangely. It's very quiet, and THEN we get to see guys in tuxedos dancing! Except it looks like a party from the 1920s. Christine and Raoul have finally arrived and Raoul is in his normal outfit but Christine is cosplaying Belle. She gets a chance to briefly dance with all the suited guys before meeting up with Raoul in time to ascend the stairs for the climax of maskenball. Glitter confetti! I have to say that while I prefer the OG outfits, I do like how there are no statues on the stairs. Red Death is… a pirate. This is so much better than OG Red Death. I approve. But he really needs to slow down here. Back to the managers' office! Christine is wearing a purple velvet dress that makes her look like a princess. Christine decides she can't go through with The Plan and she books it through what I thought was a window but is actually a door in the office. Raoul monologues to the audience and then follows her. Curtains drop and we seem to have fast-forwarded to Christmas with all the red and green. The choir brings in chairs and a piano and launches into Jingle Bells Don Juan Triumphant. Now the graveyard! Christine is dressed like a Victorian widow and is carrying a bouquet of flowers. Her dad's grave is massive. There are also street lamps. And the background is beautiful. I guess we joined her toward the end of her song (clap clap clap) because here's the Phantom. I alternately like Christine's voice and then hate it. Her tone changes so often from full-bodied to thin. I am happy to report that we get a trio! And they sound pretty good. The Phantom tossed a fireball and went behind the cross on top of the grave, and then he walked out from behind another gravestone on the left side of the stage. Obviously it's a stunt double for the sword fight I was promised, but I was not expecting a double and it was done seamlessly. As far as stage swordfighting goes, this isn't the worst I've seen. But it also could have been better. If they're going to have one of them dodge a swipe, they need to be closer so it doesn't look like the Jedi Force Kick PONR time! Don Juan in this version is apparently a pirate. I don't know what's happening here at the normal unhooding part. He kind of grabs her from behind and just holds her in place? He lets her go and starts singing his proposal and she removes the Dread Pirate Roberts bandana he was wearing. Then Piangi falls out from behind a giant glass prism. Nobody says anything. There's loud boom, the extras start screaming, and the Phantom shouts "no" and grabs Christine and walks her offstage. A couple can-can dancers wheel a loveseat that looks like a pair of lips offstage. The un-bandana-ing was nice, but it didn't quite work. I'm assuming he wasn't wearing his mask under the bandana, so his face was on full display to everyone on stage. Was the boom supposed to be a gunshot that missed him? If so, who was holding it? Back to the Phantom and Chrstine. He's wearing only a shirt and pants and his shirt is untucked. This does not look good. The lair set pieces roll into view, and the mirror is open this time to show the mannequin wearing a wedding dress. A portcullis comes down this time which makes the lair set look a bit smaller. Raoul and Madame Giry appear up high behind the portcullis, so Christine and the Phantom are left to do some random blocking in the lair while that is happening. Unfortunately, we do not get to see all of the Final Lair which really is a pity.

#socks reviews #poto #phantom of the opera #poto poland #tumblr thinks my post is too long so it's in two parts

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weirdanecdotes · 8 months

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Wallpaper Roses

When I was five, my family moved into a wonderful old house in Brookhaven, which was only a small village north of Atlanta back in the mid-Fifties. My room was wallpapered with large pink cabbage roses. They alternated, some larger than others, in a loose diagonal grid on an age-yellowed white background.

Evenings as I drifted off to sleep, I would gaze drowsily at this wallpaper and remember another room with similar wallpaper. In the other room, the roses were smaller and spaced in a more obvious diagonal arrangement. I could recollect standing in that other room, sensing it as vividly as if I had been there the day before and feeling what I felt when I had been there.

The room was a large rectangle with a wall of windows at one end, two French doors leading out onto a balcony flanked by two floor to ceiling windows hung with lacy white curtains. There was furniture of a kind I had not seen in my young life, dark and heavy, carved with flowers and fruits, upholstered in dark green velvet. There are pictures on the walls but I perceived them only peripherally. The focus of my attention was on the French doors, which stood slightly ajar. I could smell honeysuckle and dust and horse manure. I felt horribly, terribly anxious and expectant.

This memory was so real, so uncompromisingly authentic, that I repeatedly told my mother about it and asked when did we live there? When was I in this room? And my mother said, “Never, never, never!” until I stopped asking her.

But this memory of the other room stayed with me. It was like having a hole in a tooth and worrying it with your tongue. I’d keep poking at it and going over the details of it in my mind because of that awful feeling of waiting for something dreadful to happen. In my imagination, I tried to move the recollection forward, to make that other me in that other room walk toward those doors and see the thing it expected so that I could have an understanding and make peace with the memory. And I would succeed to a certain degree. I could make that other me move toward the source of its fear but before I could get to the knowledge I sought I’d be stopped by actual, physical sensations of fear. My heart would pound, my palms sweat, my mouth go dry in such acute distress that I could not begin to cope with it. I was, after all, only five at the time.

I couldn’t make it to the doors, but I never forgot the effort and its cause.

At eighteen, I was living in the freshman girls’ dormitory at LaGrange College in LaGrange, Georgia. There were always little confabs and bull sessions going on in the rooms after curfew and one night coming back from the bathroom I passed a roomful of girls giggling and shrieking with delight. They had discovered the Ouija board and were asking the names of their future husbands and how many children they’d have.

I’d never seen a Ouija board before and was instantly fascinated. I asked my future husband’s name and got the initials J.C.; number of children, 6. I was also going to be both rich and poor.

When it came my turn to give it a try, the pallet just flew and everyone agreed I had “the power” to really make that old board spell out long, detailed responses. I became the official operator and whipped out some pretty impressive replies on subjects that were verifiable.

One of the girls asked who she had been in a past life and got an answer so I decided to ask the same question. The board spelled out, “Julia Elliot,” I asked, when? “1837.” Where? “Elliot Plantation, Virginia.” “Is this my room?” I whispered. The pallet went off the board streaking to the “YES.”

Pressured by my fellow psychic researchers, I wrote a letter of inquiry to the Virginia Historical Society. Some weeks later the reply came: There had been an Elliot Plantation outside of Richmond but it was destroyed during the Civil War. Samuel Elliot had owned it and records showed that he had married a woman from New England named Julia Simpson. There were no precise records of their deaths or if they had ever had children. Such records were as “Gone with the Wind” as the plantation was.

After receiving this astounding validation of the Ouija board’s reliability I developed an absolute phobia about the thing and didn’t touch one again for over ten years. The memory of the room and its nagging mystery appeared to have been solved. Julia must have stood there fearing the approach of the soldiers that destroyed her home. That was the explanation I’d been looking for — but I knew that wasn’t it.

I hadn’t worked that memory since I had been a child and at eighteen I brought more to the effort. Inspired by Zen, I had begun simple meditation and had developed considerable visualization abilities. I considered my next step to be pure scientific research.

I went to the library—the decorative arts section—and pulled out a book of wallpaper designs from the early Victorian period. Sure enough, flipping through the pages, I found a design close enough to be the original. I checked out the book and sprinted back to my dorm room.

I paid extra for the luxury of living alone and locked my door against intrusion. My intentions were between me and my journal; I didn’t even consider telling anyone. At this point in my life, I was extremely reluctant to admit I was psychic to anyone who wasn't a close friend.

Anyway, I put Pachelbel's Canon in D Major on the stereo, positioned the wallpaper book upright and open on a chair angled toward where my head would lay on its pillow. I reclined, relaxed, and gazed at the wallpaper for hours…

For days on and off…. I brought the room up all around me, vividly, but frozen in a precise heartbeat or two of recollection. Waiting, expectant, terrified in that graceful, sunlit room it clarified to a vision of a late afternoon to judge by the rosy quality of light glowing through the windows and doors. The curtains obscured the view, screening details but suggested green trees and blue sky. Through the doors the balcony railing cut off all but a thin slice of perspective, barely a suggestion of trees lining a graveled carriage driveway. I can "see" this or I "know" it because I am inside the persona of “Julia Elliot” standing in this genteel room waiting for a monster to arrive.

I could not move the vision forward in time. The more I plumbed the depths of this static moment in another life the more the waiting horror began to personify. It was a person I waited for, not an army. Just one menacing entity was coming to get me. “Well, well, it was all about the boogie man,” I reported in one of my journal entries. “Typical childhood fear fantasy.” The phenomenon could be easily psychoanalyzed away.

But I learned, and felt deeply that I had indeed been Julia Elliot and that the demon behind the Ouija board had guided me truely. Because of being stuck in that moment, I found myself wandering into the bodily sensations of being Julia Elliot and discovered an amazing familiarity. I dipped into her feelings at that awful moment rather like a moth to a flame. I knew that if I could somehow break through the white heat of her emotions I could get into her mind and know what was going on. This moment had imprinted itself upon my soul because of its extreme emotion and I couldn’t get past that terminal terror. I speculated that this might be the endless moment of Julia’s death, that she had quite simply died of horror. How could anyone tolerate such total fear? It was beyond my experience at the time.

Time goes by. I married a guy with the initials J.C. and we lived in the last place with cheap rent in Buckhead, a super rich neighborhood north of Atlanta. The place was The Crestwood, a decaying prototype of luxury singles apartments. In its hey-day, The Crestwood was elegant living for proper society’s filthy rich spoiled youth between graduation and “settling down.” The building had fallen on hard times. It was roach infested, the plaster was broken, the floors warped. Without central air, it was hell in the summertime. But for $95 a month on the bus line it was a great deal.

It was the summer of ’70, hot and humid. I was wearing a red dress that was a favorite of mine at the time. It was high-waisted with mutton sleeves, sort of Victorian retro. I was sorry I was wearing the dress that day because the heat was killing me. I couldn’t wait to get off the bus and inside my apartment to smear ice cubes all over my naked body.

I was turning the key in the lock when there was a huge shattering to smithereens kind of crash and the apartment door diagonally across the stairwell from me slammed open and a wild-eyed, long-haired man flew out into the hall exclaiming, “Help me! Help me, please!”

Ever the sucker, I stood there, faced him, and said, “Yes?”

He stopped himself about eight feet away from me and gushed breathlessly, “It’s a ghost! He’s followed me! He’s thrown the mirror from the wall!”

I distinctly remember saying, “No kidding! Lemme see!” And pushing this guy aside to enter his apartment. Inside I found an apartment layout exactly like mine in reverse. In the center of the living room floor was a large heavy gold gilt frame with the glittering debris of a smashed mirror radiating about it. Around the room were moving boxes and assorted pieces of furniture, a sofa and chair, a table or two, a lamp.

The distressed victim called from the door, “I hung it over the mantle and he just lifted it off and sailed it over to the middle of the room. Look. See. The nails in the wall aren’t bent. If it had fallen from the wall it would have landed on the hearth. Look!”

He suddenly entered the room, his desire to prove himself overcoming his fear, “Look, I couldn’t throw this thing across the room. I nearly had a hernia just getting it on the wall. Honest. Look at the angle, the way the pieces are scattered, I swear, it sailed through the air and went headfirst into the floor. Try to lift this thing—try it!”

I bent down and felt the weight of the frame. I had followed his points and as an untrained but very educated observer I had to agree that all he said was true. He was an extremely fragile and exhausted looking person, pale and gray-tinged, very like one would suppose a man haunted to look.

After my nod of agreement on the impossibility of his being able to throw the frame himself, he babbled on, “It’s George. It’s a ghost. Honest. Really. A ghost. I swear, O-Gawd, you must think I’m crazy!” He collapsed, head in hands, upon the sofa and began to sob.

I pulled myself together enough to say, “Far out, man, where is it...uh, him...ah...where is the ghost now?”

My distraught host motioned down the hall and wept, “Down the hall, he went into the bedroom.”

Now, let me take a moment to say I was not utterly naive. I was standing in the middle of the room, clearly closer to the open door that he was. The import of the ghost being in the bedroom was not lost on my psychologically attuned sensibilities. I looked at this guy sobbing hysterically on the sofa and considered the possibility that he was a maniac. I edged closer to the door, which also brought me closer to the hallway leading to the bedroom. My adrenaline was definitely pumping.

“George, you say,” I humored the poor fellow, “His name is George. The ghost?”

“Yes,” the fellow sobbed and looked directly at me for the first time. I saw tortured madness in his eyes and edged closer to the door and the hall that branched off beside it.

“A ghost,” I repeated lamely, looking down the hall, then with more bravado, I called, “Hey George! Hey, come-mere, I always wanted to meet a ghost. Come on, ya chicken, come out and — ”

A wind, cold as a day in bitterest January, hit me in the face and stayed. It came like a wind, blowing air against my skin, then froze like a wall against me. I felt paralyzed and terrified. The sensation faded.

My host raved, "He’s here! He’s in the room! He passed through you! Did you feel it?”

I probably said, “O Wow” and “Yeah.” I was stunned.

The maniac continued, “It’s my karma; I’ve got bad karma. This ghost has attached its self to me. It followed me, left its place, you know. This is too weird.”

I now wanted to hear whatever the maniac had to say. All fears for my safety were forgotten. I sat down in the chair opposite and listened to the story he told.

“I came to Atlanta about a year ago with my brother. We rented this house down in Grant Park. Really fine old architecture but all run down. The house had a history — an architect built it, designed it for himself and his bride but something happened and he lost her and became a recluse. He died in the house and we were the first to move in after.

“There was stuff left in the closets and the attic, pictures, letters, pieces of this guy’s life, and my brother and I started to feel close to him. His name was George Sinclair. So it started like a joke—we’d talk to George. We’d be fixing something up, re-plastering and painting, ya’know, fixing the place up and we’d say ‘This is for you, George,’ or ‘Whadaya think, George?’ Stuff like that.

“The first thing was books flying off the shelves. Just flying off, landing all over the room. And doors slamming. And some of my canvases moved across the room. And then — like now — he would be here, you know, cold and terrible and just here. It was like, the more attention he got the more he demanded. He started breaking plates and smashing mirrors and it was just too much. I started to feel sick all the time. And some nights I’d wake up and feel this pressure, like I couldn’t breathe, like George was trying to kill me.

“This friend of ours, she’s psychic, and she told me I had to move. That if I moved I could get away because ghosts are attached to their places. But George is here! He followed me! O Gawd! It’s my karma,” and the damned soul burst into tears all over again.

I felt absolutely no impulse to cross the room and comfort him. This is remarkable because I am exactly the kind of compassionate fool that makes this sort of gesture to sobbing strangers. But in this instance, I was beginning to be gripped by an illogical, albeit justifiable, loathing for this pitiful man.

“Whadaya mean, your karma?” I prompted and the fellow swallowed his tears and continued.

“You see. I did something terrible in my last life. It was an act of passion, no, of rage, of ego, of selfishness so cruel,” he choked, then straightened himself, “I was an old man, a crippled, mean old man and I arranged a marriage for myself to a beautiful young thing. It was cruel and I was cruel to her. She took a lover among the young officers in town. It was natural. They fell in love. But the girl was my property, is how I thought. And I told her so and went to town and killed the lover then came back and killed the girl and myself after setting a fire to burn the whole house to the ground.”

“When was this?” I asked calmly.

“During the Civil War.”

“Where?”

“Virginia,” he replied without hesitation, “I’ve had dreams. All my life. I know. I know who I was and what I did. I blew her away. I blew her away with a shotgun. The blood and the bits splattered up against the roses on the wallpaper and sort of blended in.”

I must have said something or made some sort of noise because he looked directly at me again — and saw me!

“O-Gawd,” he fell forward onto his knees, actually clasping his hands as if in prayer and pleaded, “Please, forgive me, Julia, I’m sorry! Please, forgive me!”

Lightning bolts of incomprehension flashed through my brain and left me senseless. Circuitry overloaded, my system crashed.

A voice of cool, calm assurance spoke, “I don’t want to deal with this right now.” It was my voice but it wasn’t mine! “I do absolve you and forgive you. I was a faithless wife. I made of you a cuckold and your humiliation provoked your rage. I cannot say I deserved it but I understand your actions all the same.”

“Thank you, thank you,” the poor man gibbered. Somehow I am standing now and he is at my feet, fawning. I feel totally embarrassed and start backing out of the room. That Voice speaks again, “There is still karma, however modified, and we will meet again but not in this here and now, not this lifetime. Be gone and don’t cross my path again.”

“I’ll move tonight!” The madman declared, “Take George! Take George and I’ll be gone in the morning!”

By then I was running across the stairwell, finding the key where I’d left it in the lock then slammed the door behind me and pulled my current self back together. When my husband got home, I told him about the encounter. His reaction was, “You’re so weird.”

The next morning the door of the apartment across the way was wide open and its rooms quite obviously empty. Only a few glittering splinters remained on the floor as slight evidence of my experience. Then, the next day when my husband got home as he walked past the bookshelves three books shot off their shelves at him. He glared at me! “How’d ya do that?”

“I did nothing,” I protested. Then the bedroom door down the hall slammed shut. “Just ignore it,” I suggested, “If we don’t give it any attention it will go away.”

He was aghast, “Are you saying that guy’s gho—.”

“Don’t talk about it,” I interrupted, “It is simply not happening. Don’t feed it.”

The next day when I got home from work, it was 98 degrees and so humid the air felt like a pressure cooker. I was heading out of the kitchen when I walked into a blast of arctic air. It was George, of course, and my first thought was gratitude for the cool relief from the heat. But then I realized — without knowing how I knew — that the cold, the paralysis, the tingling fear that comes from being next to a ghost is caused by the fact that it’s bleeding the life force from you! My reaction was like the old David Steinberg comedy routine.

David Steinberg - The Psychiatrist https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7CXOgKMVSB4&t=161s

The bit starts at the 1:35 and I acted it out by grabbing the ghost off my shoulder as I shouted, “Get Off!” Followed by a blast of obscenities, wind-milling my arms like a mad woman, focused my will, and pushed George out of my life. That’s the end of that story and every time I told it I acted out the comedy bit then laughed like a maniac to set off my audience's laughter.

(By the way, I only have two children but I also had four miscarriages so on some level the Ouija board was right about that, too.)

#Weird Anecdotes #Wallpaper Roses #a ghost story

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twentyminutemiso · 1 year

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Below is pasted from notes on September 2022 Los Angeles trip:

Dish soap Big water Cleanser Wound wash Towel Cash More milk Toilet roll £7

Shirley’s ihg number 430953641

Extraordinary attourney wu - netflix Mr queen

Go pocha Jay jay gastropub Studio city Venice canals Halloween horror night universal

G eazy no limit 1975 and gods plan in shirleys car

Poopourri Botanical curtain Fluffy pink headgear Verbena handwash Goldfish tank

Prawn ceviche Oyster shot Eggy cream with cinnamon Amanda’s eyes are red and watering because someone’s chopping onions

Do you wanna see my garage A tiny pink set with a pink bar and pink glasses on it A cockroach with cowboy boots She hands me a pair of inline skates, do you know how to rollerskate?

Amanda’s eyes are still watering Bo makes angie and cesar a sandwich each and he makes me a sub with a banana and cheese and orange slices in it Angie has stomach cramps and doesnt want to come to goodwill

A tiny light blue grandma dress with doilies on it for amanda but it’s for children Phil collins playing in goodwill

Does bo want to get ice cream. Pumpkin pie flavor. Lemon flavour for amanda. We’re dropping off jade how long until we get there? 3 minutes 1 2 3 we’re not there yet. No you have to count to 60 three times. Where’s my road it’s the left or the right i forget. Two okay signs in the sunshine

Los alcos plaza Melrose avenue Go rollerskating at the beach with amanda

Ben and joyce at the korean restaurant. Ben’s english but he tells me he’s really thrown by an asian person with an english accent. He also met a french chinese person recently and that blew his mind too. Joyce is a pretty korean american with her hair dyed light brown. She swears kookily and calls you bitch in not a completely authentic way.

Velvet sofas. A pair of bears reading in bed.

A crack in the window in the shower ktown. Sunny yellow building roofs palm trees satellite dishes.

Cool burger place chinatown vinyl flooring hipsters in window lots of picture frames breakfast sandwich restaurant called amboys

Older guy purple hat check shirt camo pants dog boombox hanging in right hand playing street fame waking kinda hunched

John chamberlain and larry bell The first foam contorted bodies the other mirrored glass cubes “west coast minimalism”. A small foam like a conch shell.

Mika rottenbeeg. A tractor plows the ground close up thundering. Gelatine tubes candy coloured slicing oddly satisfying. Plop. Water steams off metal surface. Tubes slap slap slap slap poke poke. Salt salt. Rotating hexagons like a gear turning. hun mming like a didgeridoo back of the space shuttle. Mongolian throat singers. Pink candyfloss melts red on the metal like bloody goo. Red outfit on mongolian. Kind of like educational childrens videos

Ppl browsing a 2 dollar store

Interactive sculptures ponytail flicks and plants go up and down and LED light grows cress

An eighties powersuited woman with a blow dry opens doors through liminal colourblocked office rooms and a soap bubble quivers and dips

Ppl in boujie gallery understand the british water request

Mazda miama

You owe shirley twenty for the dinner

My phone number 6263713004

Art picks me from a dark creepy san marino street. Most expensive place in all of LA, you can’t get away from crime anywhere.

capital_a_la Thursday Sunset rooftop - say art’s name Sunday - boardwalk venice beach Friday South central

Everyone wants to be friends here

Aiyi hands me a persimmon while I’m zooming. I leave the desk. We eat jujubes, crisp and bright white inside, green skins. and a chilled avocado and the persimmon skinned and quartered. I was peeling it and she said i was being wasteful so she peels it instead. She gives me an apple from costco.

I’m so excited that ive driven myself to cvs i feel untouchable. Is this self actualisation

Steve Lacy plays again on Kiss on the way to Paru’s place.

Get to Paru’s place, bart simpson pinata. Books. Sitting on the tatami. Little pea chips, a rice cake with kiwis and blueberries and coconut. Peanuts, small bowls set down gently from a tray. Water (with ice!!!). Paru plays us two songs, ones a space vibe, beepy with guitars that their mentor put over the top. Their voice is really good. Making bao with clay. Drying from the lacquer. They laugh say it seems to be the dumb creative phase they’re currently going through.

Tora i

At the art show. Hard seltzer. Very cute bartender boy with braces. Gives me apologetic smiles every time I ask for something because they don’t have it. We see Jem inside with her friend, Austin, a Korean fashion design boy who works for Levi’s she’s met 2 days ago at Byredo where she works. They went swimming at his hotel pool and today they went to a Nike party and Austin was the only one not wearing Nike. Jason comes to meet us because he has a crush on Jem and it only takes him like 5 minutes to get there. 30 dollar pizzas and we eat it family style. A pappardelle with ragu and I love it. Austin flirts with me and i’m technically flirting back cos I keep smelling his wrist, until I get slightly uncomfortable and then I’m trying to angle my body towards Paru. He’s a little more drunk than everyone else and has a rich international boy aura.

We’re in Virgil village. Jason and Paru realise they’re barely two blocks away from each other. You see that duplex? I’m on the left one. We pass a taco place that’s just been trying to start up. Paru wants to see what’s up with Jason and Jem and he should text her if he has some thoughts and he says let us know if we’re going to her show on Sunday.

Guangchangwu and fantuan and soy milk in garvey park. Kiki doesn’t make noise. She’s a quiet baby. Shirley says rubbing Kiki’s belly.

LACA

22.50 ramen

Root beer cheese burger lemon wedge with my ice tea.

Go utah its crazy

Four storey high fountains in echo park. Man fishing and ellaella says it’s like putting down a community lot in the sims and the townies come. Woman unbuttoning shirt and puts hubbys hand onto her breast and she’s gripping his arm. Lotus flowers on the corner of the pond.

Things i read at heavy manners Sunday in the park with boys - jane mai - depressed schoolgirl comic. Drawings of objects for titles. Bartkira. Steps and colors in the outer sunset (sf)

Passing by the heavy petting woman

Cotton on jungle park jc penney forever 21 macy’s. Fashion nova store

An angel called osh at the tattoo store.

Nina molloy paints a copper koi on a panoramic ghostly blue canvas in a sheer green square pond with copper lily pads. Tidawikney lek’s napping girl in on the sofa with creeping hands and flower prints on the sofa and real flowers and a tiny island in the sunset through the balcony door and palm trees because i’m in LA. Dominique fongs orange deep dea diver in swampy water with many limbs holding vines catching fish but is she a statue covered in life spearing some fish. Bambou gili ghostly diners with summer rolls duck dark space.

Peach and black tea kombucha in a millenial brewery venture

Aunty brings a handful of pineapple guavas. Talking in the kitchen about taiwan, not liking tourism but liking driving around america because of the freedom, doing 100 miles stretches at a time and feeling relieved to see a petrol station, visiting a friend in colorado, going to yellowstone with her friend, not finding a hotel, deciding to go camping instead

Boba photoshoots at the library, Mariah in the car, windy on venice beach. Peas and feathery leaves on the street trees. Polly pocket houses. Wearing my rolex and mina rolls down the window and does a cheesy british radio announcer voice. Doja. 70s cinema and cringe rubbish bin act.

The red lion tavern. Cigarette vending machine. The smiths to die by your side. Green box of american spirit menthols. Never seen straights

Owe felix 50 for the baseball tix

Coffee Water Butter Bread Oil Batteries

Mina making blueberry pancakes. Gecko on the tree stump.

On the tram ella says it feels like when they go to westworld, getting off its like entering scientologist hq. Tinkling and euphoric music like the sims. Cy twombly exhibtion. Greek god names scratched into paint and written with oil pastels with urgency. A carnivalesque painting by belgian charles ensor and a guy has a chode face. Kampoinge. Three children long shadows on a new york street turned 90 so their shadows are vertical. Watching a video of rye crawling in the garden in edmonton while im looking at art.

… Who sanctions this violent dismemberment- Reaps the barren, crusty smell of denial- Archaeological masks, drums, look clumsily On museum walls

Hung twisted awestruck Witness to this absurdity

Louis Draper Camera magazine july 1966

Ballroom neon lights at the urban outfitters in downtown. Car trunk table for dining in the pa ord parking lot.

Eames house. Fittonia? Purple leaves with green edging. Mina notices.

Traffic loud on the road by santa monica. Three helicopters and we look up at each one. Teenage boys ask mina for squad pics. Three angles a serious one and a silly one and squatting. Purple building lights coming back from the toilet. An apartment block like a covent garden soup.

Pier. Cheesy guitar players. Northern chinese family with camping chairs fishing off the end of the pier. One mad one with four rods. Lettering man bumping guangchangwu tunes. Rasping aero smith in rusty’s bar.

Smokey robinson then dangelo cruising. Picking up ella’s hoodie from LA apparel the most gta scene yet.

At Watts Towers whose construction materials include ten thousand sea shells. 99ft cos city hall was 100ft. Simon loved hearts. Sankofas as well. Four year old girl sundress in gaps between white chairs still sunny. Kouman kele west African dance company

Outside seven eleven getting white claw for our night out, two chinese bros scratching their scratchcard on the car bonnet.

Dodgers, walking from top deck to centrefield because they had to put the bags away. Felix and nadia. Luke had to run to theater rehearsal. Didnt get my hotdog. Steward with a colourful beaded necklace tells me i’m not shy.

One piece playing on the tv in the japanese restaurant we went to pee in when me and mina are walking from the bus we got from Night+Market, to Felix’s. Hello kitty lipbalm in family mart.

Mina photoshopping me and ella into a picture of the beach, ella giving opinion

At the huntington library exhibition olde english vibes and ella says i love it when the letter s is the f. Square japanese courtyard garden bonsais around the perimeter. Wooden hut. Wooden bridge over the creek slosh slosh moss rocks glimmering. So many different biomes we’ve enjoyed today ella says it looks like legend of zelda. Sitting down on concrete bench and ella bobs around taking different angles of the Japanese gardens and saying wtf.

Beautiful multicoloured tins of coffee trader joes.

Kylie can’t get you out of my head in the sunset. I love you wittle turtle boy everybody goes slow. <3 theres holes in the los angeles life. Pizza and bagels and sleet. (Not that much grass) bonnie tyler. Cant fight this feeling while driving in the night.Tacos at the place near Luke’s. Later on, I find out from Mina that they are discussing how our date is going and Felix is looking at Luke on find my friends and laughing because Luke’s getting tacos next to their house (assuming they are alone)

Karen on kost fm extremely lovely and sentimental.

Sad on the Flyaway, tired but trying to keep my eyes open so i make the most of this place. Palm trees and cars cruising on the freeway next to me always cars and the flyaway is the fastest. Aircon blasting.

Piccadilly back to the ends. Listen to clairo to heal the pain. The west london terraces are okay. Memories of car journeys and bar conversations swirling. Kind of beautiful to notice the place you live even if you’re sad.

Fawziyah posts a story about unrelaxing into city life. ‘Being present is the meeting point between holding on and letting go’

0 notes

you-didnt-see-that-cuming · 4 years

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Shy Glances | George Weasley x Reader

Summary: George Weasley was quite possibly the most perfect man to ever exist. He’s smart, funny, charming, and incredibly handsome. Pansy Parkinson has known about her roommate and best friend, Y/N’s crush on George for while, watching her do nothing about it. Pansy decides that it’s time for her to take matters into her own hands and quite literally pushes the two of them together with the help of Fred Weasley. All they really did was speed fate up a little bit.

Warnings: Smut towards the end

Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: This took me a while to finish, it was a request from an anon so I’m hoping that I did their vision justice! This ended up being over 28 pages so it’s a nice long one for you guys!

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Ever since Umbridge had taken over teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, spirits at Hogwarts were not exactly high. The only things that managed to put a smile on anyone’s face were the Weasley twins’ ridiculous pranks and the weekend trips to Hogsmeade. Occasionally, a loud explosion would go off in a nearby hallway, followed closely by the shrieking of Umbridge and the smiles of students who had witnessed whatever had happened.

Despite the twins being identical, Y/N had always had a crush on George. Fred always seemed to be the one to start the chaos that followed them around, but there was something different about George, he was more compassionate, he genuinely cared about other people. The Hogsmeade weekend before the beginning of the Christmas holidays was the subject of almost everyone’s conversations. It had snowed for almost two days straight and Christmas decorations were already being erected around the castle, only adding to the general feeling of excitement.

Y/N was feeling excited for a whole other reason. The Hogsmeade trips were some of the only chances she had to see George. Being in different houses and years complicated things, and staring throughout mealtimes wasn’t exactly subtle.

The morning of the trip to Hogsmeade, Y/N and Pansy were woken up abruptly to the sound of feet running down the hallway towards the common room.

“Damn! What time is it?” Pansy grumbled. She wasn’t exactly a morning person and interrupting her sleep was not a good way to get on her good side. She stretched her hand out to the bedside table and blindly felt around for her watch. Bringing it up to her eyes, Pansy suddenly turned her face into her pillow and screamed in frustration.

Y/N tried to blink the sleep from her eyes, staring up at the velvet green canopy above the bed. It was dark in the room, the heavy curtains that had been drawn the night before, blocking out the sunlight from the windows at the top of the high ceiling. The only light currently in the room came from the crackling fireplace in the corner across from their beds and the strings of fairy lights that they had taken from the Great Hall to liven the place up. Rolling onto her side to face Pansy, who had now waved her wand to light some of the lamps that were scattered around the room, Y/N yawned loudly and stretched her arms over her head.

“It is absolutely disgusting that we have to be awake this early, absolutely no respect for other people,” Pansy continued grumbling about her disturbed sleep as she swept the covers dramatically to the side.

The fire began glowing a little brighter once Pansy’s feet touched the rug covered floor. Y/N soon swung her legs off the bed before sliding out from under the heavy comforter. Pansy flicked her wand and the curtains swished open. It was snowing heavily, and by the looks of it, it had been snowing through the night. There was already a substantial layer of snow on the bottom of the window sill.

“C’mon, we better get going before everyone leaves without us.” Pansy had already pulled on a pair of jeans and was sliding a black turtleneck over her head. Y/N walked over to her trunk and began pulling items out.

“What should I wear? I was thinking a sweater, I want to stay warm.” Y/N held up a cream fisherman’s sweater for Pansy to look at.

“Ooh, you need to wear that one, you always look pretty in it. George is going to love it on you.” Pansy smirked at that last bit, dodging a rogue pillow that Y/N threw at her head.

“We don’t even know if he’ll be at Hogsmeade today,” Y/N looked down and began fiddling with the hem of the sweater she was holding. “Besides, I heard that he was interested in Alicia Spinnet, they’re always at Quidditch practice together.”

“Just get dressed will you? You’re being ridiculous. I’m going to brush my teeth, I’ll wait for you in the common room.” Pansy pulled a sherpa jacket around her shoulders and a knit hat before she swept out of the room leaving Y/N to herself.

Y/N sighed and pulled the sweater over her head. Pansy was right, she did always look good in that sweater, especially when she wore it with something green to make her eyes pop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pansy was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Y/N finally walked into the common room.

“Agh! It’s about time! Let’s go, the last group is leaving in a few minutes.”

The two girls hurried out of the common room and up through the stairs of the dungeons. Once they had reached the courtyard where the last Hogsmeade group was congregating, Pansy pulled Y/N close to her side and whispered into her ear.

“Listen, I spoke to some people and they said that George is definitely going to Hogsmeade today. This is your chance to actually say something to him!”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond to Pansy when her eyes fell on George Weasley jogging into the courtyard next to Harry Potter and his brother Ron. He was laughing at something Harry had said as he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back carelessly. He was in a maroon sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his wand loosely grasped in his left hand. He began twirling them across his fingers before Y/N forced herself to turn around.

“You alright? You look like you’re about to be sick,” Pansy asked. She hadn’t seen George walk into the courtyard yet.

Y/N shook her head and straightened her back. She put a smile on her face and turned to Pansy.

“I am absolutely fine!”

Pansy had a frown on her face as she studied Y/N’s reaction. Once she had seen George over Y/N’s shoulder, her face dawned in realization.

“You absolute idiot, I thought you were dying for a second, what’s wrong with you?” Pansy lightly punched Y/N’s shoulder.

Y/N began making excuses when Professor McGonagall’s voice rang out around the courtyard.

“Could I have everyone’s attention? Now, this is the last trip to Hogsmeade before the winter recess and I expect everyone to be on their best behavior. I don’t want to have to send an owl to anyone’s parents after today so let’s not ruin a nice holiday,” She gave a pointed look towards George, who only smiled brightly in response. “Alright, remember to be back at the castle by 6 o’clock, promptly!”

People began filing out of the courtyard and walking down the path to get to the main road that led into Hogsmeade. Pansy looped her arm around Y/N’s, pulling her close into her side.

“I want to stay warm, I wasn’t built for cold weather.” Pansy was shivering, even through the heavy jacket she was wearing. She looked down at Y/N’s outfit with a hint of jealousy. “Ugh, I wish I had thought of wearing corduroy trousers, my legs are freezing. I like that color on you though, house pride and all that.”

Y/N was wearing some green corduroy pants, the cream sweater she had pulled from her trunk, and one of her Slytherin scarfs that her mother had knit for her a few years before. She unwrapped the scarf from her neck and placed it around Pansy’s shoulders.

“Here, wear this if you’re so cold then.”

Pansy smiled and squinted her eyes shut.

“Ooh, thank youuuuu! You know I love you right? This is why we’re best friends.”

“Why, because I give you my clothes when you’re cold?” Y/N asked, laughing a little.

“Yes, was that not clear from the moment we met?” Pansy’s serious tone didn’t match her smiling face. Hogsmeade was slowly coming into sight down the hill.

“C’mon, I want to get some Fizzing Whizbees and Chocolate Frogs, we can go get a butterbeer to warm up a little after that,” Pansy started running down the hill, pulling Y/N along as they ran past the rest of the group and made a bee-line to Honeydukes.

Honeydukes was one of the best places to visit in Hogsmeade. There was no better sweets shop in all of England, the entire place was filled to the brim with different assortments of candies and chocolates. For Christmas, the entire place was decorated in red, white, and green decorations and the air smelled like gingerbread and caramel. Needless to say, it was difficult to not be in the Christmas spirit once you walked into the shop.

Y/N was looking through the different flavors of licorice ropes when Pansy began drawing her attention to the two different types of chocolate frogs they had that she was pretending to be interested in.

Pansy’s eyes glittered in the way they usually did whenever she was planning something mischievous, but before Y/N could say anything, Pansy’s hands collided with her shoulders and shoved her backwards.

Y/N stumbled back a few steps before she crashed up against someone.

“Oof!” Y/N felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. “Oh my god, I am so so sorr-” Y/N stopped apologizing as she turned around and looked up to see whose chest it was that she had just slammed into. To her surprise, she was soon staring into the eyes of George Weasley.

George had a surprised look on his face before a mischievous smile took its place. Now that Y/N was this close to him, she could smell his cologne. It was intoxicating. Notes of evergreen and birch smoke wafted across his chest and Y/N felt her knees go weak.

“Oh you don’t have to apologize, I should have been watching where I was going,” George’s eyes narrowed a little, the smile still present on his face. “I don’t think I know your name. I’m George, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Uh, my name is Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

It was quiet for a few seconds as the two stared at one another before Pansy suddenly appeared next to Y/N.

“Hey, are you ready to go? I want a butterbeer.”

“Um, what?” Y/N asked, a little dazed. She didn’t get an answer to her question before Pansy was dragging her by the arm towards the door. Y/N looked back at George, only to find him staring back at her, a confused smile on his face. The two made eye contact for a second before the door slammed shut and he disappeared from view.

“Oh my god! What the bloody hell was that?! I shove you into him, hoping you’ll take that moment and seduce him with those bedroom eyes you make at him all the time, but no! Instead, you stare at him and become fucking Bambi!”

Y/N gaped at Pansy who was still dragging her down the street.

“Wha- I do not make bedroom eyes at him!”

Pansy gave her an exasperated look.

“Now I really do need a butterbeer, and you’re paying.” Pansy sighed before they walked into the Three Broomsticks.

After Pansy had gotten two steaming mugs of butterbeer, the two of them sat down at an empty table in the middle of the tavern. Madam Rosmerta had obviously spared no expense with the decorations and had put up evergreen garlands and red bows across the walls and beams. It was easy to feel comfortable and at home in the Three Broomsticks.

The two girls were chatting aimlessly to distract themselves as they sipped on their butterbeers until the entrance to the tavern blew open. Their eyes were drawn to the door as the Weasley twins walked in, followed closely by Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger. They were shaking snow off of their heads and stomping their boots when Y/N felt Pansy’s hand squish her cheeks and turn her head towards her.

“Hey! You need to keep it together this time, alright?” Pansy let go of Y/N’s cheeks and went back to her butterbeer as if nothing happened. Y/N was rubbing her cheek when someone cleared their throat.

Standing next to their table, was George, who was towering over the two of them with a kind smile on his face.

“Hey,” His voice was soft and reminded Y/N of melted caramel and velvet. “I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye back in Honeydukes. I think I’ve seen you around Hogwarts, you’re in my brother’s year, right?”

“Oh! Yeah, I am, we’re in the same Potions class together I’m pretty sure. He’s really nice.”

The two of them stared at one another for a few seconds before Pansy finally broke the silence.

“So! Y/N here was actually just telling me about how much she liked your most recent prank on Umbridge with the firecrackers in her office.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, Fred Weasley appeared right next to George.

“Does she now? Well, I can tell you for a fact, that George was the brains behind that one.”

Fred and Pansy shared a knowing look with one another while Y/N and George both shyly made eye contact.

“Um, yeah, I thought it was really clever of you guys, I heard that Umbridge was trying to get rid of the smell of it for weeks. She still smells like smoke sometimes in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

The twins smiled and laughed a little at your response.

“Yeah, apparently Umbridge spent four hours trying to get rid of it before she gave up,” George said, a little bashfully.

Fred and George pulled two chairs up to their table and the four continued talking, especially George and Y/N. By the time it was almost time to head back, the two were heavily invested in listening to the other’s voice. The entire walk back to the castle, George and Y/N both fell into a comfortable conversation that ended far too quickly.

They were talking about their favorite books when they reached the entrance to the Great Hall.

“Unfortunately, this is where I have to leave you, Ms. L/N,” George said in a solemn, posh voice. Y/N smiled.

“I suppose so Mr. Weasley. Until we meet again.” Y/N gave a shy little curtsy in response. George grabbed Y/N’s hand and swept into a deep bow before kissing the top of her hand.

The two then parted ways, heading to their respective house tables where they continued to sneak glances and stares at one another through the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Y/N was still thinking about George. Occasionally, their eyes would meet from across the room in the Great Hall or as they passed by one another in the hallways. It was difficult to think about anything but George.

However, on the last few days remaining before the winter holidays started, George stopped showing up around school. In fact, all of the Weasleys seemed to have disappeared from Hogwarts.

By the time the Hogwarts Express came to take everyone back home for the holidays, Y/N had given up on looking for him. Pansy was good at distracting Y/N by coming up with different plans to see each other before school resumed. This distracting continued up until they reached Platform 9 ¾.

The first three days of the break were peaceful and relaxing, a much-needed change from the O.W.L exams preparation the professors at school had them doing. On the fourth day, Y/N received a large barn owl carrying a letter. It had crashed into one of the closed kitchen windows during breakfast, completely missing the open one right next to it. After making sure that the owl was uninjured and able to stand back up on its feet, Y/N looked at the letter that the owl had been carrying.

The front of the envelope was addressed to Y/N in a messy scrawl of blue ink. Once she had opened the letter and scanned to the bottom of the page to see who it was from, her eyes widened.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back, this is important.” Y/N quickly excused herself from the table and ran to her room where she leaped onto her bed in order to read the letter thoroughly.

Dear Y/N,

I hope your holiday is going well! I know I had to leave pretty suddenly before the break and I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye or even spend a lot of time with you. Maybe we could spend a Hogsmeade trip together when we get back?

- George Weasley

Once Y/N had read through the letter another three times, just to make sure she had actually read it correctly, she turned and screamed into her pillow.

After laying there for a few seconds, contemplating what to do next, she quickly ran over to her desk and pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from the drawer. Dipping the quill into the open inkwell that was sitting in front of her, she began writing a letter to Pansy.

Dear Pansy,

I have just received a letter from George Weasley! He has asked me to spend a Hogsmeade trip with him once we get back to school. How do I respond?! What do I say?

-Y/N

Y/N blew on the page to dry the ink and quickly folded the letter into thirds before shoving it into an envelope and closing it with a wax seal. In green ink, she wrote Pansy’s name and address before rushing back into the kitchen. She would need to send the letter by the family owl, Athena.

“Mum, I’m going to borrow Athena, I have a letter I need to send to Pansy.” Y/N didn’t wait for a response before she opened Athena’s cage and let her hop onto her wrist. She held out the envelope and the owl took it in its beak.

“Take this to Pansy, alright? Make sure she writes back immediately.”

With a muffled hoot, Athena flapped her wings before taking off and soaring out through the window and over the treeline.

Only a few hours later, Y/N received a response from Pansy.

Dear Y/N,

I was going to send a Howler with Owlexander, but Mum said I couldn’t. Apparently, Owlexander would get too spooked if the Howler went off mid-flight. SAY YES!! Tell him that you would love to spend a Hogsmeade trip with him and that you are looking forward to it. Also, ask about how he is doing and stuff like that if you want to keep receiving letters from him during the holiday.

-Pansy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once it was time to return to Hogwarts, Y/N was filled with dread and excitement. On one hand, she would be seeing George for the first time since they had started writing letters to one another. On the other, Umbridge and the other professors would be piling on the homework and O.W.L.s preparation to the point that Y/N probably wouldn’t even be able to enjoy spending time with George.

Y/N didn’t see George until they were disembarking from the train once they had arrived at Hogsmeade station. He was standing with the rest of his siblings, as well as Hermione and Harry. When the two had finally made eye contact, Y/N gave a shy wave to George. However, once George raised his hand to wave back, Ron’s voice spoke loudly.

“Is that the Slytherin girl you fancy, George?”

Y/N had to stifle a giggle as George’s face went red and he quickly elbowed Ron in the stomach. Y/N felt Pansy’s hand close around hers, pulling her off towards the carriages that were waiting to take the students back up to the castle. Once they had arrived at an available carriage, Y/N began looking around for a familiar glimpse of copper hair but was quickly yanked in. Pansy was yet again ill-prepared for the cold winter weather and was shivering so hard that the seat was almost vibrating.

“Close the door, I want to keep as much of the warm air in.” Pansy’s sock-clad feet were pushed up against the small metal furnace in the middle of the floor. She gave a smirk as she leaned back against the cushioned seats. “You can invite Weasley to join us if he happens to ‘walk’ by.”

Y/N continued looking out the window, hoping for even the smallest sign of George, but the fogging of the windows only made it more difficult to see anything through the crowd of black robes.

Soon enough, the carriage was filled with some girls from Ravenclaw who had managed to get a last-minute seat before the carriages began up the path.

Pansy noticed Y/N’s defeated look and lightly poked her leg.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, you’ll see each other in only a few minutes, then you guys can stare at each other all through dinner.”

Throughout the feast, Y/N and George made eye contact several times which was closely followed by fierce blushes. Their glances couldn’t have been more obvious, and by the time Professor Dumbledore had cleared their plates and dismissed them from the Great Hall, both Pansy and Fred were shoving Y/N and George towards one another so that they could finally talk.

Their paths finally crossed when they walked through the large wooden doors that guarded the entrance to the Great Hall. George pulled Y/N aside and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Can I walk you back to your dormitory?”

Together, they took the long way down to the dungeons, talking quietly.

“How was your holiday?” Y/N asked once they had started the descent into the dungeons.

George gave a strained smile in response.

“It was alright, I’m sure you must have heard about my dad and everything.”

Y/N felt a surge of sympathy, her parents had come home from working at the Ministry with the news of what had happened to Mr. Weasley.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry that you all had to go through that. I’m glad he’s alright now, Mum and Dad said that St. Mungos had discharged him.”

“Yeah, we were all really relieved to hear that he was going to be okay. But what about you, how was your holiday?”

“It was alright, nice and relaxing, you know? But it could have been better.”

George had a confused smile on his face at her last comment.

“Oh? How so?”

They had finally reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room when Y/N turned to answer him.

“It would have been better if I had been able to see you.” Y/N then entered the common room and left George with his mouth hanging open slightly in surprise and a vibrant flush across his cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting in the Astronomy Tower late at night was one of Y/N’s favorite ways to distract herself from the stress of assignments and exams. On nights when Astronomy classes weren’t being held, Y/N would lie on her back and watch the night sky through the enchanted ceiling. Focusing on finding constellations in the silence and stillness was meditative.

It was crisp in the tower, and Y/N choice of sleep shorts and one of Pansy’s silk pajama tops didn’t do much to fend off the cold breeze. Y/N was lost in thought when a sudden knocking on the side of the door alerted her to another person’s presence. She turned to see George leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed across his chest. He was wearing some plaid pajama pants and a loose, black t-shirt. He looked really good in casual clothes like this. The corner of his mouth was turned up slightly in a reassuring smile.

“Hey,” Y/N said in a soft voice.

“You don’t mind if I join you, do you?” George asked, taking a few steps into the room.

Y/N smiled and shook her head.

“Not at all.”

A comfortable silence surrounded them for a brief moment.

“So what brings you up here this late at night?” George asked, now leaning against one of the window sills.

“I like to come up and watch the stars, it’s a nice way to relax after a long day.” Y/N looked at him quizzically. “I could ask you the same question, what are you doing up here?”

George laughed quietly before pulling out a piece of parchment from his pajama bottom’s pockets.

“I received an owl at my window with this letter.”

George unfolded the parchment and read aloud.

“Y/N is up in the Astronomy Tower by herself. Go for it.”

Y/N turned to hide the blush that was forming across her face. There was no doubt in her mind that Pansy had sent that letter, she was the only one who knew where Y/N had gone to.

“You know, I wanted to ask you to Hogsmeade earlier, before we left for the holidays.” George was looking at his feet, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I was too scared to ask you when we were in Hogsmeade, I didn’t think you would say yes.”

Y/N studied George’s posture closely. His shoulders were curled in, he seemed to be trying to make himself look as small as possible without being too conspicuous.

“Well now you know that there is nothing to be scared about,” Y/N hesitated before pushing herself away from the wall she was leaning on. “Come and help me get some blankets from the closet, I’m pretty sure Professor Sinistra keeps some extras in there.”

George had a bemused expression on his face, but followed Y/N to a small closet door. Inside the closet were scrolls of parchment, planetary charts, and astrological drawings for Professor Sinistra’s classes, some dusty telescopes, and rolls of blankets that were used for cold nights.

Spreading the blankets on the floor, they laid down next to one another, staring at the sky above them. There wasn’t a cloud in sight and the stars were bright, the perfect night for stargazing. They watched the sky silently before Y/N broke the silence.

“That constellation over there is Perseus,” Y/N was pointing to a cluster of stars above them, “I always loved hearing his story in class.”

“Why’s that?”

There was a beat of silence.

“He was one of the only Greek heroes who actually had a happy ending. That’s all any of us really want, a happy ending.”

“Well, what was Perseus’ happy ending?”

Y/N smiled to herself.

“He got the girl and married a princess.”

George was quiet for a moment before he responded.

“Yeah, that does sound like a happy ending.”

Y/N felt George’s fingers brush against the back of her hand. She opened her palm and felt George’s hand clasp hers, their fingers intertwining together.

“You know, if you had asked me during that first Hogsmeade trip, I would have said yes.” Y/N spoke softly. It was quiet between them once again and Y/N turned her head to the side.

George had turned onto his side to look at Y/N. The usual mischievous smirk was gone, replaced instead by a look of relief and a gentle smile resting on his lips.

Y/N’s eyes flitted down to his mouth before looking into his eyes once again.

George’s other hand came up to her face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before stroking her cheek. His thumb traced down her cheek and around the outline of her lips, parting them slightly.

Y/N softly bit down on his thumb, a smile behind her eyes. George withdrew his hand a little before gently tilting her chin towards him. Y/N raised her hand to caress his cheek and pulled him into a soft kiss.

His lips were soft and warm, and she felt herself melt into his embrace. The kiss felt sweet and comforting, almost like warm honey running down her throat. She hadn’t realized how pliant she had become in his grasp until he moved his hand to the small of her back and around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. Y/N could feel the warmth of his chest pressing against her own, fending off the crisp coolness that had filled the tower.

Her hand that was resting on his cheek moved to the back of his neck and she tangled her fingers through his hair. A low moan resonated from his throat and he gripped her waist, pulling her even closer to him.

Her heart was racing and she felt a spark in the pit of her stomach that was growing more ravenous by the second. George pulled back a little, breaking the kiss before he started kissing down her neck, slowly tracing a line to her collarbone.

Euphoria couldn’t even begin to describe what Y/N was feeling as George’s hands slid underneath her shirt, his hands warm and comforting.

With a sudden burst of bravery, Y/N took their still clasped hands and guided them to her sleep shorts. George froze for a second before slowly drawing back.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you into anything you don’t want to do.” His face had a nervous expression painted across it.

“I’m sure. Are you?” Y/N studied his face, his mouth twitching into a smile.

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure.”

George pulled the sleep shorts down Y/N’s legs, who kicked them off carelessly to a corner of the tower. Y/N felt a shiver course down her body once her legs were fully exposed to the night’s air.

George pushed himself up, his legs straddling Y/N’s waist, and pulled his shirt over his head in one, seamless movement. His body was toned, no doubt from the hours of Quidditch practice, and the way the silver light coming through the open windows glanced off his body made it look like moonlight was made just for him.

George’s head was cocked to the side, as if he was considering what to do next. His eyes looked heavy and dark, a stark contrast to their usual bright and lively expression.

“Why don’t you take that off for me?”

He nodded to the sleep shirt that Y/N was still wearing. Y/N’s hands moved slowly, undoing the buttons carefully. After the shirt had been completely undone, George brushed the fabric off her shoulders. He paused for a moment, looking at Y/N, before he cupped the back of her head and pulled her into another kiss. There was something different about him now though, this kiss felt more passionate and heated. Y/N’s hands were embracing George’s cheek and the back of his head, once again tangling themselves in his soft hair.

George’s hips were slowly grinding down into Y/N’s, setting off sparks deep within her stomach. Her reaction to his touch made her reflect for a moment, no one else had ever had this kind of effect on her before, no one else made her swoon just by looking her way, and certainly no one had made her fall apart under their touch.

Y/N’s hand traced down George’s neck, down his chest, and down to the waistband of his pants. He seemed to understand what she was asking and wordlessly pushed the elastic band down, kicking the pants somewhere haphazardly. The sparks Y/N had felt in the pit of her stomach earlier were coming back in full force.

George pushed Y/N’s legs apart and slotted himself in between them, pulling her hips closer to his face. There was a smile behind his eyes as he pressed a kiss to each of her hip bones, never breaking eye contact.

“You know, I have been wanting to do this for ages,” George began kissing up the inside of her thigh. Y/N threw her head back, her eyes closed as she reveled in his touch.

Y/N didn’t have time to respond as George’s thumb found and slowly circled her clit. A low moan escaped from her and Y/N threaded her fingers through the fringe on his head. Y/N could feel his smile against her thigh.

“But don’t worry, I’m about to make it up to the both of us.”

His thumb drew back suddenly, and Y/N was about to groan in protest until she felt his tongue take its place. Her grip on his hair tightened between her fingers. Y/N’s breaths were shallow now as she tried to keep her voice down. But with each passing moment, she found it more difficult to keep the sounds at bay.

George’s tongue expertly moved, making Y/N fall apart with each passing moment. It was almost as if time didn’t exist, all that mattered was the pleasure that Y/N was experiencing and that George was the one making her feel this way.

Y/N felt the pressure in her stomach begin to rise and grow in intensity. Each breath was now a gasp for air as George became more fervent with his movements. His hands were tightly gripping her thighs and waist, pushing them down so that she could not writhe around. Her leg began to shake and Y/N had to bite down on her hand to stop the loud moans that were threatening to escape from her.

“I-I’m going to-” Y/N couldn’t finish her sentence, but George seemed to understand. He increased his relentless pace, not giving Y/N a moment to fall from the high she was about to experience.

Her vision went white and her back arched as the feeling of euphoria became all-consuming. With one final gasp, Y/N’s orgasm faded into a muted throb in the core of her stomach once again. Her grip loosened on George’s hair, her hand sliding down to his cheek.

The mischievous knowing smirk was on his face again, his tongue resting between his teeth.

“That was-,” Y/N took a deep breath.

“Amazing? Wondrous? Phenomenal?” George had a proud tone to his voice.

“Aren’t you smug? I was going to say mind-blowing but you don’t seem to need an ego boost.”

Her hand dropped from his cheek and rested on her stomach, which was rising and falling with every deep breath she took.

George pushed himself up onto his arms and moved so that his face was only inches from Y/N’s. Her hands came up to his bare waist, where they then slowly moved up his back, tracing over the lines of muscle, and finally to his shoulder and the back of his neck. Her fingers threaded through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, tracing light patterns that sent shutters down George’s spine.

“You,” George leaned down and kissed the tip of Y/N’s nose, “are so,” a kiss on her left cheek, “incredibly,” a kiss on her right cheek “beautiful,” and finally, a kiss on her awaiting lips.

“Are you ready?” George’s voice was soft, a vague expression of concern on his face.

“Yeah, I am.” Y/N pulled his waist closer to hers, giving George the permission he needed to continue.

George slowly entered Y/N, moving carefully as to not make any sudden movements. Once his hips were flush with Y/N’s, he paused, giving her a moment to adjust to the sudden pressure. Y/N let out a content sigh, which George took as a sign to move, and he slowly began pulling out.

His hips began to find an easy rhythm and Y/N pulled him down into a heady and meaningful kiss. Every movement was slow and deep, Y/N’s hips raising to meet George’s with each thrust. The cold breeze that was washing over them went unnoticed, the heat from their bodies shielding and keeping them warm. Y/N could feel George’s muscles flex with the rise and fall of his chest and the rolling of his hips which only added to the electric feeling in her core.

Y/N’s back arched as George drove into the very spot that made her fall apart, soft moans falling from her parted lips in concurrence with George’s quiet grunts. With each thrust forward, George kissed along the line of Y/N’s neck and down to her chest, his lips grazing over her collarbones.

“D-don’t stop,” Y/N gasped, tensing as his cock somehow drove deeper into her than it had before. Her request elicited a breathy laugh from George’s mouth.

“Does that feel good sweetheart?” his voice had a teasing tone to it, she could hear his smile in his words.

“Yes, yes it feels so good,” she moaned loudly, not caring anymore about keeping quiet. George pushed himself up in response, his hand tightly gripping onto her waist as he drove into her, pulling her down onto his cock with force.

‘Oh my god, right there,” Y/N continued babbling praise, her mind going blank. Each breath was a gasp for air, her legs were trembling violently as she began to approach her high once again. Once George’s calloused fingers came down to her clit, she felt her orgasm crash over her once again, loud moans falling from her mouth.

Y/N felt herself tense around George and his hips began to stutter, the steady rhythm losing its pattern as he began chasing his high after Y/N’s. It only took a few more stroked before his orgasm finally washed over his body, his toned arms supporting his upper body as he fell forward.

They were both panting, trying to catch their breaths in the wake of their climaxes. George carefully pulled out and laid down beside Y/N, his arms trembling slightly. Y/N turned to face George and rested her head against his chest, which was rising and falling rapidly. The only sound within the tower was their heavy breathing as they took a few moments to recover.

George’s fingertips brushed the tops of her thighs, following the curves and dips of her waist and hips. His hand finally came to rest on her lower back, where he began tracing aimless patterns. The light patterns sent exhilarated shivers down Y/N’s spine, keeping her in a state of bliss. If heaven was anything but this, she didn’t want it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After they had magically cleaned up after themselves and put the blankets back into the closet, they walked down the spiraling staircase from the Astronomy Tower, hand in hand. They were surrounded by a comfortable silence, the only sounds being their footsteps on the stone steps and the occasional whisper from the portraits on the walls.

George noticed the hint of a smile that was resting on Y/N face. When they had turned the corner to an empty hallway, George nudged her shoulder, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“What are you smiling about?”

She shook her head, smiling.

“I’m just really happy right now.”

“Me too,” he responded, squeezing her hand reassuringly. A smirk suddenly appeared on his face, “how long did you actually like me then?”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush with heat.

“Well I’ve always liked your pranks and I’ve always thought you were attractive, but I think it was the Yule Ball where I realized that I liked you. I don’t know if you remember this, but you asked me to dance. No one had ever asked me to dance before,” she glanced up at George’s face, which was now dawning in realization.

“Oh yeah! I remember that, Fred dared me to ask the prettiest girl in the room for a dance. I asked McGonagall but she said no, so I asked you instead,” a teasing smile was on his face now, “Have you really liked me for all that time?”

“Yeah, I think Pansy became so fed up that she had to start intervening.”

“Is that why she shoved you into me that day in Hogsmeade?” George laughed, “I think Fred was getting fed up as well, he’s practically been shoving me towards the Slytherin table every day.”

They crossed through the entrance hall towards the grand staircase, where they would descend down to the entrance to the dungeons. A gust of cold air blew down through the halls from the Quad, sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine. George pulled her close into his side and they continued, his arm wrapped securely around her shoulders.

They descended the steps to the dungeons and past the Potions classrooms and down one final set of stairs to the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Most of the time, the cold and wet feeling of the dungeons before walking into the warm and cozy common room was unsettling for Y/N, but she didn’t mind it as much when she was standing next to George.

“I had a really nice time tonight. I’m glad you came up to the tower,” Y/N said, turning to say her goodbyes to George.

“I had a nice time too,” his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. Y/N looked up to the hair that was falling across his forehead and tucked it away from his face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then? At breakfast?” she tried not to sound too hopeful, but it was difficult to not look forward to the next time they saw one another.

“Yeah, I will. And then maybe I can take you out on a real date?”

“I would love that.”

They both leaned forward for one final kiss goodbye, then Y/N turned to the stone wall and uttered the password. The wall dissolved away and she walked through, looking back at George. As they brought their hands up to wave goodbye, the wall reformed and became solid between them once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The common room was pretty much empty, with the occasional cat stretching out on the plush velvet couches, and the fire in the fireplace now a pile of crackling logs. Different patterns of light were dancing around the room, shining through the transparent ceiling beneath the Black Lake. The only thing that could be seen through the inky darkness was the rippling moon, which was hanging brightly in the sky. Even the lake seemed to be asleep at this hour.

Y/N quietly tiptoed up the winding stone staircase to the girls’ dormitories where she shared a room with Pansy. She attempted to silently slide the door open, trying not to wake anyone, but her efforts were abandoned as soon as Pansy crashed into her, a barrage of questions pouring from her mouth.

“Was he there? What happened? Why were you up there so long, I thought Filch had caught you for sure!” Pansy was pulling Y/N by the arm to her bed, insisting that she answer every question that was thrown her way.

Once Y/N was situated on the bed, she began to tell Pansy about everything that had happened in the tower. Once she had gotten to the part where they kissed, Pansy let out a gasp and her hand flew over her mouth in shock.

“So he admitted that he liked you and he kissed you under the stars?” her voice was a whisper this time, her eyes rounding in shock.

“Mmhmm, but wait, it gets better,” Y/N giggled, leaning forward to continue her story in hushed tones. Pansy swooned at all the right moments and gasped encouragingly whenever a new detail of Y/N’s night with George was brought up.

It was almost sunrise by the time they had finished talking about George and sleep was pulling at their eyes.

“We better get some sleep now before we have to go down to breakfast,” Pansy yawned loudly, stretching her legs out before walking over to her bed. She looked at her watch as she crawled under the covers, “we should be able to get a few hours in before those damn first years wake us up again.”

Y/N pulled the covers back and slid between the cool sheets, thinking about the next time she would see George and what she would say to him. The fairy lights above their heads dimmed slightly and the fire in the fireplace slowed to a soft crackle.

“I’ll see you in the morning then. Good night,” Y/N began to draw the velvet curtains around her bed closed. There was a smirk on Pansy’s face as she began to close her curtains as well.

“Oh, you definitely had a good night,” Pansy ducked, laughing loudly as a hairbrush was thrown her way, narrowly missing her head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once they had gotten a few good hours of sleep, the two of them walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Y/N was fiddling with the hem of her sleeve nervously as they entered the entrance hall.

“Oh my god, will you stop futzing with it? Just act normal, you’ll be fine,” Pansy whispered, hooking her arm around Y/N’s. They finally walked through the large doors that entered into the Great Hall and were greeted by the loud chatter and clattering of silverware against plates. The hum only grew louder when Slytherin’s Quidditch team walked into the Great Hall wearing their emerald green Quidditch robes.

“I completely forgot, there’s Quidditch today!” Y/N remarked to Pansy as they sat down. Pansy was already filling her plate with some bacon and scrambled eggs.

“What do you mean ‘you forgot’? They’re playing Gryffindor, I would have thought you’d have the Gryffindor Quidditch schedule memorized.”

It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Y/N finally caught a glimpse of fiery hair walking through the entrance and over to the Gryffindor table. George and the rest of the Gryffindor team strode into the Great Hall to cheers and applause from the Gryffindor table. They were wearing their scarlet Quidditch robes, a stark contrast to the black school robes everyone else was wearing. George was carrying a brown paper parcel wrapped in twine in his hands which he slipped underneath his robes.

It was nearing the end of breakfast when George stood up and walked over to the Slytherin table, stopping in front of Y/N.

“Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Y/N nodded her head slightly.

“Yeah,” Y/N’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. She stood from the bench and followed George out into the entrance hall. Y/N could feel people’s eyes on her as she trailed behind George, it wasn’t every day that a Gryffindor walked up to the Slytherin table to talk to someone, let alone pull them aside for a private conversation.

George pulled her behind a pillar so that her back was against the stone wall. He pulled the wrapped parcel up and held it out for her to take.

“I was hoping you would wear it at the match today,” George said as Y/N carefully untied the twine holding the brown paper together. The paper fell away to reveal a red and gold scarf.

“I know we’re playing Slytherin and all, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

Y/N brought it up to her nose and breathed in, the scent seemed to envelop her senses. She glanced up at George’s face, a smile resting on her lips.

“I would love to,” Y/N wrapped the scarf around her neck, tossing one end over her shoulder, “how do I look?”

George cupped her cheeks and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Wonderful. Really wonderful”

Y/N walked back into the Great Hall still wearing the scarf. She sat down next to Pansy again and casually grabbed a croissant from Pansy’s plate, the corners of her mouth upturned slightly. Pansy leaned forward, her elbow leaning on the table and an amazed look on her face.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” a smile was growing on Pansy’s face as she stole a few glances at the scarf.

“Oh nothing,” Y/N paused for a moment, the croissant inches from her mouth. She had a look on her face like she was contemplating something amusing before she spoke again, “I’m just really excited for Quidditch today.”

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley fluff #george weasley smut #Harry Potter #pansy parkinson x reader #pansy parkinson x friend!reader #wingman!pansy parkinson #mutual pining

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neverthelesstheinvisibleelf-blog · 2 years

Text

Writing about Epilepsy

@silver-stargazing @the-twitchy-life @fuckepilepsy @gomaduck and of course @justepilepsy @the-epileptic-toh-blog @hiimholalate thank you all for your kind answers about my question on absence seizures

It really helped me to actually approach writing something that I myself just never really experienced. (Which at first made me feel pretty uncomfortable.) I still don’t know if I actually managed to achieve it … but well I tried.

I also found the frivolous note about the hotness of the character very interesting and I might try to incorporate it at some point. (The main obstacle is that I myself do not really notice if or when people are physically attractive. I am much more drawn towards character traits that I find interesting. The other thing is that this story and this character is not a new thing it has been growing in my head for … a lot of years now. So, Fred just already exists. I just didn’t know much about his epilepsy before.)

Oh and as a psychology student who has performed testing on someone who was having an inpatient EEG because of suspected epilepsy. Yes, I can thoroughly imagine that that is one of the most boring days ever.

Also, thank you for the thoughts on control. I haven’t yet thought about it much but I will now!

I actually managed to write something! But I am really not sure if I managed to do you justice. So, if you have the time and the inspiration I would very much appreciate your feedback (because I probably fucked up at one point or another)

I hope this scene provides enough context. Because all of the context isn’t written yet. And the stuff that is written is over 40.000 words long… (Context can be found here or here) I just tried to explain it and it sounds way too boring…. just bother me if you want to know more!

The only really important thing is that it is about a group of friends who meet each other in a international exchange programme and lived together in Prague for a few years. This story takes place a few years after. And Ianna is a nickname for Lilli, so they are the same person. As is Rosie and Lynn and Princess Annmarie.

The room was surprisingly nice. The sofa Fred was sitting on reminded him of this one period film set in the Victorian age in England that his mom liked so much and the side table on his left looked like it was made from mahogany. On top of it was a lamp that looked so antique it easily could have been built with candles in mind, not the light bulb it now held and the artwork in golden frames looked like it could also adorn the walls of an art gallery.

Malu hadn’t strayed from his side their entire way to the palace and didn’t say a wuff when they were led into this room. One guard had demanded for the husky to stay behind but Malu had just stared at him so intensely the guard forgot all about his demand. The dog needed to be with Fred, everybody was somehow convinced of that.

Now though, they were alone inside a pretty room, so Malu was investigating the floor-length velvet green curtains by the window. This indicated that he deemed the room safe. A notion Fred couldn’t really agree with yet.

It wasn’t really the holding cell Fred had expected to end up in. Actually, when he rushed to the palace entrance with more panic than a plan he had never once expected to be let in. But there was still no real evidence that this posh, lavish salon wasn’t just a very luxurious mock-up for a holding cell and any minute a policeman would enter holding an arrest warrant. Because the only reason he could imagine as to why he wasn’t sent away yet was also the reason he was pretty sure he would end up in jail by the end of the night.

Malu suddenly abandoned the curtains and came over to lay his head in Fred’s lap and whined. Fred smiled and started to scratch his dog’s ears. It didn’t really ease any of his worries but at least it gave his hands something to do.

He could hear a door opening behind and braced himself for the inevitable.

Fred blinked slowly. He felt a little foggy all of a sudden. In front of him was an undeniably elegant middle-aged woman in a form-fitting dark grey pants-suit who he swore wasn’t there a second ago. The headache behind his forehead was new as well. His brain somehow felt as if it was working at half the speed it normally did.

The woman gazed at him rather suspiciously and Fred slightly shook his head hoping to get rid of at least some of the confusion that had manifested so suddenly. Malu pressed his head into his hands a little more forcefully and the cloudy haze lifted just enough to catch what the woman was saying.

“...-pect a visit from a self-proclaimed friend of my daughters.” It sounded rather like the end of the question than the beginning.

Daughter? Was this Rosie’s mom? Holy Hell! Was this the queen? She surely would have introduce… He was missing a little time. Oh no… This couldn’t be happening!

This couldn’t be happening! He didn’t have a seizure in years! He had his medication and it’s been working… Had he taken his medication today? Did he even pack enough pills? He couldn’t really remember counting them. Ianna had interrupted…

Malu woofed at the same time as the queen asked rather sharply, “Excuse me! Do I need to repeat myself?” Fred couldn’t help himself but kept staring at her without a notable reaction. His mind insisted on only repeating his most unhelpful thoughts. This couldn’t be happening!

Malu whined again and the thoughts retreated for now. They would probably return to torture him at a later time. But even his unhelpful mind seemed to realise that this was not the time for worries. Fred lifted himself up and tried to exude all the professionalism that he might have absorbed in some internship or another.

The queen took a seat across from him and stared at him with calculating grey eyes. And Fred hoped that this meant that she would hear him out despite this less than stellar start to their conversation.

‘Don’t panic, Fred! Everything is going to be fine!’ He tried to tell himself while another - very unhelpful - part of his brain reminded him that hyperventilating was a very common seizure trigger. He couldn’t really do anything right now. And besides, he wasn’t really at a risk of injuring himself when he zoned out a few times now. It would just be even more embarrassing than the situation already was. So, everything was fine. Just continue as planned.

“I’m sorry. I spent the last day arguing with several people on the phone. And the day before I was on several different planes just to get here. My manners are usually better than this.” Fred was proud of himself. That wasn’t even a lie and at the same time a pretty believable excuse!

“My name is Frederic Eric Nyanda. I am a very new human rights lawyer and two days ago I was woken up by a very tearful and desperate call from one of my best friends who I am assuming is your daughter.” He summarised the basic reasons for his being here. (Conveniently leaving out the fact that his other best friend probably already broke into the palace.)

The queen was twirling something between her fingers and Fred recognized it as the ring he’d used to convince the palace guards to let him in. “And because my daughter is apparently such good friends with you - even though she never explicitly mentioned you - she entrusted you with her sigil ring?” The queen continued his train of thought.

“Erm… yes?” It sounded too much like a question to be considered believale. “So… she didn’t exactly give it to me… She forgot it at my place when she was visiting while I was getting my law degree in another city and when I wanted to give it back to her she told me to keep it…” Was that convincing? Or would he be tried for theft in addition to fraud now? Did this even qualify as fraud? He just knew too little about Losikan law!

The queen’s steel grey eyes regarded him closely as if she was deciding whether to throw him in the dungeon or entertain him for a little bit longer. (Did they even have dungeons here?) It felt like an enternity passed before she finally put the ring in her pocket and sat back on her chair.

“Another very intriguing coincidence is that our lawyer, Mrs. LeBlanc - and now you desperately need to speak with us already. Barely two hours after you got off the phone with her. This seems strange, doesn’t it Mr. Nyanda?”

The headache had gotten worse now. And Fred needed to blink a few more times to shake the exhaustion and convince his eyes to stay alert. Malu had put his paws on his legs and whined again. Fred distractedly fondled his ears and tried to convince him to lay down by his feet while he thought about what the queen had just said. The wording was kind of weird…or wait…

Did.. Did he have another seizure? He really should get a full night's sleep and take some medication as soon as possible. At least he didn’t seize while he was talking and he still didn’t miss any crucial information. He could still extrapolate. (At least he hoped so.)

Malu could finally be convinced to lay down his feet. He acted as if he were sleeping even if Fred could tell with one look that he was not. Despite everything the mere presence of the dog gave Fred hope that he would somehow manage to work through his foggy brain.

“Erm… Yes, that is correct. I agree that seems somewhat contradictory. But there were… unforeseen circumstances so -”

Suddenly the doors to the small sitting room burst open and a determined Ianna strutted in followed by two rather disgruntled but ultimately powerless guards. “We… we really couldn’t stop her!”, one of the guards tried to excuse the sudden interruption.

After taking one look at his friend, Fred immediately decided that he wouldn’t say a peep about his seizures. Explaining that he already had two seizures because of all the stress and sleeplessness (and because he might have missed some of his medication), was really not a good idea when Ianna already looked like she was on the warpath.

“What I wanted to say was that I could have waited. But she could not!” He finally explained to the queen, nonchalantly pointing his finger at Ianna. (This way she would hopefully be distracted from his own strange behaviour.)

The queen didn’t really listen to him. She was too distracted by the breach in security that was the entirety of Ianna. “Who are you?” She almost screamed at the intruder.

Lilli just smirked and answered overly friendly, “It’s nice to meet you, too!”. She bent down to pet Malu who merely looked up when he heard her voice. Then she sat down on the sofa beside Fred. “Sorry, Freddie-Boy but I really got bored out of my brain listening to you terrorizing people on the phone!”

Fred just sighed exaggeratedly (in the hopes that Lilli finally noticed how much of a pain she was to deal with) and buried his head in his hands. “Just so you know, I was going to meet with the royal family's lawyer tomorrow morning. But you already decided it was a better idea to break into the palace!”

Fred almost yelled that last part although he was sure that it wouldn’t really impress Ianna. The queen on the other hand raised an eyebrow. “I am guessing that you are another self-proclaimed friend of my daughter’s”, she said in Lilli’s direction.

Ianna just shrugged. “If your daughter is the very tiresome, increasingly annoying best friend I managed to acquire a few years ago then yes!” Then she turned to Fred. “And I was still right to break into this place because that stupid idiotka isn’t here!”

Fred felt like someone had purposely taken the ground from underneath his feet. “What do you mean she isn’t here? She called me and told me to come to Losnik!”

“She called you?” The queen asked, alarmed, suddenly sitting on the edge of her seat.

Lilli answered for him. “She called him crying on the phone two days ago. That’s the reason we came to Losnik in the first place. From what I could gather from her empty room and some notes in the waste bin, she left without thinking and only packed the essentials. I’m assuming you’ve been aware of that as well.”

The queen nodded. “Yes, we realised that morning that not only did she post a picture of her letter of abdication online, she also left the palace and possibly the country as well.” A little quieter she added. “Just when we thought we got her back… she vanished again.”

Ianna looked stoically into the air. “I am going to find her. There are only so many places Lynny would run to. It’s just a few theories that I will have to systematically falsify. Sooner or later, I will find her.”

The queen looked at her with tears in her eyes. Fred wasn’t sure if it was hope or fear glistening in her eyes. “Why would you do that?”

Lilli just shrugged. As always she was uncomfortable with such obvious displays of emotion. “I mean, she’s my best friend. I might not know where she is but she is crazy if she thinks I will stop before I find her.“

Fred turned to Lilli. “So, we’re looking for her. Where do we start?”

To his surprise Lilli just shook her head. “Not ‘we’, Fred. I will find Lynny. You will stay here.”

“What?” Fred was honestly surprised. (And worried. There was a reason for the clammy feeling in his chest. Ianna wasn’t really ok. And knowing the reason for that definitely didn’t make him feel any easier.) “I really can be helpful…”

“Freddie…” Lilli interrupted him calmly but surely. “She asked you to come to Losnik. She wanted you here. And whatever you might think…” She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand reassuringly. “She thought you could help here. You said she sounded desperate. It was important to her that someone she trusted implicitly was here to oversee everything when she decided that she couldn’t be. You have to stay.”

Fred kept his gaze locked on his hands and tried to stop them from shaking. There were only rare moments when he didn’t wish Ianna to be by his side. And leaving her to do something alone was never really something he enjoyed doing. No matter how capable she was. Now, it was even harder after all they went through a little over a year ago.

The queen looked at both of them imploringly. She stayed silent and only a curt nod of her head indicated that she agreed. (Maybe he wouldn’t end up in jail after all.) But her stoic way of surrendering to the fact that these two young people were very good friends of her daughter she never knew about reminded Fred that it was not always necessary to understand everything.

Fred sighed. “You’ve already decided, haven’t you? There’s nothing I could say to change your mind, anyway.”

Ianna smiled in this almost imperceptible way that always warmed Fred’s heart. “You might have been her friend first but whatever trouble she has run into - Lynny is my best friend. And I will not let her suffer alone if I can be there by her side!”, she explained. “And besides, you would only slow me down!”

Fred laughed even though he really didn’t feel like laughing. “But how will I know when you find her?”

The queen raised her eyebrows at that. “Couldn’t you just tell us?” She asked, rather confused by Fred’s obvious apprehension.

Fred laughed again this time more desperate than before. The headache had returned and he needed to blink a few times before he felt steady enough to talk again.

He didn’t let any of that deter him, though. “You would think so, right? The problem is that Ianna and Rosie have this kind of codex. They insist that either of them is still keeping a secret even when they tell the other. And on the flipside, there is no way of knowing what they told each other.”

Ianna was looking at him weirdly when he finished. “Freddie … I will not lie to you. I might not tell you where she is when I found her. But I will tell you that I have or haven’t found her. “

Only now Fred noticed that Malu had sat down in front of Ianna and she was calmly petting his head for a bit before she turned to him again. Then her gaze grew inquistory.

“You should probably call your neurologist and figure out how you can get your medication while you stay here. These seizures can not continue like this.”

(For more context, click here or go on the tag #the archangel programme)

#actually epileptic #epilepsy #writing #human rights lawyer #the archangel programme

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