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kiss-my-freckle · 9 days

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Elena would be so mad if she knew Damon slept with Rebekah twice. I feel bad how Rebekah shamed her for sleeping with him when she slept with him knowing Elena's feelings and slept with Stefan too.

Mystic Falls – The Most Important Very Small Bridge in the World –

Damon Salvatore: Hi Rebekah! You know how you’re mad at me and disgusted by Sage? Well I know what would help make you feel better! A threesome with both of us!

Rebekah: I'm unable to find a flaw in your logic.

– Abby’s Apartment of Angst –

Caroline Forbes: Hi Jamie! As you know, your adoptive mother is going through a very difficult time, and- oh hold on a sec, cell phone

Elena Gilbert (on the phone): Hi Caroline! I sure hope you’re done with Allie or whatever her name is, because I need you to drop everything and focus on my problems!

– The Gilbert House – A History of Violence –

Meredith Fell: Hi Alaric! I have all of your old police reports! Tee hee!

Alaric Saltzman: Yep, this was all me. The larceny, the delinquency, the violence, the wife beating, etc etc etc, all these terrible character flaws that haven’t even been hinted at before last week, it’s all true. I’m a terrible person, and the fans shouldn’t like me any more. In fact, it would be a service if Damon just killed me. Again.

– Castle Salvatore – Basement Bender –

Stefan Salvatore: Hi Damon! I’ve gone on another bender! But this one involves blood bags instead of buxom blonds!

Damon Salvatore: That’s nice. Anyway, I have an orgy planned, so why don’t you go watch Elena through the window or something?

– Abby’s Apartment of Angst –

Bonnie Bennet: Hi Jamie! Just checking, but we’re not actually related, right?

Jamie: Right!

Bonnie Bennet: So it’s totally cool for me to stare at your ass, right?

Jamie: Right!

Bonnie Bennet: And then mourn your loss when you reach the Three Episodes for a Black Character limit?

Jamie: Right! No, wait …

Bonnie Bennet: Hey, that’s some nice wood you got there!

Jamie: …

Bonnie Bennet: Fire wood. I’m totally not staring at your crotch right now. Much.

Abby Bennet Wilson: Hi Jamie!

Jamie: Hi Abby! I’m gonna make a-

Abby Bennet Wilson: Fangs! Fangs fangs fangs fangs fangs!

Bonnie Bennet: Stop! It hasn’t been three episodes yet!

– Castle Salvatore –

Rebekah: Hi Damon! Hi Sage! I’m totally self-confident and don’t need you to stroke my ego or give me a sense of belonging or love me like my father never did or anything, buteverything on TV is a rerun, so I figured I’d grab a bottle of priceless wine and hope on over here.

Damon Salvatore: Hi Rebekah! You look awfully uncomfortable! Why don’t you take your clothes off and relax?

Sage: Yesplease yesplease yesplease yesplease yesplease …

The Lady of the Manor: She’s really just going to sit over in the corner and rub one out, isn’t she?

Sage: Fap fap fap fap fap!

The Lady of the Manor: …Yep.

– Abby’s Apartment of Angst –

Abby Bennet Wilson: I almost killed my not son!

Bonnie Bennet: No, it’s cool. Caroline says you’ll probably murder three, four dozen people before you get the hang of it.

Abby Bennet Wilson: That … really didn’t help.

– The Gilbert House – Of Sound Mind and Body

Alaric Saltzman: Hi Elena! Here’s a list of my bank accounts, passwords, and my will, just in case my head goes all STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB again and Meredith has to shoot me in the face!

Elena Gilbert: You’re … leaving Jeremy your porn collection?

Alaric Saltzman: Well, he insists on using Bing. Every time he searches for “hot bitches nude” he gets a bunch of links to the Westminster Kennel Club. Kid deserves better.

Caroline Forbes (on the phone): Hi Elena! In a shocking and unprecedented twist, Bonnie found exactly the spell we need on a previously unread page in her Big Book of Magic!

Bonnie Bennet (on the phone): Hi Elena! I still kinda hate your guts, but if I cure Alaric he’ll have to let me pass history class, so I’m in!

Elena Gilbert: History? Class? What’s that? Whatever. Alaric, good news! Bonnie’s going to cure you!

Alaric Saltzman: …And this page explains what I want done with my ashes…

– Castle Salvatore – Sweet Dreams and Showers –

Damon Salvatore: Hello ladies! Sorry about the sheet. I wanted to let Little Damon out to play, but the director said something about “massive FCC fines.” And I was like “why yes it is massive,” but then she just shook her head and walked away.

Sage: Hi Damon! You remember that well-established power vampires have, where we can steal people’s memories by stroking their hair, and then we can swap memories by kissing in the shower?

Damon Salvatore: …No.

Sage: Oh you’re such a kidder! Of course you remember how this pivotal ability was set up a few episodes ago! I mean, it’s not like I’d just bust out an incredibly convenient power for the hell of it!

Damon Salvatore: I mean … I guess I gave Rose a nice dream. And Katherine did that whole “hahaha you thought you were having sex with me” thing to my brother. But … ah, whatever, let’s go look through the family logging journals!

The Lady of the Manor: Sage thinks with her tongue!

– Castle Salvatore – Library of Logging –

Jethro Salvatore’s Journal: Dear diary: trees trees trees trees trees trees trees, oh and I guess there’s a murderer or something running around, but more importantly, trees trees trees trees trees!

Damon Salvatore: Thank god my family has an obsessive compulsive need to write down every single goddamn thing we do! If it wasn’t for that odd quirk, we’d never know that the Great White Oak of Original Wasting Greatness was cut down and turned into … the very bridge we were rebuilding this morning!

– Saltzman Slums –

Stefan Salvatore: Hi Elena! Just dropped by to tell you nothing’s changed! Also Samantha Gilbert went crazy and slaughtered an entire village even after she took the ring off. I sure hope you didn’t leave Alaric alone with anyone! Tee hee!

– The Gilbert House of Disturbing Behavior –

Alaric Saltzman: Wow, what a great nap! I feel fresh, rested, and ready for murder! Tee hee!

Yes, Elena would be mad the second time. But tbh, she has no right to be. If she didn't want Damon sleeping with Rebekah the second time, she should've been open about her feelings. The problem isn't Damon or Elena, it's Stefan. He's hiding the truth from both of them so that Damon continues to lash out. Getting Damon to lash out gives Stefan time to try to patch things up with her. She's still mad at Damon in 3x18, but once he gets taken, she's ready to save him because being mad doesn't mean she wants him dead. She's still in love with him. That's when Stefan confronts Elena about her feelings for Damon and sends her to Denver. Once they hit Denver, Damon knows Stefan's deal but Elena doesn't. Stefan manipulates the situation until he can't manipulate it anymore.

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samwisethewitch · 3 years

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To join the community, click here!

Once you join, make sure the first thing you do is read the server rules posted in the #welcome-and-rules channel. Afterwards, please introduce yourself in the #introduction channel. Once that’s done, feel free to browse the existing channels, catch up on our conversations, and start sending messages! And make sure you vote for our April 2021 book club read! (We’re currently reading Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi.)

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adelindschade · 2 years

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High key tho

I wish Nesta took up the other option of exile in the human lands. Look - the girl was on the border of death, literally and it’d be poetic if she was geographically, too, right? But instead of drinking herself to death, she’d force the IC (mainly Feysand) to send her to her death, and call out their bluff, and when they renege, she’s like: bitch, did you stutter? SEND. ME. THERE. I’mma pack my bags - all there of these cheap ass satchels because I ain’t gotten paid in for-fucking-ever and I’m going to make friends with the bears. Call me Goldilocks. Call them out. Commit to it! See it through.

Watch Rhys boil as he’s the one to deliver her to the edge of his precious little kingdom, and trying to talk her out of it for Feyre’s sake, but Nesta’s nah. “But you’ll hurt her” “Nah, I’m obeying my high lady”. Literally, no fucks left to give.

MALICOUS COMPLIANCE. AMIRIGHT? OR AMIRIGHT?

But Nesta’s a bad bitch. If she’s going to die on this hill, it’s going to be a fucking show, but she’s also a bad bitch, and just like that vine, she ain’t dying today!

WATCH AS SHE GOES ELSA ON THESE HOES. SILVER FIRE CASTLE. GRAND MYSTIC KINGDOM OF ICY FLAMES. SHE’S GOING TO BE WEARING A CROWN OF FIRE, A DRESS MADE OF SMOKE, AND SHE’S GOING TO A MOMENT. AN ICON. THE BADDEST WITCH OF PRYTHIAN. A LEGEND OF HER OWN NAMESAKE.

Watch as she makes homies with Band of Exiles. Vassa and Nesta - fire queens - Yass besties. She’s just gonna be like: Just stay here. I’mma take care of that little Koschei problem for ya. You like smut? Oh my God - book club! We meet every Thursday! Nesta’s living her best fucking life. Jurian is in a perpetual nightmare.

People be out there being like: we came to slay but she’s already slaying and now we just want to marry her but she just... she’s too scalding. She’s too hot. She’s a real ice queen but she’ll burn you alive. Oh My Gods, I love her. I’d die for her. Please step on me.

And Feyre is like: that’s not what I wanted!

And Cassian is crying in the corner somewhere.

And Eris is just like: Lucien is my bro. He’s your bro. Let’s be bros. I have sass and fire. You have sass and fire. BTW, here are puppies, and can you help me assassinate my father, oh Great Witch of the Woods?

And just like that, Nesta has single handedly rearranged the whole political sphere by just being a bad bitch, with a reputation of beheading terrible men.

#Nesta Archeron deserves better #let her be her own moment #nesta archeron

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rebelwrites · 3 years

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Trouble Is Her Default (NSFW)

Jax Teller x Reader

A/N so I got the quote “Trouble is her default setting.” out of the book series Night School by CJ Daugherty. This is for @little-diable 7k followers writing challenge, I’m in love with how this turned out and think you chose the perfect quote for me to write 💜

Warnings: public sex, mention of bodily fluids

Glancing over to the passenger seat, a smirk playing on your blood red lips, Jax was sat not watching the world pass but on a phone call. Probably something club related but you weren’t paying attention and you were bored, he had turned your music down and the conversation was taking far too long for your liking, this was meant to be a day off.

You knew just how to get his attention, one thing that always worked, the thing that always freaked him out. Driving with your knees whilst you rolled a cigarette. Your eyes flicked between the road and the tobacco pouch waiting for his reaction.

“Babe” Jax shouted.

“What” you laughed “I’m rolling you one as well”

“You know that isn’t what I meant” He scolded before turning back to his call “yeah I gotta go she’s driving with her knees again. We will be there soon and hopefully arrive alive”

Rolling your eyes at his comment as you passed him his smoke.

“Thank you but eyes back on the road trouble” He winked, lighting the smoke, placing his free hand on your bare thigh.

A couple more hours passed and Jax was getting bored, he wasn’t the best passenger but agreed to let you drive as it meant you got time alone. But you had been on the road for a while now and because he was bored you knew the dreaded question was coming.

“Are we there yet?” He whined.

“Get out” you said with no emotion in your voice.

“You do realise we are going 85 miles and hour, down the highway in the middle of nowhere” He said staring into your head.

“Did I stutter bitch?” you sassed glancing over at him.

You knew what you were doing, it was payback for him teasing you for the past hour as he gently ran his fingers over the inside of your thigh, every so often he ran his finger over your thong. So calling him a bitch, you were awaking something in him as you saw him shift in the seat. When it came to Jax you were very much a submissive behind closed doors but once in a while your dominant bratty side came out to play and you knew he loved it.

“Pull over now” Jax demanded taking control again.

“And what if I don’t want to?” you smirked “like we are nearly at this stupid place anyway, you know I don’t like weddings”

“But it’s your cousin and Juice’s wedding” Jax laughed.

“Still hate weddings and you know that” you huffed “you know I’m only coming for the free food, drink and that hella slutty wedding sex I plan on having”

“Is that right?” Jax hummed as his hand moved further up your thigh, pushing the lace of your thong aside, his fingers grazing over your aching clit making you take a sharp breath “and just who would this slutty wedding sex be with then miss Y/L/N?”

“I dunno yet” you shrugged as you pulled up into an empty lay-by at the side of the road, as soon as you cut the engine Jax was leaning over breathing down your neck “you never know I might find some really hot groomsman”

“Well darlin’ you have the hottest groomsman right here in the car with you” he whispered against your ear before slowly dipping his head connecting his lips on your neck. “I can feel how wet you are already babygirl and I know you won’t last the ceremony and it’s not like we can bail halfway through for me to give you that slutty wedding sex you want”

Every word he said he moved his fingers just a little more until he was teasing your entrance whilst rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb.

“Jax” you breathed leaning your head back against the headrest “don’t be a tease please”

“Tell me what you want Babygirl” he said lowly nipping at the sensitive spot on your neck whilst he slowly pushed his finger into your wet pussy.

“I want” you breathed letting the pleasure of his fingers wash over you “I want you to fuck me”

“Need a bit more than that darlin’” he smirked against your skin as he inserted another finger making you moan.

“I want you to fuck me, right here, right now” you whispered thrusting your hips against his fingers to create some much needed friction. “Over the bonnet of the car”

“Damn my baby is feeling frisky” he chuckled slowly pulling his fingers out making you whine.

You could help it as you wrapped your hand around his wrist bringing his fingers to your mouth, looking up at him through your false lashes you took his fingers into your mouth sucking your juices off them making him growl and adjust his pants from the hard on he was rocking.

Moving your hands up your thighs you pushed the material of the dress up, wrapping your fingers around the band of your thong, shimmying your way out of them, placing the damp material in his hand before climbing out of the car, positioning yourself over the bonnet, thank god you cleaned your car yesterday so at least you dress would get ditched.

“Fuck you look so pretty like this” Jax growled as you head him unbuckling his pants “just waiting patiently for me to slam this big cock into you, stretching that pretty little pussy”

Glancing back he was standing there palming his hard cock, smirking at you. In the time it took him to reach you he had ditched his waistcoat, tie and had rolled his sleeves up, the white shirt clinging to his toned body, the sight alone made you wetter if that was physically possible. Here you were bent over your mustang, pussy on show waiting like a good girl.

You were distracted by your thoughts you didn’t realise Jax was now digging his ring adorned fingers into your hips.

“Jax please” you whined “stop teasing me and just fuck me”

“As you wish” he smirked as he thrust into you making you moan at the feeling of him stretching you out.

There was nothing gentle about it, this was a hot quick fuck at the side of the road as you both knew neither one of you would have made it until the reception so this kept the horniness at bay for a bit.

“Play with your clit you slut” he hummed in your ear making you quiver.

Following his command you slipped your hand between you and the car, finding the sensitive bud. A loud moan left your lips and you played with your clit whilst Jax rammed you from behind.

“Holy fuck” you moaned as his thrusts got harder and harder “baby I’m so fucking close”

“That’s my girl” Jax panted as he slapped your bare arse making you squeal “I can feel you clenching babygirl, stop holding back we don’t have time for games right now”

“Make me cum Jax” was all you managed to say before your orgasm washed through you making you scream out his name.

The feeling of your walls tightening around his cock pushed Jax over the edge as he squeezed your hit, moaning in your ear as he came. You were still coming down from your high to even realise he had put a condom on, that wasn’t like him at all.

It’s like he could tell the thoughts running through your head as he placed a soft kiss on your butt cheek.

“I don’t think people, mainly your parents, would appreciate seeing their little girl with cum dripping down her thighs so I took one for the team” he chuckled as he cleaned himself up with a napkin before redressing himself.

You hadn’t moved an inch.

“You gonna be okay to drive?” Jax asked as he helped clean you up, pulling your dress back down.

“I don’t think so” you whispered as he pulled you into his arms.

“Okay” he whispered kissing your head guiding you to the passenger seat of the car “just rest for the last 35 minutes before we get to the church”

The final part of the drive was a blur, Jax kept his hand planted on your knee, gently stroking your skin.

As you pulled into the car park of the church the rest of the sons were smirking at you both, they knew what had happened just by the fact Jax was driving and by his appearance.

Jax being the gentleman he was, climbed out the car to help you out so you could keep your modesty, his tie was hung undone around his neck. Once he had grabbed his waistcoat and jacket out of the car he quickly redressed before you walked hand in hand to everyone else.

“Took your damn time” Juice smirked looking at the time on his phone “you were meant to be here like 20 minutes ago”

“Yeah well something came up” you shrugged leaning your head against Jax’s shoulder.

“You mean you stopped to fuck” he smirked. “Making you late to my wedding always knew you were trouble Y/N”

“Come on Juice like you didn’t already know trouble is her default setting” Jax smiled kissing the top of your head “now let’s get in the church before your wife to be gets her and busts your balls before you are married”

SOA TAGLIST

@chibsytelford @talicat713 @corebore123 @nothingeverdies @teapartydreams @mrspeacem1nusone @khyharah @itmejado @beth-winchester21 @rocketqueen @auroraariza @trulysuccubus @haynsey @witching-hour @destynelseclipsa @edonaspanca @abbiesthings @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @jadesamhart @lady-pswrld @ly--canthrope @hennessyauntie @gemini0410 @i-love-scott-mccall @est11 @mystic-shadows42 @sugary-x-sweet @starrynite7114 @skyofficialxx @terminallygenius @lauraashley93 @leaalfred @angelreyesgirl89 @sheeshgivemeabreak @marquelapage @meteora-fc @penny4yourthot @justahopelessssromantic @ilikechocolatemilkh @mayans-sauce @xbreezymeadowsx @ben-c-group-therapy @-im-fantastic- @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @milaxmariex @cubblycie @little-diable @hotdamnhunnam @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead

#jax teller oneshot #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller #sons of anarchy

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kenmaash · 3 years

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types of people- planets

tag yourself as planets 🪐

-mercury

paris, london, likes tea and stuff. best clothes, obsessed with aesthetics. genuinely nice person but don’t freaking cross them. has a literal library in their house and has read every book in it. wants to be in beauty and the beast

-venus

thrift stores. cool patterns, pretty sunglasses, the smell of a beach, a bit of a romantic. pretty, likes big earrings. likes to read and probably goes to book club

-earth

soft, reserved but has strong opinions. gives the best advice, seems cold but once they open up they can be wild sometimes. always analyzing. cooks the best food, lowkey protective

-mars

aggressively excited for everything, shakes people while they laugh. giggles that could crack the sky. good at sports but wants to do art. plants. open about EVERYTHING. loves fairy lights and wants a polaroid camera

-jupiter

your actual mother. little bit of a bitch but in the best way. will slap you if you talk bad about yourself. they’ve probably killed someone but don’t bring it up. always takes good care of you, gives the best hugs, and can do the best hairstyles. also very fashionavel

-saturn

the forest floor during the dry season, fashionable boots, vintage jewelry, likes to read. thick hair that they make look really good somehow.

-uranus

likes swimming. lives for the beach at night. camera roll full of sunset pics and pictures of their siblings and pets. dark eyes, mystical smiles

-neptune

mythology obsessed, likes the color silver. white fairy lights and pretty shirts. draws hands and eyes like a god. isn’t active much on social media but has a billion followers anyway

-pluto

watches way too much tv. tries to be productive but isn’t. close friends and pie. so much pie. giving, open, kind. a little shy but won’t hesitate to hit an asshole

#i think i��m mars and pluto?? a little neptune too #types of people #tag yourself #tag urself #types of girls #types of boys #types of enbies

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vivithefolle · 3 years

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Do you have any head canons about Ron and Hermione’s children (Rose and Hugo)? Like what traits they inherited from each of them. Or even just a hc about what kind of dad you think Ron would be? Thanks!

Ok but: Ron would be the best fucking dad I don’t make the rules.

Though he would have issues because no one is perfect. He tends to spoil his kids a bit because he just doesn’t want them to feel neglected and Hermione you don’t understand they were so excited and they were making the face and he melted and he’s very sorry...

On the one hand he lets his kids do what they want. Absolutely no pressure or expectations. Rosie wants to take up the violin? She gets the violin lessons. She discovers she hates it? She doesn’t get the lessons anymore. He never talks about money in front of the kids. Though he doesn’t really need to because WWW is a money spinner.

But he can be overprotective. He does have experience of what it was like to live in a rough and tumble family so he doesn’t worry too much if there are little accidents like bumping a knee or falling flat on the face, but when there’s something like a bad flu or a broken bone he goes full-on mother hen mode. You sure you don’t want soup Rosie dear? Are you absolutely sure? Okay you rest then. Are you sure you’re well enough to be reading a book? You shouldn’t strain your eyes. I can read it for you if you’d like. Should I take your temperature again?

Anyway, Ron is just a dorky, doting dad who adores his children to bits and would probably spoil them continuously, luckily Hermione is there to slow him down a bit. Then he has to slow her down because she wants to buy the kids a complete set of encyclopedias because it’s educational, don’t you see-

Hi Vivi!!!! How do you picture Rose and Hugo's personality traits and physical appearance??

As for Rose and Hugo, they also adore their dad. As teenagers they do get fed up with his coddling sometimes but they do appreciate that their dad cares so much about them.

Rose:

her hair is a touch darker than Ron’s

tall, lean, lanky

long nose and blue eyes

Quidditch fanatic, has played every position, likes being Keeper the most because that was her Dad’s position

total Daddy’s girl. well duh

bi, bi, bi

can’t resist being pedantic

but she’s pretty good at reading people and cheering them up

but sometimes she just. look. she gotta correct them if they’re wrong okay? you just can’t let people be wrong, even if they get upset??

WHY WON’T THEY UNDERSTAND SHE’S HELPING THEM

likes books but will never read them in the library. books are for reading in the sun

can and will punch a bitch

especially a bitch who annoys her little brother

only SHE has the right to annoy her little brother

(James Sirius is not allowed to annoy her little brother after The Incident. Al and Lily are allowed to annoy her little brother a tiny bit. As a treat.)

(What is The Incident? You tell me, you think I’m not making this up as I go?)

kicks ass at chess but isn’t that interested

learned how to say “Open” in Parseltongue from her Dad. turned Salazar Slytherin’s mystical lair into the Potter-Weasley kids’ hangout

marries Scorpius Malfoy. Draco Malfoy reportedly threw a fit in the privacy of his Manor. Ron Weasley however seemed curiously resigned to his daughter’s choice of husband. But surely that didn’t mean anything.

oh by the way. in an absolute power move Scorpius decided to take his wife’s name instead. the Malfoy family ends here folks. rejoice

Hugo:

has bushy, deep auburn hair, almost brown, with burgundy strands

I can’t decide if I want him to be rather small (as in smaller than Rose) like Hermione, or if he shoots up like a building like his Dad

brown eyes

isn’t too interested in Quidditch but will cheer for the Chudley Cannons. Has a childhood fear of Bludgers due to James Sirius (ok I guess I found out what was The Incident)

a Mama’s boy but Dad's cookies are superior

demisexual, doesn’t really have a preference

is the quietest among them

that doesn’t mean he won’t cheer or yell, only that he’ll do it, but quieter

actually has quite the rebel streak underneath that polite smile

the most likely to sigh whenever Rose is being pedantic

look Rosie just because you know it doesn’t mean you have to say it

also the most likely to provide additional explanations to Rosie’s corrections and make you feel even worse about your ignorance but will do so with genuine helpfulness which is kind of disarming to say the least

loves books. especially novels. and plays. he took drama classes

he was very disappointed to learn there’s no drama club at Hogwarts

(he joined the Gobstones club and turned it into his personal drama club. sometimes he also played Gobstones)

would like to know how to speak Parseltongue fluently.

good at chess but would love to play it better

fancies himself a Renaissance man. he wants to do everything. master everything. be good at everything.

sometimes he isn’t good at something fast enough for his tastes and starts crying in frustation

will cry on his sister’s shoulder and will let his sister cry on his shoulder. he’s good at just... being there for people

.............................

Ron and Hermione’s twin daughters

the question isn’t “why”, it’s “why not”

first twin girls to EVER be born in the Weasley family

bushy ginger hair. we’re talking serious carrot-top here

tiny. so tiny. once adult they hardly reach Hermione’s nose

(”Because there was two of you so you couldn’t be as tall as Rose, otherwise I’d have exploded.”)

I don’t know much else about them

I just know they exist

because in my heart of hearts it happened

they weren’t included in the Epilogue because they just weren’t relevant to Harry’s story

(what a selfish guy that Harry)

#vivi answers #ask #ron weasley #hermione granger #romione #hugo weasley #rose weasley #granger weasley #weasley granger #hp headcanon #hp headcanons #scorpius malfoy #scorpius x rose #harry potter series #harry potter

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silverlightqueen · 3 years

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Cursed

silverlightqueen’s SKZ Scarefest

wizard!Seungmin x human!reader - crack comedy, y/n’s a bit of a spoilt brat and Seungmin is not down for it lol

Word Count: 3k+

Summary - Seungmin is the best wizard in town. Poisoned by a pixie? Battered by a troll? Bitten by a were? Whatever the magical injury, Seungmin can fix it in the bat of an eyelid. So when y/n is cursed by a witch and needs his help, she expects to leave his lair curseless only a few minutes later. But her plan… doesn’t quite go to plan.

Warnings: y/n is a total judgemental bitch lmao and Seungmin wants to teach her a lesson, brief mention of blood and vomit, I think that’s it but please let me know if I missed else!

a/n: and here is the seventh instalment of my SKZ Scarefest! I really hope you guys enjoy this, and thank you @silverlightprincess for being the best (she didn’t proofread this either but she’s about to read it after I post it and check for mistakes which I will go back and edit lmao). please be sure to check out the previous parts and keep an eye out for the next parts too x

taglist: @kodzu-ken @cloudsgathering @silverlightprincess

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‘Hi, how can I help?’ the receptionist says, looking up from her computer to give me a friendly smile. ‘Hi, I’ve got an appointment with Dr Kim at 1.30,’ I say, and she blinks at me in surprise before looking at her computer, clicking away. ‘Ah, y/n y/l/n, is it? You booked yesterday?’ ‘Yes, that’s me.’ ‘You’re lucky to get an appointment with Dr Kim so late. And during his lunch break, too! Do you know him?’ she asks, and I hesitate before replying, ‘I used to. We… went to school together.’ ‘Oh, that’s nice! Well, take a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here,’ she says cheerily, and I give her a weak smile before turning to take a seat.

The District 9 Doctors’ Surgery is unlike any Doctors’ Surgery I’ve ever seen before; the reception is relatively normal, with its cold lighting, linoleum flooring and hard backed chairs, but the patients are quite… abnormal. A man is sat two seats away from me, his body covered in hair and long sharp claws protruding from his fingers – I hear him telling the fairy beside him, whose wings are wilted and colourless, that he hasn’t been able to fully turn into his wolf form or his human form for weeks. Opposite them, a vampire sits with a bucket in his lap, vomiting blood into it every few moments, and the centaur stood beside his seat with his tail wrapped in a bloody bandage rubs his back soothingly. I think I’m the only human in here.

Normally, I’d have driven out to the Doctors’ Surgery in the next district – everyone knows that The District 9 Doctors’ Surgery caters specifically to magical injuries – but I somehow don’t think my problem can be solved by a human doctor. When I phoned the surgery yesterday, I asked for the next possible appointment. I was told by the receptionist that that wouldn’t be until mid-November, which never would’ve worked. So I did what I swore I wouldn’t do, and asked the receptionist to ask Dr Kim if he had any availability for y/n y/l/n. The receptionist sounded sceptical, but he put me on hold anyway, and came back to tell me that Dr Kim said he could just about fit me in.

‘Miss y/l/n? Dr Kim is ready to see you in Room 13,’ the receptionist calls out, and I rise from my chair, passing the vomiting vampire with a wince. I head down the clinical corridor, white bar lights flickering overhead, and when I reach Room 13, I take a deep breath and raise my hand to the door. I knock once, twice, and then wait to be told to come in. I hear nothing. I roll my eyes, knocking again a few moments later, and then I hear him call out, ‘Come in!’

I turn the handle, tentatively opening the door and slipping into the room. Whilst the reception may have looked like any old Doctors’ Surgery, Room 13 certainly does not. The walls are black and purple, flickering yellow lamps casting an eerie glow and providing the brightness that the room needs due to having no windows. The floor is an ugly brown and red patterned carpet, the kind you find in a decades old manor house, and wooden shelves and chests of drawers are dotted around the room, covered with various suspicious looking bottles and jars. Old tapestries hang on the walls, and mismatched armchairs and beanbags sit around the rickety table in the middle of the room – I suppose it’s more of a kitchen island type thing than a table – which has a crystal ball, magic wands and various mystical objects sitting atop it. The only things in the room that don’t look otherworldly or ancient are the laptop on the table, and the man stood in front of it, typing away.

He doesn’t look up when I walk in, so I just shut the door behind me, throwing myself down onto the comfiest looking armchair, practically sinking into it. I busy myself with filing my freshly done nails – I love my nail lady, but she can somehow never get them all even – whilst I wait for him to be done. ‘I just cleaned the room and you’re getting nail filings everywhere,’ he says after a few minutes, and I roll my eyes at him. ‘Are you sure you cleaned it? It looks a state,’ I say dryly, and he lets out a little laugh as I pull a flask out of my bag. I get up from my seat and hand him the flask, ignoring his raised eyebrow. ‘Wait, is this-’ ‘Iced americano. The way you like it,’ I say, and he grins, taking it from me with badly hidden excitement. ‘Look at you. Sweetening me up,’ he observes amusedly, and I roll my eyes again. ‘I was making it for myself but now I feel a little sick, so you can have it,’ I lie, and he just gives me a suspicious side-eye before sipping from the flask and letting out a blissful sigh.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asks after a few seconds, and I sigh, dragging one of the higher chairs over to the table and sitting on it, not wanting to be a few feet shorter than him in the armchair. ‘I need your help with something,’ I say, and he looks surprised. ‘Wait, you’re actually here to be treated?’ ‘Um… yes. Why else would I be here?’ I ask confusedly, and he hesitates. ‘Thought you might be here to… see me,’ he says quietly, and I feel a little awkward. ‘I… Seungmin, you have to understand w-’ ‘I understand, y/n, I completely understand, and I don’t blame you. It’s just that I’ve… missed you. And I don’t mean I’ve missed our relationship. I’ve missed you in my life. You don’t even show up to family events anymore, and my mum keeps asking why she hasn’t seen you. I don’t have the heart to tell her what happened,’ he murmurs, my heart twisting with guilt. I’m not quite sure what to say, desperately wracking my brains, but there isn’t anything to say, so we’re both silent.

Seungmin and I grew up living in houses opposite each other. Our parents were best friends, so we were best friends. We remained that way through nursery, all of school, and into our adult lives too. I was quite proud of having a wizard best friend who could solve nearly any problem I ever had. He made sure I never failed any tests, hurt myself, got into trouble, and he fixed anything I ever broke, found everything I ever lost, made sure nothing bad ever happened to me. And then we did the worst thing we could’ve done, and we fell in love with each other. Two years later, I had aged two years, and Seungmin had not – wizards are immortal, and so he stopped aging from the age of 18. 22-year-old me was dating 18-year-old Seungmin. It doesn’t seem like much of an issue, but I started thinking about the future. What about when I turned 30, and Seungmin still hadn’t aged a day into adulthood? When we’d had a child together, and he looked more like the kid’s sibling than the father?

‘Anyway… what’s wrong? Why’d you need my help?’ he asks, and I sigh deeply. ‘Basically… I was at the club with Chaeryeong the other night, and we were in the toilets, and I was putting on lipgloss. This girl next to me asked if she could use it, and I was like, ‘um, no’, because who shares lipgloss with a stranger in a club, and she got angry and started saying, ‘you think you’re so gorgeous, and you think you’re better than me,’ and basically went off on one, so I may have retaliated slightly, and turns out she was a witch, so she put a curse on me,’ I explain all in one breath, and Seungmin raises a sceptical eyebrow. ‘You wanna tell me what really happened?’ he asks, and I blink once, twice, before sighing.

‘She asked to borrow my lipgloss and I was kinda drunk and I may have been a bit of a bitch and told her she needed more than just lipgloss to fix her face,’ I admit ashamedly, and Seungmin’s mouth falls open. ‘y/n!’ ‘What? It’s not like I lied! Her makeup was terrible! It was the completely wrong colour for her skin, she hadn’t blended it, her eyelashes weren’t the right shape for her eyes and she hadn’t glued them on properly so they were hanging off, her eyeshadow clashed with her lipstick, it was all terrible! I wasn’t about to let her put my expensive ass lipgloss on top of that god-awful lipstick. So I tried to give her some girl-to-girl advice, but I was drunk so it came out the wrong way!’ I say defensively, Seungmin shaking his head at me in disbelief.

‘Did you tell her all those things? ‘…I may have, yes.’ ‘You’re such a bitch, y/n. Maybe she did her makeup like that on purpose. Maybe no one’s ever taught her how to do makeup. You didn’t need to come for her like that. God,’ he says, voice laced with shock and disappointment, and I feel like a little kid being told off by their teacher. ‘I apologised when she started crying b-’ ‘You made her cry?’ he demands, voice going up a few octaves, and I pout. ‘I didn’t mean to! I apologised, but she was already angry, so she cursed me,’ I say in a small voice, Seungmin’s unimpressed gaze making me feel quite ashamed. Not that I didn’t already! He’s just making me feel worse.

‘What was the curse she put on you?’ he asks, and I let out an angry noise just at the thought of it. ‘That I’ll age to look quadruple how old I actually am,’ I spit, and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. ‘I’ve never heard that before. She probably just said it to scare you.’ ‘That’s what I thought. Until this happened,’ I say, turning my head away and lifting up my hair to reveal the base of my neck. I hear him suck in a breath, knowing he’s seeing the lock of hair at the back of my head, the one that’s now a powdery grey colour, wiry and ratty amongst the perfectly healthy hair that I put so much effort into looking after.

‘My body’s getting achy and I’ve got all these pains everywhere that I didn’t have a couple days ago. So I think the curse is real, Seungmin,’ I say seriously, and he nods, looking thoughtful. ‘So you want me to lift the curse off you?’ he asks, and I nod, giving him my best wide innocent eyes. ‘Can you do it?’ I ask, and he’s silent for a moment before replying, ‘I can. But I won’t.’ My heart drops, my mouth falling open slightly, and I blink at him a few times before I say, ‘what do you mean, you won’t?’ ‘I won’t lift the curse off you. You were rude and bitchy to that girl and not once have you shown me that you feel guilty about it. Instead, you’re sat here defending yourself and complaining about her like a little brat, so I think this should teach you a lesson,’ he says simply, and I stare at him in shock.

‘You’re joking, right? I demand, anger flaring through me at the way his eyes sparkle with mirth. ‘No, I’m being serious, actually. You judged that girl based on how she looked – I’m sure if she was conventionally pretty, with flawless makeup, you’d have lent her your lipgloss without a second thought, and probably becomes best friends with her too. That girl might have been the nicest person you’d ever come across. But you wouldn’t know, because you were mean to her. Now, the shoe will be on the other foot. You’ve coasted through life getting what you want because you’re pretty, and now that you’ll look all wrinkly and saggy, we’ll see how you like being on the receiving end of people’s judgement,’ he says cheerfully, my mouth falling open more and more as he speaks.

‘Seungmin, I’m sorry for being a bitch. I really am, and I do regret it. But surely that slightly bitchy behaviour doesn’t warrant this. Me looking like an ancient pensioner! I’ve learnt my lesson. Please don’t do this,’ I say desperately, starting to actually worry that he might not lift the curse. ‘Hmm, I don’t know if you have learnt your lesson, y/n. It’s not like I can take your word for it, because if I didn’t know you any better, you’d have gotten away with telling me a twisted version of what really happened. You’re a compulsive liar. So, I apologise, but I won’t be lifting the curse,’ he says seriously, but his lips are quirked up at the corners, making me realise he’s actually amused by this situation.

‘Seungmin, this isn’t a joke! You cannot let this happen to me!’ I shriek, panic making my hands shake, and he raises an eyebrow at me. ‘Shouting won’t make me change my mind,’ he says dryly, the two of us staring at each other, very different emotions in our gazes, and he sighs a few moments later. ‘How about this? When you show a true act of selflessness and generosity without any kind of judgement, the curse will break,’ he says, taking my hands into his as he speaks, and when I register his words, I snatch them away angrily. ‘No! I don’t want any stupid conditions or things I have to do! Just take the fucking curse off me, Min!’ I scream, fury making my voice waver, and he just laughs.

‘You took your hands away too late – it’s done now. This will teach you your lesson,’ he grins, and I want to literally throw myself across the table and teach him a lesson instead. ‘Seungie, please,’ I pout, stooping lower than I ever thought I would, and he hesitates for a moment before shaking his head, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘No, y/n. It’s done. Try not to judge someone based on their appearance for once, and you’ll be rewarded for it,’ he says mildly, and I just stare at him in disbelief for a few moments. ‘Are you doing this because I dumped you?’ I ask, unable to believe he simply wants to teach me a lesson, and he bursts out into laughter. ‘Flattering yourself a little there, aren’t you? No, y/n, that’s not why. Stop trying to find reasons to play this down. There are no other factors for this punishment other than your nasty behaviour.’ ‘Punishment? What are you, my dad? You don’t get to punish me!’ ‘I know you better than your dad does, better than anyone else does, and I know you’re better than this. I’m trying to help you.’ ‘You’ve got a funny way of showing it!’ I exclaim, silence falling between us.

‘If that’s all, y/n-’ ‘If that’s all? If that’s all?’ ‘Yes. If that’s all, you can leave. I only have ten minutes left of my lunch break, and then I’ve got another appointment. So you can go,’ he says with a small grin, effectively dismissing me like a parent sends a child to their room, and I let out an angry huff. ‘I can’t believe this. Some shitty doctor you are,’ I say childishly, bitter about this lesson he’s trying to teach me, and he just rolls his eyes amusedly. ‘My thousands of satisfied patients say otherwise. But that’s okay – you can’t please everyone. Especially not judgemental little brats,’ he grins, and I let out a shrill noise of rage, pushing myself up off the seat and grabbing my bag from the armchair.

‘And I’ll take this!’ I exclaim pettily, snatching the half-empty flask from the table, and he just laughs at me, making me feel even more murderous than I already do. ‘You’ll thank me eventually, y/n,’ he says gently, and I let out another angry huff. ‘I doubt it,’ I hiss, stomping towards the door and, just as I think I can’t be any more immature, I kick the shelves nearest me, watching as it wobbles and falls over to the side before stopping mid-air. ‘Really? How childish of you,’ Seungmin says amusedly, one hand outstretched in the direction of the shelves, his magic holding them up, and I let out an angry scream, sounding a lot like Regina George when she was putting herself in the Burn Book to get back at Cady. Is this really what I’ve become? How embarrassing,

‘I’ll see you at Jackson’s for Halloween,’ he calls out behind me as I reach the door. ‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ I hiss venomously, ‘my brittle bones may have already given way by then. God knows if I’ll even be able to walk, thanks to you!’ ‘No, y/n, you only have yourself to blame for this,’ he says, as he shakes his head with a sad smile. ‘Oh, cut out all the philosophical teaching-moment shit,’ I spit, wrenching open the door. As I do so, one of my nails flies off my finger. Not just the fake nail my technician put on this morning. The entire nail.

I hold back a gag, hearing Seungmin stifling laughter behind me, and I look away from it, feeling quite sick. My eyes meet Seungmin’s, and he must take pity on me when he sees how they’re full of angry and helpless tears, and he waves a hand in my direction. When I look down at my hand again, the nail is back in place, good as new. I look back at him in surprise, and he looks a little embarrassed. ‘No more of your nails will fall out. But I’m not fixing anything else for you. Now go, before your stupid pretty face convinces me to lift the curse,’ he says, and I feel a little hope spark in my chest. ‘Seungie, p-’ ‘Nuh-uh. Get outta here. Now.’ ‘But S-‘ ‘y/n, I will call security!’

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capesandshapes · 3 years

Note

"snowflake the fairy and her boyfriend BRAD" capes no

Fuck you, this is an invitation and since you asked for it on anon everyone else has to suffer through it too.

Learn about Snowflake and her mystical boyfriend Brad below the cut.

I'm going to give you some background, and by that I mean, I'm going to humiliate myself awfully beforehand: When I was a kid, I freaking loved the Winx club and I would wake up at six am on Saturdays to watch it. Since Winx club began to air with I was eight years old and took a long hiatus in America around the time I turned ten/eleven and my parents also coincidentally had a bunch of computers laying around for me to play around and type on since my dad worked for IBM-- it's safe to assume that I spent nearly every free moment of those three years thinking about this cursed concept and plotting these awful books.

So like, the Winx club was aired on PBS in the midwestern market at an ungodly hour since they also served the east coast, and I would literally go to sleep the second the sun went down to watch it. I was kind of a weird kid, so I always pretended that I was tuning a tv to turn to my favorite channel before bed and so forth, then I'd have these dreams that I was pretty in control of.

And again.

I was obsessed with Winx.

So, obviously, I had these dumb dreams about winx fairies and all of that, but the show wasn't going exactly how I wanted it after like a season (thanks freaking RIVEN) so I drifted away from that and started dreaming about, writing about, and obsessing about my own rip off winx.

Enter, Snowflake. Red hair, blue eyes. Fire powers, even though her name was Snowflake. A clear rip-off of Bloom, but like picture more dresses and she's a fairy who lives in a fucking igloo.

Snowflake started out clearly interested in two men who, I shit you not, were named Brad and Joey. Brad had blonde hair and blue eyes, he was a rip-off of bloom's boyfriend but shirtless 90% of the time and fucking useless. Joey broke my heart. Joey was a rip-off of good old Riven, the love of my young life, only add a cool, tough tattoo on his arm that was a literal knife with the word 'hurt' underneath it.

Snowflake started out as a princess who went to a boarding school, but eventually, I realized that I didn't need the rest of those bitches around (by that I mean literally all of the other students). So Snowflake was a princess who hung out in her kingdom and had like three friends who were decidedly beneath her; Stacey, Edna, and Kay. Kay was Joey's twin sister. They were basically yes girls with one note personalities, save for Kay, who was like Snowflake's best friend and had light powers that were totally ripped off of the Dazzler and useless 90% of the time.

The meat of the story is that there was this older fairy who wanted to melt Snowflake's home and flood the world. She was named Carly because, surprise, I was bullied by a girl named Carly. Carly (in the story) bit people, but like, not as a vampire thing, she just like ate them? You didn't die or even bleed, and the part would grow back, I think I just thought that cannibalism was a pretty mean thing to do.

And also Carly wanted to abduct Snowflake to make her melt the world because Snowflake was basically a glorified lighter.

This all sounds twice as stupid when I write it out.

Anyway, so Snowflake's main boo was Brad, since Joey would have random fits and decide to be evil every once in a while and that was 'annoying'. The problem with Brad, however, was that he was a classic himbo and always got captured and had to be saved from the evil lair (an apartment inside a literal volcano) -- They always caught Brad because, I have no idea why, the idiot of the year was always hanging out in a hot tub and I'm pretty sure that's because that was the only way that my little brain could comprehend him being shirtless all the time as I needed him to be.

But eventually, like the eighth time Snowflake came to rescue him, Brad died. Like, Snowflake saw him across the clearing and this villain literally pushed a fucking boulder on him. I outlined in word and printed out on one of the five pieces of paper my parents would let me have every day (To keep my sister and I from stealing and printing on a whole ream) that this man literally had a boulder rolled on him. Like, Carly climbed up the stairs, went to a ledge, and had the fucking time to roll a boulder on him while Snowflake was talking.

And her spirits were crushed almost as flat as Brad was.

So like Snowflake decided to go out with Joey who was like, "have you ever considered being evil idk it's occasionally fun" and became evil and melted the world? Listen, trauma can change a girl.

Then she became a mermaid and brought her friends back as merzombies

But she wasn't happy, even though she could now wear black and cut her hair? Also Joey kissed with tongue and Brad didn't, so that should have been a major plus.

I really think it was just because Joey wore a shirt all the time, but who knows.

Snowflake's dead parents who died off-screen sometime showed up as ghosts and told her that she could do anything with the power of love. She asked them to stay, AND THEN THEY LITERALLY SAID SOMETHING LIKE, "sorry, we can't be here with you, you can do anything with the power of love, but we're not in love with you, DAUGHTER."

UNDERWATER

Snowflake cried on Brad's FLAT body and the tears somehow touched it and he was brought back to life and then immediately started to drown because I had a baseline understanding of biology, and by that I mean I understood that people did not breathe water.

Brad dying a second time in front of her made her powers explode

so, somehow, she unlocked all the powers of the HTRAE (THAT'S THE WHOLE UNIVERSE'S NAME, NOT THE PLANET. It's Earth backwards, because technically the planet is just inside earth-- Listen I can't explain this shit very well) and froze her kingdom again

and then suddenly like, controlled all the elements. Like bam, she is nature, bitch. This includes metal. No idea why. Just elements plus metal, which again, not an actual element there.

But it couldn't be over, because I'm from the midwest and my grandma is the head of the church commitee. Ten year old Beth knows how love and romance work, okay, she knows how to craft a fucking story and where to end it.

so I was like I guess her and BRAD get married. And then Joey came back to fight for her hand and he won, but Snowflake didn't love him so she froze him? EVEN THOUGH SHE LIKED HIS TONGUE KISSES.

SHE CRIED BECAUSE OF THE TONGUE KISSES I SWEAR.

And then her and Brad literally got onto a horse to ride into the sunset and made out-- With tongue.

and that's just like a really brief summary of my actual hundreds of printed pages (10 pt font) of nonsensical plot that was going to make up the Snowflake Series, and as an eleven year old I was convinced that this would sell for millions of dollars and everyone would be so impressed that they'd carve, 'Creator of Snowflake', into my tombstone.

#this is the worst thing i've ever explained/written on here

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adozentothedawn · 3 years

Text

Winx Club Rewatch Log Part 3 (eps. 11-15)

The swamp episode is very out of place, but also very fun. Most episodes tie into the main plot somehow, but a few of them are just there as filler. Weirdly enough those tend to be my favourites.

j/ The evil looking tree is very subtle.

Daphne as the nymph of magix doesn't make a whole lot of sense. More on that later.

j/ Speaking of throw away characters, the nurse!

I really like the miss contest episode. No good reason, just nostalgia and the fact that I just like this trope in fantasy stories. Also, despite being a show for little girls, Stella's actions don't go without consequence! She does the show, and because of that, fails her test.

j/ The Trix are again very subtle. And lucky that they're in a kids show where no one seems to have a brain. Also thank you Icy for this absolute zinger: 'Short is approved, or I'd have to shorten him a little.' No really though, it sounds pretty funny in german and the voice acting on that line is on point.

I love that they made Stella a cowgirl. They could have done anything, any standard pretty girl routine, and they went with cowgirl.

j/ Palladium is so frustrated he throws his pen around.

I love that Bloom is now so dismissive of Mitzie. If she wants to be a bitch that's her problem. You go, Bloom! She's not your problem.

The aura thing is, of course, immediately abandoned. Also Bloom's mom is incredibly gullible.

I like Bloom's backstory. I like that her dad is a fire fighter. I don't like Bloom's baby design. It's weirdly unshapely. Why do babies in kids shows always Look so weird?

j/ I'd be more interested in that test Bloom's doing if I had any idea at all what she's doing.

j/ The fact that Riven is still hanging out outside his ex-friends' door is kind of sad.

Bloom and Sky are cute. Himbos for the win. Nagging is stupid.

Myrta, I love you. I feel you. You are the single most relatable character in this show. Also I love that her revenge plan is basically 'be a good person'. (Also I still think they're just talking Italian in the spells. Any Italian reading this, were the spells understandable in the original voice over or just some fake language?)

Both Bloom and Sky are really stupid for buying this book thing. You've been lied to in this exact place before. This is a random book in a place you know is hostile to you. Why are you buying this?

I'll give them points for really trying to have the girls work together to find Bloom, even if they're clearly grasping for straws.

This episode is completely useless and not very entertaining, except for establishing Myrta, and immediately removing her. This might be the first episode I really dislike.

For some reason I'm very tempted to write a lesbian love story for Daphne. No I don't know why, but if she's willing to be my muse I'll take it. We'll see.

I like the whole cheating is bad subplot. It's chlicheed, but I like this trope. Also it's funny.

As much as I like Daphne, she doesn't make sense. Why is she a legend? She was a young woman who died 16 years ago. She was crown princess of an important planet. Most people should at least be aware of her. And I'll take the nymph part, maybe she just wasn't keen on becoming queen and found herself another job, but why do they act like she's this mystical figure from eons ago? It's like they had two ideas and just decided to keep both.

#winx club #my log

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orderofthedyingstar · 4 years

Text

RECAP: SESSION 11

SESSION ELEVEN

The party continues their journey down Elfslayer’s Run, briefly taking respite in a small rest area a few hours from Whitwood. The head North towards Mirror Lake, where Verrix recalls there being a small village at the edge of the lake. Verrrix struggles to recall why he’d been in this area before, the Voice in his head taunting him with annoying (Jeopardy) music the longer he takes to remember anything, making him completely lose his train of thought. Jun, cryptic as always, has a ‘theory’ that he’s unwilling to share, since he doesn’t feel very sure about it. Verrix (who was definitely eavesdropping) notices a few tell-tale signs that Jun’s casting a spell, but he doesn’t know what or on who.

Rhododendron: “Jun, if I knew your last name - ”

Jun: “It’s for the best you don’t.”

Rhododendron: “That’s what you think.”

Jun: “No, that’s what I know.”

Rhododendron tries to annoy an answer out of Jun for an hour straight, Marlee bopping the back of her head with a book every time she gets too loud. After a while Rhododendron gives up, going over to Marlee to apologize for ‘being a bitch’ to her the day before, and Marlee announces that they’re ‘bro‘s now’, lending her a well-worn book titled Webs of Luscious Silk. When Rhododendron tries asking her about ‘Verrix’s’ book, Marlee warns her that they’ll officially be in a book club if she answers, and that Rhododendron will have to put up with any and all commentary she has about all of her books. When the group stops for a short rest, Rhododendron goes through the book Marlee lent her and finds that it depicts a …strange romance involving a drider love interest.

They spend the next two days traveling towards the lake, looting an old bandit camp along the way for some supplies and gold. Rhododendron checks in on Verrix’s magic and its tendency for blowback, leading to a few jokes about it’s adverse effects causing Rhododendron to be short. She also tries to get Jun to talk about his theory again, but he says that he wants to hold on to it for a little longer to attempt to be ‘emotionally sensitive’. As the party moves through the more heavily wooded part of Elfslayer’s Run, Verrix takes point on leading them through the woods (21 Survival check) and gets them through it completely unharnessed. They arrive at Mirror Lake, easily the biggest body of water Rhododendron (and only her, actually) has seen - she tries to get Inigo to jog his memory and he immediately responds by stripping down to his underwear and jumping into the lake. He swims around in the lake a little, telling everyone else not to come in because of how cold it is and that he’ll probably be fine because of ‘aasimar stuff’. Marlee immediately heads towards the only tavern in the entire tiny village, cold and bored of watching Inigo swim around.

Verrix, staring at Inigo’s pile of clothes: “Hey, is that what you meant by ‘center yourself’? Cause I’m not doing that.”

Jun: “I don’t know, Verrix. It could be really helpful for magic. Could have mystical properties.”

Rhododendron: “Don’t you trust Inigo?”

Verrix: “I’m not gonna answer that.”

While Inigo is swimming around in the lake, Jun also reveals that he’s figured out that someone has put a spell on him preventing him from regaining all of his memories; repeated spells layered over and over each other. He expresses doubts that spell will fade on its own, but there might be some restorative magic that might help; Jun hasn’t wanted to bring it up to Inigo without trying to figure out a solution - another problem without an answer. Jun also compares the feeling on the spells on Inigo to Rhododendron’s curse, but is careful not to be too specific around Verrix since Rhododendron still doesn’t want anyone else to know, although Verrix can tell Rhododendron is hiding something from him. The three of them then realize that they haven’t heard from Inigo in a while, and spot him far off in the center of the lake.

Rhododendron: “Verrix, you should go into the water and get him, it won’t affect you since you’re an aasimar.”

Jun: “Sounds like a good idea.”

Rhododendron: “See? When has Jun ever been wrong?”

Jun: “OH - ”

Rhododendron: “Hey. Shhh.”

After some half-hearted arguing Rhododendron finally just pushes Verrix into the lake, getting water and sand all over his hair and his cloak. Verrix mopes and makes vague threats at Rhododendron for a few minutes before going after Inigo, who doesn’t want to come back yet because he still has some ‘memory searching’ to do.

Verrix: “This is worse than when I got shot.”

It takes Verrix several tries before he finally manages to convince a very distractible Inigo to come back to shore. Verrix dips cold water down Rhododendron’s back. The three of them (Jun left to join Marlee at the tavern) finally head into the small village town Reflections. Rhododendron asks their two other party members if they’ve found anything interesting in the tavern, to which both of them point out that the proprietor is weirdly obsessed with death: the place is covered in depictions of the Astral Plane and Nahaliel, the god of death and the arcane. Marlee also points out that the tavern looks like it used to be a temple, and she can tell where pews have been removed and the old cleric’s quarters used to be. Rhododendron goes over to the owner, who laughs when Rhododendron points out that the place’s death theme is a little strange for a tavern. The owner, Haley, admits that the place is a family business but her mother and grandmother were both clerics of Nahaliel whereas she wanted to make some money out of the place. Rhododendron asks if Haley has seen any fire genasi around, to which she says that one passed through with a dwarf the other day on their honeymoon and went off into the mountains about a week ago. Before Rhododendron goes back to her table, Haley offers her a small Nahaliel keychain, which she takes.

Rhododendron: “The bartender said that a fire genasi and a dwarf came through here on their…honeymoon.”

Verrix: “They’re getting married?”

Rhododendron: “I certainly hope not. No. If after three years of commitment he still won’t - he’s not gonna do it. But that’s besides the point…anyways…”

Rhododendron goes back up to the bar, where Haley offers Rhododendron a quarter of a shot of dwarven ale, putting it in a small vial and giving it to her on the house. The group gets their things together and starts to head up into the mountains, Jun pulling on a huge sweater over his other clothes and complaining that he doesn’t like the mountains. As they head up into the mountains, Verrix and Rhododendron keep pushing each other out of the way to try to prove who’s better at navigating, accidentally sprinting ahead of the rest of their party. Rhododendron tries tracking Umbra as they travel, noticing traces of fire genasi, a dwarf, and several gnolls in the area as well as local wildlife.

The party spots a cave tucked away in a higher part of the mountains, and after some difficulty on Verrix’s end (resulting in Marlee throwing him up into the cave and straight into Jun) they start investigating the area. They sneak around towards an outcropping deeper in the cave and find a small group of gnolls, and after some debate they decide to leave the gnolls alone, since they technically haven’t done anything to the party.

Marlee: “Marlee ain’t about bloodlust.”

Verrix: “We could talk to them, see if they’re evil?”

Marlee: “And then what, bring divine judgement on them? That’s not our job.”

Rhododendron: “Isn’t it your job?”

Marlee: “(scoffs) …Sometimes. If you upset Nyvarstra.”

Rhododendron: “Maybe you should pray and ask?”

Marlee: “Nah, we’re not cool like that. It’s more like a one-way…thing. Always watching…”

The party creeps back towards an area closer to the cave entrance to get a few hours of sleep, rotating through with a careful watch to make sure the gnolls don’t notice them. During their watch, Rhododendron asks Jun a little about the hag, starting him off on an annoyed rant about the situation and that she should really tell Verrix about it.

Jun: “You don’t know exactly what - it’s like prophecies, you don’t know what it is until it’s already hitting you in the face with your friend’s blood on your hands! To be, uh, hypothetical.”

Jun tells Rhododendron the specifics of the spell/curse cast on her: a Geas that she cannot act directly against without the possibility of dying. She asks if there’s a way to get rid of the curse, to which he says that there aren’t really many options outside of Wish (Jun: “Short of a miracle there isn’t much you can do to remove it”). Rhododendron also asks Jun about blood magic, to which he says that it is both potent and dangerous, and that it felt like divine energy when Umbra was using it on them - ’a direct link to the gods’. Jun also reminds Rhododendron that he wasn’t able to see into Inigo or Umbra’s minds back when he worked at the Cobalt Keep, and that he’s been able to pick up other aasimar’s thoughts just fine. Jun dodges several other questions before they drop the subject and go through the smut from Marlee book instead, amused and horrified at the ‘interesting’ scene depictions.

During Verrix and Marlee’s watch, Marlee gets bored and starts throwing pieces of her bedroll at the wall, where they land next to Rhododendron’s face in a small pile. Marlee lights the pile on fire after she runs out of breadcrumbs, and Verrix puts his hand between the fire and Rhododendron’s face. Their watch is otherwise uneventful, as is Inigo and Rhododendron’s second watch after that. Although during their watch Inigo manages to remember that the cave they’re looking for is somewhere on Lord Grah’s Peak, and that while he feels like he’s known Umbra for a while it still doesn’t sound right to say that they’ve been around since he was a child either.

After everyone has slept they set off for the area Inigo talked about, wary of the giants that Haley back at the Reflections tavern mentioned. As they travel higher into the mountain range they hear loud crashing noises, and they try to be quiet with the exception of Marlee (Stealth 2), who is freezing in her armor. As the party climbs higher they see two giants tossing boulders around at each other, and they try to figure out a way to get around them without getting squashed. Marlee offers to try talking to the giants, saying she knows how in theory, but none of them feel confident in the plan. Eventually they decide to use Inigo as a distraction, making him promise not to fight the giants without Rhododendron asking him to. Rhododendron and Jun cast Longstrider and Invisibility on Inigo, and he gets the giants’ attention with some surprisingly good flute playing as the rest of the party starts to sneak up the mountain path. As they’re climbing up the mountain Rhododendron spots a crack in the mountain that cool air is coming out of - when Verrix takes a look inside he sees ornate dragon statues lining the walls. The continue further up the path and find a large boulder (the size of a small car) blocking the cave entrance and after a few tries Marlee manages to shove it out of the way.

The giants start to catch up to Inigo, with Rhododendron and Verrix launching some arrows and Fire Bolts respectively to cover him. Just as Inigo reaches the cave entrance, the giants catch up to the party and snatch up Rhododendron and Verrix in the process. The party gets into an unwilling fight with the giants, Verrix and Rhododendron trapped in the giants’ grip until Jun casts Mind Spike on the giant holding Verrix and the rest of the party wails on the other giant until Jun can set its feet on fire. Verrix completely incinerates one of the giants, and while he and Inigo try and finish of the last giant Rhododendron insists that the (badly wounded) Inigo retreat into the cave with the rest of the party. Jun finally manages to snap Inigo out of his rage by placing him in the center of a Fog Cloud, covering his and Rhododendron’s escape into the cave.

The hall of the cave is lined with statues of Nyvarstra every few feet, which is strange considering its location in a mountain range sacred to Ardrin, god of creation and the Material Plane. Marlee says that she can feel that Nyvarstra has been angered with whatever has happened here, an all-consuming divine anger ‘like when she smites’. She also notes that she can feel the presence of other divine energies but isn’t in tune with them enough to identify them.

Marlee: “What, I can’t be religious and horny? Nyvarstra.”

Despite his reluctance, Jun casts Locate Object and manages to sense that Raz’s amulet of Nyvarstra is somewhere nearby, below them. The party takes a brief break to lick their wounds before continuing onward. They try to sneak through the halls of the cave but keep running into each other. Verrix, despite all of this, manages to spot a trap and gets the party (plus Rhododendron, who extinguished her light for stealth purposes and can’t see) to sneak around it. The hall opens up to a large room lined with unlit sconces and an alter at the far end flanked by another statue of Nyvarstra. They light the sconces while Jun casts Detect Magic; Marlee examines the altar and says that it feels like blasphemous magic was cast here. The table near the altar is covered in old blood, along with other items such as a dagger and bird bones. Marlee also manages to find a small onyx statue of Zelia, the god of war, justice, and sacrifice. Inigo examines the statue and says that something about it seems familiar, but that there isn’t anything about the room specifically that he recognizes. Marlee says that while she thinks there were magical rituals done here, she doesn’t sense anything tied to necromancy or sacrificing people.

Marlee: “Kinda seems like someone was just trying to get attention. Talk, commune.”

Jun finally manages to uncover a trapdoor beneath their feet, although the hole is too deep to see the bottom. Verrix and Jun tie some rope to the large statue of Nyvarstra in the room and the party climbs down into the trapdoor.

Inigo: “There was a war god up there?”

Rhododendron: “I mean, he wasn’t just chilling up there.”

Inigo: “Be kinda funny if he was though.”

Rhododendron: “No, no -”

Inigo (laughing): “Fight a god.”

Rhododendron: “No, no, no.”

Inigo: “Kind of funny.”

Rhododendron: “That’s an incredibly terrible idea.”

The party eventually makes it to a split in the hallway and can see sunlight streaming through some small cracks in the walls. They take the hall on the left first, which opens up into a balcony displaying a large valley far below the mountain, the entire valley lined by statues of soldiers facing an ancient set of some enormous creature’s bones. The path on the right leads to a bedroom with some travel equipment scattered on the ground (including Raz’s statue) and a boulder sitting in the middle of the bed. Verrix and Marlee are both kind of creeped out by the boulder, and they start bothering it until the rock monster awakens and slaps the shit out of Marlee. Jun sets the bed on fire, distressing the creature, and Rhododendron uses the distraction to go through all of Raz’s stuff on the floor - it’s a pile of rations, traveling supplies, old hole-filed underwear, and their clerical journal. She snatches the journal and tells the party that it’s time to leave, trapping the boulder-creature in the room.

Inigo: “Did you find everything you were looking for?”

Rhododendron: “Not really, no.”

Rhododendron is crushed, admitting that they’ve exhausted their only real lead. Verrix and Marlee point out that Raz might have left notes in their journal, but Rhododendron is still too upset about not finding them to really put any effort into it yet. They decide to rest in a safer spot in the cave, and Rhododendron finally leafs through the journal after resting for a while, finding that Raz talks about where they’ve travelled with Umbra and him wanting to head North towards the capital of So’Joh. Rhododendron realizes that there is only one major city (Brackenwood) between here and So’Joh’s capital, and that a journey on the Long Road would take at least a month. Raz also has some brief descriptions on Zelia, the war god, in the journal, and they question Umbra’s connections to the god and their weird obsession with Nyvarstra and aasimar. Rhododendron fills Verrix in on what she’s found out, and that in order to follow them she would have to go to the capital of So’Joh. She also tells Verrix that she doesn’t think Jun will come with them.Verrix and Rhododendron confer with Inigo a little bit, discussing the impending journey on the Long Road and potentially get horses to speed along the journey a little bit. After that, Rhododendron wakes up Jun and tells him that she plans on going to the capital of So’Joh, and is surprised when he says he’s coming along regardless of his past there.

Jun: “So before you head to So’Joh, there’s probably a story I should tell you.”

#god this session was rly funny #also jun’s dramatic ass i s2g #and verrix...bro....ily #also!!! RHODODENDRON is BACK from the war ily by girl #dndas #dndas recap #dnd another sunrise

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samwisethewitch · 3 years

Text

I’m on Patreon!

Have you been itching to go deeper in your study of paganism, witchcraft, and/or alternative spirituality, but aren’t sure where to start? Are you unable to find a teacher or community in your area? Are you tired of the misinformation and lack of transparency in a lot of online resources?

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Access to the coven Discord server. This is an exclusive community for advice, sharing, and discussion of all things witchy/pagan. We’ve already got the beginnings of a great little community! I’ve really enjoyed getting to know the folks who are already a part of the server, and we have a lot of great conversations. We use the Discord server to share glimpses of our practice, ask for advice and tips, discuss magical theory, and talk about other special interests. I am much more active on Discord than on Tumblr, so if you want to speak to me directly this is the place to do it.

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Access to the coven Discord server.

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Exclusive voting on future content.

Participation in our monthly LIVE full moon circle.

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desdemonafictional · 5 years

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27 Club

Original fiction

short story (rough draft)

zombies/disturbing imagery

The guard at the gate was wearing sunglasses. It was ten o’clock at night.

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, “it’s at capacity. No more tickets.”

“Lynda’s my ride home,” Althea said. Her nose ring flashed as her nostrils flared. “She can’t just go now! I’ve got work in the morning!”

“Please,” Lynda said. She was wearing one of the four identical Fight Club t-shirts she’d bought from the sales rack at the Wal-Mart and chopped up in a series of miniscule different ways in search of some kind of post-corporate statement. This was the one that Althea had made: the most daring cut and the clumsiest stitches. “I’ll just hang out at the merch table, I promise.”

The venue was out at the edge of town, a long way from either of their homes. They had been over at Craig’s house, talking about the scene lately, when Althea casually unfolded the letter of invitation she had received the night before from a friend of a friend down at the club, resplendent with one small, free ticket. In strange old-fashioned type it listed the times and the location of the venue, and Althea, by name. They passed the paper around and around, but nobody seemed to know who had booked the stadium out at the edge of town. Kent Kinley, who had been drinking Sierra Mist and vodka at the back table, knew almost every single band that passed through, even the dad-rock ones, and he had no idea who or what the performers were.

“It’s probably Reignstorm’s side project,” Althea said. She leaned forward, cleavage flashing under her tank top. “Mcleod’s been awfully cagey the last couple times I’ve talked to him.”

“I don’t think so, Thea,” Kent had said. “He can barely fill a venue downtown, and the stadium is big.”

Lynda watched Althea consider a series of propositions with the careful poise of a judge presiding over a courtroom, egging the argument on each time it threatened to die down again, and she had thought: this is something Althea likes. And then, as if someone else had opened up her mouth and spoken out of it, she had said: “If you want to check it out, I’ll drive you.”

The look on Althea’s face as her attention finally fell on Lynda—delight, calculation, shrewd interest—made Lynda feel ten years old again, holding out the glittering creature she’d snared to the pretty girl on the swing set whose brown curls flashed gold in the sunshine. The Althea of that distant playground and the Althea of this queenly basement court never seemed so much the same as that moment. Her heart fluttered like a butterfly in her child hands.

Just like it always had been, by the time Lynda realized what she’d done, it was too late to back out.

So here they were, just the two of them together again for the first time in almost a decade, as Althea gradually got more and more bent out of shape yelling at the bouncer. Lynda hung back, unconsciously hovering just outside of the splash zone. At the gate there were posters for old country singers and some pop star’s reunion tour, but nothing with tonight’s dates, and nothing that seemed to match the sound coming over the wall. From the moment she’d stepped out of the car it had seemed to clutch at her, a bass thump that rattled the pebbles on the sidewalk, a rhythm like it was running to catch up with itself and tripping forward into terror.

She jumped as Althea grabbed her hand, startled by the sudden touch and unnerved by the darkness. “Fine!” Althea said, “the band sounds shitty anyway!”

Lynda trotted after her, trying to keep up, until they were well out of sight of the bouncer or the gate. The sound of something like a violin gasped over the top of the wall, setting Lynda’s teeth on edge. It seemed to keen, more like a wounded animal than an instrument.

Althea skidded to a stop. “Okay,” she said, “stand next to the wall. Back up to it.”

Lynda slowly scooted towards the wall, until Althea impatiently pushed her flat against it and pushed a finger into the concrete right at the top of her head. She glanced up from it like she was measuring. Her brown curls flashed green and gold in the street lights. “Shit. You’re not tall enough,” she said. “I won’t be able to pull you up after me.”

Lynda looked from the top of the wall to the marker-finger to Althea, who was scanning the sidewalk. She did not want to hop a fence, and she certainly did not want to get any closer to that keening whine on the other side of the wall, but it had been her idea to come out here and she couldn’t afford to back out now. She had no idea how she’d managed to pull off even this much. Althea had hardly said ten words to her in a month of Craig’s Friday night basement parties, despite how much she’d tried to make herself available for conversation. It had seemed like such mystic serendipity when Althea had first seen her shopping for shirts in the Wal-Mart, stepping out of the aisles like a ghost from a childhood dream. Grown up but still somehow the same as ever, in her winged eyeliner and shrewd eyes, she had paused at the sale rack and Lynda had said – “Althea? Is that you?”

That Althea had spoken to her, remembered her, and extended her casual invitation to basement Friday nights? Incredible enough. But that she had come back across town with Lynda, like it was the easiest thing in the world, to supervise the slicing and stitching of shirts? That whole day seemed unreal to her now. In the sunlight that poured through the carport, Althea had threaded a needle with her beautiful but clumsy hands, talking about music, making the air shine with her laughter. She held a shirt up to the light. Scissors flashed in her grip. For months, Lynda had been raking through the glitter and kohl, trying to find that Althea again.

What had she come here for if not to catch Althea’s attention? What was the point of any of this if she gave up what little gain she’d made now?

“What about the trash can?” Lynda said.

Althea peered down the curve of the wall and spotted the trash can, one of the vaguely coffin shaped kind with the ashtray on top. Teeth flashed under her shiny dark lips. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s try that.”

With the can tipped over on its side, Lynda was almost able to stand on it and touch the top of the wall. She boosted up Althea, who huffed and puffed and pulled herself up onto the flat top of the wall, and then pulled Lynda, who was lighter, up off the trash can after her. From the top of the wall the whole stadium was bathed in lavender light, pulsing and flashing. They lay there for a moment, panting into their elbows, as the whine of the music plunged right through them and dripped down onto the street on the other side. The stage was set with what looked like enormous crystals, maybe carved ice, jutting up into the light. Whoever was on stage was howling into a microphone, not without some melody but with—Lynda couldn’t think of a better way to say it—a brutal kind of mourning. Beside her, Althea sucked in a sudden breath.

“Son of a bitch,” Althea said, and the same time that a man’s voice from the other side of the wall called, “Hey, is somebody—”

“Jump,” Althea whispered, and then she vaulted down onto the grass, landing in a crouch.

Lynda broke out in a cold sweat, hesitating for a moment too long between two bad alternatives, thinking of her ankles and her ribs, and then finally rolled off after Althea just as the first beam of a flashlight passed through the darkness beside her. Her wrists screamed as they hit the ground. Her boots broke right through the soft turf.

“How are we going to get back out?” she wheezed.

Althea was already straightening up, brushing off her dirty hands on her jeans. “Same as everyone else,” she said. “Through the door.”

“But the bouncer—”

“We’ll just leave with the crowd. No problem.” She had turned her attention on the stage, to the howling performer, her eyes narrow with interest. “I feel like I recognize him,” she said. “Let’s get a closer look.”

Hadn’t the bouncer said the venue was full? The crowd seemed awfully small to Lynda, who had expected a production big enough to account for ice sculptures and a light show to attract at least a couple hundred. It seemed like it was just the enormous thrashing mosh pit, and whoever was up in that box they’d erected over it. She’d never seen anything like it. Opera houses she’d seen, sure, with viewing boxes. Actual sports stadiums too. But never anything quite like this.

“He kind of looks like Nathan,” Althea said. She was squinting down at the stage, trying to block the strobe lights with her hand. “You wouldn’t know Nathan, he stopped coming around before you got involved. Craig was sure he was about a year away from signing on with somebody, he had this killer EP he’d produced himself. Some of the guys think he just ditched us for the LA scene but I’m sure he didn’t, he wouldn’t have gone without saying anything—”

As they circled the hill above the mosh, Lynda looked down into the heaving crowd and drew her arms up around herself, unnerved and unhappy and unsure why. Something about the figures below felt wrong, like furniture in a familiar house all moved slightly to the left, like the way the legs of a spider move.

“He would have at least told me,” Althea said, “he never would have left without telling me.”

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be here,” Lynda whispered, dashing to catch up from where she’d lagged behind.

“Did you think we jumped the fence for our health?” Althea said. “Come on, there’s a space in front of that thing. We can get a good look from there.”

The spectator’s box glinted up at them, a pavilion of curtains and shadowy bodies mounted on strata just high enough to put it at the same height as the stage. It hovered over the sea of frothing bodies like a pirogue floating over the bayou.

“Indie artists are so flaky,” Althea muttered, “I don’t know what it is about them, one day they’re vaping into a paper bag in your parent’s basement and the next day they’re just gone! No calls, no texts, not so much as a hey thank you for the mix CD I really liked the folk metal.”

As the hill dipped down into the bottom of the stadium, a hundred upraised, grasping hands lay at Lynda’s feet. She watched them, blue and purple in the relentless alien light, pumping their fists in time to a catastrophic breakdown. Some of their fingers seemed mashed and flattened, boneless against the dark. Digits seemed to flop from their knuckles. Lynda did not want to go down into that mass.

“Must be a private event,” Althea said, still shading her eyes as she peered through the gloom to the pavilion. “Probably some bougie wanna-be rockers with cash to burn. What do you think would happen if I just walked right in there? I could probably jump from the edge of this hill. Do you think they’d notice?”

“Althea,” Lynda said, “I don’t like this. I think we should go.”

“Where are you gonna go?” Althea said. “Bouncer’s still out there.”

“Couldn’t we just,” Lynda said, “wait in the girl’s room until it’s over?”

“Yeah, that’s where I wanna spend my Friday night, in a trashed bathroom ten feet away from the actual show. Christ Lynda, it’s like fifth grade all over again. Well I’m not missing out on the party because you’re afraid of a ten dollar Target ouija board this time, so you can stay or you can make a break for it, but you’re on your own.”

Lynda rapidly blinked away any water her eyes before it could think of becoming tears. It was fine, it was nothing to cry about, it was just—Althea being Althea. She didn’t mean to be hurtful. It was just these new contact lenses irritating her eyes, that’s what she would say…

“That is Nathan!” Althea shouted, grabbing a fist full of Lynda’s shirt all at once and shaking her. “That rat! He got signed and he didn’t tell me!”

Lynda found herself being dragged forward by the collar, the hasty stitches down her sides popping and tearing against the force of it. As she stumbled down the hill, her feet seemed to touch the ground so little that it felt as if she was flying, or falling. They descended, hair whipping out behind them, and Lynda thought for a moment that she met the eye of someone inside the pavilion—for a crystalline moment, a pair of eyes almost glowing with the lights from the stage, narrowed on her. And then they were down in the pit, with the rest of the crowd, looking up at Nathan’s sunken face. It was hard to see what Althea found so interesting in him; his skin was drawn tight around his bones like paper around a frame, his knuckles clutching the microphone seemed like the segments of some sickly worm. Althea shrieked and waved up at him, doing her best to be heard over the deafening noise, but Lynda drew back from the stage.

There was no security in sight. Bodies bumped and thumped into each other, never quite crossing the invisible line between the front row and the bottom of the stage. There was no gate. As Lynda turned back to find someone in the crowd who might stop and explain it to her, she found herself face to face with a man caught in the frothing, wide-eyed throes of an overdose, his eyes fixed on the stage above as he was bounced from shoulder to shoulder in the fray. He never fell. He only continued to surge forward and stagger back, blue in the face and white at the lips, his eyes as glassy as a corpse’s, his hands reaching up, up—

Lynda tore out of Althea’s grip, almost clawing at the grass in her hurry to get up the hill again, like a child so frightened to climb the dark staircase that she went on all fours. She collapsed partway up, remembering Althea too late. She couldn’t go back. She couldn’t go forward. She scrambled up onto her back and drew her knees up to her chest, watching the crowd thrash below her in numb dread. Who were they? What were they? In the flashing darkness she could just make out one jawless horror, skin blown back and glittering sticky with what had to be blood. At their head Althea was still shouting at the stage, jumping in time to the music as it coughed and howled. There was no rest for the band between melodies. They plunged forward without a pause for breath, or water, or tuning.

A persistent flash of motion at the edge of Lynda’s vision drew her finally away from the macabre scene before her. Inside the pavilion—now almost level with her again—a figure was beckoning her forward. They gestured to the gap between the hill and the banister, miming something like a leap across the gap. Their beautiful high cheekbones and darkly shadowed eyes could have been male or female or anything in-between, but their expression was like the sharp interest of a child watching an insect, fingers already green with the guts of previous playmates. Lynda looked from the stage, to Althea bobbing furiously in the ghastly crowd, and finally back to the pavilion. What had shaken Lynda down to her gut, Althea hadn’t even noticed. Right now, Lynda knew from dismal experience, she was a buzzing fly at the edge of Althea’s vision. Her eye was always fixed on the next big thing, and tonight that thing was Nathan. Maybe if Lynda knew something, maybe if Lynda could bring her something bigger and juicier than Nathan, she could lure Althea up away from that damn stage. What other option was there? Lynda climbed to her feet and, with a breath so deep her chest ached, took a running leap at the edge of the pavilion.

The edge of the banister punched the wind out of her chest. As she scrabbled to pull herself over, eyes watering, the beautiful stranger only watched with delight. Lynda slid to the floor of the pavilion, panting, and looked for the first time at the inside of the spectator’s box. There were maybe a dozen people lounging across the array of furniture, drinking something pale and bubbly from crystal flutes. The ones nearest her all watched surreptitiously from the corners of their eyes.

“Look at you,” said the one who had beckoned her over the gap, showing a set of pearly shark-tipped teeth. “I don’t believe you were invited to the show.”

Lynda pushed herself up, a hand on the banister. “Sorry,” she said, “it was Althea’s idea. Sorry. We didn’t realize it was a private event. Is this, like, somebody’s sweet sixteen?”

But even as she said it, she knew that couldn’t be right. What kind of birthday party was full of scores of dying metal heads? The stranger wore a jacket that was something like a military dress uniform, glinting with silver buttons, too sharp and clean to be entirely punk. They were all like that up here, sharp and clean and whole and strange, none of them a day over thirty or an hour under eighteen. One, with her long hair pulled back like shining raven’s wings, lifted her hand and took a drink from a passing tray without ever looking away from Lynda.

She swallowed. “I’m Lynda, with a ‘Y’,” she said, as she always did, face hot with embarrassment. She was aware that no amount of stylish ‘Y’s could make her name sound any less like an advertisement for mom-jeans. She knew that, and she still insisted on doing it, the same as she’d done since she’d first introduced herself to Althea a decade ago, lying to feel a little closer, a little cooler. The day they met, Althea had already been a kind of royalty, with her fairy tale name and her endless curls. A fifth grade lie she’d lived ever since. By the time Althea left, everything that had been Linda Dacule was lost in the world of the false “Y” forever.

“Hello, Lynda with a ‘Y’,” the stranger said. “You can call me Robin Goodfellow. What do you think of the show?”

She glanced back down at the pit, but only for a moment. She couldn’t bear to look for any longer. “What’s wrong with them?” she asked. “They should be in so much pain. Some of them look like they’d keel right over if everyone else stopped shoving them around.”

Robin leaned over the banister, flashing eyes fixed on the world below. “I think rock’n roll is immortal, don’t you?” they said. “It’s a religion. It’s got its pantheon of saints, its Kurt Cobains and its Janice Joplins. If you live fast and die young, you can go on forever. Your friend gets it.”

Lynda followed their gaze, trying to spot whatever they were looking at, but all she could make out was the 27CLUB emblazoned across the drum set on stage. She shifted uncomfortably against the banister. “I’m sorry?” she said.

“Your friend,” Robin said. “She’s one of those girls who’s going places. Maybe not everyone likes her, but she’s always welcome. She’s bright, but not too bright. When she walks into the room, everyone makes a little more room for her.”

“Uh,” Lynda said. “She’s always been like that.”

At the front of the crowd, Althea had stopped shouting for Nathan’s attention. Now her hands reached up, as if in supplication, and she surged with the same urgent need as the rest of the crowd. Standing where she was at the head of them all, it was almost as if they were following her, riding her tide against the unforgiving shore. Out of all of them, she was the only one perfectly whole, a queen among the legions.

“Out by twenty-five, dead or alive,” Robin remarked.

Lynda looked down at the crowd. There was something too perfect about their synchronization, something inhuman in the rhythm of their surge. She was certain that if she could see Althea’s eyes now, they would be as black and hollow as Nathan’s.

“Why don’t I feel it?” she said. “What’s so special about me?”

“Special?” Robin repeated, delighted. “There’s nothing special about you! You’re absolutely ordinary. Designated driver Lynda. Boring, supportive, ordinary Lynda. That’s why you can’t feel what she feels. She’s a star, and you’re just a stage hand!”

Lynda went red in the face, fixing her furious stare at her boots. Surely she was more than that. No matter how she shook out her memory, she could find nothing else but dutiful offering after dutiful offering, a pair of clapping hands, a set of keys—a no one, an empty space. Even when they were children, Lynda had had trouble keeping Althea’s attention. The world was so big, and Althea wanted all of it. When they were thirteen, the world had finally won the war for Althea’s love. Lynda had watched the car door close on Althea and the boy with the brand new driver’s permit, and even then she had known that it was ending.

“We should,” Lynda said, “we should go. Sorry for crashing your party.”

“She won’t go with you,” Robin said. “You can try, if you want. She won’t, though.”

“Why not?” Lynda said.

“There’s nowhere to go from here,” Robin said. “This is the cutting edge, Lynda with a ‘Y’. The bleeding edge. Even if you managed to drag her home, she’d only dream of us.”

“She can dream all she wants,” Lynda said, “but we’re going.”

“Pearls before swine,” Robin said, clicking their tongue. “Do you have any idea how many hundreds of thousands of kids are dying to join this party?”

“It doesn’t seem like so many,” Lynda said, looking pointedly down at the pit.

“Well not everybody has what it takes,” Robin said, with a shrug. “You certainly don’t.”

Lynda tightened her fists.

“Oh, no, don’t be angry. Why don’t you stay a while,” Robin said, soothing now, voice softening. “Have a drink with us. Watch the show. You’ll have something interesting to talk about when you go home, won’t you? And with Althea gone, people will be looking for someone interesting to talk to. You know you don’t have to be a stage hand all your life, Lynda with a ‘Y’. Have a drink with us.”

As smoothly as a clockwork scene, a server passed just beyond them. Robin reached out, lifting a single glass of champagne from the silver platter as it went. Not a drop spilled in their hand. They held it out to her, bubbles glowing in its pale depths.

“Besides,” Robin added, “we both know you’re too afraid to go back down there. You can’t even walk home in the dark alone. You slept with the closet light on until you were sixteen. That’s awfully old for such things.”

Lynda paused with her hand half way to the offered glass, shaken. What—what had she been doing? She snatched back her hand and retreated.

“Thank you for having us,” she said, heels sliding across the floor. “Enjoy the rest of your party.”

“She won’t thank you for it!” Robin called after her. “She won’t love you for it! How could anyone ever care for an ordinary thing like you?”

Lynda paused, one foot on the banister. She would have liked to turn and say, no, that was a lie. But the truth was, she didn’t know. She was afraid that Robin was right. She was afraid of everything that lay below her, the clawing pit and the howling singers and Althea’s dead black eyes. With another deep breath, Lynda climbed over the banister and leapt down to the slope of the hill. I am afraid, she thought, but if I just move fast enough—it’s like the stairs, you have to climb them so fast that there’s no time to think about it. You have to run.

Lynda flew down the hill, down past the grasping hands of the pit, past the breakers that surged towards her, down to where Althea was. She battered away scores of reaching arms. “Althea,” she gasped, “we have to go, we have to—”

The moment she put her hand on Althea’s shoulder, the crowd broke over her. Their bloodied and boneless and grasping hands closed around her, dragging her away from Althea, who was deaf to everything but the stage. Stitches pulled and snapped down the sides of Lynda’s butchered Wal-Mart shirt. Hands smeared their gore across her skin, endless fingers slimy with sweat, nails tacky with blood. Hairs all down her arms prickled under the chill ooze. She was afraid to try and pry them all off—if she let go of Althea, she was certain they would drag her back under before she could peel herself free.

“Althea!” she shouted, “listen to me, you know me!”

Althea didn’t so much as flinch. A heavy hand clutched at Lynda’s neck, fingers digging into her windpipe. She coughed.

“Thea!” she said. “Look at me! God damn it, will you look at me for once in your life!”

Althea reached for the stage, her fingers grasping at the limelight, her eyes reflecting back the glittering darkness. She was gone, she was as surely gone as she had been when Chase Conner looked at her first the first time in eighth grade, with his new learner’s permit and his acoustic guitar, and his mysterious high school savvy. Lynda had never been enough to hold her back. There was a gulf of a hundred unanswered texts between them, more than half a decade of silence, and all the little lies that Lynda had built this bridge to her out of, starting with the first paltry “Y”. She didn’t even like folk metal! But she had pretended to, for an excuse to sit next to Althea on Friday nights in Craig’s basement, picking through the glittering queen to find shards of the girl beneath. The girl who couldn’t hold a needle properly, who sat in the evening for hours and laughed at her own stitches, that girl could—that girl might—

“Why is nothing ever enough?” Her fingers slipped over Althea’s shoulder, fear and sweat threatening to tear them free. “Why am I never enough?”

Tears burned her eyes as she dug her nails into Althea’s arm. She’d thought that serendipitous day in the carport meant something, that it was the start of something, but maybe she had only been kidding herself. Maybe there had never been anything to resurrect.

“Just tell me you want to stay!” Lynda shouted. “Thea, if you tell me you want to stay I’ll let go! Just say something to me, anything! I loved you, I loved you and I love you and if you didn’t love me then that’s fine, but at least have the decency to tell me goodbye!”

There was a glint of light on Althea’s cheek. It startled Lynda. Her hand flinched open, just for a moment, but long enough for the clawing of the crowd to drag her back, their ruined but relentless fingers closing over her shoulders, drawing her back into the froth and ooze of bodies frozen as if forever in the moment of their deaths. She reached—her sweating fingers slipped—and Althea caught her, hand tight around wrist. Althea’s face was wet as she pulled, locking her grip and reeling Lynda back out of the crowd, over the invisible line that kept the pit at bay. Lynda fell into her arms as she finally broke free. They stumbled back against the edge of the stage, where the thud of the drums rumbled straight through their bodies. Althea said something, weak and lost in the wash of the music. In front of them, the pit threw themselves against that invisible edge endlessly, maybe reaching for the two of them, maybe just reaching—

Althea took hold of Lynda and ran. They crested the hill, passed the pavilion full of glittering, unblinking eyes, flew past the empty merch stand, and crashed into the ticketing area. Behind the booth, the bouncer turned his blank sunglasses to face them.

Lynda froze on the threshold, with the howl of the stage behind her and the icy silence of the ticketing ahead. The bouncer sat perfectly still. His face was expressionless. Althea pulled her friend close against her side and walked slowly past the booth. He followed them like an owl, his head slowly turning, as if his eyes were pinned in place behind those glasses.

“Goodnight,” Lynda whispered to him, fixing straight ahead until she couldn’t see him anymore. She did not look back.

The street outside was silent and dark. Not even the relentless thump of the drums could be heard through the wall, which had nearly vibrated before. Her ears rang with the deafening quiet. At her heel, a playbill from last week’s show skittered over the concrete, caught in the wind. She shivered, wondering if the bouncer was still watching them but too terrified to check.

“What was that,” Althea said, sounding as dry-mouthed and miserable as if she was caught in a brutal hangover. “What the hell was that.”

Lynda hesitated. “I don’t think it’s a place many people leave,” she said. “They wanted you to stay.”

“Oh,” Althea said, screwing up her face. Even sweaty and miserable and scowling, there was still something about her. “They were singing about diamonds,” she said, rubbing ineffectually at her smeared cheek. “And dry flowers—yellow petals—the sound of drowning—”

“Let’s get you home,” Lynda said, scanning the parking lot for a sign of her car. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere else.”

“It was so goddamn sad,” Althea mumbled. For a moment, her cheek rested against Lynda’s shoulder. “They were singing it for me. I could see Nathan’s eyes…”

Althea reached up clumsily, fingers bumping the skin below Lynda’s eye. Lynda froze.

“You used to wear glasses,” Althea said. “Why’d you stop wearing glasses?”

Lynda felt herself soften, carefully closing her hand around Althea’s. “You said they were lame.”

Althea made a sound half like a snort and slumped against her side. Her flannel jacket flapped in the wind, the only sound on a silent street. “Did I say that?”

“Two weeks ago,” Lynda said. “In the kitchen. You poured me a vodka cranberry.”

Althea pulled back her fingers, gentle as the flutter of an insect’s wings. Her nails glinted as golden as her hair, a halo of mussed curls against the street light. “Damn,” she said. “Why the hell did I say that.”

She shook her head. The playbill skittered away from their tired feet, twisted in the wind, and melted away into the night.

“I heard your voice,” she said, “in the song. Yellow petals—the loneliest thing I ever heard—and then I heard your voice.”

#original fiction

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takecareofyourblessings · 5 years

Text

Without Comment

The S2 is the so-called Avenue of the Presidents bus because its route is the handsome and seductive 16th Street corridor. The S2 travels from downtown Pennsylvania Avenue to Silver Spring, Maryland, a suburban town that borders D.C. at its northern edge.

The ridership of the S2 is black, white, and variously ethnic. Hispanics, West Africans, and Caribbean passengers, as well as other nationals, diversify the sophisticated commuter ambiance. Newspapers, books, and quiet conversations are standard as the S2 speeds its way to Adams Morgan, Mt. Pleasant, the gold Coast, the end of the line, and back again.

Sixteenth Street-- lined with embassies, churches, respectable homes, and majestic trees swaying overhead from Lafayette Park to Silver Spring--this undulating, rolling hill climbs and descends with deceptive grace. At its side, in the middle of a Black gay ghetto called Homo heights, sits the once glorious, mystical park called Malcolm X by Black cultural nationalists, although its official name is Meridian Hill. At dusk it becomes a Black gay cruising ground, while during the day it serves as one of th city’s open air drug markets.

Vandalism and graffiti now mar its classic beauty like brutal knife wounds that have become keloids. The shrubbery has been hacked down in an effort to prevent crimes that still occur. The once green grounds are bald and littered with used condoms and assorted trash. Decay and decline exist here. Gloom and danger are ever present in the piss-stained air, air that is often thick with marijuana smoke and always filled with the hawker’s cry of drug dealers. And although children romp and wrestle on these grounds, and soccer players kick the game ball back and forth, the men appear who cannot contain their loneliness till dusk. They are not zombies. Their eyes are luminous with enormous, living hungers, but no one seems to notice except those of their kind. FOr Black gay men, this park, elegantly appointed with gushing fountains, grand stairways, moonlit plazas, and statues of Dante and Joan of Arc--for Black men seeking the kisses of one another, Malcolm X/Meridian Hill Park is now nothing more than a tomb of sorrow.

I remember taking the S2 home one evening, a Sunday, in fact. I had taken the X2 from H Street, N.E. to 14th and H downtown, where I transferred and waited for the S. From the corner of 14th and H you can view the warscape of AIDS and the remains of the casual sex zones reduced to rubble by the aggressive development of downtown. It is interesting to observe now, postmodern office buildings rise on soil where the seed of gay men was once spilled with reckless abandon.

Ten years ago this corner was a sexual crossroads. On either side of 14th Street, from H to I, there once stood thriving porn shops, movie galleries, and nude dance clubs. A block east of 14th, on 13th Street, the raunchy Black gay club, the Brass Rail, was bulging out of its jockstrap. Drag queens ruled, B-boys chased giddy government workers, fast-talking hustlers worked the floor, while sugar daddies panted for attention in the shadows, offering free drinks and money to any friendly trade. Everybody was seeking a sex machine. White folks were sneaking in for their “Black-dick-fix.” Sometimes the dose was fatal:Robbery. Murder. The pulsing music always throbbed like an insatiate erection.

A block north of the Brass Rail, Franklin Park was a soft cruise spot primarily because it borders K Street, 14th and 13th Streets offering too much visibility for most. But east of its lower end, bordering I Street, on the 13th Street corner, stood the notorious Curiosity Bookshop, complete the back room, movie booths, garish red lights, gusts of heavy breathing, and the popping noise of greased dicks pumping in and out of tight holes. The creaking floorboards were aging with semen and sighs. Every now and then you’d hear a man hiss, “Work that pussy, bitch,” as clusters of panting men gathered to watch an ass being fucked.

At the most historic spot downtown, where, on the corner of 14th and H, one could watch the parade of flesh all summer long, the quest for the perfect abuse was keen. Now the area is almost desolate of nightlife, the players scattered, the seekers scared to venture out.

I wait for my bus. Shortly before it arrives, two Black men cruise by. They appear to be in their thirties-forties. The shorter, stockier, fair-skinned, clean-shaven Homeboy has his arm thrown around the shoulders of the slightly taller, slender, darker daddy. The tall man is obviously older, mustached, and somewhat attractive. Homeboy carries a hustler’s air about him. They swagger by, slightly drunk and horny. I am surprised when a few stops later they board the bus and sit at the back.

The bus crosses K Street and continues up 16th without incident. The seats fill quickly. By the time we cross P Street standing room is all that’s available. A murmur begins to rise from the back of the bus. It explodes into a startling confrontation.

“You my bitch!”

“No! Uh Uh. We are bitches!”

“No! You listen here. I ain’t wearing lipstick, you are! I ain’t no bitch! I fucked you! You my bitch!”

This argument continues without resolution until we arrive at 16th and U Streets. The bus is packed with passengers, and as we approach the stop, I see ten more waiting to board. Just as the first person at the stop steps aboard, a strident, hysterical voice cuts loose from the back:

“I’m a 45-year-old-Black-gay-man who en-joys taking dick in his rectum!” SNAP! “I’[m not your bitch!” SNAP! “Your bitch is at home with your kids!” SNAP! SNAP!

We are entering the fifth dimension of our sexual consciousness. THe ride is rough. There is no jelly for this. The driver is trying to call the police on the bus phone. No one has said anything. No one else attempts to board.

The air is charged with tensions unleashed from an ancient box of sexual secrets. The older man abruptly leaves by the back door. Homeboy follows. They have violent words outside. The children sitting at the front are wide-eyed and speechless. All the homosexuals on the bus have frozen. So have I. The driver is frantically calling the police. The older man suddenly pushes aborad wielding a Flash Pass with Homeboy in hot pursuit. The driver drops the phone and jumps between them. Homeboy pulls out a knife and waves it toward his companion.

“You gonna pay for this dick!” he sneers.

“I ain’t paying for that tame shit!”

The children’s heads snap back and forth during the ensuing shouting match as though they are watching a Ping Pong tournament and not two grown Black men giving high drama. In a stern voice the driver orders Homeboy to leave the bus. He backs down the steps, waving his blade, threatening to catch the Black gay man on the street and make him pay dearly for the dick he got. Homeboy is last seen stalking east on U Street with his glinting knife clenched in hand.

The bus pulls off and begins to climb 16th Street. Every homosexual on the bus is still frozen. So am I. The police never arrived. The children are quiet for the reminder of their journeys. So am I. Occasionally, a very nervous, a very terrified schoolboy laughs out loud then subsides into silence. The 45-year-old-Black-gay-man who enjoys taking dick in his rectum rides the rest of the way without further incident. At the back of the bus he sits--his legs crossed at the knee.

#Essex Hemphill #black poetry #ceremonies #takecareofyourblessings

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