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mrs-gucci · 3 years

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Anything Goes {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

anonymous (half of their request):

I think the world needs a Maurizio x Studio 54 fic 👀

author’s notes: hello, hello! YES, I think we need this...and now we have it! thanks for sending it in <3 I really enjoyed researching a bit and whipping up this piece! a special thanks to @babbushka for being the resident Studio 54 expert! Mauri isn’t as ‘soft’ here as he is when I write him usually, but I honestly loved exploring this sort of ‘wild side’.

warnings: smut. porn with some plot. masquerade. I think Studio 54 is a warning of its own. dancing. grinding. p in v. unprotected sex. fluff at the end.

(possible) tw’s: some alcohol consumption. cigarette smoking (canon for character). (!!) implied infidelity/extramarital sex. public sex. (!!)

word count: 2.46k

terms to know

Bellissima means ‘beautiful’ in Italian (an affectionate nickname). Dio means ‘God’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cristo means ‘Christ’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cazzo means ‘fuck’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece).

maurizio’s taglist peeps! @icarusinthesea @eagerforhoney my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist)

Muffled tunes bump from the concrete walls as you and your small group of friends walk past the blocks-long line. You flash your Gucci company ID to the bouncer, who lets you in immediately, getting a few envious mutters and groans from the line-goers.

Studio 54 is the place to be these days and luckily for you, working at the House of Gucci’s New York branch gets you premiere access, since the CEO is a huge investor in the club.

Tonight’s a masquerade theme, so all patrons are wearing a variety of different masks, from whole-face masks to only eye masks. But, each was very much their own, a sea of colors and sequins and feathers as their wearers stride about.

You’re clad in a risqué disco getup, wearing a metallic silver tube top and matching skirt with some small heels that you’re sure you’ll tire of rather quickly. But Studio 54, from what you’ve heard, is all about the looks, the glitz and the glamour. Your eye mask is made to match tonight’s look as well as resemble cat-eye glasses, black with small silver wings coming off the pointed edges.

Your winter coat is checked and then you head up to the dance floor, music getting louder and louder as you ascend the staircase. Your breasts bounce a bit with each step, nipples peering out from beneath the silver fabric. Studio 54 is known for its ‘anything goes’ rule, and you fully intend on taking advantage of that freedom tonight.

It’s jam-packed, just as you’d expected it to be, sweaty bodies dancing and grinding together in a large group on the floor. The stale air is hazy with cigarette smoke, smells of sex and drugs linger all throughout the thick, humid air. Your senses are overwhelmed while at the same time aroused by the sights and smells of Studio 54.

While your friends head over to the bar to grab drinks, you head right onto the dance floor, beginning your night of wild, passionate fun. A few guys come and grind with you for a few minutes or so, but they leave shortly after. Your eyes peer through the holes in your mask, lingering over the talent standing at the sides of the floor, scouting and waiting to devour their scantily-clad prey.

Your gaze pauses on a man leaning against one of the pillars, lighting up a cigarette. He looks in stark contrast to all other club-goers who sport the metallic, the feathers, the sequins, the avant-garde. He’s so abnormally normal with his crisp, classy 007-type tuxedo. His chestnut brown hair drapes down to just below the brilliant white collar of his button-up, neatly moussed and styled. He’s disguised by a bright white half-face mask, making him appear almost ghoulish when paired with his handsomely pale skin.

His eyes suddenly dart over to meet yours and your cheeks heat up as you look away, biting your lip softly. He smirks, taking a drag off his cigarette before heading over to the bar. He’s going to need some courage juice in him before he approaches you.

The night wears on and you start to get a bit discouraged. You’re still having fun, of course, you just wish that it was going more according to your fantasy and imagination. Perhaps you should head to another club, see if you fare better there.

Deciding in favor of checking out other hotspots in the area, you begin to make your way off to the side back towards the door. Suddenly, a set of large, strong hands slide onto your waist and pulls you back, forcing you to collide with a large body. The scent of expensive cigarettes enveloping you as he steps up behind you and goosebumps instantaneously erupt down your arms as the tall man leans down, lips now at your ear.

“Ciao, bellissima.” His voice is slightly husky and thick with Italian origin, alcoholic breath hot on your skin. “The party’s out here on the floor, not down at coat check.”

You chuckle. “It seems that no one wants to party with me for more than five minutes tonight. I was gonna try my luck at another club.”

He pulls you back a bit further against him.

“Well then, it’s lucky I caught you. I’d be just kicking myself if I missed the chance to dance with a beauty like you.”

“I think you overestimate my talents, sir.” You’re wondering if this is a dream, something to cope with the real-life disappointment of the night.

The man chuckles, running his nose along the side of your neck and inhaling your sweet perfume. “And I think you underestimate your talents, miss.”

A slower, more sensual song begins to play through the speakers and you reach up to wrap your hand around the back of your unknown dance partner’s neck, keeping him down near your head.

“Let’s find out who’s right, then, shall we?”

His grin is obvious, even though you can’t see him. “Yes, let’s.”

You start by leaning back against him, simply feeling out the slow and steady rhythm of the beat. You’ve never felt so relaxed, so carefree before and it feels really, really nice. He drops his hands from your hips, but sways along with you, trying to keep his lips away from your up-done hair.

He ends up having a few of your hairs catch on his plush lips a few minutes later, causing him to have to try spitting them out subtly and quietly.

It doesn’t work.

You laugh softly and he blushes, chuckling awkwardly along with you. “Sorry about that. You must’ve caught some of my flyaways.”

“Yes, it seems that way. I feel guilty for ruining the mood, though.” His nose nudges at your temple, hands coming back up to hold your hips as he senses your motions grow a bit quicker.

“Don’t. I’m sure we can manage to bring it back to what we had before. In fact, I think we can make it even better.”

Your hips begin to circle back against him at a more aggressive rate of speed, moving the fabric of his dress slacks all over his hardening crotch. His breath is shaky as it comes out through his nose, fingers digging a bit tighter into the flesh of your hips.

The humid air practically suffocates the two of you as the other patrons dance all around, causing a slick sheen to quickly cover your skin, the roots of your hair soaking through steadily. Your fingers gently massage his scalp as his lips move and suck red marks into your tender skin that’ll surely turn purple by the end of the night.

Soon, he begins experimentally rolling his pelvis in time with your motions, grunting against your neck at the sensations this new move is creating. He’s almost fully hard beneath his suit slacks by now, already planning out how he’s gonna get with you tonight. Patrizia doesn’t have to know about this.

“So, are you ever gonna let me see you, mystery man?” You ask, chuckling.

He blushes beneath the mask. He’s extremely hesitant to let you see him, an instinct born of being in the spotlight since youth. But then he remembers, he’s in America and he has a mask on.

His hands pull away from you and a small kiss placed on your exposed shoulder. “Look upon me, then, bellissima.”

Suddenly gripped with nerves, you turn around slowly and look up. He’s handsome; the epitome of men, warm brown hair and endearing ocean blue eyes. His gazes roam your masked appearance in a similar manner, relieved that you don’t seem to recognize him. A sudden feeling of familiarity washes over you as your eyes meet once more.

“Your eyes, your gaze...they’re familiar to me. Is there a chance we’ve crossed paths before?”

His nostrils flare in fear, eyes going wide for a moment. A soft, cautious breath leaves his lips and he shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s not likely. I’ve been told I have one of those faces, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. That’s probably it.” You step back up to him, hands smoothing over his broad chest. “Now, where were we?”

“Hmm, I think it was...” Maurizio smirks, leaning down so that his lips hover just above yours. “Right about here, if I recall correctly.”

Pressing yourself up on your toes, you connect your lips to his just as the last of his sentence passes through his velvety pink lips. Your arms snake up around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the rich brown locks. They certainly won’t be so neatly styled when you’re finished with him tonight, that much you’re sure of.

He smiles against your lips, stepping up a bit closer to you, body now pressing right up against yours. The two of you remain that way until he pulls away softly, breathing slightly heavy as his eyes look over your face.

“Can I take you upstairs? To the uh, balcony, perhaps?”

Oh, you’ve heard plenty of things about the balcony and the heat has already begun to pool in your loins. You nod, a small but devious grin stretching across your face.

“Absolutely. Lead the way, handsome.”

The two of you make your way towards the staircase, dodging and weaving through the crowds of dancing drag queens, salacious skaters, carefree celebrities and various other perky patrons.

“Do I get to learn your name before we reach the balcony?”

His breath hitches. “Mauri, you can call me Mauri.”

Your brows furrow slightly. You’ve never heard a name like that before, but maybe it’s some kind of nickname.

“Mauri, got it. I’m Y/N.”

Y/N. A beautiful name, fit for a beautiful woman.

He smiles and nods, guiding you up to the balcony. When you arrive, there are already plenty of people inhabiting the space, all in various stages of either sex, undress or getting high.

This is definitely where a majority of the sex smell downstairs is originating from.

Mauri keeps his head tilted downwards and you swear you can see a bit of a blush on his cheeks as he takes you over to a relatively secluded corner. He undoes his belt quickly, sloppily kissing you as he does so.

You gasp sharply into his mouth when he suddenly scoops you up and slams you against the wall, lips working your neck while his hands free his hardened arousal from where it’s trapped beneath the restrictive suit fabric.

Your skirt is promptly pushed up to rest on your hips, your panties are pushed to the side, and Mauri’s cock is sheathing itself inside you before you can even process it.

“Ohhh christ.”

His jaw slacks against your neck, eyes squeezing shut while his hot breath spreads over your taut skin. Goosebumps erupt where the invisible warmth falls. “Dio.”

He stays still for a moment, then buries his face into the crook of your neck before his hips begin to move. There’s nothing slow or intimate about what the two of you are doing, it’s carnal. It’s sloppy and rough, the sweat mingling especially where your skin is pressed against his.

The smell of sex that permeates around you only makes the whole experience that much more arousing. Your eyes looking around the room to see other couples getting off, shuddering and whining as you make eye contact with a young woman currently getting fucked on the ground. Your insides clench around him instinctively, earning you a small grunt while your hand takes hold of his silky brown locks.

“You’re tight, cristo, so hot and slick for my cock.”

Your head falls back against the wall with an audible clunk sound and you cringe in acute pain for a quick moment, but the pure lust and hunger flowing through you provides the adrenaline needed to ward off the pain. It’ll surely be sore come dawn, but really, you couldn’t care less at the moment.

“So big, Mauri, fucking me so good.”

Mauri fucks you harder, then, crooked teeth scraping against the taut flesh of your neck, panting softly. You reach down into the humid space between your bodies until your fingertips find the engorged bud nestled neath folds of delicate flesh.

A wet sound soon emerges from between your legs as your fingers swipe back and forth over your clit quickly, bringing yourself right up to the edge within only a minute or two.

He grunts into your neck, pace rapidly devolving into one that’s erratic and desperate, shaft pulsing under the tight grip of your insides. His breathing grows quick and shallow, hands pushing at your spread legs to push them further into a spread eagle position.

“Where do you want it?”

You moan along with his motions, pitch heightening slightly with each of his powerful thrusts. “Fuck, I--”

Suddenly, you’re thrown over the edge, a powerful orgasm hitting you like a truck. An avalanche of pleasure rolls over your body, nerves buzzing with warm feelings of release. Your hand wraps around the back of his head, lips near his ear to catch the chorus of whimpers, whines and little mewls that leave your lips.

“M-Mauri.”

His brows crease, knitting in the center of his forehead as he fucks you through it, finding it a nearly impossible feat to stave off his own climax, but he manages.

“Cazzo, I--wheredoyouwantit?” He’s barely holding on, now.

“Outside, a-anywhere.”

Balls pulling up, Mauri moans and pulls out quickly, just as the first thick rope of creamy release spatters onto your fleshy inner thighs. A long, shaky groan leaves his lips before he crashes them onto yours to muffle the rest of his sounds.

You move with him, lips liquid with his, fluid motions so effortless that you’d think the union was one entity. He pulls away from your lips slowly, then out of your tingling cunt, a smile on his face the whole way along.

“I apologize for the mess, bellissima.” He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the creamy liquid from your thighs before helping pull your skirt back down. “There we go.”

You offer him a small smile, biting your lip as the unsureness of what to do next takes over. After a moment, you clear your throat, chuckling softly.

“I’m not really sure what to do next, if I’m completely honest.”

“Me neither.” His cheeks, of what you can see of them behind the mask, turn a shade of pink. “How about I buy you a drink at the bar? That seems like a good place to start.”

Your lips instantly curve upwards into a smile and you offer him a soft nod.

“A drink would be great.”

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spxllcxstxr · 3 years

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Game On • J.P

(Gif not mine)

Writing Challenge: @lunalovecroft ‘s 2.7k Trope Writing Challenge! Congrats again! Everyone go check out their fantastic blog! Trope: Quidditch Rivals and Secret Dating

Summary: No one knows that rival captains, Potter and (Y/Ln), have been in a secret relationship for quite some time. Then, the Championship Game arrives.

Warnings: cursing, a small hint of steaminess (nothing big—it’s like a quick mention and that’s it), slight Wolfstar and Dorlene mention, mention of breakfast at the Great Hall, kissing, use of Ms when referring to the reader (only once), nonGryffindor!reader

Word Count: 2k

A.N: Kinda long winded but I actually like the dialogue for once??? Wow. Congrats again on 2.7k! Everyone go follow them because I get so happy seeing them on my dash ❤️ Hope you all enjoy and love you all ❤️

****

Your eyes snap open hours before they have to, your dorm still pitch black, the soft snores of your friends filling up the otherwise quiet space. The covers feel heavy and restricting on top of you, something you quickly remedy by kicking them clear off the mattress.

You swing your legs over the edge, feet meeting the cool wooden floor.

Rubbing your eyes, you glance over at the ornate clock on your nightstand. One in the morning. You sigh, your goal of getting a good night’s sleep before your important match in ruins.

Your skin crawls at the thought of the Championship Match only hours from now. The amount of blood, sweat, and tears you’ve shed in preparation for it is frankly quite concerning.

Unable to get back to sleep, you drag yourself out of bed, shoving your feet into plush slippers before slipping quietly out of your room. You’re forced to tiptoe around scattered books, most of them Quidditch related from last night.

There’s no way you’ll be getting back to sleep anytime soon, the anxiety of the morning’s match coursing through your veins. The nerves were the worst part of competitive Quidditch—after all these years you still couldn’t shake them.

Absentmindedly, you think about heading to the Kitchens, the warm and comfortable environment sounding like exactly what you need.

Late night visits to the Kitchens aren’t anything new, you and James often sneak out after curfew hidden underneath his Invisibility Cloak. Sitting in the far corner behind countless shelves and barrels was a frequent date for the two of you since it offered enough privacy from the rest of the castle.

The two of you could hold hands on the table, his thumb open to draw little figure eights between your knuckles. Your eyes could light up just looking at him without the fear of being called out. His lips could capture yours in a sweet or passionate kiss and no one would know.

The real and complete reason for keeping your relationship a secret was long since forgotten, but the general idea is still shared. It’s just easier being Quidditch rivals instead of being Quidditch rivals that snogged the second feet touched the ground. Neither of you were ever accused of going easy on the other during matches, and that’s how the two of you preferred it.

Plus, there was something romantic about sneaking around the castle and through secret passage ways pressed closely underneath his cloak. Stolen kisses in empty classrooms and quick shags in broom closets were fun when they weren’t inconvenient.

In the back of your mind you have an inkling that James might be huddled up in the usual spot as well, considering he has a match as well in a few hours.

You shuffle through the common room, a few third years spread out on the couch, sleeping atop their textbooks and notes. The fire crackles and pops lowly. A shiver runs down your spine as you step out into the corridor.

“Lumos!”

A murky blue light blooms from the tip of your wand, lighting up the dark corridor.

You shuffle across the stone, the occasional laugh or snore echoing throughout.

Filch isn’t an issue at this time of night, surprisingly the old care taker does get some sort of beauty sleep, though it does him no good, so you find yourself walking normally instead of carefully creeping around.

It doesn’t take long to get to the portrait of the bowl of fruit, faint giggles coming from the pear. You extend your arm to tickle the bottom of the pear, it’s giggles erupting even louder before morphing into an intricate brass doorknob.

Stepping through the threshold you’re immediately met with a blast of heat due to the large fireplace that practically takes up the wall to your right. Even though it’s the middle of the night, plates and goblets and utensils are clanking and crashing together, the pitter patter of house-elves darting around the area isn’t surprising at this point.

“Nox.”

The blue light fades and flickering orange takes over.

A small and pale grey figure rushes up to you, jittery like they’ve just consumed a gallon of coffee. One ear droops low enough where it’s almost dragging across the floor while the other is significantly shorter.

“Ms. (Y/Ln)!” The house-elf squeaks, wringing their lavender cloth between their fingers. “Mr. Potter is waiting for you!”

“Alright, Tilly.” You smile warmly at the elf. “Thank you.”

As you make your way to your usual spot in the back of the Kitchens, you hear Tilly bound back over to the counters, joining the many other house-elves that work down here.

Behind stacks of old crates and barrels, there’s an old and decrepit picnic table, obscured from the rest of the room. Each time you and James show up you’re surprised the house-elves haven’t chucked it into the large fire yet. It’s so rickety it’s practically only good for firewood.

And being the spot for the two of you to find refuge in.

James is sitting with his back against the wall, legs outstretched across the bench just like you suspected. He’s lazily tracing a finger around the lip of his steaming mug, hazel eyes lost in thought. From your spot you can see his teeth toying with his bottom lip.

“You ok Jamie?” You ask softly, trying not to startle him out of his thoughts.

His eyes flick up to yours before he fixes his glasses and runs a hand through his bedhead.

“Knew you’d join me eventually, love.” He sends over a wink, face lighting up.

“And you didn’t think to pick me up at my common room?” You playfully scoff, slotting yourself between his legs, face pressed into his chest.

The red fabric smells suspiciously like the Quidditch shed, like he got in some late night practice.

“Oh yes, because standing out in the cold corridors outside of your common room after curfew is much better than just waiting for you in the warm Kitchens.” James’ chin rests in the top of your head, his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

“Blimey, chivalry really is dead.”

“Y’know, you could’ve waited outside the Gryffindor Tower for me.” James points out, chuckling at your complaint.

“I’m sorry.” You gasp. “Who has the Invisibility Cloak, again?”

“You got here just fine, didn’t you, love?” He snorts, chest rumbling.

“Whatever.” You grumble, rolling your eyes in defeat.

James sighs, rubbing your side. “You ready for the morning?”

You hum noncommittally, the thought of tomorrow’s match swirling through your mind.

“Nervous, love?” His voice is soft and delicate against your temple.

“I mean, this is my last chance, Jamie.” You mumble into his chest. “And of course it’s against you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, (Y/n)?” James asks, concern laced within his voice.

“It’s just that you’re an amazing player and I’m—“

“A spectacular player as well.” He interjects. “I’ve seen you out there practicing. You’ve built a bloody good team this year. We’re on equal footing.”

“Yeah well, I’ve never beaten you before.” You huff lightly, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“So?” He questions. “That doesn’t mean anything. There’s a reason you’ve made it into the Championship match, (Y/n). Because you’re a fucking phenomenal Captain. And I’ll hex anyone that tells you otherwise.” You feel his fingers flex angrily against your waist.

“You’re so sweet.” You pick your head up slightly to face him, a pout tugging at your lips.

“Guess I should give you a good luck kiss now, considering we won’t have time in the morning.” James’ hazel eyes shine in the flickering light while looking into your own.

“Does luck even last that long?” You bring your fingers up to hover over his sharp jawline.

“Sadly, love, we’ll have to test that.” He sighs.

You bring your lips to meet his, your fatigue making it a bit sloppier than it should’ve been. He nips at your lips, pulling you closer to his chest momentarily before pulling away.

You whine slightly at the loss of warmth.

“Gotta save some of that luck for myself, love. Can’t just let you win.” He smirks, lips grazing your hairline.

The two of you end up sitting there for another hour or so, listening to the fire crackling and the house-elves rummage around. Eventually, he pulls you underneath his cloak and drops you back off at your common room, a quick peck pressed to your lips.

You manage to drift back off to sleep, dreaming of James rather than Quidditch.

When you pry your eyes open for the second time, the sun is actually filtering through your curtains and most of your dormmates are awake and shuffling around.

You tune them out the best you can, opting to go through your routine in whatever silence you can find.

Your routine is quite simple, you let your joints pop and muscles stretch, trying to shake yourself awake.

The rest of the castle seems to be alive with boisterous laughter and over the top festivities. Glancing around at the corridors and the Great Hall, you’re able to notice a pretty even split between red and gold and your own house colors.

This was going to be one hell of a rematch.

Marlene and Sirius have a crowd forming around them as they flex and throw out trash talk. You watch as Remus and Dorcas try to coax them down from the tabletop, but they seem unsuccessful.

Peter, Mary, and Lily are fawning over James, hyping him up, even you can tell from across the Hall.

But he isn’t paying attention to them, his eyes are clearly trained on you behind his round glasses.

“Already envisioning Potter’s demise?”

You tear your eyes away from him, instead focusing on your teammate.

“Oh absolutely.” You smirk, before throwing yourself into last minute charts and maneuvers.

Breakfast goes by quick, your leg never stops bouncing underneath the table and your fingers tap incessantly against your goblet.

You and your team strut down to the pitch earlier than anyone else. There’s a slight breeze rolling through the grounds, something you take into account.

It becomes a bit of a blur after you’ve changed into your uniform, the crowd begins to show up and their cheers take over your hearing.

Remus is announcing the game, which you have no idea why since it never goes well for anyone. His commentary ranges from picking on James to flirting with Sirius to just trying to get McGonagall pissed off.

Marching out to the center of the grassy pitch, broom in hand, you’re bombarded with your name being enthusiastically chanted across the entire stadium. Confidence bubbles inside of you as you face James, Madam Hooch just beside you.

“Alright everyone, I expect a nice, clean, and fair game today. This is the Championship, no one will get away with any funny business.” Her tone is clipped as her yellow eyes take in everyone. “Captains, shake hands.”

You and James take a step forward, his hand firmly grasping yours.

“Good luck, love.”

With your hands still connected, James plants his lips on your own, and you eagerly kiss back.

The crowd erupts into even louder cheers.

“Bloody hell!” You hear Remus exclaim over the loud speaker. “James and (Y/Ln) are now snogging on the pitch! You own me five bloody Galleons, Sirius Black! I told you, you—“

“Lupin!”

James takes a step back, his usual smirk painted across his face. His hazel eyes glint mischievously behind his goggles, which he takes the time to adjust like they were his own glasses.

The roar of the entire castle fills your ears after your little reveal.

It’s a little overwhelming, you have to admit, but it doesn’t deter you. You’ve spent too many hours training for this very moment to back down now.

You roll your neck, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, but pixies have already erupted in your stomach. You feel James’ stare burning into you.

“Mount your brooms.” Madam Hooch’s harsh tone cuts through the crowd, but you’re barely paying attention to her as you swing a leg over your broom handle.

The whistle pops into her mouth like usual, but in the split second before she blows with all the air in her lungs, you lock eyes with your boyfriend.

His red and gold robes billow behind him, confidence just rolling off of him. Dark and chaotic curls drift in the breeze.

He sends you a wink.

“Game on, love.”

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

For @lunalovecroft go check their blog out!

#lovecroftstropechallenge #James Potter #james potter x reader #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #the marauders x reader

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cherry-interlude · 3 years

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Lana Del Rey Album Songs Ranking (Remade)

It’s been a few years since I ranked all of Lana’s (album) songs so I wanted to do it again. This is all my OPINION, which I’m sure some people might disagree with, but you don’t have to agree with it. This is also a very long post.

Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood

This cover song is just a little too drab and uninteresting to me, and I never listen to it. After the brilliant, sprawling, sexy, heart-breaking tracks on Honeymoon, this feels like a tacked-on track just to plump up the album. It feels simply like a cover.

For Free

Though this is a well-made song, with three brilliant women owning the track, it again just feels like a cover. It fits in well with Chemtrails, but by the time I get to this song I’ve had my fill.

Breaking Up Slowly

It just feels repetitive and simple, something only to have on in the background while my attention is diverted. It’s a good song and a nice attempt at bringing Lana’s country music in, but it does little to keep me interested.

God Knows I Tried

This song is filler. Jammed between the jazzy softness of Terrence Loves You and the pop favourite High By The Beach, this track just feels like it was sort of shoved in. It doesn’t even feel completely right on Honeymoon, instead a throwaway song that bridges Ultraviolence and Honeymoon whilst not fitting in with either album.

Though perfect for the credits of a Hollywood movie, 24 has plenty of flair but nothing of substance. The lyrics aren’t as imaginative as most of Lana’s music and I’m not surprised this song found itself near the end of the album.

Lucky Ones

Personally, this song irritates me. It's sickly in its lyrics, sugary in the romance and classic Lana tropes of dangerous men and Lana starstruck by them no matter if they’re ‘careless cons and crazy liars’. The little flair of the verses and the overtly sweet chorus really irks me, especially following the brilliance that is Lana’s first ‘Del Rey’ album.

Coachella

It is a rushed track, sounding completely unfinished and hurried with an unconvincing track beat. Polished, it would be brilliant – but it sounds like Lana thought of the song (which sounds promising in the video where she sits in the forest and sings) and had to force it to ‘fit in’ with the trap-pop tracks on Lust For Life. The lyrics are thoughtful, if not cliché, but it could have been done better.

This Is What Makes Us Girls

It just doesn’t appeal to me. Maybe because I can’t connect to the lyrics in any way, I just don’t feel anything when I hear this song and choose to skip it. That being said, the demos are pretty fun.

God Bless America

As much as it’s a song honouring women during a period of time when feminism was being shaken, it doesn’t quite feel like Lana’s heart is in it. The patriotism is uneasy considering she was removing herself from the American flag and its associations, and the anthemic feel never lifts. It’s a sweet song, but never goes deeper than surface level.

Religion

Though fairly sexy and haunting – her unshaken faith to her man, her drawling voice – this delicate track is too simple and sombre for me to get completely into it. I always want to skip and get to my favourites.

In My Feelings

It’s great Lana has a bad-girl, bad-bitch, fuck-you pop track but this, like Coachella, feels unfinished. It has the vibe of work in progress, and the vocals are still messy (surely intentionally, though it doesn’t always come across that way) as well as trying slightly too hard. It doesn’t compare to Fucked My Way Up To The Top.

Beautiful People Beautiful Problems

The verses don’t match up to the choruses and I feel nothing – not empowered or emotional – when listening to this song, but it is a beautiful duet between Lana and Stevie. Their voices really are divine together and though I don’t listen to this song much, the demos are even better.

Change

Mostly because it freaks me out, this is a song I don’t often listen to. With a basic structure yet long, meandering lyrics, Lana broods over the state of America at the time, which can make for depressive listening. Though it’s a pretty enough song, it’s seriousness is too much to bear sometimes.

Blue Velvet

Sometimes too slow, Blue Velvet doesn’t inspire multiple listens in me, but it is a gorgeous cover and absolutely a showcase of Lana’s vocals.

Diet Mountain Dew

A cheeky little track that won many over, it still is hard for me to fully get into it. However, it ages like fine wine and is a wonderful step into the Lizzy Grant unreleased tracks (especially with the many, sometimes even better demos).

Burning Desire

It’s a messy song, with Lana’s vocals shaky and the instrumental not quite up to scratch, but this song is certainly a guilty pleasure and great for getting into the sexy mood. The car metaphors are a bit much, especially considering it’s for a car advert, but if you get past that it’s a song to add to your freaky playlist.

Money Power Glory

As powerful and dark as this song is, with incredible instrumentals and Lana at her most dynamic, I barely remember the lyrics of the verses, instead waiting for the rich choruses.

Swan Song

A gentle track that has a lot of untapped power behind it, this is a quiet stormer of a song that has a lot of heart and grace. It may be a filler track, but it is definitely better than some.

Bartender

Even more gentle is the confessional, piano-led Bartender, which is a sweet little love song stripped back much like Lana’s simple romance where she sneaks out to see her lover. The main (and probably ridiculous) thing that keeps me from falling in love with this song more – though I’m already pretty amazed by it – is the very quiet sound of feedback that comes and goes, a fuzzy noise that is very subtle but distracting enough for me.

The Next Best American Record

This song would be higher if it was Architecture – the gorgeous, well-thought stunner that wowed us all when it was leaked. The lyrics are less fractured relationship and more wishy washy, wiping away the gritty sadness that made Architecture so beloved (at least to me). Now it’s been made ‘happier’, it’s hard to tell what the song is – is Lana happy with her lover or is she sad like in the unreleased version? Is this a break up song or a celebration of the romance? What does it mean now that it is both of them that are obsessed with writing? It’s something for me to certainly explore more, but it is paled in comparison to the original.

When The World Was At War

This track grew on me, with the hidden lyrics, fun vocals and hopeful message. Lana knows how to make a song that lifts your mood and this is certainly one of them.

Guns and Roses

I used to despise this song – finding it boring and dull. However, after giving it a listen years later, it is in fact a beautiful song with a gritty feel that is perfect for Ultraviolence. It fits in perfectly with the album and the extended tracks, and though it isn’t the strongest lyrically, the vocals and dreamy feel is thrilling.

Lolita

I choose to listen to this song without the underage character – or romantic connotations of her – in mind, instead seeing this song as a grown woman trying to charm an older man. However, as I have grown older – and read (and loved) the book several times more – I feel more inclined to distance myself from this song. It’s a fun, perky pop track but it definitely feels dated.

Dance Till We Die

Lana sings of her connection to other famous female singers and her daughter’s chosen name, making this a very personal pop song that also reminds of When The World Was At War for its hopeful and ultimately positive edge. It is a little slow but incredible touching, and the bridge is so kickass you can’t help but dance along.

Not All Who Wander Are Lost

This is a very sweet little song that again showcases the more positive side of Lana’s music, rather than the heartbroken and distressed women she tends to play. Though it is a filler song it’s a very pretty one and so catchy.

Wild At Heart

Wild At Heart is similar to Not All Who Wander Are Lost in that it’s a departure from a tragic femme fatale, instead a love song that also mimics Swan Song in that she considers leaving fame for her lover. What makes it even better is how Lana samples How To Disappear, a much sadder track, and twists it into something happy with this ultimately more upbeat album.

Radio

Like Diet Mountain Dew, Radio is another perky tune that is more than just a catchy filler. It’s a little bit sassy and has an edge to it (with the expletives and how her life is sweet not like sugar but cinnamon) that keeps it from being too frothy. Speaking of Lana’s newfound fame, it’s a nice break from the love ballads and tragedies peppered throughout Born To Die.

Without You

Shockingly dramatic, Without You is the ultimate symbol of Lana’s older music – a woman who could only feel happy unless her man was in her life. She has definitely moved on for the most part from wailing her demise at losing her lover but Without You is still glamorous, catchy and perfect to singalong to.

The Other Woman

This is one of Lana’s best covers – Nina Simone’s song about being the other woman and how it is in fact lonely and heart-breaking. Lana makes the song her own, her vocals stunning and lo-fi with instrumentals that are perfect for Ultraviolence.

How To Disappear

I feel that the live version of How To Disappear, where she sung it on stage before it was released with its real instrumental, is the superior version. It’s stripped back and tender enough to feel the emotion thoroughly, but the album version doesn’t disappoint. It’s one of many great tracks from (what I think is) her best album, and has a great story within it.

Fucked My Way Up To The Top

Lana’s satirical, sexy and stirring Fucked My Way Up To The Top was just tongue-in-cheek enough to keep from being too much of a cliché. Perhaps based on her real experiences but definitely a fuck-you to anyone who critiques her for owning her sexuality, it’s a little bit controversial but an incredible song.

Tomorrow Never Came

This song, which is a gorgeous duet with Sean Ono Lennon and a nice nod to 20th century music, subverts expectations that it is a sad song by in fact including a happy ending. I love how it can make you cry with both sadness and happiness, and tells a sweet story that paints pictures of parks and country houses.

Yosemite

The long-awaited Yosemite didn’t disappoint, and though it took a while to grow on me it became a classic and somehow familiar track. It’s impossible to not sing or dance to it and wouldn’t be out of place in Lust For Life.

Hope Is A Dangerous Thing

It’s quite slow – the Change/24/Old Money of Norman Fucking Rockwell – but it is clearly a personal and well-thought song that references Lana’s great inspiration Sylvia Plath. Lana’s deft at getting her thoughts out in song and I think though it’s not a song I often listen to, it is beautiful.

Honeymoon

The sweeping violins, dramatic vocals and the dangerous undercurrent makes Honeymoon crackle with electricity. It’s an amazing introduction to an album that once again has dangerous men, bad girls who get hurt but are strong again and amazing instrumentals. Though it’s not the best song from the album, it sets the tone perfectly.

Million Dollar Man

Like Without You, it’s another song of complete devastation, which Lana has grown from in her music. Million Dollar Man shows some great vocals and lyrics, and gets the emotion out perfectly whilst honouring the music that inspired her.

Old Money

The verses are pretty enough but they don’t catch my attention the way the choruses do. The slow, steady song took a long time for me to really appreciate but it’s impossible not to feel some kind of emotion when Lana lets her lover know she will be with them whenever they need her.

Sad Girl

Like The Other Woman, Sad Girl shows how being the other woman has it’s downfalls but appreciates the sexy, exciting side of it – how alluring her man is and how much of a bad bitch she may be. Once again, it’s a pure Ultraviolence song that shows Lana’s vocals and music in the best way whilst showcasing the classic caricature of the femme fatale.

Dark Paradise

Strangely upbeat for such a sad song, Dark Paradise is great to dance to but also something that makes you want to cry. Lana’s vocalisations and dramatic lyrics don’t quite compare to some of her other songs but Dark Paradise is iconic.

Summertime Sadness

The slow-burn, emotional gut punch that is Summertime Sadness is always a classic and one of Lana’s best. Though it is far from my personal favourite it is absolutely an outstanding song and the perfect example of Lana’s most well-made and well-delivered songs.

Gods and Monsters

The strained Gods and Monsters is a great tale about the evil side of fame, which Lana never quite delves too deeply into but gives a metaphorical and mildly personal nod to. Gods and Monsters is one of those songs that has you singing along and feeling strong.

Carmen

Carmen is a beautiful, sad story that feels rich and luxurious despite its harrowing lyrics of an alcoholic star. The French bridge adds to the decadence and it feels like a dirty alcohol bottle wrapped in silk, from the tentative verses to the unnerving chorus.

Born To Die

One of Lana’s original pop chart tracks, this is a song that never grows old. It’s one of the blueprints of the Lana Del Rey era and deftly shows her vocals whilst setting the tone for the pessimistic, romantic star in the early 2010s.

Salvatore

Opening with laughing – or crying – Salvatore has an eerie feel to it, though it is completely erotic in feel (enough to ignore some of the simpler lyrics). It is a song that feels dreamy, much like the rest of Honeymoon, but passionate and reminding of some of her older music (from the vocals in the bridge that have a Lolita/Fucked My Way Up To The Top feel to them to the continued trope of bad boys and glamour).

Flipside

Dirty, gritty and quite contained, Flipside is a song that I wished had more attention. It’s not her most imaginative song but there’s something about it, from the gloomy guitars to the hushed vocals, that have me wanting to sing it over and over. It also is one of her great fuck-off songs, as sympathetic as it is resilient.

Doin’ Time

Lana really turns this song into her own with the summery instrumentals and the pop edge she is so good at. It’s surprisingly one of her best covers and a fresh-feeling track that isn’t bogged down by emotion or maudlin music.

Lust For Life

Breathless and oh-so-romantic, Lust For Life is one of those songs that was perfect for the charts, and a key piece in Lana’s turn into becoming more positive. However, as fun and lovely as this song is, the demos are a whole other ball game. A little more ethereal, they fit Lana much more perfectly and it’s sad she dismissed the witchy feel for a song that is brilliant but generic.

Love

One of Lana’s warmest and most refreshing songs, she looks at love with fondness and dedicates this track to her ‘kids’. She knows her fans well and to make a song that references them (much like Happiness Is A Butterfly’s nod to her ‘babies’) makes this song all the more pleasant.

The Greatest

Lana’s vocals are put to good use in this intimately-written song. She speaks her mind in her reminiscence of the past and the worries for the future, all with a storming chorus that is certainly one of her best.

Love Song

Tender and almost tentative, Love Song is one of those tracks that is romantic through-and-through. It’s stripped back enough to feel like it really is a private song for only her lover’s ears, just as confessional as Cinnamon Girl and Bartender.

White Mustang

Short but sweet, this song has all the makings of a Lana Del Rey song, harking back to the Born To Die days with her imagery and fallen love affair, but it is spiky enough to be part of her later music where she starts giving less shits. The whistling and race cars are a nice touch, displaying her play on words snugly.

Dark But Just A Game

Sort of jazzy, Dark But Just A Game is ever-shifting and never quite settles on a particular sound. It’s cohesive, however, and clearly states what Lana is thinking in a way that works with the rest of Chemtrails. It’s pretty sexy as well, which doesn’t hurt the enjoyability factor.

High By The Beach

The wooziness, the carelessness and the growth from a woman begging to be put in a movie to a woman who is able to do as she pleases. Lana stumbles and swears through the song but knows exactly what she wants – and it isn’t disappointing men or stalking paparazzi.

Let Me Love You Like A Woman

Some may think it much slower and more boring than a lot of her tracks, but I think it’s a tidy, sweet track. Lana plainly states her love, urges her man to run away with her and lets her emotions (and voice) do the talking.

Summer Bummer

Lana is as restless as a hot summer in this song and it works. Her brisk-paced yet soft-voiced lyrics and gorgeous imagery gets my pulse racing, and ASAP Rocky’s verse works well for it. Though it would have been interesting to get a full, solo Summer Bummer, Rocky adds an edge to this song and compliments his ‘lover’ well.

Groupie Love

Much more flowery and wide-eyed, Groupie Love is like a contradiction. Lana’s passionate dalliance with Rocky’s god-like star opposes the relationship in Summer Bummer (uncertain) but both are just as secret. Groupie Love has the edge of being ultra-dreamy and demonstrating pure love – and lust – without the messiness.

American

It’s a filler track that has potential for much more. It’s an adorable song, almost cautious in its lead-up to the satisfying chorus, and is filled with Lana tropes galore. Following Lana’s stressed Ride and coming before the darkly sensual Cola, American is a breath of fresh air.

National Anthem

What an anthem it is. It’s simply provocative and one of her most classic tracks. Mixing love, money and fame together with a bit of sex thrown in, National Anthem is precisely what Lana’s America seems to be.

Is This Happiness?

It’s muted, mournful and resentful, questioning a relationship that Lana wants to keep but at the same time doesn’t. This is one of Lana’s best sad songs, tearful as it is still adoring beneath the exasperation.

Art Deco

Art Deco is purely dreamy, a song to bathe in. The lyrics are a little bit simple but Lana’s vocals and the flowing, aquatic music is the perfect hook.

Terrence Loves You

Lana’s jazzy song is delicate, letting only her voice and the saxophone dominate. With references to David Bowie, Lana pines for someone who hurt her badly, but she soothes herself with music the way plenty of her fans do when listening to her records.

White Dress

The vocals were a surprise at first – high, strained whispers – but they definitely grew on me. Painting a picture of young Lana loving life and dreaming of bigger things, it’s nostalgic in lyrics but also reminds of some of Lana’s old work – her unreleased tracks where she would serve coke and fries.

Chemtrails

It gets better as it goes on, growing and twisting from a song to sunbathe to into a restless, darkening track. It has the best vibe for an idealised world with something a bit off, and the imagery of pools, jewels and schools grounds Lana into a (very, very rich) normality rather than the glamorous star she always liked to portray.

13 Beaches

Opening with a quote from Carnival of Souls, Lana takes High By The Beach to the next level. She goes from sticking her middle finger up to the paparazzi to simply wishing she would be allowed to live her life without them hounding her. It’s a matured approach that uses sound interestingly, with beeps and whines adding a strange texture to the song.

Cola

The controversial line was intended as humour, but strangely it works. Even if Cola is satire like Fucked My Way Up To The Top, Lana owns the ‘other woman’, the patriotic singer, the sexy and unashamed woman who says what she thinks without caring of the consequences. It’s an iconic song, even if you have to turn the volume down to not offend.

Black Beauty

The unreleased version is ten times more emotive, with its stripped back and lonesome feel, but the album version is just as good. The ultimately loving but unhappy lyrics are full of stunning imagery, and this is a song that would have been perfect with a music video.

Body Electric

Blasphemous as much as it honours icons, Lana sinfully owns Body Electric. The bridge is a bit out of place but Lana’s eyebrow-raising approach to religion and sexuality is genius.

Off To The Races

The best demonstration of Lana’s vocals, Lana plays the glam girl without a care just as well as the Lolita-type, needy lover in this ode to money and her man. The soaring bridge is stunning, and the swirling violins add an air of Hollywood to it.

Bel Air

Completely overlooked (in my opinion), Bel Air is an apologetic song of redemption, a shining and honest track that is as touching as much as it is hazy and tranquil. With soft piano and the sound of children opening and closing the song respectively, it’s set apart from Paradise with a pureness that Lana pulls off well.

Ultraviolence

Controversial at the time and still controversial now, Ultraviolence is about being weak, about giving in to love no matter how toxic. I don’t entirely support the lyrics but it’s a stunning song, lo-fi enough to feel uneasy and haunting. When you shut off from the lyrics, you get a simply beautiful track.

Pretty When You Cry

Lana’s imperfect, close-to-tears vocals are wonderful in this song, and she really lets her emotion shine through. The pained guitar and Lana’s increasingly distressed singing are enough to get you feeling exactly as she does.

Florida Kilos

Fun. Fresh. Freeing. Lana’s ode to drugs is simply something to dance to and sing, and she somehow manages to get the sunny feeling across even with the Ulraviolence-esque grunginess. It’s one of my favourite songs of Lana’s because it’s just so happy, which is a nice departure from some of her heavier tracks.

Cherry

Many people’s favourite – Cherry. It was my favourite of Lana’s for a long time, dripping with sex appeal and sadness but with a cute dance to compliment it. It had all the right stuff wrapped up in a tidy, compact box and the imagery is lush. I still love this song but since then we’ve had the ‘Cherries’ of her next few albums, Cinnamon Girl and Tulsa Jesus Freak. Like these, Cherry was a song that seemed set apart from the rest of the album and was a novel take on her typical music.

California

Simply for It's meaningful, raw lyrics – promising to be there as soon as he wants her, much like in Old Money – California is a sun-soaked dream with a very honest approach. Lana isn’t completely devastated, or begging for her lover to return. She is sad but realistic, and only wants the best for him. It’s beautiful and sad with a crazily addictive chorus.

West Coast

The shift from fast-paced, grungey, whispered verses to sprawling, drawling choruses – complete with weirdly sexy beeps towards the end of the song – shook us all, and it’s one of Lana’s most interesting songs. Lana honours the West Coast but also her man, in love with the music scene as much as she is with him.

Shades of Cool

The snide verses. The gradually growing music. The guitars. The explosive chorus. The nuclear bridge. The absolutely perfect timing and pacing. Shades of Cool is flawless, another Sad Girl but with much more power, emotion and music.

The Blackest Day

The Blackest Day needs more attention. Cold in places, almost lost, but then wounded in the chorus, The Blackest Day rolls with the emotions and is the kind of song that makes you want to fall apart and sob. Which is good, in a way, as it shows how brilliantly Lana conveys emotion.

Freak

Cult-like and haunting, this is the sexy predecessor of California. Lana swoons and tempts in this track, from her harmonising to her pouting “take it to the back if you really wanna talk” - not to mention the rest of the song in its entirely, all elements married together to create the perfect seductive track.

Music To Watch Boys To

Like Art Deco, Music To Watch Boys To is fairly aquatic and dreamy. Like Freak, it has that cult vibe (the chanting of the bridge). However, this song is perfectly its own, from the mix-up of vocal styles to the shifting tone (sad to smug to obsessively in love).

Norman Fucking Rockwell

What an opener. Norman Fucking Rockwell lets the actual singing and lyrics do the talking, the instrumentals pushed back enough to let Lana’s gut-punching first line (“God damn, man child, you fucked me so good that I almost said I love you”) and her blue yet annoyed insults to her Norman Rockwell do the talking.

Mariner’s Apartment Complex

It’s a song for yourself and for the people you love. Lana is strong enough to take care of herself, to be her own guidance – and to take on her lover’s problems too. It’s an empowering song, so distant from a lot of her discography, and I adore the nautical references and the hopeful message.

Brooklyn Baby

Satire again, but it still works. Lana plays a (fairly cringey) and somewhat self-absorbed, over-confident singer who is too cool for her own boyfriend, but she does it well. From saying how she wished people didn’t judge her, to the freedom the seventies gives her, to the warm guitars and upbeat tone, to the backup vocals of Seth Kaufman, Brooklyn Baby is a song to remember for all the right reasons.

Ride

Ride is one of Lana’s best, if not the best. With her devotion to America and her open thoughts about needing other people to make her feel good and happy, Lana knocks it out of the park with the superb step up from Born To Die.

Video Games

Video Games is just beautiful, plain and simple. Lana’s low voice, telling a flowing story of the simplicities of true love, are removed from her ‘famous singer’ image she constantly tried to portray and instead open up to the heart of what she has always sung about: love and its many forms, good or bad.

Get Free

The new take on Ride was a pleasant surprise. From changing the lyrics to show she wants to move on and be happy to (silently) name-dropping her influences, Lana’s manifesto was a personal song that we could all resonate with. The outro of the beach was the perfect closer to Lust For Life, and Get Free summarised the album which took her from sad girl to someone who could let herself move on.

Heroin

Heroin is no doubt one of her best. It’s tense and dark, referencing Manson and (allegedly) a friend she lost years ago. Lana lets herself dive into her worst thoughts headfirst, not so much dreamy as it is nightmarish, but still comes out the other side dreaming of marzipan and ready to move on.

Tulsa Jesus Freak

The third of the ‘Cherries’, Tulsa Jesus Freak goes straight to a happy place. Where Cherry was angry and Cinnamon Girl was cautious, this track dives into being comfortable with her man. It was just as passionate as the other two songs but about religion, sex and self-satisfaction.

Blue Jeans

Plucking guitars, crying violins and Lana weaving a tale about a gangsta who left her, without explanation, and the hurt that follows. Similarly tied to Dark Paradise, Blue Jeans is the next level of that, her tough-girl spoken verses dismissed as the choruses open up and she pours her heart out.

Cruel World

Lana is on top-form on this song, furious, maddened, sad, taunting – she hits every emotion with style. Lana grows more and more unstable as the song goes on, invoking images of a woman scorned and no longer taking that shit, but she still has a fragility about her as she comes undone that is tied directly to her Ultraviolence era.

Happiness Is A Butterfly

This song goes through many stages. She is unsure, not knowing how her lover feels. She is optimistic, elated as she tries to capture the butterfly. She is dismissive, no longer caring if she might get hurt – she loves too much. She is pissed off, sick of being treated badly. She gives in, simply wanting to dance and just be happy. The flow of this song is constant, a little messy, but it has the beautiful message pinned to it: to keep trying to be happy and do what you love.

Fuck It I Love You

I love the music video version more than the album version, the latter being more stripped back. Fuck It I Love You just gives in to emotion, acknowledging Lana is hurt, her lover is hurt, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him. She simply lets that feeling take over.

Cinnamon Girl

Cinnamon Girl touched me like no other Lana song has. Where Cherry was a mixture of emotions, good and bad, angry and loving, devastated and thrilled, Cinnamon Girl was about cautious optimism. Lana urges her lover to give in, and she knows – smiling as she sings it – she wins.

Venice Bitch

Venice Bitch just has that soothing, unhindered feel to it – and not just from the nine minutes of pure music and vibe. Lana dedicates this song to the kind of love that is just wholesome and homely, all whilst touching on her insanity, her ever-lasting love for America and the modern world (her live streams). It feels nostalgic yet contemporary, and adding the “fucks” and “bitch[es]” helps keep this song from being to sugary sweet but instead what it is – an honest love song rooted in the idealised and the realistic.

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snarwor · 3 years

Text

moon and old stars - chapter 1

I blame @badwolfbadwolf for every single word of this. Din Djarin/Boba Fett Daddy Kink with a side of Emotional Hurt/Comfort? I’m fuckin AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA damn it I’m writing Star Wars fic again. What’s this ship name? Link to AO3 at the bottom. No warnings so far. Also: this is my first time posting a fic on Tumblr so if there’s formatting issues yolo

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He wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t. He was practically forty cycles old and he knew better. Here he was, without a damn starship, without the kid, bereft of enough credits to make a difference, and he was spiraling out of control due to the residual guilt and shame which had come with taking his helmet off at the refinery on Morak. He’d compromised himself, his Creed, his people.

And the damn Fett wasn’t talking to him, to top it off. That’s just great.

It wasn’t much of a Way if you kept meandering vaguely off course, listing on just this side of heresy.

Cara and Fennec had gone off in search of food on some outpost near the Outer Rim, a few days’ travel behind Gideon, and therefore Grogu. Din was left alone in Slave I with Boba Fett, and he was practically crawling out of his skin.

He’d rehearsed the bad idea so many times in his head, but somewhere between his mind and his mouth the words changed from “Wanna go shoot something?” to “I need a distraction.”

The old bounty hunter was sitting at the console near the hyperdrive, sans helmet, as he was used to. Din’s hands were shaking in their gloves, but the gloves and his armor were sturdy enough to hide it from the common man’s eye.

Boba Fett was not a common man. He was a Mandalorian, if not by Creed then by race, and he knew exactly the deadly mix of poisons which had led Din to this point better than... kriff, better than anyone else in this blasted galaxy.

His eyes, so level and sure, so calculating and sharp it felt like there wasn’t any beskar between them, regarded him and his request. Din hadn’t asked, he was past the point of asking. He was desperate to get his mind off of the vicious circle of imagining what the kid was going through. Fett stood and straightened his back.

Din wasn’t a slight man, by anyone’s definition. He was strong enough to wield and wear the armor, to make it this long as a guild bounty hunter, to survive the training and the trauma that came from just living in the wild galaxy. But Boba Fett was a clone, he was created to be the most powerful kriffing bastard this side of the stars, and he was engineered smarter, faster, and stronger. He had a hand’s length on him in height, and Din was eager to know what that would feel like, without the armor, without the boots, without—

But Fett hadn’t spoken yet, he hadn’t even given anything away that Din could overthink about. He was sweating all over the inside of his helmet, worse than when he first put one on as a teenager. He swallowed roughly, and the vocoder picked it up, a soft crackle putting his nervousness on display.

“Come with me.”

It was three words, which were more than enough of an order for Din’s head to swim, and he followed like Fett had said to. He was led to a berthing at the far edge of the ship. The matter of fact way Fett had interpreted his request for a distraction as “I’m taking you to bed” made him swoon a little on his feet. “I don’t lay with armor. You’ll have to take it off.”

“But—”

“If I wanted to lay with a droid, I’d lay with a droid. It comes off.”

Again, Din was brought to heel by three short words. And really, what was there left of himself that he could hold tight to and pretend was honorable? How much of himself had he given up in just the last few months? What part of him actually still fit, hidden behind buckles and clasps and plates and signets?

He forced himself not to think about it. His need was great. Back on Morak, he’d felt the same need take control, blurring the line in his head that was at one point, uncrossable. Now, his whole mind was blurred, and he felt the air in his helmet was hot and stifling. Piece by piece, the armor around him came off, and with it, his cares and self-respect. He was willing to debase himself for one petty distraction.

In for a credit, and all.

The chest plate acted as sort of a holding dish for the rest, keeping it nice and tidy and out of Fett’s way as he bared every part of himself. Fett watched with an unreadable expression as pale skin was uncovered, as cloth-covered elbows and socked feet revealed itself to the room. The door was shut, there was some semblance of safety here, but the recklessness with which Din stripped himself gave the old man something to worry about.

Finally, in just his soft skin-layer clothes, all that was left was the damned helmet. Din felt his lips wobbling beneath it, and set his jaw. It’s just a distraction. It’s just enough to get me by. Then I can bottle the shame and find a way to repent for my actions. This is the Way.

The light in the room was dim, like Fett had known Din’s eyes needed to adjust. The helmet sat atop the rest of the armor with a soft thud, finality in its tone. Din let out a shuddering breath, and his eyes went to the floor, his head with it. He’s worn the helmet so long that he was unused to peripheral vision when he had it.

“Look at me.” Three-word sentences were a favorite of Fett’s, so it seemed. “You are not of a Creed you can disappoint while in here. The only truth is that you are mine.”

Din’s eyes flashed up, and his jaw dropped. That strange cadence to his voice, the accent, it was unfamiliar enough to his ears that it set the stage for what came next. “Yours?” he croaked, almost flinching at the new acoustic quality his voice had.

“Mine.” Fett sat on the edge of his bed, and made no motion for Din to follow, so he remained standing. “You are unfamiliar with this kind of activity. Good. There’s nothing you can do, or have done, that will change how I treat you here. We will start small. You will follow my orders. If you are confused about something, you will ask. If something is wrong, you will say ‘beskar’ and we will stop. No one else is allowed to know about this. I will not speak of it, and neither will you. This will not follow outside of here unless we speak of it. Do you have any questions?”

Millions.

“No.”

“Kneel here.” Fett pointed with a single, gnarled finger to a point on the ground by his feet. Din made a soft noise of resistance, but a firm look reminded him that he was to follow Fett’s orders. He slowly went to his knees, and walked forward on them, closer, to Fett’s side. He thought they were going to do this on the bed. “Get comfortable.”

He spoke like he’d rather be talking in a different language, but for Din he’d keep speaking in Common. Din adjusted his kneeling stance so his back wasn’t slouched. They often meditated in the cloister and learned to stay very still despite discomfort, but Fett had told him to get comfortable, so he did, though once he’d found it, he began to fidget.

“Put your head here.” Fett patted his lap. Surely there was an easier way for him to do this…? Din wasn’t sure he’d be able to reach Fett’s cock in this position. “Your mind is jumping several steps ahead. We are not moving past this now. Relax your mind.”

“I asked for a distraction, not a guided meditation,” Din grumbled, resisting and testing the waters a little. Fett seemed quick to temper despite his glacial expressions, but in here, he took the little barb like Din hadn’t even said anything.

“You will get what you need, and nothing more unless you follow what it is I’m saying. Put your head here. I won’t repeat myself again.”

Din gently rested his head against Fett’s thigh. It was a strange sensation, to feel warmth there not brought by engine heat or the flash-burn of a sonic shower, or his own body heat trapped in the helmet. The fabric over his thigh was a rough canvas, but not too thick that it hid the warmth from the man wearing them.

“Good. That’s good.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Fett put a hand on his head, not grabbing, just resting. He took deep breaths and calmed his heart down.

He’d spent so many months taking a sharp blade to his hair, thinning it down as soon as it was long enough to curl. He didn’t like to meet his own eyes in the mirror as he worked, only looked at his face enough to do a cursory, impersonal shave and haircut, and only when absolutely necessary. He felt he owed it to the Creed that he didn’t indulge in time spent out of the helmet, in things like vanity and pride.

But now, with Fett’s hand on his head, and his head on his thigh, kneeling at his feet because he’d been told to, he wished he’d spent a bit more time making sure it was at least even. Insecurity and shame bubbled inside of him, and it made damn sure Din knew how unworthy he was of a signet, of the helmet, of the gifts given by his people. Through many years and lonely nights, even after he met the kid, he’d found himself in moments of physical pain, but never enough to make him cry like a child.

This simple act, it seemed, was enough.

It started slow, a prickling spark behind his eyes, a flash of radiant embarrassment on his cheeks. He swallowed past a lump in his throat. His vision blurred with tears, and they fell, uninhibited, from his eyes. If Fett noticed, he didn’t speak about it, and didn’t move his hand back. His thigh and his hand were the only two points in the galaxy that could tether Din back to himself, and he was holding on tightly to that sensation.

Those fingers curled into unevenly-cut hair, a gentle scritch against a sensitive scalp, and Din cried harder. Under the sounds of his gasps and silent, shuddering sobs, he heard humming. It wasn’t a song he recognized, but the tune became familiar the more Fett repeated it, in a deep register that matched his entire demeanor.

Din’s hands came to wrap around Fett’s calf, holding on hesitantly, but tighter once the song interrupted with a “Hm,” of assent. Now he had four points of tethering, and it was easier for Din to let the tears carry away his shame and injuries to his pride.

He didn’t know how long he was down there, knelt by Fett’s feet, but when he felt fine enough to look up, he was surprised to meet Fett’s eyes. He somehow knew Fett hadn’t looked away even once in the whole time Din had knelt. “You were very good for me,” Fett said, a soft quality to his voice that made Din’s breath catch. The hand on his head shifted and cupped the back of his neck, and Din’s eyes fluttered shut. How long had it been…? Never, his mind said. You’ve never felt like this.

“What was that song?” Din asked, his voice terribly hoarse and small.

“It’s an old one, so old time forgot the words but not the sound and story. It told a tale about an old star shooting across the galaxy, and when it sailed past a moon made of crystals so clear it looked like starlight, it stopped, pulled into orbit by a thing so beautiful it was helpless against the laws of the universe. My father used to sing it to me, and now I sing it to you.”

Din didn’t know what to make of that, but said, “That sounds like a nice story. Will you teach me the song?”

“I will. But not now. The others will be back soon. You may want to clean up.”

Din noticed the uncomfortable feeling of tears dried on his face, and felt the wave of self-consciousness return, though it was greatly subdued.

“There’s a shower on board.”

“Thank you.” Din kept his eyes down, gathering up his things again, his pieces.

“You’re welcome, any time you need it.”

“What if I don’t need it?” Din said, trying to cover his vulnerability with...something else.

“Then you don’t need it,” Fett said, calm as anything. He stood.

Sure enough, those five inches Fett had on him were made starkly apparent when Din stood in none of his armor. Certain men carried a metaphorical weight with them when they walked, and others carried an imagined height that let them look down on others. Boba Fett was bigger in both senses, but did not use his power to belittle or condescend at Din. He exuded a presence of comfort and safety, a peace that Din had thought inaccessible for himself for so very long.

He felt held, though they stood apart.

“I’ll just. Shower.” Din said, awkwardness filling his lungs.

As soon as he was in the small ‘fresher, he closed the hatch and wondered what in the kriff just happened.

Read on AO3.

Chapter two.

#star wars fanfiction #din djarin/boba fett #mandalorian fanfiction #if past me saw now me she would be very disappointed #my writing #moon and old stars

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echo-bleu · 3 years

Text

all this time I had feathers

This is a fill for my @shadowhunterbingo square Christmas Fic. It's part of my map out a world series (with autistic Alec), but it should stand on its own. I only remembered I had a Christmas square on my Bingo yesterday, so this is written in two days and unbetaed!

Our boys run into some competing access needs over Christmas. I've given hints that Magnus has ADHD in this series and it's still not really explicit here, but I will write a fic more focused on that at some point.

The title is from a truly beautiful theater play that's unfortunately only available in French, Plume by Alistair Houdayer. The play uses a bird as a metaphor for autism and the full sentence is "All this time I had feathers and you lied to me?" (translation is my own). It's about discovering that you're autistic after years of being shut down and ignored.

Read on AO3.

Alec sighs internally as he opens the door to the loft and hears music. It’s been like this for days and he can’t take it anymore. Magnus has been hanging lights everywhere and blasting Christmas songs at every chance, and Alec’s headache hasn’t left him for days. Thankfully Christmas is tomorrow, so maybe it will stop afterwards.

Although that might be too optimistic. Alec has never really done anything for Christmas before, beside a quiet exchange of presents with his siblings, but he knows the decorations in shops don’t go anywhere until the new year. That’s one week away. He’s not sure he can do this without blowing up again.

He takes a deep breath. The last time he was here, this morning before his shift, Catarina and Madzie had dropped by to bake cookies with Magnus and Alec barely managed to contain himself until they left, exploding as soon as he and Magnus were alone. He said things he didn’t mean, and things he definitely didn’t mean to say in anger. He doesn’t even know where all that rage comes from – it’s just a deep, twisted feeling inside, his skin crawling until he can’t take anymore of the twinkling lights and the cheesy songs.

He stormed out and he and Magnus haven’t talked since, not even by text.

“Alexander,” Magnus says coolly when Alec finds him in the apothecary, bent over a potion of some sort. The smell coming from it is horrendously strong, though not bad per say. It smells like mint and maybe cinnamon – not that Alec is very good at identifying scents, but they’re ones that he usually likes.

“I’m sorry,” Alec forces out, even if the irritation is rising in his chest again. “I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t know what came over me.”

Magnus looks at him for a moment. “I have to admit I didn’t expect to spend most of Christmas Eve wondering why we’re even fighting,” he says slowly. “But you were obviously angry, and it can’t have been because of the flour all over the kitchen, since I cleaned that up straight away. Can we sit and talk about it calmly?”

Alec nods, breathing through his nose to avoid the now overwhelming smell of mint. “Are you nearly done with this?”

“Oh, yes, I’ll just bottle it up and then I can join you. Make yourself comfortable wherever you want.”

Alec breathes in relief that Magnus isn’t so angry that he’ll ignore their comfort for the sake of arguing. But it makes what he’s about to ask all the harder.

“Would you please turn the music off?” he asks as neutrally as possible. He knows it comes out monotonous and emotionless, and he sees Magnus tense at it.

But contrary to the expected retort, Magnus looks up and assesses him for a moment before he sighs.

“Oh, Alexander,” he murmurs, and the music stops. “Go. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Alec nods and turns on his heels. The sudden quiet in the loft feels like heaven, although he can’t look anywhere without being assaulted by bright and colorful Christmas lights. In the living room, he freezes for at least a whole minute, trying to decide between the comfort of the couch and the table where there are slightly few visible light garlands if he sits facing the windows. The choice feels too hard to make right now and—

Alec makes himself move and goes for the bedroom instead. Magnus said wherever he wants. They usually avoid having fights in the bedroom to keep it a sanctuary of sorts, but maybe this is a needed exception.

He flops down on the bed, looking in dismay at the fairy light garlands hung all around the room. He doesn’t hate fairy lights, he’s the first to admit that they’re pretty – when used with some semblance of moderation. Not when they cover every square inch of the walls. He sighs and closes his eyes, slipping under the covers despite the fact that he’s fully dressed. The weighted blanket immediately grounds him.

He hasn’t slept properly in a while. Maybe that’s what’s making him grumpy. There’s been a surge of demon activity in the city, on top of all the Clave ceremonies he has to attend this time of the year. That means he’s been on call or in Alicante almost every night, and sleeping during the day with this damn music on is near impossible.

When Magnus finally joins him, he’s nearly asleep. He presses his fists into his eyes, trying to force the tiredness out of his head. Magnus doesn’t say anything as he removes his jacket and slips into bed beside him. He still smells faintly of mint and cinnamon.

“Darling,” he says softly after a moment. He reaches out, but he doesn’t touch Alec, settling his hand an inch away from Alec’s arm.

Alec tries to make himself cross the gap between them, but it feels too big right now, his skin still crawling. He makes an aborted motion of apology.

Magnus picks up one of the long golden necklaces he’s wearing and offers it to Alec, without removing it. It has a pendant at the end, tiny intertwined circles that can spin around each other. Alec latches onto it without even thinking about it, finding comfort in both the stimming and the connection to Magnus.

“Can you speak?” Magnus asks. He soft, gentle. Not angry. Alec doesn’t understand – he deserves all of Magnus’ anger and more.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. He’s not sure he can hold a long conversation, but here under the covers, the lights hidden by the blankets, he feels better, like a fog is lifting from his mind.

Magnus taps the mattress with a finger by Alec’s head. “Have you been overloaded this whole time?”

“I’m not—” Alec starts immediately, but he stops mid-sentence.

Oh.

That’s what it is. The irrational anger, the constant irritation, his inability to focus. His speech has been as unreliable as his sleeping pattern, but he’s long learned to make do with groans and looks. The constant buzzing in his brain, the exhaustion that only he seems to feel…

“I don’t know,” he amends. “Maybe?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Alec bites his lip, focusing on the necklace he’s fidgeting with rather than on Magnus. “I didn’t realize,” he says.

“Was it just the music?” Magnus asks, unclasping his bike chain bracelet to match his fidgeting. Alec shifts his stare from his own hands to Magnus’, the repetitive movement soothing.

He tries to think about the question, to push it through his mushy brain and figure out an answer. He really is tired, in that way that doesn’t make him want to sleep so much as hide in a quiet corner. He knows that he’s taking too long to answer, but Magnus waits patiently.

“The music...the lights, too. Everything’s too bright. And...too many people.” They’ve had someone over nearly every day, wether it’s Cat and Madzie or Dot or Raphael or Clary and Simon, and occasionally Magnus’ other Downworlder friends Alec has never met before. After whole shifts at the Institute, coordinating patrols and trying to stay on top of things, or fighting demons in back alleys, all he wants is some quiet and peace.

“Alexander,” Magnus buries his face in the mattress. “I’ve been overloading you this whole time and I didn’t even notice.” He turns back toward Alec, his voice no longer muted. “I’m truly sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Alec says. “You didn’t know.”

“I did not, but you still deserve an apology. How did we let get so far?”

“I—” Alec hesitates. “You seemed happy.”

Magnus shakes his head. “My happiness cannot come at the price of yours. I want you to tell me when it gets too much. When I get too much.”

Alec catches Magnus’ wrist in his hand, intent overwhelming his touch-avoidance. “No. It’s not you. You’re never too much for me, Magnus.”

They’ve only spoken a few times about Magnus’ history with that phrase, about his own difference, his own deviations from the norm, but Alec knows it’s something deeply ingrained. Magnus has been told he’s too much too often in his life, and Alec will not let him belittle himself that way. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t realized it myself,” he says. “It’s like...background noise. After a while, you can tune it out and you don’t even hear it anymore, but it’s still draining.”

“But why would you tune it out, instead of just telling me to stop it?” Magnus asks, not moving his hand from Alec’s grasp. Alec releases him and intertwines their hands instead.

“I didn’t...think of it,” he tries. It’s not true, not entirely. He didn’t ask, because Magnus liked it. He didn’t ask because he didn’t want to be a killjoy, as his siblings have too often accused him of being. He didn’t want to take this little bit of happiness away from Magnus because he’s an oversensitive simp.

He doesn’t voice that thought, because he knows what Magnus would think of it. And he supposes that’s progress, in a way.

Magnus understands anyway. “You’ve been so used to your perceptions being ignored that you don’t know how to set boundaries,” he says slowly. “Am I wrong?”

Alec shrugs with the one shoulder that’s not against the bed.

“You like the lights, and the music,” he says. “And the baking, all the Christmas stuff.”

“I do. But we could have found a middle ground. You can’t sacrifice your comfort for mine.”

Alec bites back that it’s what he’s always done. It’s not true. It used to be, maybe, with his family, but with Magnus, he’s never had to do that. Magnus is always so attentive, anticipating his needs before he can even ask.

So the least Alec could do is let him have this.

“Why do you like Christmas so much?” he asks softly, rather than dig further into it.

“It’s not really Christmas,” Magnus confesses. “I’m not religious, and I don’t care much about the meaning of it all. But it gives me an excuse.”

He pauses, and Alec simply waits, nodding encouragingly.

“I often get...sad, in the winter,” Magnus continues. “I don’t know if it’s what the mundanes call seasonal depression, or if it’s because I’ve lived so long and lost so many people during the winter months, but this time of the year is always hard for me. So I do everything to try and cheer myself up. I usually throw parties almost every night, just to surround myself with living, breathing people – and vampires, who thrive on the longest nights of the year.”

“You haven’t thrown many parties this year,” Alec remarks.

“No, I know you don’t like them and I didn’t want you to feel excluded—”

Alec tenses. “You shouldn’t stop for my sake! Did I prevent you from doing something that helps you?”

Magnus shakes his head. “Only in the same way that I forced you to bear things that were too much for you. We neglected to talk about it when we should have.”

Alec sighs and curls up on himself a little more.

“Besides,” Magnus adds, “This year, I have you. My very own living, breathing Nephilim to keep me warm. I’m better than I’ve been every other year. I just...I got scared that it would happen again, and I didn’t want you to see me like that. So I went a little overboard with the Christmas cheer.”

“A little?” Alec gives a small laugh.

“Okay, a lot. You told me you’ve never properly celebrated Christmas before, so I wanted to give you the full experience, and keep myself busy in the process. I never stopped to think about how it could affect you. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Alec murmurs.

“Whatever for?”

“The...communication failure? I’m trying, but it’s not...easy.”

Magnus smiles softly, running his thumb over the back of Alec’s hand. “And that’s okay. As long as we’re trying. We just need to check in a little more often.”

“Okay,” Alec nods weakly. “We can try that.”

“No more music,” Magnus says. “I’ll dim all the lights.”

“Music is fine if it’s low,” Alec corrects. “And maybe not when I’m trying to sleep.”

Magnus closes his eyes in dismay. “I’m—”

“Stop apologizing,” Alec interrupts him. “Been there, done that. Let’s move on. I promise I’ll try to tell you if it gets too much again.”

“Okay. What do you want to do now?”

Alec thinks about it. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. He still feels slow and his head aches, though the worst is passing.

“Can I hold you?” Magnus asks.

Alec opens his mouth to say yes, but he’s not ready yet. He gives Magnus an apologizing look and a tiny shake of his head.

“I think I need to clear my head,” he says slowly. “Just...think. It’s not against you at all, I just need to be in my own mind for a bit.” He needs to center himself. He feels scattered, like he’s been open and exposed to the elements and he needs to just be himself again.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Magnus starts to rise.

“No!” Alec stops him. “I’ll go. Walking will help. I’ll be back soon, promise.”

He jumps to his feet, eager to go now that he’s made the decision. He forces himself to check that Magnus doesn’t seem too worried or angry, but Magnus simply nods, looking a little surprised but not overly concerned.

“I’ll be here,” he says simply.

When Alec walks back into the loft two hours later, he does it with a measure of apprehension. He feels better, but he’s not sure what to expect.

There is music coming from inside, but it’s different. It’s not a cheesy Christmas song, and not even one of the classical pieces Magnus tried that Alec enjoyed marginally better. It’s something modern but also slow, quiet even though it permeates the entire loft. It’s soothing.

The lights are out. That’s the first thing Alec notices, because everything has been so bright for so long. He thinks for a moment that maybe Magnus went out, went to celebrate with friends who actually enjoy the holiday. He feels a pang on guilt at that – okay, a whole bucket of guilt. He’s been a grinch, and he knows it. But he couldn’t think with all those lights and noises.

The only light on is a fairy light garland that’s magically running in a single thread over all the walls in the loft, casting a soft light without actually being bright. The rooms themselves are plunged in darkness, and Alec toes off his shoes and lets his coat and scarf fall to the floor and he pads over to the living room by feel, relishing the lack of pain assaulting his eyes.

The music is louder in the living room, but not so much that it’s painful. Alec blinks twice as he takes in the sight in front of him.

In the middle of the dark room is Magnus. He’s wearing nothing but a dark leotard, and his skin is lit by swirling strands of while magic, curling around his arms. He’s dancing.

Alec doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath.

Magnus’ face is briefly illuminated by his magic, his eyes closed and a small smile on his face. He hasn’t heard Alec come in. He seems to have banished all the furniture in the room, and he’s spinning on one foot, en pointe in ballet shoes. Small bursts of magic come out of his hands as the song picks up, swirling through the room like a wispy light whip.

Magnus starts moving faster, the ribbons of light following him. Alec knows very little about dance, but even he can tell that Magnus’ style is unique, not solely ballet but also not quite modern dance. Alec almost gasps as he does what he can only describe as a back flip and lands smoothly on his feet, spinning once more.

It’s an incredibly beautiful sight. Alec stands at the door, transfixed, until the song ends and Magnus ends the dance by lowering himself down to the floor, crossing his legs under him. The light around his body dims progressively – no, that’s not it. It seems to sink under his skin, until his whole body looks like it’s glowing. Magnus gracefully runs his hand down his arm, guiding the light inside him until it reaches the tip of his fingers and explodes in a shower of sparkles.

When everything quiets, Alec lets out the breath he’s been holding. It feels like he should applaud, but he’s loath to break the silence. Besides, he doesn’t know if Magnus would take it well, right now.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Magnus whispers, his eyes still closed.

So he did notice Alec come in.

“Magnus, it was incredible,” Alec murmurs, letting the quiet carry his voice.

Magnus opens his eyes and looks at him. They stay still for a moment, the dark room between them, eyes easy to meet in the shadows. “I like the lights and the sounds, but they’re just filling a void,” Magnus says in a soft voice. “I was trying too hard.”

“It’s okay if you need them,” Alec says. “We can find a way to meet in the middle.”

“But I don’t. I wanted to feel warm and safe, but I didn’t realize that I’ve never felt as warm and safe as when I’m with you.”

Alec smiles, the words seeping into him with their own warmth, after the cold of the streets.

“Dancing makes me feel alive,” Magnus continues. “And I’d forgotten that, too.”

“You were beautiful.”

Magnus stands up smoothly and extends a hand. “Do you want to join?”

“I don’t dance,” Alec says.

“Just let go and only look at me. My magic will help you.”

Alec tries to match Magnus’ light steps as he walks toward him. He feels a jolt when they link hands, almost like the first time, over that summoning pentagram. Magnus pulls on his arm and Alec lets go of his control, relinquishing himself to the light touches of magic he can feel over his skin.

The music starts again. Light ribbons swirl over them both as they spin together. Magnus jumps to his pointes and spins around in Alec’s arms, and their height suddenly match. The only light is the magic twirling around their limbs, immaterial and teasing. Magnus grips Alec’s forearm and lifts himself effortlessly off the ground, spinning around Alec’s body until he’s in his arms again, his back arched.

The light dims to almost nothing, sinking into their chest. Their mouths meet.

“Thank you, Alexander,” Magnus murmurs.

Alec kisses him again.

I'm working on an illustration of the dance scene but I wanted to post the fic tonight while it's still Christmas!

Maybe it shows that I've been watching Tiny Pretty Things. The show is kinda terrible but I love watching people dance.

Magnus here is technically dancing the part of a woman, which is why I've use the GNC Magnus and Nonbinary Magnus (as he's nonbinary in this series). Pointe shows are also traditionally worn only by women. In my mind, Magnus trained for both roles at different times in his life and he's fine with dancing either part.

#shadowhunters #malec #malec fic #alec lightwood #magnus bane #mine #echo's fanfiction #map out a world #shbingo #hmdiscord #malec discord server #autistic alec lightwood

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robbyrobinson · 3 years

Photo

OWL HOUSE X CTHULHU MYTHOS: GODS AWAKEN (XIX)

Odalia walked into Emperor Belos’ throne room and prostrated herself before him and Nyarlathotep. “Lord Nyarlathotep, I have retrieved the book.”

Luz and Amity awoke in the original bodies and sprung back to life. “Uh? What happened?”

Amity groaned and fell backward her head throbbing with pain. “Why is my head spinning?” Her cheeks grew green and bloated out of the instinctive urge of retching whatever sour contents were churning in her stomach.

“So that is apple blood,” Luz spoke to herself, “after this, I’m never going to try that stuff again.”

Amity and Luz stared at each other surprised to find that they were back in their own bodies. They waved their hands in front of their faces and squeezed their arms until they took on a bluish hue. Their probing would only strengthen the notion that they were truly back in their bodies. But one thought came to their minds: if they were borrowing the bodies at the time, then what happened to the original host’s souls?

“Welcome back to the Isles, human.”

Belos had gotten off his throne and his large frame towered over the two. Unlike Odalia’s height at around 6 feet, Belos stood at a startling 8 feet. He eclipsed obviously Kikimora, his most trusted servant and right hand, but he was also an imposing figure when it came to the members of his imperial guards. This only accentuated the perceived majesty and authority he encouraged from his worshippers.

Luz stared at the Emperor with contempt manifesting on her face. “Belos.”

“I see that you are still bitter over our last encounter?” Emperor Belos asked. It was more a rhetorical question, really, but one he made out of amusement.

“Where’s Eda?” Luz asked.

Emperor Belos raised his hand. “Unharmed, I assure you, but we must keep her from interfering with our plans.”

He looked at the murals depicting the wild witches. “As you may have guessed I had...taken care of the wild magic practitioners...one by one.”

Luz internally shivered at the implications of what he was entailing. He raised his staff and carefully traced an invisible line through the savage witches on the murals. “The Day of Unity is now upon us.”

“How dare you send your hideous monsters to attack my home?” Luz demanded. Her fists shook and turned red to match the increasing anger in her face.

Belos chuckled. “It was more of a method of ringing you out; I knew that because of your compassionate heart that you would rather give yourself up than allow more of those rats to die in your stead.”

“Well, you got me now,” Luz stated never taking her eyes off Belos’, “so leave the Earth alone.”

Belos tilted his head. “The Titan proclaims that the Earth must be laid to waste before it returns to its full powers. There is no stopping the inevitable. The Earth will bleed a deep, gushing red, before it crumbles away to its slow, miserable, pitiable demise.”

Luz fought the urge of drawing a glyph to cave Belos’ head in. “Mami..”

Belos’ eyes flickered and glowed. “Oh, your mother? She is here.”

Luz’s eyes shot up. “She is.”

The metallic fingers of his gloves came together to create an echoing snap. Warden Wrath walked into the throne room alongside the Owl Spy. Luz’s eyes widened, her mouth hanging agape. A middle-aged woman with dark brown hair and tan skin was brought in with chains. A metal ring was fixed around her waist, and the heavy metal shackles around her ankles echoed on the floor in miserable tune.

She wore glasses topped with a red frame. From what Luz could see, she was a continually tired woman with heavy bags behind her glasses. Her hair was in a disarray as well as her uniform, one of those outfits you would see in hospital settings. Tears were crudely decorated on the woman’s uniform, particularly towards the bottom where the hem of her shirt was.

“Mom?”

The woman looked up to see Luz running towards her. “Luz!?”

Luz jumped and practically tackled her mother. “Is it really you?”

“It is me,” she stated. She tried to hug her daughter back with her limited capabilities. “I have been so worried about you.”

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Luz said, looking down. “I didn’t actually go to that summer camp that you wanted me to.”

“I am just delighted to see that you’re okay,” she replied, “when those letters stopped coming in, I almost had a mental breakdown.”

Luz felt moisture building in her eyes. She hated that she had to put her mother through that, but she had no other option in order to keep Belos from getting to Earth. She knew that at some point, the letters that she would send her Mom would soon drain up, but she was the optimist believing that she could find a way back home before her mother had the chance to worry.

Amity scanned the woman Luz was hugging. “Who is that, Luz?”

Luz looked back at the young witch her smile shining brighter than before. “This is my Mom, Amity.”

Her mother gave a smile, but it was more forced given the circumstances. Amity’s thoughts spiraled out of control. “My future mother-in-law?” she asked.

“What was that?”

Amity quickly caught herself. “Um, your mother and my mother in the same room.”

Luz’s eyebrow peaked. “Why are you here, Mom?”

Emperor Belos interrupted the reunion disgracefully. “Yes, why don’t you tell my grandchild why you are here, Camila?”

The room grew quiet with not even the sound of a pin dropping on the floor could spur any response. Luz eyed Belos sternly. “Grandchild? What are you getting at?”

“My, Camila, you kept this secret about yourself successfully hidden for years?” Belos asked again.

“Mom, please, tell me what is going on.”

Camila sighed. She exhaled sharply now looking at her feet in deep shame. “Luz, you love the Good Witch Azura books, don’t you?”

Luz nodded. “Me and Amity both; we bonded over them.”

“What if I were to tell you that there is some truth to those books?”

Luz couldn’t understand what her mother was saying at first, but it did slowly start to dawn on her. “Are you saying that you’re Azura?”

Camila snickered a bit and shook her head. “No, no; Azura is a fictional character...but I did use creative liberties when it came with writing the books.”

The thought that the events of the books, regardless of whether they came about as fictious stretches of the actual events, crossed Luz’s mind. “Why did Belos call me his grandchild?”

Camila sighed. “When I was around your age, I found myself in the demon realm much like you – I can’t for the life of me remember how if it was through some door or other means – but I was a foreigner in a world that discriminated against humans.”

Luz listened carefully not noticing that Odalia was singling for her daughter to be taken away.

“One day, Emperor Belos discovered me with some old scraps of metal and trash and decided to adopt me for reasons I did not understand at the time. He told me that humans were unable to practice magic on the Boiling Isles because of them lacking the bile sac necessary for it, so he placed a bit of his evil, dark magic into my body and took me as a protégé.”

“So that was why I was able to see those glyphs?” Luz asked.

“After being trained under him for some time, he told me of the Day of Unity. It was some weird, cultish holiday I had initially taken it. But I soon found out what intentions he had for the Earth, and I fought against him. With his own magic surging through my veins, I easily overpowered the Emperor and...I might have caused him to be in his current unhealthy state of being because I can sense now that Belos is slowly dying.”

Luz saw discarded palisman carcasses around Belos’ throne. “Was that why you wanted me to stop being obsessed with fantasy books and magic?”

Camila nodded her head. “It was a selfish thing for me to do, but I wanted to protect you from the knowledge that such a world existed.” She looked at her feet again likely fearful of meeting her daughter’s eyes. “That was why I was hopeful that the trip would remove that desire so you would never come to this world.”

Luz didn’t know what to say after being given such a bombshell. Her mom knew about the Boiling Isles because she had been there at some point only to somehow escape once things got sour. Now she learned that Belos took her mother in and how she was now his granddaughter. She had his malevolent magic flowing through her body. Her heart was pumping his unholy blood into her veins and through her bloodstream. It made considerable sense because, as was explained to her by Eda years ago, humans could not practice magic.

“Luz?” Camila asked.

Luz was still speechless and incapable of reaction. Belos laughed again and tapped Camila’s forehead with the staff. “I was hoping that I could take your daughter in and have her as a protégé to turn her against you, but that plan went awry.”

He glared at Warden Wrath. “Take her to the execution site.”

Warden Wrath shook his head and grabbed a hold of Camila. Camila’s legs shook but were heavily weighed down by the shackles. “Luz!”

Luz tried to run after Warden Wrath, but Odalia shot a blue stream at Luz; it ripped into the floor dividing it in half. “No wrong step, or I will slice you in two as well.”

“Mom!” Luz shouted. She shot daggers from her eyes at Belos. “Unhand her at once!”

Belos shook his head. “The sins of the past must be made to pay for.” He exited the throne room before turning around once he reached the exit behind the beating heart of the Titan. “I’ll have my master take it from here.”

Nyarlathotep, once more in his Black Pharaoh guise, approached the girl. “Hello once again, Luz.”

“It’s you!” Luz shouted and pointing her finger at accusingly. “Was this all your idea!?”

“I’m not a man who has pre-made plans just hanging there collecting dust,” Nyarlathotep said with a half-serious tone. “Odalia, give her the Necronomicon.”

Odalia’s eyes shot up. “Lord Nyarlathotep, why would-”

“That is an order,” Nyarlathotep replied. His voice went down a couple octaves.

Shaking, Odalia handed the Necronomicon to the human girl and made her leave. Luz had a weird feeling about this. “What game is this?”

“When you are literally older than time itself, it’s always best to play a game to take a load off your mind,” Nyarlathotep answered.

Nyarlathotep snapped his fingers. Above him was a column wherein a trap door opened. From there, she could see a large, glass cage descending. She squinted her eyes to make out the figures. Eda, King, and Lilith were inside. At the side of the cage was Hypnos, once more in his youthful appearance, flowers and all. He held the piece of horn in his hand.

“Eda!” Luz proclaimed.

Eda looked up happy to hear her apprentice’s voice. “Kid, you made it!”

King and Lilith also turned their glances to Luz. King jumped up and down much like how a dog does whenever they are happy to see their owner come back. Lilith smiled as well, but it was a small one. Luz slammed against the cage’s walls. “Youch!” Luz rubbed her injured nose with her hands. “You guys are alive?”

“Nyarlathotep took us as prisoners and had us as bargaining chips for you,” Lilith explained.

“Well, don’t worry, I’ll have you out lickety split!”

“Wait, Luz!” Eda screamed.

Luz smashed her fist on the glass only for it to bounce back. Thinking, Luz looked into the bag to find something she could use to break the cage. She scribbled glyphs on paper and activated them, but it only made the magical glass stronger. Luz turned to her bag again this time drawing out the jar containing the shoggoth. She tossed it at the cage, but, like with the other objects she tried to use, it rebounded and skyrocketed off the glass. It shot across the room and exited out the door when Kikimora opened it.

“Luz, you can’t break the glass; we all tried to break it ourselves, but there’s no use,” Eda said at last.

“There has to be something..” Luz lamented.

“Aye, there is a way, my dear,” Nyarlathotep answered.

“Why should I trust you?” Luz asked in a matter-of-fact way.

“The glass can either be broken two ways; either I can use my powers to free the three captives, or an Elder God can destroy it.”

“Well, I want you to free them!” Luz declared.

Nyarlathotep held his finger up. “Quid pro quo, my dear, quid pro quo.”

“Squid pro what?” Luz reiterated.

“I will free them and you will all go on to live happy lives if you gave me the book.”

Luz held the demonic book between her arms. “But I can’t just give the book over to someone like you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re evil; I know somehow you were responsible for the attack on the Earth; a lot of people could die if I gave you this book.”

“Are a million lives more important to you than the lives of your mentor; her sister; and your pet?”

“I am not a pet!” King remarked.

Nyarlathotep ignored the demon and kept speaking. “It would be an unfortunate occasion if they were ripped away from you.”

“Nyarlathotep, before you do your business with the three captives, do allow me the opportunity to give this demon his horn back.”

Nyarlathotep looked at the Elder God with suspicion, but flicked his hand. “At least he should be presentable before dying I presume.”

Nyarlathotep snapped his fingers allowing a small hole to form in the wall. Hypnos slipped the horn into the hole and it resealed after he removed his hand. Eda eyed the horn piece with curiosity. “It looks like it’s the size of your horn, King.”

She dropped the horn in King’s lap and he sniffed it. “Feels like it; smells like it to...how did I lose it again?”

He shrugged and dropped it over the crack of his horn. Before he could say anything further, the missing horn piece slipped in like a jigsaw puzzle. A green light glowed around the horn acting as an adhesive glue. In a flash, everything became crystal clear to King as his memories came blasting in at full force. An overtaking sensation. It all came flashing at once: the woman. The large, bat-like monstrosity with the one, three-lobed, bulging eye. The screams. And the smoky vapor – now he could perceive that it materialized together to form the appearance of a man. A tall man wearing a dark cloak. One who was bereft of any strand of hair and his skin darker than the darkest night. The green orb came out from a spell circle the hideous man drew. His mouth was stretched inhumanly widely into a twisted, ghastly grin.

“Well, what do we have here?” he asked.

King sprawled on the floor of the cage sweat beads rolling down his skull head. He retched but nothing came up. Panic was building within him writhing in anguish for release. He looked at Nyarlathotep with complete hatred. “You were the one who killed my Mom, weren’t you?”

Nyarlathotep looked at him with an amused smile. “You have to be more specific than that, child; I may be eternal, but that doesn’t mean I have an internal memory box that catalogues every individual scream.”

Luz gripped the Necronomicon with anger. “So you killed King’s mother and cursed him?” She looked at the despairing demon. “And you decided to take it as a memento to remember your kill?”

Nyarlathotep shrugged. “As I have said, I cannot be held to remember every one of my little endeavors.”

Nyarlathotep snapped his fingers again. This time, the top of the cage opened with a gush of running water dropping down. Eda and the others were not too freaked out in that moment, but they could quickly see that the more water flowing into their cell, it was accumulating quickly and already taking the shape of the cage. They looked at Nyarlathotep who in turn gave them a look of humor. They banged their fists against the cage’s walls, but it only rebounded on them.

“Nyarlathotep! Stop this nonsense!” Luz yelled. “You’ll drown them.”

“I will free them,” Nyarlathotep promised, “but you will have to give me the Necronomicon in return.”

“And how do I know that you won’t go against your promise?” Luz asked reasonably. It made sense for her to doubt the Crawling Chaos’ claims, but in her peripheral vision, she saw that the water was already up Lilith and Eda’s waists. King jumped on top of Eda’s head to keep his body dry, but this had the negative effect of pushing Eda deeper into the rushing water.

“I’m afraid that they don’t have long for this world, Luz.”

Eda and Lilith were up to their necks. “I always thought it would end by some overdose on potion,” Eda lamented.

Concern was in Lilith’s eyes, but she chuckled at the dark joke. “That’s my Edalyn, alright.”

Luz found herself in internal conflict. She truly wanted to save the three roommates she had, but she couldn’t just hand a book of such cosmic power to the bad guy. Nyarlathotep seemed to read her mind when he spoke again.

“I feel that you think that if something were to befall your teacher, you would be lost in the world.”

Luz squinted. “What?”

“If you were to give the book to me, I will make you my personal protégé; you will learn about all the secrets of this world and truly become the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles. Leagues above your mentor, and even Belos himself. You can reign by my side as I destroy this world and remake it befitting to our image. The universe and the gods themselves will look at you in favor and you would never have the need to want again. Is that a deal?”

Luz could admit that Nyarlathotep’s deal did have a kernel of her interest. Knowledge over everything could come in handy. While she did love Eda dearly, Eda was at a loss now because of her magic being at an all-time low. Maybe with Nyarlathotep’s help, she could learn a way of curing Eda of her curse and subsequently return her back to her previous state. As she thought, she took another glance at the cage now taken aback. The three captives were completely submerged in the water and were desperately hitting the walls of the cage in hopes of breaking them. Liquid was filling their lungs, cutting their oxygen supply sharply. They moved their legs back and forth in a fishy motion. Yet for every strike and punch they could muster, the cage’s walls jiggled back from the brunt force.

Luz turned to Nyarlathotep. “No; I refuse.”

Before Nyarlathotep’s eyes, Luz flipped the Necronomicon over revealing several fire glyphs on the back. Nyarlathotep’s eyes bulged from their sockets. “Mortal, please reconsider!”

Luz took another glance at Eda and the others and saw that their movements were screeching to a halt and they sunk towards the ground of the cage. Luz had made her decision. She slammed her hand on the back of the Necronomicon, and it erupted in flames.

“No!” Nyarlathotep screamed.

The flames licked the ancient, crisp pages of the Necronomicon and exploded. A shrill hiss filled the air to indicate that the malevolent spirit lurking in the pages of the banned book was dying. Dark green, eldritch smoke crawled out of the embers of the fire and ascended skyward. Luz heard the pages crackle and pop reminding her of the sweet smell of fresh popcorn like the kind you could get at movie theaters. With one final death throe, the Necronomicon crumbled into a heap of ashes.

Luz looked at Nyarlathotep spitefully. “You have lost, Nyarlathotep.”

Instead of seeing his hurt, irritated face, Nyarlathotep was once more smiling. He chuckled deeply from the darkest, deepest regions of his stomach. He held his hands over the burning heap that was once the Necronomicon and absorbed a black light that suddenly appeared. He grew larger with his arms and legs becoming more muscular and pronounced. His abdomen became gargantuan as well to accentuate his broad shoulders. No more did he resemble a human, even if a crude mockery of one. He was now a hulking monster with rows upon rows of sharp, jagged teeth.

A wave of dark power rocked Emperor Belos’ throne room and empire. It shattered the glass cage containing Eda, Lilith and King, and they were washed out on the floor. Eda coughed up the water in a wheeze. “That was close.”

Before she said anything else, she saw Nyarlathotep tower before them. Alerted, she looked at Luz. “Kid, did you destroy the book or not?”

“Yes, Eda, I did, but...something came up that I did not anticipate.”

The ceiling shook and debris started to sprinkle down. From the point of origin, the dark wave of evil magic wreaked havoc through the Isles due to its intensity. Many of the imperial guards were caught in the wave and effortlessly disintegrated. Buildings and houses crumbled from their destroyed foundations compelling the denizens to evacuate from their houses lest they were the casualties. Emperor Belos hid away alongside Kikimora.

“Sire, what happened!?” Kikimora asked.

“It is nothing to be concerned about, Kiki,” Emperor Belos replied. He eyed his throne room. “So it did work as planned.”

Nyarlathotep cackled his deep, monotonous voice shaking the floor. “It has been a thousand years, but it was completely worth it!”

Luz couldn’t comprehend what had happened. “But..but I destroyed the Necronomicon; you saw it.”

“I had already overseen the notion that you would refuse to rule by my side, but the good thing about it is that even if you accepted, it wouldn’t have mattered. I would still have reclaimed the powers that I lost. Even if you destroyed the book, that would entail that my powers would be returned to me either way.”

Luz looked down. “Then it is truly hopeless.”

Nyarlathotep raised his large scepter. “Before I lay waste to this world, I did promise Boscha that I would humor her little battle with your friend; may as well set the stage for it.”

“I’ll find a way to stop you,” Luz declared. It was a heat of the moment thing, but she truly did mean it.

Nyarlathotep chuckled. “After Boscha wins, I guess I’ll honor my deal with Belos and destroy the Earth for good measure.”

With that, Nyarlathotep transformed into a black wind and swirled out of the throne room cackling his head off.

#cthulhu #cthulhu mythos #mythos #owl house #the owl house #owlhouse #lovecraft #nyarlathotep #luz noceda #emperor belos

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pixelated-pogues · 4 years

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All in My Head (j.b)

Inspired by: All in My Head by Tori Kelly Requested: No, but it’s the first time in two weeks that I’ve been inspired to write a fic, so I thought I’d go for it. Summary: You’ve been crushing on your best friend John B for ages, and thought that his feelings were reciprocated, only to be blindsided when another girl comes into the mix. Warnings: Swearing, stray’s from what happened in the show, angst --------------------------------------- I see you with her and it crushes me inside guess I should stop thinkin’ about you all the time

I walk into the Wreck, Kie’s arm slung carelessly over my shoulder as we laugh about JJ and Pope’s childish bickering over who would could sweet talk their way out of getting in trouble with cops.

“Pope, you’re so by the book that you’d end up confessing everything to them before they could question anyone else. You can’t convince me otherwise,” JJ argues, a sassy look on his face. I shake my head at their pointless banter, tuning out Pope’s rebuttal as my eyes scan the room to search for John B. My heart rate spikes at the thought of him, eyes trailing over everyone in the restaurant before landing on him. Confusion floods my system, my heart dropping at the sight of him seated at a table with Sarah Cameron, his arm lazily draped over the back of her chair while she giggles at something he said.

I want to tear my eyes away from them, pushing down the hurt in my chest, but I can’t. All I can think about is the way John B is looking at her, touching her, in the same way he has been with me.

“Y/n, are you alright? You look like you saw a ghost,” Pope asks, keeping me from completely sinking into myself. Kie nudges me slightly, a concerned look on her face as the three of them stare at me.

“Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” I stutter, forcing a convincing smile. “I was just zoning out.”

“You’re always zoning out,” JJ jokes, Pope joining in on his laughter before they rowdily move through the crowd to get to the table with John B. I move to follow after them, but Kie’s hand meets my wrist, stopping me from moving any further.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I wasn’t exactly expecting to see John B ogling over Sarah either, but I also don’t have the same feelings for him that you do,” she questions, hinting to the nights we’ve stayed up talking about him.

“I’m fine, Kie,” I state with a small shrug, straightening up at the sight of her unconvinced expression. “I promise.” I rest my hand on her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze before taking a breath and stalking toward the table.

“Took you guys long enough, I’m starving,” JJ groans upon our arrival at the table. I fake a laugh, moving to take a seat next to him, ignoring the fact that it’s seated across from Sarah.

“You’re so dramatic,” Kie tells him, finding the empty seat next to me. “You guys just sat down.” I muster a laugh with the rest of the group, fiddling with my silverware as I stare at the menu in front of me in an attempt to keep my focus on anything other than the couple sitting in front of me. Everyone falls into typical conversation in front of me, Sarah easily fitting in with the group dynamic, while I remain quiet, adding small comments whenever my name is brought up.

“Okay so, you made it sound like there was an urgent reason for meeting you here,” Pope begins, after the waiter took our order.

“Yeah,” JJ agrees, leaning closer to the center of the table and lowering his voice. “Is it about the 4 mill?”

“No,” John B responds, a light laugh falling from his lips. “It’s 400 mill, by the way, and it has nothing to do with that.”

“Then why was it so urgent?” Pope pipes back in, leaning back in his seat.

“I guess it wasn’t,” John B replies, shooting Sarah a soft smile. My heart lurches at the endearing look in his eyes, before he turns to meet my gaze briefly. “I was just tired of hiding it.”

“Hiding what,” I question, dread filling my system. I mentally prepare for his answer, knowing full well that he’s talking about Sarah. Why else would she be here?

“I know it’s weird timing, but,” he pauses, smiling as Sarah sends him a reassuring look. “we’re together.” Sarah smiles brightly at his statement, slightly leaning closer to him. I stare at the two of them in shock, trying to mask the hurt radiating from my chest. I take notice of the way John B refuses to meet my gaze, taking time to soak in everyone else’s reaction.

“No shit,” JJ laughs, taking a sip of his drink. “Welcome to the dark side, Cameron.”

“I’m not sure what you see in him, but welcome to the group,” Pope adds, leaning forward so that he could make eye contact with Sarah.

Kie mumbles her own congratulations before her hand moves to rest on my thigh, squeezing it reassuringly. I shoot her a quick nod, my lips curving into a lighthearted smile.

“That’s really great guys,” I tell them, smiling at the happy look on Sarah’s face. The conversation shifts to everyone asking them questions about their relationship while I silently contemplate how I can casually leave without raising any suspicions. The sight of Sarah and John B curled into each other across the table from me putting a bitter taste in my mouth.

Maybe this is what I needed Maybe this is a sign Maybe I’ve been blind to reality

“I think we need to have a celebratory night on the HMS Pogue. Give Sarah a sneak peak of what it’s like being a pogue,” JJ announces, turning to face the group as we walk out of the Wreck.

“I’d love that,” Sarah agrees, John B’s hand slipping into hers after he let go of the door. I inwardly cringe at the affection, remaining silent as everyone else agrees.

“Y/n, you down,” John B asks, addressing me for the first time since we’ve been together. He holds a light expression, his eyes hopeful as they bore into mine.

“Oh, um,” I pause for a minute, silently weighing my options. “I can’t tonight. My mom needs help doing inventory at the shop.” It isn’t a lie. Friday nights are inventory days, but that’s never been a responsibility that she’s given me. She knows that my Friday nights are spent with my friends, and she likes to respect that rather than making me work.

“Really? I’m sure you can get out of that, your mom never asks you to work on Friday’s,” I inwardly roll my eyes at Pope’s statement, silently cursing him for bringing it up.

“Really,” I lie, checking my watch. “Amanda and Avery called in so I’ve got to be there. I should probably get going.”

“We’ll see you later then,” John B hums, his shoulders dropping in defeat. “We can come pick you up when you’re done if you want. Maybe have a bonfire on the beach?”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll be there pretty late. You guys have fun tonight,” I dismiss his offer quickly, simply wanting to go home and wallow by myself for awhile. Everyone drops the subject, Kie giving me a tight hug before we all bid our goodbyes. I watch as they all pile into the van, waving one last time before spinning on my heels to start the trek back to my house.

My shoulders slump as soon as the van is out of my line of sight. Images of John B’s arm casually draped over Sarah’s shoulder’s replaying in my head.

I feel so stupid. Of course he didn’t like me back. We’ve been best friends for years, nothing more. Obviously I thought too deeply of the soft moments we’ve shared the past few months.

Every little glance my way Every time you wanted to hang You seemed so interested Could you tell me, was it real or was it all in my head?

I mentally scold myself, feeling so stupid at the thought that John B actually felt the same way about me. He made me feel so sure of it. The way that his eyes always lingered on me longer than anyone else, his hands always dancing across my skin delicately whenever they could, our late night conversations under the stars tucked into each others arms as the hammock swayed with every gentle movement, how time always seemed to escape us when we were together, and so many other aspects of our friendship had me completely convinced that he liked me too.

It always felt so real with him. Somehow he always made having a safe place seem easy. The quiet moments we shared with or without the other pogues around always had my mind reeling at the unspoken agreement that I felt we had when it came to our feelings for each other.

Now I’m sitting here, sulking in my bedroom alone while he’s with someone else, feeling completely embarrassed and stupid for thinking that we were anything more than friends.

I fall asleep, caught in a mental battle of trying to decipher whether the way his feelings always seemed to match my own was real or simply a concept that I made up in my head.

----

She’s so pretty, you two look so great Time for me to move on now It was probably just a silly crush anyway

Kie’s knee knocks against mine as she sits down in the empty spot next to me, the fire in front of us casting shadows against her soft skin. I shake out of my daze, pulling my eyes away from the flames to focus on her. A tipsy smile etches on my face at the sight of her gentle expression.

“You okay?” My smile falters at her question, eyes falling on the couple cuddled against each other on the other side of the fire. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

“I’m fine,” I nod, taking a sip of the beer in my hands. I bump my shoulder with hers softly. Trying to lighten my own mood. “I’m just trying to get used to seeing them together is all.”

“Me too,” she responds, toying with the bottle in her own hands. “How are you doing with all of this?”

“Not great,” I admit, averting my eyes to the sand beneath our feet. I push my hair away from my face, gathering my thoughts for a minute. “I mean, she’s gorgeous and clearly makes him so happy but seeing them together makes me feel sick to my stomach.”

“Y/n,” she pouts, a sympathetic look crossing her features.

“It’s okay,” I assure her, waving it off. “It was probably just a silly crush, but it’s going to take time to move on.”

“I’ll be here through it all,” she promises jokingly, but I can hear the seriousness in her tone. “I like Sarah, but John B is an idiot for not seeing what he’s missing with you.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle, my eyes hesitantly moving to look at him again. “He is.” I’m surprised to catch his eye when I look across the fire. Sarah was engrossed in a conversation with Pope whle John B’s focus steadied on me. He shoots me a soft smile, his eyes twinkling when I return it. My heart rate speeds up momentarily, a sense of longing settling in my chest before his attention goes back to the girl enveloped in his arms.

But I just can’t help but think That we, we could have had something Have I really been blind to reality? Baby tell me

I blink allowing my thoughts to wander as Kie stands to grab another drink. The small interaction with John B causing my mind to reel with endless scenarios and memories of what we used to be.

“We’re always going to be close, right?” I murmured into the silence of the room, my voice carrying for a moment.

John B shifted me so that I was facing him, his arms never leaving their position curled around my waist.

“Of course we will,” he promised, his breath fanning over my face. “You’ll always be my girl.” My heart hammered in my chest at the way the phrase rolled off of his tongue so easily. Him vocalizing that he sees me as “his girl” enough to make me putty in his arms.

That was the turning point in our friendship for me. The moment that the soft glances and one on one’s were more than just two friends hanging out. It seemed that he had that understanding too, he always wore a content smile when I was around, humming whenever my skin so much as brushed his.

All things considered, feeling as though my feelings were reciprocated didn’t feel so silly. It seemed like we had something going on after that moment, and I can’t help but get lost in the thought of what we could have been.

I shake myself out of the rabbit hole of thoughts threatening to pull me under, not wanting to get caught in the mind games. Maybe we were something, or maybe we could have been, but his choice is apparent.

Rather than focusing on what we could have been I begin focusing on who I want to be without him.

-----------------------------------------------

A/n: Hello! This is the first fic that I’ve written and posted in a HOT minute. It’s kind of short, and definitely isn’t my best work, but I was inspired by the song so I thought I’d give it a try.

I hope you guys like it! Feel free to give feedback if you want. Thanks for reading!!

Taglist: @jjtheangel @thelocalpogue @kitluvs1 @lavenderpopeficrecs @maaybanks @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge @drewstarkey @maybankdreams @ssjiara @bluebirdsbluebells @spilledtee @outcrbanx @maebanks @poguemacking

If you want to be added to my taglist, feel free to let me know!

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theheartsmistakes · 4 years

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The Last Night Part VI

(Author’s Notes: I know how much you guys love reading my rambling thoughts when really all you want is to get to the story, so here I am giving you exactly what you all want… We take a big jump backwards in this section due to @daisy-myangel (who messaged me regarding a reference I made to Lucie and Cordelia walking in on Grace and James) so I thought I’d write a short(ish) part about what that incident looked like. It’s written from James’ perspective because I feel like we already have a clear idea of what Cordelia experienced. Hope you all are doing well. Thank you for being patient with me. This is a long one, so hopefully I’ve made up for the wait a little. It’s not as dramatic as I had though because I’ve decided to split it up, rather than rushing towards the end. I’m still not 100% happy with this section, it feels kind of rushed, because it was, but it’s all just for fun anyway. I hope you enjoy it. As always, if you liked this please hit the heart, the reblog, give it some love in the comments for me to look upon and cry happily over, and give me a follow for more updates.)

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

.Part VI.

James patted Balios’ neck as he asked the horse to drop from a steady canter to a slow walk up the cobblestone path of his aunt Cecily and Gabriel’s manor. Steady drops of rain splattered on his shoulders as the thick clouds in the sky threatened to open up above him. The night was newly dark with echoes of blue still present in the west where the sun had just set. Witch light burned in the windows at the face of the manor offering the only light to the cloud covered night. James looked up at the last window on the left glowing white and caught eyes with the shadow sitting on the seat below the window sill. His chest constricted and his breath caught in his throat as he felt the all too familiar invisible string pull taut in his center.

Grace.

Before he could dismount Balios, his earlier intentions for confronting Grace about his feeling for Cordelia were long forgotten and his body felt as if it were being pulled towards the window without his control. His boots crunched on the gravel as he ran past the front of the manor, abandoning the horse to eat from the perfectly manicured lawns.

James had grown quite skilled in ascending the ivy trellis due to the hundreds of times he and Matthew had done it to kidnap Christopher after his father banished him to his room after an accident involving one of Christopher’s experiments and something irreplaceable in the house.

It seemed Grace had been expecting him. The window was cracked open slightly. James was instantly assaulted with the smell of her: sweet vanilla, warm bergamot, and pear. It wrapped around him and nearly made his grip loosen from the windowsill. With a quick shake of his head, disheveling his hair further, he hooked his foot in the windowsill and pulled himself the rest of the way through landing flat on his back on the floor and staring up at the crown molding of Grace’s newly reformed bedroom.

“My knight.” A soft, sweet lilt came from his right. He turned his head to find Grace sitting on top of her thick silk embroidered comforter, stroking her loose, glossy, blonde hair with a tarnished silver handled hairbrush that she handled like a fine weapon. Her silver eyes held all the amusement of a judgmental cat.

James let out a gust of air he’d been holding in his chest. A smile broke across his face as he rolled back up to his feet. Once steady, he readjusted his vest around his waist and brushed his nervous hands on his trousers.

“You shouldn’t be here,” said Grace, and set the brush on her bed.

“I know.” Much to his dismay, his voice cracked. Quickly, he cleared his throat and took a hesitant step towards her. “Yet, you don’t seem surprised to see me.”

“I’m not.” She blinked slowly. “In fact, I’m glad you came.”

His eyebrows bounced. “You are?”

“Yes.” She stood and her light blue tea gown flowed down and gently skimmed the ground. The straps over her shoulders were slightly too big, sliding off her shoulders to expose her bare shoulders, her skin the color of flour and just as soft. James forced himself to stare at the cupid’s bow of Grace’s top lip; unfortunately, that wasn’t helping him.

“There is something I have been meaning to speak to you about.” She looked down at her hands. “I believe it might be the same reason that you are here as well.”

I’m here for you, he thought. To be with you.

“I’m to be married soon and you to Cordelia,” said Grace as she turned her shoulder to him and walked towards the fireplace burning low behind its gate. “I think its best if we don’t meet like this anymore. It’s not proper and think of the scandal if anyone were to find out.”

James didn’t care about the scandal. He had only one thought in his mind. “Why are you marrying him?”

“Why are you marrying her?”

James grimaced. “Cordelia and I, we’re only friends. I’ve told you that. She helped me, provided me with an alibi after I burned down… well, you know, and I felt I owed her a favor to keep her from ruin.”

“Is that really all?” Grace looked back at him and his chest ached at her expression. “It’s only I’ve seen the way that you look at her and the way she looks at you. It’s lovely. You seem happy with her.”

“It’s not real.” James took a step towards Grace, but stopped. “My heart is yours. It’s always been yours.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as if something pained her.

“Grace?” He reached for her, wrapping his hands around her arms, but just as soon as he did, she pulled free from him.

“Please don’t say that.” She moved away again. It seemed she was always retreating in some way or another. “I don’t want you to say that.”

“But it’s true.”

“It’s not.” Grace took a deep breath and wound her arms around herself. “It’s never been true. James there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“Whatever it is, Grace.” James took a solitary step towards her. “You can tell me. It won’t change the way that I feel about you. Nothing will.”

“Will you do something for me first?” Grace asked, but her eyes remained cast down at her feet, as if she were ashamed of something.

“Anything.”

She hesitated a moment longer and he thought he might burst from anticipation. “Will you kiss me?” She didn’t look at him when she asked. If James was being honest, she almost looked angry.

But she was asking him to kiss her—here in her bedroom— something she hadn’t done in a long time. But there was a feeling deep in his gut, muted by his desire to kiss her, but telling him that this wasn’t right.

“Is that what you want?” James asked and moved towards her.

She nodded and turned so they were facing each other.

James pulled her arms away from where they were wound around her waist and let his fingers slid up her arms as he placed her hands on his shoulders. Her eyes were locked on where his shirt collar was undone and left open exposing more of his throat. He placed his hands on either side of her face, gently lifting her face with his thumbs underneath her chin.

She closed her eyes and lifted her face to him, waiting.

The corner of James’ mouth lifted slightly and he slowly lowered his mouth to capture hers.

He had forgotten how much smaller she was than him. He had to bend his knees to meet her mouth. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and for a moment as their mouths touched he remembered rich brown eyes looking up at him with admiration, silky tendrils of auburn hair, supple lips that moved hungrily across his, soft curves that arched into his hands as they explored. A maddening, all encompassing desire that nearly shattered all of his restraints at simply holding Cordelia in his arms.

Stop this, he told himself, and oddly, he saw Cordelia in his mind, felt her hand on his arm, pulling at him. Stop.

He had been too late— the door to Grace’s bedroom had been flung wide, and Lucie stood on the threshold. Beside him was Cordelia, elegant in a champagne gown and matching jacket, looking from James to Grace with wide, surprised eyes. And just as quickly as they had appeared, Cordelia reached forward and pulled the door closed again.

Grace slid away from him. “I’m sorry,” she said and covered her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

James hadn’t really heard her. He’d raced forward and opened the door only to find Lucie staring up at him. Her face flushed and outraged. He shouldered past his sister towards the stairs.

He caught Cordelia at the landing and pulled her to a stop.

“Cordelia,” he begged. “Please, let me explain.”

Cordelia blinked. “You promised.” Her voice broke as she looked up at him. “‘When I make a promise, I keep it’ that’s what you told me. But you broke your promise, James.”

He let go of her as if she had burnt him and stepped aside as she ran towards the doors and disappeared into the night just as the storm began.

* * *

James stared down at the bracelet around his wrist, twisting and turning it until his skin underneath had turned red from the friction. Will and Tessa had left with Magnus to contact the Silent Brothers in hope that they might have some idea to assist them in the removal of the bracelet. There was also the concern of an unpredictable, unstable, and possibly dangerous Grace Blackthorn living with Cecily and Gabriel that they felt should be addressed immediately. With Lucie off despondent in the kitchen, Matthew and James found themselves alone in the library.

“It’ll be off soon,” said Matthew and clapped a hand on James’ shoulder. “And then you can write to Cordelia and beg her for forgiveness. I’ll help you write it myself.”

James looked down at the bracelet, his expression impassive.

Matthew, trained to be in-tune with his parabatai’s emotions, felt James' turmoil as if it were his own. “That is only if you wish for her forgiveness.”

James moved out from underneath Matthew’s hand and sauntered over to the fireplace. His right hand still encircled the bracelet. “Of course I do, but…”

“But what?” Matthew asked. “If you so much as utter the name Grace, I will strike you with your own hand. Are you bloody daft? She manacled you, she put you under a spell for the past five years, you can’t seriously be considering—“

“I’m not,” said James, “but I still feel this unwavering need to speak with her. To let her explain herself.”

“That’s just the bracelet talking,” said Matthew.

“Maybe, but that’s just it, I don’t know what is real anymore Matthew and I owe it to Cordelia to be one hundred percent sure of my affections before I impose upon her life again.”

The memory of her standing in the doorway after walking in on him and Grace felt like an assault to his chest by a blunt object. He’d wanted to run after her. He could see himself doing it, chasing her out into the rain, climbing into the carriage with her so she would be forced to talk to him, forced to let him beg for forgiveness. He wanted to do it, but Grace.

“You two aren’t still quarreling are you?” Anna asked as she kicked open the door with the heel of her thick boot and sauntered into the library leading an exasperated Thomas and Christopher with the right lens of his glasses broken… again.

Anna picked up Church from the chair in front of the fire and curled him up in her arms like an infant. “Is this about Cordelia and Alastair leaving?”

James and Matthew didn’t look at one another.

“We’re not quarreling,” said Matthew with an obvious clip in his tone, “but if we were it’d have nothing to do with Alastair.”

“What’s the plan?” asked Anna. “How are we going to bring Cordelia back?”

“What can we do?” Matthew shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “Their carriage is probably halfway across town by now and there is no convincing them to stay.”

“Do calm down Matthew.” Anna waved her hand at the drink tray. “Make yourself a drink.”

“I can’t. I’m off it. Clean. A proper rung out cloth.” He dropped into one of the wingback chairs and let his head hang back to look at the ceiling.

“Bravo,” Anna chided as she scratched under Church’s chin. “What an awful time to attempt sobriety, but still, bravo.”

“What are you all doing here?” James asked.

“I sent word to them when Lucie and I arrived,” said Matthew lazily. “I figured if anyone could figure out the inner workings of that bracelet it would be Kit. Also, on the unlikely occurrence that you die from removing it, I thought you might like it if we were all together one last time.”

James scowled. “How thoughtful.”

“Turns out we know nothing,” said Thomas from where he leaned against the library desk.

“I’ve looked through every book on charmed bracelets,” said Christopher while adjusting the bent wire in his glasses. “I managed to find something on how to charm a bracelet, but I don’t think you want to hear about how that’s done.”

Both Thomas and Christopher grimaced; purposefully avoiding eye contact with James.

“And we wanted to check on Lucie,” Anna added. “Where is she?”

At the same time Matthew and James said, “Kitchen.” The door to the library burst open, catching the surprise of all of the inhabitants including Church, as Lucie appeared, half of her dress soaked and her face flushed.

“It’s Cordelia.” Lucie shouted, her hand gripped the wall to keep her stable. “She’s been attacked.”

A spark of pain traveled up his arm, like dipping his hand in ice cold water. He looked down just as a flash of silver spun through the air and hit the stone flooring and the toe of his boot. He stared down at the bracelet on the floor, waiting for a shock of pain or an anvil to fall from the sky, but nothing happened.

No one else seemed to notice. Matthew was out of the chair in an instant, running to meet Lucie, Thomas and Christopher behind him. Anna set Church back on his feet to follow.

“What do you mean Cordelia’s been attacked?” Matthew asked.

“How do you know this Lucie?” Anna followed.

“I—“ Lucie shook her head. “That doesn’t matter now. She has. We need to leave as soon as possible. How did you lot get here?”

“Carriage,” said Christopher, “But I’m afraid your father and Magnus took it to pay Brother Zachariah a visit and your mother took the other carriage to go speak to my mother and Grace.”

The name startled him a bit, but nowhere near the shutter that used to envelope his body upon hearing those syllables uttered. Now, the only name that went through his head was Cordelia.

Cordelia was in trouble.

Cordelia was attacked.

James bent down and picked up the bracelet, holding it delicately between his fingertips. He felt a chill, dull ache in his chest, just below his rib cage. Nothing terrible, more like the feeling after you eat something bad or had too much whiskey and wake up with no memory of the night before. He looked down at his hand again, it was red where the metal had skimmed his skin, but otherwise, he was unharmed.

He felt… normal.

“We’ll take Matthew's car,” said James and stuffed the bracelet in his trouser pocket. “Lucie stay here and wait for Mam and Papa to come back and tell them what happened.”

“No!” Lucie barked. “I won’t. I’m coming with you.”

“You’ll need to get changed into gear and there’s not enough time,” said James, grabbing his coat from the back of the winged back chair. “Matthew, do you have weapons in your car?”

Matthew grimaced. “Does a tire iron count as a weapon?”

“You don’t carry weapons with you?” asked Thomas.

Matthew’s shoulders rose to his ears. “Where would I store them? Would you like me to strap them to the ceiling? Perhaps the undercarriage? Store them in the engine? It’s an automobile, Thomas, not a trunk. And how would I explain them to the authorities if I’m inspected? Heavens.”

“Perfect,” said Lucie. “You lot go gather the weapons and I’ll go get changed. We’ll meet back at Matthew’s car. Anna, would you mind assisting me?”

“Lucie—“ James reached for his sister but before he could stop her she was out the door with Anna behind her. A headache pinched behind his eyelids.

“Come on,” said Matthew. “There is no sense in trying to stop her.”

With that, the four of them left the library towards the weapons room.

* * *

They all met at Matthew’s car where he’d parked it half on the lawn and half on the brick driveway. James felt heavier with the weight of his throwing knives tucked into the gear vest that was strapped tightly across his chest. The burn of a fresh strength, speed, and agility rune stung underneath his skin: one on the inside of his arm, one on his shoulder blade, and another on his left hip. He felt the effect of them almost the instant Matthew applied them with his stele.

While Christopher contemplated taking a machete or a saber with him, Thomas applied Christopher’s runes. James climbed into the passenger seat of Matthew’s car and put his boot up the straight dashboard to tuck another knife into the lip of his boot.

Matthew glared beside him. “Can you please remove your shoe from Algernon?”

“Algernon?” James dropped his foot back to the floor. “As in Algernon—“

“Moncrieff,” said Matthew. “As in Algernon Moncrieff, the charming, decorative, idle bachelor of Oscar Wilde’s wildly popular play The Importance of Being Earnest.” He reached across James and wiped the dashboard with the fabric of his forearm. “You’ve scuffed him."

“Does this thing run properly?” James asked, eyeing the exposed engine covered in black dust and dripping oil.

“It runs splendidly,” said Matthew as he stroked the wheel. “My father helped me fix it.”

“Somehow that’s not reassuring.” James eyed Thomas and Christopher as they finished fixing their gear.

Matthew ignored James’ gib and continued to stroke the wheel. “One day you won’t need to be a secret, my sweet, one day we will drive in freedom without the disapproval of the Clave.”

“From the Clave?” said Anna from behind them. “From the public more likely.”

Anna stood beside Lucie, both dressed in black women’s fighting gear, which didn’t look altogether different from men’s except theirs tailored to their specific curves, complete with straps and buckles across the chest and around each thigh for weapons. Each had on a long waist coat that had a spit tail that ran down the back of their legs. Lucie’s hair was twisted back in a long braid that hung over her shoulder.

It was odd seeing her there without Cordelia. How familiar James’ had grown to finding them both together and now that they were apart it was like an incomplete painting. A sky with no ground. A tree with no branches. A lake with no water. A sharp pang hit him between his eyes again. He hissed and pinched the bridge of his nose when something caught his eyes. He drew his arm away and saw a faint green ring around his wrist where the bracelet had been. He pulled the sleeve of his gear down and retrieved his glove from his pocket and promptly slid them on before anyone could notice.

“Don’t listen to her, Algernon,” said Matthew. “She’s a woman of poor taste and even worse manners.”

“Don’t you forget it,” said Anna and slid into the back row of the car.

“We should really be going,” said Lucie. “There isn’t much time.”

Matthew pressed down on one of the peddles at his feet and turned the key in the ignition. The car rumbled to life as Christopher slid in-between Lucie and Anna and Thomas between James and Matthew.

All of them let out a chorus of groans except Matthew who smiled happily to himself as he examined the gages.

“What is that smell?”

Matthew adjusted his driving gloves and pulled down his goggles to shield his eyes. “The fumes of freedom.”

The engine rattled as he adjusted the gear and suddenly they were off.

#jordelia fanfiction #jordelia #james herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #lucie herondale #Matthew Fairchild #anna lightwood #christopher lightwood #thomas lightwood #the merry thieves #grace blackthorn #the shadowhunter chronicles #chain of gold #the last hours #cassandra clare

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queermediastudies · 3 years

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Blue is, in fact, not only the Warmest Color, but her name is Emma - Alec Thomas

Blue is the Warmest Color is a 2013 film adaptation of a comic series of the same name, made by Julie Maroh in 2010. This film follows a French teenager named Adele, who is what seems to be very introverted and unsure of her place in the world. Adele dates a boy named Thomas at school, but when they eventually have sex for the first time, Adele is left unfulfilled by Thomas, realizing there might be more to her sexual identity than she knows, and decides to break off their relationship. Her openly gay best friend Valentin hears about her confusion, and decides to take her out to a men’s gay bar. Adele leaves Valentin and wanders off to a neighboring lesbian bar, where she ends up meeting Emma, the blue haired girl who is also a graduating art student. The two have resounding energy off one another almost immediately, and they become friends quickly. It isn’t long after that they kiss for the first time during a picnic, before they bloom into a full relationship with one another. Emma’s family is very welcoming of Adele’s presence and relationship, while Adele’s more conservative parents are told Emma is a tutor for Adele’s philosophy class at school.

The film fast forwards a few years, and we see Adele and Emma living together while they continue their jobs. While Adele finishes school and gets a job teaching at an elementary school, Emma tries to further her painting career by throwing parties to socialize among her art peers. It’s at one of these parties that we meet Lise, a pregnant old colleague of Emma’s. Emma makes fun of Adele’s current job choice, saying that her writing could do exceptionally well, and Adele asserts that she’s much happy with where she’s at now. It’s here where we see some disparities come to light, as it seems like Adele and Emma don’t share that much in common even anymore, and out of loneliness, Adele sleeps with a male coworker. Emma finds out about the affair, and subsequently and ferociously kicks Adele out, ending their relationship. 3 years pass before they end up meeting again, only to find out Emma is now in a relationship with Lise and has a family with Lise’s daughter, while Adele still cannot overcome her heartbreak. Adele expresses how in-love she is with Emma, and despite their strong connection, Emma declines, but tells Adele that she’ll always have an “infinite tenderness” in her heart for her. More time passes before we see the two convene one last time at one of Emma’s art exhibits, where the two meet, but don’t really connect. It’s clear that Emma would rather tend to all her patrons and guests at the party, so Adele congratulates her before quietly leaving the exhibit. The film ends. I argue this film is a generally a great depiction of a heart wrenching love tale between two women, which effectively explores themes of sexuality and queerness explicitly, in order to create a film that leaves audiences wanting more among an ambiguous ending.

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This movie definitely connects with some of the talking points we’ve discussed in class. Probably one of the easiest examples we see coming to light is in one of the first scenes in the film, where Adele’s friend group displays some signs of heteronormativity. In the clip above, we see Thomas staring at Adele from afar, with Adele’s friends insisting they’re “so obviously into each other”. Adele then begins to tune out of the conversation as the rest of the group starts discussing other cute boys, while Adele remains silent, clearly uncomfortable to some degree. It’s clear here that Adele’s friend group is using heteronormativity in the sense that they believe Adele is straight, despite no context being added whether they’ve discussed this before. Seeing as how the rest of the film pans out, they clearly haven’t discussed this. “For queer theorists, sexuality is a complex array of signifiers, social codes and forces linked to institutional power which interact to shape the idea of normal or deviant, good or bad, and which has the function of including and excluding people,” (Andersson, 2002, p. 3). In this scene, Adele is unsure of her sexuality, but it is clear how it should be demonstrated among the institution of her school in the ways of heteronormativity. This environment excludes any notion of queerness existing normally, which is reinforced by Adele’s friend group. This becomes problematic for Adele, as it feels as though Adele is almost pressured into going out and sleeping with Thomas because of her friends' heteronormativity enacted upon her. She is then only left to be unfulfilled, simply because she wasn’t attracted to men it seems at this point.

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The above clip happens once Emma and Adele start spending more time together, and Adele’s friend group at school seems to pay attention to this fact. They all begin to grill and question her about where she met this girl, only to find out it was at a gay bar. Her “friends” then start getting heated with Adele, begging her to “fess up” to being lesbian, and to “just admit it”, while another girl starts making remarks about how she doesn’t care if Adele is lesbian, but that she’s slept naked in her bed a few times and seen her checking out her ass, calling Adele a “whore”, and then asking the question “Does your bitch have a blue p---y?” before Adele starts to fight. While this is clearly homophobia, it’s carefully inserted into the film to show some of the general public’s opinion on gay or lesbian reception, those of which lines match pretty well with Adele’s parents ideals. You could compare this to a time where “homosexuals” were compared to Communists in the U.S. “Communists bore no identifying physical characteristics...Homosexuals too could escape detection...Because most people confronted with accusations of homosexuality during these witch-hunts quietly resigned, it is impossible to determine the number of careers and lives that were destroyed.” (Gross, 2001, p. 22). This scene almost plays out like an interrogation or a witch-hunt of Adele, which I think draws on some lines on queer folk having to “admit” their queerness publicly, while cisgender folk never have to admit their sexuality in the same way. This part especially demonstrates queerness in a real world lens. To me, this scene was put into the film in order to demonstrate the harsh world that queer folk often experience. It’s made for the audience to have a better understanding of Adele’s current position, and therefore allows the audience to become more compassionate with Adele’s struggles along her life, for simply choosing who she wants to love.

Another dominant theme we see arising out of this film is sexuality and pornography. That being said, I wouldn’t recommend watching this film with your parents in the same room, because boy, you would be in for a trip. The film’s graphic sex scenes are all pretty exposed for Adele and Emma, leaving almost literally nothing to the imagination of the audience. I think this is done in the film because it wants to show the raw and unfiltered bodies of the two lovers, and more obviously done to display queer love on screen. “Queer film study, then, understands cinematic sexualities as complex, multiple, overlapping, and historically nuanced, rather than immutably fixed...queer film study explores how and why the fluidity of all sexualities relates to the production and reception of cinema.” (Benshoff & Griffin, 2004, p. 2). We especially see this sexual fluidity occur within Adele, when she sleeps with Thomas at the beginning of the movie, along with her fling with a male coworker that ultimately ended her relationship with Emma. Adele’s sexuality isn’t ever exactly defined, which leaves it ambiguous to the audience, therefore showing that even Adele is still discovering what her sexuality is exactly. While the sex scenes are explicit, to me, I wouldn’t qualify them exactly as porn, because they are also increasingly dramatic with expression. In a way, if we didn’t have these scenes, I don’t know if the audience could even understand the level of obsession that Adele and Emma have for one another. It’s in these scenes that we get just a glimpse of what it means to love as humans, and how sex is one of many facets to deepen our love for one another.

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For myself, the above clip is one scene in particular where I think the movie doesn’t really hit the nail on the head. In the scene as discussed in the intro paragraph, it features Adele and Emma in a restaurant, a few years after they’ve broken up, with Adele confessing her deep love for Emma again. Emma declines Adele’s love, citing that she’s with someone else now, and thus leaves. Before Emma is able to do that however, there’s a pretty lengthy portion of the clip where the two begin to passionately make out with one another, even getting to literal third base blatantly happening at the dinner table. Don’t get me wrong, my issue isn’t at all with any of the pretty graphic sex scenes in the movie, but this one in particular stands out because it’s literally in public. Literally a waitress confirms an order for coffee before the scene starts, and then the camera even pans out at the end of the scene to witness two other customers dining a few tables away. I felt like this part ran into a few problems, since both Adele and Emma completely ignore everyone else in the room in order to sexually fulfill one another, which for me not only feels a bit insensitive to not only the other people in the restaurant, but a bit unrealistic and hypersexualized. I think this part is more damaging to queer identities, in the sense that the ideal is being pushed that when it comes to sex, they are completely unable to control themselves for their lust for one another. You also get a sense of the power of looking at these characters by the minor characters in this scene, which pins them as public interpretations of sexuality inside the restaurant unfairly. They are more than just the objects of lust being viewed upon by other customers and work staff, but this scene doesn’t help that argument whatsoever.

Much like most things in the movie, the ending is completely ambiguous. You see Adele walk off around a street corner, to supposedly never talk to Emma again. We see this love come together, fall apart, and have a smidge of possible recovery, only to be let down again. Shortly put, I wanted more out of this story, because it felt like it wasn’t over. Maybe the reason it ended was to show that things don’t always have a “Happily Ever After”, especially when it comes to real life. Overall, for myself as a cisgender white straight man, I think this film is great in terms of queer media exposure. I think white and straight people have been given too much in terms of amount of privilege, especially when it comes to roles in love stories in cinema. I was forced to be critical when it came to my analysis of this movie, simply because I wasn’t the identity featured in this movie. I had to interpret information from a queer lens, which made me more objective and honestly a bit uncomfortable - but in a good way. I was forced to feel and see the things these characters were experiencing, in the exact same exposed ways they were seeing them. In a way, I think that made me more drawn to the story, simply because I was experiencing something that I had never gotten the chance to see anywhere else. The fact that the entire film is in French plays a big role as well, as I noticed I was using a lot of nonverbal cues in order to determine how a character might feel at any point in time. To conclude, I think this movie does a mostly great job on representing queer identities in order to create a love story that is unequivocally matched to any other story you see. It hits on the realistic parts of life and love that humans experience, in order to show how rough love can truly be.

References

Andersson, Y. (2002). Queer Media? In E. Kingsepp (Ed.), Media Research in Progress. Stockholm: Stockholms University.

Benshoff, H., & Griffin, S. (2004). Queer Cinema the Film Reader. New York, NY: Routledge. Taylor & Francis Group.

Gross, L. (2001). Up from Invisibility: Lesbians, Gay Men, and the Media in America. NEW YORK: Columbia University Press. doi:10.7312/gros11952

#queermedia #blue is the warmest color #moviereview #queermovie #loveislove

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buckyscrystalqueen · 4 years

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Too Smart for Your Own Good: Part 2

Pairings: Machine Gun Kelly x Reader, (Past and Future) Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, one night stand, unprotected sex

Word Count: 2,129

A/N: Doesn’t have a completed end yet, but just giving you more content to try to get myself out of a writing funk.

Part 1

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

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Your father, Negan, chuckled as you got off the golf cart in front of the trailer you’d be celebrating Christmas in again, like you had for three of the past ten years, at the Los Angeles County State Prison.

“Hi, daddy.” You breathed in relief, grateful to spend any amount of time with the only family member that you could completely trust. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry fucking Christmas to you, too, Princess. Fuck you, give ‘em.” He barked as he pulled the bags of food and your clothes off the back of the cart before you could even think to reach for them. You simply rolled your eyes and grabbed your guitar case before thanking the officer and heading inside the family visit trailer. “So what kinda trouble did you get into this week?”

“Well…” You sighed as you sat down at the small table in the kitchen. “… I went to Cleveland on Saturday and flew back yesterday morning. Pretty sure I got pregnant, too.”

“You fucking what?!” Your dad roared as he slammed a box of Mac and Cheese down on the counter. “Fucking Henry?”

“Henry is not coming back!” You shouted back, defensively. “And does it fucking matter? I made a choice, two choices actually, to sleep with some douche bag and not take Plan B after. It is what it fucking is.”

“So what, you're just gunna throw away your fucking life…” He started as he went back to throwing groceries in the cabinets, angrily.

“No, I made the choice to not be fucking alone any more!” You interrupted as you looked over at him. You couldn't hide the hurt in your eyes when he turned around to stare at you, shocked that you were actually talking about your emotions.

“Sweetheart…” He breathed as he abandoned his task and came over to sit down in front of you. “You are not fucking alone…”

“I am alone, daddy.” You nearly whispered as you put your feet up on your chair and wrapped your arms around your legs. “Mom’s dead, and you're in here for who knows how much longer. And Henry…” You scoffed and shook your head. “Henry isn't coming back. He loves being some hit shot doc the Army more than he ever loved me. So other than my research, which I've all but abandoned anyways out of sheer boredom, I have nothing. I have no one, daddy. Just the occasional visit from Ashleigh and some of the harlots from the club. Maybe a once a month lunch date with some of the people from UCLA. But that's it. So I made a choice not to get the morning after pill after I stared at the box for over an hour and weighed out the pros and cons. And I would much rather raise a sperm donor baby than be alone in that house anymore.”

“OK.” Negan whispered with a nod as he rested his hand on your bent knee. “OK. I don't fucking like it, but I will get on that train all the fucking same.” Tears welled in your eyes as you rested your cheek on the back of his hand, and you closed your eyes to hide them. “So I'm gunna be a grandpa?”

“Maybe.” You choked the slightest bit as you opened your eyes to look at him again. “It just happened but I know I'm ovulating…”

“Eww fucking gross.” He fake gagged to get you to smile as he pulled his hand free and got up to finish putting groceries away. “I don't wanna hear that shit.”

“That's what you get for raising a daughter with no filter.” You pointed out as you propped your chin between your still bent knees.

“Fucking gross.” He repeated with a laugh. “So the fuck was in Cleveland? This fuckin guy?”

“Ashleigh’s client. He’s a rock rapper that needed someone that could learn music fast and played the guitar well. So Ash landed on me. But dude is a total self absorbed prick. B minus in… well in the broom closet.”

“I'll have Simon kill him.” He said almost 100% seriously.

“You are not going to kill this idiot for being bad at sex.”

“No, I'm gunna fucking kill him for laying a Goddamn hand on my daughter.” He responded with a smile as he balled up the last empty grocery bag and put it in the recycling bin.

“You're an idiot.” You laughed as you grabbed your guitar and got up to sit outside for a while.

“Hey, be nice to your old man.” He huffed as he grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a pack of matches off the table and followed you out front to enjoy the California sun. “And go easy on me today.”

“Yea fucking right.” You laughed as you sat down on one of the plastic lawn chairs and pulled out your guitar, which took you almost a year of bribery to be able to get it into the jail it now lived in in the first place. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Pain in my Goddamn ass.” He grumbled around his cigarette as he moved his chair out off the shade and pulled off his blue prison issue shirt for as long as he could get away with it. “Alright… rock music from the 70’s.” You nodded at the category and tuned your guitar before picking an easy AC/DC song to start with. Which is pretty much how you always spent your days when you visited your father in prison.

——

Your office hadn’t looked so chaotic since you were working on a regular basis, but as of that morning, every available surface was covered in every single medical textbook, (with a focus on pregnancy and pediatrics) and motherhood book you could get your hands on. The dry erase board that usually had your equations to see if your Milky Way black hole theory was a possibility, had been wiped clean and replaced with columns upon columns of notes, to separate the ridiculous from the actual facts you would need to go through a pregnancy and raise a child.

You were blazing through the ‘Essential Neonatal Textbook’, when your house phone rang, startling you the slightest bit and forcing you to pull your attention away from a long list of the benefits of cord blood. You sighed and snatched up your headset as you set the book down to work through all of the information and pick out the more important bits and pieces to make the best informed decision.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)? I have a Colson Baker here to see you.” Your fingers froze with the cap of the marker in one hand and the marker itself in the other.

“You can let him in.” You sighed as you took a step forward and started a new list under the newborn column in the middle of the board. You heard the line click in your ear and you wrote quickly, trying to get some of the information down so you knew where to pick up when you came back inside. You got a short start and reluctantly forced yourself away from your research to let your guest in. You started to work out your ideas vocally as you opened up the two gates and watched his purple Lamborghini pull into your driveway. You waited just long enough for him to make it half way to you, before you turned and headed inside to add more to your cord blood list with him following behind you.

“Umm… what the fuck is this?” Kels asked as he looked at the board over your shoulder in shock.

“Did you vaccinate Casie?” You asked as you continued to write.

“You’re fucking pregnant?!” He shouted over you as you capped your marker and set it back down on the easel.

“I am pregnant.” You said evenly as you walked over to find the ‘The Umbilical Cord Blood Controversies in Medical Law’ book to cross reference the former textbook. “Did you vaccinate Casie?”

“Were you gunna fucking tell me?” He shouted as you flipped through the pages, easily reading 20,000 words a minutes despite the distraction of your visitor.

“I was neither planning on telling you, nor keeping it from you.” You said simply. “I want nothing from you, Mr. Baker. I don’t need money, and I don’t need you to step up to be a father. You were a one night stand that I chose to not take Plan B after. My choice, my child, my body, my life.” He looked at you completely lost for words as you set your finished book down and headed back to the white board to add and change notes. “I would like your family medical history, though. I could easily do a diagnostics test and an MSS while I’m pregnant but…”

“Oh, I’m gunna be fucking sick.” He groaned behind you as you finished your idea and turned to move on to the next section. You grabbed the trash can and handed it to him on the way past as you tried to keep your thoughts as straight as possible, relatively unsuccessfully.

“I don’t wanna be alone.” You sighed as you looked over at him for a moment. “And after the way you treated me that night, the way you just used me and threw me away like I didn’t mean a Goddamn thing…” You exhaled through your nose and shook your head as you looked away from him and out the back door to the ocean.

“I don’t care that you’re not happy here, Mr. Baker. I don’t care if you want to be in this child’s life or not. I don’t care if you see me or this child as a mistake, or what you see us as at all. I just don’t care. What I care about is having a calm, healthy pregnancy, and becoming a mother. And I will not tolerate having someone come into our lives to walk in and out of it because he never wanted us in the first place. Nor will I tolerate someone treating me like I’m worthless trash in front of my child.” Kels didn’t say a single word as you shook your head and turned back around to go back to work. “Stay as long as you want. I have work to do.”

As Colson sat and thought, you went over to find a book about banking cord blood so you could round out that column. The next column was pros and cons of breastfeeding verses formula, which was a lot more extensive than you originally expected due to the varying opinions on length and benefits, but after reading through seven different books, and writing and erasing conflicting notes, he finally spoke up.

“Breastfeed for a year.” He almost whispered as he watched you work. “That’s what we did with Casie. And yea, we vaccinated her.” You nodded your head as you erased the idea you were writing and stood up to make a note in the vaccines column. “I don’t turn my back on my kids.”

“OK.”

“I’m sorry.” He continued as you capped your marker “It’s no excuse but I was high as fuck and running on adrenaline. I used you and that was shitty as fuck.”

“Yes it was.” You agreed with a nod as you leaned against the front of your desk and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well I’m fucking sorry.” He said a little harshly. “And I’m sorry for knocking you up.”

“Pregnancy happens, Colson.” You breathed with a shrug of your shoulders. “I’m obviously a little more prepared since I actually made the decision…”

“Yea, that’s a fucking understatement.”

“OK, you can fucking leave and I can file a restraining order.” You snapped. “What’s done is done. I’m pregnant, you’re the father, your kid and my kid have a new sibling. You’re not going to have to pay child support, I’m taking primary custody with open visitations. And no, I am not going to date you. Not now, not ever. You left a sour taste in my mouth and I want nothing to do with you or your crazy lifestyle.”

“You’re just making this super fucking easy, aren’t you?” He asked as he pushed himself out of his chair. “I’m outta here. I’ll get your number from Ash and I’ll be in touch.” You rolled your eyes and gestured toward the door behind him.

“You can see yourself out.”

“Such a fucking bitch.” He muttered as he stormed out the doors and through the atrium to leave. You let out a huff and shook your head as you went back to your research.

“Idiot fucking sperm donor.”

Part 3

#machine gun kelly x reader #mgk x reader #colson baker x reader #henry cavill x reader #too smart for your own good

94 notes · View notes

miraculousfanworks · 4 years

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Miraculous Fanworks Fanfiction Compilation: August 2020 Exchange

Image credit.

Miraculous Fanworks Fanfiction Compilation: August 2020 Exchange

Welcome to the compilation for the August 2020 Exchange on the Miraculous Fanworks Discord server!

On the server, we host events every month. This August, we hosted a fanfiction exchange.

A fanfiction exchange is where fanfiction authors submit an offer and a request, and are then matched with fellow writers who would like to write their requests.

This is the compilation of all the authors who published works for the August 2020 exchange.

Enjoy!

Everybody is Confused, Nobody is Responsible by Ambrosia_678

for MyMayura

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26072089/chapters/63411766

When Adrian accidentally finds out his father's alter ego, everyone has to make some hard choices.

Origin of All that is Good (We'll Go Together) by faelynwythe

for tbehartoo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26193631/chapters/63742417

In an ancient time and land, the great goddess Ladybug has all but lost her influence upon the world, save for a single young man who still believes in her with everything he has.

august rain by fictionalinfinity

for miraculousandstrangerthingsworld

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26097877

Over the years, the umbrella comes to mean different things for Adrien. From empty promises to flourishing friendships and secret identities, he finds that there’s more to the rain than just the thunder.

You Had Me at Bonjour! by JaydenMarie

for Rikkapikasnikka

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26189995/chapters/63732202

More than anything in the whole world, Marinette wished someone would say his name again. Alix kept calling him Bozo, but she knew that was most certainly not his name. She’d been far too flustered by his painted nails, the blue running through his black hair, his open shirt and his bare chest, his voice...UGH. What was she thinking about again? Oh. His name. Marinette certainly couldn't spend an entire weekend in Phuket calling him Soft Hands Guy, could she? Lukanette

A Game of... Bug and Chat by JuliaFC

for fictional infinity

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26065015

A revealing dream leads Marinette to suspect the identity of her Minou. Being the Guardian, she could just ask him to show her... but where's the fun in that? Marinette starts a game to "spice up" the reveal. Will an extremely flustered Adrien survive flirty!Marinette's "ordeal"? And will Marinette keep her cool when the tables will be reversed? Read and find out! Plenty of Adrinette :)

Lazy Morning at home by Khanofallorcs

for PurpleFlower04

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26112136

Determined to help Marinette relax after weeks of hard work, Adrien plans to surprise his girlfriend with breakfast in bed, on the morning of her 23rd birthday.

Perhaps Love by L3245

for JaydenMarie

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26154802/chapters/63636466

‘Being known is being loved… and then what?’ He bites his lip. ‘Come on, Luka… you had this.’Luka has never written a love song. It's not that he hasn't tried--he has, but nothing has ever felt right. It's never bothered him, until one day the words hit him out of the blue. Being known is being loved. Then there are incomplete lyrics and a half-baked tune stuck in his head until he finds a way to finish them.Perhaps a chance encounter (or five!) with a clumsy, but attentive girl will help.

Is There a 101 on Crushes with Secret Identities? by Lethargic_Pink

for MissNoodles

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26199550

What is Marinette going to do when they both, accidentally, find out each other's identities?Well, of course, she's going to challenge him to a game of flirting, because that's totally Marinette.

The Unfortunate Flour Incident by liminalshadow

for MarinetteAgresteBrand

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26224177

When Chat Noir and Marinette have a bread baking date, an unfortunate flour incident forces a conversation that they wasn't quite ready to have.

Cirque Du Désir by MarinetteAgresteBrand

for CassandraFisher

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26017315

There was a fine line between Hell and Heaven, lust and love, and the ringmaster, Viperion, knew how to blur it all just so... make everything meld together until Chat Noir and Ladybug couldn’t tell where they themselves began and ended, their fate dancing on a tightrope.

I don't know what to title this. by Mavicah

for sseagully

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26192701

Friendship shenanigans? I'm bad at descriptions.

This cafe by miraculousandstrangerthingsworld

for Nomolosk

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/MLBAugust2020/works/26174752

Marinette and Adrien get engaged at the place they met and have a few flashbacks.Adrien is a singer and Marinette is a songwriter.No miraculouses

Me, My Best Friend, and Her Cat by MissNoodles

for liminalshadow

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051047

Ladybugs aren't known for being particularly sneaky. Good thing this Ladybug has a fox in her corner, watching her back.(And giving Ladybug's love life a nudge along the way. Maybe more than a nudge. In Alya's defense, Ladybug can use all the help she could get.)

Before and After by Mommadon

for pickledtalie

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25965442/chapters/63120091

Moments of sorrow bring Marinette and Adrien closer together as they learn, grow, and heal together. A series of nonlinear Before and After snapshots, glimpsing how heartache is turned to joy and tears become laughter.

Lace and Beads and Silk Brocade by MyMayura

for PrinceKapitan

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26075419

Ms. Bustier can't seem to accept that Chloé and Marinette have no intentions of becoming friends. It seems, however, that their forced "friend date" might have some positive surprises in store, which are much needed after Marinette's terrible day.

heroes (just for one day?) by NOIRequin

for Mommadon

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26120986/chapters/63540517

After the epic failure of Heroes’ Day, Mayor Bourgeois and his counselor decided to organize another city-wide event in honor of all the citizens who fought against the evil during the previous celebration. Some people nominate Marinette as an Everyday Hero, the face of that event, but she doubts that she’s worth this title. Luckily, she gets a partner who will help her not only nail organizational issues but to embrace the title of Everyday Ladybug as well. Set immediately after s2, so episodes after that are invalid in this universe.

The Things We Do For Family by Nomolosk

for JuliaFC

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26125108/chapters/63553105

Felix is getting married. It's tradition that the eldest child in the Graham de Vanily family use the Twin Rings as their wedding rings, passed down through each successive generation, and Felix has no intention of breaking with tradition. There's only one problem. Felix only has one of the rings.

it will take time, but we'll be okay by pickledtalie

for Shattered_Heartless and Angylle

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26160067

ladybug and chat noir sit on a roof. they talk. it goes... well?

Seven Seas of Symphony by PrinceKapitan

for faelynwtythe

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25946050/chapters/63068758

Luka's relationship with his mother Anarka is rather poor. While neither one had much of a regard to the civilian norms, Anarka would more often than not take things too far. When Luka's crush Marinette comforts him after another altercation, things seem to go well between the guitarist and the designer. Unfortunately, Luka's rebellious mother pulls a life threatening stunt to spite her son's dispiriting attitude towards her reckless behavior and this leaves him, Marinette and Juleka out at sea in the midst of a storm. If they somehow get back home, their relationship is bound to strain even more.

Exposed by PurpleFlower04

for delwyndelwyndelwyn

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067430

When Alya finds out Mari is Ladybug, she is given something very special to remind her not to spill the secret to the Ladyblog.

Tell Me All Your Secrets (let me know you) by Rikkapikasnikka

for SilverMoonSky

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26166259/chapters/63668782

Luka was tired of secrets.His hands were full of them: in the lines of his palms, in the wrinkles of his knuckles, and in the callouses of his fingers. He held onto the secrets of his partners: the synchronicity of their breathing, the beating of their hearts, the pain of their burdens. And he was exhausted.Admittedly, Luka Couffaine did not know Kagami Tsurugi that well. But he invited her over to talk, and she had showed up, and now, it was time.Adrien and Marinette have to come clean, too.

Rebound by theriveroflight

for Mavicah

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25848778

“I was in love with you. Adrien you. I was putting off thinking about it until after I told you,” she says, “but I’ve come to a decision. I refuse to be your rebound, Adrien. You just broke up with Kagami. And I know that you didn’t really love her, you told me that yourself, but every breakup needs time for the dust to settle. I don’t want to be your rebound. I don’t want to be the person you use as an outlet for your feelings. I don’t want things to move too fast.”

i promised myself (wouldn't let you complete me) by theriveroflight

for ladybuginette

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26205169

and all I do is cry and complain, 'cause second's not the same...

I can tell that we are going to be friends by sagansjagger

for theriveroflight

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25811668

While Ladybug kicks his butt during their weekly video game session, Adrien realizes he has to treasure his friendship with her and pack it away into his heart like a precious jewel. Featuring heart-to-heart conversations about identities, superhero guilt, and fame, as well as Adrien Agreste/cupcakes.

Ridiculous, Utterly Ridiculous by sagansjagger

for Lethargic_Pink

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25995058

This shouldn't hurt as much as it does, Chat thinks.But after being rejected by Ladybug (again), he's devastated. Vaulting across the city blindly, he finds himself on the balcony of the Grand Paris...And finds sympathy from an unexpected person: his oldest friend outside of the mask, Chloé Bourgeois.

It’s the Yeast I Could Do by sagansjagger

for Speckleflower

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054116

Wandering the Parisian streets after nine pm on a Sunday, Adrien Agreste is miserable. He’d fought with his father about the stupidest thing. Fortunately, Tom Dupain is there to help him through his turbulent emotions, using the stress-relieving arts of stirring, kneading, and baking bread. It didn't hurt that Tom had a cute daughter, either.

'til we can't tell where you end and where i begin by sanj_sanj and sagansjagger

for Ladybuginette

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26206465/chapters/63778384

After Hawkmoth's defeat, Adrien is a little, lost bird without a home. Marinette Dupain-Cheng takes him in, and they live as roommates together.But not everything is okay. Adrien is a terrible roommate. They fight about everything and neither has any idea of their mutual pining for each other due to the lack of communication after the reveal and the battle.Adrien is jealous of Marinette and Luka's very close friendship. Eventually, enough is enough. Adrien decides that he'll do anything to fix his relationship with Marinette.Starting by being a friend to her again.

rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams by sseagully

for khanofallorcs

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26103793

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is just a normal girl with a normal life. That is, until one day, when she is presented with the Mouse Miraculous to join the fight alongside the famous Cat and Bug heroes of Paris, Nekomata and Coccinche.But she is not brought in alone. She has a partner by her side. A really great partner who is very cute and funny and supportive — and who unfortunately has a giant crush on a classmate at his school. -AU where the Black Cat and Ladybug Miraculous were given to Luka and Kagami at the beginning; Marinette and Adrien are brought on to flesh out the team as the Mouse and Snake wielders.Reverse crush SnekMouse. Side pairing Lukagami. Characters slightly aged up.

give me hope for something better by sseagully

for L3245

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26228080

Chloé and Luka sit on the rooftop of Le Grand Paris hotel and have a talk that's been a long time coming.

Repercussions by Shattered_Heartless and Angylle

for sagansjagger

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26208031

Time means nothing when you have love, family and a purpose. And if you don't? What happens when minor changes occur in the Battle for the Miraculous?What repercussions will the choices made have? Will everyone be able to manage the fall out?

Wistfully In Love With You by SilverMoonSky

for NOIRequin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056492

Now that Marinette finally knew the way she felt about him, she couldn’t look back. She’d tried to scream at her heart to stop. She’d told herself it wouldn’t work out. But in the end, she’d fallen hard.And yet, despite the fact that she didn’t know what she could really do, Marinette knew only one thing when she’d realized she’d somehow fallen for her superhero partner: she could absolutely not tell him about her feelings for him.How could she? Their love had led to the destruction of the world; what would happen if he ever found out? What if he figured out her identity? Although Marinette didn’t want to admit he still had feelings for her, if there was even the slimmest chance. . . . She couldn’t let Chat Blanc happen ever again. If suppressing her feelings for him was the only way that would happen, then that was what she had to do.

Bitten by the Love Bug by Speckleflower

for Sanj_sanj

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26141788/chapters/63600310

Adrien gets floored by Marinette at video games, when they are totally not supposed to be working on a project.Later on, Adrien finds something out that completely changes his view of her.And when placed into a difficult situation together before Adrien has a chance to process his feelings, how will they get through it?

A Date with Destiny by tbehartoo

for A_Human42

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26209693

Nathaniel has been set up on a blind date by his dear friend Alya. Marc is Alya’s co-worker and Nathaniel’s waiter for this clandestine meeting. Alya might finally be able to put a win in her score book as a matchmaker, if only Kim would show up for the date!

#fanfiction #tag: compilation #tag: exchange #august2020 #mod: cass

19 notes · View notes

jmflowers · 4 years

Note

3, 15, 17 for the fanfic ask 😊

3. Do you prefer canonverse or AUs?

I think for reading, I always lean more towards canonverse. I like those fill-in scene fics and being some place in a story that is ultimately really familiar. Canon fics are the ones I most often go back to and read again.

As for writing, I find myself much more drawn to AUs. I was always very, very driven by character development when in school and required to write my own creations, but I never really felt like I got good at world-building or plot lines. I started writing fanfiction specifically because it gave me established characters and, as such, forced me to get better at the other stuff.

15. Post the last line you wrote without context.

A lighthouse, guiding Charity home to safe harbour.

17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.

I wish this one was more than just an idea because I love the concept so much and it was so cathartic to write the first two parts, but I’ve been stuck on it for months and I’m not sure where to go with it next.

It’s called Hell & Back, inspired by the song of the same name by Maren Morris. I wanted to write something in second person that had an actual plot, as opposed to the usual character analysis style I typically do in second person POV. So far, I have written two interactions: the first and second times Vanessa meets Charity.

I don’t know how to talk about this one without giving it all away… I’m just gonna post part one here and we’ll see what happens...

You meet Charity on a Thursday, when the sun has finally given way to the storm clouds that have been creeping closer all morning. The rain pelts down in cold, hard slaps as you bend over a sheep that looks about as miserable as you’re starting to feel, examining its hooves for what you’re certain might be the start of foot rot in the herd. Moira won’t be pleased, not in the slightest.

“Shouldn’t you be ducking for cover?” someone calls over the sound of the rain, their voice slicing through the rising crescendo to reach your ears.

You twist, startled, looking up quickly to find the source. It’s a woman, stood about four yards away, watching you with her arms crossed atop the fence. There’s a fog that seems to hover around her, rising slowly like the steam above a hot cup of tea. It’s something you should look at closer, you’ll realize later, but in the moment, it flits away from conscious thought in the passing breeze.

You shiver, the rain well and truly soaked into your coveralls now, bits of hair plastered to your forehead in such a way that you’re sure isn’t flattering. Not like in those movies Tracy keeps making you watch.

“Shouldn’t you?” you retort, already turning your attention back to the sheep struggling in your hands. Fickle creatures, them; smart enough to recognize each other but not to see that you’re only there to help. You pull it harder onto its hindquarters, rendering it unable to escape and earning a pathetic bleat in response.

“Really rather be torturing sheep than cuddled up warm and dry?” It’s the woman again, her voice suddenly closer than it’d been before. You look up just in time to see her leaning over the side of the pen you’re in, pulling a face at the animal in your arms. Your eyes flick to the gate she’d been stood beside before, the chain still wrapped securely around the fence post just as you’d left it.

“I’m not torturing it,” you murmur, eyes dragging back to her face. Did you miss the sound of her hopping the fence? Are you so tuned out that you wouldn’t be aware of someone approaching like that?

She laughs, the green of her eyes almost sparkling as she tips her chin up into the air. “Don’t know that he’d agree with that statement, babe.” She’s near enough now that you can count the freckles trailing down her neck, guiding your eyes to the dip at the top of her jacket.

“She,” you say without thinking, always just a breath from correcting. Like your mother, that; a habit you’d always hated when you were on the receiving end.

But she doesn’t scrunch up her nose like Tracy does when you do the same to her, voicing annoyance louder than her words ever could. No, Charity just tilts her head and hums out one of those noises that sounds like a question, as though she’d rather you explain further than shut right up.

“This is a ewe, not a ram,” you offer, trying to pull back that prim and proper tone that seems to appear whenever you’re clarifying something. It’s like a flashback to being sat in the front row at school, pretending you didn’t hear the girls snickering behind you. “Male sheep have horns, females don’t.” Even Rhona’s teased you for it, mimicking after she’d overheard you giving directions to a client.

“Huh,” Charity says, dropping her gaze to the animal once more, “Guess that’s why everyone always assumes the devil’s a man.”

It’s a funny thing to say, odd enough that you freeze for a moment before you manage to come up with a response. Later, you’ll understand why she did, when you know her well enough to grasp the twists and turns of her mind. But not right now. No, the first time you meet her, you just think she’s a strange one.

“Male and female goats both have horns,” you sputter when the quiet between you has stretched on for too long. You want to kick yourself the second her eyes flick back to you, her gaze so clearly telling that it is you – not her – whom she thinks is odd.

“Is that right?” she asks with a smirk, “Always did like them better.”

You, too, though you don’t say. Not normal conversation, is it, to tell a stranger that you’ve always preferred that gentle knowingness hidden behind a goat’s eye? Be a vet, Vanessa, if you must, your mother had said, But, don’t be one of those people who only speaks of animals.

The prim and proper comes from her, you know, all the things you’d been poked and teased for stemming from the ideal daughter she’d tried to craft you into. Not like your father, who laughs when he shouldn’t and smiles when it’s impolite and says the sorts of things you’d never dare to. You wonder, often, how they ever got together long enough to have you.

“So, what are you doing then?” she asks, lurching her body further over the pen until you can feel her breath beside your head. It’s hot, much hotter than you’re prepared for when the cold is so busy burrowing into your bones. She keeps her eyes trained on your hands, trying to get a good look at the hoof you’re clutching – not a pretty one, either, not the sort you’d ever show anyone other than Paddy or Rhona. You tuck it a little lower, trying to hide the swelling beneath some wool.

“They’re sick,” you mutter, your brain spiralling backwards to the game plan you’d been formulating before she’d interrupted. You’ll need one, before you head up to the house to tell Moira what’s going on. It’s likely the field, you think, all this low-lying ground and the abundance of rain in the past few weeks has surely not helped the situation.

“With what?” Charity presses. Her breath feels like fire where it meets your neck, scalding the gooseflesh beneath your ponytail as she speaks.

You lean away, lowering your arm enough that the sheep squirms hard in your grasp, knocking you off balance. You fall back against the fence, hands grappling behind yourself to grab onto something sturdy. The sheep takes its opportunity, tipping to the side before scrambling to its feet and taking off towards the others. They bleat at the new arrival, corralling themselves into a bunch beneath the only tree at the far edge of the pen.

You huff, frustrated instantly and unsure where to lay the blame. You can feel your brow furrowing when you turn to meet her eye, catching the twinkle and the smirk that you assume are present at your expense. “Foot rot,” you mutter, pushing away from the fence angrily. Won’t be easy to catch that one again, now that it’s had a taste, especially not when the field’s gone slick with mud.

“Sounds gross,” she says, dropping down off the fence to follow as you stalk across the pen to your bag. The rain has sent splatters of mud up the side of it, a match to the boots on your feet. “You a farmer, then?” she asks.

The laugh comes before you can decide whether you mean to or not, a breath bursting across your lips at the notion of you in Moira’s shoes, depending on animals for your livelihood in a different sort of way than you already do. No, you’ve never quite managed to imagine a clean picture of yourself with a farm, always something just slightly off that made you shy away.

“’Fraid not,” you chuckle, “I’m a vet.”

She nods knowingly, stepping back out of the way when you open the gate to the outer laneway where she stands. “They’ll be okay, then?” she murmurs, eyes shifting over your shoulder to the herd.

You shrug, because it’s not a guarantee of course – none of these things ever are – but you’ve caught it early enough that you don’t anticipate too much damage. Some zinc sulfate baths to start, a round of vaccinations if it comes to it, and the sheep will be good as new in no time. “They’ll be fine,” you answer, “Though I might not be, when I tell Moira she’ll have to spend the next few weeks coaxing them into a few feet of solution to stave off the infection.”

Charity laughs, the sound lighting something low in your belly. The rain feels distant when you’re stood so close to her, the wet of your coveralls barely a blip in your mind though you’ll be desperate for a hot shower the second she’s gone.

“Well, best be careful, then,” she suggests, the remnants of her smile softening the edges of her words, “Wouldn’t want to miss seeing you again.”

She turns away before you can formulate an answer, strolling down the laneway toward the open fields at the back of the property. You have half a mind to call after her, to invite her inside for a cuppa and a towel, but she’s over the hill before you can find the courage to shout.

It’s not until much later, when you’re laid in bed replaying the day in your mind that you realize she hadn’t much seemed like she’d needed a towel. She hadn’t much seemed like the rain had touched her at all.

#janelle’s asks #fanfic asks #ask game #justusandlove #minefic

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jancmalandra · 4 years

Text

Moominpapa Steps Up

On the benefits of being in a family of storytellers

As Moominpapa had predicted Saturday was a bright, clear, sunny day. It was a perfect day to do the laundry in the morning and spend the afternoon tending the garden. Moominpapa brought the washtub out into the yard and Moomintroll set up the clothesline. Tayberry took care of supplying the hot water with supervision from her grandfather. Moomin was really looking forward to their turn at storytelling. They wore a light yellow Spring dress that contrasted nicely with their light blue fur and a straw sun hat with a rose from Moominmama's rosebush stuck in it. It was their favorite regular outfit for when they spent their days with Moominmama, helping her and their mother around the house. Snufkin lounged nearby in the hammock playing a slow, sweet, soft tune on his harmonica to accompany Moomin's story.

Moomintroll brought out the sheets from all the beds in Moominhouse in a laundry basket and as he and Moomin began scrubbing them on the washboard, Moomin began their story.

"Grandma, Mom, and Little My reached the Hobgoblin's Hotel with ease. After they checked in, Little My made straight for the dining hall.

" 'The first thing I'm going to do,' she said, 'Is stuff myself with food until I can't move!' "

"The Hobgoblin found this very amusing, and turned to grandma and Mom, asking, 'Will you be joining her?' "

" 'Perhaps you can point us to somewhere where we can eat a lighter meal?', asked grandma delicately."

" 'We have just the thing!', said The Hobgoblin enthusiastically, and he lead them up the stairs just past the reception desk to a luxurious tea room on the second floor. It had several small tables with comfortable easy chairs around them. There was a long table along the back of the room with a solid brass cappuccino machine, several teapots filled with aromatic teas, and tall cake displays with slices of cake, brownies, and biscotti on pretty desert plates. There was also a platter of cookies and a platter with a variety of sandwiches cut into triangles. Along the other walls there were cabinets with a selection of beautiful teacups and saucers from all over the world, each with a special teaspoon that belonged to the set. Every table had a sugar bowl filled with sugar cubes and a small pair of tongs to go with it and a small pitcher of fresh cream."

"Grandma and Mom made themselves a wonderful lunch, and were just sitting down to enjoy it when they noticed another guest having tea at a table in the far corner of the room and observing them with curiosity. She was a tall older woman with long brown hair and pale skin. She wore a flowing gown that was covered with an abstract multicolored design that seemed to move constantly like a kaleidoscope."

" 'Oh! Forgive me for not having seen you earlier. Won't you join us for lunch? My name is Moominmama and this is Snork Maiden.', said Moominmama.

" 'Thank you very much. I think I shall.', said the woman as she brought her tea and cake over to their table and got comfortable in one of the other two armchairs around it, 'My name is Gwendolyn. Did you say your names were Moominmama and Snork Maiden? You wouldn't happen to come from Moominvalley, would you?' "

" 'Why yes, we do!', said grandma, who was a little surprised at the question."

" 'Why, then you must be the mother of the family of Moomins my daughter Alicia has been writing about to me for years!', said Gwendolyn delightedly, " 'I can't thank you all enough for befriending her the way you have!' "

" 'It was our pleasure!', said grandma, 'Alicia is a delightful young woman and we're all very glad that she's the Witch of Moominvalley! She's been doing a marvelous job of it!' "

" 'That's very kind of you to say!', said Gwendolyn, 'I have been hoping to meet you for a very long time so that we could get to know each other properly and become good friends! It may sound strange for me to say this, but I was hoping you could help me get reacquainted with Alicia. She may be a fully mature Witch, but she will still find me quite a bit intimidating.' "

" 'But, why would that be?', asked grandma, " 'You're her mother, after all. She certainly proved herself a match for your mother from the start. I think Alicia wound up changing her for the better more than she had ever intended.' "

"At this Gwendolyn laughed heartily. 'Yes that turned out exactly as I had hoped! I am very proud of Alicia for the change she brought about in my mother. I could have forced her to change against her will, but Alicia's kind ways turned out to work much better.', she said, 'You see, Moominmama, I am the Supreme Witch. I always did my best to let Alicia grow up to be her own person, but it was inevitable that she would find out about my position in the worldwide Witching community sooner rather than later. I'm afraid she's lived in awe of me for a very long time, and we haven't been as close as I would have liked. Perhaps I could come back with you to Moominvalley when you return. I feel sure that you could help me get closer to her.' "

" 'But of course you can come back with us! We can put you up in Moominhouse for as long you would like! But, we were planning on staying at the Hotel for the whole week. I really DO need a proper vacation right now.', said grandma."

" 'But, that's perfect!', said Gwendolyn, 'You can stay with me in my penthouse suite, and we can really get to know each other! I'm sure that your companions won't mind. They can explore the Hotel on their own and enjoy themselves without being worried about you!' "

"Mom nodded 'yes' eagerly and left the tearoom quickly before grandma could raise any objections. She went towards the dining hall. She was trying to quickly formulate a plan to keep Little My distracted to allow grandma and Gwendolyn comeplete freedom."

"Mom found Little My fast asleep in a chair in the hotel's dining room. She was groaning softly with satisfaction. Mom picked her up and stood in the middle of the dining room wondering what to do next for a minute or two. Suddenly, she was struck with inspiration. The Hobgoblin's Hotel was practically a living thing, dedicated to serving The Hobgoblin's friends. Perhaps addressing it directly would help her find the best place to take Little My."

" 'Uhmm, what's the most relaxing place in the hotel?', asked Mom aloud to the room. A door suddenly opened up in the right hand back side of the dining room. Mom went out into the hallway, where only one of the hovering overhead lights was lit. As she walked down the hallway, this light led her way just ahead of her. It stopped in front of a set of double doors which opened for them. Over the doors there was a sign that read, "Hot Spring". There were two small doors in the room that they led to, one with a sign over it saying 'Men', the other with a sign saying 'Women'. Mom entered the Women's room and found a dressing room with two rows of lockers. She thought it would be better not to undress Little My without her permission and walked into the next room, which was a luxuriously outfitted hot spring, just as the sign had promised. She slowly lowered herself and Little My into the shallow end of the hot spring and Little My began to wake up."

At this point in Moomin's story, the laundry had been entirely finished and hung out to dry and the entire family decided to move straight to the gardening so as not to interrupt Moomin's train of thought. Moomintroll brought out the harvesting baskets from the cellar and a large pitcher of lemonade for everyone to drink, Moominpapa started to take care of the weeding, and the children and Moomintroll began to harvest the ripest vegetables for a big dinner they decided to have once Moomin had finished their story. Snufkin sat down and leaned up against the garden fence and continued to play his harmonica for all of them.

Moomin drank a glass of lemonade and then began harvesting the tomatoes as they resumed their story: "Little My was still groggy, and reacted to being immersed in the hot water with suspicion at first; 'Where are we? What are you doing to me?!', she shouted."

" 'Take it easy Little My!', said Mom, 'I asked the hotel to show me a place where we could both relax, and it brought me here. Don't you find the water soothing?' "

" 'Well, yes.', admitted Little My reluctantly, 'But, why isn't Mama with us?' "

" 'I thought she should have this week entirely to herself. None of us will be able to enjoy this vacation if we're all worrying about her all the time. I talked it out with her, and she agreed.', said Mom, 'We'll have more freedom to have fun on our own, especially with the hotel itself guiding us.' "

" 'Well, you're not wrong.', said Little My, 'But, this all sounds very fishy. You're definitely up to something. I'm willing to wait to find out what it is, as long as I'm kept entertained.' "

"After they had dinner, the hotel lead them to a suite of rooms. Every morning for the rest of the week they awoke and the hotel provided their breakfast in their room and then lead them to different areas in it that would provide welcome diversions for the two of them, like a game room with a selection of table games and board games for them to play. They would return to their room in the evening to find a sumptuous meal set out for them. They never ran into grandma and Gwendolyn until the following Friday, when it was time to sail The Adventure back to Moominvalley. Grandma introduced Gwendolyn at the place where the boat was docked and they were all immediately looking forward to introducing her to the rest of the Moomin family and helping her get closer to Alicia."

" 'So that's what you were hiding from me.', whispered Little My to Mom with a sly smile on her face as they set sail, 'I wouldn't have thought that you were so devious. I'll just have to be more careful around you from now on.' "

"Mom laughed a little embarrassedly at this. She and Little My had gotten a lot closer than ever that week, so she was able to really appreciate this compliment from her. The end."

Everyone around Moomin applauded them for their story and brought the vegetables into the kitchen for that day's dinner. As Moomintroll prepared the fried vegetables and rice and Moominpapal and the children set the table, Moominpapa made a suggestion to his family.

"How about we spend all of Sunday camping in the big cave near the beach? We'll spend the day swimming and stay there overnight. We'll have roasted fish that we caught ourselves and I'll tell you some of the wilder stories of my youth that I've left out of my Memoirs until now."

Everyone enthusiastically agreed with Moominpapa's plan.

To Be Continued

#moomin #snufkin #moomintroll #moominvalley #moominmama #snork maiden #little my #the hobgoblin #moominpapa #moomin oc #moomin fanfiction

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maidenof-thesea · 4 years

Text

Snakes and Butterflies | Preface

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: Soulmate Au!, Fluff, Angst, Smut (Maybe, still debating)

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: MC briefly mentions self harm but she recovers.

Note: So this is my first series, I sort of dabbled in writing when I was younger. so I’m no expert but feedback is appreciated. I always enjoyed reading fan-fictions and always wanted to try it myself. Hope you like it!

"So your room will be on the 3rd floor, facing the parking lot behind this building" I say to the couple in front of me as I hand them the keys to their hotel room. When they both reach for the keys I see their soulmate marks both matching arrows. I look up and feel my fake customer smile come on my face as I met their gaze. "Elevator is on the first hallway to your right as soon as you leave out the door. Dial zero if you have any questions." As soon as the couple is out of hearing range, I let out a sigh that Fernando, the security guard, hears.

"It's almost time till you get off," He says. "I have 7 more hours to go.."

"Oh you’re right" I say, as I look at the time on my phone. "Time to go home to the love of my life: my Yuki."

"Y/n, you need to go out and have fun like other girls your age," He says laughing and rubbing his beer pot belly. "You never know, you might just meet the love of your life...which would be nice in times like these.."

"Times like what?" I say counting out my last cash drop of my shift. "Did you see something on Facebook again? I told you so many times--"

"I saw this on the local news!" He says with red blotching his cheeks. "Young girls! Young girls around your age getting abducted! They turn up later on having no memory only that their Soulmate marks are gone!"

"Let me guess," I say printing out my paperwork and logging out of the system so that I could wait for my relief to come running through the door late again. "All these girls had a bunch to drink while having this so called 'fun' you say and this happened to them."

He stammers for words and in comes running my coworker who happens to work the graveyard shift. I saluted her and I gestured for her to hurry up and clock in since guests are pulling in the parking lot. She smiles and hurries to start the beginning of her shift, while Fernando walks me to my car.

"Okay," He starts when we reach my car. "Perhaps not now but later when this whole ordeal dies down." I hum in response ready to get in my car as I unlock it, but he stops my door from opening.

"I just worry about you, that's all y/n. Most girls either rebel or try very hard to find the one that matches their Mark but you.. you hide behind those sweaters and let no one near you, I've never even seen your Mark-"

“Fernando," I say grasping his shoulder. "There's no need to worry, I'm just letting fate decide for me. We've been blessed with this, surely fate means for me to come across them at some point in my life." I feel my other hand clench at the word 'blessed'. Surely to me it was a curse. I force myself to smile and I see that it works, he's convinced. "I just want time for myself. I want to grow into a person that feels like she's lived her life and is willing to open up and welcome someone." That wasn't a lie, that was genuine and I felt my voice wavering with emotion. Emotion I didn't know I still had. Fernando pats my hand and opens my door. I roll down the window after starting the ignition. I smile as I hear his radio go off, my coworker stating she needs him upfront.

"Alright then miss," he says smiling. "I will let you go now and get some sleep!" I wave at him, as I reverse out and start the short drive home. My smile fading off my face as I clenched the steering wheel, willing myself to force unwanted emotions and memories away and drove the short distance to my home.

The reason I decided to move out here to one of the beach cities was to escape. I found solitude in the sounds of the waves. My friend Jennie had recommended me to stay in this house alongside her family’s private beach, once I had told her my plans of moving out. She told me the rent would be really cheap which was impossible to believe but she told me that her family was planning on making it an airbnb during the summer and that they needed someone to manage it. She offered a wage but of course I declined, I just told her to hire someone to clean and I’ll manage the rest.

It had been a year since then and now summer was just peaking over the horizon again and I knew I was gonna have to take time off to get everything situated. As I got through my door, my beloved Yuki, my tonkinese cat greets me with her purring and rubbing around my ankles.

“Hello my precious, how was your night?”

She purrs and licks my petting hand. I go to take off my coat and shower before bed. As I strip my work clothes, my arms catch my glance and from the conversation from earlier, I am reminded just how much of a freak I am. Where there should have been a Mark, lied just my skin. Scarred skin, to be exact, scars that matched my finger nails.

Rather than face the questions and pity in people’s faces, I rather hide. Hide just how pitiful my life has been. As the warmth of the water envelops me, I don’t feel the need to hide, at least not here in my own home, well that is till the summer. I force the pity I have for myself away and hum a tune. After that I fed Yuki a late night snack and turned on the TV to watch some Netflix. Just then my phone dinged and I saw a message from my mother.

Mom[10:47 pm]: Have you seen this? Link: ww.foxnews.com/missingMarks

I clicked on the link and apparently the news I thought was just local made national news.

“Today in a small town in southern California, tragedy has struck for several young adolescents who were out enjoying their youth when their very futures may very well change forever.” I rolled my eyes at that. They’ll live. “These women were abducted and their Soulmate marks stripped from their arms. All of them have no recollection of their whereabouts in the last 14 hours. Here’s Nancy with one of the victims.”

The clip changes to a girl with her eyes blurred out but it was evident that she was crying as she kept wiping her face.

“I swear I just needed some air, I stepped out for a bit and I woke up at some park and this excruciating pain in my arm… my Mark was gone, almost as if it was burned off! How am I ever-gonna find them?!”

Once again I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes, although a part of me was reminded of my teenage years but now older me, thrives in independence. My phone dings again, indicating another message from my mother.

Mom[10:52 pm]: They think there’s some Neanderthals out there taking Marks away… is that even possible? I thought they were extinct…

Me[10:52 pm]: I thought that was just a bedtime story??

Mom[10:55 pm]: Seriously? It’s in the history books! Why would you think that?

Me[10: 57 pm]: You know why… I don’t really care for things involving those stupid Marks. Besides I learned that along with basic math, how am I supposed to remember that?

Mom[10:57 pm]: I know sorry. But you should at least know our history!

Me[10:58 pm]: Ok I’ll watch a documentary on it on Netflix right now

Mom[10:59 pm]: You just got off work! Go to sleep!

Me[10:59 pm]: yea yea goodnight <3

“Maybe we should just sleep Yuki?” I say as she jumps on my lap and continues to purr and make herself comfortable before I could even get up. “Oh well guess I’m not moving.”

I grab the remote and start Netflix and about to click on Stranger, a Korean drama that I binged in the night prior but a new planet earth documentary catches my eye. This time instead of endangered species it’s about Neanderthals, an extinct race of human beings.

“Would you look at that?” I say tilting my head in curiosity. “Guess I am gonna learn our history.”

As the documentary starts to play, I get a text from my boss that she needs me off for tomorrow so I could work a full shift the day after and I internally groan but realize I can sleep in tomorrow. The theme song of Planet Earth starts playing and I am reminded of my childhood when I see the photograph of the Neanderthals, they look more ape like than human. I begin to wonder if they really actually looked like that or if they were exaggerated or not. Would they still look like that or would evolution help them adapt among humans now? Assuming that they were still alive…

“Humans and Neanderthals have always had their differences and constantly were at war with each other. Evolution had blessed humans with the abilities to procreate faster by aiding humans to find suitable partners. Each generation of humans was more beautiful than the previous. The Neanderthals, unfortunately were unable to evolve like us human beings and they would rape and pillage humans in order to procreate. Thanks to our advancement in evolution, humans were able to develop better weapons and eradicate the Neanderthals…”

“Okay,” I said rolling my eyes, raising the remote control. “Enough of that genocide bullshit.”

“But what if that’s all a lie?” a man obscured in the video said. On the bottom where typically the name of professors or researchers would be credited, the name ‘John Doe’ was instead. This caused me to raise my eyebrows. This man did not want to be known. Of course what he just said is considered blasphemous. “What if I were to tell you that humans are not the apex predators-that we never were the apex predator? That our ancestors may have won the war but fabricated history for their benefit?”

“That’s quite possible,” I mumbled. “But how could you possibly obtain the evidence to prove that?”

“Of course there is no evidence left to prove that but I have dedicated my entire research into finding the remaining Neanderthals. Our ancestors could never locate the actual origin of the Neanderthals-”

“Seriously? I thought that place was just a myth!” I exclaimed, rousing Yuki from her sleep. With the flick of her tail she hopped off the couch and headed to my bedroom to sleep on my bed. “Sorry baby.”

The documentary went on and on about the possibility that Neanderthals may live among us. That everything we know is a lie, that Neanderthals were the ones who evolved, they were the ones that had Soulmate marks… but there was no evidence to support it.

I turned off the TV when the credits started to roll. “Well another documentary to piss off the republicans.” My eyes started to feel heavy and instead of going to my bed I just pulled the throw blanket over myself and fell asleep.

“Y/n look! Fireflies!” a boy with crescent moon eyes and Cheshire smile came running up to me with cupped hands. On his arm, was a Soulmate mark that wrapped around his entire arm, like a snake. It was the most beautiful I had ever seen. Most marks were abstract symbols but this was the first animal one I had ever seen.

“Can I see, Jimin?” another boy said excitedly running with buck teeth, almost like a bunny’s.

“No I want to show Y/n first!” and the boy called Jimin reached me and opened his hands.

The fireflies floated up the sky and both me and the other boy stared in awe. The other boy proceeded to try and catch the fireflies once more and when I looked back at Jimin, he was already staring at me with a gleam in his eyes. He reached for my hand and when our skin made contact, a shiver went through the both of us. When I looked at our joined hands, I noticed that instead of a snake tail on his wrist, the snake’s body seemed to morph into particles and the particles continued onto my arm and morphed into butterflies..like a puzzle piece.

“Y/N-”

Masterlist

#jimin #bts #jimin x reader #reader insert #soulmate au #soulmate!au #bts soulmate au #my work #kpop scenarios #kpop oneshots #bts smut #jimin smut

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