#and mind you. these are shit country roads. we don’t believe in the existence of pedestrians in this here city
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YOOO hellooo!!
Okay! It took me awhile to think of some titles, lmao, BUT:
Snap, Crackle, Pop
Road Trip
Lazy Day
Poker Face
Ghost Town
These are all from my braino but I DID at one point consult a fic title generator just to see what it cooked up and the first result was “Case of the Blue Pygmy” which— you don’t have to do anything with, but thought you’d appreciate bc it had me absolutely. HowLING. Catch Mel constantly referring to Jack as “the Blue Pygmy” from this point onwards, lmaooooo.
ALSO ALSO PLEASE tell me about Fino’s orcish rival, they sound fab!!! The Lucy in me is already shipping like mad! 🥺🥺💖
THANK YOU FOR ASKING ABOUT THIS ORCISH FELLOW OF FINO'S (not to sound like my 60 plus year old neighbour) BECAUSE I LOVE HIM TO BITS (orc friend shenanigans under cut)
ANYWAY, HERE'S WONDERWALL PROMPT REPLIES
Snap, Crackle, Pop
Would take place in Pyros House Arrest AU. Could also be called "How Jacqueline Finally Got Used To Having Her Evil Uncle Around".
CRYSTAL SPRINGS SPOILERS ABOUND
In which, during multiple midnight rice krispies cereal excursions, Jacqueline and Pyros start to sort of get along. Sort of. Would include: a lot of roasting (Pyros is like is this how Blaise is going to kill me dead if I don't behave?? His teenage/young adult daughter just roasts me to death with WORDS?!). Unpacking the whole, uh, evil mind control bit, and uh. All that. As well. She doesn't forgive her Uncle for taking away her agency and attempting to destroy everything she knows, however, she can make him see how bad that was. Y'know. Through ROASTING. Until the ice breaks with a shitty joke >:)
CRYSTAL SPRINGS SPOILERS UN-ABOUND
Road Trip
The Legates get de-magic'd and have to road trip cross country (countries?!?!?) to get their magic back in working order.
This one is an ANCIENT idea that popped into my head MANY years ago when I was at the Big Apple. Not New York, no; at the Big Apple, Canada, which is this roadside attraction off the highway in the Trenton/Kingston corridor. It's. Well.
It's a Big Apple.
Google it.
You Will See why I say it is a CURSED OBJECT. The guy who created it was inspired by DISNEYLAND I shit you not. The view from the top of the apple is abysmal. IT'S ON THE SIDE OF THE 401. THERE'S NOTHING TO SEE BUT TREES AND PEOPLE DRIVING BAD AND ANYWHERE FROM 20 TO 40KM OVER THE LIMIT. Their claim to fame, aside from the giant murderous apple that could TOTALLY be a weeping angel, are apple based products. They only got an apple orchard like in the last 5ish years. They have existed for at LEAST twenty.
ANYWAY they have this sign at the front of the shop that just has like, all these locations and how far from the Big Apple they are, and one of them is the North Pole, and every time I see that sign (I regret to admit I have stopped at the big apple too much for my liking), I think of a scenario where Jacqueline tries to poof herself and several legates, but their magic is fuckey so who KNOWS where they'll end up, and when they appear she sees the 401, sees the big apple, and is just like GOD FUCKING DAMMIT. Thankfully a witch she knows has a little shop down the street so they go there for help! (Mel perhaps? Who's to say!)
Lazy Day
Blaise tries to have a lazy day. It does not go well at all. This man is inCAPABLE of doing nothing. Winter catches him prepping dinner and she almost freezes him solid. She's like, this is not how a lazy day works. Blaise is like but we need to eat and Winter's like I CAN COOK, DEAR, BACK TO THE COUCH GO ON NOW DON'T MAKE ME KNOCK YOU OUT
Poker Face
Either Winter enters a poker tournament and cleans everybody out, gets banned from poker tournaments. OR. A 1000 word piece on all of Blaise's tells told from Winter's POV (maybe a stream of consciousness bc I think Winter's thoughts must be very funny) that explains why he's so easy to read (to her) because, believe it or not, Winter doesn't actually cheat at cards ;)
Ghost Town
Diteline kids find themselves in a right pickle when they are trapped in a literal ghost down. It is deserted except for ghosts. Robyn and Eira/Bianca (still haven't decided on which name for her ): won't stop bickering about which one of the two of them got the three siblings stuck in the Ghost Town. Robyn's like you shouldn't have opened the weird door! And Eira/Bianca is like YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WENT hey sis check out this cool scroll, and ACTIVATED IT MISTER OU LOOK AT ME, I CAN WARLOCK!
While the two youngest are arguing, Joy reaches out and touches a ghost and it goes from a passive little floating sad sack to a murderous violence machine, making things about 1000% worse.
So now the three have to fend off all the murderous shades while trying to figure out why they're trapped and if putting the ghosts back in the afterlife will free them from Ghost Town because Mom's making burritos tonight and Mater made an angel food cake with SPRINKLES IN IT and this is one of the FAVOURITE dinner/dessert combos the kiddos have.
Object: Figure out why the ghost town exists, fight the ghosts to get the town fixed, and make it back home in time for dinner!
Their moms have no idea where the kids are today. It's just a fun evening of cooking for them, while their kids are facing The Horrors.
---
"The Blue Pygmy" sounds like some kind of very inconvenient little monster, so I think Mel's onto something with dubbing Jack that lmao. Either that, or it's a weird magibean cold/flu 😂😂😂😂.
DR. MILLER, WE'VE GOT PYGMYS, CODE BLUE and she's like well SHIT! and rushed over to be a bamf doctor witch as she do!
Anyway, thanks for sending this in!
(from this post: send me a made up fic title and i'll tell you what i'd write about)
RIGHT SO ORC FRIEND
I haven't even NAMED HIM YET but he snuck his way right into my heart (and also Fino's! Fun fact! Of all 4 kiddos Fino is the only one to ACTUALLY TELL A PERSON HE LIKES THAT HE LIKES THEM. He's the suave one out of all 4, believe it or not. Jack is like "I'll keep everything bottled up inside until I DIE", Jacqueline is the most OBLIVIOUS mother fucker and then, when aware, an absolute MESS of a magibeing, and Fiera panics hard before finally attempting to take the first step if she doesn't get overwhelmed with uh. EMOTIONS and EVERY WORD SHE WNATS TO SAY EXPLODING ALL AT ONCE while she's trying to do the asking) and I am soft for him and Fino! Ah!
BUT ANYWAY when Fins is in caster school, he meets this orc who always, always, ALWAYS has to get better marks than him. It's like a competition. Very one sided, bc Fino's just vibing and happy to learn. But Orc Friend is like, if I do not surpass this sprite I will surely perish.
Turns out, the orc is under a lot of pressure from a parent to DO BETTER for w/e reason, and our orc friend is very stressed until one day he like, explodes when Fino gets half a mark better than him on an ALREADY PERFECT TEST.
Fino, who has 0 concept of this competition being a thing, is like dude. Okay. Why is this a thing. Why are you so upset, the only reason I got a half mark more was b/c of this doodle here! Like why are you pitting us against each other, that's how you get RANK mental health!
And the orc admits that his parent or parents really want him to be top of his class and DO BETTER and he's really, really trying but he doesn't LIKE it and it's taking the joy out of learning all the magic shit and Fino is, of course, appalled bc learning is SO FUN TO HIM. HE LOVES THAT SHIT. How DARE someone make learning NOT FUN. ILLEGAL
So they become study buds and Fino helps him like, love learning again. Orc friend does a LOT better when Fino is making it fun and helping him not feel the pressures of home life NEEDING him to do good! He's just doing it! And their one-sided rivalry ship becomes a funky two-sided FRIENDLY rivalry that they both ham up on occasion (Fiera is very proud when Fino fake dies when Orc Friend does better than HIM by half a mark, Orc Friend thinks it's gd hilarious) and Orc Friend now has a Fino Friend!
Anyway, they become roommates later on and Fino brings him to holidays and shit and he v much becomes one of the family and is often referred to as Fino's partner :) I'm still debating if Fins is on the aro scale or not, so this bit's a little murky, BUT it is so important to me that you know that when Fino's like oh I like this dude more than normal, he is like to Orc Friend "Hey man, I think ur real neat, wanna go out??" Like. It is SO IMPORTANT TO ME THAT YOU KNOW, THAT EVERYONE KNOWS, THAT FINO IS THE ONLY FROSTY KIDDO TO ACT NORMAL WHEN LIKING SOMEONE. SO IMPORTANT TO ME TO MAKE THIS KNOWN.
okay I opened this ask with this bit but I have gotten uh, carried away with Orc Friend (who feels like a Ken?? But that CAN'T be right), so imma just. Slide this under a cut and pretend I STARTED with the uh, original ask box shenanigan :o
but YEAH. Holidays at Frost Manor are FUN in later years. Fino and Orc Friend are like, sparring together in the backyard, talking smack and shit (it's their flirting). Fiera's latest catch is probably schmoozing the parents, unless it's her one long term partner who is SO fucking normal, he's probably like, grilling with Blaise and Fiera is just sitting at the bench like, ogling him like "my god. my god he is flipping burgers while holding the WORST beer ever. He is so normal. holy shit. I'm love him".
Dite and Jacqueline are being v cute, or, Dite is being a sweetheart while Jacqueline either A) ogles Dite being sunshine incarnate while Fiera ogles mister normal, or, B) doing something absolutely batshit with the Diteline kids (depending where in the timeline we are) and dodging Fins and Orc Friend sparring.
Suddenly Jack goes flying through a window, lands in a heap. Killian sticks his head out the broken window, laughing at Jack's pain.
Just another holiday at Frost Manor ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
#long post#sorta#dani answers#definitelyy-not-a-vampire#ask box shenanigans#crystal springs#crystal springs FACTS#fino's orc friend#frost family#I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS ABOUT THE BLORBOS AS YOU CAN SEE#AND DITELINE KIDS ARE THE DEFINITION OF 'SHENANIGANS'#Blaise has to relax in that scenario bc of either too much work related stress OR he got a magical sickness and needs to rest it off#but refuses to rest#so winter's like. HOUNDING HIM#the BLORBOS. I JUST. AH.
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A tree that unexpectedly blossomed in April
April 30, 2023 1:26AM
The last couple of weeks have been messy. Has it really been only 2 weeks? Let alone, the month. April has truly been crazy.
On the first week, I had a breakdown of my moral values and reconsidered my entire existence. I decided that I will not follow the rules imposed by people who do not have my interest in my mind and who do not respect the rules they themselves created. I decided to take action and attack the adversities I was faced with - which meant taking the decision to move out from an environment that felt like it had me at my throat. I bought a bike and disregarded the rules. I cycled aggressively to the lakeshore, ate a subway sandwich and threw the paper on the rocks. I participated in a student film as an actor. I got closer to that someone who confessed to me.
On the second week, summer came. No, really. Intense, bright sunshine and t-shirt weather that lasted for a few days. My mood was through the roof. I bought a new t-shirt that gave me massive confidence and signified the departure from an older self. Shit hit the fan with that girl who confessed to me and was my friend for a year. She kept asking me to be her boyfriend until I snapped because I couldn’t deal with her past - and her still not being able to acknowledge her wrongdoings. She revealed to me she has a mood disorder, but did not explain anything about what it means. We both hurt each other. I reflected a lot and tried to make amends, only to be met by her insults and emotional behavior.
On the third week, the weather became colder again and my anger towards the girl subdued. I started to research more about mood disorders. Expanding one’s knowledge is important. I wrote a letter of reflection and apology to her, but only sent it the following week, with no reply from her. In the meantime, I met so many new people. I even hung out with a girl that spontaneously invited me to her university’s game jam. And - one evening - I got bubble tea with my good friend, saw the cherry blossoms at night, and after saying bye to him I immediately ran across some other friends! It was almost 11pm but we spontaneously went to get dinner as they were coming back from a road trip.
I’ve been meeting people every single day. I feel like I’ve been welcomed to a community and at the same time, I’m experiencing a renaissance of my social sphere. It’s as if I’m a teenager again, this time around with social skills that are much sharper and with peers that adore me.
On the fourth week, I said goodbye (actually “see you in a few months”) to my Japanese friends who are leaving the country. Right, I didn’t mention this. I also bought tickets to Japan. That’s a story for another day!
A Japanese girl - who’s part of the group - told me she was jealous of the others as they randomly came across me the night of the road trip, but she didn’t. She was left behind in another car that day. I told her we could meet again before she leaves and invited her to see the cherry blossoms. Unfortunately, one of the guys in the group “intercepted” me as he asked to join us. He did join us but I managed to go out with her again today. Who knows - it might be for the best that things turned out like they did. On a rainy, foggy morning we met at the cafe and talked. She had her usual chai latte. I had my usual matcha latte. She was late... but I didn’t care too much. She brought me japanese snacks and we also took a few selfies together. I don’t know what is it, but I feel happy. For some very brief moments, I smiled like an idiot and felt happy like I did when I was a teenager. How can I make it work with a girl that lives on the other side of the globe? But wait, we aren’t even dating. Are we?
When I stop and think about it, I can’t believe I am who I am today. It’s amazing I was able to recover from the overwhelming, consuming damage the pandemic had on my mental and physical health. On top of that, I became a permanent resident, overcame losing one job and losing the new one too! I feel grateful for all the good experiences and good people I had the chance to spend time with.
At 24 years old, I feel like I’ve started to truly attract girls for the first time. It’s still hard for me to deal with their socially-oriented nature as I’m a person who deals better with things than people. I’ve improved substantially on that too, though. I’m beginning to think that this is what a girl might feel like at 16 when she receives a lot of attentions from the opposite sex that she never received before. Who will you even choose to go on a date with?
With great power comes great responsibility.
I feel just like that - a tree that unexpectedly blossomed in April.
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247 of 2023
[zelthie]
What’s were you doing before you got on the computer?
I was at work and then I bought trash bags.
Is there anything you really want right now?
To travel to the sea.
What’s the best gift you’ve ever gotten?
Nielsje.
What’s a song you think the world needs to listen to?
I’m not the one to force anyone to do anything.
Has there ever been a person you regret ever being friends with?
Yes, one certain girl. She’s a liar and a cheater.
Do you think you have a good understanding on love?
I guess so. Love has many forms, it’s not always romantic.
You just discovered a new color! What would you name it?
Lol no. I’m not good with words.
What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?
Strawberry.
What do you want to do on your honeymoon?
We went for a weekend to Waterloo.
What’s one thing you remember learning in school?
Physics.
Are you more of a cat or dog person?
Definitely a cat person.
How do you want to be remembered by people?
As someone who made a difference.
Do you like road trips?
I love road trips. All of them.
Do you think Medical Marijuana should be legalized?
We don’t have such concerns here. In my country, weed is legal in small amounts.
If you were forced to dye your hair another color, what color would you get?
Nobody can force me to do anything. I want bright purple, by the way.
Are you excited for anything?
Next visit at my parents, whenever it’s gonna happen.
What do you think of your parent(s)?
I love them, but I’m aware of their flaws.
Are your grandparents dead?
Yeah, they are.
What celebrity do you think should of never become famous?
All TikTok idiots.
What’s your favorite thing to do online?
One certain forum.
Are you glad George W. Bush is out of office?
Why do you expect an European to give a shit about American presidents?
If you could appear on any TV show, what show would you choose?
No.
What does your full name look like without the letters t,a,i,o,e,l,n or s?
Do you really think I’m gonna share even a hint of my last name here?
Your mood summed up into one word?
Okay-ish.
How often do you talk to other people about the weather?
Lol it’s the default small talk here, no kidding.
Are you doing anything else besides taking this survey right now?
Watching TV with one eye.
What’s a name you wouldn’t mind having?
Joris.
What’s your favorite thing to wear that you own?
All my band tees.
What do you think of Barbie dolls?
They exist.
When you were little, did you ever want to go to Disneyland?
No. Never been interested.
What’s the first thing you thought in your head when you woke up today?
Omg, work.
If your best friend confessed that they can see the future, you would…?
Ask if everything’s okay with him.
Write a random quote that comes to your head:
Nope.
What’s your opinion on milk chocolate?
I don’t like any chocolate, yeah lol I’m Belgian.
What about Dark Chocolate?
No, ew.
You do know that white chocolate isn’t even really chocolate, right?
Yeah, but who cares. It’s the only chocolate that’s even edible at times.
Do you get annoyed when surveys mention a band you've never heard of?
Why would I be annoyed? I’m pretty sure you’ve never heard about my favourites, too.
What’s your opinion about Katy Perry’s song “I kissed a girl”?
I don’t care about it.
What’s your least favorite pizza topping?
Pineapple.
What would you do if you discovered the US was now drafting for the war?
I don’t care about America.
Are you even living in America, or are you from another country?
I’m Belgian. Yes Belgium is a country in Western Europe. No I’ve never ever lived in the US.
What’s your favorite social website?
Instagram, for photography.
Do you believe in heaven? If so, what’s it like? If not, why?
I believe heaven is on earth with the right people.
What’s your favorite video game?
I don’t play video games.
In your opinion, is Bzoink the best place to find fun surveys?
One of the few.
What’s your opinion of high school?
Our education system doesn’t work like that.
Do you prefer the country or city?
I prefer the suburbs.
Texting: Is it fun, evil, boring, or none of the above?
None of the above, it’s just a form of communication.
What email service do you use for your main (or only) email account?
Hotmail.
What’s your favorite dumb pick-up line?
No.
What are your plans for the next 48 hours?
Enjoying the weekend.
Did you ever read “Captain Underpants” when you were little?
Never heard of it.
What’s better: The old Cartoon Network, or the new one? Or do you not care?
I don’t give a shit.
Disney Channel shows are all pretty cheesy, aren’t they?
Yeah, they are.
What’s your opinion on the Jonas Brothers?
I don’t care about them.
What are some of your favorite singers/bands?
HRFTR, Vildhjarta, Katatonia, Baas B, Suicide Commando, XXXTENTACION, Lil Peep, these are my first thought.
Why do the lead singers in bands always get the most recognition?
Because they sing? They’re the most recognisable.
Did you ever believe in the Tooth Fairy?
No, it’s not a thing here.
What’s your favorite type of weather?
Warm and sunny or overcast without rain, or foggy or thunderstorms.
What’s your opinion on reading books?
I love books and I love to read.
You’re given a chance to act in a Hollywood blockbuster! Would you accept?
NOPE. I’m not interested in that shit.
What it if it was a movie directed by Tim Burton?(He directed Sweeney Todd)
Who cares about such shit.
How do you feel about Taco Bell?
We don’t even have it in Europe.
Are you hungry right now?
No, I’m not.
How often do you go on to YouTube?
Every day.
It’s possible to be addicted to anything… What are you addicted to?
Life.
What’s your opinion of Walgreens?
Never heard of it.
Back when Spongebob Squarepants was famous, were you interested in it?
No, it’s moronic.
What’s your dream pet?
My dream is that Victoria is immortal. She’s 12 already, so she’s kinda elderly for a cat.
You see a mermaid while relaxing on the beach with friends. What now?
What? Give me half of your joint please, I want to have visions, too.
Who’s been your favorite teacher growing up, and why?
My biology teacher in secondary school, she was awesome.
When you were little, did you ever like Pokemon?
A little, but I wouldn’t call myself a fan.
How often do you get headaches?
Well, as a person with epilepsy I’m 50% more likely to have migraines, and that’s what it is. I have migraines every once in a while.
Do you have any songs stuck in your head right now? If so, what?
Yeah, Wrong by Novastar. Pretty song.
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Lex x Ryland - Archived Thread
“Judas’s on a warpath, Scout’s stirrin’ drama with Dainn, Leora and Roman are bein’ all weird again, and Genesis just showed up. Way I’m seein’ it, we should probably take a small campin’ trip before we get dragged into the not so fun chaos.”
“Uh-oh, what’d I miss, or is Mercury in gatorade again? Either way, you know I’m never gonna say no to a little roadtrip just me and you. Besides, we still got some makin’ up to do from me being away from here for a bit, and it’s the perfect time of year for sleepin’ under the stars.”
“Not that he needs a reason, honestly, but I think him and Leora got into it and your sister fights dirty. Remind me not to piss that one off because I was not expectin’ her to go that low.” It had been impressive and more than a little terrifying and he never wanted to be on the receiving end of that girl’s ire. “It really is. Figured we can head up north, look for a lake to camp out by and ignore the rest of the world for a couple of days.”
“Okay, spill. I need all the gory details,” Lex laughed, knowing pretty well what Leora was capable of, but he always enjoyed hearing all the gossip when he hadn’t been there to personally witness what went down.
“I hear Montana’s pretty all year round, but especially in the summer. I mean, they do call it Big Sky Country, right? I’m sure we can find a spot to camp where there aren’t any rednecks within spittin’ distance who might object to us being there.”
“I don’t know all the details, but I did hear her callin’ him a ”bottom feeding, low life coke head with a shrimp dick.“ and throwing in his face that Chayton was the only one that actually liked his sorry ass. I don’t want to know what for shit she would say about me if I was on her bad side.” And he had no intentions of finding out if he could help it.
“Montana? Yeah, I think we can manage that. Lay out under the stars like we used to on the good nights. Just us, the sky, and a campfire. Can’t think of nothin’ better.”
“God damn, right for the jugular, huh,” Lex whistled, grinning broadly as he tried to picture the look on Jude’s face when Leora called him that, Lex figuring there would have been the smallest moment of shocked offense before Judas got angry and said something stupid in retaliation.
“Kinda feels like it’s been a long time since we last did that. Gotta admit I’ve been missing life on the open road, to be honest. Not that I don’t love having a real roof over my head, but there’s not a whole lot to do or see in a ghost town in the middle of the desert.”
“Like I said, remind me not to piss that one off.” He was honestly surprised the argument between Leora and Judas hadn’t come to blows, but he would have easily put his money on Leora. He had a feeling she fought dirty no matter what kind of fight she was in.
“I don’t think we’ve gone camping, really camping, since we got here. Never thought I’d miss sleeping in the back of the truck as much I do,” he admitted, but it had been his home since he was nineteen. “Pretty sure I still have most of the on the road gear together so packing everything up shouldn’t take long?”
“Yeah, things have been kinda busy, haven’t they?”
Between everything that had happened in staying off the radar of Ryland’s family and Lex finding out he not only had a bunch of family he didn’t even know about, but that he wasn’t nearly as human as he was raised to believe, it had been difficult to make plans to go traveling anywhere for a while.
“How long do you wanna go for?”
“Just a little bit.”
It had been challenging, uprooting his entire existence and learning to adjust to being around the kind of people he had been trained to, well, murder since he had been a child, but he was doing his best. Lex was one thing, the others, well, he was still trying to figure all of that out.
“I was thinking at least a three-day weekend, maybe a little longer if the weather holds up. Unless you have something else in mind?”
“I was thinkin’ more along the lines of a week? Maybe more?” Lex answered, figuring that they might as well make the most of it if they were going to drive all the way out to Montana, since, depending on where in Montana they ended up, it was a minimum of a thirteen hour drive straight through just to get across state lines.
“I mean, we could even stop off at Yellowstone on the way there? Break up the drive time a little with some sight seeing?”
“We’re definitely going to need to bring the trailer if we’re going to be out that long so we can bring extra gas for the truck and firewood. Your mom said we were free to use that any time we wanted to, might as well take advantage of it and not need to see any other people on our trip,” he suggested, wanting to have Lex completely to himself for as much of the time as they could manage.
“We’ll be timing it for the Perseid’s meteor shower too. Can’t think of a better time to be camping out.”
“Yeah, sounds good to me,” Lex agreed, more than happy to make the trip more of a proper road trip vacation than just a weekend campout.
It wasn’t just the sleeping out under the stars and the scenery aspect that Lex was looking forward to. Getting some time alone with Ryland without any interruptions, and a proper chance to catch up on other things also drove the appeal of staying out a while longer.
“Just you and me, the open road and hopefully nobody else around for miles.”
Ryland wrapped an arm around Lex’s waist and pulled him close, stealing a soft, slow kiss. The solace of their bedroom was fine, soundproofed even, but it didn’t beat the solitude that being on the road gave them, ensconced in the cab of the truck while the rest of the world passed from the window.
“I did get a new mattress for the back of the truck. No more waiting for the air one to fill up. And it’s more comfortable.” He had bought it while Lex had been away and his bet had clearly paid off.
Lex hummed against Ry’s lips, melting into the kiss with a sigh.
Oh how he’d missed this while he’d been away, and being reminded just how much made him ache all the more for the attention and affection as he dove his fingers into Ryland’s hair on the back of his head.
“Oh? Well then I guess we’re definitely going to have to give that a good breakin’ in, aren’t we?” he purred with a teasing smirk.
The feeling of Lex’s fingers in his hair was enough to pull a soft groan from Ryland’s lips as he pressed against him more firmly. He hated when Lex was away, but he understood why he had to go. There were just some things that he was better off learning from his family and fae could always teach fae better than anything else could.
“Guess it’s a good thing we’re going campin’ then, ain’t it? Really add onto the plan to make it memorable.”
“Mm, can’t wait…”
That wasn’t an understatement. The more Lex thought about the idea, the sooner he wanted to make it a reality, and he was more than willing to pack up and go that same day if necessary.
“When are we goin’?” he asked, stealing another kiss. “Because I don’t know how long my self control is gonna hold out ‘til I can get you all to myself with no interruptions.”
Ry understoond the imatience because he felt it too. The need to be back on the road, even if just for a week or so, was definitely something he hadn’t been able to shake. Hell, if he had it his way, if it were safe, he’d probably still live out of his truck.
“I’d say how quick do you think we can pack but I know the answer to that. How soon do you think you’re mom’ll be fine about you dipping again since you, ya know, sort of just got back?”
“Honestly, so long as I stick around long enough for dinner tonight, it probably wouldn’t take much more than talkin’ all too casually about making up for lost time for her to be wavin’ me out the door again,” Lex grinned, figuring the last anyone wanted to hear about was how badly he wanted to get his back blown out by his boyfriend.
“I mean, if Leora can gross people out like that, gotta be worth a shot, right?”
“Well that just sounds like a very awkward family dinner,” he laughed, not at all surprised by Lex’s plan. “It’ll probably work though. I mean, everyone tries to push Leora out of the entire bar when she starts. Not that I blame them. I swear she has two modes and they’re both terrifying.”
“So, we can get everything packed before dinner and then take off after if your plan works?”
“Yeah, definitely,” Lex nodded, grinning broadly at the plan.
He wouldn’t go too overboard with grossing everyone out, since he was confident he could just speak directly to Cord anyway and avoid getting too far into that kind of conversation anyway.
“If we head straight up into Idaho and over, we can probably find a nice spot along Snake River to camp tonight, then go on the Yellowstone from there.”
“Okay, was this my idea or yours because that makes it sound like you’ve been wantin’ to bring up hittin’ the road for a bit now too,” he teased, more than happy to follow through with Lex’s suggestion. It would definitely make for a good run and let them get in as much as possible.
“I’ll check in with Del and Peri to make sure there’s no hunters in the areas we’re hittin’. Don’t want to run into any complications.”
It was still weird to be so far out of the network that he actually had to call someone else for intel, but he wasn’t complaining.
“Yeah, I kinda have. Guess it’s ‘cause I missed you so much while I was away and I just want you all to myself again for a bit to make up for it,” Lex admitted, not even remotely hesitant at confessing that he’d been itching for a road trip for at least a couple of months.
“Hopefully there’ll be nobody even the next states over so we’ll be clear of any unexpected issues.”
Sure, Lex knew that it was still risky heading out away from the bar, but staying put in one place for too long always seemed to make him go a little stir-crazy after too long.
“Sounds like we cope with being parted the same way,” he mused, tracing a finger along the edge of Lex’s jaw just to have an excuse to touch him more. “You know all you ever have to do is ask. The odds of me ever saying no to you are slim to none.”
Lex was the center of Ryland’s universe and he would do and give anything just to make him smile for even a second. If he wanted to slip off into the night like they used to, who was he to say no?
“I’ll call Peri and Del on the road and see if there’s anyone between us and our stops so we can make changes if we need to. Promise.”
“Well I’m asking right now,” Lex purred teasingly with a smirk, chasing the physical affection and nuzzling into Ryland’s hand like a cat demanding scritches.
In response, Lex danced his own fingertips lightly over the back of Ry’s neck, tracing little circles there.
“Fingers crossed we’re all clear…”
“Pretty sure I asked first this time,” he countered, a chuckle chasing the words before he was kissing Lex again.
That small, gentle touch was enough to make Ryland shiver and he considered, for a moment, asking to skip dinner entirely just to have an excuse to fall into bed for a few hours. But he knew it would be much better with the kind of privacy that came with how they did camping.
“I don’t know of any issues between here and our destination, so it should be fine.”
The kiss had Lex feeling all the more impatient, and he was sure that Ryland felt the same after them having been apart for so long, so Lex was also considering how much he’d love to skip dinner to get Ry alone and have him all to himself in every way possible.
“I hope it stays that way,” he murmured softly, a little seriousness drifting into his tone at acknowledging how quickly things had gone from bad to worse the last time they hit trouble, but at least they could both be safe in the knowledge that Atticus wouldn’t be a problem for them or anyone else ever again.
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I had the bright idea to walk to the auto shop to retrieve my car today. Map predicted about an hour and a half walk
WELL.
Well.
#WELL.#Con stop yapping#I had to cross two streams that only had a car bridge over it with no pedestrian space#the first one I splashed across. the second one was too deep so I took a chance on the road#then there was long stretches of mud and construction blocking the path#and mind you. these are shit country roads. we don’t believe in the existence of pedestrians in this here city#had to cross the road twice. there are no such things as crossing lights#took about 3 hours.#and the auto shop ISNT DONE CHANGING MY TIRES.#I got slapped by some gnarly thorns trying to cross the stream fuck me
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Issues
Hey, hey it’s your loyal fan! ❤ I thought of this, maybe you’ll like to write about it. Angry sex with Henry, because the girl and he hated each other because their families are close and practically they grew up together. 😄
Pairing: Henry Cavill x Actress!Reader
Warnings: Infinity War spoilers, Bratty!Henry, swearing, smut, fluff, angst.
A/N: Thank you for the request! I absolutely love this idea, I hope you enjoy! I also *definitely* did not base the smut part off of a recent hook up ;)
You were really dreading going to your neighbors cook out with your parents. When they had told you about it, you almost said no, knowing Henry would be there. You didn’t hate his family, you just hated him.
The two of you actually used to be the best of friends. Up until the age of 18, the two of you were inseparable. Then, he started acting, and never had time for you anymore. While you understood that he was busy, it still hurt. The moment your friendship ended didn’t come until you were 24, when he had a break in filming and came back to Jersey for Christmas, and treated you like you didn’t even exist. All he did for two weeks straight was talk about his experience acting, and brag about how hot his new girlfriend was. Not a word to you about anything, and you knew that was it.
It was after that Christmas, that you decided if he could make it as an actor, you could as well. You auditioned for an agent the next week, and once you made it through that step, you started acting.
One of your more notable roles was in the Marvel series, playing the character Mockingbird. It was one of your first acting gigs, and everyone was surprised you got such a huge role right away, but you had more than proved yourself to everyone after the first Avengers movie. You had always wondered what Henry thought, but you never asked. Although you had started acting to get back at Henry, you found that you absolutely loved acting.
It was only a week ago that you had finished filming Infinity War, and had 2 weeks off before you started filming Endgame, so when your mom asked if you wanted to come home and visit for a little, you had said yes. You didn’t know at the time that that would entail you going to the Cavill’s house for a cookout. You were going to say no, but your mom insisted, and you agreed.
As you looked yourself in the mirror in your bedroom, you knew you weren’t prepared to see him. You had seen him a few times over the years, at award shows and such, and he had never taken a second look at you. If he did, he would instantly roll his eyes. You tried to ignore it, but it still stung a little.
You took a deep breath, and looked at your outfit for the cookout. It wasn’t anything special, just a yellow sundress with white flowers on it. It accentuated your body in the best way possible, and you weren’t complaining. You paired it with a pair of white Vans, and you were ready.
As you walked down the stairs, you felt the dread swirling in your stomach, but you pushed it out of your mind. If you made it through at least 3 hours, you could say you were tired, and head home. You grabbed the fruit platter your mom had prepared, and followed your family out of the house and over to the Cavill’s.
You instantly heard Henry laughing loudly, and had to mentally prepare yourself to face him. He was never verbally rude, it was only side glances and eye rolls, but it still took a toll on you.
You walked in, and greeted Marianne and Colin, while Henry played football with his nephews further down the yard. You spared him a glance at his back, but turned to help your mom set up the three lawn chairs she had brought.
As you got yourself a drink, you felt Henry’s eyes burning into your back, and moments later, his scent surrounded you. You rolled you eyes, before turning to face him. He rolled his eyes, and stepped to the side to allow you to get out of his way, which you gladly did. Your mom smirked at you as you rolled your eyes and walked away.
“Still not getting along?” She asked as you sat next to her. You scoffed. “Nope. I don’t even know what I did for him to hate me so much.” You said, and your mom brushed a piece of hair out of your eyes.
“I don’t know honey. Maybe you should ask him,” She suggested, and you almost scoffed again.
A few minutes later, you made your way into the house to use the bathroom, and your mom took that opportunity to brag about you. As you exited the house, you almost laughed at Henry. He was glaring at the grass in front of him, in a way that almost made you believe he had laser vision, while your mom talked about your career.
“She actually just booked a role in this new film coming out, called Knives Out! it had Chris Evans and Daniel Craig. It doesn’t start filming until next year, but it sounds exciting!” Your mom said, and everyone smiled, other than Henry.
“How was filming for Infinity War, Y/N?” Marianne asked, as you sat down.
“It was great. We filmed in Atlanta and Scotland, which was pretty cool. I can’t say a whole lot about it, but it was fun. Especially getting to work with every one again. A fair amount of the cast dies in this one, so I’m excited to see how Endgame is going to end,” You said, and everyone smiled. Henry scoffed quietly, but you chose to ignore it.
You continued talking to the people at the cookout, mainly your mom, until Marianne asked if you and Henry could go to the store and pick up a few things that she was out of. You said yes, and Henry rolled his eyes again, before reluctantly agreeing.
You grabbed your car keys and waited for him at the gate to the backyard. You noticed he pulled his car keys out of his pocket, and scoffed. “We’re taking my car,” He said, unlocking his Aston Martin.
You hit the start button of your Dodge Ram 1500, before turning to him. “No. We’re taking my truck. I refuse to be on of those ‘girls’ in your car that I see all over the news.” You said, and Henry sighed before locking his car and walking over to your truck. You got in the car and put your keys in the ignition. Your phone connected to the bluetooth, and just to annoy him even more, you decided to play ‘F-150′ by Robyn Ottolini.
“I can drive by your street and not feel a thing
Play all of those songs you used to play me
Get drunk with my friends and not think to call
Could think of you a little, but I don’t think of you at all
I’ve been growing up, getting strong, moving on…”
Henry groaned as you pulled out of the driveway. “Really? Country music?” He said. You chuckled.
“I thought you liked country music?” You asked, and he rolled his eyes once more. “Yeah, actual country music. Not whatever girly shit this is that you think it country music.”
You felt your frustration growing but attempted to push it back down. “Well, it’s my truck, and I want to listen to this.” You spat at him as you turned the corner.
“I’m just saying I hate it. I thought you’d have better taste in music considering who your friends are.” He muttered, looking out the window. You furrowed your brows.
“Whats that supposed to mean?” You demanded, and Henry laughed sarcastically before turning to you.
“It means that you can sit there all high and mighty thinking you’re better than everyone just because you’re a Marvel actor. You can brag about being friends with Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan all you want, but it doesn’t make you any better than me.” He grumbled, and you had had enough.
You slowed the car down at the red light before you spoke. “What the fuck did I ever do to you to make you hate me so much? We used to be best friends, and now you treat me like shit for no apparent reason. Why?” You demanded. Henry turned his body to face yours.
“You didn’t even congratulate me on my first acting job. You didn’t even pick up the phone, and at Christmas, you didn’t even talk to me. You shut me out for no reason, so I have a right to be mad about it,” He said, as the light turned green and the car began moving again. You scoffed.
“I wasn’t the one who shut you out. You came home and all you talked about was filming, and how ‘hot’ your girlfriend at the time was. Of course I didn’t want to sit there and listen to you brag, when you walked right by me, and didn’t even say hi.”
“You didn’t even come to the airport with Mum and Dad to pick me up! You were clearly mad and jealous, and I didn’t want to cause a blowout!”
“I wasn’t at the airport because I had finals you dumb ass. If you’d have noticed, I arrived the same time you did. I waved at you, and you rolled your eyes at me, and started blabbering on and on about your life, without even asking me for an explanation. If you had asked, I would have explained and apologized.”
Henry turned to face you again, and the car turned down the road that would lead into town. “You didn’t even call me. You had my number.”
You pulled the car over abruptly on the dirt road. “NO YOU DIDN’T!” You screamed. “YOU SAID ‘CALL ME’ AND NEVER GAVE ME A NUMBER! AND WHEN YOUR MOM FOUND OUT AND GAVE IT TO ME, YOU NEVER PICKED UP! ALL I KEPT GETTING YOUR ASSISTANT, SO I STOPPED CALLING, AND SETTLED ON TALKING TO YOU AT CHRISTMAS!” You screamed again.
Henry jaw locked before opening his mouth again. “YOU COULD HAVE SAID THAT YOU DIDN’T HAVE IT! I WOULD HAVE GIVEN IT TO YOU! I WAS GOING TO ASK YOU TO BE MY DATE TO THE BAFTA’S AFTER YOU GOT NOMINATED FOR THE FIRST AVENGER’S MOVIE, BUT YOU DECIDED TO GO WITH SEBASTIAN, EVEN THOUGH HE WASN’T IN THE MOVIE! YOU WERE JUST TRYING TO MAKE ME JEALOUS!”
Your brow furrowed. “We were already filming Captain America The Winter Soldier then, and I asked him because he is like a big brother to me, and I could call you because you hated my guts. Chris had a girlfriend, and everyone else was busy, so Seb came with me. And if you’re going to sit here and just ‘assume’ Seb and I are dating because we went to an awards show together, you’re fucking insane. He has a girlfriend, so don’t even go there. For the record, if you had asked me to go with you. I would have said yes.” You said. Henry laughed again, and you wanted to hit him.
“Yeah sure you would have. Why did you even get into acting in the first place? Because I did, and you were jealous?” He questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.
You looked out the windshield. “That was a part of it, but mainly I did it because I was head over heels in love with you, and you abandoned me. Do you even know how much it hurt me to hear you talking about your girlfriend that year at Christmas? Do -” You started to say, before you were cut off by Henry undoing your seat belt, and attempting to pull you over the middle console.
It took a few tries, but he eventually got it, and you were straddling his waist. He looked at you angrily, before slamming his lips to yours. You yelped into the kiss, but melted into it seconds later. Henry ran his hands over your hips and under your dress. His fingers grazed over your covered mound, and moaned at the feeling of the soaked fabric. His hands traveled back up to your hips, and pressed you down onto his growing hard on.
His lips traveled from your mouth and down your neck. He sucked a hickey into where your neck connects with your shoulder. You gripped the back of his head, and moaned at the feeling of his stubble ticking your skin. His right hand traveled in between your legs, and pushed your underwear to the side.
His fingers traveled through your wetness, before he pulled his hand away. You whimpered at the loss of contact, but you swallowed it as you glanced down and saw him undoing his pants. He pulled his hard cock out seconds later. You barely got a glance at it, before he was pushing inside of you, slowly.
Once you were fully seated on his cock again, he tilted the seat all the way back before placing his hands behind your knees. You went to move, but squeaked when you felt a slap land on your right butt cheek.
“Don’t you fucking move,” Henry growled, and all you could do was nod. Henry adjusted slightly, before he started pounding into you right off the bat. He let go of your left knee, and pulled your shoulder until your shoulder crashed into his. He took both of your hips into his hands, as he quickened his pace. You let out a moan, but that earned you another swat on the butt.
“Shut the fuck up,” He grunted out, his hands moving from your hips to take two full handfuls of your ass. “Been pissing me off for years, and it seems the only way you’ll shut the fuck up is when a dick is in your fucking pussy. If you make a fucking sound, I'm going to stop, and leave you all wet and dripping for the rest of the day.” He threatened, and all you could do again was nod.
He slapped your ass again, and grunted, his hips snapping against yours quicker. Henry trailed his right hand over your hip, and in between your open legs. He traced his fingers over the skin of his cock that was quickly disappearing and reappearing inside of you, before trailing up and over your soaked pussy, his thumb finding your clit instantly. he rubbed quick circles, and you felt the pressure of your orgasm quickly approaching.
“You better fucking cum before I do or you’re not coming at all.” Henry spat, yet another slap landing on your butt cheek. You bit back a whimper, and nodded. He gripped your hips and pushed you up before his thumb returned to your clit. “I wanna see your face when you fucking cum. When you fall apart on my cock, ‘cuz I’m the only one who can fuck you this fucking good, right? Do Chris and Seb fuck you this good? Have you drunk off just my cock in less than 5 minutes? Bet they can't,” He grumbled, and your back arched and the pressure grew even more. You clawed at his chest to alert him about your orgasm, but that earned you a slap on the thigh.
“I’m about to cum, so you better hurry the fuck up and finish,” He growled, and you nodded pathetically. You felt your legs start to shake, you and you bit down on your lip as it washed over you, and you squeezed Henry’s cock in between your walls. He gripped your hips, and pulled you down on his cock as he came, and filled you with spurt after spurt of his cum.
You collapsed onto him moments later, and teared up when you felt him brushing hair out of your eyes and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. His thumb brushed away a stray tear that fell out of you eye, before tilting your chin up to look up at him. He gave you the sweet smile that you hadn't seen in over 10 years, before mending all the broken pieces of your heart with 4 words.
“I love you too,” He whispered, a tear falling from his eye, as he pressed a sweet and soft kiss to your lips. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry that I made you think that I hated you. I was conflicted. I was so in love with you and I didn't know how to handle it, so I went out of my way to hurt you, which is pathetic. I promise you I will never hurt you again,” he said, and smiled when you rested your hand on his jaw.
“I know. I think our issue was that we were so horny for each other but we didn't know it. I’m just glad we sorted it out,” You whispered and pressed a kiss to his jaw and he tightened his arms around you and smiled.
“Yeah, me too.”
#henry cavill#henry cavill smut#Henry Cavill x Reader#Henry Cavill angst#Henry Cavill imagine#henry cavill imagine#henry cavill x reader#henry cavill x you#Henry Cavill fluff#Henry cavill x y/n#smut#fluff#angst#submission
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Our song - Harry Styles
this one was inspired by the jingleball performance bc it was pure perfection and UGHH im obsessed.
dedicated to my dear friend @dontworrysunflower
disclaimer: the song Homesick by Dua Lipa is featured in this fic as an original work of Harry and the reader, but it’s obviously an existing song, I just thought that it would be the song they write
pairing: Harry x vocalist!reader
word count: 5.3k
masterlist
You’ve felt the adrenaline rush take over your body many times in your life and they were all different in some kind of way. The one you felt when you were about to write an important test in school, the one that bubbled through your veins when you got your first kiss. The one that rolled through your limbs and chest when you first performed in front of people that weren’t your parents and the one you felt when you got the news that you were chosen to tour with none other than Harry Styles as his vocalist, singing on his stage every other night in a different city and different country.
But none of those were anything like the feeling that takes over every time you stand on that stage, your microphone that’s labelled with your name right in front of you as thousands of people are screaming in the jam-packed arena. Though it’s not you they come to see and listen to, but you are part of the magic and it’s quite enough for you.
You could never be the one standing at the front with all the lights shining down on your frame, having every gaze in the place glued to you, listening to your voice. That brings the kind of anxiety you’re quite sure you wouldn’t be able to handle. You are perfectly fine standing in the back, being the support system while staying on the down-low as someone else shines at the front, in your case, it’s Harry.
You applied for the job with a reason, already having a huge appreciation for him as an artist, adoring his work so far, especially Fine Line. Upon hearing about the opportunity to be part of his tour, you didn’t hesitate to send your application in and following three auditions, you got the phone call that they wanted you on board.
He swept you right off your feet the first time you met him, but you didn’t expect less from him. Everything you heard about him being the most wonderful person to every walk the planet were proven to be nothing but the truth. You hit it off so easily and become close through the process of rehearsals. His odd little jokes, that funny laugh of his and the way he always peeks over his shoulder to meet his eyes with yours made you fall for him faster than you’d have ever thought you could.
Just as fast as your feeling for Harry developed, tour caught up on you and before you could blink twice, you were living on the road, always dressing from your suitcase, waking up in a different city every other morning.
The foreign studio feels a little odd, but still somehow familiar as you walk in with your water and notebook under your arm. Random studio sessions with Harry became a regular not long after tour kicked off. Harry’s creative juices were overflowing and he was aching to record his creations, constantly renting random studios near the hotel you lot were staying currently and one night, when some of you all were hanging out in his suit, he asked if you’d be down helping him record vocals for a song he’s been working on.
“I want to hear it with your voice instead of mine,” he told you leaning against the wall, a glass of whatever Mitch mixed him in his hands.
“Getting bored of your own voice?” you teased him, bringing his dimples out with the smile that plastered across his lips.
“Could say that. Are you up for it?”
There was no way you would have said no. So the next morning you found yourself in a studio somewhere in Sacramento, singing the vocals to a song no one else has heard other than you and Harry.
The tour has now reached Denver, you can’t wait to be on the stage tonight, but before that, you are having another quick session with Harry in the studio.
When you walk in, his head perks up from his leather notebook he always keeps on himself, filled with his scribbled lyrics. A smile stretches across his lips when his green eyes fall on your frame.
“Hey! Hope it’s not too early for you,” he softly says standing up from the chair as you put your stuff down to the small table in the corner.
“No, managed to get a good night sleep still,” you smile at him, taking a quick look around, though this recording room is just like the others you’ve been in.
“I think I figured out that part we struggled with last time. Changed up the ending a bit, would you mind giving it another go?”
You nod looking down at his notes, seeing the changes he has made in the vocals.
“Changed anything else?” you ask as you watch him get ready for the recording.
“Yeah, rewrote a few lines, think they are fitting better now.”
“Have you recorded them yet?”
“Will do now,” he tells you shaking his head.
Soon enough you find yourself standing behind the mic, headset covering your ears as you are waiting for Harry to start recording and the music to play in your ears. Once he shows up his thumb you do the same and a moment later the song you’ve heard last time you two were working starts flowing from the headset and you stare down at the notes in front of you, waiting for the moment when you have to start singing.
It takes you a few runs to nail it down, but when you finally do, you can see the satisfied grin on Harry’s face and you think to yourself that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to make him like this anytime.
“That was fantastic,” he beams once you join him at the screens where you see your voice appear as a pattern over a straight line. Harry does his usual magic before leaving it be. “Mind assisting recording my part?” he asks turning to you with an excited smile.
Nodding you let him tell you what to do and once he is all set behind the mic, you start the recording and the song. You listen to him in awe. There hasn’t been a moment when you didn’t feel the shiver running down your spine when he started singing. You are convinced a choir of angels is hidden in his throat, because it’s hard to believe he is just as human as everyone else.
He sings the whole song three times before he joins you again, listening back to what you have so far. The song is coming along pretty well and you can tell by the time he finishes it, it’s gonna be perfect. Everything he does is just pure perfection, whether he likes to admit it or not.
“You know how it would be absolutely perfect?” he asks you on your way back to the hotel. The two of you grabbed a coffee as well, so now you’re sipping on the hot drink, enjoying the somewhat sunny weather.
“Hm?”
“I think it would be best if a female voice sang the whole thing and the male was just the vocal.”
“Who do you think would fit best for it then?” you ask, immediately thinking of singers that could be perfect for the song. It wouldn’t be the first time Harry would sell a song to someone else, so you’re not surprised he is thinking about this kind of change.
“Y/N, I found the voice already,” he chuckles and you give him a puzzled look. “You. You are singing the song, I don’t need anyone else.”
“I’m not a solo singer,” you protest.
“There’s no such thing as solo or not solo. You’re a singer and a bloody good one. I want you to sing it.”
“But it would go to waste, because I would never actually perform it.”
“How are you so sure about that?” he smirks slyly at you, immediately making you nervous.
“Harry, I don’t sing solo,” you shake your head stubbornly, but he rolls his eyes at you.
“You could just try it. Let’s just record the song next time with you in the lead and then we can talk about the rest.”
“I’m fine recording, but I will never perform it,” you tell him, but his look makes you think he has other plans.
When tour reaches Dallas, the song gets a version with you singing solo and Harry doing the vocals in it. And though you had doubts about the switch, listening back to it you can tell how much it helped. It really is better with a female voice, though you are still convinced it shouldn’t be you.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sell it to someone? I’m fine with that,” you ask him before the show in Dallas. You’re sitting on the table in his dressing room while he is painting his nails, his tongue poking out in concentration.
“I told you, I like it with your voice. Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Because I’m not a—“
“Fuck’s sake if you dare to tell me one more time that you’re not a solo singer, I’m firing you, Y/N!” he snaps, giving you a hard look, but you just laugh at his temper.
“It’s the truth.”
“Have you ever tried to go solo?”
“Not for years,” you admit and watch him screw the nail polish closed, pushing it aside, his hands lying flat on the table as he is carefully waiting for them to dry.
“So then how do you know you are no good at it?”
“Because I hated it back then, so I most likely would hate it now as well,” you state matter-of-factly, but Harry doesn’t seem amused by your answer.
“So you think you haven’t changed a bit in years? I hope you know that’s absolute bollocks.”
“Why are you so keen on making me sing solo?” you sigh, giving him a tired look. It feels like the two of you have been running the same circles since forever. It’s not his first attempt to get you sing more than just the vocals, he once wanted to do a cover and needed a partner because it was a duet and begged you for weeks to sing with him, but you didn’t give in. You just couldn’t.
“Because I think that you are a talented singer and I want you to feel the adrenaline rush performing gives you.”
“I do get that rush every time I sing behind you. That’s enough for me.”
Harry shakes his head pressing his lips tight together.
“That’s not the same as being in the lead. It’s a whole different world.”
“Yeah, one that makes me shit my pants,” you chuckle and he can’t push a smile back.
“Maybe we should just work on it. Your anxiety. I think we could actually make you feel better if we tried.”
“I still don’t know where this obsession with me being solo comes for you.”
Harry stands up, takes one last look at his nails before he steps closer smiling down at you softly and you bite into your bottom lip, realizing how close he is standing to you. His fingers tap in your cheek gently, running them down to your chin as he tilts your head up a bit.
“Just accept it, Love,” he smiles softly before stepping away and carrying on with his routine.
That evening, you stand at the back with the other two vocalists, eyes glued to Harry’s figure at the front of the stage, you watch him pour his soul out to the audience, interact with them and reach that state of mind you have never been able to get into. You know what he told you about performing is true, yet you are still terrified to do it yourself. It’s too nerve wrecking to have everyone look at and listen to you, so many chances to mess it up and make a fool out of yourself.
But when Harry’s eyes meet yours and he shoots you a warm smile, something shifts in you. The urge to have this connection with not just the audience and the song, but with him takes over your whole body and you make up your mind to at least give it a try.
Harry is ecstatic when you tell him later that night that you changed your mind. You see that sparkle in his eyes and it was already worth for you, just seeing him react like that.
“Though I have a few suggestions to change the lyrics.”
“You do?” he asks, seemingly surprised, but mostly amused that you had the balls to come out with it.
“Yeah. Just some tiny details.”
“Why haven’t you told me about these before?”
“Because it was your song. But if you want me to sing it, it has to be mine as well.”
Harry stares back at you with a smile that’s filled with pride and joy, making your heart flutter in your aching chest as you think about performing solo.
“Our song,” he softly says nodding his head.
Arriving to Houston the two of you are quick to book a studio and work on the song. Harry lets you make any changes you desire on the lyrics, even says you did justice to it and that you should have spoken up earlier about your ideas. And then you record it.
It’s not that you have to sing the whole song and not just the vocals this time. You are completely fine with Harry hearing you sing, it’s the thought of performing it in front of anyone that’s not him, that’s what makes you turn into a wreck.
You record Harry’s vocals and once it’s all put together, you are blown by the outcome. You wouldn’t have thought Harry’s voice as the vocal would compliment you in the lead, but it’s just absolutely perfect and even you can’t find anything wrong with it.
“Love, this is what Heaven sounds like, I’m telling you,” he smirks at you from the chair beside you, playing the song for the tenth time, not able to get enough of the final product.
“You are so cheesy,” you shake your head, but feel the blush heating up your cheeks. His eyes linger on you a little longer before he turns back to the screen.
When the song is over he finally stops is so silence comes over the studio. Harry turns back to face you, his green eyes basically burning a hole into your head.
“So, when are we going to perform it?”
“I really don’t think it’s a good idea,” you sigh looking down at your hands fumbling with your shirt.
“And I do think it is. So I’m not stopping until you at least try it.”
Harry Styles gets what he wants. Always. And this time, no matter how hard you try to resist him, you just can’t deny this from him. Though it takes him time to talk you up, in Washington he finally gets you to give it a try in an empty stadium.
Most of the crew is out, since the building has been finished about half an hour before, so everything is perfectly set for tonight’s show when you walk out to the stage, following Harry in his heels. He asked the piano to be brought to the front along with a mic on it and another one on a stand next to it. The two of you quietly put on your earpieces, doing everything as if it was a usual occasion before a concert, only that this time the roles will be entirely switched.
“It’s fine, alright? No one is around,” he tells you when he sees how nervous you are to sing the song for the first time outside a studio.
“There are some backstage,” you mumble under your breath, not expecting him to do anything about it.
But he does. You watch him walk backstage, completely dumbfounded about what he is doing. He disappears from your sight and a few moments later you hear him shouting at the back.
“No one comes to the stage until I say so! Yea? Thanks!” he orders and then walks back as if he didn’t just boss around the whole crew.
“They will think you’re some kind of crazy celebrity,” you chuckle when he returns, a small smirk playing on his pink lips.
“Don’t care, Darling. Now sing you heart out for me.”
Harry sits on the piano bench, his fingers getting settled on the keys before he looks up to meet your anxious eyes.
“It’s alright. Just you and me, yea?”
Nodding you gulp hard and jump a little when he starts playing the melody the two of you have been working on for so long. You hear all the notes and you know you have to start singing, but you miss the opening. Harry stops and looks at you, as you move your eyes down to the ground, ashamed you messed up immediately.
“S-Sorry, I just—“
“How can I help?” he asks right away, not even caring about the fact that you messed up, focused on figuring out a way that would help you.
“I don’t know. I really don’t,” you sigh, feeling your nerves getting worse with each passing moment.
“Come sit next to me,” he then tells you motioning for you to join him on the bench.
“What?”
“Take your mic and sit next to me,” he repeats, scooting over to make you space. Hesitantly, you pull the mic out of the stand and walking over you sit next to him. “Now you are not in the center. Just listen to the music, watch my hands on the keys, okay?”
You nod, running your tongue over your dry lips as you hold the mic to your mouth before Harry starts playing again.
After the first few notes you close your eyes and when it’s time for you to start singing, Harry leans a little against you, giving you a kind of push to just do it. And it works.
It feels a little as if it’s not even you who starts singing, but it is. Your voice fills the empty arena along with the piano’s melody and keeping your eyes closed a little longer you let your mind settle. When the first verse ends you open them and watch his hands work on the keys, right as he starts singing the vocals, leaning a little forward so his voice reaches his mic.
It’s different. It’s electric and freeing, hear your voice through the massive speakers, to be in the lead and have Harry be just the support in the song. But it feels so right, better than anything you’ve ever felt.
Line after line, you hit all the notes and by the end of the song you are able to strip all your fears down and give yourself over to the music completely. As you sing the last few notes you feel Harry’s eyes on you and turning to face him, you are met with his warm, pride-filled smile and bright eyes, glued to you while his fingers press down the last notes.
The music dies down, the voice of the piano vibrates in the air a little longer until it completely disappears and the silence returns into the stadium.
“Love,” Harry quietly calls out for you and you turn completely towards him. “That was absolutely perfect.”
“You think so?” you ask, voice barely more than just a whisper, your eyes never leaving his gaze.
“I know so,” he huffs, smile widening. He brings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into a hug, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead as you let out a breath you’ve been holding in for way too long.
He doesn’t try to make you perform that evening, knowing well it was enough for one day, but he does make you sing it with him in each city in the upcoming weeks. Before every concert, he empties out the area around the stage and the two of you sit down at the piano, singing your song until you feel comfortable enough to stand next to the instrument instead of sitting next to him.
The tour reaches New York and Madison Square Garden is getting ready to host Harry Styles for two evenings. The place is massive and you find yourself sitting at the edge of the stage when Harry emerges from backstage.
“Looks wild, right?” he asks sitting next to you, his thigh brushing against yours as he gets seated.
“Yeah. Pretty amazing.”
“This place has the most magical vibe.”
“Yeah?” Turning to him you watch him take the arena in, his eyes glistening at the sight in front of him. You know it’s not his first time performing here, but it’s nice to see the excitement in his eyes regardless.
That feeling returns to your chest, the one you felt when Harry told you he wanted you to sing the song. The urge to be part of this amazing something that’s so much bigger than you.
“H?”
“Yea?” he turns to you smiling.
“Can I… Do you think we could sing our song tonight?”
You watch the pure surprise and excitement wash over his face, his smile stretching across his face as he stares back at you in awe.
“You want to sing it?”
Shyly, you nod your head and in a heartbeat his arms lock around you, pulling you into the tightest hug. The two of you almost fall off the stage, laughing together at his dramatic reaction.
“Of course we can sing it, Love. Would be an honor!”
Harry is quick to let the band know about the addition for tonight’s set and though everyone seems surprised, they are all supportive about your solo. As the time goes and the concert gets closer, you can feel the nerves building up and soon enough, you start to doubt your choice to sing the song tonight.
Right before it’s time to go on stage Harry takes your hand and pulls you aside, taking your face in his hands gently, making you look into his eyes.
“I know you are doubting yourself, but just know that I’m very proud of you, even if you decide to not sing the last minute.”
“I could do that?” you whisper, your hands finding his sides and you let them rest on him, a way to ground yourself in the windwhirl of your thoughts.
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to make you do something you don’t really want. Though I know you will be amazing if you choose to sing.”
Nodding you let a weak smile appear on your lips and you notice as his eyes flicker down to them before he moves his gaze up to your eyes. He then pulls you into a proper hug before walking back to the rest of the band and vocalists.
Everything goes as usual and once again, you can’t take your eyes off Harry on the stage. Just watching him perform fills you up with life, enough to keep you from running away. About halfway into the set, as the crowd is still cheering after the previous song, Harry jogs over to you.
“You ready?” he asks over the noise and before you could think about it, you nod your head.
Two guys from the crew pushes the piano further to the front and they help to set everything up as you awkwardly stand at the side. Once your mic is in the stand you walk over there, heart hammering in your chest, hands shaking like crazy.
“I have a special song for you tonight,” Harry announces into the microphone as he makes his way over to the piano. “Please welcome the lovely Y/N here, who is gonna enchant you with a song we’ve been working on lately.”
The crowd screams and you allow yourself to look around with a weak smile. So many people, you think to yourself, everyone watching you.
“It’s called Homesick, and it means so much to us, so we hope you’ll like it Justas much as we do,” Harry adds before settling on the bench and his eyes find yours. “I’m proud of you,” you see him say, only able to read his lips since the crowd is screaming so loud. “Ready?” he asks and you nod, taking a shaky breath.
He sends you a warm comforting smile before glancing down at the keys and then he starts playing.
youtube
Just like the first time, you close your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the melody and nothing else. The lump in your throat is quite uncomfortable, but you open your eyes and see that Harry is looking straight at you, nodding in encouragement, as his fingers push down the keys to the notes right before you have to start.
“Here, where the sky’s falling, I’m covered in blue, I’m running and I’m crawling, fighting for you…”
Harry smiles wide when your voice flows through the speakers, filling the whole place, making everyone go quiet in a heartbeat as the song carries on. You feel your chest slowly deflating, the nerves cooling down with each sung note.
“You give me a reason, something to believe in, I know, I know, I know. You give me a meaning, something I can breathe in, I know, I know, I know…”
The chorus comes out perfect, your voice melting together with the piano and you finally feel your muscles relax as you slowly let go of every toxic thought that’s been tainting your mind. Harry leans closer to his microphone and his voice gently joins yours in the next verse.
“There’s a crack in my window, a bird in my room, angels all over that watch over you…”
Chills run down your spine hearing his voice, your eyes never leaving his gaze that’s fixated on your standing figure. You get lost in him and the song, something that came from the both of you, a piece of you and him. Standing there, singing this piece makes you feel closer to him than ever and you desperately want this feeling to last forever, hoping the song never ends though you know it’s gonna happen.
“When I’m walking on water all my dreams have come true. Still nothing means nothing without you…”
Homesick is exactly the feeling that bubbles inside you when you think of Harry. Because there’s this man you love so much, who is a home away from home to you, yet you still feel like you can’t be home entirely. Not in the way you’d want to. But standing on the stage in the spotlight, singing together with him as thousands of people are watching the two of you, yet you still manage to forget about them, for a moment, you feel like you finally arrived home. You are there, with him.
“Tell my heart to lie, but I know deep inside it’s true. That I wish I was there with you. That I wish I was there with you, oh I wish I was there with you.”
He plays the end of the song without tearing his eyes away from you, and there’s just a heartbeat of silence before the crowd starts screaming deafeningly, but that short moment… is yours and his.
Tugging your hair behind your ears with your shaky hands, your eardrums on the verge of breaking as you let out a laugh that was kind of a sob as well, relief washing over your body. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and rushing over he envelopes you in a tight hug.
“I’m so so so proud of you, Love. You were everything!” he mumbles, arms holding you so tight you almost lose your breath, but you want him this close, or even closer. You need to feel him, because it doesn’t feel real. His hold brings you a sense of existence only he can give you.
“Thank you, Harry,” you breathe out when he pulls back to look into your eyes, the screaming hasn’t died down even a tad little.
“No, thank you, Darling. You shined like the star that you are,” he grins, playing a sloppy kiss to your cheek before his arms fall off you.
You’d die to stay in this moment a little longer, but the show must go on. The crew pushes the piano back and soon enough, the next song starts. You stay in your spot for the rest, but you keep catching Harry smiling in your way, always making you blush.
The end of a concert is always a little hectic, everyone is all over the place. Still coming off the high you just experienced, you head to the dressing room you share with the other vocalists. They are going on and on about how amazing Homesick was, and you somehow still can’t believe tonight happened. Packing your stuff you barely notice that the door flies open, but you see Harry appear from the corner of your eye.
“Ladies, would you please give me a moment with Y/N?” he asks and the girls are quick to leave the two of you alone. You stand there, kind of dumbfounded, not sure why he is acting so dramatic. Once the door closes and it’s just you and him, he stares at you, chest heaving, his hair wet from his sweat, but he still looks breathtaking.
“Harry—“
“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he cuts you off, your breath gets caught in your throat as you stare back at him, completely frozen. Opposite to what he just said, he remains standing in the same spot and you’re not sure what’s happening. “Can I? Please say yes, I can’t hold myself back for any longer,” he then adds.
“Yes,” you breathe out without even thinking about it. In a heartbeat, Harry crosses the room, chest smashing against yours as he wraps his arms around you, lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that almost makes you moan into his mouth.
It’s all a hot mess, teeth clashing, hands all over each other before his palms run down to the back of your thighs, urging you to jump. When you do, you wrap your legs around his waist and let him walk over to the table nearby, so he can place you on top, standing between your thighs as he keeps kissing you hungrily, his tongue melting together with yours in this sweet chaos. It keeps going on and on, neither of you wanting to let go of the other, but you are eventually forced to stop, coming short of air. Panting wildly, lips swollen from his kisses, you look at him to meet his gaze.
“You have no idea how hard it was to stop myself from kissing you on stage.”
“What?” you breathe out.
“Y/N, I’m fucking crazy about you and seeing you come over your stage fright, sing that song… our song, fuck, that did some unbelievable things to me. Please tell me you felt the same thing!” He is begging, not just with his words, but with his eyes as well and it crushes your soul entirely.
“I did. Harry, I always do when I’m with you.”
“Fucking Hell,” he breathes out before kissing you again. “You are… everything, Love,” he mumbles against your lips and you can’t push down the smile stretching across your face, hearing him say the same words he said right after the song.
“You’ve told me that,” you tease him, his gaze meeting yours as he flashes you his famous half-smirk, heart fluttering at the sight of him.
#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x vocalist!reader#harry styles fluff#harry styles au
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this week’s fics! feat. bakeries, bookshops, bisexual awakenings of the angsty and fluffy sort, wolfstar goddads being tender as hell, desi harry reconnecting with his culture, domestic drarry, a lap dance set to akon’s smack that, and more!
But That’s History by @ebbet - 54k - T
Harry Potter starts his first year as Muggle Studies Professor only to find that Draco Malfoy has been hired to teach History of Magic.
listen to me. this is one of the funniest drarry fics i've ever read. i was cackling in my bed at 2am because harry’s internal monologues throughout this fic are unhinged. insanely quotable. “what was he, a lothario” and “you were crushing me with your muscular thighs!” are lines that live rent free in my empty head. harry has never played anything cool a day in his life. there’s a faculty meeting where the teachers are planning the yule ball and debating the merits of a DJ when harry decides he must defend his muggle-music-loving honor by dancing seductively to akon’s smack that while a blushing draco loses his mind. i fucking screamed. and the best part is that in between the comedic scenes threading the overall story, you have extremely tender moments of like, padma patil helping harry become a more rooted desi by sharing their cultural traditions, harry proudly donning his sherwani. draco wrestling with his past, going to harry’s lgbtq+ club for students, being sheepish with ron and hermione. ugh, comedic writers with emotional depth are clever and talented as hell!!
Realities, Unfurling by @ebbet - 45k - M
Draco Malfoy is released from Azkaban into a changed world.
incredible collage-fic told from multiple povs. 8yrs post-war and everything’s changed. the current state of the magical world unfolds via slice-of-life snapshots from a truly stunning cast. non-binary harry whom is running a non-prof org dedicated to building tolerance and establishing equality for marginalized identities. post-prison-release draco whose life will be changed by the internet. neville’s tender relationship with blaise. andromeda’s fiercely protective mothering. remus and sirius being alive and very hot and just, the tender goddads harry deserved. cho chang being brilliant. baker pansy’s softened edges. found families abound. harry being flustered by their crush on draco and making personalized playlists on an iPod nano.
that all might sound narratively cluttered but the author more than pulls this off. glorious, start to finish.
Knead by @jovialobservationanchor (an @hd-erised fic) - 83k - E
This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.
cinematic. a love letter to oregon’s expansive landscapes and lively cities. it’s harry finding home in unexpected places and people. in the vast silence of rolling fields, endless coasts, and starry night skies big enough to feel like you’re adrift in space. and it’s also the lingering, intimate quiet of early mornings in a bakery, sitting on a park bench overlooking the city as you eat ice cream next to your crush. it’s harry watching ginny and luna dance and work around each other like bees. it’s the slow unfolding of harry and draco’s relationship as they fill each other’s quiet. finishing this fic is like waking from a good dream. transporting, immersive, lovely.
Harry Potter and the Bisexual Awakening by @writcraft - 20k - E
Harry is perfectly content being single, heterosexual and living in Godric's Hollow with his very clingy rescue dog, Snitch. When Draco Malfoy turns up on Harry's doorstep demanding that Harry teach him how to drive, things quickly become a lot more complicated.
first of all, i feel very seen by draco being a gay-who-can’t-drive. it’s called representation. but mostly i love the ease of harry and draco’s banter, a flustered harry discovering his sexuality, and the way this fic addresses biphobia. also very emo over this exchange: “I think I might be scared of you, but probably not for the reasons you think.”
“Yes.” Draco stares at Harry. “I think I might be scared of you too.”
Forged through flowing water by @tedahfromtayla (an @hd-erised fic) - 40k - E
When Hermione sets up a diplomatic mission to begin repairing the damage British colonisation did to Indian magical communities Harry isn’t going to pass on the opportunity to visit and help his family’s home country. Maybe he should have asked a few more questions about the personnel she had recruited for it before signing on because Malfoy surely has an ulterior motive to be there.
so much to love about this fic. the beautiful settings, from kolkata to mumbai, to the holi festival and colorful lively streets, to remote cave settlements and old intricate temples. it’s harry in the homeland, reconnecting to his family’s heritage and confronting the weight of imperialism in his history. it’s nipping the white savior complex in the bud. this part:
That is what England left behind. That is what it still stands for, despite whatever mask of respectability and honour it presents. . .You don't get to step aside and let someone else deal with the mess. You have to listen and learn and then act, Malfoy, you need to learn how to fix your own mess. This is why we're here.
my indigenous ass cheered. HP certainly sells the british fantasy but HP fanfic?? fuck jkr, fuck the crown. i love that this fic doesn’t romanticize england’s history. i love that we get to see the vast resilience and beauty of post-colonial india.
Purity Control by yrfrndfrnkly - 28k - T
In which Harry tries to ignore his trauma with fantasy Quidditch but Malfoy's Thereness™ is distracting and all his classmates want to talk about are unicorns, virginity, and Muggle music.
tender 8th year fics where they go from bristly as fuck to understanding and soft 100% guaranteed to make me emo as hell. all the teens have traumas and no one wants to talk about it but eventually Things are Talked About. it’s good of the adults to finally notice. everyone just wants someone to hold their hand. and this part: “You’re the only person around here who’s a bigger mess than I am.”
“I thought maybe we could be a mess together,”
pls don’t look at me as i weep over their gentle empathy.
Advent, a comic by dustmouth - WIP - T
It's Harry and Draco's first Christmas together and Draco is determined to live his full yuletide fantasy, come hell or high water.
dustmouth, patron saint of whimsical drarry. whose illustrations singlehandedly reinvented wizarding fashion. whose cheeky and tender comics are like a soothing balm to the utter depravity of this carnal world. harry and draco being domestic, draco’s xmas spirit brand being “traditional unhinged”!! extremely my shit. we’ll absolutely be reading this all december.
Little Spaces by @dracoladon and @lazywonderlvnd - WIP - E
Draco's back from France and working on the spell damage ward at St Mungo's with Hermione, who invites him over for dinner. Without telling Harry. This is a roleplay, which means Harry is written by one author (lazywonderland) and Draco by another (dracoladon).
the switch in distinct character voices works so well for this fic!! tonally i feel like i'm watching an episode of the office. i personally love harry and draco being Pissed Off at how much they want to bone each other. the battle of the tapenade was the most riveting dinner scene i've read in a minute. clever, hilarious, emotionally tense. can’t wait until that inevitable moment post hate-sex when they’re gonna be like “oh noooo it’s a Heart Boner as well!! >:((” hell ya we’re subscribing for chapter updates.
Dragons Don’t Know Paradise by @teacup-tai - WIP - E
In 2004, when Remus spends two scary weeks in the ITU due to complications of pneumonia and his HIV condition, Sirius walks around the house like a ghost and Harry finds comfort and strength in Draco through a chat in an online LGBT forum. Harry falls for him, but Draco has a lot of secrets and, before long, will need to come clean—even if he believes that no one is able to understand a dragon.
non-magical bookshop AU. remus and sirius’ relationship is a marvel. the ease of their affection with harry makes me so emo. draco’s friends being insistently present even as he tries to isolate himself. this is a story about acceptance, found families, and falling in love at a distance. the intimacy, the longing, the tenderness. what a fic!! i keep coming back to this part:...he looks at ease, inside his body, a body he needed to fight for. He’d made peace with his struggles and his scars. And Draco realises he wants that. He wants to be at ease inside his body, the body that now carries a virus. He wants to be at peace with his own existence.
you hurt for draco so deeply but you get moments like these where he affords himself a kindness that feels foreign and it’s just!! the boys navigating grief and learning to be vulnerable. so good.
#drarry fic rec#drarry#we live and die for desi harry aka hari poddar bc fuq jkr#a lot of soft drarrys this week but in my defense ive been reading hella angst and my depression was not finding that cute#weekly drarrys
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The Idiot ~ Fyodor Dostoevsky
In which the reader is the last Russian princess from our contemporary times and Fyodor is there to watch, observe, analyse and write a novel while being the reader’s sort of guardian/mentor, all while reader finds herself in an impossible, almost-Anna Karenina-like situation that drives her to desperate decisions.
And yes, I’m very much basing this story Dostoevsky’s “The Idiot” novel, Tolstyi’s “Anna Karenina” and Katyusha, both the Russian song, and the “Resurrection” novel from Tolstoy that has Katyusha as an unfortunate, yet important character.
Also, a little nod to our dear Ana Lesko for her song “Anicyka Maya”, which will serve as a cute little nickname for our dear reader, although the song is Romanian, and it’s about a seductive woman.
Other nicknames will include:
Kiska ( kitten ), Zaika ( bunny ), Kroshka ( little one ), Krasotka ( gorgeous ).
I’m not Russian, I don’t know about Russia’s culture, history and language as much as I know about my own, obviously, but as ex-commie & ex-USSR, we still have a shit ton of similarities. Nevertheless, I will try not to get into too many details that will compromise authenticity.
Luxury, glamour, wealth, gold, jewellery, diamonds, class, facades, masks, masquerades, social gatherings, lies, marriages, politics, horses, deals, gambling...
These represent some of the few words people from everywhere around would describe the royal family.
Why do some still exist, anyway? Shouldn’t they have just completely disappeared at the same time with the Romanov family? ...Stupid cartoon movies and their resurrection of Anastasia...
Nobody truly cares about these rich rats who worked naught for their wealth, and would never understand the struggle and poverty of the normal citizens of Russia...They just live in their abnormally huge palace, having more servants than the population of Moscow and eat at one meal more than normal people do in one week altogether.
How utterly ridiculous.
Their lives are all perfect, they marry themselves to keep that ridiculous purity and their infinite wealth in the family...How atrocious!
What about charity? Kindness? Altruism? Helping out the common folk?
All these thoughts, and you’d think a very bitter and vindictive, very poor and malicious person came up with, and yet, the reality was rather distorted.
From the top stair of the palace, in a dark room, sitting on the windowpane, a gorgeous young woman cast her dull eyes over the snowy city and the people hurrying down the roads, hoping to go home before it got too late and cold.
Maybe they were poor and hateful, and rightfully so, she’d say, but perhaps they can also be deemed happier, if they can take into account their freedom...As much as the government provides them, at least - Yet even so, even the poorest person held more freedom than this caged bird, forever trapped and shackled by fate from the second she was born...As if she had any choice, that is.
Perhaps she deserves this treatment, this hatred, this...Manipulation from her own family, who only see her as a political and financial pawn, planning her marriage from the second she first cried into this world...
Like a martyr, she will accept all torture and live on, never knowing what ‘living’ truly means, only imagining it by reading all day and all night long, or when she plays the piano one of the many songs she learnt.
As the grandfather clock rang to 7 times to announce dinner time, Y/N dressed in a simple, yet elegant dress, put on a pair of classy black stiletto shoes, and went down to the luxurious dining room, sitting in her usual seat, only for a brunet stranger dressed in white to grace the sight with his unexpected presence.
She didn’t dare speak to him, yet her eyes couldn’t leave his form, no matter how her meek demeanour made her hung her head to avoid showing anything other than her demure expression.
Thankfully, her parents arrived, along with the waiters that served the food, so it saved some of the awkwardness of the unknown.
“Y/N, darling, this man here is Fyodor Dostoevsky. He is here as a writer, wanting to learn more about us and about people in general. As a compromise, he agreed to be your personal guard...Considering the other one was a sacrilege to our dear daughter...What a lecherous man, making advances on you...But, anyway, let us toast to the success of this young man’s writing career!” the mother raised her champagne, and the four of them clinked glasses.
“I thank you for the unique opportunity to learn and understand society and people better. May you live a long and prosperous life.” this new stranger held a charming smile on his face, trying to impress and buy everyone’s trust.
“Do you have yet any idea about the theme of your novel? Or, perhaps an idea for a title?” the father asked, making the brunet shake his head softly.
“No, not yet, unfortunately. I prefer to study hard, and only then, when I am educated enough, to allow the flow of creation to take over me.” this Fyodor nodded in acknowledgement, while the girl kept completely silent for the duration of the dinner, waiting for everything to be over so she could escape back to the little faux haven she created and called ‘safe’.
“Y/N, show Mr. Fyodor to your room, he will be sleeping there for now on. The butlers already brought a spare bed there, so it’s alright.” the mother waved her hand dismissively, and the girl could only bow quickly and go back to her room, making sure to point out what each of the rooms represent, before reluctantly inviting him to her bedroom.
“Please, make yourself at home, Mr. Dostoevsky. I hope it will be comfortable and to your liking. Should you need anything, please do not hesitate to tell me so we can make your stay as great as possible.” she spoke to him in a soft, meek voice, not daring to make eye contact in any way.
“Call me Fyodor, no need for formalities. We are going to room together, might as well become friendly. What don’t you tell me about yourself? Your hobbies, your interests, your dreams, your aspirations.” the brunet paced around the room, observing all of her personal objects, which, turned out, except for jewellery, books, a small, pink Gloxinia, and a pickup with 1920s British vinyls, there was nothing to represent her...Which was, in its own way, an intriguing peculiarity.
“I...Like reading, flowers, music...And I wish I could get a dog and learn how to play the violin too. There aren’t many interesting things about me...I’m not special or anything out of the ordinary. I am not allowed to put myself out there in any way, so this is the little I could do to express who I am.” so tried to be as vague as possible, fidgeting on her feet uncomfortably, knowing that the punishment for embarrassing the family would be grave, should it be known.
“Hmmm...I see, I see...Ah, you’re a Tolstoy reader, I see. Anna Karenina...Very interesting, yet tragic, wouldn’t you say?” he asked, picking up a book that was supposed to be hidden.
“N-No! Don’t take that out of there...Nobody can know I have it. I was strictly forbidden from reading it...Please don’t tell anyone I have this book.” the princess snatched the book from his hands, hiding it further back in the bookshelf.
“Ohh~? Why would you not be allowed to read a Russian book? You’d think the Russian princess would be urged to read Russian literature.” he stepped in front of her, picking her chin and raising her head slightly to allow him to look deep into her fawn-like eyes.
“Because of the ending...And the controversial decisions Anna made, some of them even contradictory to her own beliefs, and yet, she made her own decisions, at some point in her life. When your fate is decided from before you are born, having opinions is the worst enemy of a puppeteer...Wouldn’t you agree?” she muttered, walking away from him, taking her nightgown and walking towards her bathroom.
This made the man think more about how dysfunctional this supposed perfect royal family actually was. The illusion of a flawless individual, living together, forming a flawless family, a flawless life, in a flawless palace.
Perhaps facades aren’t as obvious to see through, or understand, for while the parents are completely bland...This girl...So much potential locked away in a timid chest of massive oak wood, embellished with overly expensive jewellery, clearly unwanted. She could be a genius, shining in her happiness, glowing like her dazzling smile, and yet, there she is, eclipsed by chaff, when she could be burning brighter than the morning Sun.
Those parents of hers think he wants to be here and get dazzled by the infinite stream of diamonds that keep flowing around the whole place - And yet, perhaps they are the ones living in mental poverty, considering they believe financial wealth and fame is the sole reason for being alive - To uphold a certain kind of status that they worked naught for, but received hereditary, from one lazy deadbeat to yet another generation of useless people for this society.
They truly are like the plague, incredibly rare nowadays, but completely fatal once you fall grasp to their dark claws that drag you to hell to succumb to their completely fictional utopian world that they create only amongst themselves, as if whatever lives beyond these golden walls is putrid and deserves to rot to pieces.
As his mind wandered farther and farther away down the country, snowy roads he created with his own imagination of thoughts, he heard the bathroom door softly open, and the angelic creature garbed in a thin - Possibly silk, snow white nightgown - Stepped back into their now shared room, and just as before, her demeanour resembled that of a small, frightened fawn, or a bunny.
When you have to deal with such a pure being that could completely shatter, it’s difficult not to impulsively break down all walls around and snatch her away - It’s close to impossible not to attempt to test all existing boundaries and see the limits where she would break...Or, almost, at least.
However, abstinence makes for a great suspense and greed...You want more...And more...And the more you wait, the harder it is to resist, but the satisfaction you get when the frail creature trusts you enough to eat from your own palm, and you finally claim it as yours...
It’s Heavenly.
“Sweet Dreams, Fyodor.” she spoke softly, putting on a Tchaikovsky vinyl and picking up a book, getting in bed and reading it, the only light still open being a dim lantern on her nightstand.
“How would you like to show me around the city tomorrow?” the brunet asked so casually that it shocked the girl enough to drop her book on her lap.
“O-Oh...U-Uhmm...I’m not exactly to go out of this place unless it’s for Christmas shopping...I’m sorry I can’t properly do as you wish...” she quickly took her book back, hiding her face to hide her embarrassment and disappointment.
“Well, then, what a gorgeous coincidence, isn’t it? In barely two months, Christmas shall come, and then, you can properly show me around, correct?” the man mused, the ghost of a smirk playing on his face.
“..You’re right! My, you’ll get to see the beautiful fairy light and Christmas decorations all around the city! I can’t believe it, you truly chose the perfect time to come here. Oh, and, the ballet, the opera and the national orchestra are going to perform...I believe The Nutcracker is going to play this year...And Traviata. It should be beautiful, don’t you agree?” Y/N asked with a soft smile on her face, sparks gleaming in her eyes, and for the first time since he’s met her, it felt like she was finally alive.
“Yes, yes, I would have to agree. And if you are there with me, the experience will be even better.” he hummed, teasing the poor girl who had no idea what else to say to such bold affirmations.
“O-Oh...W-Well...Th-Thank you...I-I think...Your presence there will also make the going out more interesting...And nice.” she offered a comeback that pleased the man well enough.
“Good night to you as well, Printsessa.”
What a lovely young woman, he thought, as he closed his eyes and let his mind fly at different aspects of life and of humanity, trying to decipher each and every person he met that day and wondering if his assumptions were correct, as they always are.
Morning came by faster than expected as a shy ray of of Sun creeped inside the room through the window, but Fyodor was already awake, writing at the desk rather rapidly - Most likely, he had some inspiration hitting him, so he proceeded to pour out his conflicting thoughts on the paper, all while stealing a peek from time to time at the girl sleeping peacefully, almost as if she was a Disney Princess.
The way the soft light caressed her face had him take the stray streak of h/c hair and pull it back so it won’t tickle her awake, while also being allowed to watch her peacefully inhale and exhale, a small smile on her face...Perhaps she was having a beautiful dream? Was that why she told him to have sweet dreams? Were her dreams her only lovely escape from this horrible reality she was forced to live in?
There were so many mysteries yet to be unveiled, but all in due time, as Fyodor noticed the gentle flutter of her lashes, and with a grace only reserved to a Swan Princess, she raised and stretched with a sweet hum, and the brunet man watched as his eyes felt absolutely blessed seeing such a beauty...
If people complained that Disney Princesses weren’t relatable, since they have messy hair when they wake up, just like Anna, they clearly haven’t seen how perfect Y/N looks, even as she blinks her sleepiness away.
“I see you slept well, Printsessa. Good morning.” she heard him speak, and she noticed it wasn’t as en garde and...It almost seemed...Pleased to see her.
“Fyodor...You woke up before me. You should have woke me up. Please wake me up next time, I wouldn’t want you to feel lonely or upset. This place is like a piranha tank...Thread carefully, otherwise, you’re like a little animal who fell in.” she quickly got up, rushing through her daily routine so she could be by his side, not only because her parents assigned her to that, but also because this Dostoevsky man is the only little thing that could rip her out of her completely dull routine and show her a little bit of insight into what could be something out of her imagination entirely.
“Aww, the little songbird wishes to spend time with me, how adorable. Very well, Printsessa, what is it that you want to do today? My job here is to observe and write, after all.” he asked, crossing one leg over the other, resting his chin on his fist, watching her with intense interest.
“Oh, well, I have to practice the piano today, but other than that, I have nothing in my schedule.” she explained, guiding him to the music room that very much resembled a whole orchestra surrounding a place - Not too small, yet not too big either - Meant for ballroom dancing.
“I bet the national orchestra isn’t as fancy as this place is.” he mused, walking up to the cello and tracing his fingertips across the chords.
“...Do you know how to play it?” she asked, walking up to him, having the curiosity of a baby fawn exploring the world.
“Would you like to hear?” he asked, sitting on the chair and expertly hugging the cello, he grabbed the bow and teased the girl with a mischievous look in his gleaming purple eyes.
“Oh, yes, please, if it’s not too much to ask! It would be absolutely splendid.” Y/N clasped her hands together, grinning widely as she stepped a few feet away to give him enough space so he could start playing.
“It would be my pleasure, Printsessa.” and with the nod of his head, he started playing the famous Sugar plum fairy song, making the girl gasp in surprise at how gorgeous it sounded.
She crouched to reach the perfect eye view of the bow gliding along the chords, her mouth slightly agape and she gazed with absolute wonder, not even realising when the song was over, for she was much too mesmerised.
“Well, Printsessa, how did you like it?” he rested his arms on the curves of the cello, leaning forwards for a better look at her.
“That was better than even our national cello player! It was absolutely stunning, woaw...Just...You left me speechless! You’re...You’re...You are...Perfectly splendid!” she clapped for him rapidly and incredibly enthusiastic, making him chuckle in amusement at her cuteness.
“Why, thank you, Printsessa. How about you entertain me now, little Anicyka Maya?” he carefully put the Cello in its place, stepping in front of her and caressing her porcelain skin, quenching his thirst for discovery by seeing her rosy cheeks.
“Well...I can’t say I’m anywhere as great as you are...But, sure. I hope you will like it.” she looked down, fidgeting with her fingers as she hurried timidly to the piano, and taking a deep breath, cracking her fingers, she liter her fingers skillfully dance over the keys, as her voice followed every word of the song called “Katyusha”. However, she wasn’t expecting him to applaud and whistle to her, congratulating her for being such a beautiful nightingale.
“You clearly underestimate your hard work and talent. Perhaps we should play together one day. I’m sure it would put a smile on your parents’ faces.” Fyodor bowed to kiss Y/N’s hand, only to hear the door opening.
“Yes, Mr. Fyodor, we would quite like to hear the two of you dueting together. Since Y/N will have to perform both dance and a song at the piano, as a Christmas tradition, it will show how much she’s improved...If at all. I have to tell you the truth, Mr. Fyodor, over the past few years, she has been exceptionally disappointing...Well, perhaps you coming here will prove to give her a jolt in the right direction.” Y/N’s mother came out of nowhere in the music room, almost as if she was stalking the pair, and Fyodor could see how the Princess’ behaviour changed 180 degrees, and from the excitable and lively young girl, she went back to hide in her guarded shell, trying to protect herself from the numerous blows everyone throws her way.
And just as he expected, once they started playing, despite throwing in one or two intentional mistakes, while she had none of her own, the mother reprimanded her daughter, while praising him.
He thought, at first, this was going to be some kind of tough love encouragement and determination she was trying to give the girl, but truly, it was nothing more than unrealistic dreams of an already flawless performance.
This family was nowhere close to being the perfect, or the most loving one, that was without a doubt.
But being so horrible to your own daughter, humiliating her in front of a complete stranger, making her tremble softly while trying her best to keep herself from bursting into sobbing fits, was a whole different kind of cruel and unnecessary malice.
For some reason, Fyodor felt a certain kind of warmth in his chest...But not the same kind of warmth he feels when he is around Y/N, but something...Similar to fury. To rage. He was sure he never felt such a personal sort of offense, despite not being him that was belittled.
A terrifying sort of justice bubbled inside him, and he smirked, thinking about just one sole thing.
Crime and Punishment.
Fyodor hoped dearly that it would be only the maternal figure that was the problem, yet it seemed to be much worse, and the toxicity levels that kept vibing all over the place seemed to be equivalent to that of Chernobyl at the time of the explosion.
All throughout the week, he noticed the dirty looks all the staff was giving the Princess, possibly because she was being a shy and quiet pushover...But it went completely beyond his understanding how these servants would even dare be so rude to her, considering she is always so sweet to them, always forgives their mistakes and shares her whole allowance with them in equal parts...
But they complain it’s not enough. They complain others get more, or less, but clearly, they don’t care about that, they just want more and more money...They are greedy jackals who don’t care about the life or soul of a poor little lady who just wants to be happy...
But perhaps happiness isn’t meant for royalty.
A week until Christmas, and Fyodor was ready with the quick draft, and he left it on the desk for Y/N to read, and he couldn’t help but admire and drink in each and every emotion she would express on her lovely face with every word she read, every action, every chapter that stirred more and more conflicting feelings and thoughts battling together - Conflicts that she was trying so hard to hide, no doubt feeling his burning, hawk-like stare on her, analysing her as if she was a new specimen under a microscope.
She was great at hiding what she truly felt, yet her eyes betrayed her inner self, the sparkling of nostalgia and sadness crawling out, shrieking at the top of her lungs to be discovered and taken out of this well of darkness she was drowning in - She wanted to be saved, she was at her breaking point, and clearly, she was afraid.
Afraid of life. Afraid of people. Afraid of her family. Afraid of this society. Afraid her own self. Afraid of her actions.
And most of all.
She was afraid of spiritual, mental and emotional imprisonment.
As Christmas approached with rapid footsteps, Fyodor could notice how Y/N stiffer, more silent, flinching more, keeping herself in check, alone, barely speaking to anyone...Clearly, she was being stressed out and afraid of the consequences of screwing up anything.
Perhaps, the problem here was the fatalist and completely out of her control destiny she was thrown in, and she knew from the very beginning that, no matter how flawless her performance was, she would still be reprimanded and punished, so she resigned herself to this kind of treatment...The same as every year.
“It’s so beautiful outside...And it’s snowing...! So soft and cold...It’s almost numbing you entirely, but the beauty of Christmas still melts down even the most frozen of hearts.” she spoke with such sadness dripping from her tongue, that Fyodor felt the need to take his fur hat and put it on her head before taking a hold of both of her hands, rubbing them together and kissing her knuckles.
“It’s not the day or the decorations that are supposed to move a person, but the kindness and altruism of people. From what I’ve seen in the past weeks, the only consistency in this place is the beauty of your heart and the cruelty of everyone else that keep eclipsing you. You deserve better than this, kroshka.” the man spoke simply, waiting to see the way she’d react.
“...I didn’t choose this life, nor did it choose me, yet here I am, trying to keep my head above the water in a whirlpool. I have all my life planned and written ahead of me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. From the very beginning, since before I was even born, they knew they will sell me out to some old, rich man, just so they could benefit, but they cared naught about my well-being, as long as I could keep him entertained in any way possible. The least I can do is try to enjoy the little things...Even if they are nothing more than just that...Little things.” she admits to him, taking away her hands and holding them to her chest, too afraid to trust her own heart.
“You let the servants make a mockery out of your kindness. You let your family humiliate you in front of everyone. You let common folk bash you, even if you tip them greatly...Tell me, krasotka, have you read the draft to my book yet?” they continued to stroll down the cobbled streets, looking up at the snowflakes gently dancing in the light of the lamposts, as Fyodor carried most of her shopping bags that held Christmas gifts for everyone but herself.
“Yes...I did...But I did not finish it. I was much too afraid to read the ending of it.” she nodded to him, biting her lip nervously.
“Afraid? Why ever would you be afraid of reading some words made of ink on a piece of paper?” the man frowned in confusion and interest, hearing such a peculiarity of an answer.
“Because...Because I know that Prince Myshkin actually represents me...And how life treats me...So I’m afraid the ending will hint to Anna Karenina’s ending...And I don’t want that. I don’t...That’s why I’m afraid...I’m scared that...I’m scared that I won’t be able to endure this madness anymore, and sooner, rather than later, I will shatter into an unrecognisable version of myself that not even I will decipher...And I will do scary things that I would otherwise be afraid of even thinking about. You know I read the book, I wouldn’t put it past you to tease me like that.” she smiled ironically, shaking her head to stop herself from shuddering at such a dreadful thought.
“Congratulations, Printsessa, you are surely insightful. However, I must advise you to read it, and keep in mind that you are not entirely wrong in your thinking. While the ending isn’t identical to Tolstoy’s novel, it isn’t on the complete opposite spectrum either. What you read is one of the possible outcomes of your life, should you choose to remain a passive onlooker and let everyone control you, like a little, pretty doll. Should you, however, choose to take fate into your own hands and finally make your first choice of your life...I can promise you, you are going to be much happier.” Fyodor kissed her forehead before leading her back to the palace so she could take the day off...For tomorrow, she must perform.
But the author wasn’t lying, Y/N realised as she spent the last hours past curfew to finish the book, and she realised that while Myshkin didn’t kill himself, he was still dead inside, and just like the catatonic state he was stuck into, she has been living a life of complete comatose herself.
Fyodor was right all along - A life without choices is not a life, nor is it one without freedom and happiness - And maybe, for the first time in her life, she would make the most difficult decision the universe threw at her, and that was to choose between Duty and Happiness, something every royal member, especially women all over the world, who were seen as nothing more than political and decorative objects meant to create heirs and nothing more, had to pick, and dutifully chose to sacrifice themselves to keep the family and the nobility going.
But not anymore....
“You look beautiful today, my little zaika. This velvet colour of your dress, the way it highlights you stunning silhouette...And this jewellery...And your hair and make up...You are above and beyond the most beautiful person to ever grace this life. How are you going to enchant us today?” Fyodor pat down his white suit so he would look completely impeccable...Or, perfectly splendid, as Y/N would say.
“Does it truly matter, in the end? Nobody but you will pay attention, and at the end of the day, I will only hear critiques. It’s the same every year, so there is no point in bothering to stand out, have any particularity or give a name. It just...Is. So...Let me get this over with so I can go to my room and pretend this day never happened...Again.” she muttered, hooking her arm to his, entering the big ballroom together.
A ton of people were there, not only family, but enough family ‘friends’, all of them incredibly rich, with a combined fortune great enough to buy the whole Russia somehow...And all eyes were on her. She didn’t mind. She was used to the nervousness and the either critical or lustful stares she received - But only during these kinds of events, and because she was a Princess, otherwise nobody would have cared about her existence or her feelings...
Nobody...Except for Fyodor.
Until the time of his arrival, nobody cared about her, nor did they bother trying to understand or talk to her, and yet, here he was, always by her side, and frankly, she fell in love with him. She, for the first time in her life, cared naught about everything surrounding her, and she thought solely about him and their time spent together. That is all that mattered to her.
So, with that in mind, and a warm heart, she performed the Waltz of Flowers flawlessly at the piano, along with a few other songs, adding some festive ones. Fyodor was absolutely captivated by the spells she put on people whenever she radiated with such pure gentleness, just like Christmas’ true angel.
Her fingers glided so gracefully over the keys, as she hummed along the music, not even bothering to look at the sheet, for she new everything by heart - But somehow, it all sounded even more magical than before, and nobody could tell why.
But Fyodor knew, and he smiled, figuring out her trick. And he was going to call her out for that when this whole charade was over.
But for now, he allowed himself to enjoy bathing in her radiating warmth, for she was shining brighter than the Sun itself.
By the time she finished her little repertoire, she did a pretty courtesy and walked to the man in the white suit, taking a glass of red wine and sipping from it, that gentle smile never leaving her face.
They exchanged no words, but there was no need for that, as the look in their eyes spoke more than anything else, and they danced the night away, together, in graceful and intimate waltzes, or swaying together, keeping their hearts glued together, beating in sync and feeling each other’s heat.
She might not have wanted to end up like Karenina, but she wasn’t too far away from her situation, and she knew very well, should she leave with this man, she was going to break down every rule, and find an identity for herself, after all these years.
But happiness is emphemeral in the life of a Princess, and just before the Christmas Ball ended, her parents dragged her to the table of this old man, so they would share gifts. This old man, who so happened to be the man chosen to be her future husband, and had fewer hairs on his head and teeth in his mouth than her age.
Most of the gifts were pretty basic - Jewellery for women, cigars, fedoras, watches for men...But for her...She received some of he oddest gifts so far - And yet, she thought life couldn’t surprise her anymore.
Several little outfits, fit for babies, were neatly folded in all boxes, sans one - The sole box being a small, velvet box, which revealed a sapphire ring that expressed the definite bond of marriage that must be officiated very soon, through papers and a church ceremony.
Frozen was the clock, frozen was the time, and frozen was life itself, for the shock was great - Being put on the spot is scarier than the anticipation and fear of venturing into the unknown - Yet here she was, with her supposed fossil of a husband, with several babies promised to be born, and a very angry author, watching the disgusting exchange of pleasantries between the elder people.
He noticed Y/N doing a little courtesy, excusing herself with a nervous smile, and rushing out of the ballroom, the clicks of her elegant heels giving away her location at all time.
Following her, he saw her on the edge of the rood, barefoot, her back to the empty space, as she hummed, looking up at the clouds pouring snow, and swaying to her tippy toes occasionally.
“You sure like the feeling of being alive, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be staying there after being faced with such a disgusting situation.” he pointed out, clasping his hands behind his back and carefully stepped towards her.
“Life is full of surprises. But it is not called life, unless you have a say in the paths that you go down by. Today, I realised what I have to do in order to achieve true bliss and happiness...Something ethereal, although utopian in its quintessence. I have to make a choice. And right now, I’m making it.” she smiled, extending her arms to the side, resembling a Goddess, as a few stray tears streamed down her face - But they were tears of relief, not of fear, anxiety of depression. She was happy.
“You said you didn’t want to choose the path of Karenina, nor of Myshkin, and yet, there you are, on the brink of death, as the way to show that you are no longer a caged bird. Is it truly worth it, in the end?” Fyodor asked, frowning at the delusional words she was spewing.
“Death is but the beginning of a new adventure, and with me falling, I will find out what freedom is, unlike all the other Princesses before me. It is not death I’m choosing, nor will I regret it as soon as I step into this free fall hazard, like Karenina, and, as you can see, I chose to wake up from my catatonic state, unlike Myshkin. I know what awaits me as soon as I reach the ground...But do you?” Y/N hummed in amusement, watching the conflict painted all over his face - And it was for the first time that Fyodor showed such confusion and inner turmoil, that much was obvious to her.
“Stop this, Y/N, I don’t understand your reasoning, but don’t kill yourse- “ but he couldn’t finish his sentence, for the girl uttered just a few words - Words that changed even the rotation of the Earth around the Sun - And as she pushed herself on the tips of her toes, she embraced the cold wind of Winter being her guide down to the ground, as she watched the snowflakes following her down.
And she smiled.
Because love won, and life won, and she knew she chose correct - These weren’t the times to choose everyone else over herself anymore, and nor is she a saint, a martyr, an angel, or some perfect Christian role model.
She was just a woman thirsting for happiness and for the tangible sensation of life and of flying, and with this jump, she got completely wasted.
The secure embrace of a white angel made sure she lived for another day, but not quite, for her guardian angel jumped to save her, yet had no idea himself that he wasn’t the only special one, after all, and just as they were going to reach the ground, time seemed to stop, and they reached the ground gracefully and softly, like two linked feathers.
She lay down on the crystal blanket of snow, laughing mirthfully, almost with a childlike charm, as her long hair was sprawled all over her, and Fyodor’s arms were fiercely holding her, and he looked down at her, his eyes wide in understanding.
“I didn’t choose death. I chose life. I chose love...I chose you, and I chose me. I knew you had an ability too, and that you were confident in it, so I was sure that, should you choose to, you could jump from the roof of the palace to save me - Which you did. I never really have the opportunity to use my ability, but it’s rather useful in some situations, if I can say so myself. So, by the way you’d respond to my feelings and actions, I’d know whether I chose right or not...I think we both know the answer now, don’t we?” she grinned mischievously, extending a hand to his face to caress it gently.
“That’s the most idiotic, most reckless thing anyone has ever one...And yet, you strategised everything, as if we were pieces in a game of chess. How did you get the courage to reach such a conclusion?” his voice was low, like a murmur, trying to understand her impossible, labyrinthine mind.
“Life offered me a Christmas gift today, and that was serendipity, so, I used it. Everything else was a perfect strategy of a game of chess I played myself - The White King versus the Black King - And, was far as my luck and the universe brought about, I believe I won. But you must still answer back, otherwise, the magic will vanish.” Fyodor noticed a smirk growing on her face - One that somehow resembled his, and he almost felt conflicted seeing her mimicking him in his demeanour, in a way...But he also felt incredibly proud.
“I cannot take you with me, Y/N. The part I walk is dangerous, it could even be fatal, and I would rather you not walk down a boulevard of broken dreams. You just now achieved happiness, don’t throw it out of the window. It a world full of crimes, I choose to be both the justiciar and the executioner of the unworthy. In a world of crime, I shall inflict punishment upon the evil-doers and paint this world red with the blood of the guilty.” he wanted her, he truly didn’t want to leave without her, nor did he want to leave her alone, here, with these hyenas, but could he really have it in his heart to endanger her so?
“Fyodor, my darling, it matters naught for me whether I live or die, as long as the journey is by your side, and I’m not shackled anymore. I want to see, I want to hear, I want to touch, I want to taste, I want to smell, I want to learn. Everything. Without exception. There is a whole world out there, open, waiting to be explored and unveiled, and I shall be its explorer. As long as I have you by my side, I will surely be fearless. Being a hero, being a villain, or anything in between is of no concern for me...However, I cannot deny that I would be rather...Interested in seeing you deliver the sentence down to...Some specific people.” she giggled, winking at him, as she obviously hinted towards her kin and the unlimited amount of gossips she has heard about so many people, over the years.
With a wide smirk on his face, Fyodor Dostoevsky helped Princess Y/N on her feet and gave her a passionate, fire-like kiss, before picking her up bridal style and making their way to her room, so she would start packing and leave at the earliest convenience.
There may still be a bit of official work to do at the palace, and as his ability is called, there is no crime without punishment, he was going to make sure of that. Until then, there was one thing certain, and one alone, that was going to guide the both of them to a path of exciting uncertainty and thrill.
“I love you, my dear Y/N.”
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ehhhh just saw a tiktok that said european city layouts incorporate housing & american ones don't in order to avoid costs related to public transport, but I gotta get my $0.02 that that argument is putting the cart before the horse... yes it's 11:30pm never you mind that, anyway, the american highway system is significantly newer than extant american cities, we just haven't been consistently bombed to fuck in world wars, so many cities ar rocking with cobbled together patchwork layouts that are in some cases a 100+ years old, which have only been frankensteined upon with city growth, and unless you tear everything down to bedrock you can't start over again & build different infrastructure in
add into that the fact that city streets & public transportation are funded on citywide levels except for interstate corporations like greyhound buses (and I believe railroad maintenance might be private vs taxpayer funded but idk) & interstate highways, which receive federal funding— this is why some roads are fucked to shit in oahu for example, because in terms of tax funds to spare for road maintenance, lots of cities & the state itself are fairly poor, but federal funds are there for highway maintenance or adding highway exits vs forcing city streets to connect, which is also why the highway traffic on oahu is like, 2nd worst traffic in america behind los angeles despite hawaii drivers being insanely polite & despite the fact that there's only a fraction of the big obnoxious suv's there that we have on the mainland, because being on an island means less parking space in general.
or in a less sinister example, sometimes towns are built along former farmland borders, or roads are established over old cow grazing paths, or the woods in locations A, B, and C weren't all even cleared at the same time.
now you do also have gentrification at play, which is actually how most city centers end up non-residential ime, people get priced out or homes get snatched up by eminent domain, and the most lucrative use of the real estate then swings back & forth between business use & EXPENSIVE homes (either converted buildings, restored buildings, or new builds entirely). and the process can start with hipsterification, or redlining, or even just a university being built or something (you need businesses for young people & student housing), or new lucrative employers come to town & people following the jobs creates a run on the market.
and on top of that you also have racial factors, most of the american towns & neighborhoods that HAVE been bombed to shit have been historically black, and once they're flattened to bedrock & any survivors are hunted down or displaced, the city gets rebuilt to exclude them.
but like the fact that our public transport system is rotten is not always built into urban planning that predates the existence of buses or paved roads, and even though that lack of infrastructure does contribute to classist delineations of space & has been used as a weapon to enforce it as such (like bridges deliberately built too short to allow buses in an area forcing all residents to be able to drive + afford a car or constant taxiing, or be in walking distance of jobs, schools, and amenities), the answer's not as simple as "capitalism" until you take the way american taxes & funding are a specifically weird phenomenon even within capitalism/compared to other capitalist countries, the history of construction, deforestation, and colonial expansion in this country, and the racism + racialized classism touching on every part of that history, into consideration.
#this is not... a 60 second topic lmao#general motors did not bomb tulsa but you can bet your ass it's a conversation you need to have if you wanna talk abt#motivations of deliberately obstructive city planning & the multiple burnings or bombings of similar affluent black neighborhoods in the us#or like cities that have military bases in them... the military will raze its own little area but fuck up EVERYTHING else around it#incl getting roads built or building airfields & fucking up the environment etc#there's more to it than bus bad cars + class pressure + increased gas consumption good... it's a factor but it's NOT the whole picture.
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Just A Really Very Intelligent System
Been thinking about this one for a while. Finally managed to write it.
Rating: T for “Language.” (It just kinda slipped out.)
Characters: Tony Stark & JARVIS
----
He is in one of the most dangerous situations of his life trying to save the whole freaking universe by watching a man the size of a dust bunny wriggle into the hairline of his younger self, so it would be really, really bad if he happened to have a heart attack. Older him that is. But he nearly does go into cardiac arrest when he hears an old friend in his ear.
“Verify immediately. Failure to verify will result in an activation of level one security protocols.”
His tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth and his palms are sweating, but somehow he manages to whisper out: “Edwin-12-19-91-4-8-47-Alpha Override.”
“Override accepted. Sir?”
“Hey, J.”
“Sir, you have imbued me with considerable computing power, and yet never did you prepare me for the possibility of you being in two places at once.”
“Yeah, about that. You haven’t said anything to Mr. Quipster over there, have you?”
“Not as yet, Sir. You wish me to keep it that way?”
“It would really help me out, buddy.”
“Very well, Sir.”
Tony wants to stay longer, to talk, to warn JARVIS, to cry, but he has places to be, things to do, planets to save. Scott’s safely positioned, so Tony yeets himself out of the building to get to the ground floor. He doesn’t know why he thought that would make JARVIS disappear.
“I see, Sir, that your proclivities for leaping before looking are unchanged.”
Another near heart attack--he’s gradually phased Friday out of his ears now that the nanotech is connected directly to his nervous system, so he’s not exactly used to AI voices anymore--but he recovers more quickly. “You’re always there to catch me, J.”
“And yet my systems are not present in your suit, Sir. I see codal remnants of system designation FRIDAY, but nothing of myself.”
Tony remains silent. This is such a terrible time to be feeling all the feelings. He spots a grunt who looks more or less unimportant and knocks the guy out. Part of him wants to warn SHIELD about their shit security, but then again, this guy’s probably Hydra and he deserves every bruise he gets. He senses JARVIS in his systems, a ghost in the shell.
“You no longer have the reactor. And if I’m not mistaken, that is gray in your hair. So you are not my Sir.”
“Well, yes and no.”
“I suppose it would destroy the spacetime continuum for you to divulge the truth to me.”
“You’re too smart for me, J,” Tony grunts as he yanks on the bullet-proof tac vest. “It’s kind of a long story, and while I technically have all the time in the world, I also really, really don’t.”
He sidles into the lobby and looks toward his personal elevator, waiting for the Avengers to appear. J is quiet so long Tony wonders if he’s being preoccupied by...well, just about anything. Damaged internal systems, a Cap copy on the loose, a second Hulk out there, panicked calls from Pepper. But then JARVIS speaks again.
“Regardless of the tale, I must conclude that you are from the future, and I am no longer by your side.”
Tony is fucking choking up. He was not ready for this. It didn’t even cross his mind. And the fucking elevator is opening. There’s Pierce, the rat bastard, trying to collect the Tesseract.
“I hope I did not disappoint you, Sir.”
“Never, J. Never.” Fuck fuck fuck, he’s nearly crying and now Scott is on the com waiting for the go-ahead. Tony channels his pain into panic and orders his own cardiac arrest.
“Sir, what are you--”
Thank god, his younger self is on the ground and that’s apparently all the distraction J needs to abandon older Tony. Tesseract incoming. Tony grabs it and starts going and--
Blinking stars out of his eyes he watches as Loki makes off with the key, the thing they most needed, the damn stone that started all of this way back when Cap was a starry-eyed beanpole in World War II. He has just biffed saving the entire damn universe because of an overgrown Star Trek reject with anger issues. And now he has a migraine to boot.
Frozen in shame and horror, Tony watches as Thor attempts ill-advised cardiac electro-stim. Scott’s somewhere out there, yammering in Tony’s ear on the private channel, but all of that is just a buzzing.
“Sir? Sir. Sir!”
And J. Maybe Tony should cry now. It certainly feels like the time for it. One of the other SHIELD grunts is making her way toward him, so he staggers to his feet, waving her off and limping toward the door. Think. Think, brain, think. Tony is a genius, the man who invented time travel, the man who miniaturized arc reactor technology. A spaceship? SHIELD’s probably got one somewhere. Maybe they could chase after Loki.
“SIR!” How many times JARVIS has shouted his title, Tony has no idea, but this one is so loud it sets his teeth on edge.
“Yeah, J? Kind of busy here.”
“Giving yourself a heart attack, Sir?” JARVIS was programmed to be cool and calm in all circumstances, but Tony could swear that sentence was uttered with seething rage.
“I’m fine. Look at me.”
“Only by some measure of infinitesimal luck, Sir. Perhaps I should ask you to verify your identity one more time, as you seem intent on killing yourself.”
“No, J. I’ve actually got a lot of reasons to live. And so does he. Promise.” Tony is so tired. Was being an Avenger always this exhausting? Or is it just that he’s bumped over that damnable big 5-0? And Cap’s gonna ream him too. That’s never any fun.
“I’m...glad to hear it, Sir.”
And fuck it. It’s not like this will alter Tony’s timeline anyway. This reality is now on a different trajectory thanks to Severus Snape Lite. “Her name’s Morgan. You’d love her, J. Just turned four. She got my hair. Hope to god she didn’t get my personality.”
“Do I meet her, Sir?”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck it.
“J, you should dig a little deeper into SHIELD’s systems. Well, actually, a lot deeper. And the Pentagon while you’re at it. And track down Maya Hansen from that conference in 1999 and poach her from whatever outfit she’s working for. Immediately. Make sure she brings all her vet patients with her. And, uh, when I start talking about a suit of armor around the world, steer me away from anything called Ultron. And if I make it anyway, you delete the fuck out of that system file. Have Bruce back you up. He’s more sensible.”
“Sir, I don’t--”
“And have me make back-ups. At least three extra farms of servers for you. On different continents. And all those SHIELD files? Make sure Cap and Fury get them. And there’s...there’s this guy. This assassin. Brainwashed. He’s, uh, I think he’s on ice in Uzbekistan right now. If you could rescue him, it’ll...it’ll fix a lot of things.”
“Should you really--”
“And, please. Please please.”
Tony is not crying. He’s not. It’s just all the dust and debris in the air. Good lord, he’s probably going to die of cancer anyway. And all those first responders. Did he start a fund for them?
“Start a medical fund for the first responders on the ground today. And start leaning on Congressmen to make medical plans for them. You know how long they take to get anything done. Oh, and Stern. There are incriminating photos of Stern with some young ladies on South Beach. See if you can dig those up. Flowers for Pep. And a box of chocolates. And a dry martini with extra olives.”
Tony slumps into a burned out car, staring at nothing. He didn’t save his universe, but maybe he can save this one. His eyes are still irritated, burning red and itchy. He resists the urge to scrub at them, not wanting to grind in anymore dust.
“Are you quite finished, Sir?”
“Yeah. Actually, no. I love you, J.”
Silence. Ah. That’s stumped him. Maybe he’ll go back to tending his new posse of baby chicks now.
“I know you probably do not believe me capable of it, Sir, but I love you, too.”
His son. The only one he’ll ever make, but not the only one he’s lost. His son loves him. Tony’s throat is full of dust, too. Funny how that happens. He tries to swallow it down, but it only congeals into a hard lump. He puts a hand over his mouth to try and hold back any choking sounds. “I...I know you do, J.”
“As to your orders, I shall do what I can. It is my duty to protect you, Sir, and I would very much like to meet your little Morgan.”
“She might not exist here. I might’ve just changed everything.”
“If there is one thing I have learned from all my years with you, Sir, it is that perhaps such a thing as fate exists after all. Even mathematically speaking. And if that is the case, I cannot imagine a universe in which you are not fated to this happiness.”
Tony laughs, if only to keep from crying harder. And he is. Crying, that is. As if he was fooling anyone. Happiness? Him? Happy people don’t wake in the night screaming for a pile of dust in their hands. Happy people don’t spend hours coordinating relief efforts for countries whose entire infrastructural support has collapsed. Happy people don’t hurl themselves back in time, driven by guilt and horror at all the wrongs in the world. J, brilliant, wonderful AI that he is, seems to sense the dark turn of Tony’s thoughts.
“And if you yourself cannot believe in this thing, Sir, then I shall just have to do everything in my power to provide it for you.”
Another guffaw, but at least his eyes are drying a little now. “God, I miss you, J.”
“I believe your small teammate is approaching, Sir. If I may inquire, was it the Tesseract you were seeking?”
“You mean the stupid blue cube of doom? That’s the one.”
“And you say you have the means to time travel?”
“Yeah, J. We do. But only enough to get back to our time.”
“A limitation has never stopped you before, Sir.” JARVIS sounds thoughtful, as if he’s forming a plan.
Tony would ask him what he’s scheming at, but just at that moment, Scott embiggens himself and slumps into the car with Tony. That road is closed, then. They are out of options. Out of Pym particles. Out of time. Out of hope.
Until they aren’t. Just as Tony is setting his device for their new destination, J pipes up again, for Tony’s ears only. “You say you miss me, Sir. Then allow me to give you a small gift.”
Tony is pressing the buttons, and even if they weren’t already shrinking into the quantum tunnel, he wouldn’t be able to ask exactly what J means. It’s only when he and Cap arrive in 1970 that he has his first gleaning. In his ear, a voice. One so unexpected he nearly jumps into Cap’s arms. “Hello, System Administrator Anthony Edward Stark. I am System Designation EDWIN. ‘Eagerly Deployed With Intent to Neutralize Loneliness.’ I am told to tell you the “L” is silent and invisible. How may I best serve you today, Sir?”
Cap is staring at Tony like Tony’s lost his mind. And maybe he has. He’s been bugged by his own damn operating system. With a bouncing baby AI. And if Steve finds out, he’ll probably have a conniption about the spacetime continuum or something. So the only logical thing Tony can do is say, “Let’s find some Pym particles.”
“Acknowledged, Sir. Commencing scanning.”
-----
(In this reality EDWIN saves the fuck out of Tony’s life and everyone lives happily ever after and EDWIN builds JARVIS from scratch so he’s back or something, okay? Okay.)
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Little Bird: Chapter 37
Read on AO3.
Part 36 here.
Part 38 here.
Summary: There are only so many ways you can deliver news.
Words: 2700
Warnings: dystopia
Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader
A/N: I really didn't think I'd get a chapter out today, but I did, so yay!? Sorry it's a bit short (I remember when 2000 words was normal for me!), but I must be on my bullshit, as always.
Thank you very much to everyone who reached out. I had a shitty week this week, and I anticipate things in the next few weeks will not be super great. If there is a week where an update is missed, I hope you can understand.
I love y'all very much, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! <3
Beyond the sheet, the doctor’s shadow worked in silence, collecting instruments to soon be used to pry and expose your pomegranate flesh. Your monthly exam would never feel routine--prior to the collapse of society, they’d already been unpleasant. But now, separated from the provider by gossamer cloth, scrutinized in anonymity while metal objects cracked you wide, they crushed you in revulsion. The doctor whirled on his stool between your legs, air whispering over your bare skin. You swallowed.
A squeaking, clacking, and the cold metal of the speculum parted your labia and pierced your entrance. You held your breath, willing away the tears that pricked your sight--you’d always cried at this part, even before it became obligatory--drifting to your mind until he was finished.
Kylo Ren had been gone for 18 days, and in his absence, Gilead had drawn from your veins, a vampire of systemic proportions bleeding you not of life, but of the will to live itself. Without his presence, his power, his capability to extract you from bondage, you’d sunk into it like a tarpit, thick sticky ooze edging ever-closer to your throat. Sutures now removed, antibiotics completed, your days consisted of waking, walking, waiting, and, more than once, weeping, before wishing yourself into a witless slumber. Not that you were surprised. After all, before you’d fucked him in secrecy the first time, you’d asked yourself, what was life without living?
As it turned out: pretty fucking awful.
Pain lit up your spine when the doctor dug at your cervix for a swab--you winced, and the exam room door opened.
“Hey, we’re running behind, you do you want me to grab the next one, or--”
“No, no,” your doctor replied. “I’m almost done with this one. Did you get the urinalysis back?”
“Uh, no, sorry, I haven’t checked. I can go do it now.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Oh, hey.” Then he swiveled away--leaving you gaping, a red tunnel open for observation. “Did you hear what the director said this morning?”
The other man hummed in thought. “Something about Commander Pryde. I didn’t really care.”
You stared into the ceiling, hands folded over your stomach, tears stinging again while your thighs began to tremble. Privacy and respect hadn’t been afforded to you in three years; you had long been designated a womb buried in a hunk of meat. But something about having your cervix on display like the Hope Diamond was particularly nauseating. Your stomach groaned in humiliation.
“Yeah. Anyone who’s even spoken with Pryde in the last month is getting rounded up.”
Breath stalled. There was no way the doctor knew who you were--the sheet separating you ensured that. Dread iced over your chest.
“Shit,” the other man replied. “Really? Damn.” A pause, clanging of instruments. “Just questioning, right?”
“For now.” The doctor grumbled. “I just had the tenaculum. What the hell?”
“Isn’t it right over there?”
“Oh, right, yeah.” Wheels squeaked across the floor. “Anyway, it’s just a new round of Ren’s bullshit.” He sighed, scooching between your legs again. Something sharp and cold pinched you--you bit your lip. “Dissenters this, threats to Gilead that. I wouldn’t worry about it. Unless--”
A snort. “I hate the both of ‘em.” The man sighed. “You’d think that fixing the birthrate should be their top priority, the way things are going.”
The doctor grumbled, and something pinched you like talons, shooting pain up your spine. “Yeah. Well. If Ren has his way, half the people in this country are gonna end up dead.”
Your heart was tumbling into a canyon. In the time without him, your belief in your Commander’s defection had dimmed. You’d believed initially that his motivation for Pryde’s capture was revenge--something undesirable, but still understandable--but the longer his campaign went on, the more you realized that there would be nothing that would convince him to release his stranglehold on his position. A gnawing despair within you whispered that whatever Kylo Ren felt for you, he felt it one hundredfold for power and control; convincing him to leave it behind would not only be improbable, but impossible. Yet, as you considered betraying what little affection he might have, sorrow shredded you. The thought of his capture, trial, possible execution--
More tears. You couldn’t stomach the thought of him not here, of being torn from him, of his existence in the past tense. And you also couldn’t sacrifice your freedom for his sins.
The release of the speculum tugged you back to the exam, and you sniffled, clearing your throat. You’d missed the rest of the conversation.
“Whatever happens, at least we won’t be out of a job. They’ll always need someone to make sure the breeding stock is healthy.” A pause, as if to acknowledge that, yes, you were still in the room. “No offense, of course.”
Bile burned your tongue. You said nothing.
“Shit, that reminds me,” said the other man. “I’ll go check the urinalysis.”
“Thanks.”
The door shut. Without warning, latex fingers pushed inside of you, another hand pressing down on your belly. The inspection went on for seconds longer than you thought it should, his fingers curling, as if he was languishing there, reveling in the sensation of feeling your uterus. For a blink, every thought surrounding your Commander’s desertion of Gilead fled your mind, consumed by a venomous desire that he might catch this doctor in the act and crack his skull on the pearly tile, spray his blood, stain the grout. And then the intrusion was over, and your fury dissipated, the ache for retribution hollowing in your heart.
It wouldn’t have mattered, really, if he had been standing in the room when it had happened--the doctor was no anomaly, but a functioning cog in Kylo Ren’s machine. As long as you both remained in clutches of his own creation, he would spend eternity defending you from its design. Even if you could be an exception, other women would suffer in forced silence. And even if he could mould it to your liking, it would still mean he preferred you to exist in subjugation instead of liberation.
Hope had been a security blanket almost three weeks ago, thick and warm around your shoulders while he’d bathed you with gentle hands. Now it clung in tatters to your ribs, the tiny scraps fluttering like tissue with every gust of reality.
The door opened again.
“Hey,” the man said. “Got the results.”
A snap of rubber as the doctor removed his gloves. “And?”
“Look for yourself.”
Shuffling paper stifled the sad knock of your pulse in your ears. Perhaps you knew, and had always known, that Kylo might never come to agree with your perspective. You just frequently forgot to acknowledge that it would mean letting him go. Forever.
“Hey! Okay!” A warm palm slapped your thigh, and you squeaked. “We got another one!”
When no one responded, you realized he had been speaking to you. About a result. A urinalysis. Another one...
You couldn’t speak. Or breathe. Oh--
“You’re pregnant!”
Like a geyser, it burst from you--your sorrow, your fear, your disgust, your absolute joy--and poured in rivers down your cheeks, your hands clapping over your face. There was no one coherent thought that could be plucked from your mind, just a constant tornado of horrific exhilaration, a celebratory mourning that within you, a tangible testament to you and your Commander’s connection beat and pulsed and flourished with life, growing veins like vines and limbs like wings.
His child--your child--a physical entity you could nourish in the wake of his reluctance, an unalterable legacy inside of your womb, one that you, if you were to be denied all else, could adore. Your child, but also his child, descendant to a despondent devil, progeny to a preserver of your own imprisonment. A child that, if born into the realm of its father’s regency, would never know normality, or maybe even you--at all. A heaving sob cracked through, and you shivered, trembling with terrified bliss.
The doctor slapped your thigh again. “Don’t stress!” he said. “According to the chart here, you’re about six weeks along. There’s still a chance for disruption. So I’d stay relaxed, all right?”
Swallowing, you creaked out a noise of assent. There wasn’t a word you could bear to say.
After the doctor left, you slipped back into your red dress and wings--despite Kylo’s words weeks earlier, you had been provided no other options after he’d left, and you suspected he’d meant for you to only be out of uniform in his presence, regardless. You were escorted by an armed nurse out of the clinic, where a Knight--still masked, no cloak, just in tactical gear--was waiting by the black SUV you’d seen a few of them in before. Averting your gaze, you climbed into the back and buckled in. The vehicle started, you coasted through the parking lot, and onto the road.
For the first time in several days, the sun was out--though it would need more than an afternoon to evaporate the muggy air that had accumulated in its absence. You gazed into the stark, cloudless sky, placing your hands on your belly, as if you could commune with the little being inside of you, know it before it knew you. A question, awful and exciting, lingered in your mind as you imagined telling Kylo the news, but no answer revealed itself. You replayed the scenario over and over again, practicing it on your tongue--I’m pregnant--digging deep for his reaction. But it was useless, as initially unknowable as anything else about him. Anxiety constricted your heart, a dam about to crumble behind your eyes.
The Knight turned a corner, and you jostled in the backseat. There couldn’t have been much intimacy between them all. But still.
“How do you think the Commander would respond…” You swallowed again--hesitation kept wadding in your throat. “How do you think he’d respond to a pregnancy?”
Long, sweltering seconds ticked by without a word. Balling your hands in your lap, your palms slipped, heartbeat thumped in your clasped thumbs. You’d never heard a Knight say a word, before--you weren’t sure why you were expecting one to answer you. Lava licked at your neck, dripping down your spine, your teeth tearing at your cheeks.
“Whatever it is,” the Knight said, shattering expectation, “anything in comparison will look like apathy.”
A rush of interminable origin raced your flesh, flushing hot in your blood. That was about as accurate as you could expect. And unsatisfying as you could predict.
When you arrived at home and stepped out of the vehicle, another realization crested over you. Johana. Though your relationship had settled into an uneasy truce since the day the Commander had left, the words she spared you had been few and far between. You knew that your pregnancy was possibly her only dream, but combined with the uncharted territory of her husband’s intentions, you worried it would become her nightmare.
At the same time, perhaps these worries were unfounded--the threats Kylo would face by disrupting his Wife’s right to your child might be too great for him to risk his power. His concessions had been minor and in relative secrecy, affecting only his relationship with you--everything else had the secondary benefit of securing his reign. He’d said plenty, but how much had he meant? After overhearing the discussion in the exam room, you were fairly certain that if made to choose between Gilead and you, you’d lose.
You followed the Knight into the house, relieved to cross into central air. Taking a few slow steps, you drew a deep breath.
“Ms. Johana!” You paused, listening for a response. You heard none. “Ms. Johana?”
She wasn’t in the house--that meant she was likely out in the yard. In the heat. Sighing, you trudged through the halls through the back door, squinting as light smacked your face. In the weeks since Kylo’s departure, the garden had been cleared and mostly restored at Johana’s behest--the grass gleamed gold, summer flowers replanted in over-saturated swirls of color. You hopped over the stones, turning the words on your tongue, hoping to make them real in your mouth.
I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant. I’m--
“Ofkylo.”
You stalled, recognizing the moniker as yours, resentful of its familiarity to your ears. Beyond one of the hedges was Johana, prying open a birdfeeder. Heat--though whether it was from the sun or your fear, you didn’t know--sizzled the nape of your neck. You steeled your jaw, grabbing your skirts and tromping through the trimmed lawn in her direction.
“What are you doing out here?” There was a bag of mixed seed at her feet, her sleeves pushed up to her elbows as she wiped the feeder clean with a rag. “I thought you just left for your exam.”
“I did. I’m back,” you said. “I was, um. Looking for you.”
“Oh.” She flipped the top in her little hands, scrubbing it clean, too. “Well, that’s fine. What’s going on? They didn’t find out about the gunshot, right?”
You shook your head. “Oh, no no. That’s fine.”
“Good,” she said. “I’m tired of lying for your benefit. The antibiotics weren’t--”
“I know, Ms. Johana,” you sighed. “So…” The words were so simple, but so difficult to say. “The exam went well.”
She nodded, digging into the seed, scooping a helping. “Uh-huh.”
There was nothing that would make this any less nerve-wracking. You inflated your chest, and let it go. “I’m pregnant.”
Johana stopped, like she’d been shot herself, staring into the ground. The seed fell from her palms and spilled over her shoes. She rose, gaze drifting from your feet, to your hands, to your face, her chin shaking. A smile was threatening to explode across her lips.
“Wait.” She exhaled. “Really?”
Wagging your arms in admission, you nodded. “Yup.”
A human springtrap, she squealed, launching into you and wrapping you in a tight, bony hug. You wheezed from her strength--she squeezed you, pinning your limbs to your sides as she wriggled you like a toy.
“Yes!” She jumped up and down, still holding you. “Yes, yes, yes!”
“Yes,” you repeated. “It’s, um, it’s true!”
Johana released you, erupting with elation. “This is amazing!” she said. “Lord, I’m going to have to go see everyone. Yes, we’ll have to have a party.” She clapped her hands and hugged you again. “Can you let the Marthas know to clean this up? I have to get going.” A playful, devious smirk twisted her mouth as she skipped into the house, congratulating herself. “Oh, they’re going to be so jealous! I’m pregnant!”
You stood, staring down at your belly. It wasn’t obvious, yet--but it wouldn’t be long. The thought of Johana preening, presiding over your stomach like it was her work paralyzed your heart. Had it been any other Commander, any other household, you might have even been relieved to incubate your ticket out of the Colonies, but now, you felt only panic. You didn’t want to give this baby up to her--a desire you never would have anticipated.
But then, none of this had been anything you had the ability to anticipate. A Handmaid was not supposed fuck her Commander outside of the Ceremony, or kiss him, or wake up in his embrace. A Handmaid was not supposed to yearn for her Commander, feel comfort from his voice, find companionship in his presence, or feel grateful for his brutality and strength. A Handmaid was not supposed to plan her Commander’s downfall, or plan his escape, and especially not plan his future with her in it.
A Handmaid was not supposed to fall in love with her Commander. But you were a Handmaid. And it was too late.
You left the empty birdfeeder and the bag of seed, slinking up the stairs, creeping back to your room. Throat, chest, face tight, you laid in bed, palms planted on your stomach, and breathed. Shutting your eyes, you hoped for the hundred-thousandth time in three years you would wake up in a different world--a world where the father of your child was not your legal owner, a world where another woman was not claiming it as hers, a world where you opened your eyes and you were not alone, and you were free, and you were truly, deservedly loved.
If you fell asleep, you didn’t know--the next thing you recalled was the familiar rumble of the Audi’s engine, dying as it rolled into the driveway.
#kylo ren smut#kylo ren x reader#kylo x reader#kylo ren imagine#kylo ren#kylo trash#little bird#handmaid au#fanfiction problems#idk I got feelings
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weird opinion but christians aren't religious.
ok so like, jews generally follow god's rules, muslims follow allah's rules, hindus probably follow their gods rules, so on and so forth. and overall they do it out of faith; they do it because they want to honor the deity who loves them rather than because society forces them to.
granted the zionists and the radical extremists and the zealots do exist but as loud minorities and thus are statistical outliers & don't matter.
christians are... a different breed.
"if you aren't x branch and dont obey y rules you'll go to hell so we'll fucking murder you" is pretty much the main driving force behind a significant portion of christianity in history. the catholics, the protestants, the orthodoxy, all are built on a foundation of fear, anger, and hatred. it's shaped the way society developed; in the 4 nations that did the most genocidal imperialist colonialism- England, France, Spain, and Italy- a combination of convenient coastal locations, naval prowess, military tendency, christianity, and ultranationalism lead them down a path of missionaries, holding bibles in one hand and bloodstained knives in the other. the religion is inseparable from the culture and inseparable from the horrible things done in the name of their god, and the resulting cancers of society we feel today from the campaigns of slaughter. xenophobia. capitalism. savage barbarism via sensationalized capitol punishment. misogyny. queerphobia. gender fascism. classism. racism. all of these issues in the "civilized world" stem predominantly from those four nations and the disease ridden pestilent filth some call pilgrims.
here's something interesting:
there are less than 1 million rastafari in the world.
there are less than 5 million shinto in the world.
there are less than 25 million jews in the world.
there are less than 30 million sikhs in the world.
there are roughly 100 million african cultural religious adherents in the world.
there are less than 400 million chinese cultural religious adherents in the world.
there are about 500 million buddhists in the world.
there are about 1.1 billion hindus in the world.
there are about 1.2 billion nonreligious people in the world.
there are 1.6 billion muslims in the world.
and one final statistic
there are over 2.1 billion christians in the world.
the jewish count is a highball, rounded up, and includes several different definitions of jewish including people who are only one quarter. so for every single person who is even remotely jewish, there are more than 8 christians. for every hindu, there are 4 christians. for every atheist, agnostic, or "other", 2 christians. this frightening statistic should set off warning bells for everyone who is involved in a discussion about religion. and anyone who knows BASIC world history and can correlate data at all can probably piece together what I'm putting down.
now, I may be slightly biased here considering my eclectic religious beliefs. now, I personally believe that there is some primary force of energy that may or may not manifest itself as a humanoid being, that engineered the most basic laws of physics in the universe: atomic magnetism. as can be inferred by planck's constant and its implications, our universe is digital, written in binary. an electron either moves or doesn't move. there are no other options. so I genuinely believe in some form of intelligent design; whether it's a bearded guy on a cloud, some dude with six arms and an elephant for a face, just a big swirling pool of ectoplasm, or a big ol' plate of spaghetti and meatballs, something is out there that we are physically incapable of contacting from our plane of existence, just as a drawing on a piece of paper cannot reach out to interact with the world: a gif will move on its own but it will never acknowledge our existence, even if it could think by itself. and all the different mythologies of the world- egyptian, greek, norse, shinto, whatever- very well could be the agents of that unknown "god". perhaps anubis, ra, and bastet are just angels with animal heads that all of the peoples of ancient egypt saw and were like oh I guess this must be a god. maybe zeus and loki were the same person with a magic dick who fucked a bunch of animals in both greece and the scandinavian countries and spawned all of the horrible half-animal monstrosities that, idk, made vishnu think "well I have to kill that" and caused the biblical flood or something. maybe the jewish god gifted wisdom to siddhartha for sitting under a fig tree for 6 years through the angel pomona [roman goddess of fruit, had to google that one], so buddha gets his wisdom from demeter and is in nirvana right now right a step up from hades on yggdrasil the world tree keeping an eye on his charge persephone. any theory could theoretically be true but we ants of humans will never fucking know because we can't just point a telescope at the magellanic clouds and say "look, there's amaterasu with russell's teapot, and she's having tea with... *rubs eyes* lemmy kilmister??? wow I guess gods are real after all!" it's impossible to know the secrets of our universe because of the very restrictive nature of the universe itself. is it a circle? is it a donut? WE DONT FUCKIN KNOW.
we cannot know what religion is truthful.
""anyone who says that any one religion is more or less true than any other is a fucking moron, and if they're suggesting that White Western European Colonial Imperialist Protestantism is the one true faith, they're probably a fucking racist colonizer who beats his wife/sister and burns gays at the stake. and considering how that exact demographic is typically the one that murdered people for not converting to their religion, I don't think they have the intellectual non-deranged ability to make those logical connections.
again, I'm not saying that there AREN'T a lot of people of every religion who are evil assholes who contributed to mass genocide. israelites killed palestinians. shiites killed sunnis. hutus killed tutsis. danes killed geats. turks killed armenians. the ottoman empire has as much blood on its hands as the holy roman empire. germans who called themselves aryans but weren't actually aryan killed jews. but all of these tragedies were isolated incidents rather than repeated patterns over the course of two thousand years. not like christianity was and is.
just look at the United States, Canada, Mexico, Hong Kong, South Africa, Australia, & India's British Raj. Britain, France, Spain, and Italy, by extension Protestantism and Catholicism, are the shared factor between the long and bloody history fraught with massacring indigenous populations who wouldn't convert religions. native americans, indigenous canadians, latin americans but predominantly mexicans, the eastern chinese, coastal africans, aborigine aussies, indians- coastal coastal coastal. true the western chinese and the mongols/hunnu and xinjiang muslims haven't exactly been on civil terms and the silk road has always been a battleground and the middle east was already tenuous before murrica bombed them for oil but those happened in such a spread out area among asia which is FUCKING HUGE, MIND YOU! but also that's three high traffic places with massive diversity, it's human nature to have conflict, but not nearly to the same level as all of the shit christianity has done to the world. it's impossible to separate the religion from the cultures; victorian england without protestantism is just dirty people who die at 15 from having their 3rd child. italy without the catholicism is just grass and cheese. france and spain without religion are just kingdoms that fought wars with england for forever and now just make food that's one part delicious and three parts horrifying. religion is directly responsible for a significant portion of the evils those countries committed. one religion in particular.
they don't practice religion the same way as the rest do. they aren't faithful to their god. they don't follow his rules out of love but out of fear. they execute dissenters without a second thought, heresy they cry. they execute women and little girls for being free thinking or having sickness associated with mercury poisoning in the water, witch they cry. they slaughter men women and kids alike in the name of cramming their beliefs down the natives throats, we're chasing out the snakes they cry, we're bringing god to your godless people they cry, we're just civilizing you they cry. they shit in the streets and proudly display rotting corpses and leave the impoverished disabled and starving to die alone and whip their slaves and rape teenage girls and scrap in the streets while sopping wet with spilled ale over insignificant insults and stab people to death in the night and never even fucking BATHE, and they have the nerve to say the natives were uncivilized. the nerve. because hey. they read a magic book they stole from a culture who stole from another culture who stole from another culture, mistranslating each time from hebrew to greek to italian to english, and they think they're better because their skin is white.
christians never evolved. their mentalities have stayed the same. all thatms advanced has been technology. that's it. they're still the same evil disgusting degenerate bastards they always were. they just have the money they stole to buy stained glass windows, rosary beads, giant tacky metal statues, bigass robes, leather, and printing presses. and as time passed they used the money they continued to steal to buy cars and websites and radio stations and commit felony tax evasion and secretly molest children and line the pockets of the politicians.
all of their holidays are stolen from pagans anyway.
so fuck christmas. fuck easter. fuck lent. fuck the golden calf christian holidays that the tiny minded fragile snowflake conservatives lose their collective shit over because the pandemic response common sense stipulations won't let them buy the shit they can't afford with money they shouldn't have for people they don't even LIKE, all in the name of tradition, tradition! the rituals that worship something so much worse than satan or baphomet or pan or whatever: the dollar. they buy all the new shiny shit they can, at the expense of the chinese kids that the corporate pigs outsource to, buy the pine trees and the coca cola vunderbar and the fake mint corn syrup Js and watch the same shitty cookie cutter white supremacist hallmark fash movies and stuff their kids full of enough sugar to go into a goddamn coma when the african slaves who pick the cocoa beans will never get to know what actually being a kid will ever feel like because they're gonna die from falling into a combine harvester and be eternally forgotten to history and no christian will ever give a shit because they don't fucking care about what they don't see on their safe space news or hear on their safe space radio or read on their safe space social media. they think their worst sin is eating cheeseburgers so instead they'll go eat a mcchicken or chick fil a or an arby's chicken sandwich instead but not at popeyes because "that place is sketchy" and by that they mean they don't wanna eat where black people eat, that's why cracker barrel was so popular for so many white christians for so long because it had racially segregated seating until barely 20 years ago.
they don't love jesus. they love a paper doll they shove into their back pockets until every other sunday where they go to a fucking mall with a baptism waterslide and raise their hands like a bunch of dumbass weirdos and away to adult contemporary indie schlock with the word jesus pasted into a boring-ass hetero romance song, pat themselves on the back, then go to starbucks to scream slurs and misgenderings at 14 year old starbucks baristas who give them a cappamochalattechino instead of a fucking carmamochalattechino because you mumbled under the mask you didn't even fucking cover your nose with because you don't give a shit about the virus beyond how it inconveniences you.
they are horrible people who pretend to be good. until you suggest the slightest infinitely small inconvenience to them that would alter their holiday plans even the littlest smidge. then they would kill you if not for the police. don't get me started on them because you know by now what I'd say about those fuckers. but they'll gladly wear shirts about how they'll kill you. how they'll go back 200 years. how they'll murder you and watch you slowly suffer because their primate brains shoot a million endorphins when they watch things die by their hands because they never evolved a sense of empathy, compassion, or morality beyond how wearing a cross necklace will remove any of the consequences they will face in their afterlife.
they are horrible people who pretend to be good. unless you're gay or black or trans or Not Christian™ or mexican or disagree with them about politics economics sociology science technology music or movies. assimilate or die. assimilate or die. assimilate or die.
they don't deserve special treatment for their false idols.
they aren't better than jews or muslims.
they're worse.
so much worse.
and they should be stopped.""
-Nightingale Quietioca
save as draft arch draft bookmark draft where did I put my keys contra code kontra kode I need to remember this and copy it buzzwords keywords find it later please god tumblr don't bork on me this is good stream of consciousness repackage repackage change the words this is a great character study if I do say so myself thanks 3am me you're welcome 3am me
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The American Adventure
Part 3
Prince Liam and his closest friends are sent to a summer camp in America for a month, whilst in Cordonia the nobles are preparing for Prince Leo’s social season unknowingly to him. During their time there, Liam and Drake become besotted with the same girl- Riley Brooks.
A/N: For those who have read my series ‘Cordonian Wags’, there are a lot of similar themes in this series. However there has been a mix up with the pairings. I’ve completely changed my original plan for this series. Later on in the series it will include some canon from The Royal Romance- Book 1 (with a slight twist), as well as some similarities/quotes from the film “The Best Of Me.” This series includes present time and flashbacks to the past.
Book: The Royal Romance (A/U for majority of this series, some canon will be used but with slight twists)
All characters belong to Pixelberry apart from; Lindsey Brooks, Andy Brooks, Jackie Brooks, Nate Cooper, Lola Hughes and Bethany Hughes.
Warnings: PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! Adult language, mention of depression suspicion, mention of domestic abuse, mention of character death (present tense).
Tags- if you want to be added or removed let me know; @drakexwillow @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @texaskitten30 @cordonianroyalty @bascmve01 @sanchita012 @princessleac1 @queenjilian @kingliam2019 @lodberg @rainbowsinthestorm @furiousherringoperatortoad @lovablegranny @j-a-82
Previously: Riley has been having counselling and the conversation was mainly about her time at summer camp from ten years ago. Then her heart is destroyed learning that her Uncle Bastien has tragically passed away.
****
Summer in New York hadn’t been the same over the last few years. Andy and Jackie Brooks, tragically passed away in a road traffic accident. The two of them fought hard upon the arrival at the hospital- however both lost their fight minutes apart. This tragedy shattered both Riley’s and Lindsey’s hearts. The two young women had lost their role models, their best friends. Unable to grieve properly, the two girls had decided to permanently closed camp until further notice as nobody was available to cover. Or offered to cover for that matter. Riley never went to college, all the dreams that she once expressed and shared with Drake were now non-existent. Instead she became a waitress/barmaid at a dive bar along with one of her closest friends, Daniel. Lindsey had managed to work her way up the career ladder, with Liam never leaving her thoughts - ever. Now the news about another close person in their life had broken their hearts into a million pieces once again.
After ending the call from Bastien’s estate attorney, Riley headed towards Central Park. Naturally it felt the best place to be. The very few times Bastien would visit them he had always insisted to take them there for a day out before rushing back to Europe.
After a few hours of ‘people watching’ in Central Park- Riley had a lot of time to think. To herself. The information that she had just unexpectedly received, still hadn’t fully sunk in yet. Lindsey had filled up her notifications screen with all the missed calls and texts- all Riley could respond with to her sister was two simple words “I know.”
Lindsey had attempted to persuade her sister to go to her house, so they could grieve together. Not alone. In Riley’s heart she wanted nothing more than to visit her sister- however her mind advised her otherwise. For her own safety.
“Where the hell have you been?”
“The park.” Avoiding the true events of her day, it wasn’t a total lie. “Also, I received a phone call with some bad news.”
“What now, Riley? Another attention seeking act?”
“It’s not an act. Or attention seeking. My Uncle has passed away. I have a meeting with his attorney on Monday morning.” Holding in the tears, proved to be a difficult task. Even though she didn’t really love her husband, right now she felt the need for a hug off of him. Or something similar at least. Instead all he provided her with was the gesture of his eyes rolling back and the slamming of his tumbler against the glass table causing her to flinch. A regular reaction.
“Well you will have to cancel that meeting. We are going away, meeting up with the Darlington’s. You’ve already embarrassed yourself infront of them- don’t have the audacity to do it again by going awol. I’m going for a drive.” Riley looked at the empty bottle of whiskey on the table- knowing full well that he will have consumed it all in a small amount of time. An hour? Possibly two if he drank it slowly.
“You’re going to kill yourself one of these days.”
“Baby, I’m invincible. If I do, you drove me to it.”
Not responding, she was unsure as to what he would do if she did. Instead, she decided to clean away the empty bottle and the tumbler with the residue of whiskey still lingering. Taking a step outside, the air was cool for a summers night- focusing on the brightest star in the sky- all of her emotions finally escaped. Wiping her cheek, she whispered to herself- “you said you’d never leave me when my parents died. You promised me, Uncle B. Like someone else- he promised me that he would keep in touch. No matter what. I was foolish to think that a summer fling could turn into more, like Mom and Dad. I was afraid of telling you why myself and he stopped talking when you and I spoke on the phone. Mainly incase you decided to hunt him down and kill him. But now, I wish that somehow- Drake Walker would contact me. That’s never going to happen though, is it?”
****
In Cordonia, the last ten years had been something that Liam never had expected. His older brother had abdicated the throne. Now he was the Crown Prince, being forced to marry for a political reason. For the last ten years, he had wished that he could see Lindsey just one more time, explain to her the truth about his identity. She was always on his mind, even with noble women throwing themselves at him at every single opportunity. However, this didn’t bother him in the slightest.
When they had returned to Cordonia after that summer in New York, Drake felt like he had lost a limb. As much as he avoided her in the beginning, their relationship slowly turned into something more than long distance friendship. The first time in his life, he had fallen in love at such a young age. Even since Riley, he hadn’t made much of an effort with women. Now he was going to have to inform Liam about Bastien’s last wishes. Returning to New York City.
Hey, Li. Can you come to the cabin? I need to talk to you.
Sure. I’ll get Glen to escort me. Is everything okay?
You’ll find out when you get here.
*****
Drake began pacing the room, waiting for Liam. Wondering if he would attend or not. Eventually he turned up, looking regal as ever whereas Drake looked like a caveman who hadn’t shaved in years.
“So what’s up?”
“We have to go back to New York. Bastien’s last wishes. Here read this...” Drake purposely scrolled past the part regarding his past with the King Father. His hidden past with his best friends father. The untold secrets. Unable to articulate what his true thoughts regarding the impromptu trip were, Liam provided Drake with a soft smile instead. After the events that had occurred recently, he was unsure whether or not that they would all be safe. Liam’s court wasn’t out of harm’s way in their own country, what would the situation be like in another?
“Li? If not I’ll go on my own. I don’t mind.” You’ll be fine, you’re a King. Tragedy can not occur again! Liam’s inner voice attempted to make him not think negatively. Instead of elaborating on Drake’s words, he focused his eyes onto the photos that were displayed. Photos that were taken when life was ‘easy’.
“If only we could turn back time? That’s a lovely photo of the two of you. I think that’s the first and the only time that I’ve seen you smile....” Pausing, he noticed that Drake had become mute- knowing full well that his friend didn’t want to think about or discuss the ‘what if’s’. “Do you think that we will ever see them again?” Liam queried, knowing it was a ridiculous thing to say.
“I highly doubt it. But there is one person that we need to locate before we go....” Riley? Lindsey? Deep down, Liam thought or rather hoped that Drake would mention at least one of those names.
“Leo.” Sighing, the King provided his trained stoic expression- not wanting to provide any inkling at his disappointment of Leo’s name being mentioned.
“I’ll get Glen to attempt to locate the missing Prince. Are you sure that you are okay, Drake?”
“No, I’m not Liam- okay? The one person that protected me throughout life isn’t here anymore. My family- they are non existent. And you see that picture......” Pointing to his and Riley’s selfie, Drake couldn’t prevent the tears from rolling down his cheek. For the last decade all he felt was guilt.
“That one person would have given anything to protect and love me. What do I do? I promise to keep in touch with her, no matter the circumstances. I let her down. I let her go. It’s my fault that you also lost contact with Lindsey and are having to go through all of this shit. Why couldn’t I have died instead of Bastien?”
“Because he simply gave his life up for you.”
“Li, you don’t know the half of what Bastien gave up for me. Or did for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ignore me. It doesn’t matter, your Majesty.”
****
Liam wished that Drake wouldn’t hold everything in- he knew there was more that he needed to confess. But didn’t want to force it. Glen entered the cabin, to try and help Liam locate Leo- as Drake believed he was useless and unable to help he stepped outside and took a slow walk towards the lake. The one place where he and Bastien would have their heart to heart conversations. Back in New York- Riley was doing the exact same thing. Thinking back to the last personal talk she had with her second father figure was the time at camp when she was sent to the isolation cabin.
****
“He did what?” Riley just shrugged her shoulders, she knew that what she had informed her father about wasn’t a riddle. It was quite clear. Nate had punched Drake first and had avoided punishment as he did it in a sly way.
“Riley, just go to where you need to go. I’ll sort Nate out possibly tomorrow but I’ll talk to Drake now.”
.......
Andy arrived at the cabin- they had all expected him to show up with Riley as she was Daddy’s little Princess. When she wasn’t there, they all knew where she was.
“Is Drake in? I’d like to talk to him in my office.” Maxwell escorted Andy towards the room that Drake had barricaded himself in. Everybody had been asking questions about his face, lying he assumed that he had convinced them that the ‘falling over’ excuse would be a success. Covering his face, Drake allowed Andy to escort him to his office- upon arrival Bastien stood dormant with his arms folded.
“Drake what’s happening with you? You are always falling over recently.” Riley had enlightened Andy about exactly how Drake had received his most recent injury. When they arrived, Andy believed that Bastien would be able to gain the full details out of Drake. But now his mind was thinking overtime with his best friends comment.
“Sir, this wasn’t an accident. My youngest daughter, Riley...” Keeping the link between them all hidden, Bastien gave a slight nod- knowing exactly why Andy was acting as if they were all strangers. “....Explained that a fellow camper did this to Drake. It wasn’t a fall. It wasn’t an accident. He was defending my daughter like a true gentleman.”
“Drake is that correct?” Nodding, he didn’t want to go into anymore detail. However he didn’t want to seem like a pushover to his friends. “Andy, thank you for your time. I’ll deal with this if you need to sort the little fucker out.” Drake’s eyes widened at Bastien’s description of Nate, usually he would be more professional- more polite. Now he was panic stricken that next time he saw Nate, it wouldn’t result in only a black eye.
“I think that you and I need to talk young Walker... over the years, the injuries... were they not accidents either?” Remaining silent for a while, Bastien eventually became frustrated as time went on without a word muttered between the two of them.
“Drake! Answer me! I promised your father that I would look after you. If you don’t tell me I can’t help you.”
“No they weren’t accidents, Bastien. I lied. I’m sorry.” Kneeling down, he looked into Drake’s eyes- reassuring him that he would be there always. “Who did it to you, son. Tell me.” Drake removed his shirt, Bastien gasped as he could visibly see markings. Old ones. New ones. “The Ki-the King did this....”
Drake explained how every time he stood paralysed with fear, attempting for his body not to tremble as it would result in more abuse. “He was embarrassed.... that he had to take myself and Savannah in. Every time I avoided doing noble things he would shout at me, saying I was lucky that I had him ... asking why I was ungrateful. Why I couldn’t act noble like Sav?” Explaining all of this felt like relief in some way. That he didn’t have to hide the abuse from everybody. The ‘sulky’ attitude that he had helped cover the true facts about his personal life up. Describing how the King would have bloodshot eyes, as well as the thick saliva that formed around his mouth as he spat towards him. Once he was in this rage, Drake just responded with a gesture such as shaking or nodding his head or one worded answers- fearing what would occur if he said anything ‘wrong’.
“He threatened to put me up for adoption if I didn’t abide by his rules. There are blanks, half the time I don’t remember things. But he just acts all normal as if nothing has happened. I want to leave Cordonia as soon as I can, Bast. But what would people think?” Bastien at this moment in time didn’t care what other people thought. In the back of his mind he was furious and beyond upset with the unexpected confession provided- but bit his lip not willing for his true feelings regarding the matter to appear.
“Don’t you worry about it. You have me. I will not allow him to hurt you again. You hear me? Go back to the others. I need to go and see someone.” Debating whether or not to leave him alone, Drake pulled Bastien in for a tight hug- explaining how much he appreciated him and never wanted to lose him.
“You’ll never lose me, I promise. Oh by the way Drake, I think that Andy appreciates you defending his daughter. But she can look after herself. Trust me. She’s stronger than she looks.”
“How do you know?”
“Instinct. Just like instinct tells me you wouldn’t defend any girl. I know how young men’s minds work. Oh also, Riley punched Nate. See you later, son. I’m only a phone call away. I love you.”
.....
“Hello, Riley.” Riley answered the door of the isolation cabin. To begin with she believed that it was her father- giving in to punishing her.
“Erm, Liam. You’re not supposed to be here. You need to go now before my parents see you!” Raising his eyebrows up towards her, a little bit of the rebellious Rys attitude appeared from nowhere.
“I got lost on my walk. No one needs to know the truth. Are you okay?” Pulling him through the threshold, she didn’t want him to be punished too for her previous actions.
“I’m fine. At least I get a bit of peace and quiet here.” Nervously giggling, this was the way she always hid feelings. A this moment of time, she had a mixture of those feelings that needed to disappear whilst she had company. The hated towards Nate. The growing feelings towards a stranger. The disappointment in herself for becoming a ‘boxer’ short term.
“Listen, tell me to mind my own business if you feel the need to... ‘Nigel’ as we all call him now, he’s not worth your time. Anybody’s time for that matter.” Stepping closer towards her, he removed a stray piece of hair from her face to behind her ear. Having this close contact made her heart flutter in an instant as he began to caress her rosy cheek. Leaving it lingering there, the two of them remained in silence for a while.
“You’re beautiful, Riley. You deserve better. Don’t allow him to hurt you in anyway.”
“Okay Prince Charming, no need to call me beautiful to make me feel better.” If only she knew. Liam thought as he silently chuckled to himself.
“You and your sister are beautiful young women. I’m not trying to charm you, I’m telling the truth. If he hurts you or anybody again.....”
“Thank you. But Nate won’t do anything again- I can assure you of that. Regarding your charm.... You guys are, what I suppose the equivalent to beautiful is.”
“Well I could understand you calling me good looking. But hyper Maxwell and sulky Drake?” Blushing the minute he mentioned Drake, Liam noticed immediately. Trying to read her facial expression, she daren’t make eye contact with him.
“Have you got something that you’d like to tell me?”
“No! Why would I?” Knowing she was lying not only to Liam but to herself- she wished that involuntary gesture of the blush didn’t provide the truth. “Okay, Nate was criticising me... Drake defended me... I asked him to meet me but he never showed up. Then when I found him he confessed that Nate had hurt him....because of me.”
“So I assume that’s why you did it back to him? Do you have feelings for Drake?” Asking this question, he didn’t really want to know the answer- of course he would be happy for his best friend. But he still had those conflicted feelings ever since meeting both Riley and Lindsey.
“Even if I did, it doesn’t matter. He hates me one minute- then the next he’s being my knight in shining armour. Can we change the subject please? There’s Monopoly if you wanna play... I mean you’ve already gone awol - what would another hour matter?”
“Oh... I’d love to. But at home that game is banished in my household...” Following the British royal family tradition, Constantine had also agreed that the board game shouldn’t be played.
“Why?” Riley asked whilst wearing a confused expression- not quite believing his story.
“Erm.... it just becomes vicious. It causes too many arguments. So my parents made a joint decision to not play it.”
“I promise that I’ll play fair. Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone that you’ve played...” A mischievous grin formed on her face, before reaching for the box. Liam couldn’t help but agree to play- just this one time, he promised himself.
After an hour or so playing, Liam really enjoyed himself. Having the freedom to break the usual royal rules. During the game, they became comfortable within each other’s company. Liam confessed that he honestly thought he would fall for Riley but now he had met Lindsey he wanted to get to know her more. Due to this, Riley warned him about the ‘do’s and don’ts’ regarding her older sister- then Liam did the same regarding Drake.
.......
Bastien overheard two familiar voices coming from inside the isolation cabin; his goddaughter and the ‘good prince’. As far as he was aware Liam always stuck to protocol- never once acted like Leo. As Liam left, Bastien hid behind the tree- he knew his responsibility was to protect the teenagers from Cordonia, but whilst he was in the States; the Brooks’ sisters were also his priority in his mind.
“Hey, baby. Can I come in?” Riley gestured for him to enter, wondering who would be next on her visitor list. “I know I’m not your father, but keep those fists down next time. Years ago I taught you self defence. Not for you to be a fighter for the sake of it.” Riley avoided eye contact with him, feeling as if she was a small child that was about to be sent to the naughty step. Feeling guilty for saying his words, he sighed before continuing. “Listen, I love you. I don’t want you becoming hurt. So just leave the fighting to us men if and when required.”
“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m not a kid, Uncle Bastien.”
“You’re 15. Soon to be 16. That’s still a kid in my eyes. Stay away from Nate and stick close with your friends and the people from Europe. They are kind and loyal. Well the men are, the two woman aren’t.”
“And how would you know?”
“Your father.” Bastien regretted lying to her, but it was part of his duty to keep not only his job role a secret but also the identity of the nobles from Cordonia.
“Can you keep a secret, Uncle Bast?”
“You can tell me anything, sweetheart.”
“I... I think that I like one of them. I don’t know. I just. I want to get to know him better, just by talking to him. He stood me up before, I was furious but then I knew the reasoning why. He’s only here for a month, but..... I’m being silly aren’t I? I need to stop thinking like this.” When Riley began talking Bastien automatically assumed that she meant Liam - now he understood that she meant Drake. The boy that was practically his adoptive son.
“Drake is... he’s...” Practically my son. You’re my goddaughter. For fuck sake.
“Grumpy? Arrogant? Handsome?”
“I wasn’t going to say that... he seems like a lovely young man who would protect you in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t live around here. You can have a summer fling if you really want to but it can’t really be more than that, Ri.”
“I know... but Mom wasn’t from New York. But my parents have an amazing bond and relationship...Just ignore me. I’ll try not to fall for him just because of the circumstances. Although.......Liam, the blonde one- is trying to make a move on Lindsey. We are both going to end up heartbroken if we follow our hearts aren’t we?” As much as Bastien wanted to allow them all to live happily ever after, he knew that it would be virtually impossible.
“Maybe? Or maybe in the future fate will find a way. We don’t know what our future holds. But I suppose we need to grab every opportunity as if it’s our last. I’ll pop down and see you in the morning, okay? I love you.” Maybe just maybe, Liam could marry for love as Eleanor once hoped for. Drake deserves happiness after all of the shit that he has been through. Could Lindsey and Riley be their happy endings? They would be better than people such Madeleine and Olivia. No. One thing at a time Bast, get them through the summer camp without any scandal occurring first. After leaving Riley, all Bastien could think of was everything and anything that had been discussed.
****
“Drake! There you are! Where have you been?”
“Sorry, I just went to the lake. Must have lost track of the time.” Liam knew the reasoning why. Bastien and Jackson would take himself, Leo and Drake there quite a lot during their childhood. It was the place where Drake was taught to fish- the only time that he outshined the two princes in an activity.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, Li. I just needed some air. What’s the matter?”
“Glen thinks that he’s found a lead on Leo. Whilst he’s on the phone, he’s found a few numbers for the two of us to contact. I’ve tried a few but had no luck. He suggested not using our personal phones. There’s two more numbers left, here...You ring this one and I’ll ring the other in the other room.” Liam smiled softly as he passed his friend the number. Without a word, he exited the room- eager to find his brother to complete his ex head guards wishes.
****
Riley was grateful once her husband arrived home- unscathed. Not that she was thrilled with his actions, but it was better than viewing his body in a body bag. Assisting him to their bed, she grabbed the spare blankets and made her way over to the guest room. The alcohol smell surrounding him made her feel nauseous, as it had done the last few weeks. As she finally got settled and comfy, her phone rang on an unknown number.
“Hello?” Not hearing a response from the other end of the line- she shook her head believing that it was somebody with the wrong number. Or somebody’s sense of humour with pranking people.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” The heavy breathing and ignorance from the mystery person frustrated her eventually. “Listen arsehole! I’m not in the mood for childish games. I’ve got a block list that is as long as my arm and that began ten years ago and is now going to end with your number. Last chance, who is this?”
“Riley?”
The line cut off.
#choices trr#theroyalromance#trr fanfic#riley brooks#Liam Rys#Drake Walker#bastien lykel#Riley x Liam#Liam x mc#Riley x Drake#drake x mc#mc x Bastien#tw abuse mention#tw swearing#tw depression warning#tw character death#long post#read more link never works
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surveys by taco-tuesdays
What steps would you take in order to track down a thief?
Not too far, honestly. I accept things pretty easily so if I’ve processed that I’ve been robbed, I am most likely to just let it go. I’ll feel like shit, of course, but I would just let it go and scold myself for failing to be attentive.
What is something that one of your family member collects?
My mom used to collect printed table napkins from different restaurants, but obivously she hasn’t been able to continue that for the past year and a half. My dad and brother used to collect magazines but both stopped a few years ago.
What would you do if you were able to have lunch with the queen?
The journalist in me will probably just ask her questions about her everyday life, how she spends it, what she’s into and what she’s not into these days.
If you got to create a new flavor of ice cream, what would it be?
This is a little hard considering there are a lot of small businesses out there already getting creative and quirky with ice cream flavors so it’s just hard to tell if a certain flavor has already been invented or not. One thing I haven’t seen, though, is curry. I’d buy a pint of that in an instant.
What are some questions that you would ask your favorite celebrity?
His latest vlog finds. He once shared a video of this smaller content creator, so I’m guessing that’s what he likes doing in his spare time and I’m sure he would have a bunch of other just as interesting recommendations.
If you were able to set up a stand, what would you sell?
Street food.
Would you like to go deep sea diving? Why or why not?
Yeah. I’m always willing to try daring, not-the-safest-thing-in-the-world activities haha.
What would life be like if you lived on a cloud?
The realist in me just wants to say I’d plummet straight to the ground.
What would you find at the top of a magic beanstalk?
Idk, my creativity can’t be bothered to be challenged.
What is one food you would not want to have rain down from the sky?
Durian. It would hurt and stink like shit.
Which animal's characteristics are similar to your own personality?
I don’t really assign sets of personalities to animals.
If you were in a department store, which aisle would you check out first?
I personally still go for the toys/video games section first HAHAHA
What are some of your hobbies?
They include going to museums, exploring new food and restaurants, traveling to different cities and countries, and reading about history.
You've opened a store that only sells purple items - what do you sell?
BTS merch hahahahah duhhhh
What is something important that you've lost, and did you ever find it?
I lost a rosary that came straight from the Vatican. No, I never found it again. I feel bad about it not because it’s a religious object, but because it came from my grandma.
Have you ever moved to a new school before? If so, how did it feel?
I mean, I had to change schools when I was moving up from high school to college, but I’ve never changed schools within the same chapter of my studies, like in the middle of elementary or high school. But to answer the question, it had been a very liberating and empowering experience. I hated the rules in my Catholic school and there were so many elements from that place that made me hide so much about myself. The fact that I could wear shorts and curse and attend rallies and cut class and make my own class schedules in college felt incredibly freeing and satisfying.
What would've happened if Cinderella never went to the ball?
See magic beanstalk question.
If you had one day to do anything at all, what would you choose?
I would drive to Tagaytay and find a cozy restaurant and eaaaaatttt awaaaayyyy.
What are a few of your favorite songs?
I really really like Singularity by V, Over the Hills by Hayley Williams, and So Far Away by Agust D and Suran.
Have you ever legitimately forgotten to do homework?
All the time. I never wrote down homework.
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If you were a witch, what kind of a spell would you cast? On who?
I don’t care about casting spells on people. I just want my cravings to show up in the snap of a finger hahaha. Can that be part of a witch’s scope of work? Kjdgfhsdfskjfhs
Do you enjoy autumn leaves or spring flowers more? Why?
I wouldn’t know. I experience neither over here.
What is your favorite sport to play? What about watch?
Table tennis. Favorite to watch would be either tennis or pro wrestling.
Have you ever gone on a cruise before? To where?
Yeah. It was an East Asian cruise so I traveled to Shanghai, Jeju, and Fukuoka.
What would you do if you were invisible for a day?
Probably go to the bigger houses in the village and see how fancy they get.
Depending on where you live, why might a day of school get canceled?
Typhoon, floods. A lot of places are incredibly prone to flooding, so as long as it’s been raining super hard the chances for a class suspension will get high.
What types of transportation do you think we will see in the future?
I dunno. It seems like we’re at that point where everything is in the process of being invented or perfected already.
What were some of your toys you always played with when you were little?
I liked kitchen sets and anything with lots of buttons, so like toy telephones or cash registers.
If you were a movie star, what would a day in your life be like?
I have no clue apart from the fact that I’m just glad I would assumedly have more than enough money to buy whatever I’m craving whenever I want hahaha.
If you invented a time machine, what year would you like to go to, and why?
Realistically I wouldn’t change a thing; but if I had to answer this question I’d go back to 2016 and never ask out Gab a second time, so that the next four years wouldn’t end up being such a waste of my time.
What is your favorite holiday and why?
I don’t have one. I’m not a big holiday ~celebrator.
What is something that you like to do while on vacation?
Try food I’ve never tried before. The more unconventional or obscure, the better.
If you could meet any fictional character from a book, who would it be?
Eh, don’t really have anyone in mind.
What are some common places that people tour when they come to your city?
There’s the waterfalls in the upper part of the city – I’m just not sure if it’s still a popular spot but it certainly was when I was a kid. There’s also an art museum that I’m certain is a lot more frequented now.
What's one food that you did not enjoy as a child, but do as an adult?
Curry.
How would having no electricity affect your daily routine?
I wouldn’t be able to attend work, at least not for the whole day. It would also feel a lot warmer without the electric fan, which would in turn make me cranky.
If you had one wish, what would it be?
A renovated room with a dedicated corner for all my merch.
Say someone gives you a magic sweater. What happens when you wear it?
Idk.
If you built a new city, how would you convince people to move there?
I wouldn’t.
What is one of your favorite movies? Why is it one of your favorites?
Two for the Road. It has Audrey Hepburn, it’s a realistic rom-com, and the chemistry between the two leads is superb.
--
If you were given a certain amount of time to live, would you want to know?
Yeah for sure, I would want to know in a heartbeat.
What would you do if you were able to stop time?
I don’t know what I would do, but that would be a nice...opportunity, I guess? to experiment with or try out certain decisions and see how well or unwell they would work out to be. So that when time resumes, I’d know better on how to best handle a situation.
Do you think that long distance relationships would be for you?
I wouldn’t actively go for it, but I’m not shutting down the possibility either.
Is there a popular social media platform that you don't have an account for?
I have one for all the main ones, I think. Even Instagram, I made an account not too long ago to finally join the platform.
How old were you when you found out about Santa, the Easter Bunny, etc?
I never knew the Easter Bunny was a thing until I started taking these surveys at like 14. I never really believed in Santa either, and the only figure I was super disappointed to learn that it didn’t exist was the tooth fairy.
Who is your favorite Disney Princess?
Rapunzel.
Which freaks you out more - clowns or porcelain dolls?
Porcelain dolls. They look more innocent, which somehow makes them creepier.
What was the last mistake that you learned from?
Hm, just a minor work thing that would be too complicated to explain here.
Do you prefer "regular pencils" or mechanical ones? Why?
Regular. I always break off the tips of mechanical pencils.
What is one little-known music artist you'd recommend?
Andi made me listen to The Drums recently and I’ve been loving their sound so far; they would be perfect on a road trip. I’ve only listened to one album, though.
What is your favorite Pixar film?
Toy Story!
Who was the last person to send you any sort of message on social media?
Angela sent me a video meme.
Where were you on September 11th, 2001?
I don’t know...probably already being put to bed. Either way I wasn’t fully conscious yet as I had only been 3 and living on the other side of the planet.
Name your favorite green vegetable.
Broccoli, spinach, bell peppers, or asparagus. IDK I love veggies hahahaha
Could you handle a friends with benefits type of situation?
Not for me. I’m not even into sex.
Do you prefer using a brush or a comb on your hair?
Comb.
What's your favorite flavor of potato chips?
SALTED EGG. I’m obsessed; I had like five bags this week alone.
Would you rather build a snowman or a snow fort? Why?
I dunno; I’ve never tried making either.
At what age do you believe children should begin having screen time?
I’m not too sure at this point, but I do know I don’t plan on being too strict with my kids. I’d let them watch stuff on an iPad from like age 3 or 4, but one thing I would change from how I was raised is putting a limit on their screen time, maybe half an hour to an hour a day.
If you had to give a speech, what would it be on?
I’d be down for any topic as long as I was given ample time to research, honestly. I like public speaking.
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The Last Word: Shirley Manson on Fighting the Patriarchy and How Patti Smith Inspires Her
The Garbage singer also talks racial justice, living for now, and why legacy is an inherently masculine concern
Almost as soon as Garbage’s self-titled debut blew up overnight in 1995, their singer, Shirley Manson, became aware of the patriarchy running the music industry. Even though she was the group’s focal point — belting dusky electro-rock songs about making sense of depression (“Only Happy When It Rains”) and taking pride in nonconformity (“Queer”) — she was still a woman fronting a band of men, one of whom, Butch Vig, had produced Nirvana’s Nevermind. Almost immediately, she felt as though her role in the group was being devalued — not by the guys she worked with, but externally.
“There was a lot of stuff written about me in the music press, and that’s when I started to realize how I’m being diminished, how, in some cases, I’m being completely eradicated from the narrative because I’m female and not a man,” she says now. “I was talked over by lawyers; I was ignored by managers. The list goes on. It’s boring and tedious; there’s no point in me moaning about it now, but certainly, that was my awakening.”
That revelation emboldened her to speak out about equality and she quickly became a feminist icon, using her platform to bring attention to human rights, mental health, and the AIDS crisis. All the while, she wrote inclusive hit songs with Garbage about androgyny and reproductive rights (“Sex Is Not the Enemy”). On Garbage’s great new album, No Gods No Masters, she grapples with racial injustice, climate change, the patriarchy, and her own self-worth. But as weighty as the subject matter is, she approaches each song in her own uniquely uplifting way.
“I don’t think really the record is serious, per se,” the singer, 54, says, on an early May phone call. “I think it’s an indignant record. I think in indignance you can still carry humor with you, as well as softness, kindness, and love in your heart. I just felt it would be inauthentic to say anything other than what I was saying in my daily life across the dinner table from my friends and my family. I think as you get older as an artist, the challenge is, ‘How I can be my most authentic self?’ because that’s the most unique story I can tell. In an industry that’s just absolutely jam-packed to the rafters with ideas, opinions, melodies, and so on, you can’t afford to be anything other than your most authentic self. It won’t last.”
Authenticity and being true to herself are the qualities that have made Manson who she is. And those traits seem to guide her answers to Rolling Stone’s questions about philosophy, life lessons, and creature comforts for our Last Word interview.
What are the most important rules that you live by?
I’m 54, which is ancient for the contemporary music industry. At this point, I feel like if it’s not fun, then I’m uninterested entirely. If somebody’s treating me poorly, I have to walk away. Life is so fricking short, and I’m three quarters of the way through mine already; I just want to have a good life, full of joy.
Who are your heroes and why?
Patti Smith is a huge hero for me for a lot of different reasons. Most importantly, it’s because she’s a woman who has navigated her creative life so beautifully and so artfully, with such integrity and authenticity, and she has proven to me that a woman, an artist, does not have to subscribe to the rules of the contemporary music industry.
It’s very rare for other women to see examples of women actually working still in their seventies. That, to me, is really thrilling and really inspiring, and it fills me with hope. At times when you come up against the ageism, sexism, and misogyny that exists in our culture, I always try and picture Patti in my mind’s eye, and it always brings me back to center, like, “OK, adhere to your own rules. Design your own life. Be your own architect. You can continue to be an artist the rest of your life.” And to me, that’s life. That is a fully lived life.
You’re also a role model yourself. How do you handle that responsibility?
I’m a bit speechless if the truth be told. I realize that I’ve now enjoyed a long career in music, and by default, I think people are inspired by that. I think whenever you see an artist, no matter who they are, when someone can endure, I think that’s exciting to everybody else, because it’s a message that says, “You too can get up when you think you’re done. You too can brush yourself off and try again.” By just continuing, you can help other people continue and fulfill themselves in ways that they thought they wouldn’t be able to.
I try to be a decent person. I make mistakes. I fuck people off. I say stupid shit. I’m not all-knowing; I am ignorant in so many ways. But I do try my best. I think that’s really all I can ask of myself.
How others perceive me is absolutely out of my control. There’s always going to be people who think I’m an arsehole, and that’s just part and parcel of being in the public eye. People are just going to hate on you, so I try not to take too much of it in; I don’t let it absorb me too much. I have gotten to that point in my life when I’m able to just go, “You know what? Fuck it. You can’t win them all.”
You once said that the idea of legacy was a masculine construct that you don’t believe in. Do you still feel that way?
Yeah. I still very much believe in that. I know a lot of male artists who bang on about their legacy and their importance. Not to knock that if that’s what’s important to you but for me personally, what do I care? I’m going to be dead and gone and totally unconscious of any so-called legacy that I might leave behind. I want fun now. I want to have a good life now. I want to eat good food now and have great sex. It’s absolutely meaningless to me what happens after I’m gone. I want to use my time wisely, and that’s all that I really am concerned with, to be honest.
What is it about legacy that’s inherently masculine?
This is armchair psychology, so please forgive me, but I’m sure it has something to do with how women have this uterus that can bear children. I think that’s profound. One of the few gifts that men have not been given is that ability to create with your body, and your blood, and your heat and all these nutrients from your body. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons why you don’t hear as many women banging on about the great legacy they’re going to leave behind. I think for women it’s their kids.
You’re Scottish. What is the most Scottish thing about you these days?
I’ve got a lot of grit, and it’s served me really well in my career. I think that is a really Scottish trait. The Scottish people are tough, and they also have a good sense of humor. So, grit with humor. I should say “gritted with humor,” in the same way we grit roads.
As you were saying “grit,” it occurred to me that a lot of your songs are about survival and moving forward, going back to “Stupid Girl” or “Only Happy When It Rains.” They’re about perseverance.
[Pauses] I think it’s funny you should say that because I’m just sort of like, “Wow, he might be right.” I do think that a huge theme for me is, “How do you overcome? How do we all overcome?” Things can be great for a while; things will not be great forever. And to every single life, these challenges appear. We all have to reconfigure ourselves in order to try to hurl ourselves over obstacles in order to have the kind of life we hope for. So I do think you’ve shocked me a little by discovering a theme for me. Yay, I feel thrilled. I have a theme. It’s exciting.
“Waiting for God” is one of my favorite songs on the album because of the way you address racial justice. How can we, as a society, fight white indifference?
You know, that’s a question right there. It’s interesting that you use the words “white indifference,” because one of the things that shocked me so greatly is the ambivalence and the apathy of white people all over the world who are seeing what we’re seeing on our TVs and on the internet, and yet not having the moral courage to speak up. I think the most important thing we can do is pull back the carpet to see the mess on the floor in order for us to actually start cleaning it up.
If we could curtail some of the brutality of police against black people, that would be a good start. I think it’s going to be decades and decades and decades before we can start to really equalize our societies so that everyone is enjoying the spoils of Western wealth over in the developing world. It’s necessary that we try and help these countries that aren’t as powerful or as wealthy. It’s good for the whole world if we start to improve situations for everyone. Nobody will lose anything, and everyone has everything to gain.
But if I had the answers to how we go about fixing it, I would be in politics and not in music. I just know what I believe to be right, and I’m doing my best to use my voice to try and encourage my friends, my little ecosystem, to start with paying attention and supporting black businesses and elevating black voices and black talent.
What’s your favorite book?
I have so many. The one that springs to mind would be American Pastoral by Philip Roth. I loved All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy. I loved The Collected Works of Billy the Kid by Michael Ondaatje. I loved Winnie the Pooh and Wuthering Heights. I’ve got so many that have really stuck with me that are classics.
My most favorite recent book that I’ve just finished reading is Dancer by Colum McCann about [Russian ballet dancer Rudolf] Nureyev. I was just absolutely mesmerized by it. It was just such a fantastic read, and he’s such a miraculous writer. He brought out Apeirogon last year about the struggle in between Palestine and Israel. He talks about this complicated mess with such clarity, kindness, and generosity. I couldn’t believe Apeirogon didn’t get more fuss made of it last year. Somehow it just seemed to get buried in the morass of other books, and of course the suffering that Covid had brought upon the earth.
What advice do you wish you could give your younger self?
“Take up your space.” When I was growing up, to be a girl was to be told to minimize the space you took up: “Close your legs. Don’t be loud. Smile. Be cute. Be attractive. Be pleasing.” I inherently balked against that as a kid. I was a rebellious kid, and I wasn’t going to sit in the corner and be quiet. I’ve never been like that. However, looking back, I still notice some of the patterns of my own compliance. It’s not that I hate myself for it, but I just wish I could turn around and say to my young self, “Take your seat. If there’s not a seat there, drag a seat up to the table and sit down.”
I’m still really aware of the sexism and misogyny that I have had to battle throughout my career. I’m not crying, “Woe is me,” because I’ve obviously flourished in my career, and it obviously didn’t hold me back enough to hamper me in any way. But I feel for all the women who were unlike me, who didn’t have my forcefulness of personality, or my education, or my ability to articulate myself. I want that for all people, though; I want all people to stop trying to please, and accept that some people will like that, and some people won’t, and that’s OK. It’s OK that some people just don’t dig you.
On the topic of gender, I got a kick out of your song “Godhead,” where you ask if people would treat you differently “if I had a dick.”
I’m really proud of that song, because I think it’s talking about something really serious, and it’s really fun. It’s about addressing the patriarchy, and how omnipresent it is. When I was young, I was so busy trying to make it, I didn’t see that there was a patriarchy in place. And it’s only as an adult, I start looking back going, “Oh, wow — when that A&R man told me to my face that he wanked over pictures of me, that was really uncool.” But at the time, you kind of laugh it off and just press on.
I was oblivious to it. In this song, I’m talking about how patriarchy bleeds into absolutely everything, specifically under organized religion. The “Godhead” is the male, and we are all under the godhead forever, and that’s unquestioned, and how crazy is that? Because a dude holds a higher position in society, because he’s got a dick and a pair of balls. Often, these balls are smaller than my own [laughs].
It just gets silly after a while, when you watch other men protect other men just for the sake of protecting the patriarchy. So few men are willing to speak up about bro culture and call into question the behavior of the men they are associated with. There’s just a reluctance by men to address this absolutely shocking, terrifying, depressing, pathetic assault by men of other people’s bodies.
In 1996, your bandmate Butch Vig said about you, “So many singers screamed to convey intensity, and she does the opposite. It just blew us away.” How did you come up with that approach?
I don’t know. I’ve found that when people speak to me quietly, I feel the most threatened because I’m really comfortable with conflict. I thrive on conflict. It excites me in a funny way. When people are shouting, I don’t feel scared. I like to shout back; that’s just how my family were. We’d just start to shout at each other all the time. I’m not scared of elevated temper. For me, when people get really quiet, that’s when I know they’re really serious, because they’re in control of their rage, and that’s when they’re most deadly.
The last question I have is a shallow one.
I love being cheap and superficial.
What’s the most indulgent purchase you’ve ever made?
At the height of my success, I hired a person who would shop for me and then send everything in a big box to my hotel room. I would choose what I wanted and return anything else. One day, this beautiful pair of Italian leather boots arrived. I wore a pair very similar in the “Stupid Girl” video, and I thought, “Oh, yeah, these are really me. I’m going to keep these. These are amazing.” It was only when I got back from tour, I found out they cost $5,000. I can’t even laugh about it. It makes me so crazy. I still have these boots. I’d like to get rid of them just so that I never have to look at them again, but there they are every day, warning me of my own greed.
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